#please forget the small box containing my severed finger and come back for it.

[bondbreaking]

when you accidentally get too tipsy at a work event

[chaoticevilbean]

Voltron Humans are Weird 2/?

Lance tapped his fingers against the ground again and again, eyes boring into the laser wall that kept them trapped in the cell. Two sentries stood outside, stiff and cold. He had been silent from the moment the Galra had captured him and Pidge on their intelligence-gathering mission. The others were sure to come for them, but the Cuban worried about what might happen before then. Pidge was his little sister in all but blood. He didn't know how he'd survive anything happening to her.

Loud, heavy footsteps pounded their way towards the cell, causing Pidge to scoot closer to Lance, her hands clenched and shoulders tight. The older Paladin moved a bit in front of his comrade, just as tense but ready to fight anyone who tried to hurt the younger. A large Galran commander, broad and furred, stopped at their cell, motioning at the sentries to lower the laser wall. They obeyed, and the commander walked towards his prisoners, teeth bared in what was either a smile or a snarl.

"So we've finally caught some of the famous Voltron Paladins," he growled out. "And you were foolish enough to bring the Green Lion along. Three little presents for the Emperor. Only," the Galra paused, and his mouth closed as he smirked, "he doesn't care about the condition the Paladins of Voltron are in. Which means I can do whatever is necessary to obtain the possible information you have."

"I knew the Galra were stupid, but I didn't know you were dumb enough to think that we'd give you intel."

"Silence, Voltron scum. With the right methods, you'll give me anything I want." Lance grimaced, but quickly turned it into a smirk. The Paladins had learned rather quickly that it is much harder for aliens to lie or hide their emotions, so even amateur acting among humans would be considered highly skilled for other races. It worked to Voltron's advantage that Terrans were underestimated by aliens, leaving them to believe that such skills like lying were beyond the humans' level. Even the Alteans had yet to figure out that the Paladins could lie with ease.

"We're trained in the art of torture, both in inflicting pain upon our enemies in ways that leave them begging for mercy, and in withstanding that which is inflicted upon us. We have watched each other suffer and learned to defy our natural protective instincts. Unless you have something new to give us, which I highly doubt, there is no way you will succeed in getting information." Pidge side-eyed her companion, but was quick to catch on and smirk as well, as though completely confident in her abilities to resist torture.

"Then I guess we'll give you something new, Blue Paladin," the commander sneered, signaling the sentries to grab Lance. As he was dragged out, the Cuban's only thoughts were of how it was him and not his little sister. The Green Paladin looked on with a stoic face, set in the act that had only just begun, but horror was in her eyes.

Lance was taken to a new room and stuck in a chair. He was flanked by two sentries and four Galran soldiers lined the walls. The door closed with a slam, and the Blue Paladin knew he had no chance of fighting his way out. Though he followed Pidge's lead in retaining an expression of indifference, his heart clenched at the thought that whatever torture they had in mind didn't require restraints. It was a scarier notion than if he had been completely subdued.

The commander moved into Lance's view, his sneer still present. He beckoned a soldier forward, a large box in their hands. It was placed on the table, a dull thunk echoing in the room. The soldier scurried backwards as the contents of the container were unloaded. Several beakers, a few sealed cartons, and a plate of what seemed to be mint leaves. Lance attempted to maintain his straight face, keeping himself as still as possible as he studied the probable poisons. It made sense now. He had no chance of fighting his way out, and poison didn't require restraints. All it required was getting it into the desired person's system.

"Well, Paladin, I do hope that you've prepared for your inevitable demise. Maybe you'll manage to squeeze out a surrender as you burn from the inside." As he spoke, the hulking Galra opened one of the cartons, carefully using a scoop to measure out some bright red powder. He seemed extremely cautious of the substance, and Lance tensed in anticipation. The scoop was brought towards his face, and the sentries on either side of him held their guns aimed at his head. His only chance of living was ingesting whatever was given to him.

The commander grasped Lance's jaw, forcing the human's mouth open and dumping the powder in. The boy's eyes widened as he tasted the poison. It... was... spicy. All of the Galra in the room were staring at their prisoner, the underlings peering nervously at him as though he were about to collapse.

But Lance's mind was elsewhere. The poison was spicy, not a whole lot, but maybe like a jalepeno, and only for a moment before it started to fade. He had swallowed immediately, and the burn felt no worse than his mother's mild chili, made for the young ones and their low tolerances. Many of the foods in space were bland, practically tasteless. Even if this poison was deadly, Lance wanted more. He missed spicy foods, missed the burn and the numbness that came with them. He was the kind of person that had tried ghost peppers and Carolina Reapers for fun.

"Is the pain so much that you can't speak, oh great Paladin," his captor asked with venom and victory in his voice. "Do you think you were prepared enough for this?"

"What is this," Lance suddenly questioned, turning to face the Galra head-on with curiosity dominating his expression. The being was surprised, but nonetheless answered.

"A deadly poison that burns through all it touches, C18H27NO3. We learned the human word from the Champion when he was given a small portion of it, to test his strength. Your species calls it capsaicin."

"Capsaicin?" The commander nodded, his smirk back in place, though it disappeared with the next words. "I love this stuff! When my team comes to save us, can we have your supply?"

"For what?" one of the soldiers spoke up fearfully, their eyes trained on the Terran.

"For food! We use capsaicin to season our food! It's delicious!"

"It burns!"

"I know! It's sooo good!" The commander slammed his fist onto the table, growling. He closed the carton and moved it aside, pulling one of the beakers over instead.

"Perhaps this will be better suited for our motives!" His voice raised as he shoved the glass container over to Lance. The boy was less nervous about this, instead grasping the beaker and promptly downing the entire dark liquid. If the powder was capsaicin, then chances are the other 'poisons' were actually not toxic to him. Hunk had once mentioned that many foods humans consumed were considered highly poisonous. The liquid was black tea, served cold.

"So why is black tea considered poisonous? Lemme guess, the caffeine?" The Paladin leaned back in his chair, arms rising to go behind his head. He was greatly amused by the faces of the Galra in the room, and decided that he would take this to the next level. Their own plan reversed and used against them.

The Cuban leaned back forward, bent over the table as he grabbed another beaker. It was fizzing, so he assumed carbonated soda. It was indeed Diet Coke, or something similar.

"Man, these poisons are failing at their jobs. The first is in many dishes back home, the second is used to keep people awake, and this one is soda. We drink it as a common beverage or a treat." He snatched a carton next, pulling out a piece of pineapple. "Mmm, bromelain. The snack that eats you back." He popped the fruit into his mouth, then a few more, chewing with vigor at the delicious taste. Oh how he had missed Earth foods.

He proceeded to wash down the snack with some of the next beaker, though he stopped halfway through chugging it when he realized what it was.

"Shiro will kill me if I get drunk, and I'm not risking it to prove a point. Ethanol may be a fun recreational drink, but not for kids." The Galra seemed more alarmed at that (though Lance would only later learn it was a combination of him referring to himself as a kid and calling ethanol a fun recreational drink), but Lance was already grabbing the container of clear liquid.

"Seriously? You guys think water is poisonous?"

"THAT IS DIHYDROGEN MONOXIDE AND YOU SHOULD BE DEAD TEN TIMES OVER!" the commander screamed in the Terran's face. Said Terran sighed.

"Bud, humans need dihydrogen monoxide, or water as we call it, in order to survive. Our planet is literally 70% of this stuff. It rains this stuff. We sweat this stuff. I told you that there weren't any methods that could get me to talk. Now pass over those mint leaves and whatever else you think should kill me. I want to save it for Hunk so we can have some food that actually has flavor for once."

The alarms blared before any of the soldiers or higher-up could respond. All personnel rushed from the room, desperate to leave the human behind. Lance was perfectly happy to wait. Chances are they would forget about Pidge due to his terror tactics, and that meant that the sentries would-

Yep, there they were, powering down. The others must've been spotted on the cameras while getting the female Paladin out. Lance got to his feet, whistling a merry tune. He put all the containers and the plate back into the box, closing the lid. With a small heave, he began his way out, carrying his cargo towards where the Lions were most likely to be held.

About five minutes into his rather casual escape, Keith and Pidge came barreling around a corner. The smaller one let out a sigh of relief, pleased to see her brother-in-arms unharmed. Both showed confusion at the box, but neither questioned it, reserving that for later when they weren't on an enemy ship. Instead, they each grabbed a side of the Blue Paladin and his cargo, and took off once more for the exit route.

It took them an hour to get back to the Castle, between lugging the box back to the Green Lion, taking care of any soldiers between them and their escape, and getting rid of the cruisers. Lance immediately disembarked the robotic feline and headed for the kitchen, box in his arms. The other Paladins followed after, curious as to what was so important their comrade risked his freedom to obtain it. Pidge and Keith also wanted to get the story of how Lance wasn't locked up or injured in any way when they found him.

In the kitchen, the Blue Paladin of Voltron began unloading the contents of his prize, and Pidge immediately whipped out a scanner. Her face lit up at the sight of her screen, recognizing what the information was saying about the 'poisons'.

"No. Way," she whispered, looking up at Lance with the biggest smile ever. "No. Quiznacking. WAY! OH MY GLOB, YOU FOUND EARTH FOOD!"

"That's Earth food?" Hunk picked up.

"Quiznack yeah! No more tasteless goop!"

"You risked not escaping to get food?"

"Shiro," Lance called, silencing the chaos that was rising. "I told them that we Paladins are trained in the art of torture and can withstand both our own pain and watching each other in pain. Told them that there wasn't anything they had that could hurt us enough to break our wills." Shiro blanched for a moment before he realized what that meant. The Galra would always take whatever the Paladins said as truth. "That commander that tried to torture me thought he had some great way to break me... Poison."

"They thought these were poisons?" Keith asked incredulously. Lance nodded.

"Not only did it let me know that they don't know anything about humans who train against torture, but also nothing about human biology. I mean, even if all of this was actually toxic to us, a lot of people that learn to resist torture build up immunities to poison as well. They know nothing about us. And guess what, Hunk?"

"Hmm?" Hunk's eyes caught the mischievous glint in his bro's eyes. This was gonna be good.

"The first thing they gave me... a scoop of capsaicin."

"No way." Matching grins spread on the duo's faces. At the Garrison, in their first three months there, Lance would eat jalepenos with every meal thanks to the large variety of food the cafeteria provided. A benefit of going to a prestigious school that felt a little bad about how hard it pushed its students. He kept eating the peppers at every meal and as snacks for his entire school experience, but in those first three months, the other students couldn't seem to believe it. Some thought he was exaggerating his tolerance of spiciness, and some wanted to see how much he could handle. Soon enough, there were kids buying the spiciest foods and peppers they could, then going up to Lance at meals or between classes to bet against him eating it. Every single time, Lance would accept the bet, devour the food, and pull the money from his stunned peers' fingers. Several occasions, he was late to Iverson's class and was seen towing whatever frozen kid had bet that time behind him. Iverson hated it when that happened, mostly because every other student vouched that it wasn't Lance's fault and that he was probably suffering an awful burning sensation at that very moment. He wasn't.

By the end of those three months, he had gained over $3,000 from the bets, and the faculty couldn't do anything. He split the money with Hunk, especially when his roommate used that money to buy spices for food he would always share with the Cuban. Throughout the rest of the school year, whenever someone new transferred in, the other students convinced them to do a bet as well, if only so they could watch someone else suffer as they had suffered. It continued the next year as a tradition, with former peers tricking both younger and older kids to bet, and some bringing in items they had saved just for that occasion. Pidge was never tricked into betting, due to her insistence on being alone, and neither was Keith, because he was an extreme loner that no one could seem to befriend.

Hunk and Lance therefore both knew that there was no way aliens, who couldn't handle capsaicin, who had practically tasteless food because of their intolerances, could somehow give Lance something spicy enough to hurt him in any way.

"Someone want to clue us in?" Pidge asked, eyeing the rest of the Garrison Trio.

"Did you ever hear about the Spice King?" Hunk shot back, as way of a response.

"I did," Keith interjected. "I never met them, but I heard that it was someone who could eat anything from bell peppers to Carolina Reapers and still make it to class on time."

"Oh, I think I did, too," Pidge exclaimed. "I heard in passing, but I was so obsessed back then that I never found out anything more than they existed."

"Well, the Spice King was a kid in our year," Hunk started. "He was this dude who could indeed eat anything spicy. The only reason he was ever late to class was because he made sure that whoever gave him the food got there as well. They almost always froze up because he would just accept what they gave and eat it on the spot. Kids in our year bet against him every day, multiple times on some. The dude earned a few thousand because they wouldn't stop. Usually, students would convince others to bet against him just because they wanted it to be done by everyone. Happened every year as well."

"Adam told me about that kid. Apparently, the teachers couldn't do anything to stop the betting. It wasn't gambling because the outcome was always the same and it wasn't like anything was being sold. Do you know who he is?" Shiro had his arms crossed as he stared curiously at the Yellow Paladin, who was now beaming in excitement.

"It was Lance."

Silence.

"The Galra tried to feed me, the Spice King, a spoonful of spice to make me give them information. Apparently, it was supposed to burn really badly. It wasn't even that bad. Barely jalepeno level. And then the commander went for some really dark liquid, and at that point, I was like 'if they think capsaicin is poison, what else do they got that is poison to them, but not to me' and so I just took the beaker from them and downed it. It turned out to be black tea, and I just gave up on the whole pretending to be a prisoner because they thought I was gonna die from caffeine. Caffeine. If I remember correctly, I had soda, water, pineapple, and a bit of alcohol, but- but," Lance held up a hand to stop Shiro's lecture, "I only chugged it because I didn't know what it was and I stopped the moment that I realized it was ethanol. Although, to be honest, it was really watered down. Well, not watered down, because water is supposedly toxic, but it was real weak. Like, a preteen could probably drink that entire beaker and it wouldn't do anything. It's right... here." He pushed the glass container towards Shiro, knowing that the man would want the alcohol away from children and near his own mouth. The dude was a tired dad in every sense. "Anyways, they got really terrified, especially when I kept making remarks about Terran uses for each 'poison', so all the Galra rushed out the moment the alarm went off, and then Pidge shut the sentries down so I just packed up the box and brought it along. I thought we'd all enjoy some flavor in our food. I also wanted- no, I needed the spice. Spice is life."

Shiro sighed, and picked up the beaker of ethanol, plainly about to down the entire thing. He was prevented from doing so - and the others were prevented from asking their burning questions - by a high-pitched, very terrified voice.

"PUT THAT DOWN, NUMBER ONE! IT'S HIGHLY TOXIC!"

"WHY IS THERE A BOX OF POISONS ON THE TABLE? GET THEM PUT AWAY, QUICKLY!"

"NUMBER THREE, STEP AWAY FROM THEM, YOU'LL BE DEAD IN TICKS IF THOSE TOUCH YOU!"

"Woah, woah, guys, it's okay," Shiro attempted to calm the Alteans.

"IT IS VERY MUCH NOT OKAY! WHY DID YOU EVEN BRING THOSE ABOARD?"

"PUT THE BEAKER DOWN, NUMBER ONE! WE NEED YOU ALIVE! THINK OF YOUR CHILDREN!"

"QUIET!" the Black Paladin snapped, patience running out like a little kid runs out of Halloween candy. The aliens fell silent, staring in shock at the leader of Voltron. Said man held out the glass, tipped it slightly in a cheers that showed the liquid quite clearly, then swiftly pulled it to his lips and drank the entire thing in one go. Allura and Coran both gasped in terror, eyes comically wide as they could only gape at the human. Shiro finished the drink off with a satisfied exhale, his own eyes closing for a moment as he simply took in the moment.

"Well, you were right about it being weak. I don't think an entire barrel of that stuff could make me so much as dizzy. And princess, Coran, this stuff isn't poisonous. At least, the- uh... Lance, what's the stuff that's in what you had?"

"Bromelain, caffeine, capsaicin, dihydrogen monoxide, ethanol, and carbonation."

"Those aren't poisonous to humans. They're actually considered common foods and drinks on Earth. Once Pidge finishes scanning it all, Hunk'll probably include it in our meals. No offense to either of you, but your food is awful. It's so bland that I once licked a rock I found on a planet just because it was salty and took away from the horrible taste that goo left in my mouth."

"Oh, I remember that," Keith put in. "That's why we got those salt-licks from the Earth store at our last mall trip."

"You- how are you not dead?" Allura finally blurted out, face tinging blue.

"Ethanol, or alcohol as we humans call it, is a large part of human culture. It used to be safer to consume products with ethanol than it was to consume just water, so people gained higher tolerances to it. It still affects us, and we can still die, but if it's taken in moderation and you wait until your body is fully matured, the effects are extremely minimal. Even now that most people have access to clean water, alcohol consumption is a common recreational activity. That said, Lance, you better drink lots of water. However weak that stuff was, I don't want to risk anything." Lance nodded as Coran spoke up.

"You consume ethanol, a known poison, which is still considered toxic to humans, for fun?" A nod answered. "What about the C18H27NO3? And the C39H66N2O29? C8H10N4O2? H2O?"

"Translation?"

"Capsaicin, bromelain, caffeine, and water."

"Oh, well, capsaicin is a poison found in peppers and I think a few other plants. Humans use it as a seasoning, and depending on where each person is from and how they grew up, tolerance levels vary. For example, Lance can eat a pepper that burns your hands severely. His tolerance is really high, probably one of the highest I've heard of. He was famous at the Garrison for it. On the other hand, I can barely handle a jalapeno, which is a pretty mild in comparison. Scratch that, it is very mild when compared to a Carolina Reaper."

"Bromelain is known to be toxic as well. But for us humans, it usually only causes a tingling or itching in the mouth, occasionally mild reactions in our stomachs as well. Our saliva and stomach acids digest the bromelain before it digests us, and so many people enjoy consuming pineapple, which contains bromelain, as a snack. There's even this big, extremely long dispute about whether pineapple should be put on pizza or not. Personally, we all had that discussion, and have agreed to each their own."

"Caffeine is commonly found in coffee and some teas, and in many sodas, which are all beverages. Chocolate is a treat that also can contain caffeine, and it's eaten by basically everyone who isn't allergic. Caffeine has been known to have adverse effects on people, but it's much like ethanol: consume in moderation and it won't do as much harm. It's actually used to help people focus and become more aware of their surroundings. What I wouldn't give for a cup of coffee."

"Black?"

"Common misconception. I actually enjoy mochas."

"Nice, but have you tried a con panna?"

"I was going to but my plan was derailed by a certain Empire of purple aliens."

"We have to get coffee at the Earth store. Or maybe a poison store. I mean, if caffeine is poison, the odds are good it'll be there. Then, Kaltenecker and I are making you the best con panna ever." Allura cleared her throat to gain Shiro's attention once more.

"What about dihydrogen monoxide? How is that considered nontoxic?" All five humans exchanged amused looks, chuckles slipping out at the chaos they were about to unleash.

"Princess, dihydrogen monoxide covers 71% of our planet. Most weather revolves around it and humans are actually made up of 60% water, with our brains being about three-quarters of water. We need to consume dihydrogen monoxide to live. I think the only reason we didn't die from dehydration is because the Castle started producing water for us. Really glad, too. Dehydration is an awful way to go."

"Your water is dihydrogen monoxide?"

"What's your water?"

"We Alteans did not have water. It's only translated because of other races and their need for liquids. Coran and I gain most of our fluids from goo and hydration pouches."

"Okay, so what does dihydrogen monoxide do to most species?"

"Number One... think instant death."

"Can we put this aside for now?" Hunk called out. He was holding the spice in his hands, running his fingers like it was solid gold.

"What're planning on making?" And just like that, the Alteans and their dismay were left behind to discuss something else. Allura and Coran exchanged looks and swiftly left once again to the control room, pulling up their new log.

Humans are extremely resistant to toxins. Many chemicals in Terran foods and drinks are highly poisonous to most other races. A list of known poisons in Terran victuals is included below. Some of these are actually harmful to humans, yet they will still be consumed. Once again, a list is included of these chemicals. Important chemicals to remember for the care of humans are caffeine and ethanol. Caffeine can be used to bring a human into a more alert and focused state. Effectiveness is yet to be discovered, and the chemical should be given in extreme moderation until more data is collected. Ethanol is known to be harmful to Terrans, but is still used as a recreational drink. Sparingly give to humans, and only when they are stressed or somber. It is a rule that only fully matured humans are allowed to consume this beverage, given the harmful effects.

Dihydrogen monoxide covers a little under 3/4 of Earth's surface, and is necessary for the survival of humans. Under no circumstances is it to be kept away from a Terran who requests the substance. Terran weather usually includes dihydrogen monoxide, so caution is advised when visiting Earth. Until further information is gathered, avoiding visiting the planet at all would be prudent. Be warned that humans are 60% dihydrogen monoxide, so touching a human's skin or fluids would be very dangerous and should be prevented at all costs, especially if a being is unprotected and/or particularly susceptible to the substance. Humans will likely not realize they are covered in poison, so it is best if they are reminded each time they meet with a being from another race, until they remember on their own.

Data is still being collected about this species. Approach with caution.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s Return Home Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

The date begins in a conference room, where a meeting has been going on for almost three hours

When LFG invested in an online video platform called SE, LFG held a press release stating that it was a strategic move for the international film and TV market

However, just within two years, SE found itself racking up billions of dollars in debt due to its poor project management

As such, people in the know have been secretly ridiculing Victor for making an error of judgement

Fortunately, LFG’s connections with the media prevented this information from leaking out

But it doesn’t change the fact that LFG messed up this time

Victor hasn’t slept in two days - he’s been poring through documents, project materials, and would sometimes sit in the conference room alone for several hours, forgetting to eat :

When Victor returns to the hotel, there are over a hundred unread notifications on his phone. 

He doesn’t pay attention to such information, but taps on the only pinned message amid the countless lists of prompts.

Unsurprisingly, it’s filled with insignificant idle talk, coupled with several different emoticons.

Victor loosens his tie slightly, reading through the messages from top to bottom. 

“I made an improved version of omurice. Want to try it?”

“What is Goldman talking about in his Moments - something about being angry and tired. Is the meeting not going smoothly?”

“Remember to eat...”

“And remember to sleep!”

Victor’s finger pauses at this line, and there’s a gentle emotion flowing in his eyes.

“The internet celebrity lawyer you mentioned the other time agreed to my invitation for an interview, so I’ll be rushing out the proposal this Saturday. Want to be a supervisor?”

Victor opens the dialog box. Once he sends an “ok”, the other party immediately responds with an emoticon of a winking cat. 

Thinking of the time right now, he arches his brows slightly. 

-

Nestled in my quilt, I’m just about to embark on a long speech regarding the weekend’s schedule, but the phone in my hand suddenly vibrates, surprising me. 

Victor: Did you not sleep, or did you wake up?

MC: Haha...

Victor: What are you laughing at? 

MC: It feels like that is something I often ask you. Why is it now your turn to ask me?

Victor: It’s only 5am now. 

MC: I didn’t get a reply from you, so I couldn’t sleep...

I turn over, changing to a more comfortable position against the corner of the quilt. I press the phone tightly to my ear. 

MC: What project are you busy with this time? Is it going smoothly? 

Victor: Smoothly. It’s still early, you can sleep for a while longer.

MC: ...I can’t really sleep now. Are you still coming back on Thursday as you said last time? 

Victor: Before Saturday. 

MC: It’s only Tuesday today... and the sun hasn’t come out yet. 

I hear Victor laugh, his low tone mixed with some tiredness.

Victor: You find it too late? 

MC: I wouldn’t dare to. If it weren’t something important, you wouldn’t delay returning. However... even if it’s because of work, you did go back on your word, so you have to promise me one thing. 

A deep and slow sigh enters my ear, revealing a faint sense of fatigue.

Victor: You can say it. 

MC: You have to eat, and you have to sleep.

The other end of the phone call grows silent for a few seconds. 

Victor: Mm, I promise you.

The misty morning light is on the curtains. In the midst of my quiet grogginess, I close my eyes, wanting to feel the frequency of his breaths. 

MC: ...it has been raining continuously in Paris these two days. 

Victor: It’s like that during this season. 

MC: Is... is it very cold...

Victor: No, it isn’t. 

My consciousness grows increasingly darker, but I can still clearly capture his voice in my bizarre dream world. 

Victor: [in the gentlest of gentle voices] Sleep if you’re tired. I’m hanging up. 

MC: N-not tired... don’t hang up...

Victor: You can’t even speak clearly, and you’re still unwilling to sleep?

MC: ...

I just need five more seconds to be clear-headed--

I let out a sound of agreement, unsure if I managed to say this aloud.

Very soon, only Victor’s long and steady breaths at my ear remain in my world. It’s very, very close. It’s a closeness that gives one a peace of mind. 

Victor: Are you asleep?

MC: ...

Victor: Sleep then.

Victor: ...

Victor: Sleep peacefully. 

-

On Saturday afternoon, I lift my head towards the wall clock for the nth time. When the needle points to the number ‘3′, I can no longer help myself, and give Victor a call. 

After the dial tone, the notification that the other party is unable to answer the call sounds. Before I can react, the doorbell rings. 

Victor is standing at the door and just about to put his phone back into his pocket. In a daze, I look towards at his empty hands. 

MC: Your luggage...

Victor: Goldman took them back. I still have to return to LFG tonight. 

As he speaks, he enters and changes his shoes in the hallway. After that, he walks straight into my bedroom.

Victor: What have you been doing these two days? 

He walks to the coffee table, picking up the messy outline I was working on for an interview. He takes a glance and then lifts the corners of his lips. 

Victor: You said you were working seriously for several days, but you just did a few outlines? 

MC: Don’t underestimate me! I’ve looked through quite a number of materials. Look!

I point at the stack of trending societal topics and legal-related books on the floor. 

MC: Preparatory work speeds up the actual process. Also, didn’t I recognise my inadequacies and ask you to be a supervisor? 

I hurriedly drag a chair to the coffee table and place a headrest on the back of it. 

MC: Please sit. I guarantee that from this second onwards, I’ll concentrate on the proposal. Before the sun sets, I’ll definitely have the first edition out. 

Victor can’t help but laugh. He hangs his coat on the clothes rack in the corner, then pulls the chair over to himself. After sitting down, he seems to recall something and lets out a faint sigh. 

Victor: Lend me your laptop for a while.

I hand him my notebook computer, and a thought flashes across my mind -- how could he not have brought a laptop out?

MC: Victor, when did you get infected by my scatterbrained habits? 

Victor: Only this time. I forgot to take it with me after leaving it in the backseat.

Victor avoids my teasing gaze. With his expression unchanged, he starts approving documents on the LFG intranet. 

Victor: The sun is setting in two hours. 

MC: Who knows - maybe the sun wouldn’t feel like going home today. 

I return to my seat, resting my chin on my palm while looking towards Victor. 

The light golden sunlight streams in from the window, slowly enveloping Victor. The quiet, warm rays of light are coupled with a calming woody scent, and are very pleasant. 

Victor doesn’t speak. His fingers tap against the desk from time to time. In this quiet room, the sound of our breathing is amplified.

After an inordinate amount of time, he finally lifts his eyes and meets mine.

Victor: Staring at me can help you finish your proposal?

MC: I’m not staring at you. I’m silently conceptualising ideas.

After my words are out, a short “ding” sounds.

MC: Wait for a moment~ 

In a flash, I rush to the kitchen and retrieve the aromatic cookies from the oven. After carefully placing them on a cooling rack, I bring it back to the room along with two cups of warm drinks. 

MC: Afternoon tea time!

Victor casts a glance at the cups and arches his brows slightly. Steam floats from the hot cup of milk, and strands of warmth merge with the sweetness in the house.

MC: Your dark circles are so deep, so don’t drink coffee, all right?  

Victor: I’m fine. 

I thought Victor meant that he wouldn’t drink this, but he holds up the cup after speaking. 

Once I sit down, I push the plate filled with cookies towards him. 

MC: Look at my new mold - isn’t it cute?

I point at the cookies, which are shaped like cats with different expressions on them. 

MC: This one is yawning, this one is full of grievances, this one has already fallen asleep, but I like this one the most. It keeps having an angry face. I called it “Qi Gu Gu”.

[Note: Names don’t translate well into English, so I left it as it is. The original name is 气鼓鼓, which means “seething”]

Victor’s eyes sweep towards my fingers. 

Victor: Looks like you. 

MC: Is that so?

I puff my cheeks, mimicking the cat on the cookie and squinting my eyes to look at Victor. 

As predicted, Victor ignores me. There is a measure of speechlessness in his eyes.

I laugh and bring “Qi Gu Gu” to his lips. 

MC: Give it a try? 

Victor takes a bite straight from my hand, then returns his gaze to the laptop. 

MC: Aren’t you going to evaluate it? 

He purses his lips slightly, and I can’t tell if he’s smiling or not. He leans forward a little, then finishes the remaining half of “Qi Gu Gu” in my hand. 

His warm lips brush against my fingertips, leaving behind a soft, lingering warmth. A fluffy, light, and sweet sense of happiness stirs up slowly in my heart. 

Contented, I sweep the crumbs off my hands and take up my pen again. 

Soon after, MC’s mind starts wandering to how fine the weather is

And how fine her man is 👀

He doesn’t show much emotion while working, and his expression looks as calm as always. But the deep look of concentration between his eyebrows is a little different from usual.

As for what exactly is different...

It’s probably how one just can’t look away.

Victor: It’s only been a few minutes. How many times have you lost focus? 

I hurriedly retract my gaze, pretending to be scribbling on the paper like an “obedient” student who got caught doing something improper by a teacher.

But my ideas have not been completely formulated, and I can’t think of anything to write. The only thing I can do is draw a small heart at the top right-hand corner of the paper. 

Sensing Victor’s lingering gaze on me, I continue scribbling until it becomes a solid heart, then attach a tilde at the end.

After pausing for a moment, I let out a soft sigh and lift my head slightly. 

Victor: Why are you sighing.

MC: ...I can’t help it.

Victor: Can’t help what? 

MC: Can’t help looking at you. 

I cross my arms together, changing to a more comfortable position and plopping onto the table. I tilt my head towards Victor. 

He lets out a barely audible laugh. Just as he’s about to speak, a familiar ringtone sounds from his pocket. 

Watching Victor pick up the call, my messy thoughts instantly vanish, and I feel slightly downcast.

Victor: The time now is...

While speaking, Victor looks at the bottom right corner of the laptop. After a slight pause, he looks at the phone. 

Victor: 4.30pm. Have them give me a reply by 8pm. 

His words are concise. After he hangs up, I ask him a little hesitantly. 

MC: Do you... have to go back to LFG now? 

Victor: I'm not leaving. 

While saying this, he sets his phone on silent mode and places it at the corner of the table. Meeting my hesitant gaze, there’s a sense of resignation in his calm eyes.

Victor: Your laptop is set to Paris’ timezone. 

I fail to understand the implication behind his words, so I just nod subconsciously. 

MC: Mm, it’s easier to tell the time like that. 

Victor doesn’t speak. He sweeps another glance at the laptop. At this moment, the system sends a report of the weather forecast in Paris over the next five days - there will be continuous rain every day.

He smiles faintly, then closes the laptop slowly.

Victor: ...you’re really becoming more and more dumb.

MC: ...yes yes yes, taking care of a dummy like me is really a bother for Mr CEO. 

I deliberately pout, but can’t help but smile along with Victor. I stand up and retrieve our two empty cups.

MC: I'll go wash the cups. Is there anything you want to eat?

Victor: No need. Are you treating me as you? 

I let out an indignant “hmph”, then turn around and head to the kitchen. 

I originally thought it would only take a few minutes to wash the two cups. But by the time I cleaned and tidied up the tools I used for baking earlier, half an hour has passed. 

When I return to the room, Victor is lying on the bed, my incomplete outline in his hand.

I soften my footsteps and walk over, leaning close to his ear and whispering:

MC: Victor, are you asleep? 

Victor doesn’t respond, but has a shallow intake of breath, his eyelashes quivering gently under the twilight. 

MC: Are you really sleeping or just pretending to sleep? 

Very lightly, I climb onto the bed, inching towards him.

MC: Victor? 

I call his name again softly, but he still does not respond. But the corners of his lips curl up slowly, revealing a smile.  

MC: You aren’t asleep, are you.

I lean one hand on the bed, and use my other hand to lift up a few strands of his hair. 

Looking at his smooth and sharp jawline, my fingertips unconsciously rub the tips of his hair. 

MC: ...have you been very tired recently?

Victor: No.

His words carry with them a certain sleepiness - perhaps he hasn’t had rest in a few days, so he gets drowsy once he relaxes just a little. 

MC: Didn’t you already look at my interview outline? Why are you looking at it again? 

Victor: To see what exactly you were scribbling. 

I think about that heart with its little tail, and am left speechless, as though I got caught having a bad idea. 

Victor: You specially got me here to supervise you, but you only wrote these few sentences the whole afternoon? 

MC: Yeah. Next time, I won’t ask you to be a supervisor! When you’re in front of me, my work efficiency takes a nose-dive. 

I reach out to take my notebook from his hand, then cover him with a blanket. Victor turns his head, his half-closed eyes meeting mine. 

It’s very rare for me to see such a burnt-out look in his eyes. Right now, I can only feel the emotions in my heart towards this person becoming a hundred times more tender. 

MC: Sleep for a while before going to LFG? I’ll wake you up at 7.30pm.

With the rigour of Victor’s schedule, several important meetings were cancelled at short notice so he could fly to Paris. After that, his return was delayed twice.

We already agreed that he’d return before Saturday, but it suddenly changed to Saturday itself...

This wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t an extremely troublesome matter. 

...and he still stubbornly said that he wasn’t tired.

I place my forefingers on his temples, making slow circles. After a while, a soft laugh drifts from his lips. 

Victor: [releases a sigh which sounds like a moan lol]...

Victor takes my right hand and encloses it in his palm, wordlessly pulling me closer to him. 

With this distance, every one of his breaths mingle with mine. I can’t help but bend down, pressing the corner of my lips to his fringe.

In the quiet darkness, I hear the frequency of our heartbeats and breathing mingling and becoming more and more synchronised.

Victor: ...there’s no need to worry about me. I haven’t reached the point where a dummy has to worry about me.

MC: Mm, I got it. 

I respond softly, but can’t hide the touch of peace in my smile. 

MC: ...I just can’t help it.

Can’t help but worry if you’re hungry or not, whether you're cold or not, whether you’re tired or not. 

Can’t help but want to see you, whether you’re in front of me or not.

Can’t help but reveal the smile in my brows and lips just because you surface in my mind. 

I look out the window - the clouds spread across the dim twilight and the stars are looming. The golden sunset and the quietness of the night meet at the end of the sky. 

The sun is about to set.

MC: Victor, I didn’t finish the interview outline before the sun set. Are you going to punish me? 

Victor: ...

The only response I get is the sound of his steady and peaceful breathing. 

I lower my head and look at his sleeping face. This familiar side profile has gotten slightly thinner over the span of just a few days. I reach out, stroking his cheek in mid-air.

Afraid to disturb him, I silently watch him.

MC: Sleep then.

MC: ...

MC: Sleep peacefully. 

