#scurries back under a rock and hides there forever

[nbmudkip]

living for Its entertainment, but was It ever really watching?

[click for quality]

[awritesthings1]

The Midas Effect (Part 1)

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Royal Reader

Summary: After the King dies, the Dark Ones invade the Capital and burn your palace to the ground. You plan an escape, which ultimately fails and seemingly crash lands you back in time. Will the help of a familiar Jedi be able to save you from your fate?

Word Count: 2.5k+

Note: This is a oneshot, but consists of 2 parts.

AO3 link

Next part

-

When the sun begins to ache, and the birds catch the last worm, darkness floods the land. Vermin scurry through sodden trenches, squealing in delight at a moldy pastry found next to an unearthed tree. They come in the night, like shadows chasing you down the hallway. Your father called them the Dark Ones; vicious spirits starved of the violence they craved.

You never imagined they would come like this. As a child, your father reassured you they were nothing more than monsters that lived under your bed. Of course, he wrapped an arm around your trembling shoulders while tears rushed down both cheeks. He laughed a moment later when you told him you had seen a shadow under your bed the other night. You were too small to understand.

Growing up with the epitome of luxury, monsters living under your bed was your biggest worry. With a palace cherished by those before you, and love built into the walls, it was easy to forget how lucky you were. Your father was never King to you like he was to everyone else. He was the man who checked under your bed for monsters, and said yes when your mother said no.

Now, your old life is ashes in a pile of rubble.

Because the monsters didn’t live under your bed, they lived in Imperial bases.

“Would you like something to drink, my Lady?”

A gentle hand rests on your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts.

“No thank you.” Your nose scrunches at the noise of the bubbling pot. It was too loud. What if the Dark Ones heard and were making their way up the mountain at this moment?

Vee, your maiden, knew you like the back of her hand. When you were born, she tied herself to your wrist for better or for worst. In her own right, she became your mum while your parents were busy doing whatever ruling a country meant. But with that came the inability to lie or hide things. “They won’t find us up here, now come have some tea.”

You pick at the dirt under your nails, considering her words before reluctantly grabbing the ceramic mug being shoved into your hand. The older woman sits next to you by the fireplace. Silence thins over the cackling flame, fanning away the curious insects.

You watch a spider spin a web in the corner of the miniature brick house. Luckily, a rural traditionalist farmer had found you and Vee picking at his crops and offered you some shelter for the next few days. You doubt he would have offered otherwise if you weren’t the next heir to the crown. Most traditionalists preferred to stick to themselves, living off the land the same way ancient civilizations would have.

A thunderous attack on the western front claps across the mountainside, rocking the earth beneath your feet. You are careful to clutch at the stone tiles as your drink spills into the cracks. Dirt gathers in your hair, no doubt sprinkling into the tea boiling over the fire.

That was how most of your nights started now.  

From the corner of your eye, Vee speaks up. “We can’t stay here forever. The war is getting closer.” 

You stiffen at her words, tucking your knees into your chest. “No, I cannot leave my people to fend for themselves… This is their home.” The last word bites into your flesh. You shift away from her embrace, feeling the heat of the fire burn closer to your skin. You accidentally inhale a deep breath of smoke, bursting out into a coughing fit.   

“I know, this was my home too,” Vee begins, soothing her hand down your back. “But I want to leave. My husband is waiting for me on Alderaan, and you are the only person keeping me from him.” When your coughing settles, you look to her and see tears brimming her eyes. She reaches for your hand. “Please, don’t make me stay.” 

The thorns in the palace gardens never stung as much as this. You wish you could wrap a bandage around this just as easily. But this was bigger than you, and who were you to subject her to this when she only stayed out of loyalty to your parents. 

“One more night,” you promise.

Her braid swings from her shoulder as she reaches to wrap a ratty blanket across your lap while simultaneously pulling you into a tight hug. “One more night,” she agrees, “but we leave Caridaan this time.” 

Despite not wanting to admit it, she was right. After spending months living back-to-back in freezing mountainous terrain, biding time was fruitless. Sitting around had only made you pity yourself.  

You nod your head. “First thing tomorrow,” you agree, “arrange a ship to Alderaan.” 

The woman squeals in your ear, embracing you in a tight hug. The rags drag against your skin at the contact, briefly making you flinch. You certainly won’t miss wearing whatever Vee hastily stitched together once your old clothes became unmendable. A warm dip in the refresher wouldn’t hurt either.  

As the woman settles by the fire and huddles her body from the elements, you wait until her chest lulls into the familiar rhythm of sleep. Rising from your spot, you drape the blanket over her shoulders, pulling it to cover the rest of her body. Quietly, you step outside. 

The horizon is buried under countless layers of clouds and midnight shadows. But on the cliffside, a chill of frigid air ghosts past your neck, triggering a flare of goosebumps down your arms. Golden streaks light up the night sky, but it’s not beautiful or mesmerizing. It’s disgusting and twists your stomach in a way worse than hunger. Because each light is a life being snuffed out. Fires, bombs, and weapons lay siege to little villages and peaceful communities, all in efforts to take the Capital. 

To take your throne. 

And while you may not live up to the name of your father, or be anywhere near powerful enough to stop the attack on your planet, you just may know one person who might.

-

Outside your window, a ghastly storm howled across Caridaan. Not that you had noticed, of course, because you were too occupied preparing your hair for bed. Dressed in your silk nightgown, you pinned it back carefully until the movement of your door drew you away.

The gentle steps of your mother rounds the corner. Your shoulders drop at the sight of her. Vee is by her side, nervously picking at her nails.

“Your father couldn’t come to wish you a good night, so I am here.”

You recognise the wavering tone in your mother’s voice when she speaks. Her eyes linger on the floor as she purses her lips, swallowing a shaky breath. The hairs on your arm raise.

Your mother was never an emotional person.  

“What happened?” You question, peaking a glance at Vee who looks equally as disturbed as your mother.

“Nothing, my dear.” Her voice cuts off, supressing a sob.

The tension in the room pulls taut.

Your mother attempts to blink away tears before reaching for a tissue on your vanity. “…It’s just that…” She doesn’t finish her sentence, scrunching the tissue into her palm and bursting into tears. You rush over to hug her without question. She trembles into your arms, gripping the back of your nightgown like a vice. “It’s your father.”

You suck in a breath at her words, the scent of a distinguished candle lingers.  

“He’s dead.”

-

A sudden jerk of the ship throws you headfirst into the wall.

“Maker! Are you hurt?” Vee cries out from her seat in the cockpit while squeezing the armrests to death.

Her voice is lost to a flood of alarms and a grunting engine. You crumble to the ground, clutching your throbbing head with a groan.

“Hold on! We’ve been hit!” Cries the Alderaan pilot, dipping the ship into a nose dive.

Your soul leaves your body as you are flung into the ceiling of the ship faster than you can blink.

“They’ve circled us!”

“Well? Do something!”

Desperately, you clutch at anything to ease your descent when the ship levels out. Fighting through the splitting pain in your head, you cling to a pipe heaving frantically for a break. When the ship levels, you drop down only to spit out the mouthful of blood and hair in your mouth. Without wasting a moment, you scramble to lock yourself into the closest seat.

Explosions continue to shake the ship, spinning your thoughts around.

“M’good” you mumble incoherently to no one in particular.

A series of coughs explode out your lungs, when a gush of freezing air pricks at your skin.

“Emergency hatch is open!” The pilot yells while flipping a few switches and pressing a big red angry button.

Vee’s hand reaches over her armrest to squeeze your hand. Tears are pooling down her cheeks.

Was this how you die?

The moon glares from behind Vee’s head, blinding you momentarily before a dark figure crosses your vision. Biting back the pain, you glare at the silhouette, desperately trying to work out if you were seeing things.

The Alderaan pilot struggles for what only could be seconds before a bright red light slashes at something before disappearing into the dark. You hear the pilot plead before they are carelessly shoved away from the console. You turn to Vee to gauge if you were imagining things, but she appears to be transfixed at the same sight.

“Hold on!” The dark figure commands.

You don’t think to question it as both you and Vee let go of each other’s hands to clutch the armrests.

Within a matter of moments, you feel the ship pull towards the ground. Your heart is thumping loud enough for the cockpit to hear. Fire catches at the descent of the ship, illuminating the cockpit with flaming gold light. Blood rushes to your head, consuming your vision in vivid white. Despite your grip, you begin losing sensation in your fingers. Fighting to stay conscious, a fierce scream rips from your lungs before the weight of your body disappears.

This is death. This has to be death. Your head was no longer in pain, and the feeling in your fingers had returned. You feel cold drops pelt your back as you hunch over on something sodden and gasp for air. You violently cough up your lungs, as your eyes adjust to your surroundings.

A rush of adrenaline laces through your veins.

Pulled straight from the pages of a horror story, the palace you once called home sits quietly up the hill.

Shivers wrack your body. You were dreaming, you had to be. But the violent pelting of rain soaking the ground beneath your knees says otherwise. You unwind your fists from the sodden grass, clutching your muddy clothes in disbelief. Upon closer inspection, you recognise it to be the slip you use to wear to bed. You pull at them, expecting your fingers to slip through the fabric like they would in a dream but the silk brushes against your skin the same way it always did.

Your blood runs cold. This was impossible. The palace burned down in the invasion.

“You know you shouldn’t be out here this late.”

You jolt, twisting around to see the Jedi Knight that guarded you in the months following your father’s death. Rushing to stand, your back is as stiff as a board while you watch him incredulously. Mud squelches under his boots when he moves to wrap his robe around your shoulders. He appears to be unbothered by the rain, instead squeezing your shoulders to give you a gentle nudge towards the palace. Your feet refuse to move.

“Anakin?” The disbelief in your voice is evident. “What’s happening?”

Anakin’s curls are plastered to his face as he squints through the rain to meet your eyes. His mouth hangs slightly agape, blinking at you sceptically for a moment before exhaling with an amused smirk. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t think you would pull something like this just to get my attention, princess, but I’m flattered,” Anakin remarks, stepping over you to sling his Jedi robe across your quivering shoulders.

Your nose fills as tears build in your eyes. Frustration, anger, fear and relief battle for your next words. “I’m scared,” you decide without much thought. The tears and exhaustion slip into your voice as you snuggle into the warmth of his robe.

The smile on the Jedi’s face falls, immediately gathering you up into his arms. Your nose presses into the nape of his already soaked neck, gasping for air between each sob. Anakin doesn’t mind though, letting you shift your weight into his body. The rain continues to pour down, plastering your now translucent nightgown to your skin. Ever the gentleman, his gaze shifts to the sky, blinking away the rain drops falling into his eyes. Your cries sink his heart but he knows that if you two were to stay out here any longer, you would surely catch a cold. Carefully, he maneuvers your arms around his waist then bends to cradle the back of your thighs and carry you through the mud to the palace.

You are too immersed in gripping the back of his shirt and crying into his shoulder to care. Maybe you were dead and this was the afterlife. But what about Vee? And your people? Had you left them all to die?

Your wet feet slap onto the stone tile as Anakin sets you down. “Am I dead?” You hiccup.

Anakin’s head shakes. “No, but I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

You sniff, nodding gently while you take in the appearance of the room connected to the back entrance. It looked the same way you had left it before the fire. The candles were all snuffed out except for the one Anakin had lit and held to see your face through the dark. Even the boots of the servants looked hastily tucked beneath the table.

“Go change into something warm,” Anakin’s spare hand cups your cheek to draw your attention back to him, “I’ll have some hot tea ready.” His thumb wipes away the remaining drops of rain on your skin. You forget to breathe at the touch of his real hand. It’s short-lived though as he retreats through a door into the servants kitchen.

You are left in the dark, partly expecting to wake up any second. For a moment, you think you might be slipping away then realise it is only a draft from a window a servant must have forgotten to close. Reluctantly, you step closer, shutting the window quietly. You consider going to your room to change, but you know you can’t face crossing the threshold and reliving all those memories. So, you settle for one of the spare servant attire draped over a hook before meeting Anakin in the kitchen.

[sarking]

for the fic ask meme: 5 & 9!! ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎♡

Thanks for asking! Questions from I’m Bored and Anxious So I Slapped Together a List of Fan Fic Writer Asks

5. What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write?

[every idea I've ever had scurries away to hide under a rock]

Elliot's big bisexual awakening following Tag: GEN! This is cheating a little because I did write some words for it, but there's never going to be a finished product, so close enough.

There's not really much to it. Just Elliot keeping the app and trying to figure out if he's actually into the daddy thing (turns out no) and then eventually finding a guy around his own age. They probably run into Olivia while they're on a date, and Olivia's not really going to let it go because, yeah, it hurts to see Elliot with someone else, but he's also her partner, so she has to like support him on this journey or whatever, right?

"No plot, just vibes" issues aside, I'd have to make OCs, and I simply do not want to. At all. Nothing I hate more! Did you know original characters need names? That alone is enough to keep me away from them forever.

9. Do you write every day? If you wrote today, share a sentence of what you’ve written!

lol. ha. sob.

Five or so years ago, I was writing every day before I went to sleep, even if it was just a sentence. It was great. I'd look forward to spending that time with my fic at the end of every day! It even got me into bed earlier. I got my WIP to 19k doing that.

I've made a couple of attempts at getting back into the habit, but I can't seem to keep it up for more than a few days. I hit the bed exhausted and can't summon the physical energy to type or write, which probably has at least a little to do with the fact I have more tasks I need to do before bed than I did five years ago.

Anyway, a look through Google Docs tells me the last time I added a sentence to anything, as opposed to just opening it or just changing a word, was May 19. 😩

[chockfullofsecrets]

Critical Role: The Opposite of Cuddling

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: And maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, but - “That’s not gonna work,” he says, feeling a little bad as her face falls. “I’m way too ticklish for that.”

Jester’s expression rebounds at lightning speed. “Caduceus! You’re ticklish?”

“Oh. Yeah,” he grins.

Dome cuddles don't quite work out, but the Mighty Nein make do.

Wordcount: 1.8k (it would be short if it wasn’t supposed to be a snippet fic aaa)

A/N: maybe i am just in the mood for cuddly gang tickles. maybe so. 

---

“So,” Jester is proselytizing, brandishing a diagram from her sketchbook into dubious faces, “if we cuddle up around Caduceus just like this it’s going to be super soft and comfy and warm until we get out of this stupid weather! Any questions?”

Caduceus puts his teacup aside and leans down to peer at the sketch. It’s really good, especially the faces. She must have drawn it while watching them sleep last night.

And maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, but - “That’s not gonna work,” he says, feeling a little bad as her face falls. “I’m way too ticklish for that.”

Jester’s expression rebounds at lightning speed. “Caduceus! You’re ticklish?”

“Oh. Yeah,” he grins. It feels good to see her happy, tail flicking as she clutches her sketchbook in clear delight - after two days of nonstop freezing rain, even her forceful cheer has been wavering. “It’s nice, sometimes, but not when we’re, you know. Sleeping.”

“So I could tickle you right now and you wouldn’t be, like, really mad at me?” Jester presses. She’s scooting towards him as she asks, practically trembling with excitement. It’s awfully cute.

Well, it’s been a while, but he can’t say he’s not a little eager for the contact. He ignores the looks from the rest of their group and flops back onto his bedroll, wriggling a little to get comfortable. “Yeah, that’d be good.”

“Um,” Beau says from somewhere behind him, a little strangled. Oh, right.

“We’re not keeping people awake, are we?” he asks, craning his neck to the various edges of the dome people have settled in. “Anyone set on sleeping right now?”

Beau makes a face. "That's not the weird part, Duceus."

“They can help!” Jester chirps, and then she’s cuddled into his side and wiggling tiny tiefling claws above his belly. “Oh, Ca-du-ceus!”

She’s pitching her voice as deep and scary as it can go. It’s not very far. “Yeah?”

“Where’s your very worst tickle spot?”

He laughs. “Telling you that feels like a bad idea.”

“Then I’ll just have to fi-ind it!” She tugs his shirt up with one quick move, and he barely has time to feel the cold before she’s latching onto his sides and burying her entire face into the downy fur on his belly. “Ooh, you’re so soft and warm! I want to cuddle you forever, Caduceus.”

It tickles, but just a little - honestly, he’s more amused by her. “Can’t say I’ve heard that before,” he chuckles, reaching out to poke gently at her side. “You’re not bad yourself.”

She squeaks, pulling her head up just enough to gasp at him. “Oh my gosh, Caduceus, did you just tickle me back? Guys, you have to come help me!”

“Nah, I’m good,” Beau snorts.

Jester lets out a massive sigh and flops back down onto him, and for a pleasant minute or two it’s just her nuzzling into him as he watches raindrops pelt off the amber dome overhead.

Then there’s a rustle, and some clinking, and before he can do anything more than lazily twitch one of his ears in the direction of the sound Yasha’s upside-down face pushes into his field of view.

“Do you mind if I join?” she asks in her quiet way. “I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

Jester springs upright, grabbing happily for her hands. “Yes! Join us!”

Caduceus echoes her, snorting out a quiet laugh as Jester regains some of her energy and starts to scribble her way up his sides. He doesn't have any quiet siblings - Yasha reminds him a little more of the mourners, so it’s always nice to see her reach out. He's good at appreciating that sort of thing.

Yasha smiles shyly down at the both of them as she pulls his head into her lap and starts to play with his ears. “These are so soft,” she marvels. “Are you ticklish here?”

His ears have always been one of his siblings’ favorite spots to tease him with, and apparently they haven’t gotten any less sensitive in the last ten years. “Yeah,” he gasps. “Heh - just - hehe - a little bit.”

There's a frustrated groan off to his right. “Okay, I’ll bite.” Footsteps track around to his side, fleet and quiet, and he waits patiently for a flash of blue cloth to cross his gaze. “But only ‘cause ears are a fucking weird spot and I want to see if this works on you.”

Beau crouches by his side and curls her fingers loosely. “I’m gonna punch you,” she warns. “Probably not that hard, but don’t tense up.”

He nods as best as he can while tilting his head to better let Yasha worry her fingernails at the backs of his ears - he’s not sure if he could feel more boneless if he tried, right now.

The heel of her fist strikes him right in the middle of his chest, fingers clutching around something intangible - that something scurries its way down every nerve he has, and he coughs out a startled laugh before he can help himself. “What was that?”

“Payback for growing lichen on me back at your house,” she quips, but her eyes are narrowed in clear concentration. “Okay, ears, ears… wrists? And knees? And - fuck, man, your entire back? Really? Jes, let’s flip him over, this is going to be good.”

Well, that’s unexpected.

“Wait - ha!” Caduceus yelps, squirming as fingers start to pry their way underneath him. “Hold on now-”

He’s bigger than both of them by far, but they’re strong and not above tickling the backs of his ribs until he starts to squeal. "You're so thin, Caduceus!" Jester exclaims, hooking a finger into the tender gap between two bones and wriggling it mercilessly - his back arches entirely without his permission, letting Beau pry him another inch off the ground, and he whines defensively. "We have to feed you more!"

They get as far as rolling him onto his side before Beau loses patience and starts prodding smugly at his spine. “Your ki is pretty shivery around here, Duceus,” she teases. “Trying to hide your worst spots, huh? Bet you thought we weren’t gonna take this seriously.”

Caduceus is too busy laughing to deal with - any of that, really, especially when Jester slings herself over him so she can reach his back too. “I’m - ahaha! aaa! - oh, that tickles!”

As if in direct response to his babbling, a small weight bundles into the back of his knees. He curls up reflexively with a strangled shout - it’s Nott, cuddling up to him with a shivery sigh as an invisible hand starts to pinch at his kneecaps. “You’re right,” she crows to Jester. “He is soft.”

It does feel nice, being buried under this many people and tickled till the marrow of every bone in his body shivers, happy and helpless, and when Fjord finally sits in front of him and presses a questioning hand to his shoulder Caduceus doesn’t resist the impulse to clutch his hands and pull him in closer.

Fjord comes easily, huffing in quiet amusement as Caduceus buries his face in him and Yasha and wriggles like a freshly surfaced earthworm. “You alright there?” he drawls. “You sound like they’re trying to kill you.”

Nott snorts from somewhere near his belly. “We should stop, then, we’ve only got the one cleric.”

“Hey!”

Everything abruptly derails as Jester launches herself towards Nott and, from the sound of it, kicks Beau right in the face - there’s wheezing, and then shouting, and then the telltale sugar-sweet scent of Jester’s healing magic.

Caduceus holds very still. "Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah," Beau confirms, mangled. He can practically picture Jester frantically squishing her cheeks around as she checks for damage.

A typical tickle fight, as far as the Clays are concerned, just with a different smell - the Wildmother's healing tends more earthy. Even though they’ve stopped tickling, Caduceus can’t help but laugh.

He’s not sure if he imagines Fjord fluttering light fingers along the insides of his wrists as he catches his breath, but by the time he wheezes out one last fit of giggles and rolls himself back over everyone seems to be keeping a respectful distance, if a good deal closer together than they were at the beginning of the evening. “I think that went pretty well,” he says, pleased.

“...so you’re stupid ticklish,” Beau says dryly, scrubbing a bit of dried blood from her lip. “No cuddling Duceus while he’s trying to be unconscious, message received.”

There’s a chorus of agreement from all but one - Caduceus looks around and spots their final member for the first time since they sat down for dinner, nose buried in a book and ears suspiciously red.

He hasn’t moved an inch all night, even to escape the noise, which leaves him only a few feet away from the rest of them. Caduceus gets the feeling he’s about to regret that. “Oh, I’m sure there are those that have it worse,” he grins. “Right, Mr. Caleb?”

Caleb’s gaze snaps up over the edge of his book. “Ja,” he rushes out, strangled. “I mean - nein - of course I am not - I am just trying to read here-”

Jester doesn’t wait for him to dig his grave any deeper. “Oh my gosh, Cay-leb, are you super ticklish too?”

Caleb stuffs his book back into its holster and holds a hand out preventatively, reaching with panicked precision for a strip of leather tied just above his knee with the other. “No, I am not-”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Fjord rocks backward and reaches out with one broad hand, latching onto Caleb's wrist, and Caleb promptly abandons all spellcasting to kick at him like a startled rabbit.

Despite that, he reels Caleb in gently, scooping him into a neat little ball before he heaves him into the middle of their little circle and squarely on top of Caduceus. “I think we owe you a nice, long thank you for this lovely dome, don’t we?”

