#now i still gotta do the cover image and get the first few strips done bUT STILL

[shooks-stupid-stuff]

annnd the last two :]

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

hear those bells ring: chapter 3 (a deaf!bakugo x reader fic)

Summary: Bakugo wakes up with his hearing and a bunch of questions.

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader; Katsuki Bakugo x You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood, descriptions of gore, and adult language.

A/N: Sorry for the wait on ch 3, I had to work over the weekend. Anyway, hope you enjoy! 

~*~*~ No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

Ao3 Link: Here

Ch 1 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here

Bakugo woke up confused, disoriented, and pissed off. 

He bolted upright, the taste of smoke and ash still on his tongue, but when he whipped his head from side to side, there was no fire, no burning asphalt, no villain, only the empty, dark expanse of his apartment. 

But something was still tugging at him, fucking incessantly, and it took him a moment to realize it was his phone alarm. 

Red eyes flicked to the device on his bedside table, and even though its continuous siren was like nails on a chalkboard, Bakugo found himself unable to move, unable to stop it. 

Because he could hear the alarm. Clearly. Loudly. 

He hadn’t been able to hear his phone alarm in weeks, not really. It was nothing more than a muffled tone that petered out toward the end as it rose in pitch and frequency. Thankfully, Bakugo’s internal alarm got him up most days around the sun, but he’d been late to morning patrols a handful of times. 

But now… 

Numbly, Bakugo finally reached out and tapped his phone. His ears rang slightly in the ensuing silence, but it was barely perceptible, nothing like the perpetual buzzing he’d been living with, like a hive of bees had taken up residence in his head. 

The quiet, after so long, was almost… unsettling. 

And it was all because of that woman. He was sure of it. 

Bakugo pressed his lips into a thin line as he thought about you, the memories of last night flooding back. The blurry image of your face, crouched over him, splattered in a thin mist of red blood and dusted with white plaster. He couldn’t remember much from right after he blasted that villain into the fucking dirt. He remembered the feel of glass breaking around him, and pain, a lot of fucking pain, but then it was black until you appeared. When he’d opened his eyes and met yours, he recalled thinking he should be in more pain, but then you spoke to him and derailed all coherent thought. 

Because he’d heard you. Clear as fucking day. 

That immediately drew his attention, and so did the blood all over your hands. 

There was a lot of it. Way too fucking much for nicking yourself on some glass or whatever bullshit excuse you gave. And Bakugo knew it was bullshit. You weren’t a convincing liar. Well, maybe to some idiot extras you would be, but not to him. He clocked the way you stuttered, the way you fidgeted and averted your eyes. And when you looked at him… fuck, your face was so goddamn guilty. 

Why, he had no idea. 

But he did know one thing. 

You had a healing quirk. There was no other explanation. 

Even if he hadn’t just miraculously recovered the hearing that a doctor told him he would never get back, there were a lot of other little discrepancies. His left arm, for one. Bakugo remembered how it felt when the villain’s asphalt wrapped around his limb, the burning, scalding agony of it. But now, the skin was just pink and barely blistered in some places. 

Then there was the blood. 

When he’d gotten home after ditching the crime scene, Bakugo had immediately beelined for his bathroom to take a shower. But, when he stripped off his hoodie, he realized it was heavier than it should be right before he noticed it was dripping onto his floor. Dripping blood. Without thinking, he’d wrung the hoodie out on the bathroom floor, and a fuck ton of red liquid seeped out of it. 

He had immediately dropped the jacket and started scanning his body in the bathroom mirror, but besides the shallow gash on his abdomen, the burned arm, and a few other minor scrapes and bruises, he was uninjured. 

But… his back was coated in red, and so were the seat of his dark jeans and boxer briefs. It was almost like… he’d been lying in a pool of blood. 

So, you had to be a healer. You just had to be. 

Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to confirm this since the cops had been circling you like vultures. He also hadn’t wanted to be bitched at by any more heroes, or the fucking media, so he made himself scarce. 

But he needed to see you again. Needed to hear the truth from your own mouth. 

And maybe he could coax you into a deal. 

The doctor Bakugo spoke to yesterday obviously hadn’t known what the hell he was talking about. He had made it sound impossible to fix the blond’s ears, and yet you’d somehow done it easily, in the middle of a fucking battlefield. 

With that kind of power, Bakugo wouldn’t have to worry about going deaf or designing stupid hearing aids with some company. 

With that kind of power, Dynamight would become Japan’s Number One Hero in no time. 

But first, he had to find you. 

Resolved, Bakugo shoved the covers off and slid out of bed, but before he could make it to his bathroom, someone started knocking on his front door. 

No, not knocking. Banging. It sounded like they were trying to break the fucking door down. 

“Bakubroooooooo!” 

“Gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” Bakugo grumbled as he padded to his front door. He was only dressed in boxer briefs, but that’s what the idiot got for barging over so early in the damn morning. 

The banging persisted, growing louder and more fervent. 

“I’m fuckin’ comin!” the blond shouted just before he undid the deadbolt and wrenched open the door. 

Eijiro Kirishima, dressed in his Red Riot costume, blinked on the other side of the threshold, his fist still raised to knock. 

“What the fuck, bro?” he asked after a moment of just staring at Bakugo. 

The blond immediately scowled. “That’s my fuckin’ line. What are you doing breaking down my door at six in the damn morning?” 

“Excuse me?” his patrol and agency partner scoffed. “I’m obviously coming to check that you’re not dead since you’ve been MIA for over twenty-four hours.” 

“What?” Bakugo frowned. “I saw you yesterday morning for patrol.” 

“Noooooo,” Kirishima drawled like Bakugo was a particularly stupid child. “That was two days ago, bro. Then that night, I see you all over the damn news, and no one could get ahold of you all day yesterday. I would have come to check on you sooner, but I’ve been having to play damage control with the media because someone decided to blow up a residential neighborhood.” 

“Two days?” Bakugo echoed with a furrowed brow. He’d slept that long? 

“Have you been passed out this whole time, dude?” Kirishima groaned as he shouldered his way into the apartment. “I guess that means you got none of our messages?” 

“Our?” the blond grumbled as he closed the door and followed the redhead to the kitchen bar. 

“Yeah, Denki, Mina, Sero.” Kirishima waved his hand dismissively, marching over to the counter where Bakugo kept the fruit and selecting an apple from the wire basket. “I even asked Izuku to message you, just to see if he’d actually get a rise and response from you.” 

“I don’t need stupid Deku knowing about my problems, Shitty Hair,” Bakugo growled before he stomped over to his fridge to see what he had to eat because he was suddenly starving. 

“Well, that would imply I know your problems, Oh Great Lord Dynamight,” Kirishima snorted and took a bite of apple. “So, what the fuck happened the other night?” 

“I blew up a residential neighborhood,” the blond deadpanned as he turned on his stove, cracking a few eggs into a skillet. 

“Yeah, I saw that. I was more wondering about what led up to it.” 

“What the fuck do you think led up to it?” Bakugo snapped, rummaging through his cupboard for seasonings. “I was walking home from getting a drink, and a damn villain just popped up in front of me.” 

“From what I heard, there were other heroes there, too,” the redhead mumbled around another bite of apple. 

“Yeah, fuckin’ useless extras,” Bakugo sneered as he started to whisk his eggs with a pair of chopsticks, throwing in some leftover white rice and a bit of nori. “They obviously weren’t getting anywhere, and the bastard was tearing up the street, so I stepped in.” 

“To finish destroying the street?” Kirishima cocked an eyebrow, chewing noisily. 

“Fuck off,” the blond said with an eyeroll. 

Internally, though, Bakugo knew the redhead was right. He’d been sloppy, careless, probably still borderline drunk. But he’d just been so angry about the doctor’s appointment, his fucked-up ears, his bleak and silent future. He had just wanted to break something, hurt someone, consequences be damned. 

Except now the consequences were catching up to him. 

Fuck, he didn’t even want to think about what his citizen’s approval rating must be now. 

Silence stretched between the two pro heroes for several long minutes, in which Bakugo finished making his breakfast and Kirishima finished gnawing on his apple core. The blond quickly shoveled a few bites of eggs and rice into his mouth, but his scarlet eyes kept flicking over to the redhead. 

“How bad?” he finally asked. 

Kirishima, to his credit, had learned how to translate Bakugo’s curt grunts years ago. 

“Actually, if I’m being honest, it’s not that bad,” he sighed, tossing the apple core in the trash and scratching at the back of his head. “Could be worse. From the reports I read, most of the damage—besides the road—is superficial. Broken windows, charred and peeling paint, a few busted cars that we’re still trying to figure out if our insurance or the city’s will pay for. It also helped that you saved two people. That definitely softened the blow.” 

“Two?” Bakugo mumbled around one of his last bites. “I just remember the stupid extra on the street that I shoved out of the way.” 

As the memory flashed through his mind, Bakugo frowned. He’d shoved that extra out of the way and got snatched by a giant asphalt hand for his troubles. The blond’s red eyes dropped to his pink and blotchy left arm and then trailed over to his chest. He recalled the sensation of his ribs snapping under pressure, but now only a mild soreness lingered after he took a deep breath. Yet another inconsistency… 

“Yeah, two,” Kirishima said and drew Bakugo out of his thoughts. “Do you seriously not even remember your own heroics? And that girl had such nice things to say about you, too.” 

“Girl?” Bakugo snapped his head up. “The girl whose… apartment I fell into?” 

“Crashed into, dude,” the redhead snorted, but then he narrowed his eyes as a sly smirk tugged at his lips. “But yeah. Sounds like you remember her, huh?” 

Bakugo didn’t like the smug look on his friend’s face. 

“I remember her fuckin’ yellin’ at me.” The blond scowled. “Like I wrecked her place on purpose and didn’t just save her whole block from a lunatic.” 

“I mean, to be fair, if you crashed into my house, bro, I would have yelled at you, too.” Kirishima grinned. “But don’t worry, she’s fine. In fact, when she called the agency yesterday, she asked for you specifically.” 

“She did? Why?” Did she want to confess her healing quirk? Fuck, were there side effects Bakugo didn’t know about? 

“Bro, seriously.” Kirishima rolled his eyes. “You’re Japan’s Number Two Hero, and you saved her life. And, like Mina keeps telling you, you’re not as ugly when you stop scowling.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Bakugo flipped him off before he went to dump the dishes in the sink. 

“Yes, dear.” The redhead smirked. “But, in all seriousness, she called to figure out how to file a claim with our insurance. Or at least that’s what she said, but she also asked how you were doing, and she actually sounded genuinely worried.” 

Worried that a random side effect was going to kill him? Or worried that he would say something about her quirk? She’d obviously hidden it for a reason, tried to lie for a reason. 

And Bakugo was determined to find out just what that reason was. 

“Yeah, well, I’m fine,” he grunted as he rinsed off his plate and put it on the drying rack. “Just a few scrapes and bruises.” 

“I can see that,” Kirishima said as he eyed the butterfly stitches stretched across the gash on Bakugo’s abdomen. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t find you dead in a pool of your own blood. That woulda been a real bummer way to start the morning.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Bakugo muttered before he averted his eyes to the living room window across from him. “So… what did you tell her?” 

“The girl?” 

“No, you’re fuckin’ mom,” the blond scoffed. 

“Oh, speaking of moms, you might want to text Mitsuki. I called her last night after you ignored my billionth text, so she’s probably going crazy wondering where you are.” Kirishima grinned and then immediately dodged out of the way as Bakugo hurled a fork at him. 

“You bastard!” Bakugo hissed. “Now, I’m going to have to see that hag this weekend or she’s gonna fuckin’ barge over here.” 

“Maybe you should turn the ringer up on your phone.” The other hero shrugged, ducking again when Bakugo chucked an apple in his direction. 

The blond scowled at his friend, but he didn’t reply. 

If you and your quirk were the real deal, Bakugo wouldn’t have to worry about missing a call ever again. 

When Kirishima realized the projectiles had stopped, he popped his head over the back of the couch and smirked. “But to answer your previous question, I told the girl we would handle the insurance claim on our end if she sent us her info. And I didn’t really have anything to tell her about you since, like I’ve said, I thought you were dead. Kinda. I was at least thirty percent sure.” 

“Have you filed the insurance claim?” Bakugo asked. 

“No.” Kirishima shook his head. “She hasn’t sent in the info yet.” 

“Well… we should go get it from her.” 

This caused the redhead’s eyebrows to shoot up into his hairline, and the surprise on his face quickly made Bakugo backtrack. 

“I just… want to get this shitshow over with,” he grumbled as he averted his eyes again, but he could feel a traitorous heat crawling across the bridge of his nose. “The longer her apartment’s all fucked up, the longer the press is gonna rake me over the coals. The hero ranking’s aren’t far off, and I’m not going to lose to Deku again over some stupid broken windows.” 

“Righttttt,” Kirishima drawled, but his tone was mocking. “Okay, well, I know the hotel the police have set her up at. After we swing by the agency, we can head that way… to get her insurance info.” 

He still sounded unconvinced and like he wanted to needle Bakugo more, but the blond changed the subject quickly. 

“Why do we have to go to the agency?” Bakugo asked, and he frowned as he glanced back at his partner. “Even if I lost yesterday, my next scheduled patrol isn’t till tonight.” 

“Oh, I know.” Kirishima nodded solemnly. “But Nao wanted to have… a word with you ASAP, if I confirmed you weren’t dead.” 

“Fuckkkkkkk,” Bakugo groaned as he dropped his head back. If there was anything Bakugo hated more than the press, it was his actual PR manager. That old hag was good at her job, which meant she was always up Bakugo’s ass about something, and he knew she was going to have a field day with this shitfest. 

“Yeah, I’d recommend coffee and preemptive painkillers before we head in,” Kirishima said. “Plus, some putting on clothes. Maybe we can stop on the way and get her something sweet as a bribe.” 

“No amount of sugar is gonna make that bitch nice to me,” Bakugo grumbled before he spun on heel and started marching to his bedroom. 

“Maybe flowers then?” the redhead shouted after him. 

Bakugo slammed the door in response. 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

“This is fuckin’ ridiculous,” Bakugo growled around his cargo, kicking his foot out at Kirishima. “Why did I listen to you? I’ve had to go shopping twice today now.” 

“Come on,” his friend laughed as he dodged the blow, which made the bags in his arms crinkle. “You can’t deny the flowers and cookies sweetened ole’ Nao up.” 

“To you,” Bakugo muttered, shifting the package in his arms a bit. “She still yelled at me for fifteen minutes.” 

“Well, you kinda deserved i—yow!” Kirishima yelped as Bakugo kicked him squarely in the ass this time. “This isn’t helping your image, bro!” 

“No one even knows it’s us,” the blond hissed. 

“Yeah, I guess the hoodies and sunglasses help,” the other pro hero mused. 

“And the fact that we’re carrying all this stupid shit.” 

“It’s not stupid.” Kirishima frowned in that earnest way of his, which made Bakugo roll his eyes. “It’s thoughtful to bring gifts to people who are having a difficult time. Especially when you made that time difficult. You basically kicked her out of her house, dude, not to mention her shop.” 

A wave of guilt actually washed through the blond, which he didn’t like. It made his throat feel tight and his stomach churn, and he glanced away from the redhead with a scowl. 

“Tch.” He clicked his tongue. “It’s not like we aren’t gonna pay for it.” 

The excuse felt flat, even to him. 

“Still,” Kirishima said as he shifted the bags in his grip, pulled out his phone, and consulted the map. “It must be stressful. So, we’re going to be nice to her, alright? Which starts with the gifts.” 

“And how is a fuckin’ fruit basket supposed to help?” Bakugo asked as he glared around the overflowing mound of crinkling plastic and bright fruit that he held against his chest. 

“Uh, one, it’s practical. Her apartment’s all fucked up, the power’s probably still out if not inconsistent on the street, and she’s been living in a hotel for two days, so she probably hasn’t had some nice fresh fruit in a while. And two, it looks nice!” 

“We coulda just left this shit at the hotel,” Bakugo grumbled. “She has to go back there eventually, right?” 

After old Nao chewed his ass out, Bakugo and Kirishima had gone to the hotel the police said they’d put you up in. Except you weren’t fucking there, and the number you left with Kirishima when you called the agency was going straight to voicemail, so here there were, fucking trekking through the city with a bunch of useless shit. 

Bakugo just kept reminding himself it would be worth it when he got the truth about your quirk out of you. 

“Nope,” Kirishima said and drew the blond out of his thoughts. “The city only pays the first two days after an emergency, unless the villain caused all the damage, but, uh, that’s not the case here, so we’ll be accommodating her until her apartment gets fixed up.” 

“At the agency?” Bakugo asked as his red eyes clicked over to his partner. 

As the Number Two and Three Heroes, the two of them had built a solid agency together. Bakugo still didn’t care for a bunch of extras riding on his tailcoats, so they had few sidekicks, all of whom reported to Kirishima and left him the fuck alone for the most part. But they owned a nice, sleek building in a nicer part of town, and one of the floors was dedicated to individual rooms with beds and other amenities. They were usually used when Bakugo, Kirishima, or the other sidekicks wanted to crash after patrol instead of going home—which Bakugo did more often than not—but they’d never had a civilian stay on the premises. 

Until now. 

“Yessssss, at the agency,” the redhead drawled as a shit-eating smirk crawled across his face. “So, you’ll be seeing a lot of her for the next couple weeks.” 

“Wipe that stupid look off your face.” Bakugo scowled and shouldered past the other hero, who snickered as he jogged to catch up. 

“Take the next left up ahead.” 

“Shut up!” the blond growled, but he followed the instructions. 

This was good news, though. Bakugo wouldn’t have to trek to this shitty part of town more than he had to. 

And he’d have a healer just down the hall. 

They marched along in silence for a few minutes, keeping their heads down, but there wasn’t much foot traffic. Bakugo was lost in his thoughts, planning out the questions he was going to ask you once he could distract Kirishima, but the redhead suddenly stopped in front of him. 

“Hey,” Bakugo grunted as the fruit basket crinkled against the other hero’s back. He hadn’t even notice Kiri get in front of him again. “What’s the damn hold up?” 

“Holy shit, dude,” Kirishima muttered, staring out at the road he’d just turned onto. 

“What?” the blond grumbled, shoving past his friend, but then he stopped, too. “Oh… yeah.” 

The street in front of him looked much worse in the bright light of midday. The road was a torn-up mess, more patches of dirt and gravel than actual asphalt. Most of the large-scale debris had been hauled away, but black scorch marks covered the sidewalks in long, dark smears. The walls of several businesses also bore charring along the facades, but most of the damage was focused in the center of the street. A crater nearly six feet deep was carved into the middle of the road, and the buildings on either side were blackened, their broken windows gaping voids. 

And then there was the hole in what Bakugo remembered as your second-floor apartment. A tarp hung over the wound, but one of the corners had come undone, flapping in the wind and giving split second glimpses into the darkened room beyond. 

Guilt crept up on him again, but Bakugo shoved it down, hunching over the fruit basket and nudging Kirishima. 

“Come on,” he muttered before he started moving forward, and a moment later he heard the crunch of boots on gravel as the redhead followed him. 

There were more people on this street than on the last several, but Bakugo could immediately tell they weren’t customers just passing through. People swept sidewalks, clearing away the last of the rubble and glass in front of their shops. Then a few old ladies stood under one awning shaking their heads, their hands laden with containers of food or gifts. 

Guess Kirishima hadn’t been wrong with this stupid idea. 

Then Bakugo realized some of those people were starting to look back at him, so he ducked his head further behind the fruit basket, grateful for his hoodie and sunglasses. 

But then suddenly he was there, standing in front of your ruined shop. His red eyes immediately flickered upward, but if there was a sign there before, it was gone now, burnt to ash. 

“What kinda shop did you say this was?” the blond asked under his breath as Kirishima paused beside him. 

“I’m… not sure,” the redhead said with a furrowed brow. “I don’t think she said on the phone. No time like the present to ask, though.” 

Before Bakugo could stop him, Kirishima shifted the bags in his arms, lifted one hand, and knocked on the charred metal frame of the front door. 

“Hello?” he called through the broken windows, followed by your name. “Anyone in there?” 

“Shit!” The squeaking voice was followed by a crashing sound somewhere in the shadows of the store. 

Bakugo didn’t speak a lot of English, but he did know curse words, and the sound of it made his lips twitch in amusement. 

“Are you okay?” Kirishima called out. “Can, uh, we come in?” 

“Yes, I’m fine!” the voice answered back in flustered Japanese. The words were fluent, though, with barely the hint of an accent. “And, um, I-I guess you can come in, but—” 

That was good enough for Bakugo. 

The blond shouldered past his partner, boots crunching over glass as he ducked into the darkened shop, and Kirishima sighed as he followed. 

The interior, if possible, looked worse than the outside. The room itself wasn’t very big, but it was a mess. Two metal rods had been embedded in the left and right walls at odd angles, obviously caused from the explosions, though Bakugo couldn’t tell what they used to be. Several pieces of blacked mannequins were scattered through the debris, and one wall was a charred mess of shelving and fabric, spots of color peeking through the black ash here and there. 

In the back, left corner were the remains of a tri-fold standing mirror, the ones where you could see yourself from different angles. Large shards of glass were missing, though, so the image of Bakugo and Kirishima standing backlit against the street was fractured. 

Last but not least, in the rear, right corner of the store was a counter that was half collapsed to the floor, behind which stood an empty doorframe that Bakugo assumed led to the back of the shop and upstairs. 

And it was from behind this broken counter that you popped up with a dustpan in one hand and a tiny, handheld broom in the other. 

The first thought Bakugo had was your face was rather plain… but in a somehow pleasing way. Like if his eyes had scanned over you in a crowd, something about the line of your jaw, the slope of your nose, the delicate quirk of your mouth would give him pause. 

His second thought was that his first one was stupid. You were just some extra, of course you would be plain and unmemorable. 

But his third thought was something about the color of your eyes was captivating, in a way that was damn fucking annoying. 

“Sorry, I was just… cleaning… up,” you said, slowly trailing off as your eyes met Bakugo’s. 

He saw the recognition flare in them immediately, followed by fear, and he couldn’t help the frown that twisted his face. 

Why were you afraid of him? 

“No, we’re sorry for barging in here like this,” Kirishima barreled on, oblivious to the stare off the other two occupants of the room were engaged in. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Oh! I’m being so rude. My name is Eijiro Kirishima, or you might know me as—” 

“Red Riot,” you breathed, finally tearing your eyes from Bakugo’s, and you flashed the redhead a half-smile that trembled along the edges. “We spoke on the phone.” 

“Yes.” Kirishima grinned, pointed teeth flashing in the dim light of the shop, before his gaze flickered over to the blond beside him. “And this is—” 

“Dynamight,” you finished once again, and you looked like you were trying desperately to maintain eye contact with the hardening hero, but then your eyes clicked back to Bakugo. You didn’t flash him a smile. “We’ve met.” 

“Oh, yeah, right,” Kiri chuckled awkwardly, and his arm jerked like he was going to rub the back of his neck, but the bags in his hands crinkled and stopped him. 

“What… do you have there?” you asked, frowning at the bags and the fruit basket the heroes were carrying. 

“Gifts!” the redhead declared as he hefted his arms up, and then he shuffled forward over charred fabric and glass and extended the bags to you. 

You blinked at him for a second, but you set the dustpan and handheld broom on the counter, where they promptly slid to the floor since the whole surface was slanted. You winced at the loud clatter and tried to cover it up by taking the bags from Kirishima, which crinkled loudly again as they transferred hands. 

Bakugo would be annoyed if he wasn’t more grateful that he could actually hear the innocuous little noise. 

“O-Oh, um, you shouldn’t have, really,” you started as you peeked into the bags, and then Bakugo swore he saw your eyebrow twitch once you saw what was inside. 

“It’s not much,” Kirishima said, and he was finally free to rub the back of his head and neck as his smile turned a little sheepish. “But, what with the state of your… apartment, we thought you might need some new clothes! And comfy clothes are the best after stressful days. These especially are super soft, we made sure of it. And, if you don’t like them, you could always sell them for a good chunk of change.” 

The redhead winked at you, not in an overly flirty manner, that was just how he was, but your cheeks flared as crimson as his hair, and your eyes dropped to the floor. 

Bakugo took the split instant to get a better look at you and noted you were wearing patched, faded jeans, solid boots, and a bleach-stained orange sweatshirt with some English writing he couldn’t read. Usually, he didn’t really see what other people wore because he couldn’t give less of a shit, but somehow he found your obvious cleaning clothes… endearing. The orange looked good on you, too. 

Fuck, maybe you didn’t heal him as well as he thought. He had to be hemorrhaging into his brain to be thinking this stupid shit. Or maybe it was a side effect of your quirk? 

He needed to get you alone and get answers. 

“Well… thank you, this was very thoughtf—oh, wow, that is soft,” you murmured as you partially drew a sweatshirt out of the bag. 

Bakugo instantly recognized the forest green and orange color scheme, and apparently so did you, because your face twitched, and you dropped the garment back into the bag and traded it for fuzzy socks with Red Riot’s signature gears stitched into them. 

“These will definitely come in handy, my feet are always cold,” you said with an awkward giggle. Then you cleared your throat to cover up the sound. “Thank you, um, Red Riot.” 

“You can call me Eijiro, or Kirishima, whatever you’re comfortable with,” the redhead said with another easy grin. “We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other, after all. Oh! We also got you a fruit basket, and I think there might be a few other sweets tucked in there.” 

Kirishima nudged Bakugo forward, and your face rippled through a range of emotions, like your brain was taking a second to catch up to everything the pro hero just spewed. First, flustered embarrassment colored your cheeks, then confusion buckled your brow, and your eyes widened before they looked at the fruit basket Bakugo was extending at you. 

“Oh, you can just put it down… um…” you trailed off as you turned to the counter and remembered it was half destroyed. Then your eyes jumped around frantically for some kind of flat surface, but the ruined shop didn’t offer any solutions. 

“Told ya we shouldn’t of brought this shit,” Bakugo grunted, shooting a scowl at Kirishima. 

“Yeahhhhh, we probably could have just delivered it to your room at the agency, my bad,” the redhead laughed. “But don’t worry, we’ll carry it back for you, along with any of your other things.” 

“My… things?” you echoed, sounding out the words like a child, and a frown marred your face. “I-I think I must be misunderstanding you, I’m sorry, I’m American. But did you say my room at the agency? As in… your hero agency?” 

“You’re American?” Kirishima asked with wide red eyes. “I wouldn’t have even guessed! Your accent is almost perfect, I thought you were maybe just from like the countryside or something.” 

��I thought you said we were supposed to be nice to her,” Bakugo snorted at his partner like you weren’t in the room, and he saw you frown at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Oh, shit, no, that wasn’t what I meant!” Japan’s Number Three Hero immediately began waving his hands in front of his face, his mouth moving twice as fast. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I really think your accent sounds nice! It’s very cute!” 

Now, not only did your cheeks flush again, but the red hue traveled down your throat and across your collarbones, peeking out the stretched collar of your orange sweatshirt. 

Bakugo found himself half distracted by the sight, but the other half was wondering why he suddenly felt irritation flare up in his gut. 

“Okay, you don’t have to take her out on a date now,” the blond snapped, shifting his burden of fruit and plastic. 

“I-I think we might have gotten off track,” you stuttered as you clutched the bag of Dynamight and Red Riot merch to your chest. “You said something about your agency.” 

“Yes, right.” Kirishima cleared his throat. “We would have mentioned this in our follow up email after you sent in your insurance info, but—” 

“Oh, no, I’m so sorry!” you cut him off with a grimace, and you actually dipped your head and shoulders into a bow. “I meant to send that yesterday, but my laptop is broken, and my cell service isn’t great—” 

“No, no, it’s fine!” the redhead interrupted this time. “You obviously have a lot on your plate. I just meant that this might seem kind of sudden, but—” 

Fucking hell, this was taking too long. 

“You’re staying at our agency until we can pay for the repairs to your apartment and shop,” Bakugo said bluntly. If he didn’t step in, the two of you were just going to stammer circles around each other all day. “Starting tonight. We have rooms with beds and shit, so pack whatever clothes or crap you need.” 

Your mouth fell open as you gaped at Bakugo. “I… what?” 

“You deaf or something?” The words rocketed from his mouth before he could stop them, before he could even think about what he was saying, and he saw the way the question struck you like a physical blow. You flinched, your cheeks paling, and he saw dawning, guilty horror glint at the back of your eyes. 

He’d been right. You did do something to his ears. 

“Bro, you were just talking about being nice.” Kirishima frowned at Bakugo before he turned back to you. “Ignore him. We’re really sorry about the inconvenience this whole… incident has caused for you, but we’ll take care of everything you need until your shop’s grand reopening, so you don’t have to worry about a thing, okay?” 

You continued to stare at the two heroes in shocked silence, your wide eyes clicking back and forth between the two of them as you clutched the bags to your chest like a lifeline. 

“That is… all so generous,” you finally breathed, your tone rising in pitch like you were growing increasingly flustered. “It’s, um, a lot to take in.” 

“Of course.” Kirishima nodded fervently. “What else can we do to help?” 

“Could you leave?” 

Bakugo blinked in surprise and then had to stifle his snort. 

“Oh, no, I’m sorry!” you quickly followed up when you saw the redhead’s falling expression. “I didn’t mean… I just meant, could I have some time to process this? Um, alone? L-Like Dynamight said, I need to pack a few things, a-and there are some people I need to speak to before, uh… well, is it okay if I tell someone where I’ll be? Like, at your agency?” 

“Yessss?” Kirishima said with a confused frown. “Why wouldn’t that be okay?” 

“O-Oh, I just don’t really know how the whole hero and media thing works here,” you quickly lied, and Bakugo clocked the way you averted your eyes, the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed thickly. “I-I wasn’t going to post on social media or anything, I barely use that stuff anyway, but one of my customers, Mrs. Kojima, would be upset if I disappeared without saying anything.” 

“Aww, that’s sweet.” The redhead grinned before he glanced at the shadowed ruins around him. “What kind of shop is this by the way? I don’t think you mentioned.” 

“A-Alterations,” you said, ducking your face in embarrassment again. “My grandparents were a tailor and seamstress. I inherited this place from them.” 

“I thought you said you were American?” Kirishima asked, but not in an accusatory way. He was just too curious for his own good and didn’t possess much of a filter. 

Bakugo usually didn’t care for small talk, fucking waste of time if you asked him, but he found himself focusing intently on you, awaiting a response. 

“I am.” You nodded. “My parents were both born here, but they moved to the States after they married, and I was born there. After my grandparents passed, my dad was going to sell the shop, but I was looking for something… new, so I decided to move here instead about a year ago.” 

Bakugo pursed his lips at this new information. If you had a healing quirk, why were you patching up clothes in some little shop all the way across the world from your surviving family? Could it be because your quirk was dangerous? 

“Wow, that’s cool,” Kirishima said with an impressed expression that quickly turned sheepish. “Except about your grandparent’s passing. My condolences.” 

“Thank you,” you muttered, a small smile tugging at your lips, but then you quickly shook your head. “I-I’m sorry, didn’t mean to give you my whole life story, I tend to talk when I’m nervous.” 

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Red Riot laughed like he did when he was meeting shy little kids on the street, flashing his sharpened teeth jokingly and winking in an overexaggerated fashion. “I promise, we look scarier than we are.” 

“Speak for yourself, Shitty Hair,” Bakugo scoffed, which made you jump, like you’d forgotten he was there. 

And that rubbed him the wrong way for some reason. 

Kirishima merely smirked before he partially covered his mouth with his hand and lowered his voice into a stage whisper directed at you. “All bark, no bite, I’m telling you.” 

“Stop making me seem lame, you bastard!” the blond growled, but the effect was kind of ruined by the fruit basket crinkling in his hands again. 

This actually seemed to startle a giggle out of you, and the two heroes whipped around, one with a grin and the other a scowl. 

“See, you don’t need to be nervous,” Kirishima said before he slung an arm around Bakugo’s shoulders. “But we’ll get out of your hair for now so you can have some time to pack and everything. Don’t worry about picking up too much, though, we’ll have cleaning crews in here before we start the remodel, and we don’t want you to get hurt in here. If there’s stuff up in your apartment that you don’t want to bring with you to the agency but don’t want thrown out, make a list, and we’ll be sure to keep everything safe.” 

“O-Okay,” you said, still standing there with the hero merch clenched to your chest and a dumbstruck expression on your face. “T-Thank you again, Red--, erm, Kirishima.” 

“Of course!” He grinned. “I have patrol tonight, but we’ll send a car to pick you up—” 

“No,” Bakugo cut in as he locked eyes with you. “I’ll pick you up. What time?” 

The blond could see Kirishima shoot him a look in his peripherals—probably because they both had patrol tonight—but Bakugo ignored his partner, maintaining eye contact with you. 

You, meanwhile, squirmed under the explosive hero’s intense scrutiny, your face paling and flushing in turns. “I… no, you don’t have to do that, I can take the train—” 

“I insist,” he interrupted again, narrowing his eyes so you would realize he wasn’t going to back down. “Like Shitty Hair said, we caused this… inconvenience, so I’ll pick you up. What. Time?” 

You swallowed thickly, your throat audibly clicking. “S-Seven?” 

“I’ll be here at seven sharp,” Bakugo said. “And you better be out front or at least answer your phone this time.” 

You better not run, he didn’t say, but by the look on your face, you understood. 

“Seven sharp.” You nodded, biting your lip as a resigned expression settled over your features. “Got it.” 

“Great. See you then.” 

With that, Bakugo turned on heel and crunched his way out of your store, leaving Kirishima stuttering apologies in his wake. 

But that didn’t matter. 

All that mattered was, tonight, he’d finally get you alone and get to the bottom of your damn quirk.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Nothing On But The Radio

Pairing: Jared x Jensen  Rating: 18+ Tags: SAXX, clothing kink, dirty talk, degradation, blowjob, anal fingering, object insertion (DO NOT try this at home - not safe), anal sex Word Count: 2.7k  Created for: @spnkinkbingo - SAXX | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Dirty Talk Prompt: @downanddirtydean 's 500 follower celebration challenge: “The internet is more than just naked people. You do know that?” - Congrats on the milestone babe! 