[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 4

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 4

-----

The next day, Marinette woke up in her bed, still dressed. By the time her father brought her into her room, she was already asleep. The emotions finally caught up with her somewhere along the way. Remembering the end of the evening, her eyes immediately latched onto her finger, but the ring was not there. A mere second before a panic attack, she looked at the bedside table, where both the box and the ring rested. She let out a breath. She didn’t lose it. 

“Morning cupcake,” a voice startled her. “Are you okay?” Her father was looking through the repealed doors. 

“Yeah… Did yesterday really happen?”

“We are still at Wayne Manor and I seem to remember to have put the ring on the night table.” 

“I can’t believe he actually proposed!” Marinette jumped off the bed and started to pace around with a dreamy look on her face. “I mean I know we are married, but it was still so romantic! And in front of so many people! Oh, Papa! I’m so happy!” She fell back onto her bed. 

“I’m glad you’re happy, cupcake. Remember that your Maman and I will always be here for you.” His smile took a sadder shade. “I know you’re almost a grown-up with a job and all, but to us you will always be the same little girl that I used to fit in the palm of my hand.” 

“Don’t worry Papa. I won’t forget you and Maman.”

“Good. Now let’s go open the presents! Race you!” He ran out of her room and toward the big tree in the hall. Mari giggled at her father’s antics before following him; the ring shining on her finger. 

In the back, Tikki floated with a big smile on her face. Her chosen finally had a chance for some happiness. If only that ruddy alley cat did not run away with the miraculous. She could still feel Nooroo and Duusu active. She could wait one more day before telling Marinette though. The girl deserved a peaceful Christmas.

---------

By the time Marinette arrived by the tree, most of the people were already gathered. Dick was seated in a large armchair next to a pile of gifts. He was dressed in a full Santa Claus outfit, complete with a fake beard. The only reason she recognized him was because of his voice.

“Now that everyone’s here, who wants…” He started, but someone interrupted. 

“Before that, I need to apologize.” Johnathan Kent turned toward Marinette. “Yesterday, after you left, I made some unsavory accusations about you, for which I want to deeply apologize.” Just for a second, his eyes jumped toward Sabine. The girl noted that her mother was glaring at the older man. “I’m a simple man and this… secret world you all live in is strange for me. Please, accept my sincere apology.” 

“Oh… No problem Mr. Kent. To be honest I’m still getting used to it all myself.” She smiled at him. Marinette was not that oblivious not to guess what kind of accusations the older man had made. 

“With that out of the way, I think we can get started. Maybe let’s begin with the youngest?” Dick said, trying to imitate how the real Santa Claus would sound. Marinette would admit that he was close.

“Me! Me!” Mar’i started floating in the air until Jon pulled her gently to the ground. He really got into the ‘older brother’ role. 

“Yes, you, sweetheart.” 

Mar’i received several gifts from the pile. Marinette was surprised to see one from her family. Inside were several baked goods from their bakery. She didn’t remember her parents packing any, but maybe they made them here.

“Me next!” Jon was giddy. His pile of gifts was slightly smaller, but there was a box of sweets there too. 

After that, it was Marinette’s turn. She received probably even more than Mar’i. There were also gifts from her Nona, grandfather, uncle Wang, one without a name tag that she was pretty sure came from aunt Sandra, a giant box from Chloe, and a small one that she had no idea who sent her. It was wrapped with a paper with black cats that would look better somewhere around Halloween, but she was too distracted to question it. Damian was busy arguing with Jon about whether he would get the Kryptonite knuckle dusters or not. 

She started with the largest box that Chloé sent her. Inside, there was a giant chest filled to the brim with detective novels and a letter that she chose to read when she was alone. Next was the gift from her uncle, which turned out to be an intricately decorated stone bowl for mixing ingredients. 

Her grandfather got her a beautiful rolling pin made half from cherry wood and half from solidified resin. The resin was in dark green color that reminded her of Damian’s eyes. But Roland had no idea about that, did he…?

Many gifts were some nice fabrics, a gift card to Gabriel, which she was tempted to burn as soon as she got it, but out of politeness just put it back into the box for now. Finally, the gift from aunt Sandra contained a set of beautiful daggers, a Katana, and a hairpin that had a space to pour poison inside. 

Her parents gave her a new rope dart, this time with a sharp end that she could use in combat. The line it was attached to was made from titanium-carbon alloy that would be able to withstand point-pressure of at least two tonnes. The weapon itself was practical instead of good-looking. The blade was thick, looking a bit like a diamond. The edges were sharp and the tip very pointy. The grip of the weapon was wrapped in a red cord for a more comfortable grip. Mari thanked them both before pocketing the weapon into her bag for now. She would probably fashion a better place for it.

Finally, only one box remained. The mysterious cats. Mari was about to open it when Jon noted it and leaped at her. The bow came undone the moment he covered the small box with his body. Everyone waited, watching carefully what was going on.

Nothing happened.

“Tt. Kent? Mind explaining to us why you decided to smash my Angel’s gift?” Damian glared at him.

“Um… I might have accidentally scanned it. You don’t want to see what’s inside. I definitely don’t want to see what’s inside ever again,” he shuddered. 

“Show me,” Sabine demanded. She picked up the squashed box and opened the top before closing it. A small lighter made its way into her hand and before anyone knew better, it was aflame. Seeing people staring at her, she smiled. “Nothing to worry about. It was a terrible prank.” She wrapped the now-charred remains and some vaguely straight shape into the torn paper. 

“What was this Maman?”

“A very distasteful prank.”

Marinette looked at the shape in her mother’s hand and her blood suddenly ran cold. It was shaped like a knife. The knife.

“No… He knows?! He can’t know!” She panicked, but Damian quickly pulled her closer to him, immediately soothing her some. 

“No, Sweetie. That bastard thought he would appease you by offering a painting of a stabbed Ladybug.” Sabine’s expression was heralding God’s wrath.

Jason growled. “He is sick.”

Next to him, Tim muttered so that only Stephanie could hear him. “You gave B. a crowbar on your first Christmas back…” Superman heard it too, judging from his reaction. 

“So what now?”

“Well, I think it’s safe to say we won’t be coming back beyond ‘appearing’ at the airport when your class is scheduled to leave. I still can’t believe how incompetent your teacher must be to force you to travel with them.”

“I know it might sound stupid, but I think you will be safest in Gotham City.” Lois offered. 

Mari nodded sharply before cuddling into Damian. “Don’t worry, Angel. I will protect you.” He reassured her while hugging her close to his heart.

“I can protect myself.” She huffed but didn’t reject his hug. 

“That I don’t doubt.”

“There is a good chance he won’t be able to reach you in Gotham anyway. He is just one kid, which will make crossing the border much harder for him.” Stephanie pointed. 

“He has his daddy’s money. That will probably be enough.”

“Let’s hope not. I will send the warning to the border control that he might be trying to enter the country, but that’s the best I can do.” 

“Meanwhile I will go check if my guns are working…” Jason tried to leave, only for Tim to grab the back of his jacket and pull him back into place.

“There is no point worrying for now. Let’s just enjoy Christmas.” Sabine nodded for everyone to return to gifts. When no one was looking at her, she pulled Jon to the side and placed the knife paper on the stone floor. They didn’t speak, not to start another drama, but the boy understood. A short heat-vision later the knife was no more than a piece of smoking paper and molten steel.

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

A blonde boy walked toward the terminal. He was dressed in a light gray long-sleeved dress shirt underneath a dark gray vest. He also sported a black necktie, dark gray dress pants, and black dress shoes. His hair was combed back, adding to the impeccable look. The green eyes swept over the guards as they observed him closely. He presented the passport.

He noted that it took them longer than it should. His eyes fell on the wanted poster next to the guards. 

“I’m not my idiotic cousin if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Ah… Um…” The guard that was speaking to him was clearly confused. 

“Really? Ugh! That idiot decided to play supervillain and suddenly I have to suffer for it! I am not Adrien Agreste.” He ruffled through his bag, not caring that several guards almost drew their weapons. He finally pulled out a magazine with him and Adrien standing side by side, modeling for Gabriel. When side by side, the difference in their styles was even more pronounced.

“Apologies, mister. You must understand thought…” The man started to back-track.

“Yeah yeah. Spare the prostrating.” He dismissed the guard and walked past the checkpoint. Once he was out of the hearing range, he grinned. “It’s not you that I want to see on the floor…” He whispered omniously. 

-----------

Marinette and Sabine arrived through a portal five minutes from the airport, with ten minutes to spare before class was scheduled to meet. The two did not carry any luggage so they would get past the customs much faster. An upside to having all your things brought through a magical portal the day before. 

The airport was buzzing with activity. Marinette and her mother quickly got past the checkpoint and met with Chloé, who awaited them eagerly. 

“Dupain-Cheng! How was Christmas with the Waynes?” She asked in a hushed voice, so the class didn’t hear her. 

“Well…” Mari grinned before showing the blonde her ring.

“What? Now that’s what I call a good Christmas gift.” 

“How did you like the belt?” Marinette asked. In response, Chloé showed her that she was already wearing it. It was white with some golden glitter around the elegant buckle. There was a barely visible MDC logo etched on the buckle. The designer worked on it for some time before repurposing it as a Christmas gift. She had to cut on the glitter decorations, but in the end, the more minimalistic design appealed to Chloé. 

Sabine watched the two girls talk. A year ago, the woman wouldn’t believe her eyes if Marinette and Chloé acted this friendly. Now though, they were cute. 

“Did you get my gift?” The blonde asked impatiently.

“Um… Yes. The books are great.” 

“What was under the books!” The girl whispered, hoping to avoid Sabine’s watchful eye and ear.

“What?” Marinette looked surprised and Chloé had to resist the urge to facepalm. 

“Honestly Dupain-Cheng! You’re ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!”

And then the mood was broken when the rest of the class found them. 

“Good morning Marinette.” Madame Bustier greeted the girl. “Sabine.” 

The older woman did not return the greeting. “It’s Madame Cheng. We are here in the role of chaperones.” She almost seethes. “Let’s keep at least the illusion of professionalism.”

“Um… right. Moving on kids!” The slightly embarrassed teacher declared. 

“She is just as bad as Maribrat,” Alya muttered to Lila when she thought Sabine couldn’t hear her. The glare she received in response made it clear she made a mistake in her judgment.

After they got to the plane, people started to whisper when Chloé and Marinette didn’t join them in the economy class where they had their tickets. Instead, the two left for the first class. 

“Why aren’t they joining us!?”

“Because Chloé’s father paid for hers and I can afford mine.” Marinette normally would be against such blatant flaunting of wealth, but she couldn’t stop herself from rubbing it a bit into them that she earned the luxury. 

“She probably…” Kim suddenly lost his ability to speak when he was met eye-to-eye with Sabine Cheng. 

“Think carefully about what you want to say next.” 

He could almost see the flames of hell burning brightly behind her. “Um… she probably earned it?”

“Good boy.” 

“While I agree that Marinette earned it,” Caline started speaking and Sabine, Chloé, and the girl in question all had to resist the urge to groan, sensing there was more to that sentence. “I think it would be preferable if the girls joined the class for the duration of the flight. It would serve to strengthen the bonds between kids.” 

“And how exactly do you plan on fitting them when all the places in this place are bought out. Not to mention the price difference. Or maybe you thought money was not a problem?” Sabine asked, her voice dripping in sarcasm. 

Before Caline could answer, Lila decided to open her mouth. “Maybe Madame Bustier and you, madame could switch places with them. We know how hard our teacher worked and a bit of relaxation and comfort would do her good. You too could probably relax a bit from all the hard work in that Bakery.” 

Immediately after that, everyone started to agree and try to convince the chaperones to leave them alone. Sabine was about to protest when Caline spoke up. “Well, I think it would be acceptable, provided the girls agree.” She sent both a glare. 

Sabine’s blood boiled. She wasn’t sure if any normal girl would actually have the strength to stand up to a teacher in that position. Only the fact that Marinette looked completely unbothered stopped her from reacting. 

“Of course they won’t agree! They are too selfish!” Alya shouted. 

Some of the people on the plane started to stare at the group, with many gazes falling on Marinette and Chloé. 

The blonde scoffed, but her best friend grinned. “Sure.” She pulled her ticket and handed her to the teacher. “But we’re blocking the flight, so let’s move.”

Chloé handed hers to Sabine, smiling politely at the woman. “Marinette suspected this would end like that.” She whispered before taking a seat next to Dupain-Cheng. Both girls pulled out old-fashioned dictaphones and started recording what was going on with the class. Then Chloé gave Mari one of her detective novels and they started reading. 

Sabine shook her head. Her little girl had a plan and she would trust her. And after seeing Lila in action, she now had some idea how that liar worked. The way she manipulated people’s opinion reminded her in some ways of the assassin training she underwent. 

-----

The plane was already half-way to Gotham. Sabine did her best to ignore Caliné’s rambling about Marinette, switching between praising her and making her into the heart of all the problems with the class. If she didn’t know better, Sabine would think that the teacher had some sort of mental disorder. Beyond simple stupidity that is. 

Out of the blue, Caliné stopped rambling and Sabine saw her asleep, snoring lightly. 

“A strong sedative. It should give us at least an hour of peace.” A calm voice spoke from behind her. 

“Sandra.” Sabine greeted her sister politely, but without the usual cheerfulness. “Clever of you to choose here of all places to meet me. Don’t think that it will let you escape my wrath. You left that girl on the mercy of a monster.” 

“Cassandra was… I did regret what I did, but I couldn’t risk trying to reclaim her. Not until I was sure she could defend herself.” Sandra said, allowing emotions to enter her voice. Sabine could tell she was genuinely saddened by the situation. 

“You could’ve brought her to me. I would raise her along Marinette without a second thought. And you know that nobody would dare to come after me.” The older turned in her seat to glare at her sister. Two men at her side were both also sleeping, each with a small wound on their neck. They had complete privacy. 

“I… I’m sorry. By the time I managed to find her again, I… I was ashamed. I admit that it pained me to see what Cain did to her. But I couldn’t…”

“We will talk about it when I can scream at you properly.” Sabine cut her off. “For now I want to know what is so important you decided to show up personally, risking my wrath.”

“The boy has allies.” 

“Who?”

“I don’t know, but they are influential enough to shield him from many of my contacts.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you tried. As opposed to with your daughter.”

“I deserve it…” Sandra lowered her head. 

“Yes, you do.” Sabine huffed. 

“If I find the kid…” 

“He sent Mari the knife he stabbed Ladybug with. I have no idea how he got his sticky hands on it…” 

“You still have the bag, right?”

“Already waiting for me in Gotham.”

“I will try digging some more, but I’m getting blocked at each turn.”

“Meanwhile I will keep both our girls safe.”

“I got the picture of Talia by the way.” Lady Shiva allowed a smile to ghost her face. “I carry it framed and put it by my bed. She got a few copies too.” 

“Good. That might remind her not to trifle with us.” The sisters shared a laugh, but Sabine was still angry and it showed. She would give her sister a piece of her mind when the time came. 

-----------

A figure stood cloaked in shadows. The small screen showed a series of images. 

“Poison Ivy; Bane; Penguin; Riddler; Mr. Freeze; Two-Face; Scarecrow; Clayface; Falcone; Harley Quinn; Killer Croc; Joker…” 

“The previous Hawkmoth was a fool.” Another figure spoke from the shadows. Their voice was neither feminine nor masculine. “He stuck to a moral high ground, giving powers to untrained kids. Then again, he was fighting kids.” 

A small, butterfly-like creature floated in the air. “But that is precisely what the Butterfly Miraculous is supposed to do! Its powers will work best with the common people.” 

“Interesting.” The main figure grinned. “So my father wasn’t such a fool after all.” He laughed when another image appeared on the screen. “And I see that my trap is already working.”

Duusuu had to hide from fear. This was not the kind boy they knew. What could’ve happened to Chat Noir, the great kind Chat Noir that made him into… this.

-------

Masterlist // Next

[ill-skillsgard]

is faith dealing w being away from fausty? I miss them so :(,, I hope you’re well love xoxo

Warning: 18+ Mentions of sex/phone sex, mentions of alcohol and drug use, violent threats, non-consensual touching, brief mentions of rape.

Note: I missed writing Faust stuff so much over the holidays. He’s definitely one of my favourite secretly soft boys. I can’t wait to get back into the swing of writing. Thank you to the lovely anons who haven’t given up on this pairing yet! I will try not to go 2 months between posts for these guys.

Summary: Faith starts to miss Faust so much while he’s away on tour that she goes to his apartment to spend the night in his bedroom. However, her plans are interrupted by the people Faust warned her not to hang around.

Faust x Faith Masterpost [x]

Faith awoke in a sweat, chest pumping hot torrents of blood to her head as the ceiling came into view, the walls containing her after a flight through a nightmare faded into obscurity. She rolled onto her back, her flimsy cotton nightgown sticking to her dewy skin, and tossed the comforter from her top half. Streetlamps and passing cars cast geometric blocks of light on the ceiling, illuminating the dust motes floating by her face. Faith breathed in and out, shaking her head free from the gripping terror of unconsciousness.

She had dreamed of receiving a phone call from Faust in the middle of the night, and when she answered, he explained to her in a laconic, matter-of-fact voice why they shouldn't continue seeing each other. He was too busy to maintain a relationship with a girl who's path would never intersect with his goals. She was too young, too naive, too proper. Too this and too that and in no way matched him. The terrible sinking in her chest returned as it had in the dream, but she dismissed the sensation. It was all a silly dream, a manifestation of her worst fear. Faust loved her and would never break up with her—least of all over a phone call.

The cellphone next to her pillow came to life, vibrating a couple of times before she found it and squinted at the bright screen. Faust. She sat up, and her lungs froze, the cavernous hole opening up under her skin. When she answered, voices and loud music came through like warring radio waves.

"Hello?" She whispered, not wanting to wake her dorm mate.

"Faith? You there?"

"Yes," her voice crawled from her throat, no louder than a rasp. She cleared her airway and said again, "Yes."

"Aw, are you sleeping, babe?"

"No," she whispered.

"Hm? I can't hear you. Hang on, let me find a quieter place."

Faith swung out of bed and left the dorm to go to the shared washrooms where she could speak. She entered a stall, put down the toilet seat and sat atop the cold plastic, waiting for Faust's deep voice to tickle her ear again.

"You there?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"That's better, yeah. I can hear you now."

Faith squeezed her knees together, his voice like warm liquid flowing into her stomach. She sighed, relieved.

"Sorry, I know it's late for you. We had a really late soundcheck, then I was in the green room until we went on. I didn't forget to call."

Faith nodded, smiling, though Faust couldn't see the respite his words gave her after the unpleasant dream that had jarred her awake.

"It's okay. Where are you again?"

"Utah, probably a couple hours behind you. We're out of the venue now."

"How was the show?" Faith asked.

"It was good—big stage. Couple hundred people, but maybe a quarter of them were there for us. We sold a lot of merch, though."

"That's great, babe. I'm glad you're having fun."

"Yeah," Faust sighed. "I miss you, though. Can't believe there's still another three weeks of this."

Faith leaned her head against the stall's metal barrier, reading the scandalous notes engraved in the chipped paint. "I know. Seems like forever."

"You're still good to come to our last show?"

"Yes. I told my parents I'm going to a friend's cottage for the weekend."

"But really, you're getting on a Greyhound and coming to see me."

She closed her eyes and giggled. "That's right."

Faith wondered if she should tell Faust about her bad dream. She knew what he'd say to her: it was just a dumb dream, and he would never break up with her, so she shouldn't let it bother her so much. She accepted this assurance without bringing it up.

"I'm in my bunk now," Faust told her.

"I'm in the bathroom," said Faith.

"Wish you were here, though. It gets so boring sometimes, driving from place to place, listening to these dumbasses argue over the shower."

"It's the same here. I've started taking showers at midnight just to avoid the headache and bargaining. These girls all have the same night routine. There's always a line-up to use the shower."

"Mm," Faust grunted. "Yeah. Stupid."

A moment of silence passed between them. Faith savoured his soft breaths coming over the line, wishing she could feel the warmth behind them. She craved his scent, the smell of his shampoo, the distinct mentholated freshness of his deodorant. She wanted to stroke his face, and touch his biceps, inspect the hair underneath his arms until he told her she was weird for finding such things fascinating. She wanted to feel the twin ruts coming to a peak below his navel, leading down to his groin where he'd snatch her hand and berate her, ultimately relenting and letting her stroke the soft skin underneath the band of his plaid boxers.

"I wanna touch you," she whispered.

"Fuck," he drawled. "Me too, babe."

"I had a bad dream you called me in the middle of the night to break up with me... then you actually called. Do you think that's weird?"

Faust scoffed in that indignant way he always did. She pictured the corner of his mouth snagging, his brows descending at such a silly thing.

"That's kind of weird."

"I hate not being able to sleep next to you."

"Don't worry, babe. I'll be home soon. You can get through the next few weeks."

"Yeah, but... Do you miss sleeping next to me?"

"Oh, definitely. I really miss you hogging the blankets, pushing me to the edge of the bed, punching me in your sleep."

"I don't do that!"

Faust snickered. "Yeah, you do. But it's okay. I'm like way stronger than you. I can move you like nothing."

"Don't remind me," Faith groaned.

"Don't remind you of what? How strong I am?"

Faith made her voice small. "Yes. I can't think of that kind of stuff right now."

"You can't think about me overpowering you?"

"Sh. Quiet."

"What? Don't want to think about me pinning your arms above your head with one hand while I finger you? S'that what you don't want to think about?"

"I hate you," she said.

"Hate it when I pick you up and fuck you against the wall?"

"Yes."

"So...You're definitely not thinking about my cock, then? You haven't been playing with my pussy while I've been away? Pretending your fingers are mine? Or using that toy you bought to fuck yourself in your dorm when your roommate isn't there?"

"Oh my gosh, Faust. Please."

"You don't make yourself cum to the thought of me eating out that pussy? You don't miss my fat cock stretching out that poor little slit? Making you bounce on it? Sucking it until I cum buckets down your throat?"

"Faust," she whispered. "You're bad."

"Answer me. Do you think about riding my cock every night before bed? Rub yourself against a pillow between your legs?"

"Yes, I think about it all the time."

"Can you do me a favour?" Faust asked. Faith agreed before hearing the terms of said agreement. "Tomorrow, I want you to go to all your classes without wearing any panties under your skirt."

Faith's cheeks burned from his request. "What if it's windy and it blows up my skirt?"

"I don't really care," he said. "Know what? Never mind. Scratch that. This isn't a request; it's a command. I want you to take pictures while you're in class to prove you listened."

"I can't! Someone will see."

"Think I give a fuck? Sit in the back if you have to."

"I'll try," said Faith, toying with the sleeves of her nightgown.

"That's my girl."

They spoke for a few more minutes until Faust's bandmates flooded onto the bus, yelling and searching for the drummer who'd stowed away in the bunks. Faust said his goodbyes, made sure Faith understood her instructions for tomorrow, then said goodnight. She heard his friends mocking him in the backroom, calling him pussy-whipped, listened to him threaten their lives and giggled.

"I love you," Faust said, loud enough that anyone around him might hear. His unabashed affection filled her to the brim with warm fuzz.

"I love you, too," Faith replied, then looked at the phone screen until he hung up.

Later in the week, Faith started having trouble sleeping. Even if she filled her days with activities, studied into the night, ate properly and read before bed, her mind swam with anxiety. She told Faust about it, but he had no solution other than to stop by his place to grab one of his hoodies to sleep in, maybe one of his blankets if she missed him so much. Delighted, Faith accepted the suggestion, and Faust texted his roommate to leave the apartment door unlocked for her. She made her way over after dinner one night and walked in on Faust's roommate hosting a party.

The apartment was in disarray—worse than she'd ever seen. Beer bottles and cigarettes overflowing the ashtray was commonplace, but now there were grease-stained pizza boxes open on the floor, salt stains on the rug from people coming in and out from the balcony. The sofa pocked with several more burn marks, the dishes hadn't been washed since Faust left, and the entire living room reeked of stale food and smoke. Not only that, but she'd come in at the precise moment the music transitioned, and every eye in the place went to her.

She recognized half the people in Faust's apartment from other parties—Anika, the most familiar face that turned in her direction. The tall, blond girl smiled and pushed a guy's hand off her shoulder before approaching her. The metal music picked up, drowned out the silence, and Faith relaxed when Anika hugged her.

"Hey! I didn't know you were coming!" Anika exclaimed.

"I wasn't... Well, I didn't know anyone was here. I just came to get some stuff from Faust's room."

"Oh, cool. How is Frosty? I haven't seen you guys since Halloween!"

"He's good," Faith said, voice tapering off when she saw a pair of malicious eyes grilling her from across the room. "You know... Just touring."

"Yeah, I heard. That's awesome. Hey, you want anything to drink? We have beer in the fridge," Anika said.

Faith felt awkward standing in the middle of the front hall, while groups of people occupied her boyfriend's apartment. She realized she had very little dominion and shrank into herself until Anika pulled her into the kitchen. The blond pulled out two cans of domestic beer and handed her one, noticing Faith's unease.

"What's the matter?" Asked Anika.

Faith wondered if Faust knew about all the people in his apartment, if his roommate had asked him if he could have a party and invite all the people Faust talked shit about—the people he warned her not to hang out with.

"Uh, nothing. Just feels weird being here without Faust," said Faith.

"Aw, it's okay, girl. We party here all the time."

Faith questioned the verity of Anika's claim. She couldn't recall them having any big parties there since she started dating Faust eight months ago. Faust didn't like too many people in his space. Whenever they partied, it was always at someone else's house or out in the bush around a fire.

The same pair of blue eyes had Faith in a stranglehold. She cocked her head, and Anika noticed her attention locked on a man with fine blond hair touching his collarbone.

"Is that—?"

"Sven? Yeah. You probably remember him from that time we went camping."

Faith wished to turn in on herself, abandon the can of beer Anika had given her, grab what she needed from Faust's room, and leave. Anika sensed her discomfort and placed her thin hand on Faith's shoulder.

"Don't worry, he won't bother you. He has a girlfriend now."

"He's a creep," Faith muttered.

Anika shot Sven a look over her shoulder, and he turned away, pulling on a beer and wiping his mouth. Faith remembered the stench of his burnt hair in the fire, how Faust had punched him and dragged him through the dirt toward the pit where he held his face in the flames. Sven complained about the scratches and scrapes on his arms and legs from Faust dragging him the entire way home after they cut the trip short. The same tension that pierced the atmosphere in the van while Sven took the front seat and Faust held her hand in the back seat was the same strain she felt now as he stole glances at her. His wispy mustache had grown back along with his eyebrows and pale lashes.

Faith felt a pang of guilt in her stomach but dismissed the feeling with a swig of beer and Anika's encouragement. Faust would get angry with her if he knew she felt even an inch of remorse over what happened. Sven deserved what he got, and that's what she kept telling herself throughout the night as she drank a couple more beers with Anika and took a hit off a joint someone offered her out on the balcony.

A few of Faust's friends asked her about him, and it filled her with pride knowing everyone there knew who she was, who Faust was. She told them where the band was that night, where they were slated to go next, that they had sold out of merchandise and had to place an emergency order and have it shipped to the next venue. After a few hours, Faith felt the tug of exhaustion creeping over her shoulders and told Anika she had to head out, though she'd already missed the last bus and had little money in her bank account for a cab. Faith considered asking someone for a ride back to campus, but nobody seemed sober enough to trust behind the wheel.

Instead, she went to Faust's bedroom and shut the door and all the noises behind her. In his room, she took in a deep breath, and then another, filling her senses with the comforting scent of pine, stale air and the boyish aroma Faust carried with him. She went to his closet and brushed a hand over the black t-shirts and one of his leather coats. Next, Faith opened the third drawer in the lowboy and pulled out a hoodie that had shrunk in the wash and didn't fit Faust anymore. She often wore it when she came over, but he refused to let her take it home until now. She slipped it on over her blouse, smoothed it over her skirt and wrapped her arms around her ribs. The hood still smelled of Faust's hair.

Without thinking much, she arranged the objects on his dresser into an organized system rather than a mess of pens, splintered drumsticks, guitar picks and snack wrappers. She shovelled the waste into the garbage can under his desk, made his bed, fluffed the pillows, cleared the dirty clothes off the floor and kicked it all into the closet. If there wasn't a party going on right outside the door, she'd have done his laundry and took the dirty plates and forks to the kitchen sink. She did what she could without having to set foot outside the bedroom, and by the time she finished folding the clothes in his dresser into neat stacks, it was far too late for her to go anywhere.

Faith took off her panties and skirt, changed into a pair of his pyjama pants and sat on his bed with her hands folded, wondering if Faust would care if she spent the night in his bed. The fluffy pillows called out for her head. His comforter promised visions of them together again. She considered texting him to say she was staying over, but there was a knock on the door as she went for her phone.

She lifted her feet off the carpet and tucked them under her thighs, balled herself as small as she could until whoever knocked got the hint and walked away. The knock came again, and Faith's throat tightened.

"Yes?" She called.

The door opened, and she expected to see Anika's blond head poking in, but it wasn't her. The person was blond, but the face was not smeared with white foundation, nor were the blue eyes overlined with charcoal black. Sven stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.

"What are you doing in here?" He asked.

"What are you doing in here? This is my boyfriend's room. Why wouldn't I be here?"

"Sorry," said Sven, opening his palms to show he meant no harm. "I wanted to talk to you for a second. Is that okay?"

"I don't see why that's necessary."

"Mmkay, well, you don't have to be a bitch about it. Your boyfriend is the one who almost burnt my face off."

"Well, you were being weird. You're being weird now by coming in here. You should probably go."

"Sucks when he's not around to intimidate everyone that ever wants to start a conversation with you, huh?"

Faith pressed her lips together. Was he threatening her? She wasn't sure. He kept his distance, though his eyes ricocheted off the valuable objects in the room. The Gibson guitar hanging on the wall, the vintage RD bass in its stand just below, the electric drumset next to the desk, Faust's five-thousand-dollar computer, and finally, her. Faust's prized possessions all in one room.

"What do you want to talk about?" Faith broke the silence, sweating.

"I wanted to apologize for acting like an idiot back in the Summer. I was really drunk. I shouldn't have said that shit."

"Okay, well, thanks for the apology."

Sven gestured at her, pale eyebrows high on his freckled forehead. "And?"

"And what?" Faith asked.

"Aren't you going to apologize to me?"

"I have nothing to apologize for."

"You can apologize on behalf of your psycho boyfriend. That’d be a start."

Faith scoffed, heated by the insult. When it came to Faust, she never wanted to hear the negatives. It reminded her of her father's disapproval, filled her with useful venom. "Sorry, if you want an apology from Faust, he’d have to give it to you, and I don’t think that’s happening any time soon."

"Wow," Sven said with a click of his tongue. "And I thought you were a nice girl."

"I am nice, but right now, you're in my personal space, and it's making me uncomfortable."

As she spoke, she noticed Sven's knees wobbling. He was drunk. His beer breath filled the room. Faith shifted closer to the wall, clutching her crossed legs, silently begging for him to leave. He took a step closer, and she gasped.

"Relax, I'm not gonna do anything. Jesus, you chicks watch too much TV, thinkin' every dude is a rapist or something."

"Whatever you say, man. Look, if you're done, I think it's time you leave."

"Why? You going to sleep?"

"You just shouldn't be in here. If Faust were home, you wouldn't set foot in this room or even think about talking to me."

Sven threw his head back and laughed. "Just because he caught me off guard once doesn't mean I'm afraid of him. He can suck my dick, and so can you."

"Get out," Faith said.

"Hey now, hey... It's all good. Christ, I'm just trying to mend bridges, but you're being a total bitch when I'm here apologizing."

"You just told me I could suck your dick. You're literally insulting me to my face. I've asked you to leave, and you're not!"

Sven pushed air through his teeth, teetered closer to her and sat down on the foot of the bed. Faith's body froze, her limbs stiff as boards as the man laid on his back. His face was a foot from her.

"If it weren't for your boyfriend, I'd be on tour right now. I'd be the one selling out venues and merch, signing shit and having people ask me to take pictures."

"It was your fault."

When the words floated from Faith's mouth, his forehead crinkled, and he shot up. She gasped, scrambling against the wall like a cornered rodent.

"Fuck you! Stupid fucking slut! Faust is a way bigger piece of shit than I am. Ask anybody! Everyone knows how much of an asshole he is. Nobody actually likes him. They're just afraid of him because he threatens to kill anyone whoever disagrees with what he says."

The venom roiled in Faith's stomach, blistering up her neck and filling her mind with violent static. Her hands shook as adrenaline pumped into her veins. One more minute alone with Sven and she thought she might lose control of herself.

Sven got off the bed and went for the bass. Faith hissed at him not to touch it, so he leaned over and spat on the finish.

"Get out!" Faith cried. "Get the fuck out right now!"

The music outside the door must have drowned out her yells, for nobody came looking for her. She stood up on the bed, back pressed against a poster. Sven grabbed at her ankle, but she kicked and slapped the top of her foot against his forearm. He laughed and swiped again as she danced away.

"LEAVE!"

"Make me!"

"I'll fucking call the cops on you!"

"Do it, bitch. I'll knock you out and do what I want before anyone even realizes I'm in here."

"Help!" Faith hollered. "Rape! Rape! He's trying to rape me!"

"Woah, woah, calm down. I didn't say that—"

The venom boiled over, shot up through her esophagus and escaped her mouth in panicked screams. Stunned by the banshee shrieks ripping through the air, Sven backed toward the door, feeling around for the doorknob while Faith screamed her face red, blood vessels popping in her eyes, throwing explosions of stars across her vision until he left the room and she dropped onto the bed, crying. Faith felt around the bed for her phone and called Faust.

He answered on the first ring.

"Faust," she blubbered.

"Don't worry, baby. I'm coming home right now."

"W-what?"

"Look over at the computer."

Faith wiped the snot from her nose onto the hoodie's sleeve and glanced at the desk where the computer monitor stood. "Huh? I don't understand."

"See that light right beside the monitor? Wave at it."

Faith lifted her hand. She squinted at the blue dot belonging to a small camera set up between a speaker and the monitor.

"I installed a Bluetooth camera before leaving for tour. Don't trust people to not go into my room and touch my stuff."

"You mean—?"

"I saw everything. Heard everything, too. It's motion-activated."

Faith paled at the thought of Faust watching her cleaning his room, the way she'd caressed his clothes on her face and huffed his scent before Sven came in.

"What should I do, Faust? He's still out there."

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it."

"Should I call the cops?"

"No, don't call anyone. Don't say anything. I said I'll take care of it."

"Okay," she whispered.

"Faith, I'm serious. Let me handle this," his voice was stern.

"What're you gonna do?"

Faust went quiet for a moment until she motioned at the camera. He sighed. "I can't tell you right now."

The adrenaline depleted, and Faith let out a sob. "I need you, Faust. I'm scared."

"Don't be scared, babe. I got you. I'll be home as soon as I can, but I need you to be strong. Don't talk to anyone about what happened until I get there, understand? Nobody. Not your friends, not your parents, don't write it in your journal or breath a word. I promise I'll make it better."