There’s a moment of silence as Caleb presumably thinks about how easy it would be to kill them all in this enclosed space. “This,” he says, as severely as he can with his feet in the air and hair in his eyes, “is the opposite of cuddling, and if you do not leave me alone then tomorrow night I am going to make all of you sleep in the rain.”

Even the seasoned homebody in Caduceus knows that’s the exact wrong thing to say to a group of damp and grumpy adventurers - if the mood in the dome was mischievous before, it takes a steep dive into outright evil.

Beau cracks her knuckles. “Yeah? Let’s see what you have to say when we tickle you again tomorrow.”

And if Caduceus laughs as Caleb gives one startled owlish blink and then scrambles to hide as much of himself behind Caduceus as possible - well, that’s not from the tickling at all.

[all-might-can-smash-me]

Masquerade

Hawks/Keigo Takami x Reader

Summary: you run into a man who helps you take a short break from the life of a party that could bore anyone to death, he says he has his own agency and struggles with people recognizing him, but that doesn’t ring a bell for you.

Masterlist

The sound of laughter, shuffling expensive fabric, obnoxiously loud conversations, and the smell of expensive beverages wasn’t quite your scene as you stood amongst a circle of people. You stood and listened to them boast and brag behind their little shades or masks that were there in hopes of masking their identities along with their hero names that may or may not have been flattering or embarrassing. Those awful conversations filled with champagne did not mix with the classical music that played from the live, mini sized orchestra either and it could almost make a cringe burden your face behind the simple masquerade mask you wore, but you always caught your emotions from glinting across your face, it was a skill that you needed to learn and master from a young age. That is what came from being conditioned by the commission itself you guessed from early on in your life. Guess you could chalk it up to being old habits that would forever stick to you. 

“And you! You were elected as the commission’s designer right? So you get to play around with costumes for heroes all day? Play dress up?” Questioned one of the heroes in the little circle. It perturbed you a bit, you expected to go all night without anyone asking you questions and seemingly being passive aggressive with it. Or that person be slightly intoxicated as well since you could hear the slur in their words and sway in their step. So what do you do?

“Of course, what else would I be doing?” You replied back with a charming smile, flute of champagne soon brought up to your lips as you took a small sip, everyone’s attention now back to their bragging and constant and silent battle on who was the best among them. None of them however were in the top 100, that's for sure. 

Your eyes now quickly darted around the room. You wanted an escape, but then what? Find yourself in another circle of heroes who tried to compensate for their lack of popularity? Or have someone else belittle your place in the world? Sitting by yourself didn’t seem at all bad, but what goof will that do? Sitting by yourself in a room filled with people obligated to do good? They would probably approach you and offer to sit with you like the nice popular girl does to the weirdo at school before homecoming queen is voted for. Oh well, you guessed, might as well do as you go. You slowly backed away from the circle, the others preoccupied with themselves. 

“Oh no, I’m not interested..” A man spoke out, a woman seeming to follow with every step he took away. He let out a small exclamation as he felt something solid run into his side. You gave a sigh, mouth about to open to scold the person who had bumped into your side, though soon you felt your body be turned, the person who had almost made you soil the front of your dress with your champagne now had their arm around you. “You see, my wife here wouldn’t appreciate me gallivanting around with strange women, isn’t that right dear?”

You were confused and maybe even slightly dazed as you heard the man say that, You were even more in a daze as you looked up to the masked figure and to the red wings that were almost sprawls magnificently out from behind him, glinting under the many lights upon the chandelier above. A little clear from his throat made you come back to your sense as you brought that charming smile you were told to do over and over again, giving a soft nod of your head as you looked to the defeated woman before you. 

“You are correct about that dear, I wouldn’t appreciate you going out with mysterious women that aren’t me!” You said with a laugh, flute placed upon a tray of a passing waiter, hand now placed upon the man’s chest, the woman profusely apologizing before scurrying away to hide her embarrassed self amongst the many crowds and to possibly avoid the man’s face along with your own. 

“Lets go honey” He spoke, you giving a vigorous nod of your had as took his arm, following after his casual steps and past the many groups of people and passed the open curtains that covered the tall entrances to the many platforms that lined the ballroom. This particular one clichély led to the gardens of the venue. You didn’t care how cliché it was though, you were glad to now catch a break from the annoyances that walked and spat all over those polished ballroom floors. “Man, that was close, thanks for playing along” He said as he let a sigh of relief. 

“I should be thanking you, I don’t know how long I could take all those ridiculous conversations anymore” You said as you let go of his arm, taking the liberty to step ahead and down the marble steps the lead to the grass that almost seemed to be fake by how perfect it seemed to be. “Mind entertaining me for a bit? Before we either have to join the party or leave?” You asked with a small smirk to which he only returned as he followed in your shadow, hand soon lifting the small train of your gown. “Lets sit for a bit” you suggested as you sat down upon a small stone bench that was sat off to the side along the cement path that led through the garden or various bushes of flowers and fruit. The masked man sat beside you, the train of fabric he once held now piled onto his lap.

“I would have thought this mask would have hidden my identity, too bad my wings are a dead giveaway” He mumbled, though you only raised an eyebrow at him before looking off onto the garden. “What?” he asked, you only shrugging your shoulders.

“Just that I find you conceited. I don’t know who you are” you pointedly out with a matter of fact tone as you folded your hands on your lap, the other, who you guessed was a hero, looked at you in bewilderment.

“You live under a rock or something lady?” He asked as he ruffled his feathers a bit, face scrunched up with his confusion as you looked back to him accusingly, hands snatching the trail of your dress from his lap, tossing it to the ground as you got up. 

“For your information I am a costume and weapon concept designer for the comission...so its pretty much my job to do business with who they tell me about and keep to myself about anyone else.....and gossip magazines and drama news channels isn’t really my thing if you are only known for being controversial.” With that you were marching down the path towards the garden, the man now scrambling up and easily catching up with you.

“Whoa there, I’m sorry, I’m just not use to people who really don’t know who I’m and when I say that I really am not trying to sound so....”

“Douchey?”

“Yeah....douchey” he confirmed with a small laugh as he looked over his shoulder and to the classy party that was still carrying on within the fancy walls of the ballroom. “Look...I’m Hawks” He finally said, reaching out a hand, which you only gave a small glance before you sighed, your hand soon giving his a firm shake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise” you spoke out, though you only stiffly and sassily turned away to continue your walk along the crackless cement path, Hawks now falling in step beside you. You were glad, just by a tiny bit, that's all you would admit to yourself as you looked over to him. “So, you area hero I’m guessing? Judging by your name?” You asked as you clasped your hands behind your back, Hawks shoving his hands into the stiff pockets of his trousers. 

“Yeah, I am. I have my own agency in Fukuoka city. I have plenty of sidekicks registered with me, but really they end up being my cleanup crew. I’m a little to fast to keep up with” with a sheepish smile he looked down to you who only nodded your head with a hum before looking back ahead. “I can control my feathers from my wings, helps fulfill my need of being a constant mutli tasker” he joked a bit, which you gave a small laugh as you looked to his wings he now stretched out behind him fully. They only seemed to put you in awe as you raised a hand questioningly, only letting your hand softly brush against the red feathers once he gave a nod of permission.

“You seem pretty young, that is a lot you’ve got accomplished” You complimented, your steps now coming to halt as the two of you now made eye contact. Though he looked away to now look up to the starry night.

“I could say the same for you, you are the same age or yet probably a year or two younger” he pointed out before he looked down to you, waiting expectantly for an answer. you gave a nod of your head.

“What can I say? The commission liked what I could do and plucked me right up after my graduation” you said with a small roll of your eyes and a sarcastic chuckle. “Can’t complain, I wouldn’t be standing here with all these opportunities handed to me.” a sigh was soon pushed out into the cool spring air, Hawks giving a soft nod before looking back down to you.

“Yeah, I’m all too familiar with that...” you were just about to open your mouth to ask him a question before you cellphone had began to blare out it’s annoying ringtone, causing your to scramble for it within your bag to finally answer it, walking a bit ahead to hush words into the device before hurrying back. 

“I’m sorry, but I have to leave!” you shouted as you were already running off as fast as your heeled feet could take you, Hawks trying his best catch up, but once you had begun to weave through the groups, he lost you. With a curse he got swept away in a group, now to only be left to wish to see you again. 

“Good morning!” Called the secretary as you sipped tiredly from your coffee and was now skillfully opening your office door despite the binders and folders that were balanced on your arm. “You had a delivery this morning, so i placed it on your desk” called the secretary as you entered your room, eyes landing upon the flowers that rested in their vase on your desk. 

“What in the world....” you muttered out as you settled the things down on the work table nearby, now stepping up to the vase that held the arrangement to pluck off the note that sat in it’s little plastic holder. 

‘I didn’t even get the chance to ask for a number let alone an email address or something...so here is mine -Hawks’ and there was the number and there was the stupid grin that managed to crawl on your face as you sat down at your desk now admiring the flowers.

“Goodness..” you mumbled out as you grabbed the remote for the tv that was mounted onto the wall, turning on the channel, listening to the voices as you prepped your desk for the work you were about to begin. 

“Number two hero Hawks made an appearance at the ball for Hero and all Hero support personnel and sidekicks hosted by the commission to raise donations for the damage caused by....” Though the rest of the words now drowned out from your ears as your mouth was now agape, you now sitting up straight within your chair as you stared down to the name ‘Hawks’ scribbled on the small piece of cardstock. 

“What?!” You exclaimed. Wow...you really escaped that ball with the nation’s number two hero and didn’t even know. 

How embarrassing...

[cherienymphe]

Saving Grace (Alpha!Thor x Omega!Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, Alpha!Thor 

summary: when an Avenger literally falls out of the sky and into your life, you take it upon yourself to nurse him back to health. It is easier said than done when you must hide your true nature from the blond god

~

It was a quiet night. Most nights were, but sometimes you could hear the faint howling of wolves or the scurrying of some smaller animal outside the cottage. The kettle on the stove was starting to let out a soft whistle, and you knew that it would be ready soon. You could hear a faint rumble from outside, but you paid the thunder no mind.

Your garden could use some rain. You started to undress, staring at the clawfoot tub in the corner with longing. You could practically feel the heated water warming your skin as you watched the steam rise from it while nearing it. You sank into it with a soft sigh, closing your eyes and leaning your head back as you relaxed.

You’d spent most of the day outside, planting some more fruits and vegetables that you’d bought from town. You didn’t get done until late, but that was your fault for waking up much later than you had expected. You were still getting used to the time change and lack of technology, despite how long it’d been since you’d moved here.

You swallowed as you thought of your family and friends and the life you’d left behind. The loneliness of your solitude made your heart clench, but you told yourself that it was for the better. It was safer than the alternative, safer than becoming nothing more than a warm body to some chauvinistic alpha who didn’t value you beyond what was in between your legs.

Both of your parents had been betas. They had often told you they’d thought you’d be no different, but they were wrong. You all were. As soon as you had turned 18, you had experienced the worst pain imaginable that came with your first heat. Your parents had been horrified, distraught even. You had always been their little girl, and the thought of you eventually submitting yourself to an alpha was too much for them.

You had been taken out of school halfway through your senior year, homeschooled through the rest. You hadn’t gone to a campus, instead taking your college courses online. You had never left the house. Instead, you had stayed locked away for years per your parents’ orders…and you didn’t mind.

Growing up, not only had you heard the stories of horrid alphas from your parents, but you’d seen some of the behaviors yourself. You saw how they acted, especially around omegas, how they carried themselves, how they took pride in the emotions they evoked from unmated omegas. You would never forget when a girl in your class had presented during junior year at 16 years old, how the few alpha boys who’d presented early had reacted. How one of the teachers had even reacted…

A shiver ran over you as you recalled that day…how scared that girl had been…how completely unrestrained those alphas had acted… It was a miracle that some other teachers and the school nurse had gotten her off the school grounds unscathed. You knew they weren’t all like that. Even if you’d like to believe so, statistically speaking, they couldn’t all be like that. But enough of them were to scare you.

So when your parents had suggested locking you inside the house for God knows how long, you did not oppose. You were all too happy to stay inside…safe and independent as you possibly could be under the circumstances. However, everything changed when your father died.

It had only been a few months after he died when you experienced one of your heats…the worst you’d ever been through. You couldn’t even recall it, blocking most of it out due to the trauma and pain. You did recall how scared your mother had been though. How worried she had been that you would not make it, that what you normally did to get you through your heats was no longer working. Reluctantly, she began to accept that you would need an alpha after all.

You had begged for otherwise, crying even, and she had cried too, but you could see the genuine fear for your life in her eyes. You had brought up the idea of suppressants, but you had known her answer before she even opened her mouth. They had always been adamantly against them due to the side effects, side effects that you had never given a flying hoot about.

She was determined to find you a nice alpha who would treat you right, who could be trusted with your life and care. You had begged her to reconsider, and she had promised to think about it, but deep down, you knew that her mind was made up. It had taken you less than a day to take her card and buy a plane ticket to Norway. Another two to transfer as much money as you could into an account your parents had opened for you forever ago but had never used. The same day you packed a single bag was the same night you had snuck out to catch the flight.

You were in Norway an entire month before finding a man who sold suppressants. You’d bought as many as possible in bulk, fortune enough to get enough to last for half a year. You’d been in Norway for a year and had only ventured out to buy from him twice. He was a beta and American, and you wondered how much business he got. How many omegas had the same idea as you to hide in the rural land of a foreign country?

The thunder outside rumbled louder now, much louder, and you pulled yourself from the tub just as the kettle began to scream inside the house. You wrapped your towel around you before going to turn it off. It was then that the outside was lit up by lightning, but it flashed in such a way that startled you. You turned to look out of the window, the outside so bright that you could’ve mistaken it for day time.

You heard something hit the ground hard, bringing lightning with it as it struck the earth, shaking the cottage. It was dark again, but you could see a rather large shape prone on the ground outside of your cottage. Your brows furrowed, and you hurried to put on a t-shirt and some pajama bottoms. Hesitantly, you went to open the door, and you gasped as you realized the figure was a man.

Confusion tore through you, but you ran outside anyway. It was lightly raining now, dampening your clothes and hair as you neared him. His golden hair haloed around his head, facial hair consistent and tasteful, and for some reason, he was familiar to you in the darkness. You knelt beside him, looking him over. The only light was the faint light from inside your house that stretched from the window and open door.

You couldn’t see much, but he eventually groaned. He started to sit up, and you recoiled a bit, but he groaned in pain as he did so. He was clearly hurt, and considering you were sure he fell from the sky, that didn’t surprise you.

“Can you stand?”

He mumbled something, and you couldn’t make it out, but he attempted to stand anyway. You helped him up, and it was then, when you were so close, that you recognized him. Your eyes widened, and you rushed to get him inside. It was pouring now.

When you both stumbled inside, you were able to see that he was hurt…badly. Blood soaked the front of his shirt, some more on his arms and neck area, but it seemed that his stomach was the worst of it. Miraculously, you were able to help him to your bed, the queen-sized furniture looking much smaller with his large frame on it. He passed out almost as soon as his back hit the mattress.

You blinked, staring at him in both awe and fear. He was as large and imposing as you always thought he’d be, hair golden and features sharp. You reminded yourself that he was injured, and you struggled to get his shirt off. You recalled seeing him on the news a few times before you’d left, fighting alongside other heroes like Captain America and Iron-Man. You also recalled that he was an alpha.

As you cleaned him up, you also reminded yourself that he was a hero. That he was one of the good guys and his presentation did not negate that. The cut on his stomach wasn’t deep, he’d lost more blood than anything, but you still thought it needed to be stitched. The problem with that was you were in a small cottage practically in the middle of nowhere.

You had a first aid kit lying around and was able to stem the bleeding with some bandages. It would have to do until he woke up. It hadn’t fully hit you yet that a superhero, a god, was lying in your bed, injured. You didn’t know if he was hurt anywhere else, but you decided you weren’t going to check. You’d wait for him to wake. You simply stared at him for a while, unsure of what to do before deciding to sit down in the rocking chair in the corner.

Your emotions were at war with themselves, and you didn’t know how to proceed. This man was a stranger, an alpha at that, and that made you nervous. You couldn’t ignore the small twinge of fear you felt at being in his presence. Sure, you had been on suppressants for a year, but your paranoia couldn’t be helped. On the other hand, he was a hero, loved by all. He was meant to protect, and part of you thought you should feel safer with him in your house.

You didn’t know how long you stared at him, tense and afraid and confused, but you eventually felt your head lolling. The rain outside was soothing, and it calmed your nerves, relaxing you. You succumbed to some much-needed sleep.

You woke up to the sound of a loud deep groan. You stirred a bit, back aching as you moved, confusion filling you. You heard the sound again, and when you blinked your eyes open, it took a moment for your memory to return.

You had an Avenger in your bed.

You sat up as he finally stirred, eyes blinking open to stare up at the ceiling. You glanced outside to see that you’d both slept the night through. You were a bit surprised with yourself that you had grown relaxed enough around him to even fall asleep, let alone sleep so soundly. You winced when you stood, and the movement drew his attention to you. You froze when his bright eyes landed on you, but he didn’t look alarmed…or even worried for that matter.

Why would he? You weren’t a threat in the slightest and he clearly knew that.

“Where am I?” he wondered, pushing himself up to a sitting position.

You reached out before pulling your hands back, unsure if you should help him.

“You’re in Norway,” you answered. “Flekkefjord to be exact.”

His gaze descended, and you followed it to his stomach. The bandages you put over his stomach were lightly stained with blood, but you were relieved to see that you were right: the wound wasn’t that bad. He ran his hand over his abdomen before lifting his gaze to you.

“You bandaged me.”

His voice was deep, like it was full of thunder, and the low timber warmed your body in the way a blanket would. It was strange.

“You were bleeding. I didn’t check to see if you were hurt anywhere else,” you gestured to his bottom half. “I would let you do that when you woke up…”

He pressed his hand to his head, groaning again as he moved to stand. You jumped into action, reaching out to see if he needed help, but he gently waved you off. You swallowed as you eyed him, his large build making your already small cottage look miniscule. He looked around with a hum.

“You fell out of the sky,” you quietly began in case he couldn’t remember. “You almost hit my house…”

He looked at you again, face genuinely apologetic.

“I am sorry,” he apologized although there was no need. “I was…”

He trailed off, seeming to be thinking hard before he slowly rested his hands on his waist, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Loki,” he whispered, disdain and disappointment coloring his tone.

That name was not unfamiliar to you. It wasn’t unfamiliar to anyone who lived in New York for a time or kept up with the news. Your eyes widened, and Thor noticed.

“He will not come here,” he hurried to assure you. “I swear it, Lady…”

You blinked before answering him.

“Y/N,” you told him.

He eyed you for a moment, quickly running his eyes over your frame, and you swallowed under the scrutiny. His nostrils flared.

“Lady Y/N,” he eventually said, resting a hand on your shoulder.

A twinge of discomfort registered in your gut before you noticed him sway slightly. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm and the other on his back as you helped him turn around.

“I don’t think you should be standing.”

“Nonsense,” he chuckled, but sat down anyway. “I am feeling a bit faint is all. Loki did more damage than I initially thought he would.”

You helped him lean back against the headboard, ignoring his inquiring gaze.

“I cleaned the wounds, but if you want a proper bath I can leave for a while. I should probably go into town and get some things for you anyway. I don’t know how long it’ll take for you to fully heal, but it shouldn’t take any longer than a week or so.”

He hummed in agreement.

“You do not seem at all bothered that I fell out of the sky and into your lawn,” he acknowledged.

The corner of your lip curved upwards ever so slightly.

“I was more concerned with your wellbeing at first, but once I recognized you it suddenly made a lot more sense,” you replied.

“Yes, I seem to have a habit of falling out of the sky,” he murmured, sounding a bit annoyed by that.

You turned away from him.

“Let me run you a bath,” you said, nearing the tub. “…and then I’ll get some things from town.”

It didn’t take long for hot water to fill the bathtub, and you suddenly wondered how this giant of a god was going to fit inside. You almost wanted to stick around, sure it would be comical to witness, but truth be told you wanted to get away from him for a bit.

You threw on a jacket and some shoes, realizing that you wouldn’t be able to change into something more presentable, not with Thor here. You worriedly eyed him as you neared the door, and he waved you off.

“I will make it in and out of the bath just fine, Lady Y/N,” he told you.

You pursed your lips before nodding and leaving, feeling his inquiring gaze on you until you shut the door behind you.  

“Your hands are divinely touched, Lady Y/N,” Thor praised.

You threw him a small smile, embarrassment heating your face at his compliment. You both were seated at the table, eating some soup you’d just made. You made sure it included plenty of meat. The blond Avenger had been recuperating at your house for a few days, and in that time, you’d learned quite a bit about him. Notably, that he loved to eat. Especially meat.

“It’s nothing special,” you quietly replied.

“You do that a lot,” he suddenly said.

You frowned at him, pausing in your movements.

“Do what?” you wondered.

“Downplay your talents. You did it the other day when I complimented you on your help with my wound,” he explained.

You didn’t know what to say to that, unaware that you were even doing it. Part of you recognized why though. His compliments and praises made you preen, the omega qualities in you that you’d suppressed for so long rearing their ugly heads. Aside from high school and the occasional passerby in town, you did not interact with alphas. Ever.

You liked his compliments, but you didn’t at the same time. They spoke to a part of you that you wished didn’t exist. Ever since he’d literally fallen into your life, you’d had to up your suppressant intake. You knew the dangers that lied with that, but you didn’t care. Besides, it wasn’t going to be a long-term thing. Just until he was fully healed…

“I hadn’t noticed,” you honestly told him.

You could feel his gaze on you, and when you looked up, you found his brows furrowed. There was that curiosity again, like he was trying to figure you out, and that put you on edge. It seemed like he was always trying to figure you out, eying you and sniffing around you when he thought you didn’t notice. You didn’t think he meant any harm by it, but it still bothered you. He was an alpha, and he couldn’t pick up a scent from you that told him your presentation. You knew that it put his nerves on edge. He’s a hero, a good guy. You had to remind yourself of that. You could trust him, and in a few days, he’d be gone anyway.

“You are all alone out here. Why? Where is your family?”

You set your spoon down.

“My father died some years ago. My mother and the rest of my relatives are back in the states. I just like the solitude,” you shrugged.