“The internet is more than just naked people. You do know that – right?”

Jared jumps in his chair as Jensen comes up behind him on set. He had been scrolling through the SAXX website to stock up on a few necessities, which isn’t necessarily embarrassing, but still not something you want people looking over your shoulder while you’re doing. “They’re not naked, Jensen,” Jared scoffs, going back to adding more pieces to his cart. “And stop stealing my lines,” he adds as an afterthought when he realises that Jensen was quoting Sam to him.

“Okay, mostly naked,” Jensen laughs and leans over the back of Jared’s chair, their heads almost touching, but not quite.

“Dude, do you mind?” Jared chuckles and tries to put some space between him and his co-star.

“Yeah, I mind. Lemme see,” Jensen grabs for the phone and starts scrolling through Jared’s cart. “I want to pick something out.”

“Why? So you can steal them for yourself?” Jared grins.

“No, so I can tear them in half before I fuck you in them,” Jensen whisper-growls into Jared’s ear so no one else can hear him. Jared goes bright red, checking no one is near enough to overhear them. “What, you embarrassed baby boy? Don’t want everyone around here knowing a big, strong guy like you lets himself get fucked in the ass every night?” Jared is pretty sure he’s stopped breathing. “Don’t want them to know what a little whore you turn into the second I get you alone and on your knees?”

“Jesus, Jen, fuck,” Jared gulps and steadies himself, trying to get a handle on the erection that is starting to push a little too insistently against his zip. “Shove the dirty talk, will ya? We’ve got a whole other scene to film before they let us outta here.”

“So is that a yes to buying whatever I pick out?” Jensen smirks.

“Yes, fine,” Jared concedes and sinks back in his folding chair. “Just nothing pink, yeah?”

“Oh, I am one hundred percent buying you the pink ones now,” Jensen grins and Jared drops his head into his hands. Why is his boyfriend such a doofus?

Their little exchange is all but forgotten until Jared drops by his trailer and sees Jensen waiting on the steps for him, brown cardboard box in hand.

“Terri dropped off a package for you,” Jensen waves the box around in case it hadn’t been obvious to Jared what he meant. “I told her I’d be sure to give it to you,” he grins. Jared’s heart skips, knowing exactly what is in that box. Well – not exactly what is in the box. He knows everything he added to his cart before Jensen got hold of his phone, but Jen hit ‘purchase’ before he passed it back, and deleted the receipt, so there was no way for Jared to figure out what Jensen had ordered.

“Why do I feel like there’s a decent chance you’ve hidden a bomb in here,” Jared asks as he gingerly takes the package from Jensen and pushes into his trailer.

“Because you’re weird,” Jen laughs, staying on the pavement. “They need me for blocking checks but we’re done in time for dinner if you’re free?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Jared nods.

“And, Jar–” Jared turns back around at Jensen’s call. “I count on seeing you in those tonight.”

“Which ones?” Jared calls back, a feeble attempt at a joke.

“Oh, you’ll know which ones,” Jensen laughs, and Jared can feel the hunger in it. He gives Jared a perfunctory salute and makes his way back to the soundstage, leaving Jared with his new package.

As soon as the trailer door is shut, Jared tears into the box. The relief he feels upon not seeing any pink is immediate, but it’s closely followed by suspicion about what Jensen actually did buy him. He quickly skims through the items and finds the culprit – a pair of black briefs that are really testing the limit of the definition of ‘briefs’. Jared is positive that these will barely cover any part of his body, and when he tries them on a few minutes later, his suspicions are confirmed. He looks like a hooker in a g-string. Almost certain that he is going to regret this later, Jared pulls his jeans back on over the new underwear and gets redressed.

When Jared and Jensen stumble back into their shared apartment later that night, very much worse for wear courtesy of the new whiskey bar downtown that Misha recommended to them, Jared had mostly forgotten that he’s wearing ridiculously skimpy underwear. Jensen, on the other hand, hasn’t been able to get the image of Jared in the tight black briefs he’d bought him out of his head – and now he wants to see if the real thing measures up to his imagination.

“Right, J-rod,” Jensen claps once to get Jared’s attention and points to their bedroom, “bedroom, strip, now.”

“Romantic Jay,” Jared grins dopily but does as he’s told.

“Trust me, ain’t nothing romantic about what I’m planning on doing to that ass of yours,” Jensen laughs and follows Jared, catching the recently-shed flannel Jared flings down the hallway at him.

“Bettin’ on it,” Jared smiles, stripping out of his t-shirt in the doorway to their room and dropping it to his feet. Jensen can see the waistband of Jared’s underwear peeking above his jeans, the little ‘SAXX’ right in the centre of the deliciously cut vee of Jared’s hips. Jensen wants nothing more than to run his tongue along the line straight to Jared’s cock – and then he realises there’s nothing stopping him, so he drops to his knees in front of his boyfriend and does just that. He drags his tongue across Jared’s skin, smiling when he hears his intake of breath, and moves lower and lower until he reaches the ‘SAXX’ label and sucks it into his mouth. Jared jumps when Jensen lets it go and the elastic snaps back against his stomach. “Jerk,” he whines.

“Shuddup ‘Sam’,” the intonation is heavy in Jensen’s words and he drops into his ‘Dean’ voice, grinning as he undoes the button and zip on Jared’s jeans, tugging them down harshly and leaving him bare except for the skimpy underwear. “Unless you want me to make you my bitch tonight?” Jensen uses his Dean voice again as he leans into mouth against the erection straining in Jared’s briefs, the black cotton bulging so much Jensen’s surprised Jared actually fit himself inside them in the first place – now he was hard they barely cover anything.

Jared moans at the feeling of Jensen’s mouth against his cock. Something about getting sucked off through fabric always hits a bit differently than just having someone’s mouth on your dick, and right now, with Jensen suckling intently on the tip of his dick through his briefs, this is hitting exactly the right spot for Jared. “Fuck,” he whimpers, threading his fingers through Jensen’s hair, “Jen, you know if you want me to be your bitch, all ya gotta do is ask,” Jared pants, looking down to meet Jensen’s eyes, which are smirking up at him from where he still has his lips wrapped around Jared’s dick.

Jensen pulls off of Jared with a grin and gets to his feet. “Yeah I know, baby boy,” he coos and pulls Jared in for a heated kiss, tongue pushing its way between Jared’s lips, hot and wet. “Now, be a good little bitch and go get yourself ready for me, yeah?” Jensen smirks as he watches Jared nod and trip over his own feet in an effort to get to the bed quickly. He gets the lube out from the nightstand and goes to take off his underwear but Jensen hurries over to stop him. “Nuh uh, sweetheart. Keep those on for me,” Jensen orders with his hand clenched around Jared’s wrist.

“Sure,” Jared gulps, wide eyed, and moves his now slick fingers behind him and sneaks his hand beneath the waistband of his briefs to find his entrance. Jensen watches Jared hungrily as he fingers himself open, undressing all the while; plaid, then t-shirt, then jeans, then boxers – all one by one dropping to the floor. Jared moans when Jensen starts to stroke his own cock, admiring the drop of precum that’s already spilling over the dark pink tip. “C-can I?” Jared stutters, eyes locked on Jensen’s fingers moving slowly up and down himself.

“Yeah, c’mere baby,” Jensen kneels on the bed and shuffles closer so Jared can reach him with his mouth. The second he’s near enough, Jared sucks Jensen between his lips, running his tongue along the underside all the way to the hilt, until his nose is pressed snuggly against Jensen’s hip. “Fuck, forgot how much of a cockslut you are when you’re drunk,” Jensen chuckles deeply, combing Jared’s hair back off his forehead so he can watch him start to move up and down on his dick. “That’s it baby. Shit, your mouth feels so good,” he groans, closing his eyes and bucking his hips into Jared’s eager throat. “Such a good little slut letting me fuck your mouth while you finger that ass open for me. Got you wrapped around my little finger don’t I, bitch?” Jared moans around the cock in his mouth but Jensen doesn’t let up enough for him to get a proper answer out. “Yeah, thought so,” he scoffs.

Jared hums and moans around Jensen’s cock as he continues to finger himself. He’s definitely stretched and slick enough now, but he loves the feeling of Jensen using him like this, so he’s not gonna stop until Jensen tells him that’s what he wants him to do. After a few more minutes of Jensen fucking his throat, Jared feels him start to tense and jerk, and he knows Jen is close.

“Stop, stop, fuck baby,” Jensen groans, pulling Jared off his cock by his hair, and drawing a whine from the younger man. “Don’t want me to cum before I get the chance to fuck that ass, do you?” Jared shakes his head weakly, still pushing his fingers lazily in and out of his hole. He whimpers when he pulls his fingers out, and Jensen smirks down at him as he tries to once again take off the pair of SAXX. Jensen catches Jared’s wrists and holds them behind his back, pushing him onto his stomach. “I didn’t say you could take those off,” he growls against Jared’s ear, nipping at the skin and pulling another whimper out of him. Jensen sits up, keeping Jared’s wrists pinned in one of his hands while he reaches for the lube with the other to slick up his cock. “Your ass looks so good in these baby, look like such a little tease.” He lands a harsh slap against Jared’s backside, making Jared jump and cry out. “Imagine if all those fans saw more than just the label peeking out over your jeans, saw what a big man whore you look like with nothing but these on.”

“Jen, please,” Jared groans, humping against the bed to try to get some kind of friction or relief. “You want me to beg, I’ll beg, please for the love of God, put your cock inside me.” Jensen just laughs and spanks Jared again, even harder this time. “C’mon Jen, please, need you,” Jared pants, looking over his shoulder to catch Jensen’s eye. The desperation on his face is clear as he moans – “Need something inside me, please Jay.”

“You need something inside you baby boy?” Jensen sympathises, relinquishing his grip on Jared’s wrists, but the look of mischief in Jensen’s eyes makes Jared nervous.

“Yes, fuck, please,” Jared begs again.

“We can fix that,” Jensen smirks, reaching forward to grip just under the waistband of Jared’s briefs and wrenching the seam apart, the underwear ripping easily under Jensen’s violent influence. Pieces of the briefs come away in Jensen’s hand and he grins, getting an idea. Eyeing the shine of Jared’s hole, Jensen gathers some of the lube leaking out and smears it over the cotton, which is already damp with lube and Jared’s precum where his cock had been leaking. Bunching up the sopping cloth, Jensen pushes a finger into Jared to check he was still adequately open, then he shoves the torn material inside.

Jared chokes on his moans in surprise at what he’s feeling. The ball of cotton is pressing just against his prostate and it’s a very weird sensation but he can’t deny it feels good. “Fuck Jen,” he groans, pushing off his stomach and onto his hands and knees. Jensen lets out his own groan when he sees Jared’s hole winking up at him, showing him glimpses of the black cotton he’d just shoved inside him. He ruts his cock along the seam of Jared’s ass, catching the tip on the edge of his hole and dragging groans from both men. Jensen can’t hold himself back anymore, and he finally pushes himself into Jared, moving agonisingly slowly to tease the younger man as much as possible.

“You dick,” Jared pants, dropping his head to rest against his arms and pushing his hips back into Jensen’s cock, forcing him the rest of the way inside.

“Someone’s eager,” Jensen tries to keep his tone light, but now that he’s inside Jared, who keeps clenching his ass around his cock in an effort to get him to do something, he’s lost the majority of his composure.

“Just fucking fuck me already,” Jared hisses, bucking his hips back again. Jensen is tempted to make Jared wait, and beg for it – tease him until he’s crying in desperation – but he knows even he won’t last that long. As he draws out and snaps his hips back in, the tip of his cock brushes against the cotton he’s shoved into Jared and the sensation is electrifying. The little bit of slick friction just on the tip of his cock every time he fucks into Jared is so fucking good, he can’t get enough, and his pace turns frantic quickly. “Fucking hell, fuck yes,” Jared moans beneath him, spurring him on even more. “You fuck me so fucking good baby, shit, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’–” Jared’s words trail off into unintelligible whimpers as Jensen pounds into him mercilessly.

“Yeah, fucking love how good you take it baby. Gonna cum on my cock like a good little whore? My good little bitch, huh?” Jensen grits out breathlessly, draping himself over Jared’s back and angling his hips so he knows he’s dragging his cock over Jared’s sweet spot with every push in.

“Fuck, please, please,” Jared whimpers, turning his face to Jensen’s and clumsily trying to press their lips together. “I– I’m.. fuck,” Jared keens and Jensen growls his approval against his ear.

“C’mon, cum for me baby boy, wanna feel you cum,” Jensen snarls and he feels Jared let go, his hole spasming around Jensen’s cock as he empties himself in long white ropes onto the bed beneath them. Feeling Jared lose control is all that Jensen needs to go over the edge himself. He finally lets himself cum, grunting as he slams his hips into Jared one last time and stills, the tip of his cock pressed against the ball of black cotton still nestled inside Jared, now covered in Jensen’s cum. That thought brings a satisfied smirk to Jensen’s lips.

When their breathing has settled, Jensen carefully pulls out of Jared and rolls off of him, collapsing on the bed. Jared drops on top of him, nestling into Jensen’s chest and giving him a small kiss.

“That was really hot Jen,” Jared smiles drunkenly – though whether he’s drunk on whiskey or his orgasm, Jensen can’t tell.

“Just like you, baby boy,” Jensen says softly, kissing the top of Jared’s head.

“But,” Jared says shiftily, glancing up at Jensen.

“But?” Jen prompts, defensively.

“How am I supposed to get this fucking underwear out of my ass?”

Tag List: @vulgar-library @tintentrinkerin @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @whoreforackles @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @delightfullykrispypeach @05supernatural20 @akshi8278 @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @lovealways-j @stoneyggirl @walkersbabygirl @austin-winchester67​ 

[novaiya]

After Midnight - Arthur Morgan, Micah Bell.

Summary: Having spent the entire day traveling with Sean, Charles and Micah, Arthur wants nothing more than to let the sleep overtake him. His plans are sidetracked when Micah wouldn't leave his hotel room, and Arthur has to concentrate hard to ignore the man and his talk as he tries to fall asleep.

Words: 2,313

Warnings: none.

AO3 Link.

A/N: Long story short, I was able to trigger a “Companion” bug in which camp members can follow you on your adventures around the world. Google/Search it on YouTube to get a better sense for what I’m talking about. Anyway, I got Micah, Charles and Sean. I robbed and killed with them for a few hours before deciding to call it a night and went into a hotel. I got Arthur a bath, and as I’m laying in the bath, I see an icon moving toward Arthur’s room. When I left the bath and went into the hotel room, who did I see lol? Micah wouldn’t leave the room no matter what, so Arthur slept with Micah watching over him. Only when Arthur woke up the next morning did Micah finally leave the room. Weirdly enough, only Micah stayed with Arthur in the room, not Sean or Charles, though all of them were supposed to follow Arthur wherever he went.

~ ~ ~

It was nice to hang out with the guys for a change. More often than not, Arthur was alone; he would go hunting alone, collect bounties alone and help people around the country, alone. He enjoyed the solitude, of course, but something about riding with his fellow gang members down the dusty plain, all of them on their respective horses, had him treasure every minute of it. The conversations that they engaged in were a welcomed change to the usual silence that accompanied Arthur on his journeys, and the safety in numbers did not go by unnoticed. He could feel, as they passed by fellow gunslingers and bounty hunters on the road, eyes watching them warily. No one dared to look at them wrong, just the sight of all four of them, with iron on their hips and scars on their faces, made any attempt dissipate as fast as their horses did down the dirt path.

The night had fallen when they rolled into town. The shops were closing down, saloons becoming quieter and streets emptier as they rode through the Main Street. Arthur could feel a yawn make its way up his throat and did nothing to stop it. The day was long, with enough endeavors to last some people a lifetime, and he wanted nothing to do than to wash it away and go to sleep.

As they continued their way up the Main Street, Arthur saw a hotel; a small construction that by the looks of it barely stood together with the rotten boards and rusty nails, but with no other options, it would have to do.

Despite offering them, Sean and Charles declined spending the night in the crappy hotel and said they rather camp outside of town. Arthur didn’t have a chance to extend the same offer to Micah (not that he wanted to either) for the fact that he couldn’t find him (he went to the general store), so after bidding the guys goodnight, he went into the hotel, paid for a room and a bath and went to the latter first.

The first few minutes of being submerged in the water were always the best. Arthur could feel every ounce of stress leave his body along with the dirt. These few moments of peace always made him think of his dog, and despite the fact that the boy was long gone, he always smiled when he remembered him.

As okay as he was with bathing in rivers and lakes, he much preferred the steaming hot water of a hotel bath. He took the time to thoroughly wash himself, sliding the wet rag up and down his arms, legs and back. A satisfied groan would leave his lips now and then as he washed his hair, adding a slight pressure to massage his scalp.

After he finished cleaning himself, he took a deep breath and reclined against the rim of the bath. The smell of peppermint soap filled his senses and with the soap bubbles acting as a blanket, he felt himself drifting off to the dream world. A commotion outside made him let out an exhausted sight and open his eyes. He furrowed his brows as he heard someone enter the room next door, his room.

Perhaps it was Sean or Charles taking him up on his offer, deciding against bunking with coyotes and skunks.

He heaved a deep groan as he exited the bath. After drying himself off and putting on a fresh pair of clothes, he went to his room.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Arthur said as soon as he entered the room.

Micah’s back was turned to Arthur as he stood by the window of the room, looking outside. The town was quiet and all its citizens asleep. Micah enjoyed the nighttime, the quietness and calmness it provided. Like all the nighttime creatures, Micah felt the most comfortable when the sun was set and the moon loomed over.

“Well,” Micah said as he turned around, holding a cigarette between his fingers, “As you forgot to invite me, I decided to take matters into my own hands and welcome myself in.”

“Get out of here,” Arthur said as he moved across the room to a nightstand by the bed, removing his satchel and placing it there. He made a point of ignoring the man by the window as he took off his gun belt and placed it next to his satchel.

Micah didn’t move from his spot by the window, though he wasn’t looking through it anymore. As he held the cigarette between his fingers, puffing on it from time to time, he watched Arthur remove his belt, his jackets and his boots, all while his back was to him.

As Arthur turned around, ready to start pulling down his pants, he saw that Micah was still there, eyeing him in such a way that Arthur all of a sudden felt flustered.

“You still here?” he said.

Micah motioned with his hands and shrugged his shoulders without saying anything, implying that Yes, as you can see, I’m still standing here.

Micah moved from his position near the window to lean against a dresser in the center of the room.

Arthur wondered why he hadn't pushed Micah out of the room yet, and why he was now pulling his pants down, stripping down to just his Union suit in front of the man he’s known all 5 months. Not that the length of time they’ve known each other would have an effect on whether he would strip in front of him or not, but still. Perhaps he was too tired to pick a fight.

When down to his sleepwear, Arthur sat at the edge of the bed. The sleep had long passed him, and he was sharply aware that Micah wasn’t moving from his place by the dresser.

“Are you just gonna stand there?” Arthur said.

“Do you want me to stand somewhere else?” Micah replied.

Arthur rolled his eyes before saying, “Aren’t you going to sleep?”

Micah placed the cigarette back between his lips and inhaled the smoke. He kept his eyes on Arthur as he let the smoke escape in a cloud in front of him. After wetting his lips with his tongue, Micah replied as a matter of fact, “I don’t sleep.”

“You don’t-You don’t sleep?” Arthur said, a genuine surprise in his voice at what Micah said. Now that he thought about it though, he realized that he has actually never seen the man sleep before. He’s never seen him sleep, never seen him in his sleepwear and never even seen him lay down. In fact, he didn’t even think Micah had his own tent or a cot to begin with.

“Nope.”

“That’s a load of crap,” Arthur said and waved his hand at Micah, “Everybody's gotta sleep.”

“Not me.”

Despite how outlandish the statement sounded, Arthur found himself believing Micah; If the wrinkles and bags under the man’s eyes were anything to go by.

As if it only now dawned upon him, Arthur cocked his head at Micah and said, “So what did you come here for then? Watch me sleep?”

Micah chuckled, the same way he did when he wanted to undermine someone or simply be an ass.

“If that’s what you want, cowpoke,” he said.

Arthur was far too tired to engage in a pointless verbal quarrel with Micah.

Without replying anything else, he shook his head, got under the thin covers of the hotel bed and turned his back to him, determined to not let the presence of the blonde man ruin his rest.

The sleep didn’t come to him as easily as he hoped. He was hyper aware of Micah behind his back, and in the dead silence of the night, could hear the faint sound of him inhaling the cigarette smoke. He squirmed in the bed, tossing and turning as if the position was at fault for his restlessness and not Micah Bell the Third’s eyes which he could feel on his back.

“I had a brother once,” Micah said, breaking the silence, “Suppose I still do.”

Upon hearing Micah’s voice, Arthur stopped moving and laid still, listening.

“We ran together for a while; me, him and our pa. Did a lot of good stuff. Did a lot of bad stuff. You might’ve even read some of it in the papers,” Micah added with a snicker. “I trusted him. We was brothers, beyond the sense of the word.”

Micah was silent for a good while after, letting his words settle in the air and letting his own thoughts settle as well. The images of all the vile savagery they’ve done together; robbing, stealing, killing, assaulting; flooded his brain, and he couldn’t help but smile at the recollection. The smile fell however, as he remembered what followed after; his brother's hesitations, his wanting to go straight and to leave the life behind. The anger that always boiled inside of Micah came on raging as he remembered the last time he and his brother talked before the latter bailed on him and his father.

Any jest left his voice as he continued. “And then he found himself a whore, knocked her up and hightailed to the West. Last I heard he’s living a cushy rancher life in California.”

The cigarette between his fingers was long forgotten, the cinder from it falling to the ground.

Arthur was now laying on his back, his head slightly towards Micah. “What’s his name?”

“Amos. Amos Bell.”

Arthur let the newfound information settle in his head, before he finally asked, “Why are you telling me all of this?”

Micah shrugged his shoulders before saying, “Thought you might like a bedtime story, seeing as you couldn’t fall asleep.”

Arthur groaned before closing his eyes and said, “Remind me to never let you near Jack.”

Whether it was Micah’s “bedtime story” or the exhaustion finally getting the better of him, but within a few minutes Arthur was out, sprawled out on the hotel bed, light snores coming out of his open mouth.

Micah, just as he said, didn’t sleep all throughout the night. He smoked a couple more cigarettes, drank some whiskey, checked the cabinets and the dressers, and even read Arthur’s journal. The man was deep in slumber, judging by his snores, so Micah didn’t feel any hesitation to reach into his satchel and pull out the one item that Arthur was always protective over.

He casually flipped through the pages; a drawing of a horse, a drawing of a bunny, another drawing of a horse, a portrait of a random camp member, another drawing of a horse?! For a moment, he thought Arthur was carrying around Jack’s drawing journal, with all the doodles of horses and squirrels and birds that he saw there. That was until he started coming upon short chronicles and daily logs, some of them detailing mundane things such as the bounties Arthur caught or strangers that he helped, other, more grim, such as plans of bank robberies and the friends who had fallen.

As he flipped through the pages, a log caught his attention.

November 12, 1898

Got into a bar fight when Dutch tried to sell that gold we found few weeks back. The locals don’t seem to take too kindly to strangers in these parts. Can’t blame them. We was fighting to an inch of our life when a stranger joined in. I wasn’t sure if he was on our side or not, but when the opposition started dropping, I understood. Micah Bell's name is, I think. Dutch offered him to join the gang, and he accepted. Not sure what I think of him yet. He seems hot headed and reckless, but he’s good with his guns and that’s all that matters. We’ll see.

As he flipped to the next page, something that almost never happened with Micah did; he was caught by surprise.

The very next page after the previous log was fully dedicated to a portrait of him. His mouth hung ajar as he looked at himself on the paper. The carefully drawn eyes, the long, unkempt hair, the horseshoe mustache, and his classic white hat. Even the fire and the fury in his eyes was translated onto the paper, and in the top right corner, two letters in cursive, MB.

All of a sudden, Micah felt flustered, another emotion that rarely made an appearance. He shot close the journal, a little too suddenly, and his eyes flew to Arthur’s sleeping form on the bed. He was sprawled on the bed, sheets entangled in his legs and his arms above his head, still sleeping. Micah walked to the nightstand where Arthur satchel was and slid the journal back inside before going to his previous position by the window.

The night was as dark as ever, with the sky littered with innumerable stars. Micah lit yet another cigarette and brought it to his lips. He hesitated for a moment, sending a side glance to Arthur. Vulnerable and frail, asleep and practically naked, Micah could kill him right now. No one would hear a thing as he’d plunge the knife deep into Arthur’s chest, killing him so quickly Arthur would barely have a moment to open his eyes. It would take hours for them to realize something was wrong, and at that point, Micah would be long gone, his horse’s footprints the only thing left.

A small rasp from Arthur brought Micah back to reality. He shuffled a bit, turning to his side before pulling the covers tighter over his body. The night once again fell quiet, only the sound of coyotes crying in the distance. Micah stood motionless for a few seconds, his hands itching, before he turned his attention back to the window and put the cigarette back to his lips.

[yikesharringrove]

Nb model Steve? Maybe Billy is a photographer who's known for his artsy and alternative photos and Steve is an up and coming model who has to deal with a lot of misgendering in the industry? But Billy is one of the first photographers who really respects their pronouns and what he's comfortable wearing

Read on Ao3

-

Steve didn’t know what to expect when they got on location.

They loved being a model, felt so comfortable in front of a camera, had even gotten to do some runway work for New York Fashion Week this year.

But the issue, is that they only get work as a male model, where they’re expected to be hyper masculine and all macho.

It’s the fucking worst.

But their agent had gotten them this shoot, promised that it wouldn’t be like the last one, or the one before that, or the one before that.

They took a deep breath before entering the building.

“Hi, Steve Harrington, checking in.” The woman smiled at them, tapping on her phone.

“Great, let’s take you through to hair and makeup. Mr. Hargrove will want to speak with you before you begin.” She led Steve through to the warehouse.

Steve had never worked with Billy Hargrove before, but his name preceded him. He was known for beautiful shoots with models way beyond Steve’s recognition and caliber. Shooting campaigns for high end designers.

“So, I was never informed what campaign this is for.”

“This is for Mr. Hargrove’s personal portfolio. He chooses to freelance various projects he believes in.”

“Wait so, this is like, just for him?” She pulled Steve aside.

“He’s putting together an art book, but do not tell anyone you heard that. He’s going to announce it in a few months. Limited run, all that. You’ll be getting a share. He feels paying models is extremely important.” Steve just nodded, they’re eyes big.

“Sorry, how did I end up on this project?”

“Oh, Mr. Hargrove is a fan of your work. Asked for you by name.”

Steve was in hair and make up now, being ushered into a tall chair. The woman, probably Mr. Hargrove’s assistant, took off again.

Steve closed their eyes, figured they would be getting a light foundation, maybe some contour to sharpen their jaw, that kinda thing.

They zoned out, just let the makeup artists do their work.

“Steve Harrington. Good to meet you.” Steve opened their eyes, was met with The Billy Hargrove.

“Mr. Hargrove, it’s an honor to meet you. I’ve a very big fan of your work, especially on the most recent Dior campaign, those images were beautiful.”

“Oh, call me Billy. And I loved your work with Jonathan Byers. I think that was about three years ago, now? I’ve been trying to make arrangements to work with you since those were published.”

Steve furrowed their brows. Those pictures featured Steve in a lot of makeup, and lingerie in most of them. Billy was studying their face.

“Have you done their hair yet?” Steve’s eyes were wide.

That was the first time they hadn’t been misgendered on a job.

“No, Mr. Hargrove.”

“If you can make it look like they just have it now, I like the kinda of, wild thing that’s happening. And maybe make the gold a little bolder. I really like the look.”

Steve hadn’t washed their hair in a few days, usually the hair artists would wash it before they began anyway.

Billy smiled at them one last time before leaving again, and Steve got a look at themself in the mirror.

Their eye makeup was a pretty ballet pink, gold glitter packed onto their eyelids. Their face was contoured to look feminine, the way the did their own makeup.

When they finished with hair and makeup, they met Billy in wardrobe.

He was flicking through a rack of clothes.

“Hey! You look great.” Steve flushed.

“So, what are you comfortable in? I’m looking to explore humanity in all forms. I’m working with artists that inspire me through their realities. You’re pretty much the top of that list.”

“Wait, I’m not following.”

“Your gender identity and expression, the way you wear your body in the most authentic way possible. I’ve seen your work. Those images with Byers are so beautiful, so much moreso than anything else I’ve seen of yours. Your confidence exuded through the image more than anything I’ve ever seen. It was inspiring.”

“So, you’re gonna let me do this my way?”

“Of course. I’m showcasing you, whatever that means.” Steve nodded at him once.

They began rifling through the clothes, making a pile of things they liked, what they thought would look good with the makeup.

“And I’m pretty much comfortable with anything.” Billy raised one eyebrow.

“Nudity?”

“If you want.”

“Could that cause you any dysphoria, though?” Steve blinked at him.

“Jesus, that’s the first time I’ve ever been asked that on a shoot.” Billy’s smile slipped.

“Seriously?” Steve shrugged. “Not even with Byers?”

“Well, I mean, that doesn’t count. We’ve known each other since we were kids, and I was just getting into modelling, and him into photography, so that was kind of to build up both of our portfolios at the time. I did my own hair, makeup and costuming.” Billy raised one eyebrow.

“But apart from working with a close friend, you’ve never been asked about dysphoria.” Billy said it as a statement, like he was trying to wrap his head around the idea.

“And it’s funny, because I usually get dysphoric in menswear shoots, but most people hire me as a male model.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry, Steve.” They shrugged.

“It is what it is. Not a lot of gender noncomforming or just straight up not cis models in the mainstream. There’s a few, don’t get me wrong, but not many, and very few household names. I just figured I need to be versatile for now, and eventually, I’ll have enough of career I can start making demands. Taking up space.”

“Still, it sucks that you gotta pick and choose like that. You should be able to just, do what you want.”

“That’s easy to say, mister photographer.” Billy smiled bashfully. “Look, thank you for taking time to research me and know what I’m all about. This experience has already been a lot better than most of my other shoots.” Billy clapped them on the shoulder.

“Hey, you’re my muse. I’m just excited to be working with you. I’ll leave you to get changed, we’ve got some wardrobe assistants standing by if you need help.” He swept out of the curtained off area.

Steve decided to begin with a light blue slip dress, matching silk panties.

They had help getting into the gold chunky heels, and made a bit of a show of walking those few feet to set.

Billy was staring darkly.

“You look beautiful.” Steve grinned at him, taking a seat on the white settee.

Billy was very easy to work with.

He let Steve take some liberties, try a few things out, and would direct from there, telling Steve how to adjust their body.

Steve felt in control, felt beautiful and confident. 

Steve had taken off the slip, was posing in just the blue panties, now sitting on a windowsill, the New York skyline behind them.

Steve stood up, and dropped the little panties, kicking them away. Billy nodded, still looking behind the camera.

“Beautiful, Steve.”

They stood in nothing but the heels, had been given a piece of fabric to drape around their body, or not if they so pleased. Steve held it aloft, looking at the camera with their best bitchy I’m above you look.

Billy had them do the same with six other outfits, slowly strip out of them throughout the shoot.

The set was closed, only a handful of people in the room with them as Steve languished around.

Billy nearly lost his damn mind at an image of Steve, their back to the camera, in nothing but red pumps, sitting in a middle split on the windowsill.

“You’re a fucking genius, Stevie. Gorgeous!”

It was hours before the shoot had finished, and Steve was given a plush robe and a latte.

“Steve.” Billy jerked his head towards the table in the corner, Billy’s cameras and laptop sitting on top of it.

Billy pulled another chair up to the table, let Steve sit on the first one.

“I just want to go over the shoot with you. You can pick the shots you like the most, and we can see which ones are right for my project. I’m publishing an art book. I’m sure Miranda already told you, she tells fucking everyone.” He had loaded the images from the day onto the laptop.

They clicked through them, sitting just the two of them, everyone already having left for home.

“Oh, wow.” Billy had stopped on an image of Steve with the large piece of gauzy fabric. It was draped over their shoulder, put hung to the floor, doing nothing to cover their body. “Look at your face. This is what I was taking about. The confidence, you just exude don’t fuck with me energy. It’s beautiful.”

Billy would often do that, point out minute details in Steve’s body language or facial expressions and explain the ways they were captivating.

And it made Steve feel captivating.

“You’re really beautiful, you know that?” Steve was far too aware of how close Billy’s face was to theirs.

“I really felt it today. Thank you.”

“You are ethereal. I’m not kidding.” Billy’s eyes flicked down to their lips. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

Steve sighed when Billy kissed them, just a light press of his lips to theirs.

“I’d like to see you again. Cook you dinner? Or take you out? You pick.” Steve sat back.

“Like a date?”

“Yes.”

“You wanna date me?”

“Yes.”

“Is that why you wanted to work with me?”

“I wanted to work with you because you are so beautiful it’s inspiring. I want to date you because on top of all that, you’re kind, and sweet, and driven.”

“Um, yeah, then. I’ll go on a date with you.” Billy beamed. “But I don’t put out on the first date, and just because you photographed me naked does not mean you get to fuck me anytime soon.”

“Oh, of course.” He looked serious. It made Steve melt a little.

“And I’d love it if you cooked for me.”

“Then my place. Friday. Seven o’clock. Wear something nice. I may not be able to resist photographing you.”

“Yeah, yeah, Sweet Talker. I’m allergic to bell peppers and I think mushrooms are gross, so steer clear.”

“Drat. There goes my idea for mushroom stuffed bell peppers.”

“Darn. Looks like we can’t go out, then.” Billy laughed.

“I’ll text you my address. And my house will be properly de-mushroom and bell peppered for you.” Steve smiled.

“I appreciate it.”

[turning-dreams-into-chaos]

Banished (Part 52)

~Banished~

Word Count: 8.5K

~Master~

*Based off episode 4x07 of the 100, Gimme Shelter*

*Bold/Italics are Trig!*

Previously... 