[zombiekillerky]

{Reassurance Gone} Dream SMP Fanfic, pt 2 of Reassured

{Based off of Tommy’s last stream everyone is devastated about. Sorry everyone who reads this if I bring back bad memories. WARNING : Abuse, Blood, Manipulation}

"It's no problem Tommy, I'm always here for you"

Tommy thought long and hard over those words as he sat in the cell all this time with his worst nightmare. Time was almost slowed as the hours no minutes went by. He felt the walls caving in around him, it was so hard to breath, so hard to concentrate. He sat as far away as he could from that nightmare he shared a cell with. The man that had eyes on him with his devilish grin that seemed to never fade. His hands would shake, fingernail imprints dug in to his skin from how hard he would press his fingers against his palm to distract him. His body would quiver even though the lava that dropped from the outside was a few feet next to him. He was terrified of many things, he wished this was a nightmare. He begged that it was so he could wake up and pretend nothing ever happened. But sadly it wasn’t, it was all to real and that was what pained him day by day as he sat in the cell with his worst enemy.

"It's no problem Tommy, I'm always here for you"

Sam had told him before he gotten himself in to this mess, the creeper hybrid was so set on helping him. He was so concerned with him and his mindset, standing right by his side and made sure he was comfortable with everything. Sam had him keep his mindset on something instead of thinking about the bad times he had previously. He truly cared about him didn’t he? He wasn’t using him like almost everyone else seems to. The blonde broken boy screamed out his name, cried for him to come to his rescue. He even screamed for Phil, the man he trusted with most things in his life. But nobody came, he felt his hope fading slowly. Knowing no one would come to his aid at this rate, he would have to tough this out and play the waiting game he hated dearly. But even a thirty minute visit with the villain he hated most made him sick to his stomach. He wanted to see Sam.....he wanted to see Phil, he wanted to see Tubbo. He wanted freedom again that he longed for, for what seemed like eternity.

Days had pasted for what seemed like a month went by, the blonde was so tired from trying to stay up in the nights he stayed. The light of the lava being his only light in the darkness that surrounded him. There was no trust in sleeping around the homeless man as Techno would like to call him. At this point in time he wanted to claw his ears off after listening to the nightmare talk about his stories and his past life before he had met Tommy. To try and pass the time as Dream says. Even after the blonde shouted at him to shut up several times, singing to distract him from his words but nothing would work. He was surprised that a fight didn’t break out sooner between them both. There were few arguments on some things. Like Dream telling him to give up, that no body was coming to save him. Or how Dream left Sapnap and George, that he didn’t care at all for them even int he beginning. They both knew ways to toy with each other’s emotions, yet Dream knew exactly where to stab in order to get the right reaction out of him. But at this rate Tommy was feeling himself go mad as the hours went by with him.

“Sam! Sam let me out Sam! Please!” Tommy yelled as he heard Sam’s voice coming closer to the cell. He was excited once he heard his voice, relieved that he was finally done with the torture of staying in the box with Dream. He wanted to leave, he wanted to see Sam and hug him tight. He wanted reassurance again, he wanted to know that he was finally okay and away from the prison forever. He would leave and never look back ever no matter what would happen to him. Yet once he heard Sam and his reply, his happiness dropped at an alarming rate. His smile faded once he heard his words,

“Tommy I promise you I will figure out what is wrong and I will get you out of there as fast as I can. I promise you okay and don’t you forget that. I’ll make sure you come out as soon as possible but I have to make sure there is no possible way of Dream escaping again” Sam shouted through the lava in order for Tommy to hear him somewhat. The blonde just stared at the lava with his mouth slightly open in a confused stare. He thought he was done, he thought his time in here was now over with. He was done, he was supposed to be free from the hell he was living him. He needed to leave now, he couldn’t bare another second of this madness. Tommy clutched his shirt tightly, his breathing was becoming short and heavy like something was on top of his chest. He could feel tears forming in the corners of his eyes. His wrapped hand quickly wiped them away, he shouldn’t show weakness at this moment. He didn’t want to cry in front of Dream over this, Dream would most likely use that against him now wouldn’t he. Tommy bit down on to his bottom lip slightly as he tried to calm himself down. 

“B-But why Sam....you said a week” Tommy barely spoke, holding back his anxiety and sadness as he spoke toward Sam behind the lava. It was to hard doing this for a week and now there were extra days added on to it? What was Sam thinking? What was he doing, he knew Tommy’s fears, he knew what Dream had done to him in exile. So why was he not understanding that he needed to be let out now.

“Tommy....I-”

“SAM FUCKING LET ME OUT! PLEASE SAM! I”M BEGGING YOU....please....please just get me out of here....I-I can’t do t-this anymore” Tommy whimpered as he fell to the floor on to his knees. Tears slipped down his cheeks with a sizzling sound of them dropping to the floor near the lava. The smokey smell filled Tommy’s lungs as he sat only a foot or two away from the burning lava. His eyes clenched as he tried to hold back his sobs, he was grown up. He shouldn’t be crying over this right? Yet he felt it was the right thing to do at the moment since there was nothing else to exactly do.

“Tommy you can stay in there for a bit longer I know you can....Tommy you’re strong, you can stand a couple more days in there....Don’t give up hope now alright, I promise I’ll get you out of there soon. Just trust me on this, Dream can’t be let out of the prison. Many lives depend on that Tommy, I’m sorry I know how terrible this is for you and I want to get you out of there I do”

“It’s kind of hard to do when you told me I’d be stuck here for a week Sam...7 DAYS! 7 days is what I was told and now you’re telling me MORE! I KNOW MY RIGHTS, I KNOW WHAT I SIGNED IN THAT BOOK SAM” Tommy shouted to the point where he started to cough. Blaming it on the nuclear reaction to Tubbo’s rocket crater. Sam covered his mouth, noticing the strain in Tommy’s voice as he shouted across the lava barrier that separated them both. The creeper hybird hated himself so much as he heard him yell over and over again for him to let him out. He wanted to open up the lava barrier and bring him out so badly. But this was protocol, he couldn’t bring himself to even do it. His hand hovered over the button that would remove the lava and bring the path over for him. Hesitation was all he felt as his shaky hand went over the button several times to try and press it. After swearing that he would protect him so much he couldn’t even bring himself to open up the gate and bring him out. He wanted to just grab him and tell him everything was gong to be okay. The idea of Tommy being stuck with the server’s number one dangerous person made him sick to his stomach. He made a promise to him and here he was breaking it....what was he doing? What was he thinking?

“Sam.....you know...I-I don’t do well in small areas Sam....this is worse then exile sam....this is way worse the exile...please let me out...I don’t like this.....I-I can’t do this Sam *sniff*....I need out....I need you....I-I can’t be in here with him anymore *sniff*” Tommy cried as he wiped his eye with his palm, trying to calm himself some what. Attempting to do the breathing exercises Sam had taught him when he would panic like this.

“I-I know it’s not the best but I can’t let you out Tommy....not now....just a couple more days-” Tommy clenched his hands tightly, his breathing was not easing up as he sat there. His fists pounded the floor in anger, why couldn’t he just understand what he was going through.

“FOR ONCE STOP BEING SUCH A PUSSY AND SHOOT HIM IN THE FACE! LET ME OUT! PLEASE I’M BEGGING YOU SAM” There was a long pause after Tommy screamed at him. For a second Tommy thought Sam was actually gong to listen and bring him out like he wanted. But the silence was just because Sam was speechless toward Tommy and what he screamed. he has never heard him scream like that before. Even when TechnoBlade and him were yelling at each other during the festival.

“I promise you you’re gonna be out soon, you just need to stay strong Tommy” Tommy’s face fell once he heard Sam utter those words to him once more. Like a broken record on replay over and over again. No matter how much he pleaded Sam wouldn’t open up the doors. He probably wouldn’t if Dream was hurting him either.

“j-just....just fuck off” Tommy replied as he covered his eyes with his palms that hurt from him hitting the ground. Sam held his hand out toward the direction Tommy was in. Clenching his fist as he retracted it back, replaying the words the boy had said over and over within his head. He sounded so terrified and so hurt. Same hated himself for turning around, his feet were slow as he basically dragged them while walking away. He couldn’t bare looking at the lava that contained the prison cell anymore. He couldn’t bare thinking that Tommy was in there suffering because of him. 

Tommy sighed as he stood up from his spot on the floor, his head turned around slowly to find Dream simply smiling as he stood up against the side of the wall.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad Tommy”

“It is and I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, you’re ugly!” Tommy shouted as he walked back over to the wall next to the chest that contained their books they shared. He wanted to sit and be alone with his thoughts that seemed to just be bad. Yet the masked villain didn’t seem to know anything about alone time now did he?

“Yeah yeah I know you say the same thing every 10 minutes I get it., I get it don’t you worry” Dream held his hands up in defense, his sly smirk never faded from his face as he stood there. He enjoyed watching Tommy fidget and yell in his anxious state, he didn’t need to write anymore to keep busy. All he had to do was watching him and his comedy act he played. Tommy’s blue orbs darted over to him as he stood up against the wall. He rolled his eyes as he hugged his knees tighter to his chest. Calming himself down from achieving a bigger panic attack that would soon come on. He hated Dream so much, he hated Sam for not coming to help him, he hated himself for even coming here in the first place. He wanted to go home, he wanted to go back to his hotel he just finished. Why was it so hard to achieve happiness, why is there something always in his path when he finally get’s something he wants. Life couldn’t be more unfair to him then it was right now. He was just so done with everything, and yet his mind kept telling him not to give up hope like he wants to dearly.

“Tommy....hey I have an idea okay hear me out....why don’t we break out together huh, you get what you want and I get what I want?” Tommy stared at him for a second as he watched Dream push off of the wall and walk toward him. What was Dream trying to do now to him, he told himself never to fall for anything he says ever again.

“what...no because then you’ll be out with me and I don’t want you to break out. You deserve to stay in here Dream for everything you have done, I don’t” Tommy replied shyly, resting his head back down on to his knees. Dream just stared at him, his eyes squinting as he tried to read Tommy’s facial expression. He knew he wouldn’t be able to manipulate him any longer, the boy had grown smarter since the last time he played with his emotions. It would be harder to take advantage of him this time. But he was up for the challenge, it was always quite fun to have something new. Dream sighed as he turned his back toward him, watching the lava fall from up above where the entrance is.

“Fine....I’m gonna get out....and you...you just motivated me *points towards Tommy*. You motivated me all this time you know that. Seeing how dedicated you are....” Dream smirked as he watched Tommy’s facial expression change to irritation and anger. He was going to escape, he knew he was, he just needed to right plan and the right moment to do so.

“I’m going to get out....and when I do I’m going to have my revenge.”

“what the....what the fuck does that mean?....W-What does that mean Dream?” Tommy stuttered as he lifted his head up from his knees, slowly making his way up against the wall as he watched Dream. Tommy could feel a shiver go down his spine as he watched him. He was enjoying this he knew he was, this was all just a big show to him and nothing more. He was just trying to get a rise out of him. What was sad was it was working and he hated it. He shouldn’t let Dream get a hold of his emotions but it was so hard not to listen. 

“It means I’ll get my revenge Tommy, What do you think that means”

“on who....oh OH ON EVERYONE WON’T YOU! YOU’LL GO AND YOU’LL KILL...you won’t kill everyone won’t you...you wouldn’t kill anyone......of course you would wouldn’t you you bastard.....you sick sick bastard do you fucking know that!” Tommy muttered underneath his breath as he turned away from him. Dream was a sick human being, human being if that. He would take the chance to kill anyone if he was given it. He used Tubbo against him to give him the disks back. Everyone is just another pawn in his grasp that he plays to get what he wants over all. He has said it before, he doesn’t care about anything he just wants power. Even if it meant him hurting the ones he used to care about.

“You’ll kill Tubbo won’t you?”

“Tommy.....I’ll get revenge on who ever wronged me” Dream chuckled as he watched Tommy boil with rage. His fist came forward and was met with Dream’s jaw line. Dream took a step back and held where Tommy had punched him. He seen Tommy clenching his hands tightly as his teeth grinned against each other. His rage was taking over his body at the moment, the show was just ow getting better for the prisoner. 

“YOU WILL NOT KILL TUBBO!” Tommy yelled as he came forward and punched him again once Dream stood up. All Dream could do was laugh to himself as he spit to the side. Feeling blood drip from the cut on his lip. His steady fingers reached up and touched his bottom lip. Seeing the red on his finger tips as he pulled his hand slowly away

“Stop hitting me Tommy, you really don’t want to do that now”

“No....fuck you...fuck you Dream!”

“Fuck you Tommy...aww you’re so...I’ve sat hear, listening to your bullshit this whole time you have been in here with me!....You’re whining and crying about how this is worse then exile out int he middle of fucking no where. This is soooo terrible, you’re sitting in a box-”

“YEAH, I’M CLAUSTROPHOBIC...A BOX....A SMALL BOX AT THAT YOU FUCK. THIS IS THE WORST THING ANYONE COULD DO TO ME!!”

“I’ve been sitting here for a hundred times longer then you! *pushes Tommy back roughly* And you sit there and tell me that it’s so horrible and so bad..But we have each other to talk to don’t we. You keep pushing me away like that is going to do anything. I’m used to the silence here, I can handle myself just fine. But you on the other hand, it looks like you need someone to distract you from this sticky situation you’re in” Dream replied pointing at the blonde boy across the room from him.Tommy showed his fangs as his upper lip raised to scowl. He hated him so much, he was his enemy not his friend. He was the man that tortured him in exile for weeks, the man that turned his best friend against him and made sure no one would come to see him. The man who made his life a living hell and made him think of jumping off in to lava in the nether several times to escape the world he lived in. 

Tommy laughed slightly as he walked forward toward Dream, he wasn’t going to be scared of him. He put him in this prison, he was the on that took two of his lives away from him and he could take away the third as well.

“You don’t have me....you’ll never have me....WE don’t have each other alright.....I am me and you are just t-this loser who goes around manipulating people. LYING to get what he wants.....you are a fucking no one man, you’re just a sick excuse of a human being you know that? huh..You truly are, I don’t know what George and Sapnap seen in you....You make me sick” Tommy chuckles softly as he runs his fingers through his messy hair, trying to read Dream’s expression as he stood there in front of him.

“You might have a favor, who is it TechnoBlade? Is he going to struggle to get you out....No no no TechnoBlade doesn’t like governments, he likes self gain....*laughs* Do you really think he wants to piss off the owner of the most powerful building on this entire land Dream?  The Blade is smart....he wouldn’t go out of his way for someone like you even if he does have a favor he owes you. I know Techno better then that, he knows how and when to play his cards right and you aren’t in his plans” Tommy smirked as he remembered his times with the Blade out in the snow where he used to stay. The good times they shared of chaos, yet calming times by the fireplace for dinner in the evening Phil would cook for them. Those were times he missed dearly, times he wished he could earn back with the Blade. Sometimes he goes back and thinks about what would have happened if he didn’t betray the Blade back then. Maybe he would have been by his side right now and protecting him against Dream like he used to.

“But I do know something he might want....He likes knowledge right?” Dream asked with a smirk as he watched Tommy slowly stare at him in thought. Tommy was getting even more irritated, the blonde reached forward and pushed Dream again. Dream knew Tommy’s relationship was still a touchy subject even now, he would use that against him if he was going to act this way.

“Shut up” 

“He likes being a couple steps a head of people....I know how he can think, he is good with strategy....just because I am trapped in here doesn’t mean I have lost my knowledge Tommy! You know how grateful he’ll be once he see the book of reviving, he wouldn’t have to worry about Phil holding him back with his one life-”

“SHUT UP, YOU DON’T KNOW NOTHING ABOUT HIM!” Tommy yelled as he punched Dream in the arm as strong as he could. Yet it seemed like he wasn’t even fazed with him. Dream only laughed slightly underneath his breath as he fist came around. The wind was knocked out of Tommy as Dream’s fist landed right in to his stomach. Tommy clutched his stomach in pain as he tried to catch his breath. A coughed fit started as tears formed in the corners of his eyes. But before he could stand up, Dream’s fist came around again and again. Spit was coughed up on to the flooring as Tommy crouched down. Trying to catch his breath in his coughing fit he was having. Suddenly his hair was pulled back tightly, making him look up in pain as Dream pulled his hair to make him look up forcefully.

“Even though I’m in here I’m still more powerful then you are when you’re outside..It’s always been true and you know that....You should fear me” Dream smiled widely, but soon frowned upon Tommy’s unfazed look on his face.

“Stop fucking talking *coughs* for once in your god damn obsessed life.....I fucking hate you.....I hate you so mu-” Tommy’s face went to the side as Dream’s knuckles met with his cheek. A pop was heard as blood dripped from his nose. Yet Dream brought his head right back up again, noticing the blood that gushed down his lip.

“Says YOU? You have been ANNOYING ME ever since you have gotten here. EVERYDAY non stop whining! Whining about your fears, Whining about getting out and going to your Hotel. Whining about EVERYTHING” Dream shouted as he punched him again across his face. Bringing his head back up all over again so he could look at him. Tommy spit across the floor, blood mixed in with his saliva from his cut lip and oozing nose. His vision was hazy as he sat there, his eye must be swelling from his broken nose already.

“r-right now I could just kill y-you....and the only reason I’m not is because of my friend Tubbo....because we need that revive spell book or whatever the hell it is Schlatt gave you that you talked about.....you’d be dead already if you didn’t have that book” Tommy replied, spitting on the ground yet again to avoid the iron taste he hated dearly. Dream’s grasp left his hair as he took a couple of steps in front of him. His crazy laugh was something that couldn’t be forgotten. Tommy slowly reached up and wiped his nose of the blood that seemed to keep falling. His bandaged hand was now red from all the blood it gathered up.

“I am never using that revival book to help you....or ANY of your stupid little friends that you have....I am NEVER....NEVER EVER going to use it, on you, on any of your friends that you have and will make. I will never use it to save any of you and that’s a promise I will keep. SO just kill me, go a head come on....it’s not like I’m useful for anything, hell you’d be doing me a favor. Being trapped in here sucks, I’d be free if you’d kill me so DO IT” Dream yelled as he held hands arms out wide. Watching as Tommy stood up from the ground shakily as he clutched his stomach with his left arm. His eyes were wide as he stared at him in confusion, almost like he believed Dream would help him in the first place. He should have known Dream wouldn’t have helped him, but the look of shock was to priceless too pass up for the villain in the smiley face mask. Tommy glanced toward the ground, he couldn’t be serious right? He needed that book to revive Wilbur, he needed that book to help him and his friends now and in the future.What was he going to do now? He didn’t know what to do, what to even say next to the man in front of him. He was terrified of what to come next, he wanted to call out for help, he wanted back up but no one would come to his aid. He was all alone with a person so blood thirsty, he couldn’t even protect himself against.

“Once Tubbo dies, you’re just going to come crawling back to me. BEGGING me for that book....and I’ll simply say just let me out....But that won’t ever happen and Tubbo will just be dead for ever and it will be all your fault, all because you wouldn’t let me go.....it’s simple really, once he dies that’s all it will take for you to come and see me again for the book.....and I’ll asked the same thing every time you do...let me out”

“What to you mean when Tubbo dies?....What do you mean”

“If Tubbo dies” Dream corrected himself even though he already meant what he was going say. Once he is let out that will be one of his first targets to go after. The pawn that got in the way of so many of his plans in the past. The pawn that was supposed to die a long time ago and yet his death never came. Tommy turned his head, his hands were starting to clench once more as he thought about it. Thought about what Dream would do if he was let out in to the world yet again. All the damage and destruction that would come in his path once he leaves the prison. No one would stand a chance against him out in the world. Everyone one that sided against him would all be dead in a matter of days wouldn’t they?

“I’ll get out eventually, because either you’ll let me out or people will be dead....You need me....you need this book and I come with it whether you like it or not” Dream said as he crossed his arms tightly to his chest, almost like he was starting to pout. Tommy glanced to the side, trying to ignore the pain in his face from getting hit to many times already. The blonde started to shake his head ever so slightly as he was in thought. Dream raised his eyebrow underneath his masked that covered his scarred face. Confused as to what the boy was thinking as he stood there weakly. Tommy slowly met with the drawn on eyes of Dream’s mask. Wanting to see his full expression as they were arguing just to see what was going on inside his head. He was just so done with everything, he was exhausted and just didn’t want to argue anymore. Yet his brain begged him for the answers that Dream was keeping from him.

“The revive book.....it isn’t real is it?....it’s not fucking real....because from what I recall in exile all you do is lie to me....You lie to me and then you unveil this at last moment!” Tommy shouted as he pushed Dream back once more, to show he wouldn’t back down from him. But all he could see was his smile on his face as he stepped back. Tommy chuckled lightly as he wiped away the blood going down his chin.

“When we went down in to your pit.....here’s what you tell me *proceeds to point at Dream* Oh it was me that reorganized your beach party, it was me that blew up the community house. Basically framing me for every wrong thing you have done to make people hate me even more” Tommy replied in a frustrated tone, he knew he was stepping in to dangerous territory. But he was going to make he point whether he was injured or not. He was not going to back down from Dream any longer, at least that’s what he told himself. Tommy stepped forward, closer and closer toward his enemy that stood still patiently. Tommy pointed toward him, poking him in the chest as he came right up in front of him. So close he could tear off his mask right now with ease.

“You are a clinical manipulator.....a PSYCHOPATH if you will.... For all I know this revival book that you keep doesn’t even exist. Your little card that Jschlatt gave you to play. Jschlatt was just a big fucking drunk mad man alright! He wasn’t some powerful guy that had access to this kind of bullshit! He literally died from a heart attack or a stroke I don’t even know, but that man was not powerful in anyway....Do you really expect me to believe that he had that book? Fuck off man” Tommy replied as he pushed Dream back some more. His back was now up against the wall, yet he cold expressionless face seemed to never change. The boy would admit this was terrifying standing so close to him. He has been afraid the moment the explosions went off and he had to stay in here with him. Maybe even before that, yet he wouldn’t admit it to himself. As Tommy stared at Dream he finally faced him. Trying to think of what words he should say to him at the moment. There was a long pause before he continued,

“I’m NOT lying, Jschlatt gave me a revival book before he died” Dream replied, now pushing Tommy away from him so he could get some space away from the wall. The blonde didn’t believe a word that came out of his mouth from this point on. Why should he when all he has been told were lies coming from him.

“How about you revive him then....revive him right now!” Tommy stubbornly replied, his arms out wide as he stared at Dream. The masked villain knew non of his words were getting across to him in this moment. Tommy was really irritating him at this point in time. 

“WHY WOULD I BE LYING ABOUT THAT HUH” Dream yelled loudly, scaring Tommy as Dream came forward and punched him in the gut again. This time Tommy wasn’t ready to defend himself. He just took the blow to his stomach once more. A whimper came out of his mouth as a few tears fell down his bruised cheeks.

“Oh what? To save my own skin or something? Is that what you think happened huh. I’m not afraid of you or any of those people out there?” Dream asked as he came forward and grabbed Tommy by his hair. Tommy whimpered in pain as he looked at Dream.

“e-exactly, because you’re a liar....you’re a big fat fucking liar.. Through your armor and skin you know what I see?” Tommy coughed as Dream hit him in his stomach once more. Bringing him back up to face him, every time he tried to speak Dream’s fist would collide with one of his body parts. His bottom lip busted and bleeding down his chin as blood flowed out from his broken nose. He could barely see out of his left eye at this point in time.

“a-all I see is a sad little man....w-who is insecure about how this world has gotten so far a head of him....a-and that his only little power in this world is gone from his grasp.... I see a sad little man alright.. You are a nobody Dream, you are NO ONE!”

“Tommy...don’t you realize that your life is literally in my hands....does that make you mad? Does that make you sooo mad?” Dream asked as he watched blood gush out from Tommy’s nose. The bruising underneath his eye was starting to get worse and worse.

“I know you won’t kill me Dream....you said it yourself back at your bunker....You can’t say shit to me” Tommy spit to the side, wanting to hurl from how much blood was in his mouth. The taste of iron was overwhelming on his taste buds as it mixed in with his spit. Tears still fell from his cheeks and on to his shirt.

“You can’t kill me Tommy......but I CAN kill you!” 

“I could kill you right now if I wanted to” Dream’s leg clashed behind Tommy’s knee sending him to the floor. Tommy rolled over and attempted to kick Dream back. He escaped his place on the floor and tried to run for the other side of the room. But once he got up he was pushed back down to the floor in a matter of seconds. Tommy flailed as Dream held his ankle in place, the boy kicked and turned but he couldn’t shake his grasp he had on him. He couldn’t give up, he shouldn’t. If his friends and family has taught him anything, it was to not give up.

“And yet you won’t even try to kill me, you’re running away from me in this small cell like I can’t just catch up to you.....you’re so stupid to think that there is a way you can escape me.....do it....do it if you want to...I know you want to kill me Tommy....After everything that I have done to you! DO IT!” Dream shouted as he punched Tommy again and again in the face. Hearing him cough and spit blood on to the flooring beside him. 

“n-n...no....I-I’m leaving soon-”

“You know you want to kill me Tommy....so come on!”

“Stop it ....STOP IT” Tommy struggled to pushed himself away from Dream on the floor. His vision was getting hazy as he pushed himself back as much as he could. All of his energy was gone as he sat there, watching his enemy come closer to him as he sat with his weight on his elbows.

“LOOK AT ME!.....the only reason I’m not going to kill you is because you are locked up in here....and and I’m going to be let out soon and live my life outside of these walls. Knowing that you’ll be trapped in here all alone for the rest of you life.....if I killed you, that would take away all the suffering that you deserve for hurting so many people” Tommy managed to spit out with a laugh as he watched Dream stop right in front of him as he sat there. The blonde weakly tried to push himself back up in to a better sitting position. He was about ready to stand when he slowly raised his head to look back up at Dream standing there in silence.

“I don’t believe the revive book is real Dream.....Schlatt is fucking dead and he should stay that way...I’ve seen his grave....his corpse is there inside that coffin he doesn't deserve....Big Q ate his damn heart for Christ sake....that book isn’t real Dream....so just give up the act alright” Tommy said as he stood up, his knees buckled as his whole body shook standing there. His breathing was uneven and shaky as he watched Dream stand there with no expression on his face. As Tommy slowly started to limp back over to their chest right by the sink to wash the blood off from him he heard footsteps behind him. His body ached as he bent down as best he could to splash his face with water. But once he felt cold hands on his neck he knew what was about to happen next. Dream pulled Tommy away from the sink and banged his head on the side of the edge. Blood dripped from the corner as the gash on Tommy’s forehead opened up wider.

“Then why don’t you go and join him then?” Dream suggested in a monotone voice that sent chills up Tommy’s spin. The frightened boy tried to escape from his grasp around his neck. No matter how hard he struggled Dream’s grip seemed to tighten around his neck. Making it hard for him to breath after a few seconds. Dream slammed Tommy’s head up against the wall this time. Blood smear as his face met with the rock that couldn’t be broken easily by their mining fatigue. BANG,

-----

“Tubbo....do you think we will ever make it big some day?”

“How do you mean Tommy?”

“Like...become well known hero’s or something?” Tommy asked as he fixed his sitting position on the bench that had his name carved in to the side of it along with Tubbo’s. The blonde glanced over at his best friend as he sat there. The sun set shined upon them with orange light as they watched it fall together. Tubbo chewed on his bottom lip in thought, a regular habit he has always had since they were young.

“Yeah”

“You really think so?”

“I think we could in the future.....we’ll become the best known hero’s in the world I tell you Big Man” Tubbo replied with excitement in his voice, even though his was getting hyped up on the thought. Tommy had a rough time believing that that would actually happen. The thought was nice but he felt as if it was to unrealistic at the moment. The blonde brought his hat around and stared down at it. The dream of him being a hero with his best friend by his side was amazing. But how would they even get there, where would they even start. They aren’t even adults yet and they are already fighting in a war. That’s when the thought of their deaths struck him, what would happen if they died and couldn’t return.

“What’s wrong big man?” Tommy jumped as he was brought out of his thoughts by Tubbo’s question. He hated that Tubbo knew him like the back of his hand some times. He didn’t want the brunette to worry about him, he wanted him to worry about his own needs. But Tubbo being the selfless guy he is would always care even if Tommy pushed him away. The blonde set his hat down in his lap carefully before answering. Looking back up at the boy with light shining on his left side.

“What...”

“What’s wrong, you’re doing that thing where you fidget with something as you’re in thought”

“Oh ah....it’s nothing Tubbo”

“Promise?”

“Yeah...I promise...it’s nothing”

“If there is something you know I’m here for you Tommy, I always will be if you forgotten that already”

“I know I know Tubbo....thanks” Tommy replied with a smirk as he seen Tubbo’s grin on his face before he turned to watch the sunset once more. The chill breeze that flew by as they watched it slowly fall below the tree line.

“It’s no problem Big man...I know you would do the same for me”

-----

Blood spilled on to the ground as Tommy cried out for help. His voice was broken and hoarse as he called at for Sam over and over again as his head was banged against the wall over and over. Tears spilled from his eyes as he cried out in the cell. Coughing on his own spit and blood as he continued to scream. The camera in the corner of the room still worked didn’t it? Sam would come to his aid right? Sam promised him he would be protected, that the creeper hybrid would protect him of this foul monster hurting him right now. Was all he said a lie? Was it just to comfort him and that was it? BANG went his head again against the cold wall, blood dripped over his eye from the gash widening on his forehead.

-----

“Wilbur wait up man!”

“Tommy you’re to slow hurry up now we need to head to the tree before sun down. You know how concerned Phil get’s when we aren’t back by 7″ Wilbur yelled back as they ran out toward the tree he claimed with with his initials in the bark. Wilbur had insisted on showing Tommy the sunset that day after watching it himself. The blonde boy was super excited to see what his brother had to show him. He didn’t even care that he didn’t have a jacket to keep him warm in the cold summer breeze.

“We’re almost there, come on Tommy!” Wilbur shouted as they ran up the hill. Finding their tree at the top where no other tree stood. The brunette soon came to a stop, hearing Tommy coming after him as fast as he could. The young boy gazed at the tree, the bright yellow and orange light shined through the leaves down upon them. Tommy laughed as he ran toward the tree after staring at it for a couple of seconds. Wilbur soon chased after him as he ran closer.

“This is AMAZING WILBUR....We need to show Dadza...I want to show Tubbo and Techno. Can we can we please!!” Tommy begged as he held on to Wilbur’s arm. Making the brunette laugh slightly, his hands ruffled up Tommy’s hair before reaching up on to a branch. Wilbur pulled himself up higher in to the tree. Leaving Tommy amazed on the ground as he watched him sit up higher. Wilbur smirked as he held his hand out, meaning he wanted Tommy to join him. The mischievous child smirked as he took a couple of steps back. Running full speed toward the tree, his shoes caught the trunk on a piece of bark as he grabbed a hold of Wilbur’s hand. Having the brunette pull him up to his height and sit down nest to him as they watched the sunset fall.

“We can show them tomorrow if you want to Tommy”

“YES! Thank you Wilby!” Tommy shouted, not even realizing he used his nickname for him. WIlbur laughed softly as he fixed his spot on the tree branch he sat upon. His hand reached in to his pocket and pulled out one of Techno’s knives he used for target practice back at home. He held it out for Tommy to hold, watching his light blue eyes widen in amazement.

“Go on...Write your initials in the tree like I did over here....we’ll get dad and Techno to do it as well” Wilbur replied as he watched the blonde move closer over toward the trunk of the tree. He steadied his hands as he carved a T and an M in to the wood next to Wilbur’s W and M. Except he added Big T underneath his name like he always does with his signature. Th boy looked back at the brunette who smiled at him warmly. A yawn escaped his lips slightly as they sat and watched the sun for a few more minutes in peace.

“Wilbur”

“Yes Tommy?”

“What do you think id going to happen to our initials when we grow older. Will they disappear?”

“No...when we grow older, the tree grows older too. The bark will grow over if we didn’t cut our names deep enough in to the tree”

“Oh......Well I hope when we come back here that they will stay and we can carve them out again” Wilbur smiled softly as he ruffled up Tommy’s hair yet again before jumping back on to the ground. His arms were out wide and waited for the blonde to jump down. Tommy caught what he was trying to do and jumped in to Wilbur’s arms. Not afraid if he was going to drop him or not.

“I hope so too Tommy. This is our own special thing”

“Yeah it is!”

-----

BANG! He was desperate, calling out for anyone. Tubbo, Phil, Techno, Sam, Ranboo, he just needed someone to help him. Some one who cared for his safety, his hope was not all forgotten in this moment. He tried so hard to get out of Dream’s grasp as he held on to him tightly. Leaving bruising from how tight his grip was. No matter how many times Tommy tried, he failed to escape from him. He failed to protect himself all this time, he wasn’t confident in himself fighting Dream. He was much rather terrified then anything else. That’s when his vision started to blur, black dots started to surround his vision around the room. BANG!

-----

“Are you sure Sam if it’s okay that I take a couple minutes for a break” Tommy asked as he walked beside Sam on the path leading to the brand new hotel that had opened up for everyone. Sam smiled softly as he reached over and ruffled up Tommy’s hair slightly. Something Tommy would only let the creeper hybrid do and no one else really at the moment.

“Yes of course I’m sure Tommy, you can always take a break if you need one. I’m not going to make you work if you are tired....Now speaking of breaks, we should probably take care of your hair....Don’t you think it’s getting a little long?” Sam asked as they made it to the front of the hotel with ease. The blonde boy chuckled slightly as he rested his oak logs down by the front he was planning on using later. His wrapped hand reached back and grabbed a hold of his blonde his in a small pony tail. He hasn’t had a haircut since staying at Techno’s house from Phil a couple months back.

“I kind of like the new look Sam....But I probably could have a inch or two cut off....it is starting to get a bit to long for my liking now that I think about it”

“It’s you decision on how you want it Tommy....let me go and grab some scissors real quick so I can help you alright”

“Will do Sam Nook” Tommy smiled softly as he watched him quickly run toward the community house that was rebuilt. The boy sighed softly as he sat down on a chair in the lobby of his hotel. The blonde was so tired of working all day, but was so happy Sam was generous enough to let him rest. He couldn’t have asked for a better mentor and friend by his side. He would never say it but he needed his comfort or else he wouldn’t know where he would be with out him.

-----

“p-please s-stop dream....p-please” Tommy choked out, preparing himself for another blow to his head that came soon after. BANG another time his head was bashed against the wall. Tommy tried as escape once more as he choked on his loss of air. His legs weakly tried to kick Dream in order to break free from him. Yet all the masked villain could do was laugh at his pain and misery as he attempted this plan. Dream took his foot and smashed Tommy’s leg up against the wall forcefully. Breaking the skin on his shins and knees.

-----

“Phil....are you sure that it should be brewd this way....I thought it was with fermented spider eye?”

“Nah mate...in order to make a potion of healing you need nether wart which we just did, glistering melon and glow stone dust to make it a healing potion 2 which I believe is better then a regular one” Phil replied as he pulled out the bottle from the brewing stand and sniffed the top of it. Make sure it was fully brewd this time instead of the last batch he thought was done. Tommy nodded his head slowly as he added the glow stone powder Phil handed him earlier. As he slowly added it in he heard footsteps coming from up stairs. His head jerked to the side and found Techno placing his chest plate on to him self before he slipped his cloak on.