It was a lie, and you hoped that he could not tell. He continued to eye you with a hum.

“…but you are completely alone. Surely you get…lonely…”

Again, you shrugged.

“I like being alone,” you simply told him with a small smile.

He returned it, but it did not reach his eyes.

“I am almost healed. It just pains me to leave a fine lady such as yourself out here all alone,” he said.

“That’s sweet, Thor, but I’ve been here for a year now. I’m perfectly happy…and safe.”

You avoided his eyes as you continued eating. You didn’t like all of this questioning, it made you nervous, made your heart race and blood pump faster.

“How’s your stomach?” you asked him, changing the subject.

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and you pretended not to notice.

“It is healing well. I shall help you with the bandages tonight,” he answered.

You stood, grabbing your bowl.

“Are you done?”

“I am,” he said with a grin, watching as you cleared his side of the table.

You heard him stand as you set the dishes in the sink.

“I shall step outside for a stroll. Work to get my strength back,” he told you.

“Okay,” you called over your shoulder, relief coursing through you when he exited.

He always stepped outside for a while so you could bathe. You were sure that he did enjoy being outside, exercising a bit to regain his health, but you also figured it was not needed. You were grateful he awarded you the privacy. It was also when you took the time to take your suppressants. You were downing them twice a day since he’d arrived, just to be on the safe side, and where as you would normally just take them in the early hours of the morning, you now had to sneak them in during the evening too.

The steaming water soothed you, took your mind off of your present worries for a while. You reminded yourself that they wouldn’t last for much longer. You also had to keep reminding yourself that Thor was one of the heroes. He wasn’t like the alphas your parents told you about…or those boys in high school… He was one of the good ones.

You didn’t linger in the water, and you quickly dried yourself after stepping out. You hurried to get dressed, rushing to grab your pills before Thor reentered. You had just swallowed it down with a glass of water when the door opened. You were nonchalant as you closed the bottle back, shooting him a small smile as you went to put them back into your cabinet.

“I’m feeling almost as good as new. Healthy as a horse,” he chuckled. “Tony said that once…”

You laughed with him. Despite your paranoia, Thor was very easy to get along with. He had such a kind easygoing nature, and it was why you were so inclined to trust him. You suddenly thought about something, something you hadn’t considered before, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Do you think they’re looking for you?” you kept your tone light.

He talked about the other Avengers quite often, and it definitely seemed like they would be searching for him. You didn’t need anyone else discovering you.

“More than likely,” he answered as you faced him with new bandages. “…but I shall not remain here for much longer. I shall soon be out of your hair, Lady Y/N.”

You threw him a crooked smile before looking away when he removed his shirt, sitting down.

“You can just call me Y/N. I’ve told you that,” you murmured as you approached him.

His chest shook as he laughed, and you swiftly removed the old bandage. You frowned a bit, noticing that he was practically healed. However, you were no doctor. Thor clearly must still be in some sort of pain and discomfort, so you moved to get some cream to rub over his stomach. You could feel his eyes on you.

“Are you ill, Lady Y/N?”

You briefly glanced up at him and found his gaze on you, blue eyes inquiring. There was something else there, hiding within the curiosity that you could not name.

“No, why do you ask?”

“I saw you ingesting some medicine just before I came in. I want to make sure that you are well…”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you kept your face neutral and voice light as you chuckled.

“It’s just for headaches. I get terrible migraines, and a few years ago it became severe enough where I was prescribed medicine for it. Nothing to worry about,” you told him with a soft smile.

He returned it when you caught his gaze, but again, it did not reach his eyes.

“There! All done,” you said.

He stood, and you stumbled back, unsure if you would ever get used to the sheer size of him. You watched as he began grabbing the blankets and some pillows.

“You really should sleep in the bed, you know,” you sighed. “I really don’t mind sleeping on the floor…”

“Nonsense! I am almost well. You are doing much for me already, the least I can do is let you have your bed,” he replied.

It was similar to what he’d said the third night when he insisted you take the bed. You exhaled in defeat, but eventually nodded. It was almost crazy how quickly you’d grown to be comfortable around the blond Avenger. You didn’t think the paranoia would ever go away, a product of your upbringing, but a good portion of you felt safe around him.

You slid into your bed with ease as he made himself comfortable on the floor beside you. The first two nights, you couldn’t even relax enough to go to sleep until he was, but your body sagged with fatigue as soon as you made yourself comfortable. Sleep claimed you almost as soon as your head hit the pillow.

Thor was awake before you when you finally stirred. The smell of bacon and eggs in the air took you by surprise, and you sat up with a confused smile. You didn’t even know he knew how to use the stove, but you were pleasantly surprised, nonetheless.

“Good morning, Lady Y/N,” he boomed.

“Morning,” you mumbled as you got out of bed.

“This is my show of gratitude for being such a hospitable host,” he said as you neared him. “Sit.”

The command shot straight through you, and you frowned at him, only briefly, but eventually you sat. A plate was sat before you not long after, and you eyed the food, stomach growling.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” you told him as he sat down across from you.

He threw you a playful wink, golden locks brushing his shoulders.

“There are a great many things you do not know of me.”

You chuckled before digging in. You glanced out of the window, noticing the clear sky.

“I believe I shall take my leave tomorrow,” he suddenly said.

You returned your gaze to him, somehow simultaneously relieved and disappointed.

“You’re feeling much better then…”

“I am. It is thanks to you,” he sincerely replied. “I would very much like to spend the day helping you. Whether it be going into town or in the garden.”

You smiled at him.

“Okay.”

The rest of breakfast passed in a comfortable silence. You were all too happy to admit that Thor cooked better than you did. It was enjoyable, and yet, you kept feeling like you were forgetting something. When Thor stood to clear the table, he lingered by your chair. You looked up when his hand landed on your shoulder. You tensed, but his thumb brushed over a place where your shoulder met your neck, and you instinctively relaxed.

“So which shall it be first?”

You were momentarily dazed, blinded by his grin before blinking.

“Uh…the m-market. I need more seeds,” you quietly told him.

He nodded and moved away. It took a moment for you to clear your head. Another to realize he’d eventually stepped out to allow you to get dressed. You did so quickly, still feeling a nagging in your mind that was trying to remind you of something very important.

Thor’s “disguise” in town merely consisted of a dark hoodie and some shades. He didn’t stray from you the entire time, and his constant presence brought out conflicting emotions in you. His hovering unnerved you, but something in your stomach fluttered every time his arm brushed along yours or he touched your shoulder with his hand.

He didn’t relent when you made it back to your cottage. His constant touches and praises were making your heart race. Thor was attractive, anyone could see that, and it wasn’t like you hadn’t noticed, but you found yourself eyeing him more than usual. You found yourself inhaling his scent at times. You didn’t understand where this had come from…until you were soaking in the hot water that night.

You sat up with a shock, water splashing as you stared at the wall in front of you with wide eyes. Your heart felt like it was going jump out of your throat as your eyes slowly trailed to your cabinet. Hurriedly you jumped out of the tub, almost tripping in the process. Water splashed everywhere as you wrapped the towel around you and ran to the cabinet.

Everything was suddenly making sense. You normally took them first thing in the morning, before Thor even woke up, but he’d woken up first this morning and it had slipped your mind. You surmised that your double dosages were the only thing keeping your body somewhat under control. You couldn’t believe that you had forgotten to take them this morning. You couldn’t believe that…they weren’t here.

Frantic, you pushed other bottles and glasses around, but your eyes weren’t playing tricks. They were gone. You heard the door open behind you, and your stomach dropped to your stomach. You spun around to find Thor leaning against the doorjamb, your pills in his hand. He turned them over, eyeing them as he let out a low hum.

“Do you know how dangerous these are?”

You didn’t know what to say, mouth opening and closing.

“Do you have any idea what these do to you?”

Anger coated his tone, and you couldn’t hold in the whimper that climbed out of your throat at his ire. His eyes met yours, and your lower back hit the sink.

“Thor,” you quietly pleaded, all of your parents’ warnings hitting you at once.

He stepped inside, and you flinched.

“I won’t expose you,” he murmured, and you didn’t know if you should be relieved or not. “I would never do that.”

His eyes softened, and your shoulders sagged. Your relief was short lived when he marched towards you though. Frightened, you stumbled away from him, only to realize too late what he was actually doing.

“No,” you cried as he poured them down the sink, reaching for his hand.

He caught yours in an iron grip, pulling you against him. Your lip trembled as he looked down his nose at you, inhaling. You felt warm, and you tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you.

“…but I don’t want you taking those anymore.”

You glared at him, and a low rumble sounded from within his chest, eating away at your annoyance. Your face fell, tears in your eyes before you eventually nodded. He was leaving tomorrow… After that, you could do whatever you want.

“Okay,” you whispered.

His jaw clenched, and one of his hands came up to rest in the crook of your neck, drawing patterns into the skin.

“Promise me…omega,” he softly said.

A shiver ran down your spine at the command…at what he’d called you. No one had ever referred to you as that before, and it made your stomach clench.

“I promise.”

His eyes narrowed, and for some reason he didn’t seem satisfied, but he relented. His hands landed on your bare shoulders, and you found yourself leaning towards him.

“Get dressed, omega, and get some rest.”

You watched as he left the cottage to give you privacy. Shaky, you eventually dressed yourself. No matter how hard you tried, your hands wouldn’t stop trembling. Thor knew…and he’d gotten rid of your suppressants. You were beyond terrified, but Thor said he wouldn’t out you. To be honest, you could get into a lot of trouble for what you had done, so you wanted to believe him.

It was quiet when he returned, the air tense. You nervously eyed him, and Thor noticed. He heaved a sigh, resting his hand on your head, stroking your hair. It was oddly relaxing.

“It is late, and you must rest. You are safe with me…”

His blue eyes met yours as you mulled over his words. In the days you’d known him, he had never once made you feel unsafe. So, against the odd feeling in your gut, you nodded and made your way to your bed. You could hear Thor gathering his own pillows and such as you made yourself comfortable.

It took you forever to fall asleep, heart racing at the knowledge that this alpha had found you out and gotten rid of your suppressants. That you were alone with him. He’s a hero, one of the good guys. You repeated that to yourself over and over again until you finally drifted into sleep.

It was sometime in the night when you were pulled from sleep. You didn’t know why, but you could faintly feel movement, the bed moving with it. You didn’t understand what was happening at first, not until you felt hands on you. You murmured incoherently, stirring, but your own movements were somewhat restricted. A heat surrounded you that wasn’t your own.

You felt…caged in.

You blinked, eyes fluttering open as your blurry vision finally cleared, colors and shapes separating to make up what was before you. You felt hot, much too hot to be considered normal. You moved again, leg dragging along the bed, but something prevented you from moving them completely. Your own eyes focused in on blue ones, and you gasped.

“Thor,” you mumbled, confusion and sleep still fogging your brain. “What…?”

He shushed you, and his lips brushed against your own. You couldn’t comprehend that your mouth was moving against his, tentatively…unsure. His lips were soft, pillowy even, and you absentmindedly wondered if kissing was always like this. It grew heated, his mouth pressing against yours, almost harshly, and that was when reality hit.

With a horrified yelp, you finally moved to shove against him. It was futile, and you knew this. Thor was a god, literally, and he had the physique of one. Tears kissed your eyes as he didn’t move, instead pressing himself against you more firmly. You protested against his lips.

“Thor-! Stop, stop,” you gasped.

His hands kneaded any part of you they could reach. You were crying now as he tore at your clothes, the sound of tearing fabric reaching your ears. This couldn’t be happening. He was one of the good ones…

“You’ve been poisoning yourself for a year,” he murmured, voice deep and pained.

You shivered beneath him when the cold air hit you, but he was quick to envelope you in his arms. It was then that you realized he was naked, had been since before you awoke it seemed. You felt like you were going to be sick, but that primal part of you, the one that your genetic makeup controlled, did not hold the same sentiments.

“I do not even want to imagine what you have done to your body…my little omega,” he whispered into the darkness.

You frantically shook your head at that, hitting against him now.

“Thor, p-please,” you begged, voice horse. “You said…you said I was safe with you.”

Your tone was accusatory, anger at both him and you filling you. Your parents had been right. They had always been right, and you had even seen it for yourself. Why did you allow yourself to trust him?

The moonlight shed some light into the cottage through the window, and you could see a frown on his handsome features.

“You are safe with me. I shall take care of you from now on…like you should have been cared for all this time,” he responded.

“No, no!”

You punched his chest, nails digging into his skin, and he hissed, eyes flashing dangerously. In one swift movement, he’d flipped you, pressing your chest into the mattress. One hand was pushing into your back while the other pinned one of your wrists down.

You cried harder when his legs made a home in between yours, spreading them apart. You could feel him hard and throbbing against the back of your thigh, and you shook beneath him. He gently shushed you, but it did no good.

You were growing hotter by the minute, and even though you hadn’t experienced one in over a year, you knew what was happening to you. You could feel yourself growing slick, your core hot and aching for only what an alpha could give you.

His lips grazed your cheek as he leaned over you, rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet folds. His chest vibrated against your back, soothing sounds leaving his lips, and you fought against the feeling that threatened to wash over you. You opened your mouth to plead with him, but the only thing that escaped your lips was a pained gasp as he thrust into you.

You whimpered, more tears falling over and nails digging into the pillows. You attempted to crawl away from the pain, away from him, but he followed, twitching inside of you as he did so. His blond hair kissed your cheek as he pressed his forearms into the bed beside your head, caging you in.

You couldn’t feel anything but him, smell anything but him. His presence was everywhere, and it was getting harder to resist your own instincts. You whimpered again as he started to move, fresh tears spilling over.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, my sweet omega.”

You shuddered, clenching around him, and he hissed. Your eyelashes fluttered, feeling as if you could feel him in your stomach. His thrusts were slow and purposeful, each pull of his cock pulling a whine from you. You pressed your forehead against the pillow, breath shallow and lips trembling as you fought between what you wanted and what your body wanted.

The bed began to shake as he started to speed up, and the intensity made you flinch, attempting to get away again. His other hand grabbed your other wrist, and he completely fell against you, rendering you immobile as he rutted into you. Unintelligible noises escaped you, and you realized that you could do nothing but lay there and take his cock.

The noises your slick core made in the quiet cottage embarrassed you, heat flooding your cheeks. Thor moaned above you, lost in the feel of your velvet walls clenching around him again and again. It was only when his teeth grazed along your throat did you start to struggle again.

“No, no,” you screamed, attempting to push your elbows against him.

He only shushed you in what was meant to be a soothing tone. Against your will, you could feel yourself beginning to shake, body seizing up in a way you had never experienced. It was in that moment did you feel his teeth sink into the skin of your neck, where it connected with your shoulder. You screamed again, the yell dying down into sobs as you felt a thin line of blood crawl down your skin. Even worse, you could feel him swelling inside of you.

You wanted to try and crawl away again, away from him and the pain, but you knew how stupid that would be with Thor knotted inside of you. You were practically hysterical now, chest heaving and vision blurry as he remained inside of you. He finally pulled his face away, and you couldn’t hold in the whimper. He ran his tongue over your neck, humming.

Sleep crawled along the peripheral of your mind, and you didn’t know whether to fight against it or accept it with open arms. You didn’t know whether you wanted to fight to get away or give up and come to terms with your new harsh reality. The latter was starting to win.

“I shall have to get Bruce to look over you and make sure you did not do permanent damage to yourself,” he murmured against your skin.

You groaned in response, both the physical and mental assault taking a toll on you.

“Your little cottage shall remain here. We can come to visit and vacation from time to time. I shall want to bask in these memories in the future…”

“Thor,” you pleaded, still unable to move with him inside of you.

“…I am your alpha now. No more of that vile poison and no more fending for yourself. You belong to me now.”

You felt yourself drifting, blinking at the wall, and his lips brushed against yours.

“I shall take care of you as you took care of me.”

 ~

tags: @nerdygirl8203​ @xoxabs88xox​ @mcudarklibrary​ @darkficreposter​ @villanellevi​ @readermia​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @nickyl316h​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @ne-gans​ @

[peach-the-owl]

Tainted Innocence

Percy & Younger Sibling!Reader

You let out a fit of coughs, being sick sucked, you couldn’t move without getting dizzy, you couldn’t join the family for dinner or else you might get someone else sick, and worst of all you couldn’t leave your room to play. So here you lay on your bed wishing to get better soon so you could play outside under the sun. A sudden commotion could be heard outside your door, shouts and screams ringing down the halls, you ever curious would’ve loved to investigate if it wasn’t for the fact that your dizzy head would make you nauseous the second you got up. The sounds only got louder until they were right outside your room, you throw the covers over your head in an attempt to hide from whatever the scary noise was. You hear your door open and try to stay as still and quiet as possible, unfortunately your hit with another fit of coughs making your presence known to whoever had entered.

"My my, what have we here?" The woman’s voice was vaguely familiar, making you peek out from under the covers to see only the darkened outline of a feminine figure. "Poor, sweet little (y/n), caught a fever have we?" The more they spoke the more you could recognize the voice as Delilah Briarwood's, you’d met her a once before and she seemed nice but now her tone sounded almost sinister for some reason.

"Yeah, I’m not feeling very well. You probably shouldn’t be here, I don’t want you to get sick too." You say innocently, before going into yet another fit of coughs. She lets out a chuckle, by now it seemed the sounds from outside your room had faded into nothing.

"How considerate of you to think of my well being. What if I were to tell you I knew a way that could… cure you of your ailments." The ominous undertones she had went right over your head.

"Really?! You can do that!?" You bounce excitedly in place, quickly stopping from the dizziness in your head.

"Not only that, but you'll never have to worry about getting sick ever again." The offer almost sounded too good to be true.

"That sounds awesome! Let’s do it!" You were brimming with excitement at the thought of never having to worry about sickness again.

"Calm down now, all will be well in due time. For now you should rest, my husband and I shall handle everything and I guarantee you’ll wake up like a brand new person." You give her a nod and are hit by a sudden wave of exhaustion. "Sleep now… my child." You don’t have time think about why she referred to you like that before your vision goes dark and your mind goes blank…

Lady Delilah was right, when you awoke again you no longer had your fever and felt completely different, but even though you did feel all better now you still weren’t allowed to leave the castle. You were only allowed to wander the wing where your room was or explore the catacombs, even then there wasn’t much you could do but that's what you were told you were allowed so you had to follow the rules. It was strange though to be told all this by the Briarwoods, wondering why it was them instead of your parents to tell you all these new rules and why one of the rules was you couldn’t see anyone else in your family. You had asked about this once but Delilah only told you that once you were ready they’d tell you everything, so time went by and you stayed alone, forced to play inside away from any sunlight, almost completely isolated from social contact. You don’t know how long it’s been, no longer having a way to tell day from night made it really hard to know how many hours or days had passed, everything just blurring together. There was one other thing that really bothered you and that was this strange sensation you’d get from time to time, it was almost like you were hungry but also not because you’d eat like normal and the feeling wouldn’t go away. You told the Briarwood's about this but Lord Sylas just told you that if you’d ignore it then it would go away by itself, what he didn’t tell you is that you’d pass out and wake up with a strange metallic-y taste in your mouth, at least the feeling went away though, right?

Another day, or what you thought might be a day, goes by as you wander the tunnels having mapped them out to memory by now. You brought some toys with you to play around with for some entertainment and hoping deep down that one day something new or different might finally happen, then you heard something faint hit your ears. It was different but at the same time it could’ve just been another rat scurrying around with how faint it was so you ignore it. There's another sound like quick footsteps approaching getting louder until it comes to a halt close to where you were playing making you glance over your shoulder at the man staring at you. He looked very familiar you just couldn’t place why right away, you turn to fully face them and have a better look.

"Hi there mister. You look familiar, do I know you?" You ask them with a slight tilt to your head. They just stare at you in silence their eyes wide in horror, you look behind you to see if they were looking at something behind you but find nothing and look back at them in confusion. "Is something wrong?" You step towards them and they step away in retaliation furthering your confusion.

"No no nononono. This isn’t real, you can’t be real." He presses his hands to his head, his voice also sounded familiar, who was he?

"You’re really weird." You then poke your arm to as a way to show you were really there, then let out a giggle. "See, I’m real, if I was fake I couldn’t poke my arm." You place your hands triumphantly on your waist but the man didn’t look impressed, instead he looked like he was going to vomit. "Are you okay? You don’t look well." You take another step towards him out of concern.

"Don’t come any closer!" He holds up a strange item you’ve never seen before, there’s a slight shake to his hand. You stop and stare interested in the strange item, it had fancy engravings on it, six hollow slots and some odd mechanism the man warily held a finger over.

"What’s that? It’s so cool and fancy, what does it do?" You lean in closer to it curiously.

"This isn’t real, you’re just an illusion to mess with my head." He sounded hesitant, like he was trying to convince himself of something. Having been able to look at the man this long it finally clicked in your head why he was so familiar.

"Wait a second… Percy?" This fully draws his attention back onto you. "It is you! What happened? How did you get so big and why's your hair all white?" He looked so different, no wonder you didn’t recognize your own brother right away. He doesn’t answer you, just stares with a look of conflict in his eyes and continues to hold the strange object in his hand towards you, you paying no mind to it. "This is great! Lord and Lady Briarwood said I wasn't allowed talk to anyone, I don’t know why though, but you’re here now so who cares! I miss talking to people, the guards are no fun and there’s hardly anything to do anymore…" You start to ramble on about how boring things have gotten and how you made due, still wondering why or how Percy got so tall and looked so much older. "Where is everyone else? I want to ask mother and father why the Briarwoods seem to be in charge." This statement really got to Percy, making his eyes go wide in realization.

"You… you don’t know?" You tilt your head in confusion, what where you supposed to know. There’s a strange wispy or smoky substance that trails up Percy's arm, then the sound of a loud bang followed by ringing fills your ears, something grazed past your cheek, cutting into it a little and leaving a lingering stinging sensation behind. You quickly place a hand on your cheek where it hurt, recoiling away only hearing a clattering and soft thud after a moment of silence. You slowly turn back and see your brother had dropped the item from his hand and was on his knees, holding his face in both his free hands now, his entire body physically shaking and he lets out a series of coughs.

"P-Percy? Are you okay?" You approach with much more caution this time, trying to ignore the throbbing pain still in your cheek. More footsteps can be heard hurrying towards your location.