“Took every last drop of fuel, but I did it. I can put her down on the water just offshore.” Murphy and Luna approached her slowly with frowns. “We can survive.” When their expressions didn’t change, Raven’s stomach dropped. “What’s wrong?”

“Clarke just radioed. They lost a barrel.”

“What?” Raven gasped out.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered but Raven couldn’t hear him. She started sucking in for a breath, her head paining her as she clutched it. “Raven?”

Raven’s seizure caused her to collapse on the ground. Murphy took off running, calling for Abby as loud and as fast as he could. Luna fell to the ground as well, trying her best to protect Raven’s head before seeing her mouth starting to foam. “Raven, it’s going to be okay. It’s okay, Raven.”

10 barrels.

Make that 9 now.

---

Octavia had no plan after she left Arkadia, roaming the woods on Helios’ back as she found herself mentally lost. She needed to escape, but now that she did, she didn’t know where to go. Thunder ripped through the sky near her but she wasn’t focused on the sound with the feeling of being watched creeping up her spine as she looked over her shoulder.

Ilian, having followed since he left as well, was jumping between the trees to hide himself yet he didn’t do as good a job as he thought. Octavia sighed as she stopped her horse and climbed off, ducking behind a tree before Ilian could see her. He approached the recently rider-less Helios slowly, holding his stomach in pain. Once he was close enough, Octavia made her move, standing behind him and holding a knife to his throat.

“Why are you following me?” She asked, not pulling the knife away.

Ilian took a calming breath, hoping to appease to her. “You won’t survive out here alone.” He turned to finally look at her, seeing the deadly glare she wore. “Let me help you.”

Octavia tore the knife away in anger. “You’ve helped enough.” She climbed back onto Helios, wanting to leave Ilian but he won’t let her.

“You’ve spared my life. I owe you.”

Octavia locked her jaw, his offer worthless in her eyes. “I don’t want anything from you.”

Thunder cracked through the sky again, this time lightning accompanying as Ilian and Octavia looked up, watching the storm that clouded over the skies. Once the rain started falling, they knew it would only get worse. It burned as it hit their skin and the burns started spreading. “Strange Rain.”

“Get on.” Octavia mumbled as she pulled her hood onto her head, hiding herself from the rain’s access. When Ilian didn’t listen, she yelled. “Now!” Helping him up to ride with her, Octavia winced and took off the moment Ilian was on and ready, riding them both to safety.

---

Bellamy drove the rover back to Arkadia, the silence killing him as he looked over to the passenger seat, wishing more than anything you had came back with him. The sky above was dark, thunder echoed in his ears as he pulled the rover to a stop. Kane was waiting for him as Bellamy exited, meeting him the middle of the camp.

“Welcome back.” Kane spoke but was interrupted by a nasty boom of thunder, everyone looking up in the sky. With the fear of the black rain upon them, they were all prepared when the first few drops fell onto them.

“Black rain.” Kane and Bellamy exchanged wide eyes before yelling, telling everyone to sound the alarm and get inside right away. It was a madhouse, people abandoning their spots everywhere to rush inside, not caring if they were pushing and trampling others. As Bellamy tried to get inside himself, there was only one person on his mind. “Kane! Where’s Octavia?” Kane couldn’t answer him for he was too busy trying to get people to safety.

The rain was pouring harder every second, burning the exposed skin of everyone. Unfortunately for Harper, her skin became more exposed as a man tripped, grabbing her shirt and pulling her shoulder free. “Let go of me!” She screamed and pushed the guy away. He landed on the ground, feet tramping over his back as he cried out in pain. Harper tried turning back for him, but with the fear of the black rain, she left him.

As people entered into the ark, clothes were stripped and black rain was washed off. Bellamy almost got his shirt off before hearing the screaming of the man still outside. He stopped changing. “Kane. Someone’s outside.” The older man’s head shot around, grabbing his coat as Bellamy and him raced against the rain, grabbing the fallen Arkadian and bringing him back to the ship. Once the man was inside, Bellamy and Kane doused themselves in water again, but Bellamy still wasn’t done. “I need to find Octavia.”

Kane looked at him, shaking his head slightly. “She’s not here. She took off hours ago.”

Bellamy’s heart stopped. His sister was out there? “I have to find her.”

He started towards the door to leave but Kane stopped him, keeping him from chasing after his long gone sister. “Bellamy, we don’t know where she went. You just got back and the rover doesn’t have enough power to go searching through the woods.”

Bellamy didn’t want to hear him out. “The rain will kill her!”

Kane spoke over Bellamy’s words. “She’s smart! She’ll find shelter, okay!” Bellamy tried to keep himself calm, giving Kane a slight nod as he took another look outside before closing the door. Kane moved to the rest of the crowd, speaking to them as she started to strip his own clothing off. “Remember the drill! All wet clothing in the designated zone!” People began asking him questions, wanting to know if everyone made inside. Kane needed them to stay focused. “Check in with your section leaders. We’ll get a head count when we can.” Water was being splashed everywhere, everyone trying to clean themselves.

Through the noise, the radio on Kane’s side rang through, a man’s urgent voice on the other side. “Hello? Can anyone hear me? We’re caught in the rain and it burns!” Everyone in the Ark listened to the wincing of the man in pain. “We’re trapped in the rubble just north of the factory crash. Please! Can anyone hear me?”

Kane took the radio, taking a breath as Bellamy stood next to him. “This is Chancellor Kane, I hear you.”

“Kane! Kane, it’s Mark Colton. My son, he’s soaked with black rain. Please, you gotta help us! Hurry!”

---

Octavia and Ilian were fighting against the rain, trying to get to safety as fast as they could. The rain continuously burned them as they rode into a cave, sliding off the horse and quickly taking their top layers of clothes off. “There’s fresh water.” Octavia panted as her clothes came off, Ilian’s as well before they scrubbed themselves clean in the water.

Their burning finally subsided as Ilian picked his head up, looking to Octavia for information. ��The black rain. What does it mean?”

She groaned. “It means we’re stuck here. Doesn’t mean we need to talk.” She splashed herself one last time before standing up. “I need to wash off my horse.” She grabbed Helios’ saddle blanket and dunked it into the water. She noticed Ilian was watching as she glared at him. “Why don’t you make a fire? You’re good at that.” She growled before walking away, leaving Ilian to stew in her words.

---

After Clarke, Roan and your arrival on Becca’s island, Clarke went to her mom right away, having Jackson show her to the lab. She was astonished as she walked in, looking out amongst the lab Becca had constructed. When Abby heard her daughters voice, her features softening in relief as she smiled. Clarke made her way down the stairs, meeting her mom at the bottom.

“God, it’s really you.” Abby breathed out, cupping her daughters face. The image of Clarke covered in radiation had haunted Abby, but seeing Clarke here and safe made up for it. Jackson left the Griffin women alone. “Where’s Y/N and Roan?”

Clarke nodded, grabbing her mom’s wrists to lower them. “They’re unloading the fuel with the others. I just needed to see my mom.” Abby knew her daughter well enough to know the look on her face meant she was blaming herself for the fuel loss.

Abby offered a consoling hug. “Don’t punish yourself.” She whispered in her ear. “Going to space was a long shot.”

Clarke and Abby pulled away, a frown still evident on Clarke’s face. “It was our only shot.” The screen over Abby’s shoulder showed a brain scan, Abby confirming Clarke’s assumption that it was Raven’s. Telling Clarke about Raven’s seizure and stroke, Clarke become worried for her friend, although her mother assured her Raven would recover. Clarke was also worried about her mother, bringing up what Jackson had told her earlier about Abby’s condition. Again Abby, assured her everything was alright with her. Clarke hesitated for a moment after their conversation. Raven and her mom were both having problems- or her mom might soon have problems- but she couldn’t help but be a little worried about you in this moment. “Mom, is it possible the City of Light could leave… side effects for someone?” Clarke asked, feeling the timing right to know. Abby’s brows furrowed, uncertain what her daughter was asking. Clarke tried again. “I don’t mean like with Raven, I meant something more… mentally.”

Abby stopped for a second, thinking over what little they knew. “It’s possible.” She told her, knowing that they truly had no clue what the Flame did. “Why do you ask?”

Clarke knew that she promised you she wouldn’t tell anyone, but her mom was a doctor and this was your brain. “Y/N might’ve said something. I was hoping you’d know what to do?”

Abby let out a breath, putting her hands on her hips. “I could give her a brain scan? Make sure-“

“Make sure it wasn’t a stroke like Raven?” Clarke filled in and Abby nodded, again seeing how worried Clarke was. The conversation ended as Abby walked over to the microscope, Clarke follow and growing confused as Abby looked inside. “What is that?”

“It’s Luna’s bone marrow. A theory of Jackson’s and I’s that should remain untested.” The thought of using bone marrow was too similar to Mount Weather, an unsettling feeling remaining in Clarke’s stomach.

“What theory?”

Abby sighed and spun out of her chair. “We can’t create Nightblood unless we go to space. But Luna can.” She moved to the other side of the table, continuing her lab work. “Theoretically, we can inject ourselves with her bone marrow.”

“Then we become Nightbloods.” Clarke filled in the blank once again as Abby nodded. “Will it work?” Abby did believe that bone marrow could be the solution and Clarke didn’t get the problem. “So why’d you take it off the table?”

Her face falling, Abby took a deep breath. “The only way we’ll know if it works is to test it, and if we test it…” Her sentence trailed off, thinking about outcome of the only known solution.

“We’d be exposing someone to radiation.” Clarke understood the problem, but this could save everyone. “Can we do that here?”

Clarke’s question caught Abby off guard. Surely her daughter didn’t really want this. She nodded. “Becca was trying to find a cure for cancer using this radiation chamber.” She told Clarke as the girl looked over her shoulder, seeing the ready to use death trap. “Clarke, we would have to expose a human to enough radiation that it would implode every single cell in their body.” Abby’s words were slow, trying to get her point to hit. “That’s what’s coming for us.”

“I know.” Clarke stopped her. “But you said it, we have no choice.” There was one thing Clarke was missing here, something she hadn’t caught until Abby told her they had a choice to make. Her face fell, realizing what it meant. “Who do we test?”

“Hey Emori.” At the sound of Jackson’s voice entering the room, Clarke and Abby looked up to find him speaking to Emori who had already been in the room, overhearing everything Abby and Clarke just discussed.

Emori tried to play it off, she didn’t hear anything. “I’m heading up to the house. Does anyone want anything while I’m up there?”

“No, we’re fine. Thanks, Emori.” Abby turned down her offer. Emori wanted to get out as soon as she could, wanting to head back to Murphy and tell him her new learnings. Emori was worried. Out of everyone here, she knew she was the outsider and if Clarke and Abby needed someone to sacrifice someone, it would be her.

---

Louis, the man Kane and Bellamy had rescued wasn’t doing so good. He had burns over his chest and arms, his breathing interrupted constantly by coughs and sputters as Harper tended to him. The guilt was eating away at her. The hangar bay had been converted to the med bay overflow, many people in almost the same condition as Louis laying inside. Kane had entered, taking a look around as Harper approached him. “I need to get him to med bay.” She stressed, wringing the towel in her hand with worry.

Kane was apologetic as he denied her. “Med bay’s full.” He mumbled, looking to the tortured man. “Even with treatment, he wouldn’t survive this.” Harper wanted to protest but she couldn’t. “I know it’s difficult, but we have to prioritize.”

“I’m the reason he’s not going to survive this.” Harper admitted, glancing towards Louis on the bed. “He reached for me and I didn’t help him.”

Kane knew Harper was blaming herself but there wasn’t anything he or the girl could do. “Help him now. Make him as comfortable as possible.” Harper let out a scoff, tears willing their way free but she didn’t let them, instead nodding and letting Kane leave.

Bellamy was in the Hangar as well, donning a protective suit- more duct tape than suit- as Kane approached him. “Everyone else accounted for?”

Kane nodded, watching Bellamy get ready with curiosity. “Jaha and Monty reported back for sector 5. All 200 of their people are safe. All other sectors are still counting. We’re down two.” Kane mumbled, thinking about Mark and his son still trapped in the rain.

“Not for long.” Bellamy assured him as he taped a part of his arm.

“Bellamy, the fire damage to that suit could cause tears you can’t even see, much less seal.” Kane was worried for Bellamy’s safety. Of course, he wanted his people safe, but was it worth risking Bellamy’s life for it? Kane stopped Bellamy from taping more. “That’s Mark Colton out there. I know him, he’s resourceful. Right now, he’s under an overhang out of the rain.”

“His son Peter was one of the 100.” Bellamy wasn’t going to let Kane stop him. “I’m doing this.” He moved to walk pass the man but Kane grabbed his arm, keeping him from leaving. Bellamy looked him dead in the eyes. “Y/N would go.” He whispered. Kane’s grip faltered until he finally let go of Bellamy, knowing Bellamy was right.

The rain was pouring harder than ever as Bellamy walked out, his only protection being the suit. It was working, keeping the black rain from him, but only for a minute. He starting groaning in pain, picking up his pace until he was sprinting, slipping every so often in the rain. Kane watched from the door, yelling at him to turn around but Bellamy refused. He ended in the rover, stripping the suit off and washing off the black rain stuck on his arms. He was in pain, trying to rub the pain off as Kane spoke through the radio.

“You were right.” Bellamy groaned as he continued to strip off the top layers of his clothes. “The suit is worthless.”

“You gotta come back in. Bring the rover to the airlock.”

Kane’s orders were cut off as Mark spoke through again. “Bellamy, its Mark. Are you there?” Bellamy knew leaving them wasn’t going to be an option. He replied back to Mark. “Are you on the move? Peter doesn’t look so good!” Mark was coughing and Bellamy and Kane could hear the rain in the behind the stranded two.

“He’s been through worse. We’ll get through this, I’m on my way.” Mark thanked Bellamy before Kane told Bellamy to go to a private channel. Bellamy slid into the driver’s seat, not wanting to waste another second. “No more lectures, Kane. I can’t find my sister, but I do know where they are.”

Kane watched as Bellamy started to drive the rover out of the camp. “Just listen! No unnecessary risks. You come home safe.”

Bellamy nodded, his shaky breathing not helping his confidence. “I got this.” He told Kane but he knew he was telling it more to himself. He could do this. He could save Mark and Peter.

---

After helping with unloading the fuel, you headed back to the house. It wasn’t like anything you’ve ever seen before. The white walls seemed to turn the corner forever and it was clean, cleaner than anything you were used to. It was obvious you didn’t belong here, like you would leave a stain if you touched anything. You didn’t let it stop you, dragging your fingers slowly across the walls as you followed the sound of music. It led you to a seating area, a dining room and kitchen attached, but that wasn’t what caused you to stopped walking.

In the kitchen was John Murphy, dancing to the music. He hadn’t seen you enter, his back turned to you as you smirked and began clapping. “Nice moves Murphy.” He practically jumped out of his skin as he spun to see you leaning against the wall. He rolled his eyes and took a playful bow, moving back to his cooking. You looked around the kitchen a little, opening a few cupboards before jumping up to sit on the counter to watch him.

He scooped up a bite on his spoon before walking over to you. “Here, have some.”

You looked at it skeptically before smiling. “You didn’t poison it did you?” Murphy let out a sarcastic laugh as you happily took the bite. It was delicious, so much better than the shit you’ve been eating back at Arkadia. “Damn. Who knew the cockroach can cook.” You joked and Murphy roll his eyes despite the proud smile on his face. He moved around you, coming in front of the cookbook next to you and you playfully gasped. “You can read too? How did I not know this?”

“I know what you’re thinking. Why are all the good ones taken?” He joked and it was your turn to laugh.

“Yeah, that’s so what I’m thinking Murphy. You’re a mind reader, too?” you playfully kicked his leg. The back door opened and you turned around, seeing a girl you vaguely remember from after the City of Light entering. She gave you a once over before coming to Murphy and wrapping her arms around him. The sight honestly made you miss Bellamy, regretting not going back with him. Emori looked at Murphy, obviously wanting to have a conversation you knew you probably shouldn’t be a part of. “Okay, well, I’ve had a long day and the kidnapping was the cherry on top, I’m gonna get cleaned up.” You jumped off the counter, offering Emori a smile before beginning your hunt through the house.

Murphy nodded, wiping his hands on his pants and starting to follow you. “Let me show you where to go.” He offered.

“Upstairs. Down the hall.” Emori blurted out as she grabbed Murphy’s arm, keeping him from leaving. You looked down to his arm before awkwardly thanking Emori and leaving. Murphy raised his brow at Emori as soon as you were gone. “We’re getting out of here.” She left his embrace as Murphy groaned, not understanding his girlfriend’s problems. “I’ll explain on the way to the bunker.” She started filling her pack with everything they would need.

“I already told you the bunker’s not an answer. What’s going on? Did you see something out there? Are the scavengers back?”

Emori wasn’t done with her packing. “Even scavengers wouldn’t do to me what your people will.” She mumbled.

Murphy just grew more confused. When Emori moved passed him to continue, Murphy stopped her, needing her to explain now. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“They’re going to sacrifice someone to test Nightblood.” Emori finally told him and Murphy’s face fell. “Who do you think that’s going to be, huh? Clarke? Raven? Y/N? I’m the outsider John, the Freikdrana.” Her words were rushed out as she began to hyperventilate and collapse. Murphy pulled her back up to her feet, comforting her and told her to tell him everything.

You finally found what you assumed to be your room based on Emori’s minimal instructions. When you turned the light on, you were shocked. It was much larger than your bed back at Polis and the future inside looked brand new, the bed made beautifully and the couches framing the fire place added a warmth to the room. You took your jacket off, tossing it onto the couch with the rest of your things as you continued to look around.

The shower was even more than you expected and it took you a second before you figured out how it work, hearing the cascade of hot water before you stripped your clothes off. The hot water on your muscles was more than you could ask for as you stood still and let the water fall down your back. To say you wanted to stay in here forever was correct.

Unfortunately, you did have to get out and put on your clothes again. You considered heading back downstairs, seeing if Clarke was back from the lab yet but by how much she said she was looking forwards to being with her mom again, you doubted she left. Emori and John were probably doing whatever it was they were doing together and so deciding on no other options, you stood in front of the bed. The mattress was soft as you pushed your hand into you, temping you to lay down and you couldn’t wait much longer. Letting out a sigh of satisfaction, you pulled the blankets over you, only increasing your comfort. You closed your eyes, trying to enjoy the luxury as much as you could. As cozy as the bed was, nothing beat the feeling of falling asleep in Bellamy’s arms, but he wasn’t here.

“Comfier than the beds at Polis?” your eyes opened slowly and you licked your lip in annoyance pushing yourself up to look at Lexa sitting on the couch.

“Oh cool. You’re here too.” You joked, hearing her chuckle. You laid back onto the bed. “Do you ever take a break?”

“And where would I go?”

You cocked your head, realizing she had a point. “I forgot you were in my head.” You admitted, rubbing your face. The spot on the bed next to you was empty and you wished Bellamy was here again to get you to sleep like he always did. You were about to ask Lexa why she was here this time but a crash coming from somewhere in the house stopped you. “What was that?” Lexa didn’t respond. You pushed yourself up again, feeling your nerves start through. “Lexa?” When you came to the answer that the crash wasn’t from Lexa or in your head, you stopped waiting, grabbing your knife from your bag and heading downstairs slowly.

There was clattering happening as you kept walking, trying to find the source before coming to an office. “Murphy?” you called out into the dark room. “Murphy, if it’s you, tell me before I stab you.” you mumbled, trying to keep your breathing level as your grip on your knife tightened. You turned the light on when he didn’t answer and when you did, you figured the sound to be coming from an open window and the blinds moving from the wind. You sighed, letting your guard down and moving closer to close it. “What kind of person leaves a window open during a storm?” you mumbled to yourself but your words died out as you approached the window, tilting your head when you saw the huge hole in the window. The window wasn’t open, someone broke in.

The entry way creaked as you turned around and throwing your knife in warning. Murphy’s eyes were wide as you sent your knife flying near him, landing in the wall just to his left as he threw his hands up in surrender. “It’s just me!” He assured you and you let a breath, glad you didn’t hit him. “Listen, we need to talk about Clarke and Abby.”

“Quiet.” You told him and Murphy was taken back. “Someone’s in the house.” You stepped aside, letting him see the broken glass on the windowsill.

Emori, unknown to the presence of an intruder, was still trying to ransack the mansion, saving all she could for her and Murphy. She was digging through a cabinet, grabbing the can goods inside but once she closed it, a man was waiting on the other side of the door. He attacked her, throwing her on the floor as she fought back but he was overpowering her greatly. “John! John!” She yelled out as the man grabbed a knife.

From down the hall, Murphy and you heard Emori’s shouts and Murphy took off, not sparing a glance to see you running off behind him. When you entered the kitchen, the man had Emori pinned to the ground with a knife over her. Murphy grabbed a cutting board. “Get the hell off of her!” He screamed before slamming the cutting board into his face, sending the intruder backwards. You rushed to help Emori up as Murphy tried to hit him again, but Emori stopped him.

“Wait!” She yelled as Murphy began his swing, abruptly stopping himself. “He’s mine.” She tried standing up, leaning on you until she was on her feet. She didn’t last long however, falling into Murphy’s arms. “You son of a bitch!” Murphy held her back and did know what to do, watching Murphy kept his girl from murdering. “If we don’t kill him now, he will kill us.”

You furrowed your brows, stepping between Emori and this man. “Wait a minute, do you know him?”

Emori finally stopped fighting, giving the man a death glare. “Baylis.”

Baylis was panting as he tried to sit up. “She’s lying. You don’t know me.”

Emori fought out of Murphy’s grip. “You said you’d kill me! Well, guess what planhaka, I’m gonna kill you!”

Baylis started to stand up and being quite confused on the situation, you decided it was best not to let him leave. You pointed your knife at him, getting it close to his face. “Don’t move.” He put his hands up, pleading to you.

“Just let me go and I’ll leave the food. You’ll never have to see me again.”

You shook your head, needing more information. “Is he alone?” you asked Emori.

“Not usually.” Her harsh whispered worried Baylis as she walked slowly towards him. “Where are the others?”

He just shook his head, looking between the 3 of you. “I don’t know who the hell you think-“

Emori cut his sentence off with a swift kick to the jaw, sending him back again. “Stumucha!” you watched her continue to kick him as you called out to her. She stopped her attack, turning to you with blood dripping from her head as she got in your face. “You don’t know what he did to me.”

You shook your head, understanding her dilemma. “You can tell me about it later, right now we need to know if he’s alone.” You moved past her, looking to Murphy. “Can you tie him up?” Realizing the only weapon you had was your knife, you pulled a steak knife from the drawer, handing it to him. “Here.” He looked down at the knife before back up to you who shrugged. “Protection.” He took it and you looked back to Emori, frowning at the injury to her head. “Can I clean that? Clarke can fix it up later, but can I clean it now?” Emori watched Murphy around you both before she turned to Baylis and you had to grab her attention. “Murphy won’t let him go. Will you, Murphy?”

Murphy let out a laugh, holding a cord he’d stolen from a coffee pot and moving to tie Baylis’ hands behind his back. “Not a chance. We’re gonna have some fun.”

You rolled your eyes at Murphy, before seeing Emori nod. “Fine. Tie him up, but when he’s done talking, the kill’s mine.” Emori walked past you, heading upstairs as you sighed, seeing Murphy finish tying Baylis up before following after her.

---

Bellamy was battling against the rain as he tried to get to Mark and Peter. He could barely see out the front window. “Mark. Come in.” He spoke on the radio, hoping they’re still alright. “Coming up on Factory Station. Almost to you. Over.” He waited, looking between the radio and the road. “Guys, you read me? Don’t go quiet on me now.” Still no reply and Bellamy was cursing the rain and the fact he took so long. “Gonna need help navigating once I’m past the wreckage.” He waited for the response, Kane listening in as well back at Arkadia.

“Yeah I’m here!” Mark yelled into the radio as both men let out relieved sighs. “We’re northwest of the salvage area at about 15 degrees. Just follow the-“ Mark’s sentence was overpowered by the wind and rain, Bellamy getting worried as Mark yelled out for his son repeatedly. “The wind shifted! The rain is blowing in!”

Bellamy shook his head, trying to speed up the rover. “You need to find something to use for cover.” He told them, but there was nothing. The overhang Mark and Peter were under no longer offered any protected and they were burning. “Look south. You should see my headlights in 2 minutes. I’m-“

Lightning struck not far from Bellamy but it managed to give Bellamy enough light for him to see he was headed straight for a tree. On instinct, he turned the rover fast, and the wheels spun out from under, stranding Bellamy in a mud pit.

“Bellamy, I don’t see lights. Where are you?”

Bellamy tried to get out of the mud, backing up, going forward, but nothing worked. “Damn it!” he groaned. “Just a minor delay. Hang on.” Mark came back on the radio, saying that they couldn’t wait but Bellamy didn’t know what to do. On the private channel, Kane tried asking Bellamy what was wrong. “Stuck in the mud. Gonna use the winch to get me out.”

Kane was quick to shut that thought out of Bellamy’s head. “Negative Bellamy, you have no suit and I can hear the rain over the radio. Please, just wait for the storm to pass.” He waited for Bellamy to answer, but obviously Bellamy was reluctant. “Is that clear?” Mark interrupted their talk again, still believing Bellamy to be on his way. “Bellamy, if you go into that storm, three people die instead of two.” Bellamy shook his head, closing his eyes real tight as he thought about anything to help. “You’re out of options. It’s time to let go.”

“You’d said you’d be here. Where the hell are you?”

Realizing Kane was right, Bellamy was heartbroken. “What am I supposed to tell them?” Kane heard the defeat in Bellamy’s voice, knowing how much Bellamy needed this save.

“The truth.”

Giving himself a moment of silence, Bellamy finally told Mark. “Mark. Peter. I can’t get to you.” Mark wasn’t willing to give up. He brought up the idea of meeting Bellamy and carrying Peter himself. “It’s too far Mark. You won’t make it.” Bellamy knew there was no way Mark could make it, let alone carrying Peter. Bellamy barely made it to the rover, let alone through the woods. “I’m sorry. Your only chance is just to wait a little long and when the rain stops, I can dig out.”

“My son is dying! You said that you would help us! Please!”

Bellamy started to break down, his breathing speeding up as he tried again to get the rover moving but it was no point. Mark and Peter were going to die. “No!” he banged on the steering wheel. “No!” He kept shouting over and over again, wishing if he kept hitting, then the rover would start moving.

---

You weren’t a doctor. Not one bit. You tried your best to clean Emori’s wounds, making sure not to hurt her so Clarke could stitch her up if need be. “Should’ve known Murphy’s girlfriend would be a badass. I think you did more damage to him.”

“Not enough yet.” You raised your brows for a moment, aware of Emori’s desire for revenge. She caught your look, giving you a scoff. “Don’t tell me you’ve never killed for revenge.” You let your hand fall, not giving Emori an answer because the truth was, your first kill, the one you will always remember, was for your revenge. She picked up on your look, now knowing you had. “I’m going to make him suffer for what he did to me and my brother.” You listened to her, watching her cross the room as she spoke. “I’m gonna cut him for every time he cut me. I’m gonna make him beg the way I begged.”

You stood up and gulped before calling her name. “We’re not going to let him hurt you again.”

She let out a pitied laugh. “I don’t need you to protect me, Y/N. I can protect myself like I always have.”

“I know what that’s like.” You told her. You’ve been your own protector since you were 8. Trusting others to protect you hasn’t been as easy as you hoped.

Emori shot her head to yours, scoffing at you. “Like hell you do. I was cast out of my clan as an infant because of this.” She held up her hand, showing you her deformity before she went on. “I was forced to steal to survive. Forced to kill.” She looked at you with distrust. “You were loved. Told you were special. I was thrown away like someone’s garbage. You know nothing of my pain.”

“I don’t.” you agreed. She eyed you up and down. “I don’t know your pain Emori, but you’re not the only one with baggage. I was never told I was special. My mom and dad killed themselves when I was 8 and blamed me. I was arrested when I was 10 and forced to spend another 8 years in a prison lockup with no one until I was shipped down to earth, where I was tortured and banished more times than I wasn’t. Our pain is different but it’s still pain.” She didn’t know what to say. Her ideas of who you and who your people are were knocked down. You laughed at yourself, wetting your lips so you could talk again. “Look, if you wanna kill this guy. Go ahead. I know a thing or two about needing revenge. But it’s not gonna make you whole again. It’s not going to take away your baggage.”

As you had taken Emori upstairs, Murphy stayed down with Baylis, keeping him tied to a chair as he circled around the man. Baylis of course was trying to plead for his life. “I only came for food and things I can trade. I scavenge so my family can eat. Please!”

Murphy scoffed at his attempt. “That’s it. Find the right angle.” Murphy pressed the knife you handed him to Baylis’ leg. “I’ll help you out.” He leaned down to speak into Baylis’ ear. “I love someone who was beaten and tortured by a man who thought he could control her.”

“I’m not that man.” Baylis stopped him. “You can torture me all you want but that won’t change the fact-“ Emori and you had walked into the room, right in time for Emori to punch the guy in the mouth. You stood off to the side, doing nothing to stop her like Murphy thought you would.

“Who’s the scared child now, Baylis?” She threw another hit. “For my brother.” Another hit. “For me!”

Murphy turned to you, seeing you watch emotionless as he narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going to stop her?”

You shrugged, not turning away. “It’s not my place. Besides, he’ll die in Praimfaya anyways.” You told him.

An idea made way in Murphy’s mind, one that quite possibly be the best one he had in a while. “Wait stop!” He yelled out and grabbed Emori, keeping her from attacking Baylis. “You’ll kill him.”

“That’s the point.” Emori growled, trying to get free from Murphy.

“No, I mean, what if his death could save everyone.” Murphy asked and Emori froze. You, having no clue about Abby and Clarke’s theory stood against the wall confused.

Emori and Murphy shared a smile and you decided to speak up. “What are you talking about?” you asked the couple. They didn’t say anything, the thought of using Baylis as the tester instead of Emori sat perfectly with them. “Guys?”

---

Tensions in the cave where awful, Octavia and Ilian’s shelter from the rain, while keeping them safe, was not their favorite scenario. Ilian tried making conversation with Octavia, but she just stared at the fire in front of her and sharpened her knife. “Where will you go?” Ilian broke their silence. “When the storm passes.” Octavia didn’t say anything, leading Ilian to continue. “I don’t know either. If I go home, Ill see their faces everywhere and in everything.” The death of his family still clouded his mind. “The windmill I helped my father build to grind the corn for sheep. The room I shared with my brother. The fence…” His paused, gulping as the image of his mom flashed through his mind. “The fence I tied my mother to before I cut her fingers off.” Memories of the rest of his families followed his mothers. “Before I cut my father’s throat. Before I cut my brother’s throat.”

“Go home Ilian.” Octavia was growing tired of Ilian. “You’re not a murderer. You feel the way you’re supposed to feel after you take a life.” Their eyes met before Octavia looked back down to the knife. “I feel nothing. Now go back to your stupid sheep.”

“I don’t believe you.” Ilian shook his head in defiance. “I saw the pain in your face when you aimed that gun at my head.”

“We’re done talking.”

“You may not want to feel it, but it’s there.”

Octavia was irritated, not only with him but with herself. “I should’ve pulled that trigger.”

“Why didn’t you?” Octavia mumbled for him to shut up but Ilian wouldn’t listen. “You think you’re a killer, but you couldn’t kill me. Whatever escape from the pain you were looking for wasn’t there anymore.” Ilian could tell he was getting to her, the lost look on her face more than enough to show him. “I told you my sad story. Tell me yours. What made you like this?” Once again, Octavia yelled at him to shut up, not wanting to talk about… Lincoln. She planted herself in front of the fire and Ilian moved to her side. “I think the person you were before this happened is still in there.”

Octavia tried to ignore the thoughts in her head, each one filling her with nothing but pain. “You’re wrong.” She whispered before standing up. Ilian didn’t know what she was doing but she did. She walked slowly straight to the cave entrance, her eyes falling close and arms stretching out as she got closer. She wanted to walk out into the burning rain. Ilian chased after her, calling out her name before he finally caught up to her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back into the cave. “No! No, I need this! Let me go!” She yelled as Ilian and her fought, the man succeeding as he brought her back fully inside the cave, safe from the rain. “I should’ve killed you!” she yelled before slapping him. Her attack cause Ilian to faulter enough for Octavia to run by but she didn’t get far. They landed on the ground, Octavia still struggling to get out of the cave until Ilian had her on her back, her hands pinned above her head. “Let me go, please!” she cried out but he wouldn’t let her kill herself.

“Stop. Just stop.” He whispered and Octavia knew she couldn’t fight anymore. Her cries overcame her as she stopped fighting, aware of Ilian’s body above hers. She didn’t want to feel this pain and this heartbreak anymore. Ilian let up a little, letting Octavia move out from under him, but before he got much farther, she stopped him, shocking him when she kissed him.

Ilian wasn’t expecting that. He stood up, looking down at the broken girl. “Just make me feel something else.” She begged him as she stood up, coming face to face. Not sure on what to do, Ilian didn’t make a move, mumbling her name in case Octavia changed her mind. She didn’t however, pushing him against the wall to sit as she then sat in his lap. Their eyes met briefly before their lips, both of their broken feelings disappearing only for a little while as they lost their clothes, not wasting time while stuck in the rain.

---

Abby was pacing about Becca’s lab as she thought about every option you all had. Testing out the bone marrow meant sentencing someone to death. Could she really do that? She put her tablet down, feeling her hand shake as she tried to take a deep breath to calm.

“Abby, are you there?” Kane’s voice came through the radio on the desk as Abby’s spirits lifted.

She rushed to pick up the radio, speaking as soon as she could. “I’m here.” She smiled. “It’s so good to hear your voice.”

As much as Kane wanted to listen to Abby’s voice as well, he had to be the bearer of bad news. “I have bad news, Abby. The black rain’s here.” Abby’s spirits fell immediately as she listened to Kane speak. “It’s worse than we thought. It burns on contact and it kills. After today, the water won’t be drinkable and we’ve already lost what we had stored in the fire. We have enough for a couple of weeks, but after that-“

“I know what happens after that.”