“And where do you think you’re going mate? I thought you were going to take it easy today?” Phil asked without even looking up from his work.

“Going out on a small hunt Phil, shouldn’t take more then an hour out there maybe a bit more. We are running a small bit low on meat and I’m getting sick of eating golden carrots all the time” Techno replied as he rested his cloak on top of his shoulders. Fixing his golden crown on top of his head.

“Can I come too?”

“You want to go hunting? With your loud mouth you’ll scare everything away”

“Oh come on Blade, I’m not that loud”

“There was a spider in your room the other day and you screamed as loud as you could and begged me to kill it”

“T-That is different....I’m not that loud!” Tommy replied, his cheeks red with embarrassment since he knew Phil had no clue about what had happened that night. A nervous laugh left his mouth as he stood there, hearing Phil’s chuckle from behind him. But soon his hand went to his shoulder,

“Come on Techno....I tell you what, you both go hunting and I’ll start making some dinner alright. If you catch anything we’ll add it to the menu. Sound good?” Phil suggested, seeing the look on Techno’s face change. Tommy glanced over at him as he stood by the door, Techno slowly glanced to the side as he rolled his eyes.

“Fine....but I’m not slowing down for you, so you better hurry up before I leave you behind me” Techno replied as he grabbed his boots by the doorway. Smiling softly to himself as he heard Tommy scramble up the stairs behind him to go and grab his gear he needed for the journey.

“He’s growing on you isn’t he?” Tommy could hear Phil’s voice from down the stairs as he was fixing his own chest plate.

“Shut up Phil” Was all Techno replied, making Tommy’s smile grow twice as big then before. It was just like when they were younger again.

-----

BANG.......BANG....The cries soon became quiet after each hit. Tommy’s wrapped hands fell from trying to remove himself from Dream’s grasp around his neck. His arms fell to his sides as his legs gave out underneath him. His body limp as Dream let go, watching his body fall to the floor with a satisfied grin on his face. The message boomed in chat as the notification went wide to everyone that was on or near the area.

Tommyinit was slain by Dream

"It's no problem Tommy, I'm always here for you" Was what the boy thought in the beginning of this madness that surrounded him. His happy thoughts were fresh in his mind as he felt his consciousness slip away from him. Death came knocking at his door in a way he never thought would really happen. He was finally free of the pain that surrounded him, yet unsatisfied with his outcome. He didn’t die a hero, he died a victim that couldn’t do anything to prevent his death. What would everyone else think upon seeing his dead corpse. Yet all of his thoughts were now away from him as darkness surrounded his vision. He felt himself be stretched as he was in the void, a place no one was familiar with. He turned his head back and forth to see if there was anything around him. Anyone for that matter, was he dead? Was his final life taken from him? Tommy sighed as he started to walk forward, with one last turn of his head he stopped and just stared. Stared at the brunette he hasn’t seen in forever. He thought fear would be gone, but it only returned with anxiety as he seen him. Him and his worried and confused stare.

“W-Wilbur?”

“Hello Tommy”

[annab-nana]

Through It All - Colby Brock

You find out some awful news about your best friend but thankfully you have Colby by your side.

Requested by an amazing anon who I’m sending all my love to right now 💙

Warnings: death of a friend; mentions of drunk driving

Word Count: 1.2k+

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

It was a call you hoped you would never have to receive. Or at least, you didn’t think you would receive it so soon. Maybe later down the line when you were older and closer to your own passing. Your mind wouldn’t let you believe the words that came from her mother. You knew they were true because she would never lie to you, especially about something like this, but your brain was having such a difficult time believing it. 

There is no way she is actually gone, right? I mean, you were just on FaceTime with her less than ten hours ago. She was telling you all about how much fun she was having with her family on her trip home. She was missing them so much last week and decided to go visit them. She was with her sisters at the mall and was showing you these new boots that she could not wait to wear. Now you wonder if she even got to wear them. She was always a shoe lover. You had some of her shoes in your closet right now and she will never get them back. 

At least you have something to remember by but now that you are looking around your room, you see that you have a lot of stuff that reminds you of her. Many pictures adorned your walls and there were only a few that didn’t contain her beautiful face in the shot. Each image brings more tears to your eyes, but little chuckles come from you as you look at all the fun memories you two had. Your finger came up to meet a picture of you with your best friend when y’all were small children. Dirt covered your tiny bodies after y’all had a fun day of rough playing in her muddy front yard. You each had bright smiles plastered on your faces and your arms wrapped around each other. 

You turned to your dresser and reached for your jewelry box. Your fingertips grazed the several friendship bracelets that the two of you had made at several summer camps then slid over to a few of those best friend necklaces y’all had gotten from Claire’s. They’d never be the same because the person who had the other half was gone. Your other half was gone.

After slipping a few of those bracelets on, you moved to your bedside table to grab your phone and then made your way to the living room, plopping on the couch. You dialed the number of the only person who could bring you some sort of comfort in your dreaded situation and brought the phone up to your ear with your trembling hand. There were a few rings, as you expected with it being the middle of the night before the deep voice flowed through your ears. 

“Y/n? What’s wrong, baby? It’s the middle of the night.” He knew something was up. You would never call him at this time of night of something was not wrong. 

“Um... Can you come over here please?” Your voice wavered, signaling that more tears were on their way. You could not bring yourself to say the words of what actually occurred to bring you such sorrow. It’s just too much for you at the moment. 

“Of course. I’m on the way right now. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?” Colby was always such a sweetheart, but you did not want him distracted on the road, mainly because you could not lose another person to the carelessness of a drunk driver. 

“No, I’m okay. Just please pay attention,” you pleaded. He assured you that he would give his full attention to the road and those who inhabit it before he said goodbye and ended the call. After placing your phone down next to you, you brought your knees to your chest before completely breaking down. 

It only felt like you had been crying for maybe five minutes when in reality, it had been more like twenty because Colby was already at your door. Colby took in your sad appearance as you fell into his open and comforting arms. He picked you up, shutting the door behind him with his foot, before bringing you to your bed. He laid you down then climbed in behind you. He still doesn’t know what has caused you to be so heartbroken but all he knows is that you need him, and he will be here for you as long as you need. You cry into his chest for God knows how long before you sit up and face him.  

“Uh… she died,” you speak through your scratchy and broken voice as you keep your focus on the worn-out woven threads that were once very vibrant shades of yellow, blue, and white but are now very dull and fraying in places. Colby’s line of sight follows yours to meet the bracelets and he puts the pieces together. 

“Oh babe, I’m so sorry.” Your best friend was as close to you as he was to Sam. In fact, y’all were probably even closer since y’all had literally grown up together. Your mothers were close work friends and got pregnant around the same time. This led to you two becoming basically sisters.  

“It was a drunk driver. She died on impact. There was nothing they could do,” you speak as you meet your boyfriend’s gaze. His bright blue eyes look at you with such sadness as he nods his head at you and pulls you back into him. Tears flow until there are no more left in you and you stare blankly at the wall that is filled with pictures. Your eyes dart to each image and you think back on each memory. From beach trips to parties to sleepovers to your spontaneous photoshoots, the memories bring a small sad smile to your face that rests against Colby’s chest. 

“I miss her, Cole,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. His fingers toy with the ends of your hair as he leans to press a kiss to the top of your head. 

“I know, baby. I know you do,” his voice sounds so low and gentle above your head. You lift your head, resting on your chin so you can look at him. He looks into your eyes before his gaze shifts to a fallen hair that was in your face. His soft fingertips brush on your face as they glide down it to push the hair behind your ear. His fingers trail from behind your ear down your jaw before he brings his thumb across your cheek to wipe away the leftover tears. 

His eyes go back to lock with yours and when he does, the tears come back and your lip quivers. Colby’s arms wrap around you, pulling you up a bit. Your head finds its place in the nook between his neck and shoulder. His hand comfortingly rubbed up and down your back as your body racked with sobs. You knew this was not going to be easy and you would never forget your best friend, but you were so happy to have Colby by your side through it all. 

[lillifaba]

A Very Merry Lurlinemas Eve

A very late, self-indulgent domestic one shot with the Thropp/Tiggular family I wrote for Lurlinemas! Hope you enjoy and have a Happy New Year!

Art by the beautiful @noether3​ ; Full image here! (Be sure to reblog if you like it!)

                                  ┍━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┑

“Yero, did you wrap the presents for Nessa and Boq yet?”

Elphaba hovered over the cradle, gently swinging it back and forth whilst making silly faces and babbling nonsense at the child nestled inside. At just twelve months old, Liir was amused by everything. His big, green eyes glimmered in the light from the fireplace, his mouth in the shape of a small o. He wrapped his tiny fingers around Elphaba’s index and cooed. 

“Yeah! I got them right here-”

He cursed slightly above a whisper when he stumbled into the living room and nearly tripped over his own feet.

“Fiyero!” Elphaba scolded. “Not in front of him! I don’t want his first words to be foul.”

“Sorry,” Fiyero sheepishly chuckled and set the presents under the tree. “It’s not like he can understand what I’m saying. Isn’t that right, little buddy?”

He squatted down and blew raspberries into his soft belly, making him squeal and giggle. Elphaba playfully rolled her eyes, brushing back the short, dark curls that fell over Liir’s forehead. She pinched his chubby cheek and got up to look at the haphazardly wrapped gifts Fiyero placed below the tree. 

“... Please tell me there’s still left over wrapping paper.”

Fiyero looked over his shoulder, still in the midst of a tickle fight with Liir. “Hm? You don’t like the way I wrapped the presents?”

“Yero, I say this with all the love in my heart... it looks like you layered the paper around the box several times and slapped a ribbon atop it.”

He feigned offense. “Fae! How could you? I’m wounded by your horrendible words!” 

“Oh Fiyero…” She sighed defeatedly.

“I’m kidding... Come on, what difference does it make? They’re going to be ripped apart tomorrow— why stress out over how the wrapping paper looks?”

“It shows that we put some thought into their gifts and didn’t wrap them up at the last second.” She stripped away a piece of excess tape stuck to the shiny emerald paper.

“Well, we technically did- but they’ll get over it once they see what they get. I can already hear Glinda screaming for joy when she opens hers.”

Elphaba rearranged the small, pink gift bag that contained the jewelry set for the petite blonde. It was true, they both put a lot of thought into what they planned to gift their loved ones.

“Well… I suppose you’re right,” She smiled up at him. “Thank you for wrapping the presents, Fiyero.”

“You’re welcome,” Fiyero walked over to her, Liir in his arms. “I must be the luckiest man in Oz to have the most patient wife, right Liir?”

Liir babbled nonsense in response. 

“See? He agrees.” Fiyero planted a sweet kiss on her cheek. 

“Of course he does, he has my brains.” She quipped. 

“Oh ha-ha...” 

They took a moment to gaze at the tree. Liir’s eyes twinkled at the dozens of multicolored lights glowing on the branches. His tiny hands reached out to grab an ornament doll made of tin. Elphaba gently pulled his wrist back before he inevitably put it in his mouth.

“Y’know… this’ll be the only time we’ll have for ourselves,” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Tomorrow will be one big day of festivating with the others.”

Elphaba hummed in agreement, stroking his cheek affectionately.

“-Hey, what do you say we celebrate a little early— just the three of us?” He suggested.

Elphaba looked at him, perplexed. “You mean… open our presents right now?” She quirked an eyebrow in doubt. “Shouldn’t we wait for everyone until tomorrow morning as courtesy?”

“No, no- just one present each!” Fiyero assured. “It’s a huge pile, no one’s gonna notice if a box or two is missing. Besides, with all the guests in one room, how will I get to see the absolute look of joy on your face when you open my gift?” He lightly squeezed Liir’s cheek and spoke in an adoring voice, “-and our boy has been good all year round! Well, aside from throwing up all over my dress shirt last week.”

“Oh, he didn’t mean to do that,” Elphaba smooched her son’s temple. “Maybe papa shouldn’t have spun you in the air right after you ate.” 

Fiyero winced at the statement. “Alright, that was on me- but the point is he deserves one early gift tonight!” Speaking in his baby voice, he smiled down at Liir. “You wanna see what Lurline brought you this year?”

Not comprehending any of his words, Liir incoherently blabbered. Fiyero took that as an agreement and plucked something out from the tiniest stocking hanging above the fireplace. He hid it behind his back as he returned, bending his knees to be at eye level with the child.

Fiyero presented a plush doll: a cutesyfied monkey with small wings stitched to his back and a friendly smile. “Look! This is for you!”

Elphaba played up her excitement at the toy, lightly bouncing Liir in her arms and coaxing him to look at it. The young boy looked unfamiliar with it at first, not sure what it was exactly. When his mother didn’t stop his tiny hands from touching it, he grasped it. A slow smile grew on his face, followed by giggles.

“Happy Lurlinemas, Liir.” Fiyero kissed his cheek. 

“Say thank you to papa,” Elphaba encouraged. The infant was far too preoccupied with his new toy to even acknowledge her. “I guess we’ll have to work on expressing gratitutions later…”

“He’ll learn.” Fiyero promised. He beamed brightly and ruffled his messy, raven hair.

“Well, since we’re at it,” Elphaba carefully handed Liir over to him. “I’ve got something I hope you’ll like.”

“Fae, you could give me a pebble as a gift and I’ll love it.” 

She leaned down and reached behind the tree. “That’s quite the reassurement, but I promise I got you something one step above a pebble,”

Wrapped in shiny emerald paper with a gold bow on top, Elphaba handed him a small box. “Happy Lurlinemas.”

Fiyero eagerly took it and lightly shook the box next to his ear. He handed Liir back to her and tore it open, revealing a gold wrist watch with a green dial. There were five, smaller sub-dials inside the watch, each one labeling the time of day for all the provinces in Oz. 

“Elphaba…” Fiyero carefully held the watch in his hand, examining it in pure adoration. “This is... I can’t even begin to describe it-”

“Do you like it? I wasn’t sure if it was something you’d wear daily.”

“Elphaba, I love it! It’s beautiful! Thank you, my dearest.” He placed a peck on her lips. With her help, he secured the watch around his wrist and basked in its glory. “-Speaking of which, I’ve been waiting all year to see your reaction to what I’ve got for you.”

“Is that so?” Elphaba watched him scour through the presents until he said “Aha!” when he found a medium sized box. 

“Here...” Fiyero sat cross legged on the floor. Elphaba followed suit and passed Liir over to sit on his lap, taking the somewhat heavy box in her hands 

“What’s this?” Her brown eyes lit up with curiosity. 

“Open it and see for yourself!” Fiyero grinned. 

A smile grew on Elphaba’s face. She tore away the gold wrapping paper, revealing a wooden box. Confused, she unlocked the latch and opened the lid. When she removed the bright blue fabric on top of her gift, she gasped in disbelief.

They were ruby slippers. Nearly identical to the silver slippers her sister owned. Elphaba had once brought up to Fiyero the time her father gifted Nessa the priceless pair of shoes as a parting gift at Shiz. While she did not care for extravagant shoewear, she remembered how hurt she felt when Frex didn’t give her something as little as a postcard. 

At the time, it felt like a stab to the heart, seeing Nessa look so beautiful and elegant in her new slippers while Elphaba lugged around in worn out boots like a beggar. It was a painful reminder of how low she thought of herself before she found the people she loved the most in life.

Elphaba couldn’t hold back her tears, her fingers hovering over the red jewels. “Yero… I- I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything…  your face speaks a thousand words.”

Elphaba placed the shoes to the side and frantically wrapped her arms around him. Fiyero placed a hand on the small of her back, laughing wholeheartedly at the kisses she planted all over his face.  

Below them, Liir cried out. Elphaba cupped his cheek and placed soft kisses on his tender face as well.

“Oh, I didn’t forget about you.” She spoke sweetly, smothering him in kisses. 

“Happy Lurlinemas to my most beautiful wife and son.” Fiyero said.

“Your only wife and son.” Elphaba teased.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He helped her remove her booties and slipped her shoes on. They were the perfect fit, comfortably tailored to her size. She stared at them in admiration, once more thanking her husband with kisses. 

The pair spent their evening playing with their child, enjoying the sacred time they had together.

                                     ┍━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┑

Thanks for reading! I’m sorry this is probably not my best work and that it was posted a little late in the season. This was mostly a self-indulgent fluff fic I’ve been meaning to write since I see so little of the Thropp/Tiggular + Liir family dynamic. I’m also technically still a little new to publishing fiyeraba fics that maintain their characters. Bear with me please haha ;; 

Thank you again to Emma for the beautiful art! Show your love by reblogging and commissioning her if you can!

[emospritelet]

Heatstroke - chapter 8

*snickers*

[AO3]

x

“Here.” Sidney Glass dropped a file on her desk, making Lacey look up. “Next assignment.”

She sat back slowly, picking up the file and raising an eyebrow.

“So what is it this time?” she asked. “Flower-arranging at the local church? First prize in the pumpkin-growing contest?”

“Pumpkins aren’t in season yet.”

“Then the story will only be slightly more boring than it otherwise would be.”

Sidney sighed.

“I have no idea why you even moved here if you find it so dull,” he said. “Wouldn’t you have more fun in the city?”

She gave him an amused look.

“Would you believe me if I said I actually wanted a quiet life?”

“Not really.”

“It’s true,” she insisted. “Or at least it’s mostly true. I grew up in a small town. Being back in one is kind of - it’s like I’m a teenager again, so I’m rebelling against it even though I know it’s a good place to live, you know?”

“Good,” said Sidney. “In that case you won’t mind writing a piece on Zelena West’s charity work.”

“Charity work,” Lacey snorted. “She’s a mean-spirited witch.”

“True enough, but she still organises the food drive every year.”

“Probably because it’s the only way she can hold any power over people,” said Lacey. “I bet she takes the best stuff for herself.”

“Get some proof of that and the piece might get interesting,” said Sidney. “In the meantime just stick to the brief.” 

“Five times Zelena West didn’t get bitch-slapped for talking shit about people and one time she did?” suggested Lacey.

Sidney chuckled as he sat back down at his desk, sending her an amused look.

“I’d read that,” he said. “But she’s going beyond the food drive this year. A charity dance. All profits to the church outreach program.”

“Wow.” Lacey pursed her lips. “She trying to bang the priest?”

“I doubt it,” said Sidney, shuddering. “She’s been trying to get her claws into Mr Gold.”

“Really?” Lacey sat up, an odd sensation going through her. It almost felt like outrage, which she couldn’t understand. “She had any success?”

“What do you think?” he said dryly, and she nodded, settling back in the chair.

“Okay, I’ll interview her,” she said. “If she’ll talk to me.”

“Good.”

There was a moment of silence. Sidney tapped at something on his keyboard, glancing at the screen in front of him. Lacey pondered the unwelcome image of Zelena West throwing herself at Gold, and shuddered just as Sidney had. Not that Zelena was unattractive. Just unstable. Lacey got the feeling she didn’t easily take a hint, and she was almost intrigued to know what Gold’s response to her would be.

It had been several days since she had come across Gold naked at the cabin. Clearly the guy was comfortable letting everything hang out. Maybe that was how he relaxed. She supposed she could understand that. It wasn’t as though it had been an unpleasant sight, anyway, just - unexpected. She still hadn’t summoned the courage to go and apologise to him, and told herself they had both been busy.

“So,” said Lacey, putting her feet up on the desk and her arms behind her head. “Mr Gold. What’s his deal?”

Sidney looked surprised at the question.

“Well, he’s landlord for most of Storybrooke,” he said. “Owns a pawnshop, richest guy in town…”

“No.” She shook her head. “I mean, what’s his history? He married? Single?”

Sidney’s surprise turned into alarm.

“Please don’t tell me you’re planning on hitting on him.”

“What? No!” Lacey was surprised at her own vehemence. “No, it’s not like that. I’m just - interested, that’s all. He seems like kind of a loner.”

“Well, he keeps to himself, that’s for sure,” said Sidney. 

“That has to get to you, after a while,” observed Lacey, tapping a pen against her lower lip. “Alone every night, only your own thoughts for company… You think he’s into anything weird?”

“Oh, I can’t begin to tell you how much I do not want to think about that,” muttered Sidney, and Lacey smirked.

“That’s not a no.”

Sidney sighed, slapping a file down on her desk.

“I don’t know a thing about Gold’s private life,” he said. “No one does. He keeps it - well, private.”

“So he could spend every Friday night dressed in leather and riding a huge butt plug and no one in town would know?”

“Oh my…” Sidney ran his hands over his face. “I’m gonna need bleach to get rid of that mental image.”

“You’re welcome.”

Lacey snickered, and Sidney shook his head.

“Look, aside from being a hardass with people who don’t pay their rent, he’s quiet and reserved and spends every hour holed up in the pawn shop,” he said. “He’s a generous donor to Storybrooke General Hospital, particularly the children’s ward. He takes a walk every morning and gets coffee at Granny’s. About as straight-laced as you can get.”

“It’s always the quiet ones.”

Sidney sighed, shaking his head.

“Okay, you want to cover something more interesting than the church fundraiser, and I want to pretend this conversation never happened,” he said. “How about we make a deal?”

Lacey perked up.

“Really?” she said. “What deal?”

“Simple,” said Sidney. “Get Gold to give you an interview.”

Lacey felt her face fall.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“You get him to agree to sit down and talk to you for half an hour, you’ll do something no one else at the Mirror ever has,” said Sidney. “Make it something personal and I’ll even give you a raise.”

“But he hates me,” she complained.

“Why would he hate you?”

Lacey shrank down in the chair a little.

“We kind of - got off on the wrong foot,” she muttered, and he shrugged.

“Guess you can’t want that raise too much.”

“Okay, not so fast,” she said, sitting up again. “I’m not saying I won’t do it, I’m just saying - well, it’s not gonna be easy, that’s all.”

“Nothing worthwhile ever is,” said Sidney. “So I’m told.”

x

Gold made his way up the path, wincing at every step. His leg had been giving him hell all day, and he suspected that it meant rain was coming. It was a night for taking a couple of painkillers, drinking whisky and losing himself in a good book while he waited for them to take effect.

He mounted the steps, pausing when he saw a cardboard box in front of the door. Probably his delivery of special ingredients from August’s in Boston. He found that Storybrooke could satisfy most of his culinary needs, by and large, but there were things he couldn’t get in town, like dried porcini, smoked paprika and loose-leaf Earl Grey tea. Smiling at the thought of the things he could make with the box contents, he opened the front door, scooped up the box and went inside.

It had been a long day, and he went straight to the kitchen, dropping the box onto the table and pouring himself a glass of wine before shrugging out of his coat. Taking a sip, he pulled a knife from the wooden block and sliced open the tape sealing the box. The contents made him frown; he was used to gleaming jars of ingredients nestled in packing noodles. This box was padded with scrunched up brown paper, wedged around boxes containing - oh.

Gold withdrew one of the boxes, a full ten inches, the cardboard thick and gleaming, silky to the touch. On the box was a picture of an anatomically-improbable plastic penis, the text on the box boasting ‘realistic feel and ten-speed vibration’. He dropped it back, picking up a smaller, square box with a bright pink wand made of curved silicone. Intense clitoral stimulation for rapid climax, announced the box. Perfect for solo play.

Gold pushed the box back in amongst the brown paper, flipping the lid closed again and eyeing the label that he hadn’t bothered to check. Miss L French. Of course.

He could feel his cheeks heating, and a vision of Lacey using the products on herself burst into full colour in his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying and failing to dispel it and cursing the telltale twitch of his cock. The image changed, and to his dismay he realised he was imagining himself using the toys on a very naked Lacey, her body undulating against his as she moaned in pleasure. His cock began to swell, and Gold shook his head, remembering the look on her face when she had seen him naked, the disparaging words she had used to describe the encounter to Miss Lucas. The images disappeared at once, and he sagged in relief. Sighing to himself, he was about to seek out some tape to seal the box again when he paused, fingers drumming against the sides. Fuck it. I’m taking it over there now. If she’s the one embarrassed by our encounter it’ll make a bloody change.

x

Lacey peered inside the fridge, chewing her lip and trying to decide which of the unappetising contents to have for dinner. She really needed to go grocery shopping, but kept forgetting that Storybrooke’s stores didn’t stay open late. One drawback of being in a small town. 

She closed the fridge door and opened the freezer section. God, not frozen pizza again! Jesus, Lacey, get your life together. The cat eats better than you.

As though he had heard her thoughts, Darcy appeared at her feet, mewing, and she sighed, pulling out a pizza box and dropping it on the counter.

“I have to learn to cook something more than omelettes,” she told him.

Darcy stood on his back legs, paws against the fridge, and Lacey grinned.

“Okay, let’s feed you first, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

She gave him a pouch of food, and although he sniffed at it cautiously, he settled down to eat. She wasn’t sure where his recent lack of appetite had come from, but he was in good condition, so if he wasn’t eating what she put down, he was clearly eating somewhere else. A knock at the door made her glance around, and she headed for the hallway, pausing as she recognised the silhouette of her neighbour, cane held a little out to the side. Lacey took a deep breath, fists opening and closing, and nodded to herself. Well, he’s here. You may as well apologise. Suck it up, girl.

She strode towards the door before she could think about it too much, wrenching it open and nodding at Mr Gold. He was carrying a cardboard box in one arm, his gaze steady.

“Hey,” she said abruptly, and Gold showed his teeth.

“Miss French," he said. "I apologise for disturbing your evening.” 

The words weren’t said in the stiff, terse way she was used to. Instead they seemed to flow, dark and soft, like black silk. Idly, she wondered if he wore underwear that matched his silk shirts.

“Yeah, you interrupted a heavy evening of heating up frozen pizza and drinking wine,” she said. “What can I do for you?”

He glanced down at the box, then back up. There was a gleam in his eyes she hadn’t seen before, and she wasn’t sure if it was amusement. The corner of his mouth pulled up in a smirk.

“I appear to have something of yours,” he said. “I was expecting a delivery, and so I opened it without checking the address label. My apologies.”

Lacey shrugged.

“Sure. No problem. Happens to all of us, I guess…”

Her voice trailed off, a heavy weight sinking into the pit of her stomach as she recalled what she had been expecting to arrive that week. A shipment of sex toys for a freelance review piece she was doing. A blush rose in her cheeks, and Gold’s smile grew.

“I’ll leave these with you, then,” he said, handing her the box. “Do enjoy your evening, won’t you?”

He bowed his head, heading down the porch steps and swaggering back to the house. She was desperately trying to think of something clever to say, but her brain had gone blank.

"Well, I will now!" she shouted, and he glanced over his shoulder, grinning widely. The bastard.

Lacey slammed the front door, leaned back against the wall with the box in her hands, and waited for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

She still hadn’t apologised.

[crescent-quill-writings]

The Best Way to Break Tradition

Fandom: Hamilton - Miranda

Words: 6784

Relationship: Thomas Jefferson/Hercules Mulligan

Additional tags: Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, Smut, Morning After, Modern AU

A/N: (belated) Merry Christmas, everyone! Have a happy holidays and a hopeful New Year ^-^

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

“Well, we’re here… When does your flight depart?”

“In just about an hour. I should probably go, get through security before I end up late.”

“Yeah, I guess you should…”

Every year Thomas would drive James down to the airport to catch his flight down south. Every year Thomas would try to convince his best friend to stay for the holidays, and every year James would leave to be with his family. Every year they had this conversation, and every year it ended the same way.

It was like a strange, sad Christmas tradition.

“But you still have a little bit of time, right? Do you wanna grab a farewell coffee?”

“Thomas, don’t do this,” James sighed with a shake of his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “My parents have invited me over for Christmas, everyone will be there. You know that family is complicated, I can’t just ditch them last minute.”

“And you know this isn’t easy for me,” Thomas refutes with a huff and a sharp glare that was met with crossed arms from James. “At least you’re wanted by them…”

James could only sigh again, his expression softening as he placed a hand on his friend’s arm. “They’ve always said they’d be more than happy to see you too. You don’t need to spend Christmas up here alone.”

“Family is complicated,” Thomas echoes, shaking his head as if it would physically rid him of the thought of his own family before beginning to get out of the car.

They went quiet again as James followed suit, waiting as Thomas retrieved his rolling suitcase and book bag from the trunk.

“Text me when you land?”

“Of course,” James affirmed with a nod as he took his bags. “I’ll be back just after New Years'.”

“Yeah, just like last year,” Thomas murmured with an awkward shift as he rubbed his arm. “Have a safe flight and a Merry Christmas and all that…”

James simply nodded in response as the two friends shared a final, awkward, and unsure parting glance. Thomas watched as James turned and began to walk away, not moving until the airport’s automatic doors had slid closed behind his friend.

He wasn’t sure why he always waited until James was out of sight. Perhaps he hoped that one of these years James would change his mind at the last minute, or maybe his flight would be cancelled and he’d have to stay another day.

Whatever Thomas wished for, it never came true. Just like the year before, he was always left alone as he slowly drove away.

 *~*~*~*~*~*

 A few days had passed since James had left for Virginia. Thomas never responded to any of the texts he sent, just staring at the well-wishes from down south and the photos of the Madison family’s celebrations.

With Christmas just around the corner, Thomas did his best to hide away from the holiday cheer. It was hard to be festive when you’d be spending the season alone.

“Junk, coupons, bill, junk…” He listed off his mail with a frown, flipping through the envelopes left at his door and tossing them onto his kitchen table. “… And this.”

Thomas paused as he turned the blue envelope over in his hands. He could recognize the handwriting on the back any day. It was an invitation from Lafayette to attend his annual Christmas party.

With a sigh, he moved to toss the letter in the trash. Another strange, sad Christmas tradition.

Even if Thomas knew, or at least assumed, what the invitation contained he decided to humour his foreign friend just this once. After all, what harm could some textbook holiday greetings and Christmas wishes do?

He slipped his finger under the edge of the envelope and ripped the blue paper open, tossing it in the trash. As he read, he wandered into the living room and found himself pacing in front of the fireplace.

 Mon beaux ami,

I know that you will most likely never read this like all the other years… Still, should you ever change your mind I am hosting a party for family and friends on Christmas Eve. There will be a buffet dinner, open bar, and as always, people who will be very happy to see you. All I ask is that you give it a chance. Perhaps it’ll be easier to enjoy the holidays with a companion, non?

Either way, I hope to see you at my house at seven o’clock sharp. Don’t be late!

Your friend, Gilbert

 Thomas stopped as he read over the last few lines, the paper crumpling around his fingers as his grip tightened. He’d never even considered that Lafayette took the time to personalize his invitation, nor that he would notice his absence when there were so many other people attending the party.

With a deep sigh, he rooted a hand in his curls, nodding slowly as he closed his eyes.

“Just this once… Just one little break in tradition.” He murmured to himself as he folded up the invitation and grabbed his keys.

Thomas had some Christmas shopping to do and there was only one place that’d be reliably open this late into the holiday season: the liquor store.

He knew he’d need to get something from the top shelf. It was the least he could do after all the years he’d missed. Lafayette liked sweet more than savoury, though he probably had enough wine from his home country to last a lifetime. Thomas figured a nice bourbon would do, or maybe something foreign and fancy-sounding like blue absinthe.

Thomas ended up buying both and picked up a box of Merci chocolates on his way home, just to be safe.

With a nice bag and a couple of bows, it would’ve looked like he planned this from the beginning. At least, that’s what Thomas hoped. He wasn’t sure if dessert and booze was the best way to make up for several missed Christmases, but it was the best shot he had.

 *~*~*~*~*~*

 Standing in front of Lafayette’s door with his last-minute present in one hand and the other raised to knock, Thomas still hesitated.

Luck would have it that the weather combined with a miscalculation of his GPS made him more than an hour late. Lafayette must have already assumed he wasn’t going to show up, meaning that Thomas couldn’t be sure how the Frenchman would react to him showing up. It was tempting just to turn around, forget he ever changed his mind and enjoy the booze and chocolates in the comfort of his own, lonely home.

“You’re a coward, Jefferson,” Thomas muttered as he closed his eyes, knocking on the door before he could second guess himself again.

While he waited for someone to answer he listened to the sounds of muffled conversation accompanied by occasional laughter. Whoever was inside seemed to be having a good enough time without him, and as the minutes passed with no answer he began to regret ever changing his mind about the holidays.

Just as Thomas began to turn away there was a click behind the door before it swung open. Standing there with surprise in his eyes was none other than Lafayette.

“Hi… Sorry I’m late--”

“Thomas!” The Frenchman cheered, pulling his friend into a hug that ended before it ever really began. “Do not apologize, I am just happy to see you. How long have you been standing here? Come inside, it is too cold to keep you waiting any longer.”

Thomas tried not to think too much about the hug, instead, he just smiled and let himself be happy about not having to stand out in the snow anymore. “I, uh, I got you something. It’s not much but it’s… something.”

Lafayette took the shin red bag the southerner was holding and tilted his head while he inspected its contents. “You just being here is more than enough. Let me take your coat, and please, make yourself at home.”

Thomas smiled a bit more as he shrugged off his coat, watching Lafayette walk off before he turned his gaze to the other guests.

He knew Lafayette had a big family and even larger social circles, but Thomas only recognize about a quarter of the people present. If he already felt like a third wheel, now he was no better than a stranger.

With a deep breath, Thomas slipped off his boots and tried to casually pass by the various congregations and conversations dotted around the room. He saw a drunken Alexander flirting relentlessly with a relatively sober Aaron Burr by the Christmas tree. He saw the Schuyler sisters chatting with Maria and a blonde that he assumed to be Adrienne, one of Lafayette’s childhood friends. He saw John Laurens ducking under Lafayette’s arm with a pair of champagne glasses while the Frenchman introduced him to a series of aunts, uncles, and cousins. It seemed that everyone had a friend, family member, or lover to spend their time with.

Everyone except Thomas.

With that spirit-lifting conclusion Thomas decided it best he made his way to the food and booze. He picked at some of the fondue options first, dipping a few strawberries and pineapple slices under the free-flowing chocolate before the sugar became too much. He went searching for something more savoury, only to find that either the other guests had eaten them all, or there were no savoury options to begin with.

“I knew Gil had a sweet tooth, but this is just excessive,” he muttered with a shake of his head as he turned his attention to the booze.

As he was looking through the alcoholic options, he found the bourbon and blue absinthe he’d brought with him to the party. He gave a dry laugh at the sight, shaking his head as he set down the blueberry wine he was considering and poured himself a glass of bourbon. He didn’t blame Lafayette for the decision he made, he couldn’t, and at least this way he wouldn’t feel guilty for drinking all of his friend’s booze.

It was stronger than wine anyways, and Thomas needed stronger.

He finished the first glass quickly and quietly, wanting to be drunk before he let himself try and enjoy the amber liquid. As he sipped at his second glass, he scanned the room again with a small frown. Even in a room full of happy faces and cheery conversation he was alone for the holidays.

At least he had good taste in bourbon.

As Thomas was wallowing in self-pity and jealousy a giant of a man began to approach. He browsed through his options with pursed lips, whistling when he noticed the bright bottle of blue absinthe.

The sound startled Thomas, his bourbon sloshing in his glass as he suddenly stood up straight and took in the stranger’s appearance.

Thomas had heard a lot of people described as being built like a tank but by god did this man live up to it. He was about a foot taller than Thomas, who stood at a clean 6’3” in his own right, with broad shoulders and muscular arms that could barely be contained by the classic ugly Christmas sweater he was wearing.