"We heard gunfire and came as fast as we could." A half-elven man was the first to reach your location, he looks over seeing you and takes a step back in surprise.

"Hi there, are you a friend of Percy's?" You ask, rocking back and forth on your feet.

"I am. Did you do this to him?" There was a threatening tone to his voice that made you feel scared and uncomfortable.

"I don’t know, I was just playing because I was bored, then he showed up and I didn’t recognize him at first, then I did and got really excited because I haven’t seen anyone in what feels like forever, then there was a loud bang and now my cheek hurts and he was just like this." You try to explain as best as you could. By now others who were most likely with the half-elf showed up, having heard at least some of your explanation, they looked at you with wide eyes. "And why does everyone look at me like that, is there something wrong with my face or something?"

"That’s one way to put it." A half-elven woman who looked very similar to the male one talks slowly. "Do you mind telling us your name little one?"

"Of course! I’m (y/n) de Rolo." You reply proudly.

"You’re a de Rolo?" The glowing gnome sounded sad for some reason, why was everyone sad? Shouldn’t this be a good thing?

"Yeah… why are you all acting so weird? What’s going on? Who are you?" You cross your arms, getting a little frustrated from your lack of answers, just wanting to be in the know. They whisper among themselves, you barely catchy anything coherent before they turn back to face you.

"Do you mind giving us a minute alone, please." Percy having finally gotten a better hold of himself asks, you give a small nod and step away, picking up your discarded toys to mindlessly play with. You discovered if your really focused you could hear what they were whispering about, though it was hard to decipher who’s voice belonged to who.

"Is it true? Are they really your…"

"I-I’m not sure anymore." You were able to at least tell your brothers voice apart from the others.

"How could you not know!?"

"They seem pretty clueless themselves, it’s like they not only still have the body of a child but also the mentality of one too."

"Perhaps that’s from the lack of social contact, they did say they’ve been alone for a long time."

"Percy… this changes everything we know."

"No, this changes nothing, it only makes it more complicated."

"How can you say something like that, they’re your family!"

"They’ve been turned into a monster, whether they’re aware of it or not!" You frown when you hear this tuning out the rest of their conversation, that couldn’t be right you’re not a monster, sure things were weird and you’ve felt different since your illness was cured but that didn’t make you a monster… did it? You sit aback and look yourself over, holding out your arms in the dim lighting which you now realized you could see rather well in, you always thought that was just because you were so used to coming down here that your eyes adjusted quickly, but now you didn’t know anymore. Focusing back on your arms you also notice that your skin was extremely pale then what it normally was. When was the last time you’d seen yourself in a mirror? You’ve passed some in the halls of the castle but never payed much mind to them, and now that you thought about it when was the last time you’d seen the sunshine? You really missed playing outside but always just followed the rules the Briarwood's gave you because they were the grownups and they knew what was best, right? The sound of footsteps coming back your way slightly pull you from your thoughts, but you don’t bother looking up and just stare at the ground in front of you. You hear a shaky sigh but before they can speak you beat them to it.

"There’s something wrong with me, isn’t there." Your blissful joy was gone, replaced with doubt and sadness.

"I-how much did you hear?" Percy's voice wasn’t as angry sounding as it was earlier but there was still tension in it.

"I don’t know, you said something about me being a monster. I thought you were just saying that because you were angry for some reason, but I don’t know anymore. Am-am I really a monster?" You turn and look up at him seeing him flinch slightly, but not quite intentionally. Your lip quivers as you shrink more into yourself. "When we used to play pretend the monsters were always the bad guys… I don’t want to be a bad guy." You whimper and tears start trailing down your face as you try to hide in your arms.

"I didn’t… you’re not… it’s just…" He lets out a long breath followed by a cough and a longer pause. "(Y/n) look at me…" another pause, you don’t move. "Hey, look at me." You feel warm hands pry your face up to make you look at your brother, now you were the one to slightly flinch from the slight sting that was still on your cheek. The two of you have a small staring contest before he speaks up again. "Listen carefully, things are no longer the way you remember them to be, a lot has changed for the worst and for some reason or another you’ve been left to be blissfully unaware of all of it. I don’t know why they decided to do this to you, but I swear we'll figure this out together one step at a time."

"We will?" You give him a hopeful look, he nods slowly

"I hope so… I don’t know who I can all trust here anymore. Things are stressful right now, but if you don’t want to be a part of the bad guys, as you put it, my friends and I are going to need your help. Can you do that, can I really trust you?"

"Yes! I want to help my brother stop the bad guys." You put on your most serious look, Percy then releases his hold on you and you stand up. "Hey Percy?" He lets out a slight hum of acknowledgement. "When we're all done, does that mean I’ll be able to play outside in the sun again?"

"One step at time…" He trails off with a somber sigh. The two of you now heading over to rejoin Percy's group so you could be properly introduced.

Should I continue something with this for a part 2?… or just leave it as is…? Idk, you tell me

[pedros-mustache-main]

what hath night to do with sleep

summary: “rowing in eden—/ah, the sea! /might i moor—tonight—/in thee” — emily dickinson

warnings: suggestive content (not 18+ but be mindful; this isn’t smut, but it’s pretty much all suggestive so..... read with caution!); language, innuendo, me on my historical bullshit 

a/n: i’m sorry. i’m sad this evening, and this happened. my love for jrd and period pieces apparently can’t be contained. there is zero plot.

london, 1840. january.

john shuts the door softly as you enter the house, cutting off the winter chill which nipped at your heels all the way from the theatre to your doorstep. he shivers, rubs his palms together, and stamps his slush covered shoes in the entryway. his footfalls echo in the dimly lit corridor, the floorboards creaking beneath the weight of his heels.

you turn at the coatrack, bonnet strings in hand. “john!” you whisper, your voice like a hot knife through the heavy silence. “quiet or you’ll wake the children.”

“oh, hush. the children sleep like rocks.” bending to pull off his shoes, he peers upwards through his long lashes, a glimmer in the corner of his eye. “i’m more worried about waking the old badger, mrs. poole.”

“already done, sir.” 

john straightens with a cringe as mrs. poole hobbles into the hall. the candle in her chamberstick is stout, like the woman herself, and it casts harsh shadows along her tired face. you bite your lip to keep from smiling as john’s cringe morphs to blanch when mrs. poole skewers him with a dark, entirely unamused look. 

“forgive me, mrs. poole,” john hurries. “i thought you’d gone to bed.”

“can’t have done when you’re out, sir. who is to watch over the door but me and me alone?” 

she shakes her head back and forth as she brushes past him, muttering beneath her breath. john flattens himself against the wall to avoid her wake, and you snort, quickly lifting your hand to hide your smirk when mrs. poole turns from locking the front door. she glances between you and your husband before sighing deeply. 

“ma’am, i ain’t one to speak out of turn—”

john scoffs with a dramatic roll of his eye. mrs. poole frowns, narrowing her gaze. 

“i was sayin’ i ain’t one to speak out of turn, but—”

gently shaking your head, you step forward and circle your arm around mrs. poole’s, tugging her away from john. “mrs. poole, it’s late. why don’t you get some rest.”

the old woman’s steps are slow and awkward, one leg being shorter than the other; she leans into you as you make your way down the hall. at the end of the hall, you say, “i trust the children were well-behaved?”

she nods. “put up no fuss for me or tara.”

“i’m glad to hear it.” you smooth a hand over her tense shoulders then lower your voice, tilting your head in the direction of your husband, who hovers at the base of the stairs, his hands in his pockets, looking for all the world like a boy scolded listening in on his parents determining his punishment. “you know my husband, mrs. poole. he likes a jest. he means nothing by it. we would be in lost in the world without you.”

“yes, i ‘spect you would be.” mrs. poole waves her hand. “go to sleep then, ma’am. the lamplighter will be doin’ his rounds before we know it.”

you wait until the light of her candle disappears around the corner and you can hear her footsteps climbing the staircase to her quarters before twisting on your heel and scurrying to the base of the main stairs. lifting your hand, you swat john’s shoulder before he can stop you.

“john richard, you know better than to tease mrs. poole!” 

he laughs and grabs your wrist when you try to swat him again. he smiles wide, the crinkles around his eyes on full display. “it’s simply too easy to poke at her,” he says. “she gets so riled up and—”

“and you are the most—”

“the most what?” john’s fingers tighten around the pulse of your wrist. his eyebrow quirks upwards. “the most charming? most dashing?” he leans forward, his breath fanning your face. “most handsome?”

his free arm circles around your back and settles in the curve of your waist. he pulls you close, your chest pressed against his. your heart trips, stumbles when the end of his nose brushes yours. he smells like the sharp winter air and the pomade he uses to style the curls of his hair. 

“the most what?” he asks again.

you blink. “what?” 

“you were saying something.” he lowers his mouth to the line of your jaw and nips gently at your skin. “i think you were going to insult me.”

“was i?” you’re practically gasping under his slow assault of your neck, your fingernails deep in the flesh of his arms as he sucks and licks along your skin. he’ll leave marks, you’re sure, but you have powder to cover it. “why would i want to do that?”

john pulls back far enough to kiss the corner of your lips. “my thoughts exactly.”

as he drags you up the stairs and through the hall, one hand tight in yours, the other feeling along the wall for the doorknob of your bedroom, you can’t help but marvel at him. your husband five years, father of your three children, and still he sends the blood in your veins pumping with excitement. he never fails to surprise you, your john. he’s brash when cross, juvenile when he gets around his chum roger, decisive and stern when it comes to his business dealings; he’s intelligent and witty and he’s entirely yours. 

you count yourself blessed. 

he finds the doorknob to your room when he runs into it. 

he stops short and drops your hand to clutch his side in pain. “damnation!” he hisses. “who on earth put a handle there? for fuck’s sake, i could have hit the family jewels with that thing!”

you push the door open yourself, shushing him as he continues to complain. the children are sound asleep down the hall; they won’t hear you. but the idea of a pair of small feet padding down the carpet worries you nonetheless. it’s rare you get a moment alone with john, even when he’s carrying on. you want to savor it as long as you can.

shutting the door with a soft click, you tumble into the darkness together, your hands pulling at the crispy white shirt tucked into his trousers. he continues to mumble under his breath about proper building techniques, even as he slides the buttons of your blouse through their loops. you toss his shirt aside, and it falls to the floor with a soft thump. moonlight bathes the back of his body in a hazy sort of glow, and you sink into him when he kisses you again, his hands pausing when the first layer of your gown falls open.

“you wear too many undergarments,” he whispers. 

you unhook the top of your corset, and air floods your lungs as the tight squeeze of your ribs begins to release. “would you prefer i wear none?”

john makes a sound akin to a growl in the back of his throat, and he swoops forward, bending to wrap his arms around the small of your back and slot his mouth over yours. you hum into his touch, your toes barely planted on the floor as he kisses you thoroughly.

his skin is hot against yours, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as your heart beats. he breaks away to catch his breath, and you tilt your head back, eyes half-shut as he marks your neck and exposed shoulders.

you think you could stay like this forever—with him—in the darkness. 

john loves you well in the daylight. he holds your hand in the crook of his arm when you walk; he winks at you from across the room; he introduces you as his better half. he is everything you need him to be and more.

but in the darkness... in the darkness is where he loves you best. 

as he sets about divesting you of the remainder of your clothing, his hands as skilled as they are frantic, you push aside mrs. poole’s advice for you to get some sleep. night wasn’t made for sleep alone.

[xwing-baby]

Freedom (Mandalorian X Reader

Characters: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin), The Child, Reader, OC Vinca Dara

Warnings: Mentions of sexual abuse, canon level violence

Word Count: 5691 

Synopsis: Y/N is a princess from a planet in the inner rim. Successfully escaping her fate as a Imperial wife, she unfortunately becomes a target for the Mandalorian. 

A/N: WOW I look pretty good for a dead bitch! I’m back after a two year writing hiatus, with a fic nobody asked for. This is my blog I’ll do what I want. I noticed that there’s not much Mandalorian stuff here, and the only stuff is all smutty and romantic. No more. Strictly professional relationships here. Basically it’s what I would write if I got to be a writer on the show. ENJOY 

Tagged: @tortles​ @inked-poet​ @dartheldur

My home planet, in the core of the galaxy, was rich and prosperous. I grew up happily oblivious to any struggle that surrounded me outside the palace walls. I grew up with two older brothers, both jostling for the throne from the age of ten. My mother died in childbirth with me, so my father ruled alone. I had no other family, as I would later learn they had all been murdered by my father and his men to ensure his unopposed ascension to power. 

It wasn’t until I was nearly sixteen years old that I learnt about what my father had done and what was really going on behind the palace walls. The only time I’d ever been allowed out of the palace grounds until that point was for public events, I would stand and wave and smile at the people who came to see us while my father gave a speech about peace and prosperity. However, on my sixteenth birthday I met a boy named Han. Han helped me escape for that one night, showed me around the surrounding city, and my life changed forever. 

A year later, I made my first escape attempt. I didn’t get very far beyond that city perimeter before I was dragged back by the royal guards. I tried again, getting to the next town before again being captured and sent back to my father. 

On my eighteenth birthday, I decided I would try once more. This time I had enlisted Han’s help, now a smuggler, to get me off the planet. I crept out in the depths of night, managed to find the ship and I was gone. That was until the captain of the ship found out who I was, held me hostage and shot me in the arm for trying to escape him and the planet. As it turned out the captain was a great supporter of my father and returned me, with a small fee for the favour of course. 

For the next year, my father kept me under close supervision. But unlike my father, I had sympathy and empathy. I managed to make friends with my supervisor, a old lady named Ellyn. She taught me a lot about what was really going on outside the capitol. The famines and the abuse from the royal guards to the local people. She also told me of the growing concern within the palace of my father’s changing allegiance from the New Republic. These concerns only grew when Storm Troopers were spotted on the outskirts of the city. 

Then I got the news. My father was intending to marry me off to Vinca Dara, the son of an Imperial officer, to aid the new Empire. I was horrified. My uncle had told me stories of the Old Empire when I was little, the pain it brought into the galaxy. The thought of having to be a part of anything like that made me sick. I had to run away, for good this time.

With Ellyn’s help, I managed to barter a ship and escape the planet without anyone realising. I reached the outer rim before anyone knew. By the time anyone had started to look for me I had landed on a new planet. 

And that brought me here. A small, dirty back street bar in the centre of the city. The outer rim was not somewhere good for a princess to be, so to avoid the risk of anyone recognising me, I cut my hair, changed my name and hid. 

Of course, a few bounty hunter’s had made their way to me. But I seemingly had luck on my side because they either gave up or I fought them off before they could capture me. The last attempt was several months ago now, I was comfortable and certain that my father had just given up. 

The bar was busy, as always. Full of criminals and outcasts from the inner rim searching the wild space to something to do, or to give them purpose again. I had to learn fast who and who not to joke with. I learnt a lot more about the galaxy in the last three months of being in this cantina than I had in my life so far.

“Hey! No droids!” I called, not even lifting my head from the sink as I spotted a glint of metal in the corner of my mind.

“That’s not a droid, you idiot,” My coworker, Tann, jabbed me in the ribs, “That’s a mandalorian!” He hissed. “Sorry, she’s new!” He apologised. The Mandalorian didn’t respond.

“New to the galaxy,” One of the creatures at the bar slurred into his drink.

“Alright Rex calm down,” I said, a little embarrassed. “I don’t know they were real,” I said quietly as we all watched the man sit down at an empty table on the other side of the bar. Rex laughed and shook his head.

“You really crawled out from under a rock or something?” 

“Just go do your job, please,” Tann sighed.

I nodded and confidently walked over to the bounty hunter. 

“What can I get you?” 

“I’m trying to find Asker,” The Mandalorian said, looking around behind me. Asker was a regular, a troublemaker and a renowned criminal, but he was paid his bill so the owners of the bar never minded too much. I wondered why the Mandalorian was looking for him for a moment before answering. 

“He left a little while ago,” I replied, “But I imagine he won’t have gone far, maybe try the hostel up the street. Can I get you anything else?” 

“No, thank you,” The Mandalorian shook his head and stood up to leave. 

“Mando!” The pot bellied Asker bellowed through the bar, announcing his presence before he waddled inside. For such a small creature he certainly knew how to make himself known. Asker was just over four feet tall, with grey-ish skin. His large eyes took most of his face that wasn’t covered by a whiley red beard. For someone so small, he was incredibly strong and quick on a trigger, the blast marks that covered the walls of the bar were testament to that. 

The Mandalorian and Asker walked together to the darker back of the bar, specifically reserved for Asker's shady business. Like I said, the owners didn’t really care as long as he paid the bills. 

“You know Mando, it’s been for too long! I missed you,” Asker cried. 

“You didn’t,” 

“No, not really,” Asker barked a laugh, “but I did miss your talent. These new hands they’ve got at the Guild? Awful! Can barely even shoot straight! I’ve been trying to get this quarry off my hands for weeks! All of the have been unsuccessful, so I thought it’s high time I call my lovely friend Mando and get some real professional on the job,” 

“I don’t work for you,” 

“Not even for half a million credits?” 

“Excuse me, gentlemen,can I get you anything?” 

“The usual, thanks darling. My metal friend here can’t drink so he’s all good,” 

“Coming right up,” 

I stepped back to the bar, and they talked a lot quieter from then. I poured the drink and walked back over, back in earshot of the conversation.

“Kids a royal runaway,” Asker said quietly. “Her father is a pretty big deal out in the Mirrin Sector. Last I heard, she’s here in hiding,” 

“Any name?” 

“Y/n L/n,” 

I put the drinks down carefully, trying not let either of the men see how much my hands were shaking. My heart was racing against my chest and I scurried away before I could hear anything else. I leant against the bar and took some deep breaths and tried to calm down. It was fine, I’d fought off the last guys I could do it again. It’s not like mandalorian are the best bounty hunters in the known universe, no. Oh stars! 

“I’m going out for a minute,” I said quickly, already walking out the back door before he could even say yes. I pulled the apron off from around my waist, shoving it into a cargo box before stepping into the bright light outside. 

I squinted and let my eyes adjust to the bright light. Looking back inside, the Mandalorian had not noticed me leave. I was safe for now. I walked through the city's crowded streets, back to where I was staying to come up with a plan. 

I smiled to myself, I’d gotten away with it once again! But four times was too many to be nearly captured by bounty hunters. It was no use anymore just moving to the city, I had to get off the planet. 

The port was quiet, as it would be late in the afternoon. Everyone was either eating or sleeping while the sun started to cool down. I tried the first few stations but each door was locked, the next was empty and the one after it was covered in druids working on the rusted shell. Then, bay 8. The door was open, there were no druids around and the ship looked in  pretty good condition. It was old, pre empire but it looked steady. I quickly checked behind me, that no one had seen me, then went inside, pushing the large gate shut behind me. I had found my ticket out of here. 

My uncle had taught me to fly when I was very little. He unfortunately was murdered by my father before I turned 12 but I cherished the memories I had with him and was extremely grateful for the skills he had passed on now. The first time I ran away I ended on a workers ship and learnt very quickly that the price to pay to get onto the ships and out alive was far too high. The blast scar up my right arm was a reminder of that. Being able to steal a ship and fly it on my own was a major boost. Unfortunately I had been caught before I had managed to leave a planet before. Now was my chance. 

I ran around the ship first, checking it out and making sure there was no one hiding on it. Now, to get inside... 

Before I could even step closer to it, the cargo load hissed and pulled open. I pulled out my blaster and aimed it at the door. I stepped onto the metal once it hit the sand, and barely had the other in step when I saw who had opened it. 

The Mandalorian. 

Shit. 

I kept my blaster raised, and we both stared at each other down for a few moments. 

“You’re Y/n L/n?” He asked carefully. 

“Are you going to kill me if I am?” I retorted. “Cus you’re not the first Asker has sent after me and I know my father wants me alive there’s no way you’re gunna kill me if you want the credits,” 

“Lower your weapon,” He commanded. I refused.

I kept it steadfast. I could do a standoff, all day. I was not going back home. The mandalorian sighed and shot once, barely missing my head, as a warning. I didn’t flinch. 

“This isn’t my first rodeo, Tin Man. Asker must have said I don’t come easy,” I jeered, taunting him. He couldn’t kill me! Wouldn’t risk half a million credits on that. The mandalorian stepped forward, and I took two steps back. “I just want to get off this planet, I’ll pay you. More than you’ll 

get for bringing me in,” 

Before I could say anymore, the Mandlorian fired a dart into my chest. I looked down at it for a moment, then back at him then fell to the ground. Black. 

--

I came too sometime later, handcuffed to the side of the Mandalorian’s ship. My hands and feet here tied. It was quiet. Looking around me, I was in the hold. A small ladder disappeared above me to the rest of the ship. I had no idea where we were, had he taken my request? Or was I on my way back to the hell hole that is my home planet. 

I had to find some way out. Someway to get myself free. I tried to move to reach a tool box so cruelly just out of my reach, but it was no use. Then I heard a little squeal from behind a box. I turned to see where it was coming from but there was nothing. Again, another squeal and a giggle? Was it a rat? I wouldn’t be surprised if there were rats aboard, the place hadn’t been cleaned in forever. But rats don’t giggle, no matter where they’re from. 

Suddenly, a tiny green creature popped up from behind the box. It peered at me for a moment, then hid again. It was so cute! 

“Hey little buddy,” I said quietly, “I won’t hurt you,” The creature slowly stepped out and babbled something at me. I didn’t understand what it said, even if it was speaking any proper language. “Where’d you come from buddy? He got you trapped here too?” The baby giggled and waddled over to me. I smiled and curled my legs round underneath me to let it get a bit closer. I didn’t see any danger in a creature so small. “Why does Mandalorian have a little baby? You’re not his kid are you?”

“Hey! Get away from her,” The Mandalorian had appeared in the hold while I was focused on the baby. The baby babbled and toddled back happily to the Mandalorian. 

“What is that?” 

“Nothing,” 

“It’s not nothing, it’s a baby,” Suddenly I remembered I had seen a drawing of a creature like that one before. My uncle told me about it, a Jedi master or something. “Do you know what it is? My uncle showed me a picture of one of those once, it was a jedi! I bet it can do weird stuff, right? Where did you get it?” 

The Mandalorian ignore my questions and picked up the creature, walked across to the other side of the hold and put it away in a large cupboard. Cruel. I became spiteful. 