“We need a solution.” Kane mumbled, resting his head against his hand. Abby did have a solution, she just didn’t know if the solution was the best choice.

“There may be a solution.” She said before hearing Kane’s hopeful voice. “But to find it, I have to do something I never thought I’d have to do.” She never wanted to sacrifice someone.

Kane didn’t have to be in front of her to know Abby was struggling. He wished he could be there to comfort Abby, but with her at the lab and him in Arkadia, it wasn’t an option. “You’ll make the right decision.” He assured her. “You always do.”

Abby fell silent, needing Kane’s confidence in her. “Can I ask you something?” Kane was always there to listen to her. “If I take a life to find a cure, does that make me a murderer?”

Kane was shocked. Out of everything Abby could’ve asked him, he wasn’t prepared. He let out a heavy sigh. “Abby, I-I don’t know how to answer that.” He admitted sadly. “I wish I did.”

“What if it can save us all? Would I be able to live with  myself then?”

“Taking a life should never be easy. I hope it’s not easy for you.” Kane assured her. “Your humanity is your greatest strength. Sometimes we need a different kind of strength to survive. Then we can find our humanity again.”

“I hope you’re right Marcus.” Kane knew Abby had her troubles but he had his own problems to deal with. Right now, Harper was crying over Louis, the man finally succumbing to the black rain’s burns. He knew Harper blamed herself and as much as either of them wanted to help Louis and the others harmed by the rain, there was nothing to do. Bellamy came over the radio, asking for Mark and Peter to respond as Kane and Abby bid their goodbyes.

Bellamy with the hope that Mark and Peter were still alive, spoke on the radio to them. “The rains on its way out. You still with me?” Mark and Peter didn’t reply. Bellamy kept trying, assuring them when the rain clears, he’d be on his way as soon as he could.

“Bellamy, you did your best.” Kane tried to get Bellamy to see but he couldn’t.

“I failed and they died.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I can’t protect anyone.” Bellamy argued with him. His voice cracked as he tried to remain strong, all his failures eating him away. “I can’t protect Y/N. I couldn’t even protect my sister.” He let his eyes closed as he tried to breathe, the memory of coming back and finding out she left taking its hit on Bellamy. “My responsibility and I failed. My mom passed out and she was there, she was in my hands and now what is she? Is she even alive? Is she-“

“You didn’t fail, Bellamy.” Kane interrupted his spiral. If Bellamy continued all he would do was blame himself for anything he couldn’t control. “You did everything you could for her. You came to the ground for her. You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.” Bellamy didn’t want to agree with Kane. He wanted to save his sister. He wanted to protect her, he always wanted to protect her. “Your mother would be proud of the man you’ve become. I know I am.”

Bellamy felt his anger bubble inside him at Kane praise. “You floated my mother.” He reminded Kane bitterly before tossing the radio onto the rover’s dash, ending the conversation with Kane.

Kane, knowing the conversation was over as well, hung up the radio, hearing Harper cry softly behind him. He approached her, putting his hand on her shoulder in comfort as she avoided looking at him. “Who you want to be doesn’t always win.” Kane walked away slowly and as soon as he was gone, Harper let her cries come out once again for she knew they never had a chance at winning.

---

The sun was shining the next morning as Octavia laid on the ground in the cave, thinking over last night’s events with Ilian. As much as she didn’t want to feel anything, she couldn’t push away her emotions. She was only human, after all. Ilian came back from outside, having checked the skies for rain as Octavia got up. “The storm’s over.” Ilian picked his shirt off the ground and putting it on. Octavia followed suit, pulling her shoes on. “You have somewhere to go now?”

Ilian nodded, deciding Octavia was right last night. “I’m going home, back to my stupid sheep.” Octavia let out a small sigh at Ilian’s plan. Ilian knew Octavia had no where to go where she wanted. “Walk into the setting sun and you’ll find it.” He told her but she scoffed. “Or don’t.”

Octavia didn’t say anything as Ilian left her alone, heading back to his farm without her. Her knives sat on the ground as she picked them up, wiping them over her pants before holding them in her hands. She didn’t want to be a killer. She didn’t want to try to isolate her thoughts from her feelings. She wanted to feel something without the heartbreak and emptiness for once.

She tossed her knifes into the puddle of fresh water they used to clean themselves yesterday, wanting to leave the killer life.

Ilian was walking through the woods, feeling better going home than he had earlier. Despite knowing what nightmares awaited him, Octavia was right. It didn’t matter what ALIE made him do, Ilian wasn’t a killer. He wasn’t far from the cave before hearing horses’ clops behind him and he turned to see Octavia heading towards him. He stopped walking, furrowing his brows as she came up next to him.

“Get on. I’ll take you home.” Octavia stretched her hand out for Ilian to take. He stared at her offered hand before smiling and let her help him up onto Helios and the duo rode to Ilian’s house in silence, deciding it best not to talk about last night.

---

Bellamy hated driving back to Arkadia from without Mark and Peter, but they didn’t make it. Kane was waiting as he arrived, the rain now completely stopped and safe for them to be outside. Bellamy hopped out of the rover, heading over to Kane. “Still no word from Octavia.” Kane told him and Bellamy tried to remain strong. “I’m sorry.”

Bellamy paused for a moment. “You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.” He whispered, finally understanding Kane’s point. If anyone was going to save Octavia, it had to be herself.

---

When Murphy and Emori had told you about the Bone Marrow treatment, you didn’t know what to say. Sacrificing someone for the sake of saving humanity… Was it worth it? If Baylis wasn’t here, how would that decision have turned out? Who would’ve been the sacrifice?

Baylis was brought to the lab as soon as the idea sprouted and everyone struggled to come to terms with the idea. Clarke and Abby explained the theory to you better than Emori and Murphy could and while the idea of sacrificing someone seemed horrendous, it had to be done. You hated it, but you voted for using Baylis as the bone marrow tester. Someone had to do it so why not use a monster?

Clarke and Abby listened to you, having known nothing more about Baylis than what you, Murphy, and Emori had brought up, but you led the charge, Emori stay unnervingly quiet.

You had decided to stand back next to the stairs as Clarke and Abby were injecting Baylis with the Nightblood. Roan was standing with them, keeping eyes on the situation much like you thought he would. Murphy and Emori stood right above you on the second level, leaning over the railing as they watched the scene unfold. “I hope he survives.” Murphy mumbled.

Emori nodded her head. “Me too.”

Murphy, thinking his girlfriend was joking, smirked at her. “Why? So you could kill him?”

Emori turned to look at him, thinking about what she’s done. “Why would I do that?” Murphy’s face fell entirely.

“It isn’t him?” he asked and Emori shook her head, letting John in on her secret. “Emori, who is he?” He asked with a slight urgency.

“Someone other than me who’s going into that oven.” She said with zero remorse.

Murphy’s smirk slowly came to his face as he understood what Emori done. “Now that is a survivor’s move.” He said proudly. If this worked and ‘Baylis’ survived, then humanity survives, but if he doesn’t, then it wasn’t Emori. In his eyes, it was brilliant.

But you, who stood right below them and in the perfect spot to overhear, were seething. Emori played all of you, but she played you the most. Sure, the story she gave you about being banished was true, but this man had no part in it at all.

The only crime he’s done was break into the house to feed his family and he was going to die for it.

And it had been your call.

A/N: I’m so sorry this was like super late. Please still love me.

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[youarerageandserenity]

Borderlands Foam Wig Tutorial (Tyreen)

I was chatting with the lovely @void-noises-exe​ and it eventually circled around to offering to make a wig tutorial because you don’t see too terribly many, just thought I’d throw mine out ( especially because It was next to impossible to find good references of a foam version of Ty’s hair.) So this will be for foam wigs in general but Tyreen’s hair specifically (with a few pics of my Fiona wig from tales as well because they better accentuate my points) I didn’t plan on making this so I am missing a few pictures that might be helpful but here we go. This will not be short.

Supplies: 

-Craft foam (ideally, in small and XL sheets, but you can make do with whatever size you have available) 

- Spray paint as close to the BASE color of the wig you need (for Ty I used white, for Fiona a medium brown) ideally in a matte. 

- a FUCKLOAD of paints (i use cheap acrylics from the craft store ) in Black, and then several shades of the colors in the hair. (For Fiona i used i think four browns? Tyreens shaved sides have three browns, and the top had an additional yellow-brown i mixed) try to vary them in darkness levels to add depth.

- multiple paint brushes. I like to use around four or five of varying sizes and hardness levels.

- plenty Hot glue, and a hot glue gun (note: you COULD use other typres of adhesive, I like hot glue because its got great hold on foam, it sets FAST and worst case scenario I can take a hair dryer to it and melt it again if I need something to be undone.)

- scissors

- duct tape

-plastic wrap

-sharpie

-wig head

-Plenty of reference images

(optional supplies include a rotary cutter and or exacto-knife [trust me, itll make your life so much easier] ,  and patience. )

SO to start

1) Put your hair in a wig cap or however you plan on wearing it under your wig. Wrap your whole hair bit of your head in plastic wrap. Make sure you get over your ears and the baby hairs on your neck if you want to keep them. 

2) Wrap all the plastic covered bits in duct tape. This is easier for a friend to do on you, but not impossible to do alone, just make sure to get it all. It should be snug. Make sure you get as far down the back of your neck and down your sideburn area as you can. (Most characters have a bit of fringe hanging down in the back so its not the BIGGEST concern for them, but Ty’s got nada so you’re gonna want some good coverage for your hair line.) 

3) Take your sharpie and draw an outline of where your ear is, and along the hairline you’d like your wig to have. For short haired characters you dont want to cut too far behind the ear or your hair will peek out, so I like to underestimate how big my ear is and adjust as needed later. Dont make your wig hairline too high either, particularly if you’re making a wig for a character who has no fringe in the front. 

4) Take that bad boy off and cut along your outlines. Try it on again, adjust lines as needed. rinse and repeat. 

5) once you reach a semi-accurate mold of your head, you’re gonna wanna take it off and cut AT LEAST 4 (front, back, and both sides (I like to do 8, it will lay flatter) sections,coming to a point at the crown of your head. It should come out looking something like this. NOTE : they’re all still connected in the middle. If you’re doing 8, cut each of these 4 in half. )

6) Lay out your foam beneath this. If you dont have a piece of foam big enough to trace this bad boy onto, what I do is literally just break out the hot glue gun a bit early, glue a couple pieces together along the edges, until i get a nice big connected surface. Trace this guy on there as accurately as you can, cut it out, and then glue all your sides together. Now you should have a foam version of your duct tape hat. 

(Dont worry if the sides wont stay down, if you’re doing a character like Ty where thats an issue, we’ll get to that part later. ) 

7) (Optional but VERY helpful) Grab your wig head, and your duct tape head. Tape the duct tape back together and put something in it to make it hold shape, I use poly-fil. Tape the head-form to the wig head, and put your little foam cap on top of that. 

8)  Time to get creative. You’re gonna want to start from the bottom layers first. For Tyreen that’s the long fringe and her undercut. The strategy I decided on was to take a few large rectangular strips of foam, and lay them out everywhere I wanted the undercut to be and cut along the edges to match the hairline. I don’t have a picture of this exact point in the process but I have one from the beginning of the next step. Really the only thing to note at this point is obviously, your head is round and rectangles are not, for the curves where it sticks up along the edges, cut down where it sticks up in a little triangle and hot glue the ends together (you can sort of see this at the top left in the picture below). Dont worry about seams at this point, we’ll hide them later. 

9) This was not the case for Fiona who has very flat hair ( especially because of her hat) but Tyreen has a lot of volume especially towards the front of her head. For hair pieces that need volume, such as the ones that are glued down here, cut two of the exact same foam piece (i like to do them in little waves like the side, but also just a little arch is good for volume without flips such as the front piece) and glue the matching edges together. Make sure the hair triangle is facing the way youd like it to! Then Flatten out the top as much as you can, the bottom will keep the volume and the top ill be able to be covered by “2D” hair pieces. 

(NOTE: Honestly, it’s REALLY difficult to end up with an exact copy of cannon, and I ALLLLWAYS get carried away with the spikes. In the end, go by your reference images, but also follow your heart. Cosplay is half about having fun creating. )

10) Once youve started gluing, make sure to keep in mind where your part is (if you have one). For Fiona i didn’t trust myself so I glued in the hair at the part BEFORE anything, and left them ready to be glued down while I worked my way up to them. 

NOTE: All the hair at the parts of BOTH wigs is a single piece of foam.You want a nice wide base whenever possible to cover up the seams of all of the other edges of the hair. For your part, Carefully glue along the very end of your strip of foam and stick it down. It will be the last piece to be glueddown on top of everything else to make it look nice and clean. 

11) Slowly start working your way around the head, gluing down first anything that will need to be covered (3D pieces and bottom pieces) before getting towards the top where youll need to be more strategic about what is going down and what can cover your edges. I’d definitely recommend mixing 2D and 3D pieces if that’s something you want to experiment with, otherwise, such as in the pic below, it is possible to get volume from a 2D piece, simply by gluing it in a way where it wont lie flat against the head. 

12) in the picture above you can also catch a glimpse of Ty’s cow lick. Those are done exactly the same as our 3D pieces from before, only you trace the edges of the open end, and should end up with a triangular third side to be glued in, then just glue along the edges just like the hair part. 

13) Dont feel you have to overdo how many pieces the hair has, remember you may also paint in pieces and designs when it comes to the line-art! 

14) Once you’ve added everything from the bottom that you’d like to, go ahead and glue down your hair-part. 

15) So, obviously, I wasn’t a big fan of Tyreen’s undercut just being flat foam across half my head. So I took an exacto to it for what felt like years. REALLY over-do it on the edges, it’ll get rid of that harsh foam line and give it a little more of a natural blend. Also pay special attention to all of your seams in the foam. The more distressing there is there, the less youll be able to spot lines later. 

16) So once you have the overall structure of your wig and you’re thinking you might be happy with this, its spray paint time. (I’d recommend disposable gloves for this, you’re gonna need to maneuver it every which way to get the pain in every cranny and that paint does NOT like to come off easy.)  Theres really not much advice I can offer on it, just be patient, and do a couple layers, spray it from every angle and let it dry completely before moving on to the next step unless youre as impatient as I am and dont mind ruining a few paintbrushes. 

17) So, like the Fiona pic a few back or this one here, you should have a fairly flat evenly painted foam sculpture. Now is around the time you might start seeing all the inaccuracies in what you’ve made. You gotta push past that it’ll look great I promise. Time to get really creative. 

18) for Ty I started by painting the buzzed bits in a base brown, and started in on the line art and her roots while i waited for it to dry before going in with two more colors of brown for depth. 

19) For her roots I ended up using three colors. Black at the very bottom (which blends into the line art) a dark brown that matches more or less the buzz, and then after the fact, a custom yellowed-brown to blend better into the white and give us a little more texture. For this and the rest of the cel-shading in the hair, dab your brush before painting and try to mostly stick to light strokes in one direction (OR: if you have one, a particularly hard bristled paint brush does wonders for this) you don’t want the ends of your strokes to be too defined. 

20) Outline the edges of the hair and all prominent pieces, particularly the hot-glue seams, itll make them less noticable. (dont forget the little animation squiggles for Ty’s sides) and beyond that-- honestly, black out to your hearts content. These pics are from when I thought I’d finished. I really felt I’d over detailed. The next day I looked at a picture and realized there is always WAY more texture and outlining than I feel like I see. Honestly, you cant really over-do it, especially with fine solid black lines. 

21) The next day I came back at it with the yellowed-brown and LOTS more solid black lines. (Currently in the process of taming down where I got too excessive with the spikes on the side) 

22) Once it’s all dried, time to try on. Here’s where we address if you have a short haired character, and the edges of your wig just wont stay down -- invest in a little theatrical grade spirit gum. It’s not too terribly expensive, and unfortunately, I tried the cheaper halloween makeup kind, and it just wont hold how you need it too (and please for my sake, also make sure you get spirit gum remover) I took some hair gel (you could also use elmers glue) just to glue up as much of my hair as I could on the sides and the back of my neck to keep them from the spirit gum, and dabbed it along all of the prominent edges of the wig (namely, side and back) wait for it to get a little tacky and stick that MF-er down good. 

Aaaaand Voila??? 

Let me know if I missed any steps? Its fairly simple, once you get going -- just time consuming. 

[anika-ann]

Panenka (Little Doll)

Type: One-shot, Reader Insert               Word count: 2010

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Reader, Steve Rogers (mentioned)

Summary: After a traumatic experience, you know you have to crawl out of your shell eventually; an Avengers gala to attend with Bucky looks like a perfect opportunity. But healing is a process through which everyone has to go through at their own pace.

Warnings: mentions of a past sexual assault (not graphic), brief but graphic description of violence, angst and fluff, swearing

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A/N: Eh. First time writing Bucky, not sure if it turned out right. But I just heard the song after a long time and it… came to me. The song is Czech and I took the liberty to loosely translate the lyrics. They are incredibly strong to me, but I understand it you don’t want to listen to the song for it is folk/country.

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Co skrýváš za víčky  a plameny svíčky, snad houf bílých holubic nebo jen žal?   (What is it your eyelids hide behind the candlelight a flock of white doves or nothing but sorrow?)

Tak odplul ten prvý,  den zmáčený krví, ani pouťovou panenku nezanechal. (And so floats away the day one a day soaked in blood and didn’t left as much as a little doll from a fair.)

Bucky sees you sitting at the mirror and as hard as he tries… he can’t figure it out. He doesn’t think there are words in any language known to man that would describe how beautiful you are in his eyes.

Your hair is not styled complicatedly, loose strands twirling freely, only few of them half-heartedly pinned to the back of your head; the rest is cascading down your nape and shoulder blades, just like your scarlet-coloured gown cascades down your enticing body. One of your hands – the dominant one – is still in a splint, restraining your movements, but you have put your make-up on with ease as if you have done it thousand times before, applying lipstick now, the last touch to your perfection.

Sometimes, Bucky looks at you and is immensely grateful for breathing being an autonomic function, because he forgets how to do so on his own, air caught in his throat like right now when you stand up straight, casting a glance his direction, catching him staring through the door opened ajar. And you smile; once again, he is reminded how breath-taking you are, even when the smile on your lips doesn’t reach your eyes.

He hasn’t seen a real smile of yours for weeks now and a flare of rage ignites in his chest, quickly put out as you open the door fully, your gaze glued to his face.

Your eyes appear less hollow than the first day they got you back, back from the hellhole where your captors---they—God, Bucky can’t stand even thinking about it, not now, not when you are supposed to attend a gala together. Your first public appearance since your mission going awry, since the intel leak, since your cover being blown, since- stop!

Bucky can’t take his eyes off of you and smiles gingerly, not even hesitating to pay you a compliment despite words never seeming like enough to describe what his mind can barely grasp, a beauty so exquisite he wonders if it was created by angels themselves. A beauty of a body, a magnificence of a soul.

“You’re… stunning. So beautiful, doll,” he whispers, uncertain why he can’t make himself to speak at normal volume; perhaps he’s worried he’d set off another waterfall, tears you have cried for days, ones of regret, sorrow and anger; tears you wished for no one to see, not even him. 

Otevři oči, ty uspěchaná, dámo uplakaná. Otevři oči, ta hloupá noc končí, a mír je mezi náma. (Open your eyes, you, always rushing, my lady with a face stained with tears open your eyes; this stupid night is to end and there’s nothing but peace between us.)

There’s a spark of emotion on your face at his words, something real, something Bucky tries to hold onto, swallowing his guilt and ache for later to come out.

Bucky sees you, standing tall, your chin raised in pride, strong and unshakable, ready to face everyone who knew what happened-- and as hard as he tries… he can’t figure it out. He doesn’t think there are words in any language known to man that would describe how brave you are in his eyes.

“Thank you,” you respond in same fashion, beckoning towards the door. “Shall we?”

For the first time, he notices that your lips in fact quiver a little, your smile crooked from how you force it to stay firm. It causes him to hesitate, but he doesn’t yield, doesn’t make the choice for you. As long as you feel ready to walk out and face the vultures of whom at least one will make an inappropriate comment – because of course they will – he will stand by your side. You need to make the decision, pacing your healing by yourself.

He thinks you’re crazy to be honest, crazy to silence the voices no doubt yelling in your head, but that doesn’t diminish his admiration for you, not even a fraction.

Bucky knows what it feels like; he can’t fully comprehend how exactly you feel after what happened, but he can understand to an extent. He knows what it’s like to be violated, what it’s like to be stripped of all dignity and have nothing left but shame and the ever-present urge to rub your own skin clean until it bleeds and washes the past away.

Bucky has never been… violated that way, but God, does it make him furious and does it burn, an all-consuming flame of rage.

And it certainly isn’t because of the lack of intimacy between the two of you as a consequence of what they have done to you, it’s not the idea of someone else touching you, though that would be maddening enough, it’s not even the nights he has been spending on the couch; it’s the fact you shrink in fear from any unexpected touch, it’s the idea of someone putting their hands on you against your will and it’s the nights he’s woken up at your screams loud enough to make your throat raw and sore.

But here you are, reaching for the pumps ready by the door; slipping one on, you struggle with the other-- and then he sees it; the tremble in your hands, the tear glistening in the corner of your eye.

You cry out in frustration when you have to steady yourself against the wall and his heart breaks. He’s a step from you in an instant; ready to support you, ready to-- to do anything to be honest. Anything to ease the burden laid on you.

Dropping the shoe with a huff and losing the other too, you hide your face in your hands, your palms doing nothing to muffle your choked sob and Bucky’s hands ball in fists.

Images of blood, screams and pathetic begging fill his mind and all he can think of is that he didn’t punch hard enough, didn’t break nearly enough bones, didn’t take enough time to cut the bastards open, to make them suffer so they wanted to slit their own throats only to end the misery he brought upon them-- had they been still able to hold a knife in their shattered fingers. He didn’t put them through nearly enough pain to make up for yours.

Your erratic breathing snaps him from his dark daydream, just in time to witness your knees buckle, your legs on the verge of failing you.

He’s reaching out before he realizes what he’s doing and stops himself hovering an inch from your skin.

“I’m… I’m going to touch you, alright?” he says, a warning and an offer and the tinniest hint of a nod is all he needs before he’s curling a gentle hand around your forearm.

To his utter shock, you spin on your heels and bury your face in his chest, clinging to him for the first time in weeks. 

Bucky isn’t certain whether his heart cracks or melts.

He feels you, a shivering sobbing mess in his arms, and as hard as he tries… he can’t figure it out. He doesn’t think there are words in any language known to man that would describe how strong you are in his eyes despite drenching his suit jacket in tears.

  Už si oblékni šaty, i řetízek zlatý,  a umyj se půjdeme na karneval.  (Go on, dress up at last wear a necklace of gold and clean up real nicely; we’re to attend a ball.)

A na bílou kůži, ti napíšu tuží, že dámou jsi byla a zůstáváš dál. (And on your snow-white skin in ink I will write that you’ve been a lady and remain one still.)

His lips brush your hair and another sob – more of a hick-up maybe – escapes your lips pressed together, and you shake your head, pushing with your hands against his chest and he lets you even if you use barely any force.

He hates it; he hates seeing you like this, he hates the whole fucking world for hurting you and he hates himself for being so fucking useless.

You wipe away the tears and grit your teeth, reaching for your pumps once more and slip into both of them with ease this time, despite your feet quivering in them, despite your whole body shaking.

“We gotta go, come on-“

“Doll,” he addresses you, trying so damn hard to sound gentle when all he wants is to scream, not because he’s angry with you, with your stubbornness, but because- because— GODDAMMIT! “Doll, we don’t-“

“I promised I’d go. I have to go-”

Throwing caution to the wind when you actually reach for the handle, legs unsteady like a Bambi trying to stand up for the first time, he curls his fingers around yours and pulls you away from the door.

“What the-“

“You don’t have to do anything. Okay? No obligation. If you want to go, I’ll follow, always, but I-“

“I do want to go!” you snap, possibly aiming for a firm voice and missing my miles as it comes out like a whimper instead. “I just need to do something normal, I need to show them that I’m fine—I- I promised Steve a dance-“

A wet chuckle escapes Bucky despite his inner turmoil, despite his insides twisting in rage and pain; of course you promised that punk a dance. You’d do anything for his pretty eyes, you always say that and then you proceed to kiss Bucky, because he gets all growly in mock jealousy-

You’re shaking your head, new tears rolling down and ruining your perfect make-up and Bucky doesn’t know what to do but to embrace you again, a loose cage you could easily escape should you want to. But you only curl up against him, arms winding around his waist and he sighs, trying and possibly failing at pouring all of his love into one single hug.

“-I just want normal. I want to dance. I- I-“

A smile spreads on Bucky’s lips as your voice turns less desperate and more resigned, longing, wistful even. You were not going anywhere tonight, that was for certain, and that was alright. He would tell Friday to let the others know, all in the good time.

He caresses the length of your hair, his flesh hand cupping your cheek and sliding two fingers under your chin, carefully guiding you to look up at his face. Even with your mascara and eyeliner smeared, black paths from your tears running down your cheeks, you take his breath away.

“You wanna dance, doll?” he asks, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips and you shake your head with a bitter chuckle, probably at the image of the two of you, a mess made in heaven, showing up at the party. “We can dance.”

 Otevři oči, ty uspěchaná,  dámo uplakaná.  Otevři oči,  ta hloupá noc končí,  a mír je mezi náma. (Open your eyes, you, always rushing, my lady with a face stained with tears open your eyes; this stupid night is to end  and there’s nothing but peace between us.)

“Yeah…?”

You look at him and he swears his heart stops for a moment. Why does his chest always feel so tight when your eyes lock with his, hopeful, kind and vulnerable?

“Yeah,” he confirms softly. “You can save Steve his dance for another time. It’s just you and me tonight.”

Realization, tender and grateful, shines from your eyes and for the first time in weeks, Bucky believes that what he sees is a hint of happiness, the first ray of hope that you are on your way to recovery and he actually contributes to it. He readjusts his hold on you so you could sway at least and there’s an honest curve to your lips; this time, he’s certain his heart melts and his chest swells with pride and hope that he is worthy of you.

Bucky feels you, content in his arms if only for a moment and as hard as he tries… he can’t figure it out. He doesn’t think there are words in any language known to man that would describe how precious you are in his eyes.

Words that would describe how much he loves you.

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Marvel masterlist  

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Thank you very much for reading! (Feedback always appreciated.)

[btsfan15]

New Roommate (Part 2)

It’s been a few weeks ever since Jin moved into my dorm room, and I would say it was going pretty well. I enjoyed being alone, having peace and quiet to myself, but it did get lonely sometimes here and there. I’ve always thought of having another roommate, but I wasn’t expecting it to be my bias and bias wrecker. I thought I had hit the roommate jackpot. Not only was he kind, he did his fair share of the housework, and he could cook. And cook well. His good looks didn’t hurt either.

Except they did. And as the weeks went on and turned into months, I found myself growing increasingly frustrated. It doesn’t help that it was the first time either of us had a roommate of the opposite sex. It led to situations where I’d walk out of the bathroom in only a towel, hair dripping wet, and he’d be in the living room watching a show, trying to keep his jaw from dropping to the ground.

Or when he’d come back from a morning jog and be so sweaty that he’d strip his shirt off the moment he stepped in the apartment without thinking, just wanting to get the drenched fabric away from his body. And I’d be left in the kitchen trying not to have my breakfast dribbling down my chin. It was an automatic reaction, but both of us found your habits gradually changing as time went on.

Why couldn’t I have had an average looking roommate, or even a slightly above average one? I’ve started locking the door every time I change after an incident where Jin came in to ask me about groceries without knocking. Instead he found me with my shirt halfway off, my bra clad chest completely exposed.

Jin has started locking the bathroom when he’s taking a shower too, after I barged in on him once. To be fair though, I really had to go that time. The curtain was drawn anyways, so I didn’t see anything… Not that I wanted to see anything. Really, I swear. We’ve always slept away from each other. Me on the bed and Jin on the fold out couch. I know it would be weird if both of us were sleeping together cause that’s kinda like...you know.

Sometimes I feel embarrassed when Jin’s in my room. I don’t know why, but I’m controlling myself from saying something stupid. Also, I feel sort of...different in front of Jin. Like, whenever I see him or sit next to him, I get this weird feeling in me. When I’m alone, I feel fine. It just goes back and forth. And you know what’s really annoying and embarrassing? Not only do I feel different around Jin, but my brain gives me these pictures of me unbuttoning Jin’s shirt.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Why can’t I control my brain?! Jin didn’t do anything wrong, and neither did I. It’s just this pesky thing called sexual tension. Curse my hormones. I don’t want to say I like Jin. I mean, I do, but not in a boyfriend type of way. I just like him. As a friend. I think he feels the same way, too. At least, I hope so. None of the other members know about this. I really don’t want them to know about this. But, they’re gonna find out one day. Can’t wait for that.

To be honest, I really wanted to have sometime to myself. I couldn’t keep up with all this. And if you think that’s not worse, the next thing I’m about to tell you is. The other members went on a trip and guess who’s stuck with Jin? Yep, that’s right. Me. I’m already going crazy with this sexual stuff in my brain and now Jin and I are alone in the house. Great. 

Thank god he went out of town. I can finally have some alone time, and I mean alone time. I settle in with a glass of wine and start my solo session of Netflix and chill. No really, I’m not kidding. I had my laptop and everything, the newest season of the Baby-Sitters Club came out. However, my session is interrupted when my phone vibrates halfway through my second episode.

[Jin]

I miss you, Navya.

The message is followed by a slightly blurry selfie of Jin, but it’s clear enough that I can see the ruddiness of his cheeks, hinting that he is probably not the most sober right now, and also the fact that his shirt. Is completely. Unbuttoned. Excuse me, what? From what else I can discern, it seems like he’s in a bathroom of some sort, probably the one at his friend Ken’s house, whom he’d been staying with. My cheeks flare up at the image on my phone.

Sure, I’ve seen him shirtless before, but that was an accident, and I was too shocked to actually get a good look at him. Now, I have an image of his bare chest and toned abs immortalized on my phone. Shit, am I drooling? I shake my head vigorously, trying to clear my mind of anything that shouldn’t be in there. And there is a lot that shouldn’t be there. I take a few deep breaths before replying to his message.

[Me]

Jin… Did you mean to send that?

I watch the pulsing three dots that show that he is typing, holding in a breath.

[Jin]

Wait, is this not Navya’s number?

[Me]

… Um, it is

So wait, he meant to send that?

[Me]

Why did you send that?

[Jin]

I said already~ I miss you~

I scream internally, my cheeks flushing with enough heat to set something on fire. In fact, I’m surprised that there aren’t little flames on my face already.

[Jin]

I tnihk I’m drukn

[Me]

You think?

[Jin]

Ya… I’m slepeyy toooo~ can you tuck me in?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. My hands shake as I type in my reply.

[Me]

You’re in the next city over. I can’t.

And thank god. If he was right in front of me don’t know if I’d be able to refuse him.

[Me]

Go to sleep Jin, you’re going to have a bad hangover in the morning.

[Jin]

If that’s what you want, I will~

I let out the breath I had been holding when I finish reading the last message, glad that it’s finally over, but are startled by one last message. Another photo, to be exact.

[Jin]

Good night~

In the picture, Jin is puckering up those plump lips of his, as if he is kissing my mouth. Maybe it’s the wine, but I can’t help but think where else I’d like him to—no. Shit. Shit. No. I can’t do this. I lock my phone and toss it beside me on the bed, lying back on the mattress. I should probably sleep now, that exchange tired me out. I momentarily get back up to put away my laptop then return to the bed, tucking myself under the covers.

However, as the night goes on and I toss and turn more, I keep on find the image of Jin with his shirt unbuttoned creeping into my mind once again, and a heat spiraling between my legs.

“Fuck it.” My hand starts smoothing down my body until it reaches the junction between my legs. Maybe an orgasm will tire me out enough to get me to sleep. And if Jin is what gets me off this time, well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

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I’m a bit giddy when I wake up, perhaps because I had let out a little of the sexual frustration that had been building since moving in with Jin. However, that all comes to a halt when he walks in the door during my breakfast.

You see, when I made the choices I did last night, I didn’t really consider how it would affect how I would see Jin. I mean, I am already stupidly attracted to the guy, how much worse can it get?

A lot, apparently. Because imagining him in the way I did last night just makes me want him more. Fuck. I hate myself. I gotta distract myself.

“Jin! You’re back.” Wow, Navya. Smooth. Real smooth.

“Yeah, didn’t I tell you when I was coming back?” He asks. “You did, you did. I’m just tired.” All thanks to me. “Welcome back, Jin. How did your trip go? Did you have fun?” I flash him a smile and I hope it’s not too forward. “Oh, I had an amazing time! We all went out to party everyday and ate at different restaurants! You should’ve come, Navya! I think you would’ve have a blast with us!” Jin says. “T-that does sound really fun. M-maybe next time?” I say.

“Maybe.”

“Why don’t you get unpacked? You’re probably tired too.”

“Yeah, I’m still kinda nursing a hangover. I went out drinking last night,” he explains while rubbing his temples. “I’ll leave you to your breakfast. I’ll be in my room if you need anything.” He starts walking back to his room. I let my gaze linger after him, and as I scan my eyes over Jin’s broad shoulders, I realize that he hasn’t mentioned anything about last night’s text exchange.

Thank god, because I am not looking forward to that conversation. But I also wonder if he remembers at all? Oh well, he’s going to find out soon enough, since the messages are still on his phone. That’s going to be fun.

I sigh before taking another bite of my bagel. I’m almost finished with one half when Jin comes out of the bathroom, changed into new clothes. “Hey, do you mind if I cook dinner tonight?” He says as he slides into the chair across from me. My first instinct is to nod vigorously, because each time Jin has cooked dinner, it has been amazing, and I’d always gone to bed with my stomach full.

However, while I’m not going to take back my agreement to let him cook, because good food is good food, I can’t help but internally panic at his offer. I know it’s not a date, because we’ve done this countless times before, but recent events are making me anticipate tonight in a way I don’t think I should.