He realized he was staring when he made eye contact with the stranger, though the moment ended when he quickly tried to distract himself with his drink.

“Just when I thought this party could use a pick me up you show your stunning little face,” The stranger spoke as he grabbed himself a shot glass and uncapped the bottle of blue absinthe. Seeing Thomas’ confusion out of the corner of his eye he flashed the man a grin. “I was talking to the booze, not you. Unless you’d like me to call you stunning too.”

“Are you drunk?” Thomas blurts, a little put-off by how charismatically carefree the stranger was being.

“A little, but not as drunk as I will be,” He replied with a shrug before tossing back the shot and swallowing it without a quiver. “The name’s Hercules, by the way.”

“Thomas Jefferson.” The southerner introduced as he watched Hercules pour himself more of the blue absinthe to sip on. “Y’know, that stuff’s, like, eighty percent alcohol, right? It might be better to stick with the shot glasses.”

“Eh, I’m Irish, and this is a taste of home. I’ll be fine. Probably,” Hercules replied, flashing Thomas another one of his stunning grins. “Don’t know how Laf got his hands on it, though, haven’t seen any kind of absinthe since I moved over here.”

“I brought it, actually,” Thomas admitted with a small clear of his throat and a little smile, lowering his glass to meet Hercules’ gaze. “The liquor stores uptown keep some stock of fancy foreign-sounding things. Luck would have it I decided on that one.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.” The Irishman replied, taking a sip of his drink before he moved to lean against the wall with Thomas.

They were quiet for a few minutes, both sipping at their respective drinks as they watched the party unfold in front of them. Alexander and Aaron had started slow dancing, much to the former’s chagrin. John was sitting on Lafayette’s lap teasing him by telling stories to a handful of the Frenchman’s siblings and their significant others. Adrienne and Maria had found a quiet corner to talk in while Eliza sat back as Peggy and Angelica flirted with Lafayette’s cousins.

“They seem to be having fun,” Hercules commented after a moment, bringing Thomas’ focus back to him.

“Yeah, seems they are…” The southerner replied with a small sigh, watching his bourbon as he twirled his glass before taking another sip. “You could join them, have fun too.”

“And miss out on the show? No thanks,” Hercules replied with a rumbling laugh, tilting his head back as he sighed before slowly shaking his head. “Really, though, they all got their own thing going on. I’d just get in the way.”

“Aren’t they your friends?” Thomas asked, lowering his glass again as he tried to decipher the far-away look in the Irishman’s eyes.

“Well, sure. I’m their rock, the ‘dad friend,’ the one they go to when they need advice, but…” Hercules trailed off for a moment, hesitating to continue before he took a drink of the blue absinthe. “That’s kinda it.”

From the way Thomas’ brow had furrowed in confusion Hercules could tell that he didn’t quite understand. With a sigh, he began to motion between his friends that made up the various couples in the room.

“Alex couldn’t tell if he was obsessed with Aaron because of love or hate before I stepped in. I told John that Gil already adored him when he was freaking out ‘cause he thought his feelings were one-sided. The Schuyler’s- Well, they don’t really need my help, but they still like to hear my advice. And just tonight I helped Maria work up the courage to introduce herself to Adr- Adrie- Blondie over there. My job is done.”

“You forgot to save someone for yourself, is that it?” Thomas concluded with a frown, watching as Hercules began to nod.

“Basically, yeah. It’s kinda sad, isn’t it?” The Irishman commented with a dry laugh before he took a swig of his drink, nearly finishing it in one gulp. “I get all these couples together and at the end of the day I’m still alone.”

“I get the feeling, sort of,” Thomas admitted as he cleared his throat, regretting trying to follow suit and finish his bourbon in one go. “Mainly the alone part… this is my first time at one of these parties, actually. Usually, I just spend the holidays holed up at home.”

“Guess this year we get to be alone together,” Hercules hummed, grinning as he knocked their glasses together before tossing back the rest of his booze. “I’ll drink to that.”

“Yeah…” Thomas murmured, only taking a small sip of his bourbon as he began to space out.

Instead of calming his nerves, the alcohol only made his anxieties worse. The southerner couldn’t reason why he’d just shared some of his biggest fears with a man he just met or why Hercules had told him most of his. It had to be sympathy, or empathy, or pity or something else like it. He was drunk, not a thesaurus! Whatever it was, Thomas had convinced himself that it would only end in him getting hurt.

“Excuse me,” Thomas spoke as he abruptly set his glass down, already beginning to walk away from Hercules before he continued. “I should- I gotta go.”

“Wait, what? Why? Was it something I said?” Hercules began to ask, but his questions fell on deaf ears.

Thomas was already lost in an ocean of his anxieties as he rushed to the front door, bumping into a few people on the way as he stumbled past congregations and couples.

He was almost at the front door when he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder and met with a pair of worried eyes.

“Thomas, is everything alright? You’ve gotten yourself in such a hurry…” the Frenchman commented with a sigh, reaching to cup Thomas’ cheek and focus his gaze before his hand was pushed away.

“Nothing I just- figured I should be getting home,” Thomas replied, hoping his words weren’t too slurred as he forced a smile. “The party was good- great. I’ll drop by again next year.”

“Mon beaux, wait. Please,” Lafayette begged, grabbing onto Thomas’ wrist before he could run any father. “I’m not going to let one of my friends try to drive home drunk in this kind of weather, it’s a death wish. Stay for the night, I insist. You can go home after breakfast.”

Before Thomas could come up with something in his defence Hercules was standing behind them, awkwardly opening and closing his mouth as he tried to find something to say. “Are you… Okay?”

“Everything is fine, mon nounours,” Lafayette filled in with a little smile, though there was a glint of something coy in his eyes. “I was just telling Thomas that he should rest before he ends up too hungover. Could you do me a favour and set him up in one of the guest bedrooms? The one right next to the master should be just fine.”

“Yeah, sure, I gotcha,” The Irishman replied with a clear of his throat and a nod, looking to Thomas with an apologetic smile before placing a hand on his shoulder and leading him away from the party.

As the sound of chatter and laughter slowly faded, Thomas wasn’t sure if he wanted to curse Lafayette or thank him. He was drunk and about to be alone with a very handsome man he somehow managed to personally connect with.

Things were about to go very, very wrong or very, very right.

 *~*~*~*~*~*

 Both Hercules and Thomas were quiet, awkward as they found their way up the stairs to the bedrooms. Neither were entirely sober and Lafayette’s house, which he inherited from some rich great uncle, was large enough to make it a task for them to find the guest bedroom the Frenchman had directed them to.

“I think this one’s it,” Hercules muttered as he scratched the back of his head. “Guess that means you’re all set for the night…”

“Yeah, guess I am,” Thomas murmured, voice breathy and barely above a whisper as he rubbed his arm.

He’d gotten scared earlier because Hercules had gotten close. Now that they had been pushed back together, the thought of coming so close to… something only to end up alone on Christmas Eve again was even more terrifying.

They both opened their mouth to speak at the same time, then they shut themselves up to let the other speak first. It made them laugh, the sound was nervous and awkward yet still genuine.

Thomas made a motion for Hercules to speak first, and the Irishman obliged.

“Listen, I don’t really know what happened downstair but I know I had to have done something, so,” He started, clearing his throat a little to give him time to figure out his next words. “I guess I’m trynna say sorry? You’re a good guy- a great guy and I made a shitty first impression and I really wish I had a do-over or something right now to make it up to you.”

Hercules was rambling, whether from the alcohol or because he was genuinely nervous Thomas couldn’t tell. Still, it made him smile as he placed a hand on the Irishman’s arm to calm him down. “You’re fine, you didn’t do anything I just… freaked. No real reason for it.”

It was a lie. A little white lie, but a lie nonetheless. If Hercules pried, he could probably blame it on too much booze. Thankfully the Irishman just sighed in relief before flashing Thomas one of those carefree, charismatic grins of his.

“Guess that settles it, then.”

Their resolution was mutual, but neither made a move to leave.

Thomas kept his hand on Hercules’ arm, trying to subtly feel the muscles beneath his sleeve as the Irishman grinned and took a step closer. Nothing was ever really subtle when you’re drunk, after all.

“Is this where we’re supposed to say goodnight? Go about our lives?” Thomas asked as he traced the colourful pattern of Hercules’ sweater, coaxing him into stepping closer.

“Supposed to and have to are two very different things,” Hercules replied with a low laugh, placing a hand on the southerner’s hip. “I mean, we’re adults, we can make our own decisions.”

“That’s true, so what do you want to do?” Thomas hummed, looking up to meet Hercules’ gaze, swallowing thickly as he watches his words ignite something in the Irishman’s eyes.

There was a moment of silence as Thomas licked his lips, tightening glancing down over Hercules’ broad chest as he pulled at his sleeve. The action made Hercules laugh, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

In a moment Thomas was gasping as he was pushed back against the door and Hercules caught his lips in a hungry kiss. He gave into it. He gave more than he thought he could into a single kiss as he clung onto Hercules’ shoulders and lifted a leg to wrap around his waist. Hercules was more than happy to help, squeezing his ass as his hands hooked under the southerner’s thighs and lifted him up off the ground.

Before it would’ve scared Thomas how easily he preened under every touch and practically purred as Hercules tugged at his lower lip with his teeth. He was vulnerable, at the mercy of Hercules’ every little whim, and he was loving it.

Every moment they spent pressed together, tongues tangled as they tugged at each other’s clothes were just as intoxicating as the absinthe on the Irishman’s lips.

Thomas was left panting as Hercules broke the kiss to run his teeth over his ear and fumbled with the doorknob as the southerner tugged at his sweater. He gave his ass another squeeze as a tease before he dropped him on the bed.

Thomas couldn’t help but whine as he lost the contact he so desperately needed, only end up swallowing thickly as Hercules made quick work of his sweater.

“Like what you see?” The Irishman laughed as he flexed his arms above his head.

Thomas would be lying if he said anything other than a resounding yes. “Fuck. You could bench press me without even breaking a sweat!”

His comment made Hercules laugh again. It started as a low rumble in his chest before it turned into a hearty bellow that vibrated within Thomas’ core. “Y’know, of all the things I’ve heard, that’s a first.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Thomas asked, shifting onto his knees as the mattress bent under Hercules’ weight.

“Nah, it’s a good thing,” The Irishman reassured as he pulled Thomas into his lap and had him straddle his hips. “Means that you’re gonna make this fun.”

His comment made Thomas laugh this time, tucking his face into the crook of Hercules’ neck. The Irishman made an almost purr-like hum in response as he wrapped his arms tight around his waist and kept Thomas close even as he began to paint bitemarks and hickeys along his jaw and down from his pulse point. All the attention was wonderful, and by god did Thomas want more, but no matter how tempting it was to tilt his head back and let Hercules have at it he couldn’t bring himself to move.

A sob echoed in the room over the sound of lips and teeth against skin. Thomas wanted to ignore it, pressing closer to the Irishman to try and coax him into continuing.

He didn’t realize that the sob came from him until Hercules pulled back with worried-looking eyes.

“You doing alright?” He asked quietly as he began, hesitantly loosening his hold.

“Yeah, I’m just fine,” Thomas replied, forcing a smile as he pretended he didn’t have to swallow back another sob to keep his words from wavering. “We’re good, we’re great. Pretty as a peach.”

The southerner wasn’t entirely making sense and he knew it, but he needed Hercules to stay more than he needed to find the right words.

“Look, you don’t gotta lie just ‘cause you feel bad for leading me on,” The Irishman tried to explain, letting Thomas go and beginning to slide off the bed to give him the space he thought he needed. “I’ll go, let you get some sleep, forget this ever-“

“No!” Thomas cried, voice a little too loud as he scrambled to grab into something of Hercules’ to make him stay.

He ended up latching onto his wrist and, though his grip was tight, he knew he couldn’t stop the mountain of a man from leaving if he really wanted to. At the very least, it gave Thomas a chance to look Hercules in the eyes one more time as tears began to drip down his cheeks.

Hercules paused, watching Thomas’ expression for a moment before he sat down on the bed again. He reached out to wipe away a few of Thomas’ tears with his thumb, cupping his cheek in the process. He couldn’t expect the southerner’s reaction.

Thomas squeezed his eyes shut, his tears now falling from his lashes as he leaned into Hercules’ touch as much as he could. He held Hercules’ hand to his cheek, lacing their fingers together as he pressed little kisses to his palm and inner-wrist.

“Just- stay. Please… I don’t care what else we do, just stay.”

Hercules hummed lowly in response, nodding as he shifted closer to Thomas and took hold of his waist again. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head over a thing, I’m right here.”

Thomas gave a small nod in response, sniffling quietly as he tried to wipe away his tears staining his cheeks with his free hand. “I’m sorry… I killed the mood, didn’t I?”

Hercules shook his head, slowly laying Thomas back onto the mattress as he slipped his hands under the hem of his shirt. “I said not to worry, didn’t I? You’re just fine and still pretty when you cry too.”

His comment made Thomas laugh, the sound a little dry and mixed with a hitch in his breath, but a laugh nonetheless. Hercules took it as a sign he was good to go, pulling Thomas into another kiss as he began to unbutton his silk shirt.

He was being gentle this time, slower and sensual yet soft. For a moment, Thomas even felt cared for. It was a funny feeling, a foreign feeling, but Thomas allowed himself to relish in it as Hercules pulled off his shirt and tossed it on the floor.

Now with his chest exposed Hercules occupied his mouth with painting matching marks onto Thomas’ collarbone as his fingers hooked around the waistband of both his dress pants and his boxer-briefs. Thomas couldn’t help but whine, unsure whether he liked it more when Hercules’ lips were busy with his own or when they were sucking beautiful bruises into the skin just below his throat.

Either way, he wasn’t exactly pleased when Hercules suddenly stopped and realization flash across his expression.

“I was thinking we were gonna have to do this the old fashioned way, but…” he trailed off as he reached for the nightstand, feeling around in the drawers before his fingers wrapped around a small bottle of lube. “Horny bastards.”

Thomas couldn’t help but pout as Hercules began to laugh. As much as he loved the sound, he loved the attention and affection more.

“I might not be a bastard but I am horny, and I’m right here,” he muttered, still pouting as he pawed at Hercules’ chest and kissed at the corner of his jaw. “So, can we fuck now? Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

Hercules was still laughing, now because of Thomas’ little plea instead of whatever he found in the nightstand. “Keep that pout up and I might make you beg for real.”

“I bet you’d like that,” Thomas murmured, pressing his forehead into Hercules’ chest as he openly trailed his open palms up his arms and down his back. “What’s so interesting anyways?”

“Just something that’ll let us get to the real fun,” Hercules replied, teasing his lips down Thomas’ torso and tugging at his waistband with his teeth. “Wanna do me a favour and help me get these off?”

Thomas was almost too eager as he quickly kicked off his dress pants before he reached for Hercules’ fly, only to stop as Hercules ran his teeth along the edge of his Adonis belt. It sent a shiver up Thomas’ spine as he was made very aware of just how hard he was. He whined, reaching for something of Hercules’ to hold to distract him from the heat rising to his cheeks.

“I’m right here baby,” Hercules murmured, voice surprisingly soft for his size as he laced his and Thomas’ fingers together. “But if you want my dick you need to let me prep ya first… I’d hate to hurt you, after all.”

Though Thomas pouted in response with another whine he reluctantly let go of Hercules’ hand and laid back. He shifted a bit as Hercules spread his legs apart, swallowing thickly as he heard Hercules pop the cap off the bottle of lube.

He was needy and nervous and on fire and shivering all at the same time. He trusted Hercules, he really did, but being left open and vulnerable he felt like a virgin.

Thomas was certainly acting like it, after all.

He went tense as Hercules pushed the first finger in, a quiet hiss slipping past his lips as he clenched around him. They’d barely begun and already Thomas’ was finding it hard to breathe.

“Relax, you’re fine. This won’t hurt,” Hercules murmured, kissing down Thomas’ calf from his knee in an attempt to calm his nerves. “It just won’t feel as good if you don’t.”

Thomas huffed quietly in response, whining quietly again. Still, he managed to force the tension out of his muscles as Hercules began to work him open.

Hercules’ fingers were this and his pace was steady as he diligently worked Thomas open. He was right, it felt much better when Hercules wasn’t fighting against artificial tension.

Even with only one finger, Thomas was panting as he tried to stay still for Hercules. With the second he was moaning, squirming as Hercules began to push deeper and press against his prostate. With the third he was gasping, both in surprise and pleasure from the stretch. Hercules’ fingers were thick to begin with, he couldn’t begin to imagine how thick his cock must be.

Luckily he wouldn’t have to try and imagine for long.

“See? that wasn’t so hard,” Hercules muttered as he pulled his fingers out with a wet pop, watching with a grin as Thomas began to whine from the loss of contact. “Your dick, on the other hand…”

He trailed off as he gave Thomas’ length an almost playful stroke, earning a sweet and needy whine as he reached for Hercules again. “Please… I want you, need you. Just-“

“Shh, I’m right here,” Hercules murmured as he pulled Thomas into a slow kiss, giving him the attention he needed while Hercules stripped himself of the last of his clothes.

The sight of Thomas beneath him and his all-too beautiful moans were enough to get him hard. All it took was a pair of quick strokes to spread lube over his cock before he was lining up with Thomas’ entrance.

“Wait,” Thomas murmured as he placed a hand on Hercules’ shoulder before he could go any farther. Nervousness beat neediness. “Hold me?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Hercules murmured with a small laugh as he took Thomas’ hand from his shoulder and laced their fingers together. “This better?”

Thomas gave a hum in response as he let out a small sigh, relaxing under Hercules’ weight as he bit his lip in anticipation for what was next.

Hercules flashed Thomas one of those charismatic, carefree grins that made his knees go weak as Hercules squeeze his hand and began to push in.

Thomas didn’t have a chance to get a good look at Hercules’ cock earlier. He didn’t think it’d matter. Now, Hercules had barely pushed two inches into him and he was already left gasping at the burning of pain and pleasure that came with the stretch.

He wanted more.

“Hercules, please- Don’t tease me now…” he whined, beginning to pout again only for Hercules to catch his lips in a kiss.

Thomas was eager to kiss back as Hercules gave his hand a sharp squeeze, making him gasp. In a moment their tongues were tied together as Hercules rocked his hips to ease Thomas into the stretch as he pushed deeper.

He didn’t stop until he was buried deep in Thomas’ ass, pressing against all the right places as Hercules groaned lowly at the tightness.

“You feel good, baby… Makes me wish I met you sooner.” Hercules muttered through the kiss before nipping at Thomas’ lower lip.

Thomas opened his mouth to respond, panting quietly as he tried to find his words. A moan lingered in the back of his throat as he clenched and unclenched around Hercules’ cock. He was starting to adjust to the burning stretch as his muscled learned to accommodate Hercules’ sheer size. Still, each rock of his hips helped reignite the spark and draw another moan from Thomas’ lips.

It was game over when Hercules began the real fun.

The first thrust made Thomas moan into the kiss. Hercules didn’t even need to try to find his prostate when his cock was so thick it pressed against everything at once. The pace he set was steady and strong, making Thomas gasp each time Hercules bottomed out just to bring back the burn of stretched-out pleasure he was desperate for.

As a hot tightness began to pull at his gut Thomas could only gasp. He squeezed Hercules’ hand as he tried to follow his movements, hips beginning to buck under the pressure and pleasure that built up with the push and pull of Hercules’ cock.

“Ha- Herc! Hercules, please~” He practically purred as a shivering moan ripped through his throat. Part of him was desperate for the pressure to give way to something even better while another part of him wanted the burn to last forever.

Hercules was getting sloppy, each thrust now accompanied with a grunt and a creak of the mattress as he pinned Thomas’ hand down next to his hand. “What’s that now? You want something?”

Thomas could only nod in response as his free hand shot up to wrap around Hercules’ neck, pulling him down into another kiss. His movements were feverish even as he gave up control and Hercules’ strong arm lifted his hips up off the bed.

“Please, I wanna- I gotta-!” Thomas couldn’t get his words out, he didn’t even know what he was trying to say anymore.

All he could think about was the perfect burn of Hercules’ cock and the building heat that made him want to burst.

Hercules seemed to contemplate Thomas’ words for a moment even as his own endurance began to wear thin. He was panting, grunting, and even a few moans of his own slipped through with the low sounds of pleasure.

“Don’t hold yourself back, baby.”

Thomas didn’t need to hear anymore. The pressure and heat unravelled like a spring wound up too tight, sending a shock of sharp pleasure through Thomas’ system as he tightened around Hercules’ cock and made a sticky, hot mess of his stomach.

It didn’t take much more before Hercules came tumbling over the edge after him, hips suddenly stilling with a sharp thrust as he came with a groan.

They laid there as a tangled, sweaty mess as they tried to catch their breath between kisses. Eventually, Hercules pulled out and fell next to Thomas on the mattress, pulling him into his chest despite the mess they’d made of each other. Thomas preened as Hercules pulled him in for one last kiss. Even after everything, there was still a faint taste of absinthe on his lips.

Thomas was still clinging onto Hercules as they separated once more. He wanted him close, he wanted to keep those strong arms around him for as long as he lived. He hadn’t felt this hopeful about someone in a long time and as he and Hercules slipped into sleep, it was all he could think about.

Hope as sweet as this would make for a good Christmas tradition.

 *~*~*~*~*~*

 Lafayette hummed quietly to himself, drumming a little rhythm against his granite countertops as his Nespresso machine finished his perfectly brewed morning coffee. It was Christmas morning and while most of his guests had gone home after the snowstorm blew over a few were resting in his various guest rooms.

As he took his festive mug from the machine and began to search his cupboards for the cinnamon sugar, he heard the sound of running water from somewhere upstairs. The Frenchman smiled to himself at the sound, knowing breakfast would be soon.

As he passed by his oven, he made sure to preheat the grill. Christmas morning crepes were one of his specialties, after all. Some of his guests stayed the night just to have a taste of the delectable breakfast treats the next morning.

While he waited Lafayette took a seat at the breakfast bar, taking a slow slip of his French vanilla latte and smiling the added hint of cinnamon. Perfect as always.

He heard two sets of footsteps start to come down the stairs together, a smirk pulling at the Frenchman’s lips at the sound. He stood, moving around to the other side of the counter and leaving his latte behind. Lafayette pretended not to have noticed the approaching pair as he busied himself with preparing the batter.

When he heard the stools shift as two more people took a seat at the breakfast bar he turned around with a sweet smile. “Bon matin, mes amis! Did you sleep well?”

Hercules gave a small grunt as Thomas mumbled some unintelligible response. They both looked tired despite having a full night's sleep, obviously hungover.

Thomas seemed to be a little more careful with himself as he sat down, shaking some water droplets from his curls. Hercules, well, he was shirtless and not-so-subtly smirking at how Thomas crossed one leg over the other as he tried to find a way to sit comfortably.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Lafayette replied, smiling more at the sight and humming under his breath to pretend he was simply happy because it was Christmas. “I am glad you two made friends. That is what you did, non?”

“You could call it that, yeah,” Hercules muttered with a low laugh as he stretched his arms above his head. Considering he was shirtless and still damp from the shower, it was quite the sight.

Thomas was trying not to stare, lowering his head into his hands as he rubbed his eyes. “Uhm… Breakfast, coffee! Are we gonna be able to have either of those?”

“Very soon, mon beaux,” Lafayette replied, a coy twinkle appearing in his eyes as he rested his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his folded hands. “But first, I think you two have some secrets to spill~”

[qatirna-can-read]

Tsagaan Sar - Q

Khadagan chopped feverishly at a head of garlic. A young Qatirna - still too small to look up and see the tears painting her mother’s cheeks - toddled up to the woman, gripping at the fabrics of her skirts for balance. 

“Mama! <What cooking?!>” the child shouted excitedly in a broken Eorzean Xaelic tongue. She nuzzled her face into the layered fabrics and giggled.

Khadagan set the knife down on the cutting board and used the back of her clawed hand to wipe away the tears from her eyes. She looked down at her daughter and smiled an earnest but sad smile. Before picking the affectionate child up and balancing her on her hip so she could use a free hand to stir a pot simmering on the stove.

She looked so much like her father. Little freckles dancing across her nose just the way Batu’s did. Her strange purple eyes that appeared to shine differently depending on her mood. Even the child’s tail, long and slender and tipped with spines, mirrored that of her late progenitor. 

Khadagan kissed her daughter’s nose, just below her scales, right on her warm purple freckles atop her soft hematite soil skin. “Mama is making feast of Tsagaan Sar.” She gave a gentle smile, “In Mama’s homeland this is very important time.” 

She placed the child back on the ground, “You want to help Mama?”

Qatirna looked up at her mother with a broad confused smile and nodded enthusiastically.

“<Will you help me mix this, please?>” Khadagan handed a small wooden bowl to a tiny outstretched clawed grasp. With the bowl in Qatirna’s hands, Khadagan picked her up once more to set her down at a table nearby. She handed over a small wooden spoon then began pouring dry ingredients into the bowl as the little girl mixed with delight.

“<Thank you, my sweet desert rose.>” Khadagan kissed the dark hair on her daughter’s head and beamed at the display in joy and amusement as the two prepared for the feast together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Qatirna playfully kneaded the dumpling dough as her mother fussed over the fillings she had simmering in several pots over a single fire. She still required a stool to reach over the counter, and even standing a fulm higher from the ground, she still only came midway up her mother’s arm. 

“Mama, done!” she shouted proudly.

Khadagan looked at the little girl with a bemused smile, coming over to help her child. “<Let Mama show you.>”

Qatirna stared at her mother with a serious expression, nodding her head to indicate her readiness to learn. 

Her mother brought over a dull stone knife, placing it on the counter between them. She showed her daughter how to roll out the dough. "<Like this, Little Flame. Make it like a snake.>" 

Qatirna rolled the dough, more playing than working, but learning all the same. 

"<Please be cautious not to cook the dough.>" Her mother added. 

"<Okay Mama. I careful.>" Qatirna had recently come into her magic and still struggled to not catch her hands on fire when she got excited. “<Mama?>” she paused her rolling to ask, “<Is friends come to Tsagaan Sar?>”

"<I invited everyone we know from Little Ala Mhigo. Including Petra.>" she answered softy with a grin.

The child blushed, burying her embarrassed face melodramatically in her folded arms. Petra was Qatirna’s best friend. She was Qatirna’s first friend. Kind, funny, adventurous. Qatirna also thought she was really pretty, and her mother knew that and found it adorable. 

"<Mamaaa!>" she whined at her mother's teasing. 

Khadagan tousled the little girl's hair before moving to show her how to cut off the pieces of dough and pull them out flat. "<Like this, little one.>" and she cut off a piece of dough for her daughter to practice with as well. 

"<Like this, Mama?>" Qatirna pulled the dough flat, although the shape she made was somewhat laughable. 

Khadagan giggled at the child, "<You're getting it. Now let's practice folding. Watch carefully.>" she neatly took the edges of her own flattened dough and tucked them into the center, twirling the whole thing at the end to create a shape reminiscent of flower petals. 

Qatirna stared in awe before attempting to do as her mother did. She folded everything into the middle, creating an oddly shaped cone. "<What do you think?>" She scooped up the cone dough with both hands before holding it out to her mother for inspection. 

The older Xaela looked at her daughter's practice folds with great scrutiny, her brow furrowed in a serious expression. "<hmm… yes! This is perfect. You keep practicing and you will be Khatun of Tsagaan Sar!>" She beamed brightly at her daughter before booping her nose with a flour covered finger. They both stared at each other for a moment before breaking into laughter. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two red Xaela women weaved expertly through the crowds of the farmer's market. Both dressed in colorful wrapped sarongs. The one in browns and reds looked only just of age. Young and pretty, long flowing onyx hair with red undertones matched her onyx scales sitting atop red clay skin. Her eyes burned bright with a unique violet hue and her full clover lips grinned at the older and taller Xaela adorned with gentle blues. "<I want to try some new herbs and vegetables this year. I have extra coin from my work with Clan Centurio.>"

The Xaela in blue, despite being twice the age of the Xaela in red, was still just as beautiful as her daughter. She wore her silver peppered black hair held back with a scarf. Her own onyx scales protected her deep red skin, even darker than the crimson of her daughter's. 

"<I have given you the list of things I need. Anything after that is entirely up to you, Little Flame.>" She smiled back, her canines notably sharper than Qatirna’s. 

Qatirna shrugged in amusement at her, moving to examine a nearby stand. “<I think we can use some Ala Mhigan spices in the barbecue pork for the buuz this year.> Petra has been showing me some of her family recipes lately.”

“<Hmm..>” Khadagan took her place by her daughter’s side, leaning down to sniff the orange bag of spice Qatirna had her eye on. “<I can see what you mean. This might add a nice flavor... Have you two been discussing marriage?>”

“<Mama! What? No!>”

“<By the time your father was your age he was already wed.>” she said matter-of-factly.

“<I think it is different when it is an arranged marriage to your horse, Mama.>” she responded in a restrained hiss. 

The man tending the stand stared blankly at the two women speaking in the unfamiliar language. “Did you ladies want to purchase any spices?” He asked, indifferent to their squabbles.

“Yes, please! I would like… a small container of that, and a medium container of that one.” Qatirna pointed to the orange powder, then a yellow powder, before she began digging through her satchel for the gil to pay. Her cheeks had turned a substantially darker red than usual.

"<Qatirna! You should show respect for your father's culture!>" Khadagan pestered, now standing behind her daughter, a good 5 or 6 ilms taller.

Qatirna winced at her public scolding. Despite the fact that no one in the market could understand the two, anyone could see the basic theme of their conversation. 

"<I do, Mama.>" Qatirna replied as she turned away from the stand, gently tucking the spices into a side pocket of her satchel. "<I mean. Yes, Mama. I just don't think my relationship with Petra is comparable to Father's relationship to Koko.>" she sighed. "<Does everyone know that I invite Kazagg Chah? He is very important mentor to me and I do not wish for discomfort between guests.>"

"<Yes, my desert rose. I've told the other guests. They know of your friendship with the beast tribes and no one should make a fuss.>" she placed a reassuring hand on her daughter's arm and gave a gentle squeeze. "<We can speak more of Petra at another time.> Now where is pork farmer?"

Khadagan wandered off towards the meats section of the market with Qatirna following close behind. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Qatirna stirred awake from a restless sleep. Her body felt heavy, like weights had woven their way up and down her arms and legs in the night. With a great deal of effort, she pushed herself up and out of bed. 

For a moment, she allowed herself to forget the empty silence in her home. She moved across her room and down the stairs of her loft, graceful yet absentminded. The only thing keeping her mind connected to this time and place was the feel of the cold hard ground beneath her feet. This morning seemed stiller than most, or perhaps the quiet hit harder today in particular. 

She placed the kettle on the burner, lighting the fire below with a flame conjured in her palm, same as she did most mornings. She closed her eyes, taking a deep strangled breath, before making her way to the ice box to pull out some pork she planned to marinate. She still hadn't decided if she wanted to use the traditional spices her mother taught her as a child or if she wanted to use the spice mixture she'd created with her late mother and ex fiancé. 

While she rummaged through her spice cabinet she began to hum. An old Auri lullaby, taught to her by her mother. Her father sang it to her during their brief time together before his death, or so she'd been told. Sometimes the tune brought her comfort, today it stung her with a sick longing. Despite this, she continued to sing. 

She busied herself, trying to keep her mind free, trying to keep any pesky thoughts of tragedy and loss at bay. The new recipe, she thought, to honor all those we lost.

Her mind was still until she began pouring the spices into a small mixing bowl. A memory trickled to the forefront of her thoughts: her mother asking her toddler self for 'help' mixing dry ingredients. A sad smile spread across her lips. She gripped the counter's edge, claws drumming the tabletop as she attempted to hold off any further thoughts of her past. 

The trickle of that memory pushed past her efforts to repair the dam of hindsight. It crumbled and burst. Memories flooded back as waves of grief crashed over her. Suddenly she was drowning within herself. 

A soft sob escaped her throat. She felt the familiar sting of tears welling in her eyes. Her head spun in a storm of everything that was, everything that could have been, everything she should have done. Teenage arguments with her mother, a first kiss, snacks lovingly prepared and placed near her while she studied, laughing at inside jokes, singing traditional songs in various languages, making a fire on cold nights, soup made for the sick. She crumpled. Falling to the floor like a warrior taking an arrow in the heart. A whimper on the floor of her kitchen became a sob became an agonizing wail. She clawed desperately at the floor, although her hands found no purchase. Even though she was hyperventilating she couldn’t fill her lungs with a full breath of air. 

She had no control here in the tempest. She held fiercely to her sorrow, the only feeling she could cling to for any measure of stability, as she slowly pulled herself tighter, smaller, into herself. 

The sharply whistling kettle cut through the screams of her weeping. She looked up through puffy eyes, glowing a vibrant indigo. She stopped her sobs, coughing at the thick film that coated her throat, before pulling herself back up to remove the kettle from the burner. She laughed at the kettle for pulling her out of hysteria, although the sound choked out as a half chuckle half sob. 

She shook her head, letting out a deep sigh, climbing up the counter to reach the tea on the top shelf. Her mother had been several ilms taller than her, and aside from lalafells, they were the two shortest people she’d ever known. She placed the tea on the counter gingerly before hopping back down. A clay mug sat on a cabinet nearby, she pulled that down as well. It looked like a tankard in her small hands. After pouring the water and leaves she held the steam up to her face, allowing it to soothe her skin, tender from crying.

This would have to be enough. She had no other options than for this to be enough. She breathed in a rough quivered breath before reaching just below where she’d grabbed her mug. Pulling a strong spiced spirit from the bottom shelf, she took a swig several gulps worth. She closed her eyes, allowing the burn to roll through her, numbing some of that pain in her chest.

She could go on. Once again she turned her attention back to the feast she prepared for one. Utterly alone. 

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Kiro’s Memories of Summer Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 忆夏之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

References are made to the following unreleased and likely cancelled content, so please read them before this date, or you might get lost at certain parts:

> R&S - Stunning Young Idol

> R&S - Youthhood

> Greenhouse Date (IMPORTANT)

There’s a call BEFORE the date: here

[ This date was released in CN on 21 October 2020 ]

[ PRESENT - Location: MC’s house ]

MC: All right, I’ve read through the scrapbook. Are you satisfied now? 

Kiro and I are sitting shoulder to shoulder, flipping to the last page of the scrapbook. 

Kiro : Did you leave something out? 

MC: Hm? Did I miss out an itinerary?

Kiro takes up a pen. In the blank space on the page, he draws a slightly crooked, but adorable teddy bear. 

Next to it, he draws a speech bubble: “I have a secret to tell you!”

-

[ FLASHBACK - Location: MC’s house ]

“I have a secret to tell you”...

MC: ...

While absent-mindedly having my breakfast, I ponder on what Kiro’s “secret” could be.

A few days ago, I suddenly received a call from Kiro while he was filming outdoors. We agreed that today would be left entirely up to his arrangements.

"Ding dong--”

MC: Coming, coming!

I run over and pull the door open. Behind the door stands Kiro, wearing a baseball cap and looking very relaxed. Several strands of golden coloured hair disobediently curl upwards underneath the brim of his hat. 