“Fine, ignore me then. I’ll just report you to the Guild when I get back home. Tell them you have that thing! People would pay good money for information on a Mandalorian gone rogue! And to think Mandalorian and Jedi were enemies for years, didn’t they murder your kind to near extinction? Seems weird you’ve got one in a box as a pet,” 

“It’s not a Jedi, and you won’t tell anyone. If I find you have, I will kill you, on sight,” 

“You’ll be doing me a favour,” I spat. 

I could tell he was angry, the way his hand waved over his blaster for just a second. I should have been scared of him, deep down I was. But the fate that awaited me at home was worse than being killed by this bounty hunter. I knew we can’t be far now. I didn’t have much time left to convince the Mandalorian not to send me back to my father. If it came down to it I really would rather die. 

The Mandalorian disappeared up the ladder once more, satisfied that I wasn’t going to cause anymore fuss right now. Before I could even call after him to try and make amends and get him to actually help me, the hatch slammed shut and it was too late. 

---

A few hours later, I had dozed off but was harshly awoke by the Mandalorian shaking my shoulders. 

“We’re here,” He stated, pulling me up by the shoulder. I shrugged him off, and stood up on my own. My feet had been untied already, I rolled my ankles and sighed as my body clicked. The bounty hunter wasn’t having it, grabbed my arm harshly and dragged me down the ramp to the ground. “Come on,” 

The site of my home planet made me sick. It was happening. For months I had managed to be unknown, successfully getting away from this place. But I was now being dragged back, by a Mandalorian none the less, to be dragged through my city like a criminal. 

The Child reappeared as we stepped off the ship, babbling quickly and waddling as fast as it could. The Mandalorian grumbled unintelligibly and dragged me back up, collected the child and locked it away, pulled me back down to the soil of the planet. I could hear the creature complain from its little box and wondered if it was trying to help me. Whatever it wanted, the Mandalorian ignored it, closed the cargo door and we walked into the city gates to my family's palace. 

The site of the grand building made me sick. When I was younger I didn’t know of anything different, I didn’t know of the suffering of the people beyond the city walls. The people who worked tirelessly everyday on the lush fields only to be paid single credits for the hard labour, and all the food going to my family and court. I never knew of the suffering and poverty that my father ruled over while we lived such lavish lives inside. I had tried to explain it to my brothers after my first escape attempt, they just laughed. Said that that was just the way the world worked. There was a set order. I hated it, actively spoke out against them but all it did was get me slapped and set away to my chambers.

We were met by my father and two brothers in the great hall. Staff stood to attention around the perimeter, glaring at me like I was dirt, as I was dragged in in disgrace by a bounty hunter. 

“My daughter, you’re safe!” My father exclaimed, throwing his arms up in praise. There was no kindness or love in his voice. “Get her inside, we can’t have her escape again,” He gave a cold laugh as I was given to a new set of guards. My brothers jeered and laughed in unison with their idol. “I understand you’ve been paid by Asker to do this?” My father addressed the Mandalorian now. “Fucking idiot couldn’t catch his own breath. Here,” He threw a large bag of credits at the bounty hunter. “A million in full.” The Mandalorian nodded, putting the bag into his belt. “You don’t know how great a service you have provided to the galaxy,” My father continued with a wicked smile stretched across his wrinkling face. “A girl like her will surely be the mother of our new empire,” 

I nearly threw up, the enormity of my situation now crashing on top of me. I tried to look to the Mandalorian for help but again it was no use. I was marched off into my new, secure, chambers to await my fate. 

-- 

The Mandalorian frowned beneath his helmet but said nothing whilst in the presence of the King. He’d finished the job, there was nothing else for him to do here. He’d never got involved in politics before and now was not the time. He knew these were not good people but he was not in a place for judgement either. 

He returned to his ship, pleased with the doubling of the earnings from this trip. That amount of credits meant he could lay low for a long while with the Child and finally work out what to do with it. 

Back in the ship, the Child would not settle down. In the few months the Mandalorian had the creature he had never seen it like this. It cried and grumbled, wouldn’t sit still or fall asleep. He knew what the problem was. 

“I can’t do anything about it!” He explained to the Child. “It’s not my problem. The credits I got from that job will keep you in food for weeks!” The Child grumbled and wailed. “Go to sleep,” 

-- 4 Months Later -- 

It was a simple quarry for a quick bit of cash. The ship needed to be patched up after it had run into an asteroid field. The quarry was from a jealous man on Corellia after his wife’s lover. Easy. 

The planet was rich and bustling with people, making the Mandalorian disappear into the background. He swept through the city in search of his bounty, following the tracker in his hand. He was only slowed down by a large crowd which had gathered at the town’s centre. A small stage was set up across the square, with many people surrounding it on all sides. People even hung out of their windows to listen and watch what was going on. 

A familiar face on the stage caught the Mandalorian’s attention. It was Y/n. Now looking like the shell of her previous self. A black cloth covered her head and moth, leaving only sunken sad eyes on show which were covered in gold makeup. She stood smaller, next to a man talking passionately and animatedly about something. The surrounding chatter from the town’s people drowned out what the man was saying.

The Mandalorian carried on on his mission, shaking off any guilt he had. Bad things like this were always happening throughout the galaxy. There was nothing he could do. 

- --

My new life as Vinca Dara’s wife was awful. Far worse than I had ever dreamt. 

I was dragged from planet to planet, city to city trying to recruit and inspire rebellion. We travelled to the furthest reaches of the galaxy, as far from the New Republic as possible to try and gain sympathy for a new regime. 

I was miserable, abused and exhausted. My husband’s forcible attempts at producing an heir were proving futile and he was getting restless. It was like my body even rejected the idea of giving him a child. I figured it was only long before he killed me. He’d been close before when I lost the last child. 

This was a big event. There were already a large group of rebellion supporters on the planet and Vinca Dara and his team were hopeful. I was to stand next to him, looking pretty while he addressed the city, then be his arm candy to a private event with the planet’s leaders. 

The evening’s event was filled with the planet’s most horrible people. I wore a tight royal blue dress, my hair down and flowing over my bare back. Vinca Dara had left me to my own devices a little while ago, instructing me to convince some of the ladies of ‘our’ new ideas for the galaxy. So I stood and mingled with the guests wive. They were not interested in politics and rather talked back local gossip which was rather refreshing after months of nothing but plans of death, destruction of the New Republic. A little alarming that they did not care, but I welcomed the break nonetheless.

As I listened to the women, my eyes wandered around the party. Many different species and races all in one room with staff waiting hand and foot, scurrying between the clusters of people. Then, something caught my eye. A flash of blue baskar, glinted in the light from the corridor just outside the room. That had to be the Mandalorian! I thought I had seen him in the city but I thought I was imagining it. He was here! 

“Excuse me ladies, I just need to freshen up,” I excused myself from the group and went to find him. This was my chance. Summoning all the courage I had in me, I followed him. 

It took a moment to work out which way he went but a sharp shot from inside one of the servants quarters told me exactly where it was. He was lucky the party was so loud, I thought. 

Checking nobody was following me, I carefully pushed the door open As soon as I entered the small dark room the Mandalorian held his gun to my face, finger on the trigger ready. I threw up my hands and pushed myself back against the door. 

“Don’t shoot!” I exclaimed. The Mandalorian did not lower his gun. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“I-I’m hosting the par-,” 

“Here, I mean here right now,” He interrupted, obviously agitated. 

“I need your help,” I said honestly. The Mandalorian didn’t reply, but lowered his gun and returned to the dead body on the floor. “Please. My husband will kill me if he doesn’t get a child soon and… and I can’t do it. Please, I need to get off this planet. Away from him,” 

“I’m working,” 

“I’ll pay you!” I exclaimed desperately. “I’ll give you everything I have. I just need to get out of here, out of this solar system,” The Mandalorian stopped and looked at me for a moment, the helmet completely unforgiving in guarding his expression. “Please,” My bottom lip began to tremble and tears welled in my eyes. 

“No. Go back to your husband,” The Mandalorian turned back to his task. My desperation turned to anger in that moment, I stormed over to him. 

“You know he’s been looking for the Child,” I said spitefully, looming over him as he knelt down with his victim. The Mandalorian looked up at me and stood up slowly. “That green thing you keep as a pet? If you won’t help meI will go to him and tell him you have it, that you’re on this planet,” 

“Are you trying to blackmail me?” 

“Help me and Dara will never know,” I said slowly, staring directly into his visor. 

The Mandalorian was quiet for a moment, I held my breath. This was it. My last chance at freedom and even this was the man that brought me to be in this situation in the first place he was my only hope. 

“Put that on,” He finally said, gesturing to the pile of servants' clothes piled on a table to the side of the room. “And help me move this body” 

I nodded quickly and moved to the clothes. I untied the neck of the dress, the bounty hunter respectfully turned back to his victim as I undressed. The clothes were far too big and made of a very itchy material but I didn’t have much choice. I tied my hair up in a ponytail. The only reminder of who I was, was the gold makeup across my face and sandals on my feet. 

I stood on look out while the Mandalorian pulled his bounty into a bag and dragged it out the building. A transporter waited outside. 

“Take that one, with the bounty. My ship is out on the east fields. You’ll see it,” 

“What about you?” 

“I’ll meet you there,” 

I nodded, unsure of why he was trusting me with his bounty but it was the easiest way to go out of the city unnoticed. I dodged in and out of people on the streets, finally coming to the East gates. Two guards sat asleep at the post and didn’t even wake to see me go. As I rode out into the open land, I began to laugh. The suns were setting beautifully over the horizon casting beautiful colours into the sky. I was free! 

I sped through the fields, towards the familiar ship a little way away. The noise another transporter hummed behind me. I figured it was the Mandalorian so I didn't bother to look back until a red shot flew past my head, narrowly missing me, and exploding in the grass. I screamed and swerved violently, nearly losing all control of the vehicle. 

I turned back quickly, to see who was attacking me. My husband led a band of four guards on smaller bikes. That bastard Mandalorian must have told them I was trying to escape! 

I sped up, racing towards the hills in the distance. I skipped down between ditches and ploughed through crop fields to try and evade capture once again. They remained on my tail. 

Another two shots fired out, missing me again. “Stop! Y/n! Stop right now!” My husband called out. I held my hand up in an offensive gesture, turning back to narrowly miss a large boulder. I was getting into the forest now, it was becoming more difficult to maneuver the heavy vehicle through the trees. 

The trees became denser and I decided I could move better on foot without the extra weight. 

“I’m going to fucking kill you Y/n!” My husband screamed. I could imagine his horrid sweaty red face, that awful vein that pops on his forehead when he’s angry. I shuddered, and kept running. 

I jumped into a small creek, the water soaking the ends of my trousers and nearly bare feet. The hum of the transporters had disappeared, they were on foot. I noticed a cave and decided it would be best to hide there while they were some way behind. I crouched down and sat in the warm water, my body pressed against the back wall, hidden from sight. 

“Y/n!” Vinca Dara screamed again. This time multiple shots followed and a crash as something fell into the water. “You can’t hide forever!” 

They were getting closer. A red shot splashed into the water in front of the mouth of the cave. I jumped and hit my head on the low roof, making me yelp. I clamped my hand over my mouth praying that I wasn’t heard. I pushed myself further into the dark and shut my eyes as more shots rang out. Shouting erupted from above me and heavy footsteps splashed through the water. 

I whimpered and curled up into my knees, screwing my eyes shut, waiting for the end to come.

“I told you to go to the ship,” A metallic voice said from the front of the cave. I opened my eyes and gasped in relief. It was the Mandalorian! I pushed myself up out of the water and walked over to him, my relief turning into rage. 

“You sold me out!” I screamed, pushing him as hard as I could. “You fucking told them!” The bounty hunter remained calm, and was not at all affected by my attack.. “You fucking bastard!” 

“If I did, why would I be here now?” 

“You-,” I stopped and saw the three bodies floating in the water around us, “You killed them?” 

“I thought you still had my bounty,” The Mandalorian said nonchalantly. I smiled. 

“Thank you,” 

Seemingly satisfied that I wasn’t in any more danger, the Mandalorian turned and began to walk back to his ship. I quickly followed behind, not wanting to be left behind again. I stepped over my husband’s dead body, pleased by the multiple shot wounds that had killed him. He deserved a bloody death. I ran to keep up with the Mandalorian, and jumped back on the abandoned transporter, following him back to the safety of his ship, 

“Thank you again. And I promise I will send those credits to you as soon as possible,” I thanked him again once we were inside. I sat on a crate, and pulled the ruined sandals off my feet.

“It’s not necessary,” The Mandalorian said, his back turned to me as he put away his weapons. 

“Yes it is. I am a woman of my word, I owe you my life,” I said sincerely. The Mandalorian shut the cabinet and turned back to me. 

“Where would you like to go?” 

“I don’t care. Just drop me off wherever you are going next. As long as there's opportunity for work and a place to sleep I will be fine. I just need to be as far from all of that as possible,”

“I’m going to Nevarro next,” 

“Sounds perfect,” 

I sat in the back of the cockpit while the Mandalorian flew off the planet. I couldn’t help the smile that grew on my face as the planet soon disappeared into the vast black of space behind us. I had finally made it out, with both my father and husband dead I knew no one would come looking for me. I was truly free. 

“Hello again,” I cooed to the Child as he toddled over. The baby babbled and giggled when it recognised me and raised its arms to be picked up. I happily obliged. “You’ve grown! Yes! Oh aren’t you just the cutest little thing!” I tickled its large ears, making the child laugh. “I don’t know how you get anything done with this thing around. He’s so cute!” I said to the Mandalorian. He didn’t reply. 

I shrugged it off, and went back to playing with the baby. The stress of the day finally settled in, and I yawned, absolutely exhausted. The little creature in my lap, copied and babbled at me. I smiled softly as sleep began to take over me and stroked its little head until I fell asleep. 

A rumble awoke me, we had entered the Nevarro atmosphere. I sat up from my slumped position and sighed as I stretched. The Mandalorian turned around, I smiled and he turned back. The Child was sitting on the desk, playing with a silver ball too busy to notice I was now awake. 

We landed without any trouble. 

“So I guess this is it,” I said. “I will forever be indebted to you Mandalorian,” I bowed my head in reverence, “Are you staying here very long?” 

“A few days possibly,” He said as we walked towards the small settlement. “I’ve got some business here,” We walked in silence for the rest of the way until we reached the gates. “There’s a cantina not too far from here, tell them I sent you and they’ll give you work. There’s plenty of rooms to stay in here,” 

“Thank you,” I smiled, “I will sort those credits out as soon as possible,”

“It-,” 

“I swear bounty hunters don’t usually refuse money,” I laughed. “Take it, and I’ll see you around, hopefully not too soon,” 

“See you around,” 

We shook hands and parted ways. My life had finally begun. 

[miss-tc-nova]

A Real Winter - Scala Kids

Merry Christmas Eve from Nova! Or Happy Holidays if you don’t celebrate Christmas. 

This is my alternative work for the Hearts for the Holidays zine. I liked the other more in terms of it’s spirit and emotion, but I still liked this one enough to complete and share with all of you. Enjoy Xehanort’s first real winter. 