“S-sure, that sounds good. Do you need groceries? I can get them for you,” I offer, needing to get out of the apartment and put some space between me and Jin. “You don’t have to do that.” Jin says.

“It’s fine! I already have some errands to run, so it’s no problem.” It’s true, I was planning on making a grocery run anyway. “Why don’t you make a list of what you need, and I’ll buy it for you.” I think this is a pretty reasonable offer. Which is why I’m surprised when Jin shakes his head no.

“Why don’t I just come with you? It’ll be easier that way. Besides, wouldn’t you want help carrying all those groceries?”

“S-sure.” Well, there goes Operation Avoid Jin for as Long as Possible™.

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A few hours later, we were at the supermarket. “Um, you said we needed eggs, right?“ I ask as I scan the fridge shelves.

"Yep.”

“Uh, okay.” I stare up at the top shelf, where the last carton lies. Shit. It’s just out of my reach. Why do supermarkets even put things there? Don’t they want customers to actually be able to buy—

“Here.” While I was busy with my internal rant against supermarkets, Jin had taken it upon himself to use his height to his advantage and grab the carton for me. “If you wanted help, you could’ve just asked.” He says, a little smirk playing at the ends of his lips. “I-I was fine,” I stutter, and I hope he can’t see the way my cheeks heat up, because he was standing really close to me.

“Really? Then why were you staring at the top shelf for the past five minutes?” A little puff of air escapes from his mouth, hinting that he is trying to hold in a laugh.

“Oh my god, let me live.” I bat at his free arm, covering my mouth to stifle my own laugh. My chest swells with relief that Jin took it upon himself to break the tension.

“Don’t worry about it. It was cute.” And now the tension is back.

“Uh, let me put this in the cart—” I reach for the carton, when I’m interrupted by a shrill squeal.

“What an adorable couple,” says an lady on the far side of middle age as she waddles up to me and Jin, carrying a huge purse almost a quarter of her size. “You’re both so good looking! And isn’t he so sweet to help you out like that, I know my husband would never do something like that.”

“Oh, we’re not—”

“Thank you so much, ma'am. But we really need to get back to shopping. It’s date night you know, I’m making her dinner,” he says with a wink, and the lady swoons. I would be unamused at his antics, if he didn’t have a similar effect on me.

“A man who can cook! You’ve really found yourself a keeper.” The lady nudges me with her elbow, sending her own wink my way.

“Y-yeah. I sure have.” The smile on my face is abnormally tight and to anyone but this woman it would be obvious that it’s fake. Jin can sense my discomfort, and grabs my arm to lead you away from the lady.

“Come on, Navya, we still need to buy the vegetables.” He starts pushing the cart with one hand while he continues to lead me with the other one.

“Oh yes, I won’t keep you any longer. You guys seem busy.” She gives us both one last giddy wave before stalking down the next aisle.

“Thank god.” I let out the breath I had been holding in, letting go of Jin’s hand. “Come on, let’s finish shopping before she sees us again.”

“I don’t know, she was pretty nice,” Jin says with a teasing smile, the curve of his lips causing my heart to pound in a way that can’t be healthy.

“What has gotten into you lately? Why did you lie to her?” My voice lowers to a harsh whisper, just in case the lady is still lurking around.

“Well, I don’t know if you’re aware since I’m the one who usually buys the groceries,” he sounds a little bitter at that, I’m not going to lie. “But that’s the owner of the store.”

“… Oh.”

“And she also slipped me some coupons,” he smiles, mostly to himself, as he pulls out the little slips of paper from his pocket.

“When did you even get those?”

“Does it matter? Come on, lettuce is buy one, get half off!” He starts pushing the cart at a pace that makes me think that their should be shopping cart speed limits.

“Wait, Jin!” I groan before jogging after him, but I can’t help but smile as I catch up to him. Wouldn’t it be nice if it could always be like this, instead of always walking on eggshells around each other?

The rest of the shopping trip goes off without a hitch, with the store owner nowhere in sight. However, just when I think I’m out in the clear, with me and Jin walking back to his car, he grabs my hand. The action startles me so much that I almost drop the groceries I’m holding.

“Don’t turn around,” he whispers to me. “But she’s looking.” I want to groan, but I stay silent and let him intertwine his fingers through mine. He doesn’t let go until I’m loading the groceries into the trunk, even though he knows that the store owner had already gone back inside by now.

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“You sure you don’t need me to do anything?” I ask Jin as he works at the stove, an apron tied around his waist. I know it’s a bit pointless to ask at this point, he seems completely focused on his cooking, but it doesn’t hurt to ask. I feel a little bad to watch him do all this work by himself, but I know he can get caught in his own world when he cooks.

“I’m fine,” he says as he stirs something in one of the pots in front of me. “If you want, you can set the table,” he offers.

“Okay!” I immediately agree, having been looking for something to do to distract me. Because honestly, just sitting and watching Jin cook is stirring something within me. He just looks so… domestic. Would he do something like this for a girlfr—PLATES. I NEED PLATES.

I scramble over to the cupboard where we keep the plates. However, as I pull out the plates, I’m still distracted by my mental images of Jin that my grip slips on the plates, sending them hurtling to the ground. One, luckily, stays completely intact, but the other one lies shattered on the floor. “Shit!” I bend down and try to pick up the pieces of what had been the plate, but my frenzied mind doesn’t really register that touching the jagged pieces of ceramic with my bare hands, isn’t the best idea.

“Ow!”

“Navya?” Jin looks away from the food to see me crouched on the floor, holding one of my fingers to put pressure on where the skin has split open. “Oh my god!” Jin makes sure to shut off the stove before he walks over to me, making sure to avoid the shards of ceramic on the ground. “Are you alright?” He asks as he starts to lead me to the bathroom. He helps me up into the counter before looking under the sink and taking out the first aid kit.

“I’m fine, I think I just cut myself, ow.” I wince as he disinfects the wound. He seems completely focused as he bandages up my finger. “God, I’m such a fuck up,” I mutter to myself, but Jin picks up on my words and his head snaps up to look me straight in the eyes.

“What? Why do you say that?” I sigh.

“Well, you’re over there cooking a full dinner that is sure to taste amazing, while I can’t even hold a plate properly.” I laugh, trying to lighten my words.

“Nonsense. We all fuck up from time to time in fact,” Jin chuckles sheepishly as he ruffles the back of his hair. “This dinner was supposed to be an apology. Because apparently I sent a certain roommate of mine some drunken nudes.”

“Well, it’s not really a nude unless it’s below the waist,” I automatically repeat my friend Marjurie’s age old saying, immediately embarrassed by my words. Jin, doesn’t seem to mind though, laughing good-naturedly at my quip.

“I guess that’s true. I’ll keep that in mind next time I send you a picture.” Now it’s his turn to be flustered. “N-not that I was planning sending you any more.” Look at that, now we’re both flustered.

“Uh, so are we still going to have dinner? I’m sorry for interrupting your cooking, you seemed really focused.” Jin gives me a small smile.

“Don’t worry about it, I was done anyways. Come on, we don’t want the food to get cold.” He takes my hand to help you off the counter. I’m still so flustered that I don’t realize that he doesn’t let go until I get back to the kitchen.

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A week later, after the disaster dinner is almost completely forgotten, I receive a text from Jin while I’m out shopping.

[Jin]

Hey, so I got off work early and was wondering if you want to try this roommate dinner thing again, since last time went so well.

I start to think over his offer, when he sends another text.

[Jin]

Actually, you can’t say no because I’m already buying ingredients.

So that answers that.

[Me]

Well, since you were so kind to give me a choice, sure. I’ll see you later.

I slip my phone back into my pocket immediately because I know if I keep looking at the messages, I’ll start to freak out. But then I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket, and I take it out as fast as I can, not able to keep myself away.

[Jin]

Okay, then :D Can’t wait!

I never thought a happy emoticon would make me want scream, but here I am. As I go through the rest of my shopping, my mind keeps returning to the upcoming dinner. Sure, we have had dinner before, but the most recent one has made me question what the both of us have between each other. I feel that it’s clear that there is some sort of attraction to each other, especially since my talk in the bathroom. But neither of us have taken the steps to voice out exactly how I feel. And I really don’t want to make assumptions on how he feels, but at the same time, I hope I haven’t been reading the signs all wrong.

My worried thoughts motivate me to shop quicker, and I finish an hour early. I bid the shop owners goodbye before shooting Jin a quick text that I’m going to be home early, not checking to see if he answered before heading home.

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“Hey, I’m back!” I call out as I walk into what seems to be an empty house. Hmmm, maybe Jin’s still buying groceries. I dismiss the thought as you walk to your bedroom, eager to change out of your work clothes. My ears perk up as I pass the bathroom door, picking up on the sound of a steady stream of water coming down, and I stop dead in my tracks outside the door.

So that’s where he is. My face turns red when I realize what he’s doing, and heats up even more when a sound besides water pouring down on the tile joins in. A moan, to be exact.

“Navya…”

Well then. That just fucks things up even more. My hand starts to wander towards the door knob, but I quickly snatch it back before I can do something I regret. I quickly to our dorm room, not caring if he can hear the door slam shut behind me. Besides, he’s probably a bit preoccupied.

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“So, how was work?” Jin asks as he pours me a glass of wine. Apparently, the store owner saw him again and gave him a discount, saying to share it with that lovely lady of his. While I couldn’t turn down free wine, I can’t help but feel a little frustrated with her. I wonder if the candles on the table were her doing too. I wouldn’t put it past her.

All these things contribute to me feeling like this dinner is different than all the others. Or maybe it’s the way Jin is looking at me—fuck, he’s looking at me.

“Uh, work was fine.” I say before taking a sip of the wine he poured me. "How about you? How was your day?”

“Same as you. Fine.” He shrugs before sipping some his own drink. I nod, taking in the few words he said.

“That’s good—”

“We need to talk.”

“—Okay then.” I wait for him to say something, he just ends up staring awkwardly at me, before darting his eyes to focus on his wine glass instead.

“I’m sorry,” he says with a sigh. “For all this. I feel as if I’ve been confusing—” Suddenly there’s a loading knocking at the front door. Both me and Jin get up from our seats to answer it, but Jin’s longer legs let him reach the door. The door is hardly halfway open when we’re both greeted by a loud voice yelling.

“Surprise!” At your door stands a tall man, as tall as, and admittedly almost as handsome as Jin himself. Well, almost, at least.

“…Oh, it’s you, Joong.” Oh, so this is Joong. Jin doesn’t sound the most excited to see his brother.

“That’s how you greet your brother? Come on, man.” Joong’s head turns as he suddenly spots me. “Oh, never mind, I can see you were busy.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, this is just my roommate.” Joong’s face completely changes when he hears who I am, but I don’t really notice because my heart is too busy falling into my stomach with the words just my roommate. But that can’t be it, right? After all I’ve been through, I would’ve thought—"Navya, introduce yourself.“ You snap out of your daze and hold out your hand for Joong to shake.

"Hi, I’m Navya, Jin’s… roommate.” I hope that neither of the men noticed how I hesitated on the last word.

“What are you doing here, Joong?” Jin sighs as he steps aside to let his friend in, and I follow suit.

“Well, when you came to visit me a few weeks ago, I realized I’ve never been to your new place.” Joong’s already slipping off his shoes, making himself right at home.

“Yeah, you always said you were busy. What does this have to do with anything?”

“Well, guess who got some time off this week!” Joong says with a bright grin on his face, one I reciprocate halfheartedly and doesn’t return at all. If Joong notices the less than pleased expression on Jin’s face, he doesn’t say anything. “So, have you guys eaten yet?” He rubs his hands together as he heads towards the kitchen, where me and Jin’s pseudo-romantic dinner is still set up. Me and Jin jog after him, only to find him already sat down in one of the chairs. Luckily, he is courteous enough to take one of the places that aren’t set yet, leaving Jin’s and my seat free.

“Uh, I’ll get another plate.” I start heading towards the cupboard, when Jin stops me, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get the plate. He is my brother, after all.” I can only nod, a little flustered by the skin contact. I wordlessly take my seat, next to Joong and across from where Jin’s chair is. Jin quickly returns to the table balancing a plate, some utensils, and another wine glass. He sets everything in front of his brother, before taking his glass and filling it with wine. “Here, have something to drink.” I would have thought this to be a simple gesture of welcoming, but I catch a glint in Jin’s eye that suggests otherwise.

“Thanks, man.” Ken raises his and me and Jin take this as a cue to do the same. “Cheers!”

“Cheers!” Jin says with a smirk on his face, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s up to.

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“Nice call on the wine,” I say as I help load the plates into the dishwasher, Jin having already rinsed them in the sink.

“No problem, Joong has always been a sleepy drunk.” Jin glances over his shoulder to see where his brother is snoozing, head resting on the kitchen table.

“Still, I feel kinda bad. We should probably move him somewhere. The couch, maybe?” I dry off my hands before walking back to the kitchen table, inspecting Joong’s unconscious form.

“Well, since he’s my brother, technically, I don’t really want to leave him on the couch. He can take my bed.” My eyebrows raise at this, thinking about my  relatively cramped couch in the living room and Jin’s broad frame.

“You sure about that? The couch is tiny, I’ll sleep there.”

“N-no, it’s fine! I don’t want to kick you out of your room,” Jin’s response comes out a bit rushed. He hoists Joong up out of his chair. “I’m going to put this guy to bed. Good night, Navya.” With that he’s dragging his friend off to his room, leaving me no more room to protest.

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Later that night, I can’t sleep. Mostly because someone else can’t. I can hear the squeaks of the springs of the couch as Jin tosses and turns, unable to find a comfortable position. I sigh. He has been like that for the past hour. Taking pity on him, I roll out of bed and trudge out to the living room.

“Jin.” My voice startles my roommate to sit up, eyes flying open. “Jin, you have been tossing and turning for the past hour. Just take the damn bed,” I almost beg, wanting to be able to get some sleep myself. Jin shakes his head no.

“I told you, I don’t want to kick you out of your—”

“Fine then share with me.” I don’t really know how to describe the sound that comes out of Jin’s mouth. Maybe a strangled yodel? “Just come on. I’m tired.” I grab his arm and pull him away from the couch to my room. “Look, there’s plenty of room,” I say, gesturing to my spacious bed. I don’t wait for him to answer before climbing into bed. I look at him expectantly, and he takes a spot at the opposite end, almost falling off the edge. I roll your eyes but let him be. You settle back on the pillows. “Good night, Jin—”

“I never got to finish what I was saying earlier.” Oh. I assume he means before Joong arrived. However, I’m not sure if I’m ready to hear it.

“Can it wait? I’m kinda tired.” I punctuate my sentence with a yawn. Jin shakes his head.

“No, I want to do this while Joong is still asleep and can’t mess anything up.” Jin turns over slightly so he can face me. “What are we, Navya? Are we friends? Are we just two people who live with each other? Because honestly, I’m not sure anymore. And I’m not sure what exactly what I want us to be either.” I can see his hand twitch by his side, wanting to reach out for me, but holding himself back. “But I know I want more.”

“Jin…”

“I feel like I’ve been pretty obvious, but you deserve to hear it directly, Navya. I really like you.” I hear him let go of a breath he must been holding in for a long time, and I start to feel as if a weight has been lifted off my chest. I unconsciously move closer to him on the bed. “And being here with you in bed tonight, it’s so hard for me to control—” I cut him off by rolling over so that I’m straddling him. “—myself,” he almost squeaks out the last word.

“Mmmhmm, and what if I don’t want you to control yourself?” I say as I boldly roll my hips against his. “You know, you have really been working me up lately.” I lean down so that my arms are on either side of his head.

“… Oh, have I?” He smirks as he takes the opportunity to roll his hip back up into mine, letting me feel the steadily growing bulge in his sweatpants.

“You have no idea what those pictures did to me.” I nestle my head into the crook of his neck, starting to scatter kisses up the skin. God, I’ve been wanting to do this for ages. I start to nibble on his earlobe, coaxing him to groan, when he tugs at my hair.

“W-wait, but Joong—”

“You and I both know Joong is out for the rest of the night. Now kiss me.” I don’t wait for any more response from before crashing my lips onto his. Finally. Once my lips touch, Jin almost immediately relaxes. One of his hands tangles in my hair, while the other grasps my waist. I start to nibble on his bottom lip, coaxing him to groan, when he tugs at my hair.

“Wait, all my condoms are in my room. And Joong’s in there…” I roll my eyes before kissing him again.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m on the pill.” "Now, don’t you think we’re wearing too much clothes?” I ask while my hands start to play with the hem of his t-shirt. I slide my palms under his shirt, running up and down the toned muscle of his abdomen. Fuck, if it feels this good, he probably looks even better. I reluctantly separate my lips from him so I can pull his shirt over his head, and oh, are my suspicions correct. “Holy shit.” Jin takes advantage of my dazed state to flip me over so that I’m the one under him now.

“My turn.” He wastes no time in tugging my shirt off. He sucks in a breath when he finds out that I had not been wearing a bra underneath it. “Shit, were you really going to wear no bra with me in bed?”

“H-hey, it’s more comfortable.” He immediately swoops in to press his lips across the top of my chest, before traveling slightly lower to take one of my nipples between his lips. “Oh my god, Jin. That feels so good.” My fingers weave through his hair so I can hold him closer, while I press my hips up into his own. After a few moments, he switches which breast he’s working on, his hand coming up to massage the breast he left unattended. As he tugs on the bud lightly with his teeth, I can’t help but let out a moan. “Shit, Jin, I need more.”

I push him off me so I can reach for the waistband of his pants, pulling the sweats down easily along with his underwear. His hard length springs free from the fabric, and I have to keep yourself from drooling. I’ve always suspected that my roommate was well endowed, and seeing it in person very much confirms my suspicions.

“Holy shit, you’re huge,” I say as I start to pump his hard member in my hand. Jin tosses his head back at the contact, letting out an almost heavenly moan.

“Navya…” He almost pants as he bucks his hips into my hand.

“Do you like that, baby?” I smirk as my pace on him increases. Instead of answering, he just pushes my hand away, pushing me back to rest on the mattress.

“Why are these still on?” He asks as he easily slides off my pajama shorts, my panties soon following. His hand goes straight to my core, his palm massaging my clit. After a few moments, he slips in a finger. “You’re so wet, oh my god.” I can hear his breath hitch when he feels how aroused I am, how aroused he made me feel. He soon adds another finger, deeming me wet enough to be able to take it, and I grind my hips into his hand as he continues to pump into me.

“Jin…” My head lolls back against the pillows as I get lost in the feeling of his fingers inside me.

“Do you like that, baby?” He asks, repeating my own words from not too long ago.

“Shit, yes. Give me more, Jin.” I whine as he removes his fingers from me, momentarily popping them into his mouth to clean them off.

“Mmmm, I don’t know if I could ever make something this good.”

“Well, technically you did help make it.” I giggle as he rolls his eyes at my quip. I don’t stop laughing until I feel him position his tip at my entrance.

“Ready?” He asks, pressing a short kiss to my lips. I place a hand on the back of his neck to guide him to look me straight in the eyes.

“Fuck me, Jin.” He groans at my words, finally pushing himself in. A moan is muffled into my neck as he adjusts to feeling my tight wet walls envelope him. After a few moments, he starts a steady pace of thrusting into me, his hands coming up to hold my thighs.

“Navya, oh, you feel so good.” I wind my arms around his neck and pull his face closer in to me.

“God, I love feeling you inside me,” I moan as I start to roll my hips up to meet his. “Fuck, go faster, Jin,” I say with a buck of my hips.

“Shit, Navya.” He wraps my legs around his torso as he starts to quicken his pace inside. He crashed his lips onto mine while his hand makes its way in between my legs, starting to thumb at my clit. My breathing starts to pick up as I feel the coil in my stomach start to tighten.

“J-Jin, I’m close,” I gasp out as my nails press into the bare skin of his back.

“M-Me too,” he groans into my neck at feeling my walls start to tighten around him. He starts to massage my clit faster. “Let go, Navya, I want to feel you come around me.”

“Jin.” I toss my head back as I ride out my high. Jin manages a few more thrusts into my tight walls before succumbing to his own pleasure, releasing inside of me. His hips drive into me as he comes down from his own orgasm, his lips coming down to capture my own. After a few moments, he slows his pace, before stopping and pulling himself out. He rolls over beside me, letting out a big breath.

“Finally,” is all he can say.

“Finally,” I agree, before reaching over to my bedside table and grabbing some tissues to clean myself up. Once I finish, I snuggle up to Jin’s bare body. God, he’s just as warm as I thought he’d be. “So what does this mean?” I ask after a few quiet moments of just cuddling against him.

“Well, for one, it means we are kicking Joong out as soon as possible because I want to do that again.” I laugh at his response, leaning up to peck him on the lips.

“Sounds good.”

[absolute-yeet]

Wooloo fields - Hop x reader

This one-shot is also on my Wattpad account @ tales_of_darkness_

Cinderace ended the battle with a straight shot of pyro ball to Hop's Gigantamaxed corviknight. Hope had his back towards me. I couldn't see his face. I didn't want to.

I never should have gone after the champion position. I knew Hop wanted it. It was one of the only things he ever talked about. I only went on this journey to spend more time with Hop and then he roped me in with his star-struck champion talk. The champion life didn't even sound that great. Leon barely had time for family and friends and was quite frankly...daft. But maybe that last part wasn't a direct cause of him being the champion. Or maybe it was.

Hop was just like Leon. The way he got into battle, (attempting) throwing the ball, and even the way he smiled. They looked the same too. He was a spitting image of Leon. That is probably one reason I like him. He's got Leon's charm without actually being Leon.

I could see him punch the air to his side in frustration. He turned around to face me with soft eyes. My heart was pounding in my ears. The crowds roaring faintly behind it.

"Ugh! Gutted! You always did best me...", he said slowly. Everything seemed to move outside of time. The way Hop's eyes fluttered and the way he reached his hand up to shake mine. It was all too real. I stared at his hand, paralyzed by just crushing his dream. He didn't seem phased though, maybe it was just me? His golden eyes met mine as I looked up to him. I could feel the frown on my face. He gave me his charming smile with his eyes closed and I reached up to shake his hand. I may have held it a little too long. He squeezed my hand and let go of it. We both walked off of the pitch in silence, the furrow in my brow growing deeper.

Why did this feel so bad? I should be grateful for getting this far. But I just felt guilty. There was no reason to be...I worked hard for this. Hop was fidgeting with the Dynamax bracelet on his right arm. "That was a great battle mate! Next time I'll beat you. I swear as your rival...", a big smile spread across his face but he kept fiddling with his bracelet. He quickly looked back down at it and started shuffling his feet.

"I'm so sorry Hop...", I began. He looked up at me with a shocked expression. "Don't be sorry Y/n! You deserve this. You beat me fair and square.", his smile faltered a little bit but he tried to pull the corners of his lips up. His red started to slit and I knew what was coming. He turned around quickly.

I didn't want him to cry. I don't like seeing him hurt but it was also nice he could be vulnerable around me. We would never hold back from each other, that's what made us such good friends and rivals.

A shaky breath escaped his lips but he didn't cry loudly. You wouldn't even know unless you were me. I stepped closer to him and wrapped my arms around his torso. He tightly weaves his fingers through mine while they were resting in his stomach. He was holding onto them like it was the last thing he had. I leaned my head on his back and tried to send comfort telepathically. He shook a little bit but eventually stopped his silent crying.

"I'm sorry I'm being such a wuss. I know I'll have chances to beat you or Lee in the future. It's not like this is my last shot and...I'm really happy for you Y/n. I really really am. I'm just also sad I didn't make it.", he turned to face me, still letting me hug him and wiped away some stray tears from his face. A big smile spread across it again. "But you're amazing Y/n! If anyone's going to beat my brother it's going to be you!", he bent down slightly and tightly hugged me, pulling me up into the air. I squeaked, I wasn't expecting that.

I smiled. I think he'll be okay, friends support each other even in the hardest of times and never let envy get in the way. We stood smiling at each other for a moment. I am so close to his face. Only in my wildest dreams would I lean in- "Finally made the moves there Hop?", a deeper voice cut through our moment. Hope practically jumps 10 feet away from me and I put my hands behind my back quickly.

"Lee?! What are you doing back here?!", Hop huffed st his brother. "I'm here to congratulate Y/n on the amazing win! I was practically on the edge of my seat the whole time! It was fantastic!", Leon went on and on about his favorite parts of the battle but I wasn't listening. I was staring at Hop. The cute expressions he made when talking to certain people were one thing I had picked up on all of these years. He rolled his eyes a few times at Leon and often did, even though he loved him. I was thankful he always had such positive expressions around me. I could never think of a time Hop was anything but...perfect. And Leon asked Hop if he finally what?! Does that mean Hop...like me too? I could feel the blood rushing to my face. I have to calm down and stop reading into this before someone noticed.

"Y/n?", Leon waved his hand in front of my face. I quickly snapped it down in self-defense. Leon put his hands up in surrender. "Oops.", I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly. "Just a reaction?", I tried to defend myself. Don't interrupt my personal thoughts, Leon! "Right...well, I'll see you back on the pitch soon Y/n! Don't wait up!", he pranced out of the room, cape swishing behind him.

Hop turned and looked at me, his face was dusted with pink. He cleared his throat and looked st his shoes.

"Listen, mate, there's something I wanna tell you but I gotta wait until after your battle. You shouldn't have any distractions ya know? Will you come to see me?", he smiled at me. I beamed and nodded my head excitedly. He first bumped the air and ran over to where his normal clothes were hanging. He started to strip out of the league uniform.

"Ah! Hop! What are you doing?!", I shielded my eyes. I wish I didn't though, I definitely want to see all of that-

"Oops! Sorry, mate. I'm just so excited to see your battle.", he quickly covered his chest with his shirt and walked over to me, my handsome still covering my eyes. I could feel his warmth near me. He grabbed my shoulders from behind and guided me over to the door.

"Go on and heal your team and I'll be out soon. I'll be cheering for ya! Probably...my mom might yell at me if I don't publicly cheer for Lee...but in my mind, it will definitely be for you.", and with that, he shoved me out of the locker room and into the lobby.

~~~

He battle with Leon was scary. I had trained hard before coming to face him because I had no idea what to expect with his team. He delivered on tricky moves and frustrating blows, but I slivered harder. And I prevailed. I could hear Hop screaming for me from the seats and even once glanced over to see his grandma smacking the back of his head. He rubbed it while shooting me a thumbs up. He helped get rid of all the jitters I had coming to see Leon. My Pokémon helped too, they're the sweetest.

Leon had a completely different reaction from Hop after loosing. He didn't seem upset at all actually. I think Leon was done with being the champion and wanted someone new to step up. He has other things he wanted to do for his life and there were so many things he could do to still accomplish his goal of wanting to make Galar stronger. And he could finally get rid of his branded cape.

He enthusiastically shook my hand as the crowd cheered ferociously behind us. "Thanks for an amazing battle, Y/n! I'm sure you'll set s new path for Galar. Oh man what's my new slogan gonna be...", he seemed to lock into some sort of daze wondering what he was going to say now. That'll keep him up at night if Raihan already doesn't.

We walked off the pitch together and I changed out of my uniform into my other clothes. I was going straight to the boutique after this and buying something hot. Watch out Hop, I'm coming for you today.

I tried to slip out of the arena unnoticed by people but a few got in my path. Thankfully it was all warm greetings and congratulations but I was really only looking for one person. Hop. I wanted to know where we were going so I could plan my sexy outfit accordingly.

I was almost at the front door when a warm hand grabbed my arm. I looked over to see the one and only Hop. He gave me his award-winning smile and pulled me out the doors.

"Thank goodness. I felt like I could barely breathe in there.", we made our way down the steps of Wyndon Stadium. He laughed.

"It is pretty stuffy in there, but it will be out here soon too once people start leaving.", he pulled me over to a Corviknight taxi and opened the door for me to get inside.

"After you, your majesty.", he bowed with his hand still on the door handle. I giggled.

"Where are we going, Hop? I kind of need to go shopping.", I shrugged.

"Shopping?! Why do you need to go shopping?", he wondered innocently. "Is it to get a new champion look? Please don't wear a cape like Leon Y/n...", he groaned. I laughed. "You can do that later right?!", he looked at me with pleading eyes. I sighed.

"Actually I wanted to get a new outfit for our hang out. Something a little nicer?", I gestured down at the same old same old. He laughed and swatted the air in front of him.

"Why do you need to do that Y/n? You always look great!", he beamed at me. I rigidly said thank you and popped into the Corviknight taxi with a growing blush on my face. He was just too sweet sometimes.

~~~

The way to the mystery destination was filled with Hop singing as loudly as he could to the latest Pokévision videos and me doubled over in my seat laughing. The poor taxi driver just wants to do his service to the world...he never asked for this. And that was the best part. I never got tired of Hop's enthusiastic personality and I never will. I joined him in singing and we finally made it to the location.

We both hopped out and Hop paid the driver. What a gentleman. "I hope you gave him a tip for all that singing...", I trailed off.

"Pfft, no way! That was PART of the payment. A ride and a show. What more could you ever ask for?", he said excitedly. Oh gosh, he was serious. I couldn't help but laugh at his silliness. You couldn't even tell his dreams had just been slightly crushed. He seemed as happy as can be. He then turned away with...a blush? Maybe that's just wishful thinking. Or maybe not.

I shuffled a little closer to Hop and rested my hand on his shoulder. He let out a little peep and faced me. Our faces are inches apart, a smirk growing on my face with nervousness growing on his.

"What are we doing out here's for hmm?", I hummed, still locking eyes with him. He tried to form a smile but it just ended up being a really awkward teeth show. I decided to lean back and let the poor boy function. He cleared his throat and went back to his normal facade.

"Well, this is the Wooloo fields and I brought you here because...", his throat seemed to tighten. I smiled at him reassuringly. He breathed in a breath of confidence and smacked the side of his head like he did when he was about to battle. Also like Leon did, thanks for ruining this perfect moment with your Leon obsession Hop-

He breathed in again and gave me a soft smile. He took my hands in his. "You know how Wooloo was my first Pokémon? Wooloo was the first friend I ever had and then you came along. Wooloo means so much to me and...so do you. That's why I took you out here. So I could have the two things I love the most in the same place...", he continued smiling at me. I probably had a very strange expression on my face. All of the confidence drained from his face and squeezed my hands tightly. "And it's totally okay if you don't feel the same way Y/n. I mean I'm okay with us just being friends too but I really like you and- ah gosh why would you want to be with someone like me anyway?", he turned away from me a little bit and started facepalming.

I didn't know what to do first. I wanted to grab him and tell him I felt the exact same way but I also wanted to squeeze the living daylights out of him too. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and he stiffened, and then relaxed. He gazed into my eyes and a sense of calm washed over us. I was smiling so hard that my face started to hurt.

"Hop, I love you too.", I buried my face into his neck and he ran his hands down my back.

"You're spectacular Y/n..." he mumbled into my ear.