When he sees me, he immediately reveals a happy smile. 

Kiro: Miss Chips, are you ready? We can set out!

MC: You haven’t told me where we’re going?

Kiro: Since it’s a secret, how could I divulge it from the start?

He shakes his head firmly, and even uses his fingers to make a ‘X’ in front of his mouth.

Kiro: This time, I’m not going to soften my heart and divulge it to you first!

MC: All right...

Seeing how he’s rarely this serious, all you can do is smile and agree.

This “secret” - it’s probably a visit to another secret haunt to view the scenery, right? 

Kiro: You definitely wouldn’t be able to guess it this time!

He blinks and grabs one of my hands, his tone as lively as a dancing musical note.

Your mood is also influenced by his, and the corners of your lips involuntarily tug upwards. 

MC: I’ll just wait and see then?

Kiro: In the name of donuts, I guarantee that you’ll definitely like it!

Even though the sky outside the window is filled with dark clouds, Kiro’s smiling face seems to light up all of the gloom.

No matter where we go, and no matter what view we see, as long as we’re together, it’s good enough.

--At least, that’s what I initially thought.

-

[ Location: Kiro’s car ]

MC: Where exactly are we going? 

When I notice the car gradually ambling onto an empty trail in the outskirts, the confusion in my heart becomes more evident.

Pattering raindrops continuously pelt onto the window of the car. Outside the window are large plains of greenery which are being cleansed by the rain. 

Kiro turns his head to look at me, and it’s as though his eyes are filled with stars. 

Kiro: Miss Chips, I once promised that I’d give you a garden belonging just to us. 

Along with Kiro’s voice, a small garden teeming with blooming flowers appears in our line of sight.

It’s only after a few seconds that I finally internalise the meaning of his words, and my eyes widen.

MC: W...what do you mean? Are you saying...

Kiro: That’s right. This garden belongs to us now. 

Without waiting for me to continue guessing, he nods in acknowledgement. 

Kiro: When I was filming, a friend said he wanted to dispose of a small garden. So I bought it from him.

MC: But... but...

Even after several “but”s, I still can’t think of what to say. Should I rebuke him for squandering money to buy this garden, or tell him that he didn’t have to take my words literally back then?

Meanwhile, Kiro animatedly introduces the garden to me. 

Kiro: Even though the garden isn’t large, it’s pretty near the city. And it has a very beautiful glass greenhouse! The first time I saw the photograph, I felt it was very suited for us. When we’re free next time, we can have a vacation here. This is a “secret haunt” belonging to the two of us!

Noticing that I haven’t responded even after a while, Kiro slows down.

Kiro: What’s wrong, Miss Chips? You don’t like it?

MC: I...

Kiro stares at me anxiously, as though the moment I shake my head, his eyes would reveal a grieved expression.

When I think about his kind intentions, my heart softens. 

MC: I like it very much. Really, I’m incredibly happy!

His blue eyes are once again ignited with a radiant light. Kiro suddenly chuckles and leans over. 

Before I can react, I feel a gentle sensation on my cheek. When his lips make contact with my cheek before pulling away, there’s a soft sound.

Kiro: It’s great that you like it.

MC: [blushing] ...

In contrast to my stunned state with my mouth hanging open slightly, he looks especially at ease.

Kiro: Miss Chips, what’s wrong? 

MC: [blushing] N-nothing.

You face away, trying to ignore the lingering sensation of that gentle touch. But your heart rate is unable to calm down.

And you don’t notice the widening smile on Kiro’s lips.

While talking, the car reaches its destination.

Kiro: We’re here! Let’s get out of the car!

Kiro leaves the car first, holding an umbrella. Then, he walks over to my side and pulls the door open. 

-

[ Location: Forested area ]

Damp air accompanies the summer wind. Not too far off, the garden, which sits in the midst of mountains and forests, is reminiscent of a scenery framed in a painting.

Purplish-blue morning glories climb and entwine around bamboo fences, embellishing the curtain of drizzling rain with heart-stirring vibrance. 

MC: How beautiful...

The anticipation I harbour for the garden has reached its peak. Similarly, Kiro also pulls me towards it in anticipation. 

-

[ Location: Garden ]

When we draw nearer, we discover that the garden doesn’t seem to have been tended to for an extremely long time. Even the glass greenhouse is filled with junk, and is in disarray. 

The image in our heads - a small, romantic, yet beautiful garden flourishing with blooming flowers - is shattered in an instant. 

Kiro: Why does it look completely from what I imagined...

Kiro walks around the garden, frowning as he looks at me apologetically.

Kiro: I’m sorry, Miss Chips. I should have asked someone to tidy the place properly before bringing you here. 

MC: There’s no need to apologise. 

I place my hands on both sides of his face. Before he can react, I knead his cheeks with my palms. 

Kiro: ...mm?

MC: I think it’d be even more meaningful if we decorate the garden ourselves. We can write our names on this garden together.

Kiro is stunned for a moment, his eyes widening slightly. Then, a smile appears on his face. 

Kiro: Miss Chips, you’re right! This is a garden belonging to us.

-

I originally thought that tidying up the greenhouse would be an insipid affair. But I didn’t expect that we’d turn it into a treasure hunt. 

Kiro: Miss Chips, look at what I found!

Peering in his direction, I see Kiro squatting in front of a large paper box filled with various bits and bobs. In his hand is a beautiful glass bottle. 

Along with the swaying of the bottle, the glass beads in it channel tinkling sounds.

MC: It’s ramune!

[Trivia] Ramune is a Japanese carbonated soft drink

I lean over, realising that the box contains several more of such bottles. They’ve been washed and stored away by the original owner.

MC: Last time, I couldn’t bear to throw the bottles away after drinking them. But I’d always get sprayed whenever I open them...

Just recalling the uncontrollable spurting leaves me with a twinge of lingering trepidation. 

Kiro: It’s actually very simple. Press down on the cap for a while longer, and wait for the fizziness to go away before removing your finger from it. When I was schooling, I’d buy this whenever summer arrived.

Kiro sounds very familiar with it, his eyes brimming with longing.

His words also transport me back to my earlier years: summer days, late afternoons, and ice-cold ramune.

MC: Looks like we’re the same. Actually, it doesn’t taste that good, but the way to open it is really interesting!

Kiro and I exchange a glance, and we burst into laughter. 

Kiro: Actually... I still think cola tastes better!

While chatting, we clear out the soda bottles together. There are still various things in the box: lego toys with missing parts, incomplete jigsaw puzzles...

And a metal box filled with tiny paper slips. The words on the slips are unclear, but you can vaguely read them--

“Lend me your homework”, “Why is teacher dismissing class late again”, “Let’s go home together after school”, “I’m on cleaning duty today”...

MC: Pfft...

As I flip through the slips of paper, I laugh without restraint. Curious, Kiro takes a look at the slips. 

Kiro: Oh, they’re short notes! How nostalgic. Many people used to give me short notes during class last time too!

MC: Eh, really? 

I cast him a doubtful glance. Kiro pretends to be indignant as he looks at me, eyes wide.

Kiro: Of course - I’m Kiro! But I didn’t respond to every single note... apart from yours. I’ll always keep the notes you write to me.

After saying this, he suddenly makes a fist with one hand and places it on his other palm.

Kiro: Oh yes, I have to find a box for them when I get home too!

I pause for a while, unable to think of any important notes you wrote to him.

MC: You’re referring to those normal memos, right? 

Kiro: They’re still memories belonging to us. 

He cuts me off. His eyes sparkle, reminiscent of a little squirrel which has found a pine cone.

Kiro: I can remember all the important things, but it’s more difficult to remember the more trivial ones. But every minute and every second with you - I don’t want to forget them. They could even be left as family heirlooms!

MC: How could they be family heirlooms...

Kiro: Of course they can! Next time, we’ll tell them that the box contains the dribs and drabs belonging to me and the cutest girl in the world. Each note records a story. And each story is an important treasure. 

I open my mouth, but forget how to speak.

In his voice, I seem to envisage a scene from the future. 

My heart beats rapidly. I hurriedly lower my head, leafing through a random sketchbook in my hand. 

The sketchbook contains a drawing of a girl’s side profile done in clean brush strokes. As I flip through the following pages, I find that the entire book contains the same person in different situations. 

Kiro: Ohh, he definitely has a secret crush on her!

Miss Chips: Yeah, this should be very precious to him.

The thin sketchbook in your hands seems to shoulder the weight of memories. You carefully place it at the side, prepared to return it to its owner. All of a sudden, you hear Kiro speak.

Kiro: Miss Chips, have I ever told you about my high school days? 

You shake your head, recollecting the interviews and articles written about him before he returned to the country.

MC: I know a little. You attended high school in America, and even formed a band. Then, you successfully signed on with Warner Brothers... In the end, you entered Berkeley University with excellent results. All the articles said that you were an exceptionally serious and hardworking person. 

Kiro: So you already knew about it... However, I wasn’t necessarily that “sweet boy” mentioned in the articles!

The corners of his lips tug upwards, his expression carrying with it an almost imperceptible playfulness and ease.

Kiro: At that time, I was actually a little rebellious. I was filled with curiosity about the world, and wanted to try everything. 

Kiro: My band also tried all sorts of styles, because it’d be so boring if we only stuck to one! 

Kiro: You definitely didn’t know that I secretly played truant. Pei En and I... ah, he was my bandmate. When we had performances, we’d often go out to have fun behind our agent’s back. 

Kiro: I even researched how to sneak donuts into the performance venue...

The Kiro he’s talking about is a little foreign, but my curiosity is stirred up.

The Kiro of back then - was he really like that? 

Kiro: ...but there was one thing I didn’t try back then. 

With this, he suddenly stops and looks at me. 

MC: What was it? 

I blink in puzzlement. With a smile curling up his lips, he suddenly leans close to my ear. His lips brush against my ear, and I can almost feel their ridges. 

Kiro: I didn’t try liking a person. Do you think it’s because I hadn’t met you yet?

Every syllable, accompanied by his breath, rushes into my ear. 

The citrusy scent from the soda bottles lingers in the air - sour and sweet, just like those young and inexperienced years. 

My free hand is gripped by Kiro.

Subconsciously, I tighten my hold on his fingers, and I respond without much thought. 

MC: [blushing] At that time... you should have been studying!

Kiro: ...you’re right. 

The warm atmosphere vanishes in an instant. Kiro releases a sigh and fumes slightly, but it disappears quickly. 

Kiro: [sighs] Miss Chips, you’re really slow. 

He mutters something softly, but I pretend not to hear him and continue clearing out the items with my head lowered. My face feels like its burning.

-

Very soon, the junk in the greenhouse are cleared away. Kiro is currently tidying the messy wires, and I’m carrying an umbrella and the items to be disposed, leaving the greenhouse. 

MC: I’m heading out to throw the rubbish away. 

It’s still drizzling outside. By the time I toss the rubbish at the crossing, the drizzle grows heavier. As such, I follow a small trail and run back.

Passing through the stone path to the garden, I turn at a bend and step across a puddle. When I lift my head, I see Kiro sitting at the glass pavilion.

He’s barefoot, gazing at the path I had set out on, as though waiting for me to return.

Rain patters continuously around the pavilion. The morning glories which entwine around it are encased with water vapour.

Everything is hazy. Only his colours are especially distinct.

He doesn’t seem to care at all when the water droplets pelt onto him. He looks happy and content.

MC: Kiro!

My voice shatters the picture-like image before me. Kiro whips his head around in response, shock flashing across his features. 

Kiro: Eh? Miss Chips, why did you appear from this side?

MC: Because it’s much nearer. Were you waiting for me? 

With a sound of acknowledgement, Kiro raises something in his hand happily, showing it off as though he found a treasure. 

Kiro: Look at what I found! 

In his hand is a harmonica, and the logo on it looks incredibly familiar.

MC: In junior middle high, I think I had a harmonica with the same brand...

I walk over to the pavilion. Like Kiro, I remove my shoes and squeeze underneath the tiny pavilion with him, our shoulders touching.

Kiro pulls me even closer, preventing water from the eaves from pelting onto my shoulder.

The pattering water droplets continuously pelt onto our bare feet. The relaxing and cooling sensation enters the depths of our hearts.

- 

The rain persists even after a while. Kiro and I are hiding in the pavilion. Coincidentally, we have a full, unobstructed view of the entire garden.

I take a careful look at the harmonica in his hand. It has been washed clean, and the marks of years gone by linger on its body.

MC: Does it still work?

Kiro: Mm, I just tried it. It still makes sounds. 

With this, Kiro looks at me confidently.

Kiro: I said that I wasn’t good at playing the harmonica before. Afterwards, I specially practised it! This time, I’ll definitely play it even more amazingly than the last time!

MC: Cough cough. Actually, I didn’t mention this the last time - when I learnt the harmonica in junior high, the teacher complimented me for having a natural talent!

After saying this, I have a twinge of guilt. Because since then, it’s been a long time since I even touched a harmonica.

Kiro: Really? Miss Chips, you’re amazing!

Kiro’s eyes are shining as he looks at me. I lift up my chin ‘modestly’.

MC: I was so-so.

Kiro: Boasting might make your nose grow longer.

I subconsciously touch the tip of my nose, but react in time.

MC: It’d only grow longer when you tell a lie, right?

Kiro: Is that so? 

He elongates his words, widening his eyes and pretending to be silly. 

Kiro: In that case, I’ll play a song first to get the ball rolling.

Without much preparation, Kiro brings the harmonica to his lips. After adjusting his breathing, he blows the first note. 

“Du--”

My eyes widen in astonishment, not expecting that he really meant it when he said he “wasn’t good at playing it.”

Noticing my expression, Kiro arches one of his brows, as though telling me not to underestimate him.

At this moment, several musical notes form a smooth melody.

It’s a tune I’ve never heard before. Along with the rhythm created by the rain, it drifts over in a tranquil and mellifluous manner.

Kiro has his head half lowered, his lips moving from time to time along the harmonica. His expression has turned quiet, as though immersing himself in the world of music. 

Every time I see such a Kiro, I’ll always feel that he genuinely loves music with a fiery passion.

Soon, the melody ends. Before I fully extricate myself from the music, Kiro is already turning towards me with a satisfied look on his face.

Kiro: How was it? It’s a new song I’ve been trying recently.

MC: Hold on... are you really not good at it 

Kiro: After we performed together the other time, I re-discovered the joy in it!

He chuckles. He uses a tissue to wipe the harmonica clean, then hands it to me. 

Kiro: Now it’s your turn, Miss Chips.

MC: I’ll start off by saying that it’s been many years since I last played. 

I speak timidly, taking the harmonica.

MC: Let me see... I’ll play “Farewell” then.

Kiro nods. He holds his chin with a hand, his clear eyes gazing at me, waiting for my performance seriously.

I take a deep breath, placing my lips on the harmonica, which still has his lingering warmth on it. After a moment of hesitation, I blow the first note. 

“Su--”

I subconsciously look at Kiro’s expression. There isn’t a hint of ridicule in his eyes. Instead, they are filled with encouragement and trust. 

Hence, I continue pressing on, completing the simple melody.

Originally thinking that I had more or less forgotten it, memories from the past slowly surface before my eyes, enabling the melody to become fluent gradually.

My eyes flutter shut as well, basking in the delight of the moment where music and memories interlace.

After playing the final note, Kiro starts applauding.

Kiro: I didn’t expect Miss Chips to play so well even after such a long time!

Every time Kiro compliments someone, he’s always especially sincere. Seeing his awe and commendation, I start to feel embarrassed.

MC: Actually, I only know how to play a few songs...

Kiro: That’s already very amazing! Sometimes, I think about how great it’d be if I could travel through time.

MC: Why do you say that? 

Kiro: Because that way, I’d be able to know you in junior middle high.

He doesn’t seem to be joking. His gaze is focused on me, as though imagining how I looked like in junior middle high.

Kiro: Then, I’d be your seat mate, and give you lots of little notes during class. In summer, I’d buy two bottles of ice-cold ramune and wait for you before heading home together...

Kiro: [sighs] I really want to participate in your past: junior middle high, high school, university... all those long years.

Kiro: Fortunately, I can still participate in your present and future. 

His voice merges with the flavour of summer, and the sound of my heart beating against my chest resembles the song of cicadas, unable to be halted.

Unable to control my emotions, I instinctively want to avert my eyes. At the same time, however, I don’t want to keep avoiding things out of embarrassment like I did earlier.

I’m at a loss, so I simply lift the edges of my lips, giving him a small smile.

MC: All right, we’ll start from our garden.

And it’d span across the rest of our lives. From now till the future, everything will be given to him.

Kiro: Mm, I’ve got it!

Kiro beams with joy. He takes one of my hands in his and grips it tightly, as though he’ll never let go again.

By this time, the rain has already stopped. The summer heat in the air has long since dissipated, leaving behind the freshness of rain. 

This tiny greenhouse isn’t very exquisite, but the wilfully growing plants give it a rustic charm. After the rain, the lush flowers appear vibrant.

We step out of the pavilion and into the garden. Only now do I truly feel like this garden belongs to us.

Kiro: What type of flowers should we plant next time? What do you like? Roses... daisies... freesias...

MC: They’re all fine. We can plant different types of flowers. This way, there’ll be flowers blooming in every season. We can even buy a glass tea set so we can sit in the greenhouse and appreciate the flowers over tea.

Kiro: We’ll also have a rocking chair. When we’re old, we can sit here and enjoy the moment.

Based on the garden in our imagination, we start conceptualising and planning how it’d look like in the future.

When we reach the glass greenhouse, I look at the empty door and realise that something is missing.

Kiro: Over here, we need to hang a door plate.

Suddenly, Kiro retrieves a small wooden board from behind the door. Not knowing when he did it, the wooden board already has our names written on it. 

-- Kiro’s & Miss Chips’ Garden.

MC: When did you prepare this? 

Kiro: When you left just now. Now, I’ll leave the important task of hanging up the door plate to you!

Looking at the familiar handwriting on the wooden board, there’s a heaviness in a certain area in my heart. Perhaps that area already stores a flourishing garden filled with blooming flowers.

I tiptoe, hanging the wooden board on a nail, then look at it from left to right.

MC: Done!

Satisfied, I clap my hands together and turn around. Taken by surprise, I see a bouquet of white freesias, their petals dotted with water droplets.

The other end of the bouquet is held by Kiro. His eyes contain a bright smile. 

Kiro: Miss Chips, this is for you. This is the first bouquet in our garden!

He pauses for a while, his tone turning serious. 

Kiro: Next time, all the flowers here will be given to you, and only you.

My mouth hangs open. My heart rate speeds up in an unnatural manner. The blooming flowers seem to replicate the splendour of midsummer.

[Trivia] White freesias symbolise purity and innocence, and are the most popular wedding flowers because they are symbolic of the purity of the bride as well as the trust between the couple :’D

I take the freesias, which have been tied together simply with a ribbon, holding them to my chest like a treasure.

MC: I like it very much, thank you!

Kiro: I really want to do one thing right now!

Kiro suddenly stretches out his arms, bringing both me and the flowers into his arms. The summer-like heat encases me in an instant. 

While I’m still at a loss, I feel my feet being lifted off the ground as Kiro carries and spins me around several times.

MC: Whoa, hold on!

Kiro: [laughs] I can’t wait any longer!

He chuckles while setting me down. His eyes are filled with the colours of unconcealed happiness. Then, he offers his hand to me. 

Kiro: Do you still remember the dance we did before? 

I recall the “dance” we did the last time in a greenhouse, where I was spun around till I was dizzy. I shake my head vigorously.

MC: I don’t remember!

Kiro: Liar.

Seeing his slightly aggrieved expression, I smile and place my hand gently on his palm. Then, he playfully hooks his fingers with mine.

All of a sudden, the dark clouds accumulated in the sky are blown away by the wind. Rays of light from afar reach us, illuminating the entire garden.

The scintillating light dances on the tips of Kiro’s golden coloured hair, and my vision is completely taken over by his smiling face. 

It can no longer hold anything else.

Kiro: Let’s dance!

I’m pulled closer to Kiro, and he takes my head, lifting it over my head.

MC: Are we going to dance right here? 

I can’t help but laugh. Cooperating with him, I tiptoe and twirl around. Then, he draws me into his arms.

Kiro leans his chin on my shoulder. The breath he exhales stirs up stray hairs on the side of my neck.

I can’t see the expression on his face, but hear his incredibly gentle voice in my ear, imbued with overwhelming sweetness.

Kiro: Miss Chips--

-

[ PRESENT - Location: MC’s house ]

Kiro: All right, that should be it. The only thing left is to paste that photograph we took at the garden. Hmm... we can also consider making dried flowers using the flowers in every season, and keep them here...

Kiro sets down the pen, casting an earnest look at the mostly empty book, as though he has come to a decision.

My gaze lingers on the phrase he just wrote down.

The adorable teddy bear is waving at me from the book. The speech bubble is drawn seriously, and there’s an arrow pointing at the next page.

The ink left behind by Kiro has yet to dry completely. His voice in my memory and the short phrase blend together, creating a drawn out sweetness in my heart. 

“Miss Chips, will you give your future to me?”

--

💐 MOMENTS 💐

Kiro’s Post: The person who sees this message can make a wish.

MC: Why do you suddenly want to fulfil people’s wishes?

Kiro: Because I want to know what your wish is!

-

Kiro’s Post: The person who sees this message can make a wish.

MC: Could I wish for three more wishes?

Kiro: If it’s Miss Chips, even a thousand or ten thousand wishes are okay.

-

Kiro’s Post: The person who sees this message can make a wish.

MC: Looks like I’m the first one?

Kiro: Mm! Actually, you’re the only one.

--

Call after the date: here

[scarlettwitcher]

Baby Girl Chapter Three

Summary: Y/n tried to avoid her past with a certain Statesmen but when they’re partnered back up for a mission that could cost millions their lives, Y/n must make the right choice. (This is the Kingsman: The Golden Circle movie basically in writing with reader insert. I recommend watching the movie, it’s amazing! It’s on Amazon Prime Video.)

Characters: Agent Whiskey x Agent Gin(Y/n), Tequila, Ginger Ale, Eggsy, Merlin, Champ, Harry, mentions of Poppy, Charlie, and Clara 

Word Count: 5,168

Warnings: angst, really bad insults, fluff, SMUT, unprotected p in v, oral(female receiving), cursing, that’s it, i think.

Author’s Note: This is what started everything. I wanted to write this scene in general ever since i watched the movie, and then it just progressed to me writing this series so enjoy! Shoutout to my lovely @giftofdreams​ for being an amazing beta! I do need a few betas for a few fics i have, if you’re open to help, send me a message please! As always, thanks for reading and feedback is always welcome/needed.

Previously...

Whiskey knew exactly what Champ meant and he sighed, nodding his head. "I'll try Champ." 

"I'm serious Whiskey. That girl has been trying hard to recover. She may be young but she has a big heart." Whiskey nodded as he waved his goodbye, hanging up the call. He was relieved at finally having some time to talk to you, even if it wasn’t alone. Who knew this would be the start of a long, long roller coaster.

Now...

Soon as promised, he appeared in his jet, picking you and Eggsy up, flying you both to where his girlfriend was so you could get your passes to the festival. The whole plane ride you locked yourself into your room, ignoring Whiskey’s occasional knocks on your door. “Darling, talk to me.”

A few hours later, another knock filled the silence. “Sugar, please.” Of course, you ignored it. “You can’t be in there forever baby girl.” 

You ignored every one of his advances and you tried even harder to ignore the pet names. Once upon a time, his words would melt you and make you feel like you were the only one in his eyes. Driving up to where Tilde was staying, you sat in the back, watching the scenery pass by as your hair flowing in the air. Whiskey’s eyes kept glancing back at you in the rearview mirror. He didn’t know how you could be more beautiful than you were but here you were, taking his breath away as you always did. Stopping in front of the house, Eggsy jumped out of the car and ran inside leaving you alone with Whiskey. He cleared his throat as he patted the passenger side chair. “Come up here with me darlin.”

You laughed humorlessly as you shook your head. “In your dreams sugar.” He knew you said that condescendingly and he huffed in annoyance. 

“Sweetheart, you have to talk to me at some point. We’re on this mission together.”

“Then I’ll only talk to you about the mission.” Whiskey rolled his eyes as he half turned in his seat, watching you. You felt like his gaze could burn through you and you wiggled, feeling a tad bit uncomfortable. 

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what, darlin?”

“Like you want me. We both know it ain’t true.” You mumbled quietly looking away from him. He felt his next words die in his throat as he tried to think of something nice to say. He really didn’t know the extent of the pain he caused you. Sure, you were in your early twenties and you were considered immature by most but you knew what you felt for the cowboy was real. Whiskey sighed and turned back around before honking a couple of times, alerting the butler nearby. You watched as he neared the car and Whiskey waved him away, mumbling his apologies. A few minutes later, Eggsy appeared with a few bands in his hand. “Got the passes from my contact. You're gonna love Glastonbury.”

“Well, that's the easy part, kid. Take a look in the glove box.” Eggsy popped the glove box open and looked inside, pulling out a tiny container. He opened it and you swore he wanted to laugh. He looked at what looked like a minuscule condom. You remember feeling the same when it was introduced to you. “Fucking hell, bruv. Thought everything was supposed to be bigger in America. Is this why you overcompensate with these massive cars?” 

Whiskey chuckled, pushing his glasses back up his nose, as he leaned in, holding his finger up to Eggsy. Whiskey was about to explain its use but you decided to butt in. You leaned in between the two, giving your shoulder’s back to Whiskey as you looked up at Eggsy. “Goes on your finger. The surveillance tracker is in the tip. Apply light pressure for three seconds to release it.” 

Your scent quickly invaded all of Whiskey’s senses and it took everything for him to not moan. You smelled sweet, just like he remembered. He was so tempted to reach out and touch your skin, seeing if the way he remembered it was the same or if it was better. “Nice, bruv.” You giggled at his slang and your laugh snapped Whiskey out of his thoughts. He cleared his throat and you sat back as Whiskey drove off in the direction of the festival. You spent the car ride talking to Eggsy as much as you could, ignoring a simmering Whiskey. You made it a point to ignore him and it didn’t take long for Eggsy to catch on.

From the moment you arrived, you were overwhelmed with the people, smells, and the music. Considering you entered the agency at a very young age, you didn’t experience a lot of the “life things”. You didn’t have the typical years any teenager did. Both your parents were Statesmen and they raised you in hopes you would become one too. 

Whiskey noticed your excitement as you slipped on your band and he couldn’t help but smile. You were adorable. You walked amongst the people in between Whiskey and Eggsy as he started talking. “Okay, so according to her Instagram feed… Charlie's ex-girlfriend is up ahead at the VIP bar. Which one of us is gonna plant the tracker?”

You came up to the V.I.P entrance where several tents surrounded a large bar. The security guard stopped the three of you, motioning to his wrist. “Bands, please. You’re good.” You passed him with ease as you continued your walk into the area.

“I say we both make an approach. Whoever gets on best, goes for it.” You visibly stiffened at this, not happy with what could happen. Both Whiskey and Eggsy noticed your immediate discomfort but neither said anything. You weren’t included because from research, you were able to conclude she was straight and you wouldn’t be able to woo her. 

Eggsy cleared his throat before shaking his head slightly. It didn’t take a genius to figure out you and Whiskey had a past, especially after he noticed your behavior in the car. “Well, it doesn't have to be a competition, bruv. Why don't we just go up to her… shake her hand, pat her on the back, whatever, you know. Job well done.” You commended Eggsy for his kindness. You hadn’t known the brit for very long at all but you took a liking to him and he to you. 

“The hand is not a mucus membrane, Eggsy. Neither is the back. They teach you anything at Kingsman?” Whiskey found it amusing that Eggsy hadn’t caught on to how the tracker was applied and he shook his head. You kept your head down, trying not to call attention to yourself. Whiskey noticed how guarded you had become and he wished he didn’t have to take a stab at sleeping with the target. He had just gotten the opportunity to be around you again and he knew this would make everything worse. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Our trackers are designed to enter the bloodstream. They circulate harmlessly, providing full audio and GPS.” As Whiskey explained, he made a hand motion with two fingers and for a second, you forgot you were angry with him, remembering how undone you became on his fingers the first time you slept together. Your mouth watered and you felt your underwear dampen at the memories of what happened between the two of you. Eggsy was in a whole other world as he finally started to connect the dots. He held up one of his fingers in question.

“Mucus membrane. That's like up the nose, isn't it? What the fuck am I gonna do? Stick my finger… It's not just inside the nose, is it?” Whiskey spotted the target and he kept his eyes on her. You noticed and you quickly switched from aroused to feeling nauseous. You mumbled quietly about how you needed a drink, making your way to the other side of the bar. You had to keep your eyes on the target in case anything could happen. 

“No, Eggsy, it ain't.” Whiskey watched you leave and he sighed, feeling tense about the whole situation.

“Fuck.”

“All right, I'll take the first crack. Watch and learn, buddy.” Whiskey took a chug of his small flask before he was stopped by Eggsy’s hand on his shoulder. 

“Are you sure about that bruv?” Eggsy nodded his head towards you. Whiskey glanced in your direction and sighed as he shook his head. He knew if he was the one who had to place the tracker, things would worsen with you.

“No, I’m not but I have to give it a try, no matter how bad it might go.” Whiskey took another sip as he winked at Eggsy. Eggsy just clicked his tongue, shaking his head. He caught on quick that he was going to make the target reject him on purpose for your sake. 

“Good luck.”

Whiskey walked over to Clara with a cool swagger to him. You watched him as you downed another shot. “Miss, I beg your pardon. Now, I don't wanna pester you, but I just have to know, what time are you playing?” Because of the comms that you were wearing, you could hear everything and you couldn’t help but cringe at his words.

“Pretty little thing like you come here often?” You had had a hard mission that involved kids and Whiskey found you at a bar, drinking your pain away. You smiled tightly as you ordered another shot, signalling the bartender to prepare one for Whiskey.

“Only when I want to forget.” Whiskey chuckled quietly, drinking the shot quick, hissing from the burn.

“You and me both sweetheart. You and me both.” You looked over at him and it was at that moment that you knew. You were in love with him.

You knocked back another shot as you tried to shake the memories out of your head. You weren’t worried about getting drunk anytime soon. Working somewhere like Statesman, you built a huge tolerance for alcohol. 

“I'm not in a band.” Clara grabbed her head in embarrassment. “Oh, God. Who did you think I was? Please don't say someone ghastly.” Her voice echoed through your comms and you downed two more shots.

“I’m sure she plays for Hozi-dead. I mean, geez, sweetpea, go outside.” You heard Eggsy snort and chuckle into the comms as he tried to catch his breath.

“Fucking hell Gin.” You held up a shot in his direction before downing it, letting out a quiet hiss from the burn. 

Whiskey wanted to laugh and he had to hide it with a cough as he listened to your sweet voice. He loved it when you were jealous. That’s what he hoped you were. If you were jealous, then there was the sliver of a chance he could fix things. “God damn it, now I feel like a fool. I just assumed that a woman with your charisma…” You felt your insides turn and feel like lava as you took another shot. “Well, she just had to be somebody.” Even though you recovered, even though you swore to not fall for it again, even though you trained yourself to be better, within a few minutes of listening to Whiskey, you were falling back into the same hole that was loving him.

“Right. Thank you.” You downed your last two shots before talking into the comms. 

“I think I’m going to go watch some shows, I’ll see you boys later at our tent.” Without waiting for a response, you disconnected your comm and tracker, leaving them on the bar counter, needing some alone time to think. Whiskey wanted to tell you to stay, to just give him a few minutes but he couldn’t, not with Clara staring so intensely at him. He looked away in the direction where you were and took a deep breath.

“No, it's okay. I know you didn't mean to make me feel like a dumbass. So I'll let you make it up to me by letting me buy you a drink.” Whiskey snapped his fingers at the bartender trying to get his attention. Clara watched unamused. 

She raised her finger as she spoke. “Follow my finger.”

Clara swiped her fingers a few times to the left. Whiskey followed her finger every time before he chuckled and raised his eyebrow in confusion. “What are we doing?”

“Swiping to the left. What, you don't do Tinder in America?”

“Tinder what?”

Eggsy finally approached the pair as he nodded. “Do you know, I think it's probably a generational thing. It translates as "Go away, old man." Whiskey cleared his throat as he filled his mind with thoughts of you to keep his cool and not punch Eggsy.

“Be good, be cool. Bye.” Whiskey took another sip of his flask as he walked out of the V.I.P. area in search of you. He knew it was probably not going to work but he flipped out his phone, pulling up your name. He smiled fondly at the picture he had as your contact, He took it the night you slept together. You were asleep on his chest, resting your head on his heart with your hair flowing across your back. He had his arm wrapped around you possessively. The angle was perfect and he took a picture, a selfie of the both of you, in remembrance. He had taken many pictures of you that night but that was his favorite. He thought back to the countless times he would look back at your photos, staring at the ones he had of you sleeping, of you riding him, of you laying naked and stretched out on his bed. You drove him crazy.

He shot you a quick text, watching for a few minutes, waiting for the read sign to pop up. Fortunately, it did and so did the little bubble indicating you were responding. He felt his mouth go dry and he couldn’t remember a time he felt this nervous. A few minutes later and a message from you appeared on his phone but it wasn’t something he wanted to see.

8:01 PM - Whiskey - Sweetheart, where are you? 

8:13 PM - Gin - Isn’t trying to apply the tracker more important than where I am?

8:14 PM - Whiskey - Baby girl, please. Eggsy is the one placing the tracker on Clara. I just want to talk. 

Whiskey sighed angrily through his nose as he responded back immediately. You opened the message and you could feel the sincerity. The one thing that Whiskey has only ever reserved for you was babygirl. You used it all the time and so did a lot of the agents but Whiskey never did. He had only ever used it with you. It was too intimate for him. You bit your lip as you stared at your phone. 

8:22 PM - Gin - I need some time J

8:23 PM - Whiskey - I’ll be waiting baby girl

Whiskey sighed as he read your text and decided to wait for you at your tent. He walked in, looking around before deciding to sit down on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees and his chin in between his hands. He didn’t blame you for the way you were acting. Hell, he was expecting worse but he wanted to show you he had changed. He wanted you to see he wanted you. He had asked for a transfer back to the Kentucky offices a few months ago but he was denied by Champ because of you. Requesting again, Champ said he needed your approval to make the transfer. Whiskey knew it was going to be hard but he wanted to fight for you. 

Glancing at his watch after a few hours, Whiskey noticed it was going to be close to midnight. He was starting to get worried. He knew he couldn’t get a hold of you so he waited. A few minutes later, the tent door slowly opened and you stepped into the tent. Whiskey stopped his pacing, his head snapping up to meet your eyes. You stood there timidly as you tried to gather your thoughts. You had spent the last few hours trying to get Whiskey out of your head but you couldn’t. You thought you were ready to confront him but seeing him now, every logical argument you had was thrown out the window. 

Whiskey felt his heart pump with adrenaline as he made his way over to you, hugging you tightly, holding you as hard as he could. You gave in and wrapped your arms around him as he kissed your head. “I’m so sorry baby girl. I’m so sorry. Fuck, I was so worried.” You took a shaky breath against his chest and you were overwhelmed with his scent. He smelled exactly like you remembered. Leather, Whiskey, and some cheap but surprisingly sweet-smelling cologne. He rested his face on the top of your head, inhaling you and surrounding himself with all that was you. 