Inspiration: Yeah, this

~~~~~

              “You better watch out! You better watch out! You better WATCH OUT!”

              Those two blockheads have been singing the same thing for five minutes now, ever since Eraqus forgot the next line and repeated the one before. Then that smarmy Fluffcoat—Bragi—joined in and they’ve just been ominously singing the same line over and over.

              Other than the threat-chanting morons, today has been a new experience for Xehanort. Having spent his entire life on a pair of tiny, tropical islands, he’s never actually seen real snow before. Spring was in full swing in Scala Ad Caelum when he arrived and it only shifted into an even hotter summer. Granted, autumn was pretty and another first for him but, hands down, this winter wonderland is one of the most beautiful scenes he’s ever seen.

              In the first snowfall of the season, the new key bearer was out in the middle of it, awing at the sky until Vor and Hermod ushered him back inside. The down pour over the next few days kept them all holed up indoors—that and Xe caught a cold. Now that the weather has had time to dump a bounty of snow across the city and all the students are healthy, they’re out to sightsee and show the newcomer what a real winter is.

              And what a sight to see. Scala itself is normally a bright place with white buildings and shining adornments, but blankets of snow make everything nearly pure white and it’s almost enough to burn retinas. Still, when it isn’t blinding innocent civilians, Xehanort distinctly thinks of diamonds when looking at the glittering powder. It sparkles and glimmers and even the crystal ocean of his home world can’t compare to the sight. His friends can barely convince him to stick with the group—they want to meander while he’s raring to race through the streets and see it all as soon as possible. He has to admit, though, a slower pace does give him a chance to really appreciate the true beauty that the weather has presented them.

              They finally reach the park where a seemingly endless expanse of untouched snow dazzles the silver eyes. Powerful is the desire to disturb the perfect scene yet at the same time, he wants to just take this moment to take it in. That’s ruined when there’s a pull on his jacket.

              Xehanort peers over his new scarf at his shortest classmate. With another tug, she says, “Let’s build a snowman!”

              With no idea how to do that, he gives the others one last glance before being dragged off the path to ruin that perfect blanket. Vor excitedly scoops up a pile of snow while explaining to Xehanort how to build a snowman. It’s pretty straightforward: roll snow up in a ball and stack three of those on top of each other. Not about to ruin her fun, he copies his friend’s action and starts rolling a handful of frost.

              Before long, Xehanort has a decent mass of powder packed together when Urd calls him over; a much larger orb sits between the girls.

              “Put it right here,” Vor instructs, patting the top of the base. They reinforce the seam with extra powder as Eraqus brings over another orb, heaving it on top.

              “Lookin’ good,” he hums.

              Vor dusts her hands. “Now he needs a face.”

              Before a confused Xehanort can ask, Bragi announces, “Way ahead of you.” He and Hermod have been collecting sticks and stones for their creation.

              The islander watches the Scala natives poke rocks into the thing to emulate buttons, eyes, and a smile that looks rather drunken. This tipsy appearance is further created by the crooked arms that mimic an inebriated jig. The whole group looks rather proud of this morally questionable mound of snow.

              The blond tilts her head. “Hmm, he’s still missing something.”

              Hermod tugs at his scarf. “Here.”

              “Perfect!” Her smile turns to concern. “Are you sure?”

              “Yeah. I wanted to get a new one anyway. That one has a hole in it.”

              As the girl tries to tie the scarf around the taller counterfeit being, Xehanort’s still not sure about this whole snowman thing.

              “If he’s made of snow, why does he need a scarf?”

              Vor beams. “It just makes him look cute. Isn’t that right, Shawn?”

              “Shawn…the Snowman?” Urd questions.

              “Yes!”

              “Well okay then.”

              Hermod chuckles. “Sounds like a good name to me.”

              Firstly, there’s really no reason to argue with Vor about such a trivial thing and, second, none of the others were likely to come up with anything better to call him. However, surely there’s someone who’d have some quip about “Shawn,” but he’s mysteriously vanished.

              “Hey, where’s Bragi?” Vor asks.

              Xehanort glances around. “Eraqus is missing too.”

              As the four fall silent, a rhythmic humming can be heard.

              “You better watch out! You better watch out!”

              Across the path is a low hurdle of snow. In time with their ridiculous chanting, the troublemakers pop up from behind the wall to add to its bulk. All the while, their mantra slowly morphs into shouting.

              “YOU BETTER WATCH OUT! YOU BETTER WATCH OUT! YOU BETTER WATCH—”

              Hermod heaves a sigh. “What are those two—”

              THWAK!

              Down goes the model student in an explosion of powder. Xehanort immediately ducks, now fully aware that those rabble-rousers have started an assault.

              “Run! Run!” Vor shrieks, fleeing for the first defense she can get at: behind a tree.

              Xehanort slinks away behind good ol’ Shawn for cover, just missing a projectile aimed for his head. He watches as the ambushers prep more ammo and their first victim drags himself into the shelter of Shawn with him.

              “What the heck is going on?”

              “They started a snowball fight,” Hermod grumbles, wiping a sleeve across his face. “Basically we just throw chunks of snow at each other. But at least it’s two against four.”

              Xehanort distinctly notes the head of silver hair ducking down behind the barricade with the hoodlums. “I think Urd just defected.”

              “Oh no…”

              “FIIIIIIRRRRRE!”

              Both boys look back to see little Vor with a mound of scooped snow and hurling them across the path like a machine. Her barrage alone is enough to cause the rebels to cower and earn gaping mouths.

              The two exchange glances and Hermod tells him, “You make ammo and I’ll make the wall.”

              Xehanort agrees with a nod and begins packing snow into throwable clumps while Hermod shoves more around Shawn to extend his protection.

              Even odds take over the battlefield as the underdogs gain some ground: Guardian Shawn’s wall has been built and Vor uses her secret talent of snowball flinging while Hermod and Xehanort provide back up and ammo. More importantly, Xehanort is having a blast. Behind the dramatic “fatalities” and battle cries, every one of the kids is laughing and giving the game their best.

              There was no telling what this new season would bring the boy who only knew humid summer all year round, but based on the beauty alone, winter quickly became his favorite. However, now that he’s out enjoying what the weather has to offer—now that he’s making memories with newfound friends—the snowy season will forever be his favorite time of year.

              A shot of freezing cold splatters against Xehanort’s ear. He launches his retaliation across the expanse, knocking Eraqus back behind shelter. Vor follows up with a volley of her own.

              “SURRENDER!” she demands.

              “NEVER!” the blockhead boys shout back.

              Her orders turn on her teammates. “Gimme another!”

              “We’re running out of useable snow,” Hermod says, plopping an orb with stray bits of dead grass in her hand. “Unless someone wants to run out there and risk getting pelted.”

              “Unless we use Shawn,” Xehanort tacks on.

              He’s never encountered such a wrathful look of offense, but Vor is deeply disturbed by the suggestion. “Don’t you dare touch Shawn!”

              “He’s too tightly packed anyway,” Hermod informs them. “We might have to surrender.” It’s his turn to face the offended expressions of his classmates: Vor is too invested in this battle and Xehanort never admits defeat.

              “No,” the girl states flatly. “This is what we’re gonna do.”

              She gives the boys her do-or-die plan. Hermod is a little reluctant, but has never been one to let his classmates down; Xehanort, on the other hand, is already on board, risking attack by reaching for good, fresh snow beyond Shawn’s wall. With a stockpile for little Vor to support the longer-legged boys, the trio makes their move.

              The second the opposition all ducks behind shelter, Hermod and Xehanort dart in opposite directions. Urd pops up, only to be forced back under cover by Vor’s onslaught.

              “They’re coming!” she alerts the other two.

              Bragi and Eraqus attempt to halt the pincer maneuver, but the sharpshooter keeps them in check. With Vor watching their backs, the boys are able to slip around enemy lines. The victims put their backs to the wall, successfully cornered, and the petite blond scurries over to reinforce that advantage. Snowballs are held up in warning.  

              “Give up!” Xehanort shouts.

              “No!” Bragi snaps, resulting in a snowball exploding in his face, curtesy of Vor.

              Eraqus is not as eager for his punishment, attempting to hide behind Urd. “Alright! We give! We give!”

              Hermod drops his arm, but Vor throws hers in the air. “Whoo! We win!”

              Chuckling, Xehanort tosses his last snowball off to the side. “Looks like I win again, Fleetfoot,” he says as he extends a hand to his rival.

              Despite having lost, Eraqus gives him a grin and takes the offer. “Yeah right. Vor handed you that one. You and Hermod would’ve been toast without her.”

              One teammate does not disagree while the other is quite proud of herself. Xehanort, on the other hand, is a bit miffed. “Please. One on one and I’d have you cowering in under a minute.”

              “Are you kidding? You’ve got a red mark on your face from where I got you.”

              “One lucky shot doesn’t win a war,” Xehanort retorts.

              “Why don’t you two continue this on the way back to the castle?” Hermod suggests, his hands shivering against their shoulders. The herd has been out long enough that everyone seems to be stifling shudders.

              So the pack treks back to the citadel, taking refuge from the frosty weather in the student dorms. Damp layers are discarded for dry before everyone meets back in the commons. Hermod and Vor are kind enough make the hot chocolate while Xehanort and Urd get the fireplace going. As the sun begins to set, everyone sits in a happy comfort, chatting among themselves and enjoying the warm fire.

              As he sits, Xehanort’s eyes travel to each of these kids he’s only spent a handful of months with. Being aloof and distant had been his specialty from the beginning—not everyone on his home world liked him and those assumptions transferred with him to this world—but not one of these people seemed to acknowledge that. He brushed off attempts to be friendly and even picked fights with Eraqus, but they remained welcoming and friendly; they did not meet his expectations of people which was something he didn’t know he wanted until this very moment. They spent all this time with him, breaking down those beliefs of his and creating friendships with him. Everything about Scala Ad Caelum flipped all he knew and this snow—his first real winter spent with actual friends—has cemented the idea that he has a bright future ahead of him.

              “So what do you think of winter so far?” Pulling Xehanort from his ponderings is an elbow from Eraqus: the one who’s destroyed the most expectations.

              A smile pulls at his lips. “It’s better than I thought it would be.”

              All of it is.

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 12: Family Dynamics

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

Safe on their home island of Eremita, the hermits need to practice, grow their magic stronger. A day in the life of the illegal guild of hermits includes food- practice- more food- practice- contemplating of life.

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

The Order returned to their island, healed by the remaining Asklepions and left with more questions than answers. They know almost nothing more about dark magic, despite fighting it twice now. When they thought husks only appeared around crystals, Danes proved they can move. When they believed they understood why a husk appeared, the monsters just tore apart their theories. 

One thing they did learn from the two experiences is they need more training. More experience, especially against dark magic. The hermits were strong, but the forces of darkness were stronger. But before any of them can take on each other, they first need to take on breakfast.

Which is a challenge in itself. Half of the hermits want to jump right into training, ignoring the guild hall and insistence of TFC. The other half are easily enticed by the scent of food. 

Grian is practically vibrating in his seat, to the point that Iskall has to reach out and press his hand on the blond hair to keep him seated. “Who thought it was a good idea to give him syrup?” 

“It’s not the breakfast, I can’t wait to get back to sparring!” Grian grins, turning to Mumbo. “You ready for another round of quickdraws?” 

Mumbo groans, head falling back and mouth falling open. “Gri, you know I can’t quickdraw my magic circle.” 

“Like, at all, dude.” Iskall hums, picking the skin off an orange. 

“That’s how you’ll get better! Learn by doing!” Grian points out. He knows that Mumbo struggles with his magic- it’s a lot of magic to handle, being a multi-mage. But he’s seen Mumbo’s strength, he sees the potential in his best friend. And only someone as equally powerful as him, like Grian, can take on that power. Once it shows itself. 

Stress walks by, rolling up her sleeves and brushing the rat’s nest from her hair. She sits down next to False, squeaking as the sharp slice of rock against metal cuts into the air. Stress realizes the shining alloy isn’t a plate. “False, haven’t we said before- no weapons on the tables?” 

“It’s no used weapons. This is brand new, just finished forging it last night.” She picks the chakram by the handle in the center, tossing the disk blade across the table to Wels. “Why don’t you give it a try today?” 

Wels laughs, giving the weapon a slice and a spin. “Let’s see Etho dodge this.” 

Etho, hearing his own name, abruptly stands up from his seat and scurries into the nearest shadow, a strip of bacon shoved into his mouth as he pulls up his mask. Doc and BDubs only laugh, divvying up the remains of Etho’s breakfast. 

Under the quiet seats under the massive oak, as old as the island itself, Keralis and Xisuma are studying. Keralis stopped by his family’s bookstore on the mainland, sifting through ancient tomes in hopes of finding something about dark magic. 

“Ugh, why does no one write about dark magic, sheshwammy?” Keralis growls, his thick south Lairyon accent struggling to say Xisuma’s central name. 

“Probably because it’s illegal to practice it, so no one knows anything about it.” Xisuma sets down another book, picking up the egg sandwich he made and taking a frustrated bite. “Though someone obviously does. But we need proof that this is dark magic, written proof.” He knows they can’t stop it themselves- that’s the arcane guard’s job. But after seeing all of Gildara abandoned, and most of the Asklepions killed, the least he can do is this. 

“You really think the pen is mightier than the sword?” False questions, raising an eyebrow. She presses her knife into the sausage patty on her plate, daring Joe to answer.

“I mean, when my pen can make a giant magic sword with fire and lightning, yeah.” Joe grins, pressing his chin to his open palm. A dangerous glint appears behind his glasses, and he uses the other hand to push them up. Sun reflects off the spectacles, making it impossible for False to see anything beyond the smirk and the light- infuriating her. 

“Cleo,” False grabs the pirate by her long coat and dragging her into the conversation. Without the paladin here to back her up, she needed someone else with a way with words. “You get what I’m saying. Tell me your blade there wouldn’t completely destroy Joe in a fight. I mean, all I’d have to do is cut up that journal of yours and your magic is useless!” 

“Well, Joe does have a point. Sure, your forged weapons are the best in the kingdom, and Joe is screwed if he ever has to face you without his magic.” Cleo pauses, watching the two. “But I’m inclined to believe that words should come before violence- which is why anytime Mr. Joe of the Hills here refuses to finish his breakfast, I remind him with my words that I’m going to break his knees before i actually do.” Cleo pulls out her sword, setting the tip on the wood table. 

Joe shoves the last of his pancakes into his mouth, quick to retreat from Cleo. He was asking for trouble with False, but he knows any of the women could easily kick his ass. Even as an S-Class. “Hey False, why don’t we take this debate to the training field, see how mighty the sword is to the pen?” 

“You can’t escape me forever, Joe!” Cleo calls, watching as the two S-Class mages run down the hill and onto the latter half of the island. Their home island, Eremita, was separated into two parts. The southern side of the island lays claim to where the hermits live. An odd mix of towers and forges, ships and caves. It was up to the hermits to chose their own style of household- which created some disunion of the overall complex, but allowed for each member to express themselves. Everyone helped, whether Scar packed stone bricks or False forged iron nails. 

The other half of the island, however, was left mostly untouched. A large field of grass, combed by the salty sea air, dotted with targets and barriers. A dirt circle cuts into the field, where hermits can duel one on one. Beyond the field, a large pond expands like an eye to the face of the island. Caressing the other shore, a dense forest grows on a slow rise of a hill, before stopping at the edge of the cove of a broad, sandy beach. It was a perfect home, a perfect place for an illegal guild to lay claim. 

Training grounds quickly filled with groups and teams, even TFC getting in on strengthening himself. He wasn’t going to let some little rock keep him down for long. “Hey Cub, lets show these guys a thing or two about magic.” 

The two silver haired, bearded men join the others well settled into today’s training. Deep in the forest, a soft explosion can be heard, followed by the giddy laughter as Zedaph leaps from tree to tree. Tango and Impulse struggle to follow him, and the birds diving for their heads don’t help. At the interface between trees and grass, Doc and Jevin have teamed up to amass an army. Objects under the devious control of Doc’s puppeteering magic, violent and unshaken to mimic the husks they fought. Jevin’s slime soldiers add bodies to the battle, flanking Iskall, Ren, and Xisuma. Hiding behind a barrier, Etho is waiting for the sun to reappear and for shadows to return, ducking his head as the chakram whizzes past. Despite his terrifying predicament, he has a coy smile on his face. 

In the field, BDubs is practicing his aim with Scar, shredding apart haybales with their unique magic. Plants grow from one, thorns dug deep into the tightly bound material. The other has been knocked over and crushed by a boulder, Scar cheering his success. And in the center of the dueling ring, Mumbo and Grian stand still as stone. The quietest Grian ever has been. In a flash, as simple as a shift in the wind’s direction, Mumbo rushes to summon his circle. A second later, he’s blown off his feet, Grian grinning with blue embers fading away from his fingers. Mumbo groans, rubbing the dirt stained fabric on his rear. “You couldn’t have given me a few seconds? It’s not like I’d ever win.” 

Grian offers an easy smile, waving Mumbo closer. “Come on, let’s practice the basics again. I know you can do it, friend.” 

The hermits continue into the afternoon, only stopping their training briefly for lunch under the cool relief of the oaken guild hall. Groups disband and reform, training and practicing and learning from each other. Trying to be better, stronger together. So that next time they come face to face with an enemy, or the dark magic, they can win. They will win. 

No guild is quite like the Order of Hermits. Apart from being illegal, they’re a mix of just about every kind of magic. A healing mage like Grian can stand side by side with Cleo’s underworld magic, no set skill required on requested. Varying strengths train side by side, not separated from better or worse. They all have something to learn from each other, even the strongest S-Class can be surprised by the newest mage. And often, Grian is. The magic is just as diverse as the people, the hermits that call Eremita home. 

Training is cut short by a squall, appearing like magic and blowing across the Ashioll sea. Broiling grey clouds engulf the sun, and quickly send the hermits scattering into shelter. Well, most of them. The ZIT trio remained wrestling in the mud, and BDubs couldn’t help but join in. 

Wels returns the chakram to False, a number of other hermits huddled around the blasting heat of False’s outdoor forge, nestled under the stone roof. Stress jumps back as an ember sparks out, nearly catching the trim of her robes. She rubs her exposed arms, the warm material of her fur coat wrapped around her waist. So much for the hot summer day. 

Joe and Cleo have made up, and are plucking books from his library to read as the rain pours down, laughing as they watch Ren skitter away to his home, ears and tail tucked. 

Xisuma sits at a window, looking out across the clouded green sea from his tower. He chose the Ashioll sea for a reason to make this his home. To start a guild here. No one else dared called these waters home. Old magic, magic so wild and arcane that not even the kiplings can control, residing here in these waters. Merchant vessels and battleships avoid the sea, and even the hermits don’t have every island mapped out. Though Grian and Xisuma are working on it. The sea was their safe haven, the island their home. 

Xisuma turns his head, glancing at the white envelope on his desk. The yellow seal bearing a sun remains unbroken. He’s not ready to think about his brother. He knows he could have valuable information, and is likely concerned about him, but he can’t bear to open the letter today. He turns his head back to the storm, watching lightning streak across the sky, smelling the scent of the void left behind by the bolts. He doesn’t need his brother- he has his own family, right here. 

They’ll do this, without Ex.

[artxyra]

In Her Darkest Moments

Note: So this story came from me listening to the song “The Bully” by Sody. If the last part seems kind of lost it because I started this on a whim and took a break to work on other projects (both school-related and personal). There might be more added to this later but I’m not sure yet. Anyways, enjoy.  

Part 1 | 2 | 3

Trigger warning: thoughts of suicide

Anger can manifest in multiple ways, but it’s what you do with that anger that can change the outcome of a single event.

~*~

Marinette may have grown used to the Lila and her classmates’ bullying towards her, but that didn’t mean she was slowly shattering. Every day was a war zone for her. Looking behind her back every second of the day, hoping that she wouldn’t stand out. But this has been going on for two years nearly three now. She can’t take it anymore.

Suicide was the easy way out, and she knows this. It was confronting her bullies and saying goodbye that was the hardest.

Gripping onto her sleeves, she covers the marks of cutting, forcing herself to acknowledge she was okay when she clearly wasn’t. No one knew she was doing this to herself, and she wants to keep it that way. No longer did she wore pink capris with a white blouse and blazer, but now a grey knitted sweater with a pair of skinny jeans and low-heeled wedges. It was a nice change, but she didn’t feel like herself in her own skin.

Walking into her high school, Dupont’s sister school, she ignores the glances coming her way. Making her way to her locker, she quickly grabs the items needed for class and scurries down the halls. Because of the lack of akuma attacks, she’s often on-time to class and gets a decent night of rest when nightmares aren’t plaguing her mind.

Her books fell from her arms. She staggers in her steps.

“Oh my god, Marinette! Why did you purposely drop your books on me?” She dreads the familiar Italian accent female. Lila could only internally smirk at her work because it wasn’t long before Alya made her voice known.

“What the hell, Marinette, that’s the fifth time this week. What is wrong with you?”

A hard jab came to her shoulders. Marinette counts to ten. Her breathing evens just enough for her to gain her bearings. She grabs her books and pushes through the growing crowd of Lila supporters. No one is never on her side anymore.

Taking her seat, she barely acknowledges the disappointed look she was receiving from Adrien. Adrien, oh sweet Adrien, the blonde model manages to convince his father to let him continue with public school under the intention of doing more photo-shoots. They barely have spoken since collége and he unknowingly played into Lila’s greedy hands.

“Good Morning class,” The teacher greets as she walks in. Marinette doesn’t acknowledge today’s lesson as her mind started to doodle in her worn-out notebook.

Lila made sure that everything good in Marinette’s life was a diminished flame. Turning the former bluenette’s parents against her was the tipping point of it all.  She would copy Marinette’s work, turn it in before the latter could get up from her seat. That would then turn into a long meeting with the school’s dean about plagiarism and dishonesty. It was a miracle that Marinette was still able to attend the school with the constant amount of this occurring.

Marinette’s safe place slowly became this Ladybug and Chat Noir theme café. She goes by there every day after school instead of heading home. It’s a great place for her to work on her projects without the fear of being judged, bullied and copied from. The owner, an older woman, grew to love the teen’s company and told her that she was welcome at any time of the day. She’ll forever remember the day that Marinette gave her the most heartfelt real smile instead of the dull, barely reaching her eyes smile. Those were the days that the two of them will cherish forever.

She sighs, pushing the unfinished work of a new design away from her. The owner notices this and looks around. There was no need to take orders; she quickly makes her over to the struggling teen.

“Is everything alright dear?” She asks, placing a comforting hand on Marinette’s shoulder.

A gentle gesture was all it took for her to breakdown. Tears stream down her face, red watery eyes glance up to the older woman breaking the owner’s heart. She hates seeing Marinette like this. Pulling the young woman into a comforting hug, Marinette cries into her chest.

“Shh, everything will be alright one day.” The owner repeats into the teen’s ear, rubbing on her back.

When Marinette couldn’t cry her eyes out anymore, she lifts herself up from the older woman’s lap to look around. The sky has darkened and there was no one in the café beside the two of them.

“I’m so sorry.” She immediately apologizes.

“Nonsense, Marinette. You clearly needed to let it all out.”

Marinette couldn’t help but look down in shame. She doesn’t deserve any of this comfort. To her, a mental breakdown went weakness and weakness is something that has been affecting her in all aspects of her life.

“I should get home.” Marinette murmurs holding herself.

As much as the owner didn’t want the teen to leave, she knew she couldn’t stop Marinette from leaving. Sighing, she hands Marinette her bags and wishes her goodbye.

Dread fills Marinette as she returns home, but something stops her from entering. Perhaps it was because of her parents and their lack of trust for her. Maybe it was the cool protective breeze of the night’s air. Biting her bottom lip, she pushes against the door and quickly makes a be-line to her bedroom.