"Says you.", I pulled my hand back and rested my forehead against his. The smile on his face was almost bigger than mine. We couldn't help but stay like this, holding each other and just enjoying each other's presence. His eyes are beautiful. They showed even brighter gold in the sun.

~~~

As the sun set, Hop planted a soft kiss on my cheek and grabbed my hand. "Let's go back to my house and celebrate, yeah? I'll even show you my barbecuing skills...", he tried to flex with one arm, one of his eyes closing while he tried to muster strength. I squeezed his hand and laughed at him.

"Hop, we all know I'm going to be the one to cook in this relationship.", I shook my head Arnold him with a smile. He couldn't cook to save his life. It always burned or turned out bitter. He never knew what berries went with each other when we went camping. Never.

"Yeah, you're right. But I'm inspired to be a better cook for you. Maybe you can...teach me?"., he asked curiously.

"Absolutely, I can't be with someone who doesn't know flavor.", I smiled at him. He laughed. I planted one long-lasting kiss on the corner of his mouth. I could tell he wanted more, but for now, this will have to do. Desire is more fun to build up, after all. I put my head in the crook of his neck. His head rested on mine as we walk hand in hand, back to his place.

[tansypoisoning]

Preview 3 (/4?)

I’m still trying to figure out a lot of the things for the plot of (Un)Conditional (can you tell I almost never plan out a series before I start it?) so I’m working two disparate parts at the same time. I’m not sure if I’ll have any Thanksgiving Dinners in the story because I’m afraid they’ll be boring/unecessary and I’m kind of worried about writing a time-skip.

I appreciate any advices on writing Mr.Blanc’s dialogue too :)

Warnings: Daddy kink

You hadn’t been to many dinner parties, so perhaps your frame of reference wasn’t the best, but you could say with confidence that the bash at Harlan Thrombey’s mansion was the absolute worst one you’d been invited to.

The interrogation continued at the dining table: they wanted to know about what College you’d graduated from, where did you live before moving to Massachusetts, what did your parents do, if you had any siblings. Being questioned this thoroughly was never fun, but it was made even worse by the fact that one of your favorite authors was right there and you couldn’t seem to find a chance to ask him anything about his books.

Worse than being asked those questions was not being asked anything. When you were silent the room was either silent save for the sound of people chewing or taken over by the rest of the Thrombey’s. It was better when it was just your disgusting collective mouth noises. You learned that Joni owned a business that sold mainly t-shirts with inspirational clothes, crystals, and snake oil and that she had some troubling views on vaccines. You learned that Linda owned a real estate business that seemed to be the most important thing in her life right now, and that her husband had done something to really piss her off, her fingers dancing dangerously close to the carving knife whenever he would speak. You learned that Walt’s family was racist, and given some of their comments, you concluded they were racists of the “extremely” variety.

Aside from a few token eye-rolls and jabs here and there, everyone was acting like this was all normal, like they were just poking fun at each other’s favorite football teams. Was this normal for most other families and you had just lucked out with yours? No, there was no way this was normal. What the fuck were those people doing?

Or rather, what the fuck were you doing? You were still taking part in this farce, weren’t you?

You got to meet Ransom’s great-grandmother at least, although you weren’t sure she even realized you existed. You didn’t mention Harlan looked good for his age. The opportunity didn’t present itself, and even if it had you probably wouldn't have said anything.

The night ended with Jodi drunkenly swaying in front of the fireplace to Nina Simone’s rendition of “Born Under a Bad Sign” while balancing a wine glass and trying to get a sour-faced Donna to join her, Walt and Linda moving to the porch to smoke, Harlan sitting in a corner talking animatedly with Marta, while in the opposite end of the room Ransom and Jacob leaned against a wall having a hushed conversation, and with you stuck on a couch in between Richard and Wanetta. You were sure the three of you looked the picture of depression. Fran was, wisely, nowhere to be found.

It was hard to hide how ecstatic you felt when Ransom announced you two would be leaving. You said goodbye to all of them, and most were satisfied just nodding in response or at most shaking hands. Joni, however, hugged you when you announced your departure.

You and Ransom got into his car in silence. It was only when Harlan’s house was out of sight that you let out a sigh of relief.

That got his attention. “Were they everything you were hoping for?”

“I thought you were being hyperbolic when you said your family was a mess.”

“Hyperbolic? Me?” He snickered.

“Are they always this bad?”

The humor vanished from his face. For a moment you thought he was going to go off on you for criticizing his family.

“They’re not so bad...” He said, and you turned to him in disbelief. “There’s enough material for twenty comedy of manners novels, at least.”

You couldn't help but smile. This would all be so much easier if Ransom was just some dumb hot guy.

“Like I have the time to write anything. Maybe you should give it a go. Become this century’s Jane Austen.”

“Like I have the patience to write anything,” he retorted. The smile on his face was more endearing than it had any right to be “But I’m willing to pay you to ghostwrite for me.”

“If you can pay me more than my actual job I’ll take it.” You covered your face with your hands as you chuckled. He hadn’t earned that chuckle; you wouldn't show it to him.

The conversation died down organically, and maybe you should’ve just left it that way, enjoyed the comfortable silence. You probably should have, because you didn’t.

“Marta said they were good people.”

He scoffed. “Marta’s fucking a moron.”

“She’s hot.”

“She’s gotta be something.”

When you went too long without answering, Ransom turned to you with a shameless grin “Are you jealous?”

“What would be the point in being jealous? This is an open thing.”

“You are jealous,” He snickered, then was silent for a moment. He drummed his fingers against the wheel and sighed before speaking again “I’m not interested in her, trust me.”

Maybe he was being honest, but asking you to trust him was too much.

“Wouldn’t matter if you were.” You made a point to shrug. He gave no indication he had even heard you.

Ransom turned the radio on at some point, and the music helped to alleviate the tension permeating the air. For the rest of the trip, the only soundtrack was the rumble of the engine and the droning of the top 40.

Ransom parked on the street off to the side of your blocky apartment building and you got out. You were slamming the door shut when you noticed he had climbed off the car as well. No words were spoken as he followed you through the sidewalk and across the minuscule lawn, just a patch of grass with a few topiary bushes sprinkled here and there. You couldn't really feel his breath on your neck, but you imagined you could, and all the hairs in your body stood at attention.

You took the stairs up. It was a deliberate decision; you only lived on the third floor and the elevator would ruin the mood. As you climbed the steps, you wondered if Ransom was looking at your ass. You didn’t know that he was, but you also didn’t know that he wasn’t, and that had a torrent of blood rushing to your head.

Reality was a little foggy when you reached your door. You unlocked it, let yourself and Ransom in, and he was on you as soon as you had closed it again.

Ransom held your head in both hands, effectively keeping you from looking away. You could’ve closed your eyes, but you didn’t.

“You’ve been so good today.” His voice was slow and sweet like molasses as he spoke against your mouth. It would be so easy to lean in and kiss him if only he’d let you “I think you deserve a reward.”

You nodded dumbly, loving the way his soft lips felt as your brushed against them. He slapped one of your cheeks just hard enough to rouse you from your trance.

“Yeah?” He asked “Then you better ask nicely.”

A whine slipped past your lips. You weren’t complaining – no, this was foreplay.

“Please,” you begged “Please, can I have my reward, daddy?”

He answered with a cocky smile that was all Ransom, then parted from you.

“Strip,” he commanded as he appraised your body, now a few steps away.

You pulled your shirt above your head, then moved to your slacks, stepping out of them in a way that you hoped was alluring. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, but his gaze was zeroed in on you and you took that as a good sign. He also wasn’t complaining, and he wasn’t too polite to be gentle in his feedback.

Next were your bra and panties, and then you were bared to him. Ransom examined you with the same clinical look for a while longer. He really had a gift for affecting your self-image.

“Hands behind your back, shoulders against the door,” he said “And keep your hands there. If I see them move you’re not cumming.”

You knew he meant it; once you’d neglected his instructions and he’d edged you all night long, then tied your hands on the bed post and went to sleep while you writhed on your bed and rubbed your thighs together trying to get off. By the time the sun rose, you were begging him for an orgasm.

You did as he said and waited. The waiting was part of the game, and it always meant he wanted more than to just get off. You preferred him like this, even though it meant you couldn't touch yourself without his explicit permission.

Ransom stalked in your direction, shoulders pushed back, and you felt even smaller. The cheap plywood door vibrated with your own tremors and made a loud rickety noise. He had such long legs; he should’ve gotten to you in no time, yet it was an eternity before his feet landed in front of you.

He held your jaw with one hand, tilted your head up. He observed you so closely you could smell his toothpaste. Mint. Your apartment was cold, but with him hovering so close, you felt warm. He lowered his head, his lips brushing against your cheek and his nose on your temple.

“You’ve had a long day today, didn’t you? Work and then having to meet those awful people.” His voice was patronizing, almost like baby talk. You could only whisper a yes “Let me take your mind off it, baby girl. Let me fuck your brains out.”

You fought the urge to try and hold onto something and answered with a ‘uh huh’.

Still holding your jaw, Ransom pulled his body from yours. It was so cold, so sudden. “You know how this goes. Use your words.”

“Please, Daddy – I want you to fuck my brains out.”

Ransom smiled his heart-stopping smile, and his hand slid to your throat. He felt down your body with his thumb, first to the hollow spot in your neck, then your nipple. His other hand found your lower back just before you slid down to the ground.

His fingers trailed down your stomach with deliberate slowness. A tremor ran up your body when he reached your vulva, and you gasped as he parted your lips with his ring and index finger, using the middle digit to touch you just where you wanted most. You gasped as he found your clit.

When you took the phone call you’d expected to be met with the voice of one of your company’s client, so you didn’t even look at the caller ID as you picked it up.

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” Asked Ransom’s voice on the other end of the line. He’d called at the worst possible time too, while you were carrying a cardboard cup holder with your drink and a poorly balanced bagel, navigating a crowded coffee shop.

“Can you not? You know I have a nine to five job.”

“Aren’t you supposed to get a lunch break?” He sounded grossed out by the expression. It was just as likely he thought the idea that having a single, predetermined hour for lunch was offensive as he found the idea of free time for the working class ridiculous.

“I am on my lunch break, but I have to keep my phone free. You know, for clients?”

“I’m spending Thanksgiving at Harlan’s,” he ignored you “come over, I could use a plus one.”

“I can’t,” you said “I always spend Thanksgiving with my family.”

“Just ditch them.”

“No,” you said. You had always had trouble denying him, but not this time. This was the one childhood tradition you still upheld, and it meant a lot to your parents “I always spend Thanksgiving with my family. I’m not convincing them to reschedule for your convenience.”

He was silent for a moment “Great. Guess I’ll die of boredom.”

“I’m sure you’ll find ways to keep entertained.” You smiled; you wished you could kick yourself.

“Where do your parents live?”

You shook your head as if he could see you “We’re staying at my brother’s. He and his wife live in Albany.”

“That’s not far.”

Oh, no. You knew that tone.

“No. Why does it matter?” You asked, sure he would’ve heard the doubt in your voice.

“You could still make it to both parties.”

You wished you had a free hand to rub your temple; you could sense a headache coming. You were making your way to the entrance, but you had to stop to lean on one of the bar tables stacked with sugar packets and disposable spoons because his plan was literally too stupid to stand. “Ransom, I’m not going to go to your grandfather’s house then drive in the middle of night to fucking Albany.”

He sighed. “You’re going to start showing at some point. I’d like to squeeze in a few more meetings with my family before breaking the news.”

That was fair, you supposed. It still wasn’t like you were going to try making it for two dinners in different states in a single night.

“Well… I can’t make it to Thanksgiving.” Now recovered, you gathered your things and started making your way to the entrance again “If I gotta meet your family to keep up appearances, don’t you think it would be fair if you did the same for me?”

“Oh?” He was grinning, you could tell “What’s in it for me?”

Seriously, this jackass...

You held the phone in between your shoulders and cheek to reach for the door handle. “Ransom, you’re not-” your words ended in a yelp when someone bumped into you. It wasn’t just any bump – no, no, that would’ve been too lucky. The stranger practically barreled into you, sending your lunch and phone hurling into the air. Some of your drink conveniently landed on your white shirt before spilling on the ground.

“Oh, I am terribly sorry, miss!” Said the man who had rammed into you as he bent over to pick up your phone.  “I am more distracted than a hound dog in a perfumery! Oh- Drat!”

He rose and you were met with strikingly blue eyes.

“Your phone’s screen didn’t happen to be already cracked, did it?” He said, extending your cellphone back to you. His southern drawl was so melodious it took you a moment to catch onto his implication.

“Not really.” You said as you took your device from him. Just as he’d said, the screen was cracked.

“Oh, lord-” He brought a hand to his graying hair. “Again, I am so sorry-” he then signaled to the barista that had come over to clean up the mess “Excuse me – I’ve knocked this poor woman’s lunch on accident. Would it be possible to get her another drink?”

The worker seemed embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I gotta ask my manager...”

“Oh, no, please, don’t bother” The man waved his hand by the side of his head “If it’s a matter of money, I’ll pay for it. I’m sorry again, miss – what did you have?”

You found yourself blurting out your order before you could think too hard about it.

“Yes – and please, throw in a muffin in with the order; please can keep the change.” The man produced a wallet from his coat and pulled a fifty dollar note from it, handing it to the barista, who accepted the money with some confusion. “Thank you very much.”

You were still unsure of what to do, so you remained rooted in place while the man ran up to the counter, got you several napkins and ran back to hand them to you. You considered the possibility that he was trying to flirt with you, but if it were the case he at least wasn’t using the opportunity to dab at your wet shirt with paper towels.

[soyforramen]

Old Times

Gladys hadn’t been back in town for a month before Alice showed up on her front porch at four in the morning, tears streaking down her cheeks (makeup looking just as good as when she’d applied it that morning; gotta love a woman who can afford Avon).  A wide-eyed teenager, the spiting image of a younger, more precocious Alice, tagged along behind her.  Without hesitation Gladys ground her cigarette out on the arm of the rocker (saved from Mr. O’Neil’s Tuesday trash pile) and pulled them both inside.

Without a word spoken, Gladys went to change the sheets in her bedroom.  Alice and the girl spoke softly in the kitchen, and try as she might, Gladys couldn’t make out a single word.  Whatever it was, it had been bad enough to bring Alice here and not one of her fancy, high-society friends’ houses (probably put out jello molds and finger sandwiches and food that tasted like creamed dirt).  Something big enough to ruin the entire Cooper household.

The pillowcase hung from the bottom of the pillow, wrapped around its middle in a suffocating grip, as she realized Hal hadn’t been with them.  In fact, she hadn’t seen Hal and Alice in the same place since she’d moved back to town (long-since overstayed, parents basement too crowded with two bickering teens and three shifts at the grocery store, g.e.d. just out of reach).  She’d exchanged enough nods with Hal in the frozen dinner aisle, both pretending the space between them wasn’t mired in ancient history and still raw rivalry.  Her path with Alice was limited to the high school drop-off lane, the one public gesture of maternal affection Jughead still allowed

Now, though.  She sighed.  It wasn’t uncommon for the women around here to lean on one another for comfort and safety.  Sad, really, how often that came on the heels of the men not living up to even the lowest standards.  

After a second thought, she fluffed up pillows and headed back towards the kitchen.  Coming towards her in the claustrophobic hallway came Alice and her child (Betty, she realized with a flash of deja vu, a reminder of when she and Jughead were the ones on the other end of this), and Gladys flattened herself against the wall.

“Thanks, Ms. Jones,” Betty murmured, her eyes downcast.

Gladys hadn’t the heart to tell her she hadn’t been a Jones for almost fifteen years.  

“Not a problem at all, darlin’.  What do you think about strawberry pancakes in the morning?”

Betty gave her a watery smile and Alice shooed her into the bedroom.  The door closed behind them, and Gladys let out a heavy breath.  There was always something going wrong around here.  You expected it, but it still hurt to see it happen.

Filled with a nervous energy (live wired and on fire, as her daddy used to say before the tar and the coal got to him; put a cork in that and you could power the whole nothern half of the states), Gladys flitted around the house, straightening and tucking and dusting, nothing seeming to be enough anymore.  She had another two hours before she had to be at her first shift at the factory down the road.  Then again, maybe she’d return that long ago favor and call in sick.  After all, she was entitled to a few days here and there (nothing like the dump in toledo where they squeezed every drop of your soul, pennies on the dollar, and still demanded more).

Just as she was running a cloth over the television set (only three channels, black and white; older than either of her children who preferred leeching ole’ henry’s wifi instead of -), the bedroom door shut quietly.  Gladys straightened and waited for Alice to appear.  When their eyes met, Alice’s stoic, no-nonsense rock solid mask crumbled into a mess of tears and grief.

“He’s -“

Poor gal couldn’t even speak properly anymore.  Whatever Hal’d done, it was enough to knock the sense out of Alice, and that was a scary enough prospect on its own.  She hadn’t been that thrown for a loop since they’d raided (stole) Mantle’s stash of E (curled up like kittens, high in the dusty sunlight on the trailer floor, alice laying out her future with hal and not her…).

Gladys quieted her and lead Alice to the love seat (third-hand from earl and katie, bless their hearts even though it did smell like that damn cat).  Alice tried to apologize for the interruption, but Gladys refused to let her.  Jughead she didn’t have to worry about - boy slept like a brick in a tornado - and J.B. was at a sleepover with some of her friends (best friends on the first day of school, always did get her daddy’s better traits, while jug soured down into his old records and writing, lost in his own world, too much like his mama to make anything of it).

Once Alice was settled, Gladys poured out a shot of rum and set it on the coffee table along with a box of tissues.  A few steps back, and Gladys was in the kitchen to give Alice a modicum of peace in the tiny trailer.  She poured a glass of water and set it next to the empty shot glass.

“Another one?  I have whiskey, too.”

Alice shook her head, a crumbled tissue in her hand halfway shredded to hell and back already.  On the table lay three more (three bucks a pop here, can you believe) and Gladys couldn’t help but want that to be the remnants of Hal’s body.  

“Hal, he -“ Alice’s words were cut off with a gut wrenching sob, and Gladys rushed to her.

Like she did when the kids woke up from their nightmares, she murmured platitudes and soft words, her arms wrapped around Alice in a cocoon of safety.  After a good long cry (glad she still wore waterproof, cheap, drugstore mascara would have ruined the fabric, though the concealer would do hell on the blouse), Alice steadied herself.

Despite her hair falling out of its unnatural wave, despite the botchy cheeks, red eyes, and snotty nose, Gladys was still struck by how well Alice carried herself.  Likely an armor built up having to suppress anger and frustration in this ticky-tacky town (hoa’s, pta’s, cya’s).  A rose of anger bloomed on her cheeks sent Gladys rocking back on her heels, a thrum of excitement rushing through her.

“I suppose you’ve heard about our town’s little problem,” Alice said, still speaking in polite euphemisms and innuendos.  She reached for the glass of water and primly cleared her throat (cats and spots, zebras and strips, snakes and scales; once, always).

“Depends on which one you mean,” Gladys said.  

She was being sarcastic, she knew, but it was the truth.  Riverdale hadn’t changed much from when they were growing up, damn whatever bullshit Hiram and his developers were trying to sell.  It still had the same pristine front, picture perfect suburban life style, full of well respected men trying to save the village green from its own preservation society, but now the fetid foundation it had been built upon was bubbling out from the seams.  The drugs, gangs, and murders were more visible now, no longer brushed under the railroad tracks into the Southside of town.

Hell, the only new thing about it seemed to be the mafia trying to gain a foothold.  And Gladys had her own plans on how to deal with that.

Mostly, though, she’d missed being able to push Alice’s buttons (eyes narrowed, tongue beneath her teeth, a flash of heat in a pan), to get a rise from her so she was the center of her focus.  If nothing else, it drew Alice’s attention away from her grief at hand.  

“But, if you’re talking about that black hood idiot,” Gladys drawled, wincing at the pins and needles attacking her as she stood, “then I’ve heard a bit.”

“Yes, well.”  Alice cleared her throat and looked away.  “It turns out you were right.  About Hal.”

“Oh?”

Gladys let it hang in the air.  It wasn’t often that Alice Cooper, nee Smith, admitted to being wrong about anything, especially when it came to her life choices.  And yet the juxtaposition of the two - the Black Hood and Hal - had caught her attention like a hook in a trout’s belly.

“About -?”

“About Hal,” Alice snapped.

She stood to pace the thin carpet of the trailer, her hands wrapped tight around her arms, the pastel green cardigan wrinkling under her fingers.  

“He’s been going around these past few months like a god damned fool, playing at being an avenging angel, murdering people who he thought deserved it.  I can’t believe I bought his lie about going bowling. The man can’t even lift a lawnmower, let alone a bowling ball.”

Gladys sat down on the love seat, one leg thrown onto the coffee table and watched Alice stew in front of her.  It was a mirror image of fifteen years ago, almost to the day.  She gently touched the corner of her eye, still bearing a white scar, and cursed the day she’d ever met that man.

“And then the bastard has the audacity to say that our children need to be purified.  That I need to be purified.  It was bad enough that he sent that letter to Polly, what he did to Betty -“

Alice stopped and tugged at her hair (bottle blonde to cover up the slow, steady march of time; at least a week’s worth of gladys’ pay for vanity every month).  Gladys stood and guided Alice back to the love seat.

“How about you start from the beginning?”

Another stream of tears, this time borne of frustration and anger, slipped down Alice’s cheeks as she dove head first into the long tale.  Hal always had thought himself above the rest of the town (secret son, hidden away from the world) even though his own sins bore bitter fruit of their own (alice angry and self-destructive in senior year; drunk on the floor; od’ed in the bathroom; blood running down wrists).   Somehow he’d managed to fuel that into something more productive - a picture perfect nuclear family and modest but plentiful business - until he finally didn’t.  

The first murder attempt, then the second, third, and fourth followed, no longer attempts.  Quit murders in the surrounding counties that went with only a few murmurs of disapproval.  Even his own family hadn’t been immune; daughters, tortured and deceived by the man meant to protect them from such things (kids of all things; for crissakes was nothing sacred?.

And Alice…

When she was done with her macabre tale, ending in Hal’s entrapment of his family and their violent escape, Gladys let out a low whistle.

“Well.  Shit.”

Alice let out a wet, wry laugh.  She curled her legs up under her and hugged a throw pillow tight (bought on a whim at a yard sale - two’fer deal she’d haggled; matched the lace curtains jb couldn’t help but make fun of).  Gladys stood and walked towards where her father’s urn sat on the mantle, a place of honor in a family who had little to do with ghosts of the past.

“What do you want to do about it?” Gladys asked.  

Standing on her tiptoes, she reached in an pulled out a rusted Altoids tin and a lighter.  When Alice caught sight of it she let out a real laugh this time, one that drew memories of simpler, happier times when it had just been the two of them against the world.  Wonder Woman and Sarah Conner, united together.  Until they grew up and out of middle school dreams and into the real world where bills piled up and mouths had to be fed.  

“You know we’re not in high school, right?”

Gladys grinned and fell onto the love seat next to her.  She popped open the tin and held it out to Alice.

“Do you want to do the honors?  You always were better at it than I ever was.”

Alice chewed her lip, the implications and scandal of what Gladys was proposing flashed across her eyes.  It was easy enough to guess the arguments against it, the same old ones she’d heard before (what if your mom/daughter/sister finds out you keep that in there? she’ll be more pissed that she didn’t find it sooner), but her hand was steady when she took the tin. Gladys watched her fingers work, long thin fingers still trapped by a band of gold.  The ring of a promise that fell flat and brought with it a hell of a right-hook in the end.

As she watched, Gladys let her mind wonder what would have happened if they hadn’t allowed themselves to be torn apart in high school.  If she’d only beaten the truth out of Hal in junior year when Alice vanished.  If only, if only, if only.

“What I want,” Alice said with a finality, the lid snapping shut a punctuation to her decision, “is to rip his guts out and feed them to him while that harpy mother of his watches.”

Gladys flicked the lighter, the flame dancing around the end of the joint.  Her eyes didn’t move from Alice’s lips as she took a hit.  Lines ebbed and faded, reminders of their time spent apart, waves of years and youth wasted.  In the poor ventilation of the trailer, the smoke wrapped them in a thin cocoon of safety, a gauzy curtain to shield them against the reality of their choices.

“Might have to lay a tarp down, but I know a few guys.”

The phrase sent Alice into a fit of giggles (ask freddie and fp, they know some guys) and Gladys shushed her with a crooked smile, reminding her that Betty lay sleeping not forty feet away.  Alice took another took and blew the smoke into Gladys’ face, a ribbon that caressed and teased her skin

“Or we could take care of it ourselves.”

“Just like old times?”

“Just like old times.”

(A few months later found Jughead and Betty at Pop’s working on a school project under Gladys’ critical eye.  Jughead, used to his mother’s hovering nature, enjoyed the free fries she dropped off between customers; Betty, it seemed, was far more perturbed by the woman’s sudden closeness with her mother.  It wasn’t until they were writing about Lady McBeth  (‘out damn spot’ seemed to Jughead less of a guilt ridden complex after this Black Hood business and more of an attempt at an evidentiary coverup) that he spoke on a subject that had been bothering him for a few weeks.

“Doesn’t it seem odd?”

Betty hummed and continued to write.  “What seems odd?”

“My father disappears three months before my mother leaves town, never to be seen again.  We come back, and three months later your dad disappears.  And each time, our mothers renewed their friendship just weeks before.”

Any goodwill Betty might have held towards Jughead froze quickly at the implications in his words.  Her fingers gripped the mechanical pencil hard enough her knuckles went white and the plastic cracked.  

“My father was a serial killer,” she snapped.  Blooms of anger rose on her checks and Jughead shifted under her glare.  “It’s not surprising that he’d run away after trying to kill his wife and his daughter in their own home.”

Cowed, Jughead picked at the lukewarm fries.  Her words didn’t change his mind, didn’t move his suspicions a single degree, but it did quiet his need to pry further into her opinion.

The matter was dropped as Macbeth and his realm descended further into madness.)

[zigtheeortega]

“’cause we're collectin' moments; tattoos on my mind”

pairing: raleigh x mc

@choicesmarchchallenge

word count: 2,071

song inspiration: sometimes - ariana grande 

tag list: @violinet​ ; @bloodxbound​ ; @dadrianraines​ ; @mentallych-ill-desi​ ; @adrixnrxines​ ; @roguemal​

author’s note: the lyric (that’s the title) from sometimes inspired this fic! i love raleigh sm. also sorry for the double post it just lined up that way lmfao. also sorry if this is an unpopular opinion, but i dont care for the platinum mc so i decided to make her more of what i thought raleigh’s type of girl would be (lmao). anyways, hope u enjoy!!!

She tripped over a large crack in the sidewalk, almost wiping out completely, but Raleigh’s strong grip managed to keep her going.

“C’mon, Dom, they’re gaining on us!” he laughed, whisking her through the street, cutting through an alleyway.

He stopped abruptly and pulled her close, a mischievous grin on his face. He held a finger to her mouth, and cocked his head in the direction of the street.

The paparazzi sprinted by, not even glancing in the direction of the dimly lit alley. The shuffling of their feet faded into distant patters.

Raleigh tiptoed to the opening of the alley and peeked his head around the damp brick wall, before jogging back to the shadows, the smile from before still lingering on his lips. “Coast is clear.”

“So what now, genius?”

He chuckled, hugging her close with one arm draped lazily around her shoulder. She could smell the cheap tequila on his breath, a reminder of their rendezvous at the sketchy bar.

She leaned into his touch, the buzz not quite wearing off yet. The alcohol weighed her head down, and before she knew it, she rested it on his shoulder.

“Well, I haven’t done anything truly reckless in a while. Gotta keep the bad boy image up,” he said, sliding his arm down to her waist.

“Are you gonna explain what that means exactly?” she laughed.

“You might not think it now, but I used to be a goodie-goodie,” he started, guiding her towards the opening in the alley. “When I first started in Sunset Skatepark, I was supposed to be absolutely perfect, and tattoos were a huge part of that, believe it or not.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re lying.”

“Honest to God, I’m not lying. I wanted them so bad that I got any old stick and poke that was offered to me, which I don’t recommend at all,” he shook his head. “Obviously they’ve been covered up since then by these beauties,” he gestured to the arm wrapped snugly around her. “But I miss the spontaneity.”

“You, Raleigh Carrera, miss spontaneity? Mr. Publicity Stunt? Mr. Dating to Get the Tabloids On His Side?”

“I know it sounds crazy, Dom, but I miss being kind of secretive. Getting a tiny stick and poke where no one could see was exhilarating.” She looked up at him, and his face was bright.

His face was reminiscent of the past, a hint of gratification that she knew he hadn’t felt in a long time. Raleigh had always struggled with being truly content with his life, and she knew that their whirlwind romance was something to fill his void, as harsh as that sounded.

She couldn’t imagine what he’d been through. She’d gotten a taste of the high life, and she was exhausted. Knowing that, she didn’t mind being the person to fill in the cracks, clinging to the pieces to keep it together.

He used chaos as escapism, as a way to outrun the parasitic tendrils of the industry, the burden that came with being a household name, and the inevitable role model title that came with it.

She knew he was chasing a high that he could never sustain, and if feeding into his law-bending fantasies was the way to bring out the best in Raleigh, she would do it no matter the cost.

“So you want us to get party tattoos?” She finished, and his features twisted into a sheepish expression, one that was foreign on his face. He wasn’t one to get beaten to the punchline, so he seemed surprised by her willingness to match his energy.

“What do you know about party tattoos?” He smirked, his curiosity piqued.

“That’s for me to know, and for you to find out… eventually.”

He quirked a brow and leaned back, glancing at her lower back.

“I’m not saying a word,” she giggled, grabbing onto the hand draped around her waist, intertwining their fingers.

They rounded the corner and spotted the neon sign of the tattoo parlor down the road from them.

“You sure about this? Tattoos are permanent, you know. Plus we’re not exactly in the right mindset for this.”

“I’m sure.”

They walked in silence for a while, the only sound between them the tapping of her heels on the concrete sidewalk.

He pulled on the handle, and the small silver bells attached to the inside of the door jingled, and a gruff-looking man covered in tattoos looked up from the magazine he was reading. Luckily enough, it had to be Raleigh’s most recent cover.

His eyes widened, and Raleigh stopped him almost immediately. “I’d really appreciate it if you could keep this between us. We had to outrun the paparazzi a few minutes ago, and we really wanted a night to ourselves.”

The man looked starstruck, so Raleigh continued. “I’ll pay extra to rent out the shop for an hour or two.”

He shook his head, finally finding his words. “No need, Mr. Carrera. I’d only request an autograph, and maybe a picture to show my wife, if you wouldn’t mind. She’s a huge fan.”

Raleigh flashed him his most charming smile. “You got it.” He grabbed a sharpie and the magazine, while the man switched off the open sign and locked the front door.

“You want me to make it out to anyone in particular, sir?” He asked, signing his name with a flourish.

“Yeah, could you make it out to Linda?”

“Of course,” he smiled, a few strands of hair falling in front of his face while he concentrated on the message he was scrawling.

The man led them to a back room, and sanitized his station before sliding on a pair of gloves.

“How do you want to do this?” Excitement glimmered in his eyes, and warmth spread throughout her chest.

“I thought it could be a surprise,” she said, already locking in on an idea.

“You read my mind,” he grinned. He stripped his shirt off quickly, his lean torso flexing as he shimmied off his top. She tried diverting her eyes, but to no avail. He caught her staring, a hint of hunger in his look.

She sat just outside the room on a small leather couch, thumbing through Raleigh’s magazine shoot and interview to keep herself company while the needle buzzed in the other room. The interview was alien to her; he was keeping true to his public image, but it was so different than the side of Raleigh he’d allowed her to see.

She pitied the public who’d never get Raleigh to be truly candid and vulnerable with them.

Soon enough, he was done, and it was concealed from her eyes by the small bandage.

“I have an idea of where I want it, but I’m not so sure what I need to do…” she trailed off, not knowing how to approach an underboob tattoo. Was it appropriate to keep the shirt on? To take it off? Should she just take her bra off?

“If it’s anywhere near your chest, you’ll have to take your bra off. You can keep your shirt on as long as you keep it above the area we’ll be tattooing,” the man said professionally, and it eased her mind.

Raleigh watched from the doorway as she unhooked her bralette and slipped it through the arm of her shirt. His eyes were trained on her as she laid down on the table, lifting her top to right underneath her nipple. She didn’t mind him watching her; a heat bloomed in her stomach when she truly realized how her body commanded his.

“Go sit down,” she said, shooing him away. He chuckled, raising his hands up in front of him, before plopping on the same leather couch she had sat minutes before.

She described the tattoo to him, and he looked at her like she was crazy. It was simple, but so reckless. Something she wouldn’t have even entertained the idea of a few months prior. But something that seemed so natural and… right.

The machine punctured her skin, stinging in a way that was a comfortable pain – therapeutic, even. She winced, sighing as the needle passed across her rib bone.

“I have to go back over it one more time, and I’ll be done. You’re doing great,” he said under his breath, intently focused on maintaining the steadiness of his grip on the machine.

She gritted her teeth as he passed over the tender skin again, sucking her breath in.

“You okay?” Raleigh called from the other room, concern laced through the raspy bass of his voice.

“I’m great,” she replied, gripping her shirt above her bra.

“You’re all done,” he said, rubbing a thin layer of a sticky substance on her skin before taping a small bandage over it. “I’m putting petroleum jelly on this. Don’t take the bandage off till this time tomorrow.”

Within a couple of minutes, Raleigh handed over cash and a hefty tip to the artist, and they were out of the door.

It was nearly 2 a.m., and her thoughts seemed clearer, the cloudy haze of tequila beginning to fade. They walked leisurely down the empty road.

The street lamps were illuminating small patches of the road, the stretches of darkness more prevalent than light. The apartments and small shops were closed – they were the only people outside.

He stopped her underneath the bright bulb of the lamp nearest to them, and grinned. “Were you planning on showing me what you got at some point?”

“Yeah, but only if you do it first,” she replied, barely able to think straight. Her eyes grazed over his features as he looked down on her, taking in the soft shadows left on his tanned skin, his jawline and exposed collarbone looking especially sharp under the yellow light.

“Alright, that’s fair.” He pulled up his shirt, before peeling back the tape and the bandage with it. He’d gotten a tiny cloud tattooed right above the paragraph of text on his ribcage.

“What does it mean?”

His eyes glimmered despite the dim lighting. “You’re the only person in this world that makes me feel like I’m more than what I pretend to be. And you’re the only person who’s really seen the real me, and makes me feel like I’m… worth something, you know? I feel like I’m weightless, like I’m floating when I’m with you. Like I’m dreaming. Like my head is in the clouds, but in the best way.”

He reached out to stroke her cheek, and she leaned into his hand. He pressed his lips against hers softly, and she chuckled once. He pulled back, eyeing her. “I never thought I’d see this side of you, but I’m so glad it’s my secret to keep.”

He grinned, and reapplied his bandage, gesturing for her to take her turn.