“Whiskey w-wait.” You were overwhelmed. You pushed Whiskey away as you took a deep breath, wrapping your arms around yourself, feeling vulnerable. “You can’t just say sorry and expect everything to be okay, not after everything you did.”

“I know, baby, I know. But you gotta let me try to fix things. You gotta let me show you.”

“I know enough to know that people don’t change.”

“Gin, I haven't touched a girl in months, since I went to New York.” You took a shaky breath at this and you felt your lip tremble. Whiskey had left for New York a year and a half ago and it shocked you. “You’re all I think about. Your smile, your scent, your laugh, your stupid jokes. The way you moan my name and call me those sweet, sweet things. The way your skin is so soft and the way you say you’re mine. I miss you.” Whiskey slowly started to walk towards you, cornering you between him and the wall. “Champ told me to not try anything but I just, you make me weak, baby.” 

“Why wait until now?” Whiskey chuckled as he dragged a hand down his face in frustration.

“Baby girl, you wouldn’t answer my calls or texts and when I was in Kentucky, you wouldn’t let me near you. I tried.” You chewed your lip guiltily. He moved closer until he was inches away from you. He reached up gently, cupping your cheek with one hand, and he moved his other to hold onto your hip. He was holding on hard and you knew you would have bruises in the morning. He dragged his thumb against your lip so gently as if you’d break under his hold. Your eyes watered and you looked up at him with all the emotions you kept away. He reached up with his thumb to brush away your tears. You wanted to move. Every part of your body screamed for you to leave, to not give in but your heart was saying you needed to stay in his arms. You believed he had changed and you hoped with every fibre of your being you were right. 

Whiskey tilted your head up to look at him as he leaned in and brushed his lips against yours. “Tell me to stop and I will baby girl. Because if you don’t, I won’t hold back. I can't. I crave you too much." He didn't kiss your lips but made his way down, kissing down your jaw. He moved towards your neck, acting quickly to mark you as his. Once he pulled away, there was a large purple hickey on your skin. He kissed down your shoulders, marking and biting you as much as he could. "I've missed your skin." 

You whimpered under his touch as you closed your eyes tightly, letting his mouth overwhelm you. You moaned quietly. "J-jack." Whiskey groaned his approval before kissing his way back up to your lips. He kissed you roughly, tangling his hand into your hair, as he held you against him. He moved his hands down your body until they got to your ass. He squeezed hard, pulling you up by your thighs to wrap around his waist. You happily obliged, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you to the bed. 

"I fucking missed you, darling." He moved to lay you down on the bed, caressing you as he hovered over you, looking down at you, searching for anything to tell him you didn't want this, that you didn't want him. All he saw in your eyes was your love for him. He moved his hand to your shirt and pulled it off as he inhaled sharply. He would never get tired of seeing you. "You're so beautiful, baby." He slowly unhooked your bra, tossing it across the room before leaning down and taking one of your nipples into his mouth. You whimpered under him, moving one of your hands into his hair as he sucked hard, biting your nipple and pulling back, letting it fall. He did the same with your other breast, teasing you. He kissed around your skin, leaving dark marks wherever he could. He pulled a couple of giggles from your lips as his mustache tickled your skin. He smiled against you. 

You reached up to tug on his shirt. You needed to feel his skin against yours. Whiskey immediately obliged and took off his leather jacket, draping it on a chair nearby as he started to unbutton his shirt, slowly revealing his dark, tanned skin that you loved so much. You sat up, peppering his skin with kisses before licking from his lower abdomen up to his chest, pulling a growl from him as he pinned you down by your wrists. He held them over your head with one hand as he used the other to cup your cheek gently, admiring all of your features. You blushed under his intense gaze, looking away from him. "Don't look away from me ever again, baby girl." You whimpered as you returned your gaze to him, seeing the lust building in his eyes. 

Whiskey reached down to your small, booty shorts that you chose to wear for the festival, unbuttoning them. He was impatient and he moved his hand quickly inside them, rubbing you over your panties. You gasped and slowly rocked your hips against him as he growled lowly from his chest. "So fucking wet. Is all that for me baby girl?" 

"Y-yes Jack… always thinking of you." 

"Fuck baby." You closed your eyes tightly as you arched your back. He brushed his fingers over your clit and you were a mess. He watched you in complete amazement. This was better than he remembered. He let go of your hands, moving his way down your body before getting to your shorts, pulling them off roughly with your panties. He spread your legs wide, staring at your soaking wet cunt and he moaned. "You have the prettiest pussy I've ever seen, princess. Fucking beautiful." Whiskey dragged a finger from your clit to your hole and you moaned softly. It should've embarrassed you how open and bare you were for him but you craved the attention he was giving you. 

Whiskey got impatient and leaned forward, attaching his lips to your clit before sucking roughly, groaning at your state. He was everywhere and you couldn't catch up. He was eating you out like a starved man. Soon, his tongue was joined by two of his fingers pumping into your pussy. He moaned as he sucked your arousal, pulling off with a loud slurp. That made you blush intensely. "Taste fucking better than I remember." Whiskey was very hard in his jeans and it was starting to hurt. He reached down, unbuckling his belt and his jeans, letting some relief get to him as he continued to suck your cunt like he wouldn't ever again. He didn't relent and you knew he wouldn't until you came. It really didn't take long as he inserted a third finger, pumping quick and rough into your pussy, your arousal coating your thighs. With one last suck on your clit, your body was surrounded with waves of pleasure. You cried out Whiskey's name as he didn't relent, sucking even harder, drinking all of your arousal up. You twitched from the over sensitivity, trying to pull Whiskey off of you. 

"J-jack, hold o-on." Whiskey laughed as he relented and kissed his way back up to your lips. 

"Sorry baby girl. You know I love your pussy. Always get lost in it." You kissed him affectionately as you pushed him to stand, crawling down the bed until you got the edge and you moved down to your knees. You finished unzipping his jeans, tugging them down, releasing his impressive length. "Baby, you don't hav- ah fuck!" You didn't let Whiskey finish as you took his length into your mouth, pushing to take him all the way. You were a bit more than half ways before his cock hit the back of your throat. You suppressed your gags as you pushed to take all of his length. His hand came down to your hair, holding you in place as you choked on his cock. Your eyes watered and you felt the tears fall down your cheek as you pulled back with a loud gasp. You panted as you took his cock in your hand, pumping his shaft as you caught your breath. Whiskey's head fell back from the pleasure, moaning out, feeling like he was getting too close for his liking. You were going to take him back into your mouth but he stopped you. "Baby girl, I'm way too close and I'd like to finish inside of you." 

You whined as he lifted you back onto the bed, his body covering yours seconds later. He pumped his cock a few times before lining himself up with your entrance. He looked into your eyes wanting reassurance before slowly pushing into you, the room full of your pants and moans. He slipped all the way in, staying still so you could get used to him. He peppered your face with kisses, leaving you a giggling mess. "Jack, move p-please." 

Whiskey complied and pulled back, leaving only the head of his cock inside of you before thrusting back roughly. Soon, he found a rhythm and he was pounding into you. He moved one of his hands down to your thigh, holding you possessively as he pulled your leg up to wrap around his hip. You let him take charge of your body, as he thrust over and over, filling you up like no one else could. "So tight princess. So." With every word he said, he thrusted harder and harder into you. "Fucking. Tight." You cried out in pleasure, raking your fingers down his back, long red strips coloring his skin. Whiskey let his face fall against your shoulder as he started to falter in his rhythm, getting close to his climax. He reached between your bodies, rubbing your clit, wanting you to cum first. "Come on baby, cum for me. I know you can." 

Your body jerked at the sudden increase of pleasure and you moaned like a whore being fucked at church. You wrapped your arms tightly around him, feeling every breath he took, every moan that vibrated through his chest. You felt every word he spoke to you and you felt what you did to him. You felt safe in his arms. This was where you always had belonged, with Whiskey, in his embrace. Before you could even prepare, your orgasm hit you harder than you could've expected. Your body was on fire as every thrust heightened your pleasure, sending you to a new heaven. Whiskey moved both hands to either side of your face as he held himself above you, his muscles clenching. He knew he was about to cum and he needed his strength to not fall on you. "Fuck, baby, I'm gonna c- Fuck, I love you, baby girl!" A few more thrusts inside your tight entrance and he was cumming, filling you with his thick seed. 

You laid there, frozen and in shock but it had nothing to do with him releasing inside of you. It was the words he cried into your ear as he came. He panted heavily, trying to catch his breath as he hovered over you. You pulled him into you, loving the weight of him on top of you. You felt his rapid beating heart matching yours. You laid there in blissed silence. After you both had finally calmed down and Whiskey let his fingers roam all over your skin, you found the courage to speak, or in this case, whisper. "Did you mean it?"

"Mean what darling?"

"Do you love me?" Whiskey stiffened for a second before relaxing and turning to look at you. You looked so radiant under the candlelight of the tent and he wondered just how he could be so lucky. After losing his first love, he swore he wouldn't love another. He didn't deserve to. That's what he said to himself every day until he met you. You were his second chance at a good life. He dragged his finger gently across your forehead to your nose and then to your lips, rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip. He plopped himself up with his other arm and pulled you under him as he nudged his nose against your cheek, inhaling and humming quietly. Your scents were mixed perfectly and he loved how he could scent his cologne on your skin. 

"Yes. I’ll love you until the cows come home. You're all I want, baby girl." You felt your heart soar and you pulled him down for a sweet kiss. You poured all of your love into it. You weren't prepared to say it back just yet but you knew he knew. Whiskey knew you loved him and you didn't need to say it. He slowly kissed down your jaw, covering every inch of your skin with a kiss. It didn't take long for him to harden and for round two to commence. All night, you made love in the tent until the morning. 

You were exhausted after the many sessions you both had and you were asleep, tucked into Whiskey's side. His arm was wrapped protectively around you, holding you tightly against him. You didn't expect this side to him but you loved it. You slowly stirred in your quiet slumber, knowing you had to return to the agency to prepare for anything to appear for the mission. You felt a heavyweight against your hip and you smiled, remembering everything from the night before. You never expected things to go this way but you were happy. You turned in his hold for a little, and watched him sleep. He looked so peaceful, like all the worries that weighed heavy on his shoulders were gone. You loved seeing him like this and you silently vowed to yourself to try and help him feel like that more often. You leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on his lips before deciding to get up for the day. It was going to be a long day and you felt it in your bones.

Forever Tags: @iwantthedean @authoressskr @sorenmarie87 @reigningqueenofwords @goldenolaf25 @giftofdreams @winchesterprincessbride @chelsea072498 @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian @itakeawfultoawholenewlevel @fictionalabyss @gabby913 @angelkurenai @sea040561 @sleepylunarwolf @smoothdogsgirl @carryonmyswansong @feelmyroarrrr @evyiione @sofreddie @sis-tafics @nitelotus @trexrambling  @manawhaat @mermaidxatxheart @winchest09 @ellen-reincarnated1967​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @just-another-busy-fangirl​ @lovebodymindstuff​ @backseat-of-deans-67chevy​ @chook007​ @akshi8278​ @evansrogerskitten​ @bringmesomepie56​ @persephonehemingway​ @blacktithe7​ @donnaintx​ @queenxxxsupreme​ @whitewolfandthefox​ @riviawitch3r​

Agent Whiskey Tags: @thesadvampire​ @le-roman-rose @mcudisiac​ @someone-take-my-bagelseverywhere​ @chibi-liz05​ @marvel-avengers01​ @themandjalorian​ @floccodineveautunnale @jassiepoohbear @gollyderek​ @retrobhaddie​ @wolf-lover74​ @paryl​ @laubeck10​ @ithinkwehitametaphor​ @wizard-b1tch​ @domino-oh-damn​ @c-ly-g​ @rosamedina92​ @sunshinepascal​ @ariespedro​ @libellule2001​ @ohpedromypedro​ @two-unbeatable-beaters​ 

Tags I think would be interested(please don’t hate): @spacegayofficial​ @ariasfandom​ @lannister-slings-and-arrows​ @sendhoots​ @stevieharrrr​ @dindjarindiaries​ @hiscyarika​ @qveenbvtch​ @forever-rogue​ @jimmythegirl​  @catfishingmorales​ @generaldamneron​ @cptnbvcks​ @swhiskeys​ @honeychicanawrites​ @scribbledghost​ @thepascalorian​ @ladydahliawrites​ @roboboyjinx-writes​ @zeldasayer​ @damerondjarin​ @aint-that-a-mcfreakin-bitch​ @aerynwrites​ @mandadoration​  @absurdthirst​ @huliabitch​  @gryffindorwriter​ @ghostofthebarricade​ @astrolo-galaxy​ @siempre-pedro​ @cherryplasmids​ @madadlorian​ @sithlordmando​ @bubble-tea-bunny​ @beskars​ @longitud-de-onda​ @archieimagines​ @outfatuating​ @lesqui​ @inknopewetrust​ @menacingmandalorian​ @softpedropascal​ @pascalisthepunkest​ @swimmingbyrd​ @buckyodinson​ @everstarry​  @naivesansa​ @waywardodysseys​ @paniclana​ @tiffdawg​ @siempre-pedro​ @fandom-imagines-stories​ @umbrellasandlassos​ @kingsmanstories​ @bucks-angels​ @the-real-xhorse​

[kessielrg]

A Quiet Place

Summary: Inspired by a rp that @chibi-mushroom and @animacreates are doing with each other. I’ve lovingly dubbed it the ‘chaos rp’ because it’s kinda how it started out. And while the rp was also meant to be fandom specific, this little story was written to be mostly removed from that context. You might recognize some names though if you’ve been following me for awhile (or look at the tags). This story has a second part. You can read it: here.

Rating: K+

Word Count: 2,085 words

If you liked this story, please reblog.

. . .

Every kid had their challenges. It didn't matter if they were your blood or not, they just did. These two particular kids were warned as being extra challenging- with less than subtle wording indicating the girl in particular was the one who made things difficult. Oswald looked at the kid's photographs, then at their case worker, and said but one single word on the matter; “Good.”

In retrospect, though, he should have given Ortensia a greater warning on these two. She had always wanted children -even before they had gotten married-, and hearing that they were going to foster two kids nearly made her bounce off the walls. She didn't waste any time setting up two bedrooms with all sorts of little things she'd thought the kids would like. Proper things like soap and toiletries, and then general 'welcome to the family' gifts like toys and prepaid phones. When the kids actually got there, Oswald literally had to hold her by her shirt collar so she wouldn't hug them to death.

The boy, Blaine, seemed rather charmed by Ortensia at the get-go. He was the one who gave the proper introductions. The girl, Sabrina, held her suitcase with both hands and at her side like she planned on smacking someone with it. Her face holding a look of utter contempt that it nearly made her look older than she was. Oswald knew with all his heart that Ortensia meant well, but in her excitement, she quite easily forgot to notice the child's body cues. It didn't help in getting the girl to open up. If anything, Ortensia was making things worse.

He purposely let her forget to get groceries this morning. He knew he was going to need to separate her from the kids once she met them.

At least that meant their house tour was done in a slow, linear fashion instead of filled with several mildly irrelevant anecdotes. Never once did Sabrina let down her suitcase. She held it close to her like it was her only possession in the world. (And it very likely was. That was a thought that hurt old Oswald's heart in ways he couldn’t describe.) Blaine had been the one to gently suggest she leave it in her room. Even with her brother's approval, the child was still hesitant. She did end up sitting her stuff down eventually. Blaine was the one that suggested they go back out to the living room to wait for Ortensia to come back, and Oswald couldn't find a reason to disagree. He let the kids lead- it seemed only fair at this point.

“I want to apologize for how rude my sis is being.” Blaine said once everyone had found a place to sit. “Each family we go to, she seems to get more quiet and more scowl-y. If she didn't have such high opinions of certain people and things, then she'd almost take a vow of silence.”

That got some kind of reaction from the girl. She kicked him with the side of her foot; a motion that looked to have quite a bit of force to it, but Blaine didn't flinch. Oswald got a violent flashback to how he and his brother used to treat each other. He quickly shook his head. His brother had ruined more than one thing in his life before, and he wasn't going to take this either.

“It's alright.” he then said. “I can't imagine how stressful all the constant moving around must be for you guys. Once we get into a rhythm (and Ortensia calms down a bit) things should get easier. We won't force you two to do anything you're not comfortable with. I promise it.”

Both siblings looked like he had just punched them in the gut.

“Thanks...” Blaine stammered once he remembered his manners- his eyes averting from Oswald. Sabrina, too, curled a bit tighter inside herself. Their reactions were… odd, to say the least, but Oswald nearly feared questioning it. It's not like he could say he wouldn't force them into anything, then tell them to spill whatever was on their mind.

“I think I'll be fine.” Blaine then said. He tried to sit up proper again, to be an authoritative figure between the two kids. “It's Sabi that's the tough nut to crack. Too much activity and she retreats to her own little hideaway- wherever it tends to be that day.”

“I get that.” Oswald agreed with a nod; perfectly ignoring the stink eye Sabrina was giving Blaine. “I built that little extension above the garage just so I could be alone.” Oswald blinked when a thought came to him. “I have an idea.” he then offered. “Sabrina, how about you follow me for a second. We can come right back after.”

Sabrina gave Blaine a wary look, but at her brother's firm nod, she relented. Oswald offered her a half grin in response before he got up. He gestured for her to follow. He didn't look back- trusting that she would be behind. She did follow. Perhaps by a good foot or two, but she followed him. (Her brother was following as well, by the way. Just out of eye range, but close enough so she could still feel his presence.) Oswald led them through the house and over to the garage. There was a staircase that went up to a second floor, Oswald opened it to enter the room. He left it open to allow Sabrina time to come in if she wanted to. (At this point, Blaine was at the bottom of the stairs, also waiting to see what she would do.) She took a breath in, and followed Oswald inside.

The child was greeted to a room that was a mix of a living room and a workshop. The generously sized area had a CRT TV against a wall, with a dark blue velvet couch in front. Against another wall was a large desk- there was something that looked like a small coo-coo clock on it, next to a decent sized container of tools. On the wall next to that was a well abused recliner, a bookcase filled with books of various sizes, and even a box that looked to have nothing but broken junk in it.

“I suggest making yourself comfortable on the big sofa.” Oswald offered, gesturing to the dark blue couch. “It’s got plenty of room to stretch out. You can even put on a movie too if you feel like.”

Sabrina still hung by the door. Her body was scrunched as if she could disappear just by looking as small as possible. Oswald didn't force her any further into the room. If anything, he went over to the desk to check on the dissected clock than paid any real attention to her. She was waiting. She was waiting for the moment when he forced her to do something- anything. After five minutes, it didn't happen. Giving the room a rather disgusted glance, Sabrina slowly started to move her body to the couch. She flinched when the couch squeaked slightly at her sitting down. She flinched again when Oswald started to talk, thinking she was in trouble.

“Once Ortensia realizes that we’re here, she won’t come bother us. I made it a rule.”

The child's face scrunched as she looked over at him. She really wanted to ask why, but she didn’t want him to think she was opening up. Instead, she pressed herself against a corner of the couch and said nothing. Oswald still wasn't paying attention to her, still talking more to himself than anyone else.

“Ortensia means well, she's just not aware of her own strength- so to speak. I don't blame you for turning down every hug she tries to give.” He gave a small chortle before adding, “There are days when I don't want her to hug me. And we've known each since middle school.”

This was when Oswald finally looked back at Sabrina. Words couldn't even begin to describe how relieved he was that she was still in the room- let alone sitting down. His hand absently went over the thick afghan blanket that he had draped over his desk chair. It had been a wedding gift that was passed down from generation to generation. The blanket was knit together in a ripple pattern using light blue, dark blue, and faded pink lamb's wool. One of Oswald's fingers traced over the knit before he had an idea.

“Here.” Oswald said as he tossed the blanket her way. “You hide under this, then I'll pretend you're not there. I can do my thing, and you can do yours. I won't talk to ya unless you want to.”

The girl just stared at him before covering herself up with the blanket. At first, she was less than amused that the heavy blanket nearly smacked her when he had tossed it. She took it with two fingers as she looked it over. Noting that it was a little worn, but cleaned, Sabrina carefully placed it over her shoulders. She wrapped herself up snugly, covering even her head, and laid down on the couch curled into a ball like she was nothing no more than a lumpy bolster pillow. Oswald smirked a bit. But he knew he wasn't going to say anything about it. This kid had to move on her own time- that was a lesson he knew well.

He hated to admit it; but he saw a lot of himself in her.

“You have any music preferences, kid?” he asked as he went over to where he kept his portable phonograph. An original Edison, crank and all. Took him the greater part of a summer to get it back together again.

“I don't exist.”

Oswald blinked before realizing what she meant. “Oh. Right, right.” he agreed. “Sorry about that. Lemme just put on something then...”

He thoughtfully hummed as he went through his record collection. When he found a good one, Oswald let out a sound of happy discovery. He pulled out a record from its sleeve, flipped it in his hands before blowing on it a bit, then placed the record on the turntable. From her spot on the couch, it was a bit hard to watch him crank the player up and move the needle over to the record. There was no way Sabrina was moving from her spot, though- she was way too comfortable now. When the player gave way to static, Oswald was satisfied enough to go to his desk. He started work on his project as a jazzy song started to say.

“Listen while I tell you about a gal named Daisy Mae. They called her 'Lazy Daisy Mae.' Her reputation I'm afraid is all that people say. Midnight begins her working day. She had a man that was tall and handsome; large and strong. She used to sing this song;”

“Hey daddy!” Oswald sang along in baritone. “I want a diamond ring- bracelets, everything. Daddy, you outta get the best for meeee…!”

Sabrina tried to watch him with a critical eye, but it was rather hard when he kept half humming, half singing along to the song. He really was going to act like she wasn't there, huh? Which was all fine and dandy- she had no interest in whatever he was fixing up. The only sound in the room besides the record player was him shuffling his tools around for another. She didn't like how relaxing it was. This was always the part where someone came through the door, demanding attention to something else in the scariest voice possible. But it didn't happen. She knew that no one was going to interrupt them. This weird fella and his wife? They were genuine.

So far.

They were genuine, so far.

That 'so far' was incredibly important, you know. Just as scary; if not more so.

She didn't want her eyes to close. She didn't want to be relaxed. She wanted to resist the urge to go to sleep here. It wasn't working. But constantly being on guard for something bad to happen was exhausting. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to get a little sleep. Besides, to Oswald, she didn't exist. He was the only other person in the room with her, and he surely wasn't going to stop whatever he was doing just to make small talk with her. After letting out a small sigh, Sabrina went into a dreamless sleep in seconds.

[goindownshipping]

‘ focus on my voice. ’ - will you please do Stucky where Steve and Bucky don't go to Wakanda after Civil War?

And time's forever frozen still

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes (Stucky)

Rating: Teen (T)

Notes: Yet again, thanks for your patience with this one, @ohwereusingourmadeupnames​! This canon divergence was tough, but I so loved writing it!

Warnings: Stucky fluff and rediscovering their love post Civil War. Let’s just pretend Bucky didn’t lose his metal arm in the fight in Siberia and neither of them are too injured :)

Word count: 6.5k

Summary:

Bucky goes home with Steve after the fight in Siberia. Even though Bucky doesn't quite trust himself, something tells him to trust Steve. They learn a lot together and Bucky discovers parts of his past he never knew existed.

Leaving Tony on the cold, hard ground in Siberia was one of the most difficult things Steve Rogers had faced in recent years, but it was certainly not the worst he’d faced. The worst was when he thought Bucky had been killed in Azzano; then it was watching Bucky fall from the train and not being able to save him; then it was coming face to face with Bucky decades later only to find out he had no idea who Steve Rogers was. So yes, fighting Tony and leaving him in Siberia wasn’t his finest moment, but he was sure as hell not about to let Bucky slip through his fingers again.

 Both men had been quiet upon boarding the quinjet, still shaken from the fight at the airport and then in Siberia. Bucky sat still, trying to differentiate among a plethora of memories and images flashing behind his eyes. Being back in that facility sent him deep within his own mind, flashes of atrocities reminding him of who he was. What he was. 

 “Where are you taking me?” Bucky asked quietly. His head was vibrating, he needed something to focus on besides the scene they left behind.

 Steve hesitated. “Fury helped me set up a safe house a few years back. I haven’t needed it until now, but it’ll be a good place for us to settle down for a bit.”

 “Steve,” Bucky started.

 “No, don’t,” Steve said firmly.

 Bucky stopped, knowing how stubborn Steve could be. That realization surprised Bucky a bit. Over the past couple of years, he’d come to trust himself little by little, but his memories were still foreign. Most of them felt like dreams that he could just barely remember the premise of. At that moment, he knew not to argue with Steve. He didn’t know exactly why, but somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, he knew the argument wouldn’t be worth it.

 The realization was somewhat comforting, but he knew how easily his mind could betray him, how quickly the switch could flip on him. He let out a long sigh, knowing nothing productive would come from a fight on the jet. Bucky settled back, closing his eyes and wishing for sleep for the long flight to wherever Steve’s safe house was. 

 With the autopilot engaged, Steve looked over his shoulder to where Bucky was dozing behind him. He covered his mouth when a sob threatened to escape from his chest, wracking his entire body where he sat. Just seeing Bucky safe in front of him was enough to send him into a full spiral, thinking back to the number of times Bucky had protected him when they were kids. Bucky may not remember everything, hell he might not remember anything, but Steve did. Steve couldn’t, wouldn’t, forget anything.

 He wouldn’t let Bucky down this time. He couldn’t fail him again. Steve finally had a chance to take care of the person that meant more to him than anyone in the world and he wouldn’t squander it. He tried not to think about all the memories that had surely been burned out of Bucky’s brain by this point. He knew his resolve would crumble the second he let himself relive those moments.

 He shook his head, hoping to physically dislodge the images swirling in his head, and instead focused on how to stay under the radar when the whole world was supposedly on the lookout for Captain America and his no-longer-dead best friend. He thought about Tony and the look in his eye when Steve dropped his shield. He knew he had to fix it, he had to fix everything. 

 But right now, right now he had to take care of Bucky. That was it. That was his mission, and come hell or high water, he would do right by him.

 Bucky managed to sleep for most of the long flight, only waking when the quinjet hit a couple unexpected bumps.

 “We almost there, Stevie?” he asked sleepily.

 Steve’s breath caught in his throat at the nickname and softness in Bucky’s tone.

 “We still have a long way to go. You can go back to sleep Buck,” Steve managed to choke out.

 When Steve glanced back, Bucky was already fast asleep again, a small smile on his face. Steve hadn’t heard that nickname in decades, and he certainly didn’t expect to hear it from Bucky ever again. Ignoring the inkling of hope in his gut, Steve refocused on their flight path, noting the several hours until their final approach. At that, he decided to get some sleep himself before landing at the house. 

 A while later, Steve awoke to a soft beeping from the controls, alerting him that they were approaching their landing. Quickly wiping the sleep from his eyes, Steve switched off autopilot to guide the jet down toward the massive field adjacent to the house. By the time the jet came to rest, and the engines had come to a stop, Bucky was awake and trying to get a glimpse of their surroundings.

 “Where are we?”

 “Home, for the time being. But specifically, we’re somewhere in Kansas. Come on, let’s get inside.”

Steve and Bucky exited the jet and made their way to a modest looking farmhouse. Steve entered a lengthy pin on the keypad at the front door before gesturing for Bucky to step inside. Bucky made his way inside, glancing around as he made his way down the front hall. For a house that had supposedly never been used, it was awfully homey. Steve seemed to notice the appraisal.

 “I wanted it to feel like home if I ever came here. Besides, where else was I going to keep my things?” Steve shrugged.

 Most of Steve’s personal belongings were long gone after he put the Valkyrie in the ice, but the few boxes that SHIELD managed to hang on to now lived here. He had a few family photos hanging, several of which contained Bucky. Neither man acknowledged it, but Steve noticed Bucky’s gaze lingering on a few select photos.

 “Ma always wanted you in the family photos,” Steve admitted.

 Bucky smiled but it didn’t quite meet his eyes.

 “Steve, are you sure this is a good idea? I’m putting you in more danger just being here.”

 “Bucky,” Steve said slowly, stepping toward him. “Where else are you gonna go?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky admitted. “The Wakandan prince said something about his sister knowing what to do, maybe it would be best if I went out there. They can get my mind back.”

 Steve shook his head violently. “No, I can’t let you do that Bucky.”

 “Steve this is a terrible idea, I’m just gonna hurt you if we stay here.”

 “Bucky, you’re not going to hurt me. I’m not letting you go out in the world and try to deal with this on your own again, I can’t do that.”

 “I don’t want to hurt you.”

 Steve took one final step toward Bucky, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t spook him. “I know you don’t believe me yet, but we’re gonna be okay. Alright? You always took care of me when we were kids and now it’s my turn. You hear me?”

 “But Steve, I don’t, I could-”

 “No Buck, don’t go there. I’m not letting you go through this on your own,” Steve said firmly.

 Bucky paused, looking up at Steve’s face directly in front of him. Steve’s face was hard, determined. But his eyes were wide with fear and the slightest bit of hurt. Taking in Steve’s expression, Bucky took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

 “Listening to you helps. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s not like I just remember things all of a sudden, but hearing you talk is safe, it blocks out the bad stuff. It was what gave me a hint that I knew you on the bridge, and then again on the helicarrier. I don’t know how, but I just knew. Even when I can’t trust my own mind, something tells me to trust you.”

 “We can handle that. You just tell me when it’s getting bad and focus on my voice. Think you can do that?”

 “I can try.”

 “Good. Then we’re good.”

 Steve gave Bucky’s shoulder one final squeeze before taking a step back.

 “It’s late Buck, let me show you where the guest room is and get you settled.”

 Bucky nodded and trailed after Steve like a puppy. Once again, Bucky was surprised by the sheer amount of belongings Steve had in the house. Steve got him situated with some clothes, toiletries, and towels and showed him his room with an attached bathroom. Once Steve had shown Bucky to his room, he paused in the doorway.

 “My room is just down the hall,” Steve gestured to a doorway to his left. “You can always come get me if you need anything, Buck,” Steve said softly.

 Steve looked conflicted, as if he was considering saying something else. His eyes flitted around, settling anywhere but Bucky’s face.

 “Thank you, Steve.”

 Steve’s eyes snapped up to Bucky’s. “You don’t have to thank me. This is what you do for someone you-”

 Steve and Bucky just blinked at each other. 

 “This is what you do for someone important to you,” Steve finished quietly.

 Bucky just nodded, the faintest hint of a smile on his face. “Goodnight, Steve.”

 “Goodnight Bucky.”

 If Bucky didn’t close the door until after he saw Steve disappear into his own room, no one had to know. When Steve pulled his own door shut, he smiled softly at the click he heard from down the hall.

 What could have been minutes or hours later, Bucky awoke with a start, his throat raw, and his entire body tremoring. It took him a moment to register the hands on his shoulders, shaking him awake. Instinctively he shoved the attacker in chest, his metal arm causing enough force to create plenty of distance between them.

 “Buck, Bucky it’s me, it’s Steve,” he heard through the darkness.

 He took a shuddering breath, quickly remembering his surroundings and current circumstances. Steve. Steve is good, Steve helps.

 “Steve,” he wheezed.

 He sat up in bed, his back pressed against the headboard as he watched Steve carefully approach from the other side of the room, where his shove had thrown him.

 “Can I sit next to you?” Steve asked carefully.

 With his eyes now pressed shut, Bucky just nodded, trying to focus on Steve’s voice and the memories he knew were real. He thought about Steve taking him to Siberia, their trip here in the quinjet, Steve getting him settled. It was all real. He held on to those little bits of certainty with everything he had.

 He felt the bed dip and assumed Steve had sat down on the edge of the bed. He didn’t dare open his eyes yet.

 “I’m sorry I scared you Buck, I heard you yelling from down the hall and it scared the shit outta me,” Steve said soothingly. “I just wanted to come and make sure you’re alright, I’m sorry I scared you,” he repeated. 

 “It’s okay,” Bucky said tightly. “Just keep talking, please. Anything.”

 “Alright, Buck, it’s alright.” Steve placed a tentative hand on Bucky’s knee through the blankets and squeezed, hoping the minimal physical contact wouldn’t be too much for Bucky.

 “When we were kids, I stayed the night at your house a lot, especially if my Ma was working the night shift. Sometimes, your Ma would let us pull all the couch cushions down onto the floor and we’d make our own little fort with blankets and chairs and stuff.” Steve smiled at the memory, remembering their muffled laughter and whispered conversations into the wee hours of the morning.

 “This one time in high school though, it’d been years since we’d done that, and in the middle of the night, we decided to set up camp on the floor. I guess we didn’t realize how uncomfortable couch cushions were when they were on the floor when we were in grade school, because, God, I don’t think either of us got a wink of sleep that night. At some point, we just gave up and put the cushions back on the couch and just fell straight to sleep. Your Ma came out in the morning and found us knocked out on the sofa, blankets and chairs all over the room.”

 Steve looked up to find Bucky watching him with a familiar smile. 

 “I think I remember that,” Bucky said slowly.

 “It’s okay if you don’t, Buck” Steve reminded.

 Bucky shook his head and furrowed his brow, clearly focusing on something in the recesses of his mind.

 “I remember that night. After we went to sleep on the couch, you shoved me on the floor at some point. I remember waking up and you were sprawled across the whole damn sofa. I must have shoved you right back so I could lay back down.”

 The faraway look in Bucky’s eyes had lifted, leaving him with clear, bright, blue eyes and a determined look on his face. His lips twitched a bit, fighting a smile at the memory.

 “I told you your voice helps.”

 Steve smiled, grateful that he’d been able to help Bucky through whatever nightmare he faced. He thought back to that night, his face breaking into a grin. He’d never forget Mrs. Barnes’ face when she emerged that morning to find Steve and Bucky wrapped around each other on the couch. Her smile said everything when Steve and Bucky eventually roused from their slumber. They didn’t know it yet, but she did.

 “I’m glad I can help, Buck. You wanna try to get some more sleep?”

 Bucky nodded, “Yeah, I’ll be okay.”

 “Okay,” Steve hesitated.

 “You alright Steve?”

 “Is it okay that I came in here when I heard you?” Steve whispered.

 Bucky paused. Instinctively, he wanted to say no, to hide his pain from Steve, the one person who actually believed there was still good in him. But he also knew that he couldn’t do this by himself. If Steve was insisting on helping him through this, he had to let him.

 “Yeah, Steve, it’s just fine. Just maybe don’t shake me next time? I don’t want to put you through a wall,” Bucky chuckled.

 “Alright, good,” Steve sighed. “I don’t think I could’ve left you in here when I woke up.”

 There was an awkward pause then, neither man quite knowing what to say. Steve wanted to say so much, reveal the cracked remnants of his heart and memories of him and Bucky. But he couldn’t do that, it wasn’t fair to Bucky to lay everything out there. So he sat and took a few deep breaths before slowly rising to his feet.

 “I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”

 “Thank you, Steve. I’ll see you in the morning,” Bucky said gratefully.