Her room lacks its usual luster. Over the years, she slowly became dissociated from her room leaving it frozen in her middle school personality with only pops of colors representing her now.

Not wanting to go to sleep, she finds herself on the balcony watching the stars.

“You could have asked me if you wanted to stargaze tonight.”  Her frown deepens hearing one of many voices she doesn’t want to hear.

“Go away, Chat.” She demands; caring less that it will hurt his feelings, but she knows him well enough that the word “no” isn’t in his vocabulary.

“Meow-ch, Princess—” He begins but Marinette turns to him with a glare on her face.

“Don’t call me, princess. I hate it.” She states getting up from her position. Chat Noir touches her shoulder only for her to push him away.

“No, you don’t.” He tries to counter, giving her his cat-like smirk, “Your heart wouldn’t have fluttered if you didn’t.”

Marinette scrunches her face. A single tear slides down her cheek. Chat, being the heroic knight he is, pulls her in for a hug, she tries to break free but due to her fatigue, she couldn’t. Instead, she wiggles in his arms.

“Let go of me.” She demands.

“You’re kidding me?” Chat slightly pushes her away, only to take in Marinette. Her body’s shaking, her arms hugs her torso, and tears ran down her face.

“Goodbye, Chat Noir.” Marinette rush towards the trapdoor and enters it.

She wants it all to end. To be fear from the nightmare that is her life. Collapsing onto the floor, the waterworks began. Tikki finally making her presences known and cuddles next her chosen knowing it was only time before Marinette gives up.

Marinette barely found the energy to wake up the next morning.

“Marinette, breakfast is ready!” She heard her mother’s voice carry out from the lower floor.

Trudging down from her bedroom and into the kitchen, Marinette sits down and stares silently at the plate of food in front of her. This felt odd. It’s been months since her mother made breakfast for the family. Her excuse has been that the store needs more attention and earlier opening time. When was the last she saw her mother’s bright smile and not the disappointed look? Marinette couldn’t remember for the life of her.

“Um…merci, maman.” Marinette murmurs taking a small bite.

Sabine either ignored the appreciation or she didn’t hear it, causing Marinette to feel even more out of place. It was after her tenth bite, that Marinette gave up on breakfast and walk out of the room. Looking at her phone, she realizes that class was going to start soon. Opting to ditch today, Marinette changes into a simple tee and a pair of denim shorts. Maybe today will be a better a day than the rest.

~*~

Marinette was enjoying her day away from school, but that all ends when a notification came through on her phone. It was the contents in that notification that made her want to hide, to throw up, and never show her face again. How could someone be so cruel to photoshop a photo of her doing explicit poses and send it to everyone in her class? How did they even get her new phone number?

The comments surrounding the post was a mixture of good and bad. Some, those who know her, wrote that it was clearly photoshopped, critiquing the image while others were expressing their shock and disappointment in Marinette for taking such photos.  

Everything’s ruined. Her reputation (that was already on the rocks), her dreams, her life.

Locking herself in the nearest bathroom, that she could find, she collapses to the floor. Breathing became a challenge, her mind making thousands of scenarios, causing her to spin around confused and dazed. Reality began to shift into nothing. Grasping for air, she uses the sink to balance her, but no strength came to her aid.

“Marinette!” Tikki worries for chosen. She felt useless. Useless that to help her chosen, she must reveal the three-year secret that they’ve kept hidden. “I will get help. Please stay strong.” Tikki cries out, flying out the bathroom in search for help.

Marinette didn’t know how long she stayed in a fetal position on the floor. Minutes, maybe even hours there. Because the next thing she knew was the loud banging on the bathroom door. Someone’s calling out her name from the other side. The loud sound made her want to curl, even more, anything to get away from the torture that’s she experiencing.

“Marinette,” The voice calls out more clearly.

Arms surround her fragile body. They pull her in closer to their chest. She clings to the person’s shirt as it was the only tangible object that was grounding her to reality.

“I got you. You’re safe, Nette. Come back to me.” The voice whispers into her ear.

Her breathing evens.

The voice continues to repeat the same phrase as it was bringing her back to reality and calming her down. Her grip lessens on their shirt.

“That’s it, Nette. Come back to me.” He murmurs.

“Is she alright?” Another voice asks. It was feminine, something that allowed Marinette to feel safe and loved. Another pair of hands wrap around her body.

Darkness begins to fade away allowing the bright colors of images to flood her senses. Blinking, Marinette looks around and sees Kagami and Luka holding onto her. Her eyes make their way to the door where Felix stood with concern in eyes stoic eyes.

“W-w-what happened? H-h-how did I get here?” She stutters clenching onto Luka’s shirt even more.

“You’re okay, now, Nette. If it wasn’t for Tikki, we probably wouldn’t have known to be here.” Kagami says rubbing the small teen’s blue hair. Marinette welcomes it and cuddles closer to the woman.

“It was Rossi that caused this mess. I’m sure we can charge Rossi with slander and defamation.” Felix voices his opinion.

“Let’s ignore, Rossi, for a moment and focus on Nette. From what Tikki told me, this kind of behavior is becoming a regular occurrence. Which would explain why she doesn’t come to school from what Agreste been explaining.” Kagami declares with a heavy sigh.

“Should we call Bourgeois and ask for her input?” Felix suggests as his body dance subconsciously with the idea of going into the bathroom.

“No, not yet. Right now, we need to focus on bettering Nette.” Luka speaks with authority.

Felix and Kagami agrees and turns back to their now sleeping friend.

~*~

A week has passed since Marinette’s breakdown. Kagami refuses to let the bluenette be alone, so she offered her place. Marinette at first refused, but after a long talk with Felix, Kagami, Luka, and their kwamis, it was decided that she would stay.

As the days went by, the three friends to could a change in their beloved bluenette. She’s eating more and getting a good amount of sleep. Granted, there were akuma attacks during some of those days and if it wasn’t an akuma, it was Lila’s lying her way out of any situation.

Heal is always the hard part; as much as Marinette wanted to move on from this, she knows that it will only stop when Lila’s luck runs out.

Sitting down at the Ladybug and Chat Noir theme café, Marinette silently sips her coffee. The owner makes her way over to the teen and offers her another round. Marinette declines and apologizes for all the pain and concern she caused the older woman. To which the owner denies and told her that she reminds her of her own granddaughter that was bullied when her daughter and husband were living in Italy.

“I’m so sorry, what happened to your granddaughter?” Marinette asks, secreting cringing at such a question.

The owner answers with a sad sigh, “She nearly killed herself, if it wasn’t for the pets, she wouldn’t be here. Today, she’s following her dream by attending a private school across sees. You two would have gotten along very well if she was here.”

Marinette smiles, “I’m glad that she’s alright.” She replies, but the lingering thought of death managed to sneak up into her mind.  Perhaps, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my friends. Shaking her head, she focuses on her coffee.

“If you need to talk, I’m always here.” The owner quickly gestures to the café before returning to the counter to take the orders of new customers.

Marinette finishes her coffee and exits the café.

“So, this is where you sneak off to.” Felix notes with Luka and Kagami behind him.

“What are you guys doing here?” Marinette asks, hugging the blonde before the two dark hairs.

“Well classes got out early and we wanted to spend the rest of the day with you,” Kagami answers pushing a strand of hair behind Marinette’s ear.

Marinette rolls her eyes, “Well the day is still bright and I’m feeling rather famished.”

The small group of friends laughs at the grumbling sound of Marinette’s stomach.

All it takes is for one grand action to make someone feel loved in their darkest moments.  

Part 2

[castielscarma]

Thunderstorm

Part 7 of the #SpnStayAtHome Challenge  (6.3k) @bend-me-shape-me @helianthus21 @pray4jensen Dean Winchester wakes up to blinding light piercing his eyes and turns his back on the window and the sunlight engulfing his room. He doesn't need to feel the side next to him being empty to know that Michael is gone. He probably sneaked away straight after Dean had dozed off, sated after the mind-blowing sex. Dean sighs and gets up slowly. Sated but not satisfied. If that wasn't the story of his life. He stumbles to the bathroom to relieve himself and almost slips on Michael's boxer. Great. He picks them up and tosses them in the trash. Sure, sex with Michael is freaking amazing, he is a beast in bed but it leaves a sour taste in Dean's mouth. It's a feeling that has been intangible but suddenly – in the early morning hours – and after a few months it seems crystal clear: the acrid taste of being owned (not the hot, sexy kind of owned either). Dean grabs an old worn Zeppelin shirt, pulling it over himself and scuffles out into the kitchen. Popping the fridge open, he grabs a jar of peanut butter and some jam. He pushes some bread in the toaster and makes coffee while waiting for the toast to get the right shade of burned. The scent of coffee permeating the kitchen air does some to wake him up, as does the blend of salt and sweet of the peanut butter and jam sandwich, but it isn't until he gets the black liquid of gods inside himself that he truly comes alive. “Fuck,” he mumbles as the coffee jolts his senses, forcing him to be truly aware since waking up this morning. The headache he sports tells him he was a tad heavy on the drinking, the slight ache further down tells him more than he wants to remember about Michael.

“Who needs him anyway?” Dean mumbles into his coffee.

He looks out the kitchen window. The clouds have scattered, already bending to the might of the sun. It looks like it's going to be a bright and sunny day, a notion that doesn't make Dean any happier. Fuck the sun and sun rays and chirpy tweety birds.

Dean gulps down the last of his coffee and heads out the door to grab the mail. He squints against the sun, the headache flaring up like someone tossed a match to gasoline-soaked rags. Donatello is already up, waving at Dean as he pushes his lawnmower in front of him.

Dean waves and shakes his head slightly in bewilderment. If Donatello keeps mowing the lawn, he'll soon hit the core of the Earth. Thankfully, Donatello is an old fashioned, traditional kind of old man – knitted vests, pipes, and dry crackers – and gets up predawn so hopefully, he'll be finished with the mowing before aggravating Dean's headache further. Maybe some more coffee will help he muses.

Mailbox is empty save the thick newspaper. It could have been worse – bills were never welcome.

As Dean picks up the newspapers he notices that the house next to him is finally occupied. The sold-sign had been up for months and but Dean had not seen a living soul near or on the premises until now.

It seems they came with the truck in the middle of the night. He can see new curtains in the windows, a soft light glowing in a room, and other clues that tell someone is inhabiting the house.

A pot with a tiny little tree sits on the porch, there's some kind of wind-chime moving gently in the slight breeze, and Dean is pretty sure he hears the distinct sound of goats coming from the house.

What the hell? No one seems to notice the bleating. Dean casts a glance at Donatello who seems lost in the magical world of landscaping – that or his allergy meds are keeping him sufficiently in the clouds – and hasn't even commented anything on these four-legged grass chompers intruding.

This has to be against HOA- regulations, Dean thinks. Who the fuck has goats as pets?

Dean can't help but indulge in his curiosity. He grabs the newspaper tightly, and walks to the side, the grass tickling his feet where the slippers don't cover them. Sure enough, at the side of the house, a pen has Harry Pottered itself, complete with two living, breathing goats. One is completely black and the other is all white with two little horns poking up. They both turn as Dean approaches and their bleats stop.

“Hi fellas. You do know that you're in breach of HOA-regulations?” The white goat bleats once and then continues to munch on grass. The black goat on the other hand just stares at Dean. Its eyes are a bit off-putting, a shade of blue that would have looked mesmerizing on a human. On a goat, it seems wrong. “What you looking at? It's not my ass the HOA is gonna haul and turn into kebab.” The black goat keeps it's gaze transfixed on Dean, so much so that it starts to freak Dean out.

He decides to get back inside before his new neighbor goes out to check the commotion.

As Dean rounds the corner, the door to the house opens. Dean has a sudden impulse to hide, and luck as it were, the tree is there. He scurries quickly and stands behind the tree, realizing too late that the spindly branches are not near enough to cover him.

He can't really see the man's face as he pokes up as some branches are in the way, but a halo of black hair and one arched eyebrow is enough for Dean to know he's been spotted. Well, that and that the guy says he can see him.

“I can see you, you know. You must be the Winchester.” His voice is gravelly, and it sends shivers down Dean's spine. Dean hasn't felt like this in forever, excited. It's something that's palpable, a force in the air, the guy's freaking aura, who knows what. Dean just knows that it's there and he needs to see it. Touch it. He steps out from behind the tree.

“Hiya, uh, yeah. I'm the Winchester – Uh, Dean. Your neighbor.” And holy hell and all the devils, is his new neighbor not the hottest thing since crispy bacon? He's almost the same height as Dean, he knows this cause he stares directly into the bluest eyes he's ever seen. His mind goes briefly to the goat's eyes – yeah, they were freakishly blue too – but the goat didn't hypnotize him with his gaze. Just stared at him as if he wanted him six feet under. Judging by the frown the guy is giving him, Dean suspects he feels the same as the goat.

“Hello, Dean. I'm Castiel. I'm well aware that we're neighbors. My house is neighboring yours, it's a given. So why are you near my house, and not yours?”

As Castiel speaks, Dean feels a chill coming on. He looks at the sky briefly, and a weird sense of relief washes over him like he's just escaped something huge and monumental. Grey clouds cover the sun, and while Dean is grateful that the sun is hidden, his headache decides to make itself known right then.

It's like someone swung at him with a hammer. Dean staggers and sways, grabbing the porch railing for purchase. He takes a moment to gather himself, and the neighbor reaches out to steady him, grabbing him by the elbow.

“Thanks.”

“You're welcome. Why are you skulking?” His voice is gravely and sends a shiver down Dean's spine.

“I'm not. I was out to grab my newspaper and I heard a sound. Thought I heard goats. Just checking it out. You're new here but I don't think goats are allowed. HOA are sticklers for us following the no goat rule. It's a no-go.” Dean chuckles slightly but gets nothing in return.

Dean hears a weak rumble in the distance and looks up at the sky again. It seems like a storm is building up. The sky is the color of new asphalt now; the shift from gray to black happening very suddenly.

The new guy just stares at him – kind of like the goat did.

After a beat of silence, he speaks. “HOA only specifies the domesticated animals of dog, cat, rabbit, and horse as being explicitly forbidden.”

“Alright, my bad.” He extends his hand. “I'm Dean.”

The man seems unfazed. “I'm aware.”

Dean stops himself from shaking his head and drops his hand. “Right, and you're...”

His pissed off but very hot neighbor hesitates briefly before answering. “I'm Castiel.”

Dean realizes that he's still standing behind the tree like an idiot. He takes a step forward, rocking on his heels. “So goats, eh?”

A small smile tugs at Castiel's lips. Dean takes that tiny gesture of acceptance. “Yes. Gnasher is the white one and Snarl is the black one. They've been with me for quite some time. I'm fond of them but they can bite your hands off. Don't touch them.”

Gnasher and Snarl? Jesus, who is this guy? Were Ramsey and Butt-Head taken? Dean worries for a second that some kind of psycho has moved into the neighborhood.

He looks at Castiel again but he seems normal enough. Jeans, a black sweater that hugs his body just right, full lips, very full lips that Dean's definitely not thinking of kissing, thick thighs, to have those wrapped around – he needs to rise up his mind from the gutter. Castiel's entire appearance, it all screams normal. Maybe even boring.

Yep, Castiel is definitely boring. “Right, Castiel. Don't worry, no touching. So, which one's the black one?”

Castiel hesitates before answering. “Snarl.” He takes a step back, retreating. “Now stay off my property.”

Dean clicks his tongue and nods. He knows this wasn't the smoothest welcome-to-the- neighborhood-visit but hopefully Castiel didn't think he was a total douche. “Sure. Sorry about – “

Castiel has already closed the door.

Dean sighs and heads over the lawn to his side. He's only taken two steps when the skies rumble. A deep crackle echoes as thunder sweeps over the neighborhood. Rain starts pouring out of nowhere, a strong gush that threatens to not only soak the lawn but flood it.

The newspaper in Dean's hand crumbles under the rain. Donatello has already abandoned his lawnmower. As Dean takes the final step inside and closes his door against the unpredictable weather gods, his newspaper is basically a paper smoothie.

Dean lets out a curse and throws the newspaper away. He grabs an Advil for the headache. It's not as severe as it was a few minutes ago but it's still there, an unwelcoming throb at the center of his forehead.

Forgoing the newspaper, Dean plops down on the couch. It's still morning but the weather is fucking terrible, it's probably gonna rain all day and his hot, totally doable next door neighbor thinks he's a stalking moron. He's earned an entire day in solitude. Besides, it's a Thursday, meaning it's his day off.

Dean puts on Netflix and is wiggling down into the favorite part on the couch when he feels something against the small of his back. He pauses the movie and digs out a pair of black lace panties.

Dean groans as he recognizes them. First Michael with his pump-him-and-dump-him attitude and now he gets a very unwelcome blast from the past. The thin intricate lace panties, probably with silk threads or platinum embroidery – who the fuck knows – belong to his ex-fiancee.

They broke it off almost a year ago – rather he broke it off – so the panties must have been wedged into the sofa during all that time. Dean shudders and drops them on the floor.

Amara had been a piece of work. There was never a dull moment when he'd lived with her. Dean was all for excitement, living on the edge but he was not the one to dive off a fucking cliff Thelma and Louise style. Yet you almost did.

Another crash of thunder startles him from his thoughts, and he's grateful for it, despite his throbbing headache. Everything is better than thinking about that hellcat. The rain patters against the rooftops and Dean decides he's done with thinking about exes and assholes. He presses play and loses himself in the rom-com world. There at least, he's not the only idiot that fails romantically.

And for a while, he can forget about his own sad endings and pretend that he has something, someone in his life that hasn't treated him like shit.

*

“You look like shit.” Charlie's voice is chirpy as she plays with the straw in her milkshake but Dean can see the worry behind her eyes. She's as fierce as the halo of fire kissed hair around her face. “You still working with that douche who refuses to change diapers?”

Dean scoffs. “Yeah but parents have been complaining about her chewing-nails attitude. Abaddon will be gone soon. Crowley is a weirdo but he's protective of his charges and his stature even more. He'll sacrifice her rather than parents losing an ounce of respect towardsLittle Darlings or him.”

“Put her in time-out.” Charlie slurps the last of the milkshake and eyes his.

Dean pushes it over to her. “Here. Glad they're feeding you over there.”

“They do. Wouldn't wanna mess with the cybersecurity expert, but do they bribe me with shakes? Nope.”

Dean grabs a napkin and starts tearing it into small pieces. “We don't put the kids in time-out. Doesn't work that way. And trust me, Abaddon deserves a helluva' lot more than time-out even if we did. She's a redheaded wench of a woman.”

Charlie slaps him on the shoulder. “Hello. Redheaded wench sitting right here.”

Dean grins. “Not you, Charlie, you're far from a wench. More a firecracker of a woman. You're honest, you kick a mean punch – “

“ – and I'll do it again to protect the glory of Moondoor.”

Dean grins at the memory. “Yeah, you did, remind me to never mess with the Queen again.” He clears his throat. “A good right-hand hook and you're smarter than I'll ever be. They'll be lucky to have you, Charlie.”

“Dean, if I didn't know better I'd think you're trying to butter me up. The milkshake is a start. Call me when you grow a pair of boobs and we're game.”

Dean barks out a laugh. “I'll do that.” His smile dies down.

“You can talk to me Dean, you know that.”

Nodding, Dean grabs the mangled pieces of the napkin and pushes them together into a small pile. “Got a new neighbor. Castiel.”

“Oh.” Charlie perks up. “Castiel, how exotic. Is he hot?”

Dean lets out a breath. “Exotic, yeah, you can say that. I mean, Charlie, he looks like he stepped out of a fucking model magazine or whatever. It's just that he thinks I'm a total douche.”

“Why you? How he'd get that idea?” Charlie smiles. “Really good shake by the way.”

“You're welcome, mooch.” But there's no real bite behind his words. “I was kinda um, skulking around his house. Dude's got goats, Charlie.”

Charlie perks up at that. “A hot dude with goats. Dean. He sounds like he's the full package. But you're totally doing it wrong. No skulking, just do it heads on. Offer him a cow. That'll moove him.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “I'm serious. They were goats and I checked it out and now he thinks I'm a total creep. He told me to get off his property.”

Charlie makes a face. “How would you think if he was sneaking around your house looking for... I don't know, geese. You look like you could own geese.”

“Geese. I ain't going near any geese. Those long-necked flying death machines won't touch me. And imagine the poop, they're birds, they crap all over the place.”

“You wouldn't have them inside, you dummy.”

Dean laughs. “Oh, wow, sorry I'm not the goose expert here. I forget, you're the expert on all things bird.”

Charlie winks. “At least the birds on two legs.”

“Damn straight.”

Charlie laughs and extends a hand towards him. “Or not.” She pauses and squeezes his hand. “You're alright, Dean?”

He is tempted to say yes. He is really, the shake was kickass, Charlie is such a good friend – he doesn't deserve her – and he is fine. For now. But then she blinks and does that thing with her eyes. “Hey, don't go all Bambi on me.”

Charlie flutters exaggeratedly with her lashes. “What do you mean?”

Dean shakes his head and sighs. “So, Michael just left. Again. I mean, why am I even surprised? He's done it before and it's not like I'm amazing boyfriend material.”

“Dean. Stop. Don't let that anyone fool you into thinking that you're not an amazing guy, and you would be, you are a freaking amazing boyfriend. These muggles don't deserve the awesome wizardry that is you.”

“Yeah, I'm awesomely messed up. And then I found a piece of Amara's clothing and just – it really hit home you know...”

Charlie leans in. “Dean, listen. Amara was wrong. Any girl or guy would be lucky to have you. That Michael and Amara acted like a bunch of assholes, that's not on you. They were not right about you.”

“I don't know, I – “

“I do know. You're worth fancy dinners with the good kind of steak and Pad thai with chicken, meat, and shrimps. You're that level people grind for hours, weeks, and months to achieve. You're the green mushroom in Super Mario, people level up when they're around you.

Dean feels heat color his cheek, an odd mix of anger and shame coiling in his gut. “Yeah, you're my friend, you're supposed to say crap like that. I'm just – “ He rubs his eyes. “I dunno' guess my old age is catching up to me.”

“Your work is literally being surrounded by kids all day long. I saw you last week climbing a tree!”

Dean chuckles at the memory. “Yeah, I don't know how many times I've told Theo not to climb so high on that goddamn tree. He's already fallen once, but he was fine. Kids are soft as sponges at that age... they soak up stuff like sponges too.” Dean makes a face. He still remembers the call from Mr. Cauthon about his son Mat suddenly picking up new and unwanted vocabulary.

“Anyway, I'm just tired of... people. I just want something normal you know. Netflix and chill with actual chilling. Someone that wants to – I don't know... do couple stuff I guess. Not someone who feels the need to sneak away in the middle of the fucking night.”

Charlie nods in understanding. “How about your new neighbor, Castiel?”

“I doubt he'll want to date a weirdo goat stalker, remember?”

“Yeah, but if you were living in Farmland – Fresh Farmer Adventures, I can assure you, even as a goat stalker people would line up.”

Dean laughs and pulls at Charlie's hair. “Thanks, Charlie.”

“What for?”

“For talking goat and making me forget about my miserable love life.”

“Any time, Dean. There might be another way but it's... unconventional. “ Charlie hesitates to say more which piques his interest.

“I doubt it can get any more unconventional than Amara being all possessive and meeting two goats this morning, where I'm sure one was out to take me down.”

Charlie bites her lip briefly before her eyes shine with excitement. “It's a love spell... of sorts.”

*

Dean glares at the paper and then looks at his phone. Modern way or totally insane, incenses waving witchy way? With a sigh, he slides his phone back into his pocket. He'd already tried Tinder and Grindr (and Bee-Miner, what he thought was a dating app but quickly realized was an app for fans of bees, of all things). He didn't have anything left to lose.

“At least not my dignity, that's far gone,” Dean mutters for himself before pulling the curtains together in his bedroom.

He's been downstairs and collected all the ingredients for the love spell and ordered the more obscure ones online. He organizes them in the order they are to be put in the bowl. Charlie had explained that it wasn't that important, 'just chug them in there and say the words, pretend you're that druid when we LARPed a while back'.

Well, that had been fantasy and this was real life. The only thing he'll chug is beer. Dean checks that he has enough matches and then proceeds with the love spell.

First, he gathers the seven flowers. The spell had just said flowers and that they had to be seven different kinds, so Dean had gone to the nearest flower store and bought just one when he saw the prices. Seven dollars for one rose? Not even the big, fluffy kind, but the one that looked like the sad, long lost rose cousin of the Beast's flower.

Dean had decided that it had been much more affordable to pic the remaining six flowers from nature itself. Donatello's garden has flowers in the back, there is grass, so technically that counts as nature.

He rips them apart and tosses them into a bowl, grinding them to mush with a marble pestle. He rakes his fingers through his hair and finds a spot near his ear. He pinches some hair and pulls. Success! He drops the strands of hair in the bowl too.

Where in the seven hells did Charlie even find this spell? He's read every single line at least four times and tried really hard to see Charlie's handwriting in the slanted scribbles but if it's a fake, it's the most elaborate (and so far only) love spell hoax he's ever seen.

He's thought long and hard about the red item. That was the only specification and he'd even texted Charlie, asking her for clarification. Her response had been 'something red, Dean.'