She pulled her shirt and bra up, just enough for the bandage to be free. She lifted the tape, revealing two letters: R.C.

His eyes widened. She could tell he was momentarily stunned, so she jumped right in.

“My whole life I’ve felt average. Just another girl chasing a dream that she’d never achieve because she sounded and looked like every other girl that she was competing with. You changed my life. One in a Million was my ticket, but you were the one who gave that to me.

“I never wanted to be ‘boring’. I was just cautious. Comfortable. Safe. You’ve brought out a side of me that I never thought I could be, because you believed in me. I could spend a lifetime thanking you, but I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“So you branded yourself with my initials?” He said, still stunned, but the look on his face had softened significantly.

“And you got a tattoo inspired by me, too. What’s the difference?” She smiled and sniffled, scrubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“I guess we belong to each other now,” he said, before sweeping her up into his arms and kissing her fervently, the distant sounds of the city keeping them grounded.

----

[hecohansen31]

I’m the Tinder date anon and just want to let you know I loved what you wrote, it was sooooo good! Could you write a part 2? Thanks 🙏💜

(A/N): Hello there, lovely!

I am extremely sorry that this took quite some time for me write it!

I honestly love these two so I couldn’t help but want desperately to write something nice and sweet for them and I hope that I somehow did!

I hope it didn’t disappoint!

WARNINGS: Mentions of Sex, Self-Conscious, Body Issues, Trust Issues.

(Tumblr shit won’t let me modify this from the computer hence I can’t add the “keep reading” button, please don’t hate me) 🙈

Ivar was awoken by a body shifting next to him, which wasn’t unusual, since it had happened many times that Hvitserk feel asleep drunk next to him and sometimes or when Ivar was sick or feverish.

But this body smelled divinely.

And it was extremely female, by what he felt as he subconsciously pushed himself against it, meanwhile she gently moved out of the bed to reach for something…

… maybe the phone that was ringing in the room, quickly accepting the incoming call.

“What the hell, Elaine?!” she replied to the phone, keeping her tone low as if she didn’t want to wake him up “… oh c’mon as if you have never left me for a boy… and Hvitserk, at least, accompanied you back home…”.

He smirked, remembering Elaine, who, the previous night, had been so annoying that even the great fuckboy, Hvitserk had been turned off.

His brother had dreaded the entire night, which was strange, since he was the one who usually didn’t enjoy dates, but that night had been quite nice for him, since he got a beautiful girl in his bed.

He leaned into her warmth, meanwhile her ushered tone lulled him.

“Yeah… he wasn’t a psycho and I had fun… now won’t you stop bothering me and go back…” an annoyed huff meant that Elaine had no intention to leave her alone “… yeah… no I am not telling you the details… because it is none of your business!”.

He giggled slightly and the laugh was transferred to her shoulder, making her turn around and found him awaken and open-eyed.

She couldn’t help but blush, something that was seen even in the dark of the room, in the cocooned refuge they had created the previous night, after all the “activities” they had tried, together, eventually falling to the grip of slumber, due to the few drinks they had shared.

“… I have gotta go” and although he could hear Elaine protesting on the other line, she closed the call and even went as far as to switch off the phone and push it back onto Ivar’s nightstand, before she turned to him, mumbling softly, right onto his swollen lips “… I am sorry if I woke you up”.

“I don’t mind it” he mumbled, although he hated whenever the alarm would ring up in the morning “… Elaine seemed pissed”.

“Your brother was kind of an asshole with her” she replied, as she pushed her hands out onto his chest, slightly cold due to having been outside the blankets, as he nodded his head, as if to say that ‘he knew it all too well’ “… but she is also some kind of an asshole”.

He laughed delighted, pushing his hand onto her hips to bring her closer, and they met halfway for a kiss.

Definitely a “good morning” kiss, as their noses bumped awkwardly together, and this got a little giggle in the kiss, and it quickly spread in his mouth.

His hands moved up, tangling in her hair, meanwhile she became molten under his touches, a sensation he liked quite much, even more the previous night as he had ducked himself between her legs, licking her to oblivion, after things between each other had gotten quite heated.

He still remembered that moment in which she had stopped buckling up her hips, chasing the orgasm on her way, just to still all her movements as a sudden tremble had gone through her body and she had come copiously onto his face.

She had tried apologizing, but Ivar had shushed her, licking her clean.

“…I don’t mind it, I actually think that we should try doing that again”.

And she hadn’t been able to protest, smirking lightly embarrassed.

They were halfway through having a second round, her hands slowly drifting closer to his member, meanwhile his mind was focused onto marking up her neck, with soft love-bites, when Hvitserk opened the door to his room, without knocking.

“Brother, did you leave “YouPorn” on last night?” he asked, with a knowing smirk, probably thinking that, like him, Ivar felt the constant need of … an “helping hand”.

But what he discovered was much juicier, and immediately his eyes focused on the two naked bodies, hidden barely by the blankets, and Ivar shifted to hide her body with his, to preserve some kind of modesty, as she squealed surprised.

Hvitserk seemed almost ashamed and rushed out, immediately, mumbling an “I am sorry”, although they could hear hysterical laughs being uttered outside.

A tense silence grew between them, after Hvitserk had exited the room and quickly she moved to push herself to stand, holding the cover onto her chest, to shield herself, meanwhile she looked around the room to relocate her clothes, as she quickly pushed her phone in her bag.

Ivar felt himself lose all the warmth in which he had woken up to, but he was unable to do anything to stop her, mostly due to the fact that he was “a bit” embarrassed himself, and understood completely that she hadn’t wanted to be seen with him.

He let her dress in peace, after he had showed to her the restroom, he had then looked for his boxers, moving to dress up in some sweatpants and a casual shirt.

He felt somehow ashamed to be seen like that.

His legs hurt, mostly due to all the “physical activity” he had done the previous night, but he preferred to stand onto his clutch or just sit onto bed, than to crawl around his room.

She came back after a little bit less than fifteen minutes, dressed in the outfit of the previous night.

She had also washed off the little make-up she had worn, and Ivar literally beamed softly at her beauty, now even more perceivable, still blushing a bit.

“Ahh… thank you, for letting me stay and use the bathroom” she mumbled, moving close to him so that she could put on her shoes, their hands touching them accidentally and he literally rejoiced at the shy touches.

And she seemed to agree with him, smirking meanwhile she pushed her feet into the little black booties, before she adjusted her messy hair in a high ponytail.

She was honestly the cutest and Ivar wanted to lean in and kiss those lips again and again, peaking them till they became reddish and swollen, as they had been the previous night.

But he just stared at her, almost creepily and when she moved her head to meet his eyes, he immediately pushed himself to look at his legs, waiting for her to move away, and eventually she left the bed, adjusting herself onto her shoes and taking a quick look in his mirror.

“Ahem…” she mumbled, her hands clutching into nervous fists “… it was a nice night… I haven’t had this much fun since… I think ever”.

He wanted to show how much those words affected him, but he didn’t know how.

“… maybe we could do the same, another time?” her tone was tentative, almost as if she hadn’t expected him to be completely enamored with her, after a night… as if he hadn’t wanted to repeat every little thing they had done the previous night, that morning…

Hadn’t Hvitserk caught them, he would have gladly.

“Yeah, it was fun” ‘oh good job, Ivar… totally the coolest thing you could have ever said’.

But she smiled brightly, reassured, almost wiggling a bit onto her feet, before she moved down to plop a kiss onto his cheek, peppering a few more all onto his face, which got him too surprised to react properly.

Then she moved away, quickly getting a strip of paper out from her bag and handed it to him, as with a pen she wrote something quickly, turning again to kiss his forehead, before she wandered off, with one last look at him, who stood there, unable to move and process what had happened.

He heard her greet Hvitserk and slowly slumped back in bed, his head hitting with a thud the mattress meanwhile various images of the previous night flashed in his mind, the way they had laughed together at their clumsy moves around the bed, before they plopped onto it.

The way he had tried desperately to focus on her, changing the balance and pinning her to the bed, meanwhile he pushed his fingers into her pretty hips, to keep them from buckling up, meanwhile he peeled her soaked panties from her warm center to lick her clean, meanwhile she had ridden his face.

It was the first time ever that he had tried something with a girl, not many were willing, but (Y/N) had seemed extremely aroused, and the act in itself had made her enough dizzy that he got her all trembling around him, as he settled onto her chest after she had come.

“Let me return the favor” she had mumbled as he pushed her back down, to calm her, ashamed by the lack of his “reaction” to her “… you made me feel so good”.

“I just…” it hadn’t taken many words for her to understand somehow, and she hadn’t asked much more, settling back onto the mattress and softly kissing his head, her hair going through his head to ease his shame, meanwhile he slipped onto a soft slumber “… this is enough”.

He hadn’t had such a nice night of sleep, since ever.

He decided to face Hvitserk, after hunger got the best of him, after he had hidden the little ticket with her phone number in a drawer of his nightstand, the one locked with a little locket.

His brother was halfway through a bowl of milk and cereal, and Ivar, for a moment, believed that he was too busy eating to even acknowledge his brother, but he wasn’t enough sneaky and Hvitserk looked at him with a smirk, before he whistled.

“… congratulations brother”.

“Go to hell, Hvitserk” he mumbled, meanwhile he dragged himself to the counter, starting up the fire to prepare himself some pancakes, since, although he didn’t feel like facing his brother, he couldn’t help but feel slightly happy.

“Oh… of course, but I am glad that my brother finally got some… physical activity… done” he continued talking, meanwhile he played around with his bowl, looking hungrily at the pancakes Ivar was starting to cook “… and with an hottie, like that, I am proud of you”.

“Don’t you have some kind of button to switch that mouth off” shouted Ivar, trying not to mind him too much business, as he continued his meticulous preparation.

“… when are you seeing her, again?” continued his brother, not minding his “slightly” threatening tone, and the fact that he was close to where the knives were set in their kitchen.

“When are you seeing Elaine, again?” he retorted, as he moved to turn the pancake he was working onto, sending his brother a smirk of his own, gaining a muttered it’s a “low blow” “It is none of your business, also”.

“It was literally thank to me, that you got her in your bed!” retorted his brother, meanwhile he stole a bit of the pancake dough, as he moved to get chocolate syrup from its shelf.

“Well… she still could have turned out to be a freak” mumbled Ivar, not wanting to let his brother know that he actually liked her, and that he had done a good thing, for once.

“… from what I heard the only thing she was a freak in, was your bed”.

A fork was thrown his way and Hvitserk laughed, before he realized that something was bothering indeed his little brother, and decided to bring it up, when Ivar moved his plate of newly made pancakes on the kitchen table.

“You don’t seem too happy” he mumbled, as he munched onto the pancake he managed to steal from his brother.

“… I just…” he was just trying to find a reason why a girl like (Y/N) might be interested in him.

With all his problems.

Of course, she hadn’t seemed to mind his legs, but girls never stuck around on the long run…

… and wait till she discovered that she couldn’t satisfy her that way.

She wouldn’t be walking that cheerily away from his house…

She would be running away, for sure.

“… did you not like it?” asked Hvitserk, almost as if it was an offense to him.

“You are an idiot” muttered Ivar, thinking that he couldn’t escape this, so he might as well… try to open up, with his idiot brother, who, at least, had more experience with women “… I did, but I am sure that she won’t be very interested in going out with me, away”.

“Ahem… Ivar… I know that you don’t believe me, but I truly think that I basically saw her giggle her way out of the apartment, this morning and she was almost…”.

“Please don’t finish that phrase” he mumbled, facepalming himself, meanwhile he tried to shut up his brother stuffing a fork full of food in his mouth “… and I just… my legs…”.

“She didn’t even notice them, and she doesn’t seem the type that mind such thing” spoke his brother, through a mouth full “… she isn’t like…”

“Margrethe?” he asked, knowing all too well that the blonde bitch had spoken about his “little” problem to anyone who seemed to have ears that could listen “Fredys?”.

His previous girlfriend, could he consider her that, had been what Hviterk had defined from the start as a “gold digger” but Ivar had never believed him, preferring to bash into her compliments and gentleness, that physical contact that had meant the world for him, since nobody had treated him in that way, almost making him feel like a god.

But he soon discovered that she hadn’t wanted him for anything that she had mumbled in his ear late at night, but more for his money and Hvitserk and Ubbe had been more than happy to help him throw her out.

“… I was going to say with the typical… ‘she is not like the other girls’, but also that… is indeed true” he explained, a bit uncomfortable since he knew that those two periods brought bad memories in his already irascible brother “… I have to say that I was a bit busy with Elaine… but she honestly seemed to be into you and bery sweet, you are lucky brother”.

Ivar nodded, slightly, although he didn’t look too convinced, wondering whether for once his brother had shown himself to be wise, or he was just going to do another mistake.

She didn’t want to seem a clingy girlfriend.

(She wasn’t even his girlfriend).

But she couldn’t help but wonder if the connection she had felt with Ivar that night, had been felt just by her.

She had left him his number, and three days had passed from their ‘date’ and no call from him had come, although she had hoped so, and each time her phone would ring, she would be having a mini heart attack, hoping it was him.

It was never him.

And it was getting to the point that she was sure he wasn’t interested in her in the slightest and had just wanted a good fuck.

Although from the way he had been damnably charming and careful with her, she wouldn’t have guessed it.

In her constant state of annoyed waiting, she had been able to move even Elaine, who, one day, went  to her, and slipped onto her desk a small line of paper with a series of numbers on it, which she hadn’t understood at first, and then her roommate had simply mumbled:

“It’s Ivar’s phone number” she had simply commented and had explained “Hvitserk gave it to me, last night, since he said that ‘his dumb brother is a bit slow in these things’ “.

“Oh, ahem… thank you… I guess?” she tried to appear absolutely not appalled by the entire thing.

But Elaine simply smirked.

“You got it bad, don’t you?” smirked her roommate, slinging beside her onto her kitchen table, meanwhile she played, nervously with the strip of paper “He better treats you well…”.

“I…” she mumbled, trying to find a proper reply “… don’t think he is interested in me, like that”.

Elaine looked at her as if to say “nonsense”, before nudging her lightly to get her to continue her discourse.

“…I left him my number and told him that I didn’t mind… doing it all again…” and then she started fidgeting with her hands “… and it has passed three days with no calls or messages”.

“You do realize that men are idiots, and slower than us”? Elaine spoke up, laughing lightly “… but also I think that he is simply shy and needs a bit of a push… I don’t think that the guy who dumped me after a date… would have given me his brother’s number, if the brother in question didn’t have a thing for my roommate…”.

She still didn’t look convinced, but she tried her best to take a deep breath and Elaine gently caressed her back to relax her.

“And even if it doesn’t work… at least you won’t be in this limbo waiting for a sign…” she winked at her, before jumping away and lightly trotting towards her room, just to turn around “… just send him a message, do it for me”.

She still felt a bit down, but chose to indeed send him a message, although she was damnably scared that he didn’t want the same or might think that she was moving too fast.

“Hey, I hope I am not bothering you… but on Monday I am going to be left alone, because Elaine has another date… and since I liked our last one… maybe you could come over… so I could show you my own collection of alcoholic beverages…”

She honestly felt extremely cringey re-reading it, but ended up sending it anyway, passing terrible fifteen minutes, waiting for a reply and in the end, she thought about switching off the wi-fi so that she could focus a bit on studying and only switched it on after a few hours.

And when she opened it, not expecting any message back, since Ivar probably just chose to ignore her (had that been truly Ivar’s number, and not a terrible joke made by Elaine), she found out that Ivar had answered her, and even used emojis.

Wow.

She didn’t breathe properly for a few minutes.

And then she focused on the message.

He had replied:

“Hey, sweetheart (ten points for the nickname) you never bother me, although can I ask how do you have my number? (perfect he thought she was a stalker…). But I am happy that you did contact me, I was trying to take courage to ask you out, but you have more balls than me, apparently (and smiling emojis)! And if you want some company, I am always up for it, just let me know if I can grab something to repay you for the hospitality! Have a nice day, lovely! See you (and your alcoholic beverages collection) on Monday!”.

She was halfway through imploding, redness onto her cheeks, as she re-read the message, to make sure she wasn’t making stuff up, immediately jumping around the kitchen at any Taylor Swift song she could muster up in her mind, meanwhile Elaine snickered, having exited her room for a quick break too.

“Please don’t do that with Ivar, when he comes on Monday” recommended her friend, before she moved to join her friend in her dance “… I am happy that at least somebody will get laid on Monday, maybe not on the couch, since we both spend there out single nights”.

Elaine looked at her, as she exited the bathroom, all dressed up for her home date, with Ivar.

Through the days that had separated her and Ivar, they had chatted non-stop, delving in a more comfortable situation than their starting one, although she couldn’t help but feel like Ivar was keeping himself a bit back.

But she hadn’t wanted to push him and was more than glad to take what she could get.

“Is it too much?” she asked.

She had dolled herself up, even going as far as putting on her newest dress: a little black dress with little crystals onto the velvety fabric, bringing even more awareness to the heart-shaped cleavage that showed elegantly what she had been give by mother nature.

She had avoided heels, mostly because she hadn’t wanted to trip onto Ivar, but her make-up was full-blown, accentuating her eyes and lips, although she was sure that her lipstick would be either onto a napkin or Ivar’s lips, since she already missed them, by the end of the night.

Or so she hoped.

“No, no, I am just thinking that you won’t even arrive to the sofa… and straight up do it like animals on the floor”.

She almost threw a small spoon to her roommate, who giggled and moved outside the door, quickly pushing her form in her coat, meanwhile she muttered about having left some condoms under the sofa pillows in case they needed it.

And what was worse was that as Elaine exited, she saw Ivar waiting on the threshold of the door, a light blush on his cheeks showing that he had heard what she had said, and she quickly rushed to him, hiding her face, to welcome him.

He had his crutches in one hand and in the other he held a bottle of wine, for which she thanked him.

“Oh, it is the least I could do… since you were gracious enough to host me”.

He seemed definitely much less relaxed than in their text messages, but she tried not to give it too much thought, showing him the sofa as she moved to collect omething for the wine bottle.

He complimented her house and she gently replied, continuing the small talk till she was next to him again and inevitably caught him looking at her, and as he saw himself being caught red-handed he turned his head away, blushing delicately.

“Is it too much?” Gosh she had done a huge mistake…

“No no” he rushed to reply, gently putting his hand onto hers, almost as if it was natural “… you actually look gorgeous, very very gorgeous and I feel like a creeper looking at you, constantly”.

She giggled and smacked softly his chest.

“Look all you want, I don’t mind it” and to reinforce that she got up and moved to settle the take-out she had taken for the night (after having admitted to Ivar that she couldn’t cook to save her life, except the most basilar things), swaying lightly her hips.

As she turned, she found him looking at her ass, with no shame.

There she remembered about Elaine’s teasing and thought that maybe it would end up more real than what she had thought.

After they were settled they started eating and this gave them a chance to talk with much more calm on both side, which made them more relaxed and playful, and she thought about teasing him under the table, but when her leg brushed against his, more accidentally than by true intention, he yelped and immediately his knees shot up.

They hit the table with enough force that both their glasses fell and, although they didn’t break, they stained with the wine in them the white cloth on the table, but she wasn’t worried about it in the slightest, because Ivar moaned of pain, after the entire ordeal, and she rushed to him, worried anything might have happened.

But he just pushed her away.

Quite literally.

She couldn’t help but feel a bit hurt by the gesture and took it as him pushing her away, because it had been her who had hurt him.

She waited for him to calm himself, meanwhile he checked his leg, pushing his fingers onto his skin and gently caressing it, to ease the pain.

It was only when his attention shifted towards her that she asked if she could do anything.

“No no, I just need to lay down a bit” and as she moved to help him up, he rejected her again, making her feel as useless as she could.

“I am sorry” she muttered, meanwhile she tried to calm herself down, from the anxiety that was burning up in her stomach: she had basically ruined the entire night.

“For what?” he asked, meanwhile he laid himself down, carefully handling his leg.

“I shouldn’t have… shit… I am sorry”.

“You already said that” his tone was stern but soft, and he patted the handle of the sofa, to make her sit beside “… it wasn’t your fault… I was just not expecting it”.

“I’ll try to remember it, next time”.

He looked at her, confused, as if he was surprised that she wanted to try again.

“… aren’t you… disgusted by my reaction?” he seemed surprised and she dared to softly reach out for his hand “… I literally can’t stand the touch of another…”.

“Then I’ll be more careful”.

For a minute she realized the truth, he wasn’t annoyed with her: he was annoyed with himself.

And with his body.

“… you don’t have to be that nice” he mumbled almost ashamed, but she didn’t seem to mind it, instead leaning down and gently kissing him on his lips to silence any reply.

“I am not just being nice, I really like you” and she blushed hiding her face in his chest, meanwhile Ivar almost naturally circled his hands around her “… although it might seem crazy”.

“Yeah it is” he commented and for a moment, she thought he had said the truth “… it is crazy that you, a fucking beautiful girl want to end up with a monster like me”.

“Oh, you want to play this game?” she retorted, knowing what was bothering him “… you seriously can’t say that, when you look like a fucking Greek god”.

“I’d prefer something like Norse god” he mumbled, making her laugh lightly, meanwhile she pushed him away, as he linked them back together, gently kissing her cheeks as she leaned down to kiss him properly, the kiss taking all their embarrassment away and completely enveloping them together.

His hand came onto the small of her back, gently caressing relaxing circles on it, meanwhile she moaned softly in his mouth, making him take more confidence and gently pushing his hands lower.

She giggled, definitely giddy and pushed him away, before softly grinding against him.

And his gaze became troubled again and his hands went away from her bum, almost, although definitely more gently than before, pushing her to the side, in order to get her to gently slide away, which she complied, although with a worried look.

“I just can’t…” he mumbled, taking his head in his hands, and she had to take one away for him to focus on her.

“Is it something about me?” she didn’t understand, he had called her gorgeous and had kissed her like his life depended on it “… maybe I am not your type, and you are doing this just out of pity…”.

She was panicking hard and he was the one who got her to focus on him, tightening his hold onto her hand to get her to face him: he was red in the face and his stance had something of aggressive, not towards her, but he looked like he just wanted to spit something out.

“I just…” he took a deep breath “… I just can’t get it up… because of all the leg things”.

She didn’t know what to mutter, surprised, not talking, something that Ivar took badly, immediately taking it as a ‘I am not interested anymore’ and made to rush away, but she pushed him down, something which was quite impressive, but the fire burning in her eyes, said that she wasn’t taking any bullshit.

“… you can’t?” she asked, calmly, and he just nodded, hiding himself from her “… well I don’t mind it, last time, I literally… you know… without the need of your …”.

The sight of her extremely embarrassed got a thrill of excitement coursing through Ivar, although he had to admit that he was feeling quite ashamed of himself.

But she hadn’t laughed, neither pitied him, and that was something he was thankful for.

“So… for my little problem… I understand if you want to quit it…” but before he could quite his phrase, you had swiftly shushed him.

“Do I have to repeat myself?” she didn’t want honestly, she wanted to kiss him.

Now his lips were even more swollen, and pretty…

“No, I heard you fine the first time…” he mumbled, coming closer as if he wanted to see the truth in her eyes “… but in the long run, you are going to be annoyed with me”.

“Or I might not?” she replied, making him face her, gently laying a few kisses on his noses, playful enough that she saw his eyes shining again “… I am already half in love after two dates, don’t you have a little faith in me?”.

“Just had a lot of people who betrayed it” he seemed pained by saying it and she soothed the tone, with a soft kiss on his forehead, feeling him purr under her.

“I am sorry for it” she commented, gently taking his hand in hers, and holding his gaze “… but, although I am not pretentious enough to say that ‘I am different from other girls’ because that is some male bullshit, I truly care about you and, even if I know that we are mostly strangers, so you are free not to believe me, but I wouldn’t hurt you on purpose”.

“I just… don’t want you to regret this” he mumbled, chewing on his bottom lips.

“Oh, believe me, I am sure I won’t” again that reddish color, was drawn onto your cheeks “… I have had many guys with a perfect functioning… you know what… and I mean they didn’t make me…”.

“… cum?” he suggested softly, sending her a smirking look “… you know that we are adults”.

“I almost liked you when you were a tad insecure with that kicked puppy look” she mumbled, hiding from him, just for him to engulf her softly in his arms, a bit calmer due to the confession.

He just hoped she wouldn’t change her mind.

And she hoped the same.

“So, after this emotional moment, do you want to see my collection of alcoholic beverages?” she joked, trying to lighten up the mood, exiting her head from under his arms.

“… just if I get to see your bedroom next” although he was blushing adorably, Ivar seemed more lighthearted and before he knew it, he was spurred up on his feet and she pushed him towards her, almost not caring about his legs.

“Well why should we wait for that?”

[yesloverboy]

Touch Me (MGK x Reader)

Requested: Anon!

“Would you do a mgk one shot where him and the reader go to a big rave festival, like edc or something, and they're on x and it is just amazing them? Like their so into everything around and each other? Maybe a lil smut”

Note: I’ve only been to a rave once so this may have been a bit of a stretch, but oh my god did I love writing this. I also (do)n’t recommend that you use illegal substances. 

word count: 2,278

[Warnings: 18+ for smut, voyeurism, swearing, and drug use.]

permanent tags: @colsonbakersnoseringmain, @lululovesgwtw, @kingbouji3

 “Colson, I’m bored,” you whine, body reclining in a heap of pillows and blankets on the hotel bed. Your boyfriend is seated at the desk across the room, furiously scribbling away at his journal. You know interrupting him at a time like this is rude, but part of you doesn’t really care anymore. Hours had passed since Colson has spoken to you, and you’re starting to become impatient.

 You had been on tour with Colson for weeks, and he’s barely had the time to even look at you, let alone enjoy your company. Now the band is in Las Vegas of all places, and all Colson wants to do is keep working. You had always admired Colson’s work ethic, but he has a tendency to work himself to the brink of collapse. Even though you want your boyfriend to give you attention, you also know that if he doesn’t take a break soon he’ll be close to burning out.

 “Colson, please,” you try again, desperate to break through your boyfriend’s creative trance.

 Colson eventually sighs and turns to look at you, slamming his notebook shut. “What is it, Y/N?” he sounds exhausted, and you know that being cooped up in a hotel room isn’t making it any better. Colson is the kind of person who feeds off of other people’s energy, and yours alone isn’t going to cut it.

 “Can we please go out and do something?” you ask, careful to keep your voice delicate, “We’re in Las Vegas for god’s sake. You deserve a little break.”

 Rubbing his face, Colson gets up and sits at the end of the bed, shoulders slumped forward. You crawl over to meet him, snaking your arms around his back and onto his broad chest. Pulling him tightly against you, you place a gentle kiss on the side of his neck, hoping the small gesture is enough to ease his nerves.

 “You know we can’t go anywhere right now,” Colson murmurs, a large hand linking comfortably around your wrist to hold you in place, “Everyone will recognize us.”  

 As much as you hate to admit it, he has a point. Humming thoughtfully, you think back to when you and the band first rolled into town on the tour bus. The flashing neon signs had advertised everything from magic shows to strip teases, but one event stuck out in your mind among the rest.

 “What about EDC?” you find yourself asking, not quite realizing that you’re thinking out loud.

 “That rave thing?” Colson asks incredulously, twisting from your grip to look at you. “Is that this week?”

 “According to the flashing neon signs all along the strip, yeah I’m pretty sure it is,” you look at Colson expectantly, feeling that deep down he’s probably going to say no. Sure, you and your boyfriend are known partiers, but ravers are a whole different story.

 Much to your surprise, Colson doesn’t say no right away. Instead, he lifts his eyes to meet yours, raising an eyebrow as if to say; Go on, convince me.

 “Well, if you think about it a rave is kind of perfect,” you explain, “we can enter through the VIP section and by the time we slip into the crowd, no one will recognize us.”

 “We don’t have anything to wear,” Colson argues, a smirk beginning to form on his face.

 You roll your eyes, “Oh my god, Colson. Where is your sense of imagination?” 

...

 After about an hour of rummaging through yours and Colson’s suitcases, you were finally able to pull together some impromptu rave outfits from your boyfriend’s stage wear. There honestly wasn’t much in the both of your luggage that was rave appropriate, but, from what you could see online, it seems that the less clothes the better. For some reason, the idea of dressing up and pretending to be someone else excites you. Colson, on the other hand, doesn’t seem as thrilled.

 “Baby, aren’t you worried that people won’t know that you’re mine?” Colson complains, trying to mask the concern in his voice as he begrudgingly allows you to smear some of your body glitter on his neck and shoulders.

 Using your glitter coated hands, you grab the sides of Colson’s face and pull yourself up on the tips of your toes. Placing a soft kiss to his lips, you face the worry in Colson’s eyes.

 “Nope,” you reply, “I’ll be with you the whole time, silly.”

 Colson sighs, “But you look so good like that.” Your boyfriend gestures to your body with a tattooed hand, making your cheeks turn pink.

 Considering the fact that you and Colson weren’t prepared for a rave, you had decided to dress up your old bikini with one of your boyfriend’s long, Off-White belts and a pair of platform sneakers. It’s nothing spectacular, but you’re definitely showing off way more skin than you’re used to.

 “Oh whatever,” you giggle, “by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be looking even better.”

 You dig through your suitcase and pull out a large, shredded cropped t-shirt and hand it to your boyfriend. It’s a shirt that you usually wear to bed, but you figure it’s something no one would ever expect Colson to wear.

 “What the hell is this?” he asks.  “Gotta cover that MGK back tattoo somehow,” you smirk, delighted at the opportunity to force Colson into a crop top.

 Rolling his eyes, Colson tugs the shirt over his head, the ripped hem only reaching to the middle of his torso. You can feel your mouth fall open as you watch the thin fabric cling to your boyfriend’s chest, accentuating every ripple of muscle perfectly.

 “I look ridiculous,” Colson complains as he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the bathroom mirror, “Worst of all, I still look like me.”

 “Not for long,” you say, dangling a bandana in front of his face. You had snagged a few from one of Colson’s merch guys at the beginning of the tour, and now is the perfect time to put one to good use.

 You help Colson tie the bandana around his neck so that he can pull it up over his nose and mouth later. Sure, a few dedicated fans still might recognize the two of you, but under the flashing lights you were almost positive that you would have no problems blending in.

 With an excited grin you squeeze Colson’s hand, “Ready?”

...

 As you and Colson approach the VIP entrance, you can feel your stomach bubbling up with excitement at the sight of laser lights flashing in the distance. The far off roar of the crowd gets your heart pumping as you step forward, the gentle hum of the bass buzzing beneath your feet. You are just about to pull Colson through the gate when he grips your arm firmly, bringing you to a full stop.  

 “Hey baby, gimme just a second, okay? I’ll be right back,” Colson says, ducking away and jogging back towards the parking lot.

 Confused, you lean against the fence by the entrance and decide not to question Colson’s motives. More than likely he was probably going somewhere quiet to give his daughter a quick, goodnight phone call. The image brings a smile to your face as you think about how big your boyfriend’s heart is. Colson would bend over backwards for the people he loves, and you felt so lucky that you got to be one of them.

 After a few more moments of being lost in thought, you catch sight of Colson returning with a huge smile plastered across his face.

 “Where’d you run off to?” you ask.

 Colson reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a small plastic bag with four little blue pills inside.

 “I figured if we’re going to go to a rave, we might as well do it right,” Colson replies, shaking the bag in front of you triumphantly.

 You bounce on your heels excitedly, and give your boyfriend a peck on the cheek. Of all the things you and Colson had done together, ecstasy had somehow flown under your radar.

 “Want one, baby?” Colson asks sweetly, leaning in until he’s inches away from your face. You nod back vigorously, wanting more than anything to get the night started properly.

 “Then come get it,” he grins, popping one of the blue pills into his open mouth.

 Using the bandana around Colson’s neck for leverage, you pull your boyfriend down to your level and connect your mouth with his. Colson pulls you flush against him, not caring about the crowd of people inevitably watching from afar, fingers digging possessively into the small of your back. Gripping your jaw roughly with a single hand, he dispenses the pill into your open mouth with the tip of his tongue.

 Pulling away from Colson, you swallow the pill. He tries to lean in for another kiss, but you step just out of his reach. As breathless as Colson’s touch makes you feel, you know it’ll be even better after the ecstasy takes effect.

 “Easy there, rockstar,” you coo, tugging Colson’s arm in the direction of the VIP gate, “let’s get this party started.”

...

 As it turns out, the flashing lights and distance music at the gate are nothing compared to what it’s like amongst the crowd. You and Colson had rushed past the VIP pool parties and roped off bottle service sections in favor of the pulsing, sweating mass of people at the center stage. Colson allows you to pull him along, his bandana secured firmly over the lower half of his face.

 Of all the concerts and music festivals you had been to, you had never been able to feel the music radiating through your body quite like it is right now. As soon as you find that the two of you are sufficiently lost in a sea of strangers, you can feel Colson’s long arms weave around your abdomen, pulling you closer. You grind your hips against his, allowing your body to move in tandem with the rhythm of the music.

 You grin as Colson’s hands wander up your body, lingering over every curve. Usually you wouldn’t be okay with this much public affection, but under the kaleidoscope of neon light and sound, nothing seems to matter. Everywhere you look, people are melting into one another, and you find yourself wondering how something so public could be this intimate.  

 As your hips gyrate to the beat, you realize it’s nearly impossible to know how much time is passing. Your heart pounds erratically in your chest and, suddenly, it feels as though Colson’s touch isn’t enough. Despite the amount of people around, you are desperate to have him closer.

 Turning to face your boyfriend, you wrap your arms around his neck, leaving your face just inches away from his. Colson grabs your ass, sharply pulling you so that your legs are woven between his. Teasingly, you roll your body, riding against his upper thigh. As his grasp on you tightens, you decide to lick a stripe on the part of the bandana where his mouth should be. To your satisfaction, you can feel his length harden in the leg of his jeans.

 You try to look up at Colson innocently, but something in his eyes has darkened beyond the point of return. With one arm still firmly holding you in place, Colson slowly runs a free hand down your exposed stomach. Your breath hitches as one of his fingers plays with the waist of your bikini line. Pleading with your eyes, you try your best to protest against his touch but the contact feels far too good for you to care.

 Colson’s hand slowly sinks past your waistband, palming your heat possessively. His fingers rub against you teasingly, careful to avoid making contact with your clit. The ecstasy pumping through your veins makes every touch better than the last, and you know that if Colson could hear you, you’d already be a begging mess.