 Steve nodded and shut the door softly before he padded down the hallway, willing the tears not to fall yet. He shut his bedroom door behind him and immediately sank to the floor, his back against the door. With his head in his hands, he let the tears fall silently, hoping his shuddering breath couldn’t be heard down the hall. The fear he’d heard in Bucky’s cries and seen in his eyes was burned into his eyes. He couldn’t bear the thought of how bad Bucky’s episodes must have been just a few years prior. 

 When he finally looked toward his nightstand, the alarm clock alerted him that it was still the middle of the night, no time to be awake. Dragging himself back to his bed, Steve eventually fell asleep to images of the past flashing in his mind. 

 Bucky woke up with a jump the next morning, startled by the unfamiliar surroundings and the softness of the bed. He took in the room and memories flooded back to him. He was at Steve’s safehouse, where Steve insisted they go after escaping Siberia. He glanced at the bedroom door, surprised to see it cracked instead of firmly shut, which he distinctly remembered doing the night before.

 Suddenly, he remembered the nightmare, which must have had him screaming if Steve’s reaction was anything to go by. He took stock of everything, pleased to feel like his head wasn’t splitting down the middle, like he didn’t have another consciousness fighting to come to the surface. He sat in bed for a moment, expecting to hear Steve moving about the house somewhere, but all was quiet. Bucky wasn’t sure whether it was comforting or disheartening to think that Steve had left him home alone on the first morning.

 Shaking those thoughts away, Bucky slid out of bed, the need for coffee overtaking his concern for the moment. Following the hallway to the open living room and kitchen, Bucky was again confronted with all things Steve. Photos, candles, pillows, it all screamed Steve Rogers. Bucky wasn’t sure how exactly he knew that, but he did. He could feel it.

 He meandered into the kitchen, his nose leading him toward the strong coffee he could smell from his room. On the counter next to the coffee pot he found a large mug and a note from Steve.

 Went into town for some groceries, I should be back in the early afternoon. There’s some food in the freezer, but not much. If you need any clothes or anything, there’s extras in my closet. Home phone is on the side table next to the couch, my cell is on speed dial if you need me.

-Steve

 With a large cup of coffee in hand, Bucky headed back to the living room where a large plush sofa was calling his name. He was surprised to find that it was already almost noon, so Steve would likely be back soon. Once settled, he looked around. The cozy room was comforting, nothing like the holding facilities he was used to or the crappy apartments he’d been crashing in for the last few years. This was different. His instincts had him checking for sightlines and mapping out exit strategies, but he tried to push those away and focus on the photos surrounding him. 

 He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised to see himself in so many of the photos given how close he and Steve had been before the fall. Even so, he’d never come face to face with so many reminders of a life he couldn’t remember living. He wondered how many of his own photos and memories would have Steve in them if he ever got his hands on them. 

 Wrapping a blanket around himself, he reached for the television remote, hoping something could distract him from the sudden sadness washing over him. After scrolling through the entire guide several times, Bucky gave up, settling on drinking his coffee in silence. Once he reached the bottom of his mug, he figured it was time for a shower. He quickly realized just how much grime had settled into his skin since Siberia and he was itching for water just hot enough to burn a bit.

 Upon entering his room, he realized Steve had given him towels and toiletries, but only one set of clothes. He hesitated, nervous to snoop through Steve’s space even though his note made it clear he could look for anything he needed. Glancing down at his now dirt and sweat covered clothes, he knew he didn’t have much of a choice.

 Reluctantly, Bucky made his way toward Steve’s room. Upon entering, he was overcome with a sense of comfort. The whole room smelled like coming home after a long day. Bucky always knew that smells could trigger memories that he didn’t know he had, but this was different. This wasn’t a specific memory; it was this innate gut feeling that this was home. That Steve was home.

 Bucky took a deep breath, soaking in the comfort, feeling the safety wrap around him. Call him crazy, but he finally found something that felt right, that felt like it belonged to the version of himself that he was still clawing his way back toward. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t connect all the dots or recall all the specific memories. All that mattered was that he finally had something to latch on to. All that mattered was that Steve trusted him enough to bring him here. All that mattered was Steve.

 He shook that last thought out of his head, unsure of where exactly it came from and headed for the closet on the far side of the bedroom. Sliding the door open, he was faced with what seemed to be Steve’s entire civilian wardrobe. The shelves and hangers were full of everything from soft sweaters and henleys to fitted button-downs and khakis. The very top shelf was what caught Bucky’s attention though.

 The top shelf had several stacks of thick, cable knit sweaters that looked cozy enough for Bucky to bundle up in for the next several weeks. They looked homey and warm - perfect. He reached up, his heart set on a deep blue piece, and his fingers scrabbled to secure the fabric. When he finally grabbed it and yanked it down, the angle brought down several sweaters along with the blue one he was aiming for.

 Bucky shook his head at his clumsiness, knowing that was something that would never leave him. He quickly grabbed the sweaters to refold them and hoist them back up on the shelf. He was on the second to last one, a light sky-blue colored sweater when he felt something stiff inside the fabric. He reached into the sleeve to move whatever had gotten stuck when it fell and came out with a small stack of old photos, clearly printed before Steve went into the ice.

 Bucky looked down and felt all the air rush out of him. He immediately fell to his knees, his entire being knocked off balance by what he saw in the photos. His eyes filled with tears against his will, but through the blur, he could still clearly make out the images.

 The first one in the stack was a photo of him and Steve, clearly taken without them knowing. A young Steve, probably just a matter of months before the serum, was perched on Bucky’s knee with one of Bucky’s arms firmly around his waist. Steve’s head was resting against Bucky’s shoulder, love drunk smiles pasted across both of their faces. Steve was looking up at Bucky, Bucky glancing down at Steve and it was impossible to miss the love evident in their eyes. 

 Bucky collapsed down from his knees, hitting the floor with a thud, but paid no mind to the discomfort as he pulled up the next picture in the stack. The next photo was in a similar vein as the first one but must have been taken during their time as part of the Howling Commandos. How that was possible, Bucky didn’t know. All he knew was that this photo showed Steve in his Captain American uniform, covered in dirt, with his arms wrapped tightly around Bucky in what must have been a bone crushing hug. Bucky’s face was tucked into the crook of Steve’s neck while Steve pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

 Bucky spread out the dozen or so photos on the floor in front of him, each of them indicating just how in love he and Steve must have been back then. In every single photo, they were touching in some way; an arm around the other person, hands held between them, a kiss on the cheek. Even in photos that included their friends or family, it was evident that Steve and Bucky were drawn to each other like magnets, always revolving around each other and finding their way into contact. It appeared that was still true to this day, given that the universe had somehow kept them both alive despite believing the other must be long dead or simply not knowing the other existed, in Bucky’s case.

 He sat on the floor of Steve’s closet just staring at the photos, willing himself to remember just one of these instances. Hating himself for forgetting something so vastly important in his life and for ripping this way from Steve. God, Steve. How could Bucky ever forgive himself for depriving Steve of the love he so clearly deserved. Deserves.

 Sitting there on the floor, for god knows how long, Bucky came to a startling realization. He may not be able to play back these memories like movies in his head, but he damn well knew that he could trust Steve, that he knew him when everything else was foreign and terrifying. That had to mean something right? His mind and heart hadn’t completely betrayed him if he knew that Steve felt like home, that he smelled familiar, that something within him just knew.

 As Bucky crouched there, lost in thought and emotion, his well-trained instincts didn’t alert him to Steve’s arrival. He missed the loud thud of the car door, the minor tremor of the house when Steve shut the front door, and even the loud shuffling as Steve entered the kitchen.

 “Buck?” Steve called loudly.

 Bucky couldn’t bring himself to answer and he certainly couldn't bring himself to move from his place on the floor. He didn’t even have a moment to panic before Steve came through the door and was suddenly standing across the room, eyes fixed on the photos on the floor. 

 “Shit, Buck,” Steve breathed out. He quickly crossed the room, dropping to his knees next to Bucky.

 “I’m so sorry, Steve,” Bucky sobbed.

 “What? Bucky, no, this isn’t your fault at all. Dammit I-,” Steve took a shuddering breath in, his emotions coming to boil seeing those photos and knowing what Bucky had figured out.

 “These past few years, I didn’t know, Steve.”

 “I know you didn’t, and I never wanted you to find out like this.”

 Bucky was still staring at the photos, unable to look up at the man next to him. He didn’t know what he’d do if he saw that same love in the photos directed at him now.

 “Bucky, please, can we talk about this?”

 “What is there to talk about? I ruined everything for you, I took it all away,” Bucky sobbed.

 “No! God, Buck, please just come here.”

 Bucky looked over to Steve, surprised to see the sheer vulnerability reflected in his grey-blue eyes. There wasn’t a hint of anger or resentment there, but maybe just a touch of fear.

 Without thinking, Bucky scooted over just enough to collapse into Steve’s arms, his entire body breaking down into shuddering sobs.

 “Why can’t I just remember?” he cried, desperate for relief from the constant reminders that his mind wasn’t his own.

 Steve wrapped him up in a tight hug and pulled him closer, rearranging their limbs until they were in a more comfortable position on the floor.

 “Shh, it’s okay Buck, it’s gonna be okay, I promise. That’s why we’re here, right? To do this together,” Steve murmured into his ear.

 Bucky just continued to cry, years (decades) of emotion boiling over at that moment. Steve just held him close and continued whispering in his ear, reassuring him, letting him know it would all be okay.

 “I’m not letting you do this alone, Buck, I promise,” Steve said firmly.

 When Bucky finally felt like he had himself under control, he pulled back from Steve’s grip but didn’t dare move any further away. No matter what had been burned out of his head by HYDRA, his heart needed to be close to Steve. Everything from the last few years started to make more sense when he realized that.

 “Why didn’t you tell me?” Bucky asked quietly.

 “And when exactly was I supposed to do that?” Steve asked with a chuckle.

 “Fair enough,” Bucky sighed.

 “Let’s go into the kitchen. We should eat before we do this.”

 Bucky hesitated but nodded when he felt his stomach knotting in on itself. When Steve stood and reached a hand out for Bucky, he didn’t hesitate to take it. He didn’t think twice when neither of them let go until they were in the kitchen plating up the takeout Steve had brought back.

 They ate their sandwiches and chips in silence, mostly due to how hungry they quickly realized they were. Bucky was grateful that Steve also had the appetite of a super soldier and brought close to a dozen sandwiches back for them. By the time they finished stuffing their faces and Steve had cleared away the scattered wrappers, Bucky knew they were faced with a difficult conversation.

 “Want to get comfy in the living room for this?” Steve asked.

 Bucky nodded, “Sure.”

 Steve let Bucky lead the way to the living room and waited for him to pick a spot first, not wanting to crowd his space too much. Bucky’s face pulled into a confused frown when Steve settled in the chair across from him, rather than on the couch cushion at his side. Bucky glanced at the empty seat next to him and Steve took the hint, quickly moving close enough that their thighs pressed together.

 Steve’s gaze was fixed on the carpet. He could feel Bucky’s eyes boring into the side of his head, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet his gaze. The guilt was already eating away at him, making his lunch sit uneasily in his stomach. After too much silence, he took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation at hand.

 “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Bucky. It was so wrong for me to-”

 “Steve, don’t. This isn’t your fault, there’s no reason for you to apologize,” Bucky interrupted.

 Steve shook his head, still staring down at his feet.

 “But Buck, I-”

 “Dammit Steve, will you look at me please?”

 Steve lifted his head and turned slightly to face Bucky. He was met with open, curious eyes with just a hint of anger.

 “You have every right to be angry,” Steve whispered.

 “Yeah,” Bucky nodded. “But not at you. This isn’t your fault,” he repeated. His face softened a bit, the hard edge disappearing as he watched for Steve’s reaction.

 “I just don’t know what to say.”

 “Let’s start from the beginning. Can I ask a question?”

 “Of course.”

 “How long?” Bucky asked simply.

 “What do you-”

 “How long, Steve?” he repeated.

 Steve sighed, his gaze quickly drifting to the several photos littering the living room walls. “Since I was sixteen, you were seventeen. That’s when things changed.”

 “What do you mean, changed?”

 “That’s when we finally realized that best friends don’t normally cuddle on the couch and sleep in the same bed during sleepovers,” Steve laughed.

 Bucky smiled at the distant, hazy memories of tangled limbs and sleep warm touches. It wasn’t in focus, but the memory was there. Somewhere deep in his heart and mind, he knew what Steve was saying; it almost felt like his own memories.

 “So, all that time? When I left for the war, when you came and found me? All of that?”

 “Yeah, Buck, the whole time.” Steve had a small smile on his face, the happy memories overtaking their current situation for just a split second. “I’m sorry,” Steve continued. “It’s not fair for me to dump this on you and I really didn’t mean for you to find out. At least not like this.”

 “And what do you want?” Bucky questioned.

 “What do you mean?” Steve was surprised by the question, his gaze immediately snapped back to Bucky’s inquisitive face.

 “Exactly what I said, Steve. What do you want to happen now?”

 “I want you to be okay. I was us to be okay,” Steve murmured so quietly, Bucky nearly missed it. “I know I can’t ask you to pretend to remember it all, I know that. But selfishly, god Buck, I would give anything, everything to have it all back.”

 Steve’s eyes were fixed so intently on Bucky’s, he couldn’t tear his gaze away. Hesitantly, Bucky reached for Steve’s thigh and squeezed tightly as he smiled up at him. 

 “You’re right. I can’t pretend to remember everything. But I do know that these distant, fuzzy memories are mine. They all involve you. All of them Steve. I know I loved you. Love you, really. I can feel it. I might not have the same memories and things certainly aren’t normal, but I can feel it Stevie, I really can. I don’t want to lose that again,” Bucky admitted.

 Steve stayed silent, partially to let Bucky continue but mostly in disbelief.

 “Like I said, I can feel it. The pictures, the memories, those times in high school. It’s all still there. If you want to give this a shot, give me a shot, I think that’s really all I want.”

 “If I want- Buck,” Steve trailed off. He carefully placed his hand over Bucky’s on his own thigh, barely squeezing for fear of startling him. He held Bucky’s gaze, unable to look away from those eyes that held so much and yet revealed nothing. When Bucky didn’t interject, Steve continued on.

 “Bucky, not a single day has gone by that I haven’t wanted you. Not once, I swear,” Steve resounded. “If this is what you want, I’m right here.”

 “You’re the only thing that feels familiar, Steve.”

 “I don’t want you to want this just because you think it’s what I want, Buck. I’ll be here no matter what, I promise you that.”

 Bucky shook his head vehemently, immediately cutting Steve off. “No,” Bucky said firmly. “It’s not that and it’s not just because you’re safe. I just- I know we were each other’s everything and we can’t just jump back into that, but I’d really like to take it one day at a time. With you,” Bucky finished softly.

 Steve raised a gentle hand to Bucky’s cheek, unable to keep himself from touching at this point. He couldn’t help the way his chin trembled or the tears that welled up in his eyes as he looked at the man he’d loved and lost so many times. Steve needed the reassurance that Bucky was actually there, that he could reach out and touch him, feel his warmth and security while keeping him safe.

 “You want this?” Steve confirmed.

 “Steve, I swear, if you ask me that one more time, I might change my mind,” Bucky sassed.

 “Alright alright, there you are,” Steve laughed.

 They sat in silence for a moment longer. Bucky’s hand still squeezing Steve’s thigh with Steve’s hand pressed over his own. Steve’s opposite hand held Bucky’s cheek as he let his eyes wander over Bucky’s face. It was the same face that Steve came home to in high school, the same one he found staring up at him in Azanno, and the same one that haunted his dreams for the years after the war. He never imagined he’d see it again; not as the Winter Solider and not as the love of his life.

 Eventually, Steve let go of Bucky and slumped back against the couch, spreading his arms for Bucky to settle into. Bucky quirked an eyebrow for a split-second before folding himself into Steve’s grip, his back pressed to Steve’s front. The strong arms that wrapped around him felt like coming home. Bucky never thought he could feel like that again, he didn’t know he had a home to come back to. But this, this was it.

 “When did you know?” Steve whispered against his neck.

 Bucky paused for a minute, trying to comb through the jagged memories and mismatched pictures in his head. At this point, he had enough of his own mind back that he could see so many of his own experiences but didn’t quite know where they fit into his life. It was hard to differentiate among all the years that swirled in his head.

 “When was the bridge?” Bucky asked.

 “You knew on the bridge?”

 “Yeah. Well, no, not really. But after. I started getting these flashes of what I now realize are memories. The moment I fell was just on replay in my head, I just kept hearing you yell for me.”

 Steve squeezed him tightly and buried his nose in Bucky’s long hair, willing himself to stay strong for Bucky.

 “I told them I knew you, but, you know,” Bucky trailed off.

 “I know, Buck. I’m so sorry.”

 Bucky shifted in Steve’s arms, rolling over to face him. They were nose to nose, their breath immediately mingling between them.

 “Not your fault, Stevie. We’re here now, yeah?”

 “Yeah, we are. But we can always talk about that stuff, whenever you need to. That’s why we’re here, remember?”

 “As long as you’re here with me to figure it all out, Steve. I know I can’t do it without you.”

 As Steve nodded in agreement, his nose bumped against Bucky’s causing them both to gasp at how close they hadn’t realized they were. Steve’s gaze dropped to Bucky’s lips out of habit and Bucky’s tongue swiped over his plump bottom lip on impulse.

 “Buck,” Steve breathed, unable to stop himself.

 Bucky stared back at Steve for what should have been an awkward length of time, but neither man noticed. After a few long breaths, Bucky nodded, signaling for Steve to go ahead. One of Steve’s hands crept up from his waist to cradle his face, his thumb dragging along his cheekbone as Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut.

 Steve barely had to move with how close they already were. He merely angled his face to the right and immediately felt Bucky’s warm breath directly against his lips. Before he could do anything, Bucky closed the final hint of space between them and captured Steve’s lips in a feather-light kiss. Steve couldn’t help the rush of emotion that filled his heart the moment he felt those all-too-familiar lips against his again. 

 He let his lips lead him in rediscovering Bucky, pleased that the same flick of his tongue and caress of his neck brought out the softest whimpers, just like when they were in another life. When he felt tears fall from his eyes, he pulled back ever so slightly. 

 “Wow,” Bucky murmured.

 Steve sniffled quietly but knew he couldn’t hide his emotion from the man in his arms.

 “Yeah, wow is right.”

 “So, we’ll figure this out?”

 “Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Just like we always have, baby.” 

 Bucky couldn’t help the way he burrowed into Steve’s chest, and Steve couldn’t stop the smile on his face as he felt Bucky press a kiss to his chest. 

 “Did you know you always used to do that before you fell asleep?” Steve whispered.

 When he looked down, Bucky’s eyes were closed and his breathing was even, his face squished against Steve’s shirt. Steve shook his head fondly, and pulled Bucky even closer, silently vowing to never let him go again.

[pluto-art]

Syncytium - Chapter 1

Title: Syncytium Words: 3,311 Rating: T Summary: Teacher AU. Takes place in a fictional universe in which Professor Ronald Pinkus and Dr. Brian T. Globetrotter (played by Pinky and Brain, respectively) are college professors at an esteemed school for mice that focuses on science and the arts. Mainly told from Brain's point of view; sometimes from Pinky's. He's too egotistical for his own good. Pinky is too happy-go-lucky for his own good. The two clash. High jinks ensue. Dr. Globetrotter gets more than he bargained for. Way more than he bargained for...

Fan fiction link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13712482/1/Syncytium

This was 100% inspired by the drawings I did of Brain and Pinky as professors. It’s planned to be a multi-chapter story, and I already have the major points of the entire story outlined. Here be chapter one. Enjoy.

Syncytium - n. a single cell or cytoplasmic mass containing several nuclei, formed by fusion of cells or by division of nuclei.

\/\/\/\/\/\/

January 17, 1994 - 4:35 AM

Darkness.

All around them was dark, it's impenetrable cloak cut only by the crimson beat of the emergency lights.

No one could see them. No one could hear them. No one even knew they were there. But if they could see them, by way of those steady emergency flashes, they'd make out an aging mouse struggling to carry his blue-eyed comrade to safety, light reflecting off his broken glasses. And if they could hear them, all they'd pick up, aside from a distant alarm, would be a heavy, breathless panting.

Brian paused in his efforts to set down the taller, much lankier mouse on the concrete below, an arm coming 'round to support his friend's head. Heavy lids threatened to close their curtains on a pair of periwinkle eyes, their owner barely managing to stay awake.

"Pinky... Pinky, wake up!"

Nothing.

"Pinky!"

He tapped his cheek sharply.

Slowly, surely, the other mouse awakened.

"Brain...?"

"Yes, Pinky. I'm here. I'm here."

"Brain...," Pinky whispered, a paw coming up to grasp his arm tightly before his head fell back into Brain's palm.

"It's all right," cooed Brian. "It's all right, Pinky. I've got you. Shhh. Shhh. I've got you. Shhhhhh shhh shhh shhh..."

\/\/\/\/\/\/

September 10th, 1993 - 7:30 AM

Darkness.

"Sh sh sh! Quiet! Everyone calm down! Quiet!"

A pencil sharpened. A ruler placed just so on a dated, mahogany table. Half-moon violet glasses were pushed square up against a pair of pink, deadpan eyes by a delicate, nail-bitten finger.

"Good evening, class," droned Dr. Brian T. Globetrotter. "Today we shall be delving into the fascinating subject of cellular mitosis..."

Sunlight, warm and bright and quite the opposite of the teacher it poured the morning's blessing onto, shone through the dark, wooden blinds of the university classroom, the better to illuminate the scene. Rows and rows of mahogany benches, arranged in a stadium format, and each with a polished table set in front of it, could barely be seen thanks to the sheer number of students adorning every bit of space available. It wasn't cramped, per say, but it was filled. Not a seat was left, and not for reason of enthusiasm. The countenance of those in attendance told all: no one was here because they wanted to be, but because they needed to be. Required classes were always the least interesting, and the occasional passed note or whispered joke barely managed to keep the atmosphere animated, provided one was even able to communicate such messages without getting caught. It was common knowledge that this particular professor had no room for flippancy. Detentions were a standard affair. Not being spoken to or called upon was considered a kindness.

Said teacher continued his sunrise spiel, seemingly oblivious to the complete lack of interest permeating the room as he droned on and on about the fascinating life of the cell.

Fascinating, indeed. If he at all harbored any excitement about the subject his profile certainly failed to project it, his demure expression reflected on the faces of practically every student in the room. Only one outlier remained: a golden-furred girl mouse, glasses a little askew, cheek resting against her paw as she sighed dreamily. An equally amber-tinted mouse beside her rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"The intricacies of such a seemingly primitive topic are much more complex and absorbing than might first be assumed, and although I don't expect any of you to give a Heterocephalus Glaber's crotch about an ounce of it, we are henceforth going to engage in the undoubtedly invaluable study regardless."

Somewhere in the back, a student scribbled "Heterocephalus Glaber's crotch" on a page of his journal labeled "The Globular List of Insults", sniggering to his freckled companion.

"Please turn your attention to page seventy-five of your textbooks. We will begin with the genesis of the process, in which a single cell divides into..."

But whatever that cell was going to divide into had to be put on hold, for at that moment the classroom door flung open to reveal a completely new fascination entirely.

"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Judson!" blurted out the newcomer, one foot in the door and the other still sticking outside the classroom, a loaded box of paraphernalia nestled precariously in his arms. "I'll never forget this! I promise to pay you back with a whoooooole bouquet of flowers! Nya-ha-ha-ha!"

In he tumbled, paraphernalia and all, right onto Brian T. Globetrotter's desk, knocking an ink pen, two calculators, and his name sign off the table in the process.

"Whoops! Eheh. Sorry! I'll get that for you!" offered the mouse, hastening to clean up his mess, albeit rather haphazardly.

"Wha-... What are you doing here?! I am in the middle of a very important session!" growled Globetrotter.

"Oh, yes, and I'm sure it's a very lovely session, too! But... if you don't mind my asking...," and he got right up to the other's ear and whispered: "Isn't this, ummm, my room?"

"Wha-? Puh... It most certainly is not! This is my classroom and you're intruding!" Globetrotter spluttered, poking a finger into the newcomer's chest for greater emphasis.

Three rows up, a student typed furiously on his phone: New teacher about to get ROASTED by Mr. B.

"Well, how do you figure that one?" the other mouse questioned.

"Maybe you should read the fine print?!"

And with the starkest finality he could muster, he picked up his name sign and slammed it down in front of the other mouse, turning it so that the name BRIAN T. GLOBETROTTER on the front flashed out proud as anything. The new teacher didn't seem at all perturbed by such harsh behavior. Indeed, he put his face right up to the sign, tipped down his own pair of half-moon glasses, and carefully read each word, muttering them to himself softly.

"Oh! Well, that's different then, isn't it?" he declared, straightening up to smile brightly at his fellow colleague. "But, umm, you might want to change the name there, don't you think? I mean, it says "globe trotter", but I don't see you trotting around any globes. No. Not at all. More like globe sitter. Ha-ha-ha!"

Globetrotter stared at the newcomer, mouth agape. It was all he could do at the moment, taken aback by the sheer audacity of this... figure and the pure chaos he had caused. Half the room was already in hysterics, for his buck-toothed make and slight slur, coupled with a lightly pronounced Cockney accent, made his proclamation of "sitter" sound like a different word entirely.

Everything about this mouse was... off. Compared to Globetrotter he was exceptionally tall and lanky, all the more exacerbated by the fact that Brian was quite a short mouse to begin with; he had to crane his neck to look up at him. His laugh was prominent, and his eyes were an astonishing robin's egg blue. Never in his lifetime had Globetrotter ever seen a mouse with eyes that color; he hazarded to guess they were contacts. He wore a lab coat, but only out of necessity, it seemed, for it clashed with the rest of his outfit: a pink polo-style shirt with some band's logo slapped on the front, striped corduroy pants that sported every color of the rainbow, and what looked to be black and white bowling shoes. It was as if a Goofy cartoon had vomited all over him. The heavy cardboard box he'd unceremoniously deposited on Globetrotter's table seemed to carry all assortment of bits and bobs - a globe, several petri dishes, a bag of chips, a baseball cap, some notepads and pens, a small keyboard, a roll of Gouda, some tape, a framed photograph, a book on Regis Philbin, two VHS tapes of The Honeymooners, and not one... but three Bunsen Burners, as if he had packed them in a feeble attempt to complete the look of someone who was supposedly intelligent. Every eye in the room had turned towards him as he entered, and every eye had stayed on him since. Golden-haired girl had actually dropped her pencil, grabbed her brother by the shirt sleeve, and clutched at her heart, a light whisper of, "Oh my gosh, he's hot...," fluttering past her lips. Her brother facepalmed. To complete the effect, he carried under his arm a pad hosting a number of rather childish stickers, which Globetrotter grabbed from him.

"Shut up!" he snapped at his students, who were still chuckling. They all quieted down at once. "Dr. Ronald Pinkus, Professor of Trozology," Globetrotter read aloud, disgust painting every syllable. "What in the bloody hell is 'Trozology'?"

"Oh, well, it's very simple, really. It's-," Ronald began, but at that moment, a wee mouse popped in, her eyes nearly covered by a pudgy blue tam o' shanter.

"Excuse me? Mr. Pinkus?" she squeaked, thick Scottish accent nearly muffled by the gray scarf swathed about her.

"Please, call me Pinky!" Ronald squeaked back.

The girl smiled and giggled.

"Pinky. Mrs. Judson told me to tell you that you're actually in two ten, not three nineteen."

"Hm? Ohhhhhh!" the one named Pinky exclaimed, peeking at the front of Globetrotter's classroom door. A giant number '319' was painted on its front. "That does explain things, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Now, would you kindly disencumber my desk and plant your quixotic accoutrements elsewhere?" Globetrotter fronted, already pushing Pinky's possessions towards him, and would have thrust it clear off the desk had it not been for Pinky's quick reflexes. He grabbed his loaded box, that ridiculous grin still plastered on his face.

"Thank you, Mr. Brain! And thank you, Ms... errrr...?"

"Flaversham. Olivia Flaversham," piped the girl, beaming from head to toe.

"Thank you, Olivia!"

And he waved at her, as best he could anyway, nearly losing the box as Olivia waved back and skipped off. Shifting his grip so as to take better hold of his possessions, Pinky turned to Globetrotter, panting a little.

"Oh, I'm so sorry for barging in on your class, Mr. Brain. It won't happen again!"

"It's Brian. And see to it that you don't," retorted Globetrotter, flicking stray dust off his precious desk. "You may leave at your earliest convenience, which I hope will be immediately."

"Right-o, Brain!" Pinky saluted, and with that... he trotted off, slipping a little under the weight of the box, and doing his best to close the door behind him with his long, pink tail.

For five whole seconds Globetrotter stared at the closed door, as if attempting to retrieve what little bearings he had left. Despite the poisonous nature of their teacher, many of the students couldn't help but exchange excited mutters, babbling in haste about what had just transpired. Already, Globetrotter, with his exceptional hearing, could catch such questions as, "Did you see how many burners he had?", "Do you think he's single?", and, worst of all, "Is his class full?".

In a rare move, no one was punished for such comments. If anything, for the rest of the class, Globetrotter aimed to be a bit more... amiable than usual, which only fueled the chatter. The session was a long one - three hours, to be exact - and it was with great relief that the bell rang, for if there was anything more "exciting" than cellular mitosis, it was gossip.

"Homework is due on the twenty-first. I want a count of three-thousand words at least and no exceptions!" Globetrotter rattled as the entire class practically flew out of the room in a flurry.

Many paired up with friends; some hitched up their bags and backpacks, running in haste to their next class. Three of the girls, two mice and a shrew, banded together, all a-flutter.

"Oh. My gosh. Did you see that guy? Ugh. My heart is still beating a mile a minute," one of them crooned. It was the golden-furred gal, whiskers shining as she licked her fingers and smoothed them out one-by-one.

"Gosh, Maisy, you're so superficial. One minute it's Globetrotter. Now it's this Pinky guy," mused a mouse to her left, a pair of goggles resting atop her blonde hair. "You need to pick a side."

"I am! I'm picking the cuter of the two," Maisy stated, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

"He looked like Pee-wee Herman walked into Dexter's Lab or something..."

"Dexter's Lab is more fun," voiced Tillie the shrew, who adjusted the tightness of the little cloth draped over her head. "What did Globetrotter mean by giving us only five pages of homework? Usually it's at least ten..."

"I have a theory for that," said the goggle-adorned mouse, biting her fingernails.

"Would you stop doing that?" Maisy bit, slapping at the other mouse's wrist playfully. "It's so gross."

"What? They get gnarly. You know I don't wear gloves when I work."

"You should."

Goggle-mouse sighed.

"Anyway, you wanna hear my theory?"

"I do," piped the shrew.

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead," droned Maisy, not at all enthused.

"Okay. So... my theory is that he's jealous. He doesn't want this Pinky guy to suddenly snatch up all his students, so he's trying to be extra nice to us to get us to stay."

Maisy snorted at this.

"As if we could leave. It's a required class."

"Yeah, but we could always drop it and take it next semester at a different time with a different teacher."

"But why would anybody go through the trouble of that?" said Tillie. "We'd all rather get it over with sooner than later."

"Exactly," "Goggles" said as they turned a corner, heading for the cafeteria. "Anyway, I'll see you guys later."

"Where are you going?" Maisy asked.

"It's Wednesday. I have Engineering on Wednesdays. Duh. Bye, guys!"

And off she went.

"Bye, Gadget!" Maisy waved, then said, under her breath, "She's so weird."

"Yeah, but we love her," Tillie said.

"Yeah, I know," smiled Maisy, as they walked into the cafeteria together.

Running past them went little tammie-headed girl. She practically flew past the throng of students milling in and trudging down the hallways, deftly weaving in and out of them like a snake in the grass. It was a wonder she didn't bump into anyone even once.

Down the maze of hallways she flew, finally stopping at a dividing lane to peer down a path at a familiar figure.

"Mr. Pinky!" she called out, desperately trying to catch her breath as she sprinted up to him.

Pinky smiled down at her, one paw resting on a handle on a door labeled 'Professor Ronald Pinkus, PhD Trozology, 210", his other arm still balancing the heavy box.

"I forgot to give you this!" Olivia panted, stretching out a sweaty hand to proffer him a little white note.

He took it, not without some difficulty, and tucked it into his box.

"Thank you, Olivia! Here..."

And he extracted from the box the bag of chips and handed it to her. She took it, puzzled.

"Tuppence for your trouble," he said, winking at her.

"Thank you, Sir! Good-bye!" Olivia waved, practically glowing as she ran back down the hallway, ripping open the bag and popping a chip in her mouth in the process.

Grinning sweetly, Dr. Ronald Pinkus opened the door and stepped inside.

It was dark, and it took a moment for him to find the light. When he finally flipped a switch, it revealed to him his new abode. It wasn't the most spacious area. In fact, as compared to Dr. Brain's (or... was it Brian's?) classroom this one was visibly a tad more... cramped. Only twenty seats lay stacked in a corner, their blue paint a little chipped and their legs a mite bent. They looked more like middle-school chairs than the nicer seats found throughout most of the school. The light was dim - perhaps a little too much so. He'd need to fix that. There was a fairly solid-looking desk, at least, as well as a small waste bin, some pencils, a large chalkboard behind the desk, and one of those roll-around televisions in another corner. By all accounts, this room was trash as compared to the rest of the university, but where anyone else would have turned their nose up at it... Pinky beamed.

Setting his box down upon the desk, he hung his lab attire up on a nearby coat hanger and inhaled, breathing in the smell of old glue, old chalk, and a very slight tinge of old bubblegum. The glue smell tickled his nose and he giggled. He rather liked that scent. It reminded him of something. Something sweet...

Quietly, he relieved the poor box of its contents, placing everything in the best places he figured they should go, and set the empty box down in a corner.

"There you go, old box. Sorry for all the trouble!" he apologized. The box said nothing.

He turned back to his desk, smiling at a job well done. The three Bunsen Burners stood proudly on one corner of the desk, looking very professional indeed. The notepads and pens looked quite nice on the desk, along with the roll of tape, and there was even a little shelf under the roll-away tv that he was able to put his Honeymooners tapes on! It was perfect. Well, almost.

From his lab coat, he pulled out a handkerchief, which he carried with him to an empty bathroom across the hall. Wetting it and wringing it out, he stepped back into his classroom, shut the door behind him, and carefully, gently, wiped down the picture frame, a smile kissing his lips as he did so. Four little figures beamed up at him: two older mice, himself as a child, and, curiously, a spool of thread, which he was hugging in the photo. Having cleaned the little glass and frame, Pinky brought it up to his face... and kissed it... before setting it back down on his desk, right there in front, where he could always look at it.

There was only one thing left to attend to: the note that Olivia had given him. He picked it up from the desk, unfolded it, and read:

Mr. Pinky,

My sincere apologies for directing you to the wrong classroom. I hope that old bat didn't give you too much trouble. Please, alert me if you need anything.

- Mrs. Judson

Pinky grinned, chuckling a little as he set the note back down on the table and stepped out from behind the desk.

He sighed happily and looked around the room, gaze glistening.

"I made it, Mum. I made it."