 As if he can read you mind, Colson slips a finger inside of you. Your nails dig into Colson’s shoulders as you rock against his touch. All of the blood in your body is singing as it flows through you, and you feel more physically connected to Colson now than ever. You moan as your boyfriend inserts another finger, but the sound is lost amongst the crowd as it continues to envelop the both of you.

 With shaky hands, you lift Colson’s bandana enough to connect your mouth to his, the movement of his hand getting more frantic as you breathe into him. You can feel your orgasm building with the increasing tempo of the music, the added vibration stimulating your body in ways you didn’t think possible.

 It only takes one final curl of Colson’s fingers before you’re clenching around him, your orgasm overtaking you in waves of burning hot pleasure. Using both hands to support your trembling body, Colson kisses you deeply. The sensation isn’t as intense, but it brings you and your hazy thoughts back down to earth.

 Even though you can still feel the music vibrating within your chest, you can almost swear that yours and Colson’s hearts are humming to the same rhythm. You continue to move and sway against him, not willing to let go just yet. Colson seems to share your feelings and leans into your embrace. You smile contentedly as he begins to pepper gentle kisses along your neck and jawline, his touch is as gentle as the beat of butterfly wings.

 It might be the drugs talking, but you can definitely envision yourself doing this again. Very, very soon.

Masterlist

[morphituu]

Milagro

Chapter 3: “MTF”

Ch: 1 - 2  

“There- right there,” she gasped, her head thrown back and jaw dropped in bliss. Her fingers dug into the wall and eyes fluttered, the heel of Nick’s palm pressing tight circles against the small of her back where it had caused the most misery. He steadied her as she swayed, almost delirious to have the tight knot in her muscles worked loose after weeks of achy days at work alongside bad chairs that only made it worse, even with the small support pillow she’d bought to try and alleviate the discomfort.

“Fuck,” she drawled, and he patted her side, snorting when she faced him with heavy eyes and a loose grin.

“Feel that good?” he asked.

“You have no idea how sore it’s been,” She leaned back into her hands, her stomach poking farther out as the ease in her spine returned. “Now that I can’t, all I wanna do is sleep on my stomach,”

“Maybe a heating pad would help?” he suggested.

“Or you could keep giving me back rubs,” she smiled, her bottom lip between her teeth and walking into his chest until her chin rested against his collar. Callie didn’t loosen her hold around his waist until he agreed, nuzzling her face against his neck as he pressed wandering kisses into her jaw.

Before he could get carried away, he unwound from her, more notably removing his hands from her ass. “Okay I gotta go,” he kissed into her cheek, even leaning down to place one on the top of her stomach.

“Text me when you’re off- I might still be at Rosie’s.” she called as he walked towards the door, and he waved, bothering Pucca who had been sprawled across the couch before leaving.

Callie exhaled, looking around at the few things that needed to be done before leaving, scratching her growing stomach like an animal. Need more cocoa butter.

↠

His fingers flipped through the paperwork as he ambled towards the back of the station, his Clubmasters pushed up and the last few bites of a concha between his jaws. His new stack of Miranda Warnings, a new citation book, the daily roster of criminal suspects that they were to keep an eye out for- nothing exciting. Looked to be another uneventful day ahead of him.

“Jakoby!”

Nick startled, turning to find Ward stomping down the hallway furiously, pushing through other officers.

“Wha?” he asked, the concha still in his mouth and hairless brows tightening.

“The fuck have you been?” Daryl hissed, pulling Nick back down the hall, his papers and bag nearly falling from his arms.

“Daryl what’the fu-”

“Kandomere’s been here an hour grillin’ me and you haven’t been answering your phone!”

“It didn’t ring-” but he was already pulled into an office, his neutral mood immediately plunging as soon as he laid golden eyes on the blue-haired elf perched neatly at the edge of the table, turning his cold gaze on the officers.

“Orc,” Kandomere greeted.

Here we fucking go. “Elf,” Nick replied just as snobbily, setting his papers down and sitting beside Ward.

“We’ve been trying to reach you all morning,” the elf explained, fixing his baroque waistcoat, marred with golden swirls embroidered into royal blue, silky fabric, a shining chain hanging from the pocket that matched the dazzling breastplate most elves brandished.

“Didn’t get any calls,” Nick replied coolly.

“Would you like me to show you the call logs?”

“Here,” Nick took out his phone, sliding it across the tables surface. “See for yourself. Oh but wait- you already have everything tapped! How could I forget,” the Orc grinned.

“A small price to pay for your freedom,” Kandomere replied matter of factly, his eyes on the folders he was pulling from his equally elegant leather portfolio briefcase.

“Can we just get this over with?” Ward interjected, and Nick crossed his brawny arms.

New statements and briefings- page after page of incident descriptions were handed out; encounters with possible Bright’s, and always the same questions: any sightings, any signs, anything suspicious around their homes. Always the same questions with the same answers.

Call logs were always laid out, and Kandomere could never seem to wrap his head around believing them when they’d explain spam calls were a far more common thing than ringing up an old Bright friend they’d had no contact with in years.

After the small stacks of papers had been skimmed, photos were distributed; a large stack that made up what Tikka could’ve looked like, or how she could be disguised. There was always that one to reference her, not that Nick or Daryl needed it. The events of that night would always be branded into their minds.

Newest photos were always at the top, and new ones hadn’t been added in months, but Nick stopped on one before he could toss it aside with the others. The elf wasn’t even showing her face, and her hair was very long, however it was the shape of her mostly concealed profile that halted him. Small chin, but sharp jaw. He acutely studied it, even tilting the image, willing the girl in the photo to turn.

“Something ring a bell?” Ward asked, looking over.

Nick winced, still moving the photo around under the light like it would change the angle. “Hair is too long,”

“Need I remind you it was 4 years ago you saw her,” Kandomere pointed out.

“No, you needn't remind me,” Nick mimicked. “Where was this one taken?”

The Elf overlooked his papers. “Dana Point, 2 days ago,”

It had been years they endured these weekly visits, even after formally agreeing they’d go on with their lives like nothing had happened. But if there was one thing the MTF was known for, it was twisting arms to get the information they wanted, which included written agreements evaporating into thin air like they’d never been interrogated into signing. It had also been long enough that Nick had figured there’d never be anything about Tikka to ever show up in these meetings again. But now, here Nick was, questioning the clarity of his own eyesight as he stared down at this strangely familiar portion of a face.

Nick placed it down apart from the others. “This one’s a maybe,”

“For real?” Ward exclaimed, snatching it before Kandomere could.

“What do you say?” Nick asked him.

“Dunno. She was always cowering and hunched over but this girls all straight and normal,” he sighed, placing the photo down.

“There’s been no other sightings like this one?” Nick asked, a little more invested than before.

“No,” Kandomere dropped the folder onto the table bitterly. “That individual slipped under the radar,”

Nick thought back, shuffling through the papers to locate the briefing from the week prior. “Is this after the sightings in San Diego?”

Kandomere nodded, watching Nick flip the found paper back and forth, skimming it for anything he could’ve missed in his boredom.

“Okay assuming it’s her- why would she come back? LA is MTF’s headquarters,” Ward asked, leaning forward.

“Don’t you think I’ve asked Shield of Light that same question?” Kandomere angrily bit back, and the officers rolled their eyes. Back to dead ends. “Lest you not forget to not interact if you see her-”

“And not apprehend.” Nick and Ward said in unison, only stirring Kandomere’s annoyance further.

“We’re done.” Kandomere turned as he spoke, and the men rose, no goodbyes or handshakes before they departed.

The two walked in silence, always left with a bad taste in their mouths after meetings like those. Ward would never say it aloud, but Nick suspected he was impacted differently from Tikka. Though Nick had had a close brush with death, Ward had come face to face with accepting he was a Bright; a responsibility that weighed heavily on his mind and filled him with fear. Harnessing something so powerful, even briefly, had been a branding experience. He’d sometimes look at himself in the mirror, searching for anything he’d missed over the years that could’ve given any indication to being such a powerful individual, and it sometimes left him unsure of who he really was.

“That was fuckin’ weird,” Daryl mumbled as they made it to the locker rooms.

“What’s weird would be Tikka coming back,” Nick said just as lowly, moving to his locker.

“Maybe she wants to catch up around some drinks,”

Nick glared flatly, pulling the lock off and stuffing his belongings away for the day.

“Would you call them? If you saw her?”

He studied that question, a few scenarios flying before his eyes in rapid succession before finally shrugging, then nodding.

“Seriously?”

“She brought a storm with her last time. I can’t have that shit around Callie and the baby,” he explained, a little upset over the confusing emotions of betraying a friend he’d once been ready to throw his own life over to keep safe, but his priorities had changed drastically in the years. He’d gone from have nothing to lose, to everything. “What if Sophia was around when you saw her?”

“Nah man, I get it. Kids change shit.” Ward nodded, buttoning his uniform.

Nick finished dressing, his belt the last item to wind around his hips and everything shoved into the utility pockets before he stopped to fix the photos on the inside of his locker. The 12 week ultrasound was beside his and Callie’s photo booth strip, and below that a few shots of them together over the years, even one of Pucca when she’d dug up his garden for the first time.

They both turned when Sergey came rushing through the locker room, ignoring protests from defensive officers that were merely offended by his proximity as he fumbled to open his locker.

Nick’s nose scrunched, the pungent scent pushing a low chuff from him. “At it with Dura again?”

Sergey exhaled, eyes closing as his forehead hit the locker. “Ukhe'uk uko viciouuk nalkruska ukhe'uk shal heaav,”

“No shit?” Nick laughed, Ward looking on curiously, a brow cocked.

The rookie pulled up the back of his shirt with a long groan to reveal the deep crescent marks adorning his skin, and the deeper scratches moving up his spine and arms, some of them covered with bandages.

“Jesus,” Ward looked on in horror beside a cringing Nick, connecting the dots. “You do that to Callie?” he asked him, nudging his shoulder.

“She likes to be roughed up a bit,” Nick smirked, causing Ward to blow air between his lips.

“Y’all are too much.”

Nick bumped Sergey’s arm, leaning in to say lowly, “Fold lav-li shal gism agh ukhe'll calm poshat.”

“Fold her!?” Sergey exclaimed, his eyes wide.

Ward looked back as he was leaving the locker room, concern written across his features.

↠

The door opened, and Rosie smiled as soon as Callie did. “Heeeeey!”

The sisters hugged, arching over Callie’s stomach. “And how’s my little niece doing? Is she doing good?” Rosie cooed to her belly, her hands being slapped away.

“Why is everyone so convinced it’s a girl?” Callie mumbled in question, walking into Rosie’s home before kicking off her shoes by the door.

“I’ve never been wrong, where’s Nick?”

“Working. Where are my babies?” she asked, looking around and leaning back into one hand as the other fanned her face.

Rosie glanced back outside, and when she found no truck, she spun. “Callie! Did you take the bus?”

“It’s fine, people are a lot nicer when they don’t know you’re carrying an Orc’s baby,” she winked, even though Rosie was in a state of disbelief. “Ninos!” she exclaimed, arms throwing open when Dyani and Joaquin spotted her from upstairs and came bolting down into her embrace.

She showered them with kisses and soft words, slipping pica fresas into their waiting palms before they tried to pull her back towards their rooms.

“Gonna get them all wired and then leave me with them?” her sister said bitterly, moving to the living room.

“Ah you’ll do the same with mine when it’s old enough.”

“C’mon, you’re not gonna be able to last,” Rosie pushed, a wide smile across her devious face.

“I want it to be a surprise!” Callie defended, holding Dyani’s foot steady as she painted her tiny toenails, the narrow, blue eyed girl looking on in amazement how her aunt did it so meticulously.

“And at that moment, you’ll look down at it’s little face and say oh, I guess I did want the other one,”

“You’re awful,” she laughed, setting one foot down and picking up the other to balance on her round stomach.

“I wanna throw a baby shower for you. I’ll pay for a goddamn ultrasound if I can just know the theme!”

“Unisex showers exist,” Callie battled, flashing a stubborn glance in her sisters direction.

“What about a gender reveal?” There was a glimmer in Rosie’s eyes when she tried that one, but Callie still shook her head.

“Nope. You can’t crack me, it’s useless,”

“Agh, okay pues,” Rosie gave up, sitting back in her couch and her fingers tapping against her Corona as she watched Callie paint on the glittery blue polish. “Trish offered to help with it,”

Callie snorted. “She wants an excuse to hang around and gossip. She’s become Tia Laydee, two different baby daddies and all,”

“That’s a steep accusation,”

“It’s true and you know it,” she paused to let Dyani’s foot go, telling her to keep her feet up as she spun in her spot and snuggled up beside Callie with her tablet in hand. “I told her to leave me alone and she went and started kicking up shit just to be petty. You notice that whenever she wants to reconcile it’s always passed along through you or mom? She’s never called or texted me. She’s two faced,”

Rosie nodded stiffly, knowing she was speaking truthfully on the matter. At least I tried, Rosie thought to herself, but knew there would be nothing more to argue. She wouldn’t want unnecessary drama in her life either, especially if she were back in the position of a first time mom.

“Feel any kicks yet?” she asked instead, drumming her fingertips against Callie’s stomach.

Callie shook her head, the corner of her mouth pulled in. “Sometimes I think I do,”

“You’ll know when it happens,”

Callie’s hands rounded her stomach, and she looked outward, her head a little loose atop her shoulders and her thumbs rubbing slowly over herself.

“Hey,” Rosie poked her arm. “Que paso?”

A shrug, but her shoulders remained in. “What if it never starts kicking?”

“Don’t,” Rosie held up a finger, halting the intruding thoughts. “Don’t go there. You’ll drown yourself before there’s even a hint of a possibility of that happening,”

“I’ve already lost-”

“Before you finished your first trimester. You’re not in pain, your scans are clear, and nothing is wrong so there’s no reason to believe something like that would happen. You’re what, 16 weeks now? You’ve officially left that place and now you’re here. You’re gonna make it this time,” Rosie comforted, smoothing her hand along Callie’s hair as she looked on with a weak smile, her eyes glossy.

Her leg was bouncing, her eyes a swarm of unsaid worries, but the longer Rosie’s words settled into her mind, the more she calmed. Rosie knew to an extent what she felt- to have your own creation ripped from your arms, and then to go on with that as a scar seen across your own body no one else could, but she still wished there was something she could offer to ease her, though she knew there would be nothing definite until Callie could hold her baby in her arms.

“How’d you and Nick manage to pull it off?” she asked, veering away from that dark corner. “Was it the fertility treatments?”

“No, not this time. I mean it technically worked the last time, but the shots and mood swings and everything- I couldn’t do it again. Sex became like a chore after having to do it on a schedule around the clock,” Callie explained, speaking from the corner of her mouth when Dyani looked at her mom curiously, the mention of a very taboo word sparking her interest.

“You,” Rosie snapped her fingers, pointing towards the back room Joaquin was in. “Ve con tu hermano,”

“Maaa!” Dyani griped, her curls framing her thin face as she leaned forward to look past her aunt.

“Now, mija.” Rosie asserted, her expression set in stone as her daughter stood, and trudged slowly to the back room stock full of games and another TV they had all their consoles hooked up to. She looked back to Callie in hopes her aunt would save her, but she hid her smile behind her fingers and suppressed a giggle when Dyani’s head poked out from behind the wall, only to be snapped at by her mother until she settled into the room with a loud, exasperated groan.

“Nick went back to using his nose to track my cycles,”

She saw it take a few times over in her head for it to register, but not make any more sense. “What?”

“He can smell when I’m about to start my period and he goes into heat around those times so it was just about waiting,” Callie explained. She’d never said this out loud to anyone, not even her friends that she kept up with, so it left her feeling a little… embarrassed. She’d gotten used to these little Orc things, but to others, it was all new and admittedly, probably, very strange.

Rosie’s mouth was pursed into an ‘o’ as her words turned in her head, her eyes moving around. “So you had sex on your period?” she asked lowly.

“Before, like right before. A little during… yeah, we did but it worked!” Callie exclaimed with a reserved smile.

“And that kept you from miscarrying again?” Rosie asked, sitting deeper into her seat.

“Oh!” I thought she meant… ”I don’t know actually. Nick says 3rd times the charm but I think it has to do with the Orkish prenatals my doctor prescribed,”

“Oh yeah? Stronger dose?”

Callie nodded eagerly. “My nails and hair are growing so fast now it’s stupid,” she mumbled, curling her fingers to look at her nails.

“Yeah I was gonna say, you didn’t have all this the last time I saw you,” Rosie chuckled, lifting a few locks of hair off of Callie’s shoulder. “Little girl is gonna have so much hair,” she added, her face tightening in tenderness.

Callie rolled her eyes. “I’m just gonna go ahead and assume it’s a girl since everyone thinks it is,”

“I’ve never been wrong. Guessed all four of mine and got Santi’s, too,” Rosie boasted, earning a light shove from her sister. “Have any names picked out?”

“Nick mentioned Leonardo last week and I haven’t been able to get away from it since,” Callie said softly, her bottom lip between her teeth in a smile as the name brought forth warmth.

“A little Leo,” Rosie pouted. “Too bad it’s gonna be a girl,”

Callie snorted. “Veronika or Camilla than. Maybe Renata,”

“Nice long names that’ll be a bitch to spell in kindergarten,”

“Fuck you.” Callie laughed, throwing a stuffed animal as Rosie guarded her Corona.

↠

Just walk in when you get here chato

Nick chuffed, replying to the message sourly: Stop calling me that, brat

But he followed Callie’s instructions after parking the truck in Rosie’s driveway, and let himself into the tall two story house. No one to be seen in the foyer, and from what he could see around the corner, there wasn’t anyone sitting on the couch before the large wall mounted TV, either.

“Uncle Nick!”

He pulled his head back, finding Dyani bounding towards him from down the hall that leads to the other rooms of the house, her dark curls bouncing around her face.

“Ahh there’s my girl,” he grinned, leaning down to hug her tightly and place a few kisses on her head as she embraced his waist. “Where’s your Tia?”

“Drinking with mama,” she sang, her wide grin narrowing her already fox like eyes.

Nick’s ears flicked. “Drinking?”

“It’s iced tea, you little liar!” he heard Callie call from the back of the house, and frowned down at Dyani playfully as she looked up at him with big, guilty, blue eyes.

“Can I play the plant game on your phone?” she asked innocently, and he narrowed his eyes at her with a low ‘hmm’ before handing the phone over, watching her bound away in the direction he was headed.

He found his lover in the same guest room they’d spent a few days in a couple years back when Rosie and Daryl had gone on a trip, leaving Dyani and Joaquin in their care for an extended weekend. Nick withheld a chuckle, wondering if Rosie would ever know that he had Callie pinned to that very wall she had hung a few family photos on.

Callie was rested in the lush chair beside the spare bed, her feet propped up on a stool with pillows under her elbows and a mug of tea balanced on her round stomach, beaming at him warmly.

“That’s a Kodak moment,” he grinned.

“Look at all the maternity clothes Rosie still has!” she piped excitedly, pointing to her sister who was half in the closet and throwing bags around.

“Yeah now you don’t have to pay an arm and a leg at the mall,” she huffed, stacking another two pairs of elastic banded shorts onto the already tall pile atop the bed.

“That expensive?” he asked, leaning his knee against the bed as he looked over the piles of jeans and shorts and shirts.

“About 60 bucks a piece,”

“What- why!?” he shouted, holding up a pair, trying to justify why they’d be so heinously priced.

“That’s why I’ve been doing the hair-tie trick all this time,” Callie mentioned.

“Why didn’t you sell any of this?” Nick asked. “Could’ve made a fortune,”

“Cause I knew you’d have a baby one day,” Rosie said softly, looking at Callie in the same manner.

“Now I can buy that stroller set,” Callie realized, and Nick looked at her enthusiastically.

“You wanna?” It was the first time she’d been the one to approach buying anything baby related, and it made his heart thunder with excitement.

She nodded, hiding her smile behind her mug and toes curling as he walked towards her and leaned obro his hands against the armrests to kiss her a few long times, but only until Rosie cleared her throat loudly.

“Excuse me, I don’t like being the third wheel in my own home,” she smiled sarcastically.

“Let’s go get it tonight,” Nick offered, catching Callie off guard.

“I don’t have the money to right now,”

“I’m gonna buy it,” he corrected, as if she should’ve known that already.

“You?”

“Yeah, me. That’s my baby,”

“That’s in my stomach,”

“That I stuck in you and is my job to carry around-”

“Oh God, both of you stop and just go buy the stroller,” Rosie demanded, having finished bagging the last of the clothes up and grabbing the pair still in Nick’s hands.

“Excuse me you had no place butting in,” Callie grinned smugly.

“Don’t make me punch you in the stomach.” Rosie fired back, and Callie’s jaw dropped as Nick scoffed loudly.

Their visit dragged on, partly due to Dyani asking Nick to help her with her homework when Rosie caught her on his phone. It wasn’t often that kids had Orkish uncles at their disposal when taking Orkish language courses, so he sat with her at the small desk in her room, walking her through pronunciation and sentence structures, impressed with how quickly she was picking up a third language.

It also gave Callie the chance to help Rosie set up dinner in the meantime, a quiet Joaquin stepping in to follow his mother around as they threw something together. Daryl arrived soon after, but was greeted by a smack to the back of his head instead of a kiss from his wife when he came in with a cigarette between his lips and motor oil coating his hands and boots. Not only was there no smoking allowed inside, or around the kids, but around his pregnant cuñada, no less. He quickly extinguished it, giving a low and bashful ‘sorry’ to Callie before a quick kiss on the cheek, then a hesitant one to Rosie who’s killer gaze could’ve ended his life there at that moment.

By then, Nick and Callie stayed for dinner, all of them huddled around the long table and chatting with one another, mostly about Rosie and Nick’s day to day bullshit on calls and Daryl’s dilemmas with people who didn’t know anything about car maintenance.

By the time they were leaving, a deal had been struck up between the men that if Daryl changed the oil to Nick’s Dodge, he’d plant the ridiculous amount of flowers and shrubbery Rosie had insisted on adding to their jungle of a backyard.

With goodbye hugs and kisses to the kids, they left with bags full of clothes and a few containers of leftovers, a pep in Nick’s step as he rounded the truck to help her in.

“You’re awfully chipper,” she grunted, struggling into the truck.

“I have an idea in mind,”

“Which is?” she asked, but he closed the door and made his way around to the drivers side, throwing the bags in the back. “Hello?” she giggled.

“You’ll see,” he turned the ignition.

“Oh c’mon,”

He shrugged. “It’s just-”

Nick’s phone buzzed loudly against the center console, and a quick glimpse at the screen had him exhaling, already annoyed immensely. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me- hello?”

“Orc, get here now,” Kandomere greeted, just as cheerily as Nick had.

“I’m kind of busy-”

“Now.” The line went dead, and Nick looked at the screen, struggling to stifle the stream of curses that fought past his clenched jaw.

“Duty calls?” she asked, leaning on an elbow in his direction.

“Shouldn’t take that long if you wanna come with. We can still go afterwards,” he tried, hope curving his hairless brows up.

“Determined to get that stroller, huh?”

His finger pointed to the door lock in a jabbing motion once he’d closed the drivers door, and she pressed the button diligently, her feet lifting to sit indian style in the seat as the music volume increased inside the truck.

Antagonism radiated off of Nick as he stomped hotly to the station, a deeper glare on his face than usual. Small greetings were brushed off quickly in his haste to make it through the winding halls of the station, the door bouncing off the wall when it swung open to the room Kandomere was already in, Ward sat before him in a chair.

Nick stopped his rampage. He could feel the tension in the room before he’d even need to scent it. He was quieter in closing the door behind him, and there was neither hateful glares or bitter remarks between the Orc and Elf. Something was wrong.

Kandomere gestured towards the seat beside Ward, and before Nick sat, the photo of Tikka in his hands stopped his heart. It was entirely, definitely her. Longer hair, sharper clothing, but there was no mistaking that face.

“Holy shit,” Nick mumbled, observing better once it was handed to him. “Where?”

“LA, 2 hours ago,” Kandomere handed out more, a brief encounter showing her moving through a crowd of people before melting into the background again.

“Why didn’t you grab her?” Ward asked.

“There’s a system in place for identifying people. We can’t just grab anyone off the streets,” he pinched the bridge of his nose as he exhaled that, barely getting it out through his clenched jaw.

“You really needed to confirm this?” Nick asked with raised brows, a disbelieving grin on his face.

“Orc-”

“Nick. My name is Nick,” he interjected, golden eyes unwavering against Kandomere’s icy blues. He tugged the ends of his waistcoat stiffly, fixing his posture.

“There’s also been spikes in wand activity,” he grabbed another chart, tossing it onto the table. “There were sporadic signals around these towns, but since then there’s been another source setting off the detectors,”

“Two… two wands?” Ward yelled.

“What would she need two wands for?” Nick asked below his breath, overlooking the multiple blips that had been recorded.

“She was raised Inferni,” Kandomere reiterated.

“And then she helped kill her own sister. Why would she revert back?” Ward questioned, but none of them had answers, only assumptions.

“Ideals change. Something could’ve spooked her- anything. Bright’s are unpredictable,” Kandomere listed, unsatisfied with his own justifications. He watched the officers exchange looks, and straightened his collar. “You two are going to be tailed for the time being,”

That caught both of their attentions, their heads snapping in his direction.

“Until she’s apprehended I can’t risk you two running off-”

“You think we wanna get caught up in that shit again? Risk my daughter? He’s got a baby on the way, we don’t need this shit! We ain’t got nothin’ to do with it this time!” Ward hollered, standing fast enough that his chair fell back behind him.

Kandomere only organized the scattered papers, biting back harsh words, and instead gritting through dazzling fangs, “You won’t even know they’re there.”

Nick only scoffed, pulling his hands down his face. This is just fucking great.

“Don’t approach-”

“We fucking know!” Ward forced out as calmly as he could, though Nick could see the red burning in his eyes and that vein bulging on his forehead. The men rose, uncaring enough to push in their chairs or even bother closing the door behind them as they left.

Kandomere exhaled, eyes still trained on the open door as he calmly stacked the papers and photos, his tired eyes eventually moving away.

Nick and Ward both seemed to have the same general idea, for in unison they headed for the morning briefing room where no one would be. It was dark, the chairs placed upon the tables, the smallest bit of light coming in from the hallway. The perfect place for the men to let go of that held breath, and circle aimlessly to collect their scattered thoughts.

“This is such bullshit,” Nick scoffed, stopping to squat down with his hands on his head.

“Why the fuck does he assume she’d come scopin’ us out? If she’s stirrin’ up dark magic how are we gonna help?” Ward questioned, out loud, but he was facing a wall, trying to push the confusion out in hopes it would stifle the anger.

Nick shook his head, staring at the cold floor. “Callie’s gonna leave me this time,”

Ward spun, dark brows knit together. “Say what?”

“I keep getting her involved in horrific shit, but this time? If she finds out? She’ll leave. If I even mention a little of what’s happening she’s gonna freak and wanna protect that baby even if it means leaving me,”

“No she won’t,” Ward argued, but Nick stood, his body looking like it was on the verge of caving in on itself.

“I dunno- maybe it’d be best to send her away ‘til this blew over,”

Ward stepped in front of him, his head following his until Nick kept eye contact and accepted that ‘you sound like a fucking dumbass’ look. “Yeah, you do that. Sending your pregnant lady off for some unknown amount of time is the best way to start a family,”

The Orc exhaled, nodding, turning away with that idea obliterated.

“Just keep it cool. Don’t say anything until you have to,” Ward advised. Nick wondered then if he’d ever match that degree of level-headedness, but figured it had taken years upon years to even get there. Nick still had some time.

“Sherri know?”

Ward smirked, shaking his head. “Nah, she’d leave my ass too,”

A beat of silence, and then they chuckled, both in the same goddamn boat.

“Callie’s waiting,” Nick intoned, his mood a little less miserable.

“Yeah I gotta get goin’. Keep your eyes peeled, Fogteeth.” Ward cautioned, bumping forearms with Nick in classic Orkish style. They parted ways in the hall, Daryl moving onto work and Nick heading for the front, returning quick hello’s and nods a little kinder this time around.

Outside, his eyes immediately scanned the night for anything out of place, but couldn’t see anything outright, neither MTF or platinum blonde elves with glowing wands.

Callie was still curled up in the passenger seat, scrolling through her phone and taking small bites of the duritos Rosie had sent them home with.

“Oo, you look irritated,” she chewed, watching Nick climb into the car with a hard exhale.

Don’t say anything until you have to. “Some moron mixed up a bunch of intakes,” he lied, masking his nervous lip biting by turning to pull his seatbelt on. Her soft ‘ha’ calmed him, and he blew air quietly before turning to start the car.

“How d’you keep your cool working with so many idiots?”

“Same way you do working with a bunch of slackers.” He winked, apprehension draining from his jittering hands with every smooth palm of the wheel. In Callie’s hold, they stopped fidgeting altogether, even as he often glanced in the rearview mirror, keeping a watchful eye for the tail.

↠

He pulled the cart from the others, pushing it to her waiting hands so she could lean on it while they wandered. It was either this or asking Nick for a piggy-back ride; her back was in complete misery. Doctors warned that every week her center of gravity would shift, more so carrying an Orcs child, but she didn’t expect this.

“Don’t leave me alone- I’ll buy half the store,” Callie cooed, already eyeing the dollar section hungrily.

“That’s why I ask you to come with me to Home Depot everytime.” he cackled, steering the cart from behind her when he saw a familiar glint in her eyes upon scoping out the small, porcelain donkey shaped salt and pepper shakers. Callie groaned low, muttering and arguing as he did with his face pressed against her hair and directing the cart towards the back of the Target.

Of course they didn’t stay entirely on track. She finagled the cart back into her control towards the pet section, picking out, in Nick’s opinion, an extremely tacky baby pink studded collar for Pucca, but she dished out the same opinions when he plucked a bundle of onesies with poorly drawn duckies all over them from a rack.

“But look at the socks!” he argued, face twisted in affection when he held up the duck shaped booties.

In the end, both were tossed in the cart before finally heading for strollers, a few snacks also thrown in, of course.

He followed with the cart as she looked them over, critical of the brands until she stopped, and pointed to the tag.

“This is the one,” she declared, and he caught up after stopping to look at the expensive oscillator, looking it over just as critically.

“It’s all black,”

“Sleek,” she grinned, head tilted as her touch traced the soft curve of the carseat handle to the pleated canopy that folded neatly like fairy wings.

“What if it’s a girl?”

“Then we’ll cover it in pink blankets and make sure she wears shirts that say daddy’s girl,” her playful grin aided her words, and Nick flushed, his ears twitching as he cleared his throat and grabbed the large box from below to place in the barely spacey enough cart. He hushed her lowly when she elbowed his side, seeing the gooey emotions take hold of his imagination. Countless times he’d envisioned a little girl with his nose and eyes, attached at his hip during everyday errands and tasks, showing her everything and never less than nothing.

“You sure you wanna buy it?” Callie asked, following when he redirected the cart.

“Mhm.” he hummed proudly, his chest puffed. It was cute, really, Callie thought. Looking at him, she’d never peg Nick for the dad type, but he was already adapting to the role seamlessly.

The lines were long and cut into the paths of shoppers, igniting a few squabbles between people that thought it ridiculous to be stuck at a Target so late at night, but with Nick’s arms around her and hands clasped atop her stomach, leaning back against his chest meant it was easy for her to ignore that racket as they waited for their own line to progress.

“Can we have Jamba Juice for second dinner?” Callie asked, having spotted a few people carrying the cups. Saliva pooled in her mouth just thinking of the Mango-orange smoothie.

“No more cheese?” his chin moved atop her head as he spoke.

“Always, but our avocado wants a smoothie,”

Nick chuckled. “Don’t blame it on the baby,”

“It’s like you, always hungry,”

“You can’t use that anymore since you’ve started eating your weight in cheese.” An elbow in his ribs made him grunt, and effectively shut him up.

The cashiers bewildered expression when looking between Callie’s round stomach and the towering Orc beside her stirred a few low growls from Nick, but she just pulled him along once their purchase had been made, a comforting arm looping around his as they headed for the food court.

His line of sight still jumped around in the rearview mirror as he drove home, a wide hand splayed across her stomach as usual. He was to an extent relieved that she hadn’t caught onto what he felt was poorly masked distress he tried to play up as ‘stomach aches’. More like nausea, honestly.

Callie in turn held a hand over his, her thumb stroking the rough skin in hopes to somehow ease his troubles that went far beyond what he was letting on to. Even that small caress alleviated some of the unrest however, as well as keeping a safe hand over their baby.

Another glance in the rearview mirror, but he didn’t see any sign of a tail. Kandomere had been truthful.

His hand smacked Pucca’s bottom firmly, the pitbull dropping her front paws from Callie’s stomach and her ears flattening against her skull like her body did to the floor as he scolded her, tail still wagging and big eyes looking up at him.

“Nick,” Callie pouted, her heart going out to their K9 companion.

“She knows better- what if you knocked mama over?” he asked Pucca, but she was rolling onto her back, feet in the air and wiggling back and forth. “Dumb beast.” he mumbled, patting her side a few times.

Nick didn’t waste time in sitting in the middle of the living room with the box, meticulously laying out the pieces of the stroller and carseat set, and offering an upturned palm to Callie to help lower her onto the ground next to him, more of an observer as she sipped her Jamba Juice. She traded him the instruction manual for pieces again and again after she’d contributed her expertise which was clicking the carseat into the car base.

It took no time at all to finish popping the last wheel into place, and Nick stood to master folding the stroller before picking up the car seat to click it in, pulling the canopy down.

“This is surreal,” he grinned, wheeling it around the house, testing it’s turning radius and balance before taking the car seat back out to study its weight.

“Those get heavy as shit with a baby in them,”

“Weight lift with it then.” Nick lifted the car seat, flexing playfully to make her giggle.

When he suddenly grabbed the base beside her on the carpet and took with him the car seat and his keys once hung on the hook by the door, she struggled to follow him outside, finding him already half in the backseat of the truck and tugging on the seatbelt. She waited, leaning back into her hands and swaying side to side to try and alleviate the restlessness in her legs as he pulled back forcefully against the seatbelt wound into the base, finally at peace with how secure it was before clicking in the car seat, and stepping back beside her.

“That looks good,” he nodded, both of them looking at the elegant black car seat perched perfectly in the middle seat.

The corners of her mouth kicked up in a small smile. “Yeah it does,” she agreed, looping an arm around his back as he leaned over to kiss her head, his arms hung around her shoulders. It was becoming easier to imagine their lives ongoing now with a little mutt mixed in, but it was harder to imagine that one day they’d be arriving to the hospital with an empty car seat and leaving with a baby in it, coming home no longer as just a couple, but a family.

“This is what you had in mind earlier?” she asked, and he haughtily nodded.

“Now to get one of those baby wrap things. Carry it right here.” he motioned to his chest, and her heart fluttered some more. More images flittering across her eyes; a baby so small in his strong arms, cradled safely against his chest.

Her eyes welled some; god damn hormones.

It was then that Callie loosened her grip on her bubbling excitement, and let more of it consume her, allowing the daydreams and desires to occupy the darker parts of her mind that immense worry had populated.

No more of that shit. You’re staying ‘til the end, little one.

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Ahhhhhh shiiiit it's starting There's gonna be a lot of fluff and cuteness in this sequel so if you're not about it, please step aside while i release all the pent up fluff i had in me while writing the endless smut of Bell Peppers haha. thanks for reading!🖤

Orkish translations: -Ukhe'uk uko viciouuk nalkruska ukhe'uk shal heaav: she's so vicious when she's in heat -Fold lav-li shal gism agh ukhe'll calm poshat: fold her in half and she'll calm down

Spanish translations: -ninos: kids -que paso?: what's wrong? -Ve con tu hermano: go with your brother -cuñada: sister-in-law (okay i think i got this one wrong??? i know sister in laws call each other it but my husband isn't here as i edit it so if it's wrong please forgive me🙏)