Dean mutters a curse under his breath as he grabs the chili powder container. If he's gonna set this unholy stew on fire, he had decided that he should pick something that is flammable. He opens the container and shakes out a good generous helping of the chili powder straight into the bowl.

Now for the second to last ingredient. Dean fiddles with the paper in his hands. He's folded it three times but the words are burned into his retinas anyway, etched into his soul. It's words that he's ever uttered in silence to himself before– and that has only happened when he'd felt the most desperate, most in pain... most alone.

He paces back and forth in his bedroom, avoiding the spot near the middle of the room where the floorboard always creaks.

It's just words on paper, but it's Dean's hope and deepest desires. And sure, he's thought about it when he was lost, angry and hurt – both Amara and Michael had been a part of that whole mess – but this time it is just him and hope. He sets his jaw in grim determination, walks over to the bowl, and flicks the paper inside.

Alright, one more step to go. He pushes away the doubts and fears that rear their ugly heads. Instead, he grabs the bowl, and clears his mind, so that 'love will come to him'. He'll deal with the aftermath later. Beers are chilled, there's a pie in the fridge and he has Netflix.

He lights a match and tosses it inside the bowl. He's supposed to be closing his eyes right after but he peels one eye open just to make sure that something is burning. Satisfied when he sees the small flame, he closes his eyes and tries to breathe calmly.

Panic rushes through him, quickly followed by self-loathing and hopelessness. Dean exhales and starts humming AC/DC's Thunderstruck which calms him down. Clap, believe and save Tinkerbell. Dean stops humming and waits.

What feels like years pass as Dean stands in his bedroom, with a small fire burning in a bowl like a failed pyromaniac. Then, he just lets go and empties his mind.

He doesn't see shit, just a blackness which is no surprise since he's closing his eyes. Then he hears something, a weak rumble that fades into nothing. Great, now he's interpreting his stomach growls as hidden messages about his nonexistent love life.

The rumble grows louder and Dean's brain finally connects the auditory sensation to actual reality. It's thunder he hears. The soft showering of rain soon follow but the thunder is still present, crackling in the background. It grows wilder and the next explosion of sound causes the small hairs on Dean's arms to shot straight up.

He finds it strange that there's no lightning – but he figures that his mind is doing a half-assed work with his hallucinations as it does with everything else in his life. As if being summoned, something bright flashes in front of his eyes.

The sound of thunder is overwhelming – it reverberates inside of him and makes his heart beat faster – as it eclipses the rainfall. Dean's body is not convinced it's in his bedroom anymore but rather in the eye of an epic storm and his mind screams at him to run.

Another sharp flash of lightning and Dean opens his eyes. He scrambles backward in shock.

Castiel looks at him, mild annoyance on his face. “Isn't there an HOA regulation for trespassing inside someone's home, Dean?”

Dean should be the one being annoyed. It's his freaking hallucination and somehow he's being scolded. It sure sounds like the same gravelly voice that causes the good kind of tremors to coarse through his body and as Dean's eyes take in Castiel's thick thighs – he's built like a tree, his firm stomach, very nice face – ten out of ten, to finally land on his face, Dean knows the truth.

Without a shadow of a doubt, Dean stands in Castiel's bedroom as said guy stares at him, only a pair of boxers covering up him up. The shock of it all, that the spell actually works, that Castiel is in front of him, that he stands there almost naked, all of it makes Dean stumble out words that could have been more eloquent. “I-I – you're almost naked?”

Castiel looks down at himself before paying attention to Dean again, a half-smile playing at his lips. “Your observational skills are amazing, Dean.” Castiel takes another step towards him. Thunder crashes outside the house, still ongoing and the windows rattle with the sheer force of it.

As Castiel slowly walks towards Dean, the darkness follows him like a jealous lover, and soon not even the persistent lighting strikes outside make any difference.

“That's quite a storm outside, hm?” He keeps his tone light. He's a big guy but Castiel is jacked. And even discounting the goat incident, Dean is pretty sure Castiel has all the reasons to try and knock him out, if not kick him out.

“Yes. I've always found thunder to be soothing. There's a beauty to it don't you think?” Castiel quiets down. He narrows his eyes, and there's steel in them. “Now, tell me again, Dean Winchester, how you entered my home?”

Dean takes a step back as Castiel uses his body as some kind of hot, sexy shield. He bites back a laugh. What's wrong with him? He's about to get his ass kicked, Charlie's fucking love spell seemed to – well not work as intended, but something had certainly happened.

Dean raises his hands. “Look, Cas, you won't believe me if I told you. How about I just head back home and we forget all about this?” His eyes rake over Castiel's body before he finds himself. That's something he won't forget.

Castiel walks over to a closet, opens the door, and grabs a shirt. “Indulge me.”

Thunder crashes right above them and Dean jumps at the sound.

Castiel turns, an amused smile on his lips. “Skittish?” He slides into his shirt with ease.

As he closes the door, Dean notices a small piece of framed art hanging on the wall. It looks like a gilded toy hammer of all things.

“Dean. I'll only ask you one more time. My patience is wearing thin.”

Dean tears his eyes from the strange art piece. The hair at the back of his neck stands up. Dean is not the kind of guy that backs down from a fight, but there's a quality to Castiel's voice that not only demands, but expects attention. His eyes are hard, the blue now matching the tempestuous weather outside and Dean thinks of Snarl's goat eyes. They have the same shade of blue. Dean almost starts laughing hysterically at the absurdity of it all but swallows when a hard look from Cas sends shivers through him.

“I –“ He shakes his head. He's gonna sound like a fucking lunatic but here goes. “Long story, and trust me, it's too long even for my liking, my luck with love has been crap. Not just the divorced kind of crap but, yeah. I've tried fucking everything, so this was my last option.” Here comes the fool and isn't it always Dean. “It was a... love spell that someone... uh, gave me. It brought me to you.”

An odd mix of dread and relief war within him, none prevailing but now he's come clean at least.

Castiel starts laughing. “A love spell? That's wonderful.”

Dean looks at Castiel in confusion as his shoulders shake. That was not the reaction he was expecting. He takes a step forward, hand raised. Castiel is still doubled over. Dean briefly contemplates sneaking out while his neighbor is busy taking the train to crazy town but it's as if Castiel can read his mind because suddenly he straightens, a serious look coming over him.

“A love spell! And here I was thinking you were a seith. Haven't seen one for a very long time, but my brother is always up to mischief. I was really close to putting on my gloves.”

Dean licks his lips. Castiel has not only taken the train to crazy town, it appears he's also taken up residence there too and for quite some time. You usually take off the gloves for fighting, but Dean is not going to correct the guy's grammar. “Look, Cas. I don't know what's going on but I ain't no sith.”

Castiel shakes his head, and walks over to Dean, slapping him on the back. “You have humor. I like that.” He steps back, nodding to himself. “A love spell, that usually requires potent magic. Did you find the spell to be to your... satisfaction?” There's an amused gleam in his eyes.

The thunderstorm has calmed Dean notices but the pull of Cas' voice and his words has his body at attention. His words are pure honey, but Dean won't delude himself, magic or no magic. “Yeah, it worked like a charm.”

Castiel hums. “Good. So, do you want to take a ride?”

Dean licks his lips, his eyes momentarily flickering down to Castiel's stomach and going lower still. The guy sure looks nice, thighs still thick as fucking tree trunks, and Dean envies that shirt that gets to cling to all that hot skin. Castiel's hair is dark and disheveled, his eyes possess a magnetic lure, and if he's being honest he wants to plant his lips on Castiel's hot mouth.

He almost goes for it but then he remembers why he did the goddamn spell in the first place. “Um, I don't know. It's not that you're not good looking... actually you're way more than good looking, hot even – Dean clears his throat and stops himself before he lays his heart bare to Castiel. He barely knows him.

“I meant a ride in my car, Dean. We can grab a beer and talk, as a start.”

“B-beer sounds good but – Are you not surprised I just showed up like freaking Jack-in-the-box in your house?”

Castiel tilts his head slightly. “No, things rarely surprise me much these days. We have a lot to talk about. I prefer my love interests to be aware.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Uh, aware? Aware of what?” Castiel grins. “How it is to date a god.” Well, isn't this Castiel full of himself, Dean thinks briefly – Dean's a god too, thank you very much – but Castiel turns his back to Dean. He grabs a pair of pants and snakes a belt through the loops. The buckle is an intricate forging hammer and it definitely commands attention to the love area.

Dean is not sure what to make of Castiel's fashion choices. “You gonna wear that hammer?”

Castiel looks at the wall, at the tiny hammer hanging there. “Younger brothers, you know how they can be. Although I must confess, I do find the joke funny, now. Back then I called thunder on him for over a fortnight.”

“I was talking about your belt buckle.”

Castiel grabs it, giving it a shake. “Of course I am.” He puts on a pair of sneakers and is already out the door.

Dean follows Castiel as he leads them behind the house. The sun is heavy on his back and Dean looks up. The sky is clear, the clouds whiter than toothpaste and bluer than he remembers it to be – it's worse than the Teletubbies sky. All he needs is the sun mocking him with its shrill laugh.

“There was – what happened to the storm? Thunder, lightning, the whole shebang?”

“It stopped.” Castiel says it like it's the most natural thing in the world.

“No, listen. It was like freaking Thor had a birthday party. Loud thunder, lightning strikes that made the hair at the back of my neck stand up. The sky was black! Those things don't just stop.”

Castiel waits until Dean catches up with him. “We can't have a storm now, we're on a beer date. Nothing tastes better than a cold beer on a hot day. The gods must truly be with us.” Castiel chuckles at that.

Dean's been following Castiel but stops in his tracks when they round the corner and he sees Castiel's ride. “That's your ride?” It's almost a whisper.

“Yes, it's a 57'– ”

“ – 57' Thunderbird. Oh, fuck, she's perfect.” Dean tries to calm his stuttering heart. The red paint is flawless and shines in the sun. “Can I touch her? Wow, I never figured you'd be driving a car like this.”

“I moved in a day ago. You already had time to figure me out; after only twenty-four hours?”

“Uh-huh. I would've guessed Prius. Boy, was I wrong.” Dean slowly runs his finger over the paint, sighing. “Wow, we're going on a date in this car, Cas? Marry me, why won't you?”

He can hear Cas laugh softly. “I see you like the classics. I've seen your car, so I'm not surprised.”

“Hell yeah, Baby is my pride but this car... It looks brand new. Must be worth a fortune.”

“Get in. I know the perfect place for beer.” Castiel closes the door behind Dean. “I'll be right back.”

Dean barely pays attention to Cas. The car is in mint condition; it looks like it just left the factory line. He sinks down in the seat and inhales the scent of oiled leather. The seat was made for him. Dean is lost in the car and carefully examines everything.

A bleat interrupts his thoughts. Gnasher and Snarl are trotting behind Castiel. He opens up the passenger door. “It'll be a tad cramped but they're good goats. They will share.”

“Wait, what?” Dean closes his mouth but his brain is still reeling from the shock. “Now just hold on a minute. You're gonna – they're gonna ride in the car?”

Castiel looks at the car and then at Dean. He squints, silence reigning for a minute. “Yes. They're not big for being goats. Come here, Snarl. Gnasher, you've never let me down.”

His voice is calm and holds an unexpected warmth for addressing a pair of goats. Castiel picks up Snarl and puts her in Dean's lap. “Hold her and she should be fine.”

Snarl bleats, her blue eyes looking at Dean with unsettling intelligence. This is wrong on so many levels, car-levels, goat-levels, common sense -levels. “You better not fart or poop or whatever it is you goats do?” Snarl starts munching on Dean's hair but stops when he swats at her.

Castiel grabs Gnasher, the white goat, and puts her down next to Snarl. They balance precariously on Dean's knees. He's old, his knees won't be able to handle all this extra goat weight. “Is this even legal?”

“The legality of this will never be an issue.” Cas smiles at Dean and puts the car in reverse. “I'm looking forward to this beer date, Dean. You've piqued my interest.”

Dean clears his throat and moves Snarl so she's looking at the seat. Her gaze is creepy. “Yeah, same here, Cas. My interest is very piqued.”

Castiel puts the Thunderbird in reverse and off they go. It doesn't rain or storm for the entire day.

[pinnithin-writes]

Good Jokes

Chapter 13

Tommy had handled everything up to this point with as much grace a demigod could muster. The addition of air assaults from attack helicopters, however, had finally robbed him of words.

It didn’t happen very often - hadn’t happened in years, really - but once his stress envelope was pushed too far, speech failed him. Too much noise, too much adrenaline, coupled with three days of no sleep and the immediate relief of Gordon’s wound being sealed had done him in. That was fine; he didn’t need to speak to pull a trigger. Not to mention Gordon and Benrey’s bickering was filling the air with enough words for the whole group.

He leaned his elbows against the railing at the top of the dam, catching his breath after downing an Apache, while the rest of the group argued over the control switch in a nearby tower. God, he was so tired. He didn’t necessarily need rest, but it did make his life easier. Every night they’d spent in the facility he’d stayed up to keep watch, or to keep an eye on Benrey, too nervous to sleep. The weariness had settled in his bones and stuck there.

Swimming through the dam’s turbines and emerging on the other side must’ve been the conclusion everyone came to, because Gordon stepped off the tower and took the plunge. Bold and fearless even while missing a hand, Tommy marveled as he watched. He winced when he hit the water several stories down. That can’t have felt good.

Bubby and Benrey followed suit while Tommy remained with Dr. Coomer at the top of the dam, zoning out. The desert brought on a whole new set of challenges, not only in the form of infantrymen and artillery, but also in the hot glaring sun overhead, in the searing sand underfoot. There weren’t any vending machines in the desert. They’d have to stick close to a water source as best as they could, for Gordon’s sake, at least. Tommy didn’t know what sort of enhancements had been given to Bubby and Coomer to prevent dehydration, but the one mortal member of the party surely wouldn’t last long.

“Tommy!” a distant call shook him from his thoughts.

He tipped his head down and saw the tiny orange dot that was Gordon Freeman, standing on a rock on the edge of the river below and waving his arms. Right, he needed to keep up. He raised a silent hand in acknowledgement, while Dr. Coomer vaulted over the railing and plummeted to the water below without hesitation. Tommy looked away so he wouldn’t have to watch the old man crumple like a coke can upon impact. Yeah, no, he wasn’t making that jump.

A blink later and he was standing beside Gordon and Bubby on the rock. Coomer was unpeeling himself from the bottom of the riverbed while the others squinted at the top of the dam. Tommy cleared his throat.

“Oh, there he is.” Bubby noticed him first. “He’s right here.”

Gordon turned, relief coloring his face. “Oh, you made it.”

Tommy offered him a wordless smile. I’m right behind you.

The river brought them through more pipes and tight spaces. Dr. Coomer, noticing that Tommy had gone unusually quiet, took it upon himself to keep the mood light as they traversed their new environment. It was a welcome reprieve, considering Benrey was more present and more talkative than he’d ever been before. They crept along through the gutter, flashlights in hand.

“What the hell is the point of this pipe?” Bubby asked.

“I don’t know” Gordon muttered, at the same time Dr. Coomer exclaimed, “This is where they keep the pipes!” sending everyone snickering.

Tommy made sure to give the scientist an appreciative glance when they emerged on the other side. The drone of circling helicopters could still be heard overhead, and they sheltered under an outcropping of red sandstone. Whoever had designed Black Mesa had done it in such a way that the facility looked like it was growing from the earth itself. Would’ve been pretty if it wasn’t getting riddled with shrapnel.

It was this sort of architecture that saved them, ultimately. Dodging the artillery would have been impossible otherwise. The team scurried through tunnels and chasms like rats, darting in and out of firing range as they traversed the unforgiving desert. At one point, Tommy found himself pressed shoulder to shoulder with Gordon behind the sandstone and could feel him shaking through his suit.

Unable to say anything, Tommy shot him a you okay? look as he racked his rifle. Gordon swallowed and nodded. The guy put on such an unflappable exterior. It was easy to forget that Gordon was as afraid as Tommy was.

Not afraid enough, however, to avoid going hand to hand with one of the soldiers they clashed with on a field of sand. Tommy was otherwise engaged, flushing out the infantrymen hiding behind a blind, and could do nothing but watch as Gordon grappled with his adversary several yards away. In the stormcloud of gunfire, he barely caught the soldier’s weapon discharge right next to Gordon’s head as he ripped it out of their hands. Gordon fired one, two, three shots into their helmet and they dropped.

All was still. While the others searched for a route onward, Tommy made his way over to Gordon, who let the M4 fall limply from his grip into the sand, breathing hard. A mixed swell of emotions was crashing around inside Tommy and he slapped a less-than-gentle hand on the man’s shoulder. His heart was hammering in his ribs.

He locked eyes with Gordon, hoping that the intensity of his stare would convey what he was thinking. Don’t ever do that again. You nearly gave me a damn heart attack.

Gordon laughed and shook his head apologetically.

Tommy scared him back, unintentionally, when the group wormed their way through a storm drain that emptied out onto a sheer cliff face. Everyone reeled with their own respective amounts of vertigo when they saw the drop. Even Benrey, whose careless facade had begun to chip ever so slightly after they’d run through a minefield, gave the chasm a wary look as he sauntered along the edge, hands in his pockets.

It was a beautiful view, despite the circumstances. The red and orange sandstone stood in proud, looming spires along the canyon. Below, a thin blue river glittered in the beating sun, ribboning through the rock in a way that was both gentle and unyielding. Tommy leaned closer to the ledge, taking in the landscape along with a deep, steadying breath. He allowed himself to have this moment. A few seconds of beautiful scenery in the middle of a war zone.

Gordon’s voice, shrill and startled, drew him back. “Okay, no, y- Tommy, Tommy,” he called.

Tommy turned. Gordon was beckoning him over, pressed against the canyon wall, a naked, fearful look on his face.

“Tommy, come back to me,” he pleaded. “You are too close to the edge.”

He glanced down and realized he was, in fact, mere centimeters away from the cliff’s sheer threshold. As Tommy took a generous step away, more out of consideration for Gordon than his own personal safety, he felt a strong hand grip the sleeve of his lab coat. He looked up and met Gordon’s stare, a nervous cocktail of worried and relieved, the same look Tommy had given him after that soldier nearly shot him.

The thought made Tommy smile. He gently unknotted Gordon’s fingers from his coat, his touch lingering a little longer than was necessary. Of course I’ll come back to you, the gesture said. I always will.

Benrey ruined the moment by daring Gordon to jump. “Maybe I’ll go if you go first,” Gordon shot back, and Tommy left them to argue as he moved on ahead.

The helicopters shredding the air around them set Tommy’s teeth on edge as they inched along the canyon wall. It was almost a relief to crawl inside another pipe, a welcome escape from the vertigo and the gunfire and the unforgiving sun. They emerged on the other side into a cistern of… something. Too blue to be water. Tommy stood up to his knees in it as his companions slumped, jelly-legged, against the walls. Coomer stretched out flat on his back, floating like he was in a swimming pool.

Benrey sat in the stuff so it was up to his neck. His eyes, usually bright and alert, were heavy with fatigue and a jaded scowl tugged at his mouth. Gordon stumbled out of the pipe last, and Benrey promptly chucked an aluminum can at him.

“Drink up, buddy,” he hissed. The can bounced impotently off the HEV suit’s armor casing.

Gordon pinned him with an irritable stare as he leaned against the cistern wall. “I’m not thirsty.”

“I’m thirsty,” Dr. Coomer commented in a weary attempt to defuse the hostility.

Benrey ignored him. “Hey, what happened to your arm?” he asked Gordon, crawling his gaze from the man’s face to his wrist.

Gordon’s response was tired. “I wanna kill you. I wanna make you dead.”

Tommy tuned them out as he studied the liquid swirling around his legs. He dipped a hand in it and rubbed his index finger and thumb together, feeling the pull of a sticky residue as he did so. Sugar? Gordon and Benrey’s argument escalated while Tommy touched a curious finger to his tongue. Oh, shit, he knew what this taste was.

As Tommy stood there wondering how the hell a vat of blue Powerade had wound up in the middle of the New Mexico desert, Benrey hauled himself out of the pool and approached Gordon with hostility, his characteristic sneer creeping back onto his face. “Looks like you’re a bit of a - looks like you fucked up there, huh?”

“I hate you,” Gordon ground out. “I hate you with my life.”

“I could drink soda forever,” Dr. Coomer - bless him; Tommy wanted to give him an award for his effort - called from his spot in the corner.

He was still only halfway paying attention, tracing his fingertips in a figure eight through the Powerade and theorizing about what sort of spatial displacement would have warranted this phenomenon. His train of thought was derailed when he caught a strange movement in the corner of his eye. Benrey lunged toward Gordon, interrupting him midsentence, and Tommy tensed, preparing for violence.

Gordon caught the entity with his good hand and pushed him gingerly backward, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline. “Did you just try to kiss me?” he asked.

Tommy blinked, flicking a glance at Benrey. Did he? He hadn’t looked up in time to see. The entity stared back sullenly and a heavy, awkward pause settled over the group. Powerade sloshed in the wake of their movement.

Gordon passed a perplexed look to Tommy. To verify what happened? To gauge his reaction? Tommy raised and lowered his shoulders in a miniscule shrug. He wasn’t sure how he felt - how he was allowed to feel - about the entity advancing on Gordon. It wasn’t like Tommy had any claim to the man, and the action was as far from reciprocated as it could possibly get.

Benrey’s bored expression gave away nothing. It was... still rude, all things considered. Tommy was at least a little disgruntled on Gordon’s behalf, but he tried to keep this expression from showing on his face. Maybe he could pass it off as discomfort from the Powerade soaking into his socks.

Bubby finally broke the silence, impatient to get a move on. “Benrey, you’ll just have to kiss him after we leave,” he said.

“Save the-” Gordon nudged Benrey back until he was a generous arm’s length away. “Save the lovin’ for later,” he intoned awkwardly.

“You’ll just have to kiss Dr. Freeman after the test,” Coomer added, in the same tone with which one would say, “That’s never going to happen,” and Gordon turned away, laughing.

He sloshed through the pool past Tommy to move on, reaching out and skating his palm from his elbow to his wrist as he went. Tommy suppressed a shiver, unable to keep himself from feeling like the touch was a promise.

“Do you feel stronger being here?” he asked, the sensation finally knocking the words out of him.

Gordon paused and looked back. “Stronger?”

“This is where they make the Powerade,” Tommy said, playfulness broadening across his face.

Humor and bewilderment danced in Gordon’s eyes. “Oh, this isn’t water?” he asked. He skimmed a hand across the surface. “Do we manufacture Powerade?”

“Now, Gordon, it’s a common misconception that we’ve been putting fluoride in the water,” Dr. Coomer spoke up, giving Tommy a delighted grin at his return from silence. “Secretly we’ve been replacing it with Powerade!”

Tommy returned the scientist’s smile genuinely.

---

After thoroughly hydrating themselves, the group climbed out of the cistern into some sort of military compound. Tommy guessed by the sandbags and haphazard razor wire that this was a forward operating base, a temporary setup with the intent to clear out quickly. He’d be worried about the tanks if Dr. Coomer didn’t completely annihilate the first one they saw with a single hit.

It was the same dance they’d been performing all day. Run, shoot, hide. Provide cover fire for your buddy. Grit your teeth against the explosions and the shrapnel. Survive, survive, survive.

Tommy wondered if they could sue Black Mesa for permanent hearing damage. Alongside psychological trauma and grievous mortal injury. Add it to the list.

The compound was mazelike in nature, and the group was turned around more than one time trying to make their way through. Gordon, rapidly losing steam in the relentless blaze of the sun, glanced tiredly around at the concrete walls while sweat ran down his face.

“Which way should we go?” he asked, eyes landing on Tommy. “Like I said, you’re de facto leader.”

Oh, he had been serious about that. Tommy cast his eyes around for a way forward and caught a route they hadn’t tried yet. He vaulted over a fallen steel beam and kept going, trusting the others to follow.

Gordon did so without hesitation. “Okay, Tommy’s picking that way,” he called to the team.

“I don’t know why the child gets to lead us,” Bubby grumbled, tagging along begrudgingly.

Tommy opened his mouth to utter a retort, but Gordon beat him to it. “He’s thirty six!” he snapped.

“A mere child,” Bubby insisted.

Coomer was shaking his head at him. “He’s very brave,” he said.

Was he? Right now he was just tired, numbed by the combat, scoured on all sides like a stone in a tumbler. His rifle was heavy in his hands as he methodically filled soldiers with bullets. He didn’t feel brave at all.

Benrey displayed one of his fastest regenerations yet, perishing in a mine explosion and appearing mere minutes later on the roof of the building they were scaling. Tommy shot him a perplexed look, searching for an explanation, but Benrey merely trapped his tongue between his pointed teeth and winked in reply.

Once they were certain the area was clear, they hunkered down in a storage room, away from the glaring sun and the helicopter blades, to rest. Gordon slid against the wall and down to the floor, utterly beat. Tommy spared a glance at the ruin that was his arm. It didn’t look any worse - whatever his father had done, it was at least keeping the wound from siphoning away Gordon’s life - but it was still a place where a hand should be that a hand was not.

He felt a brief bloom of anger in his stomach, remembering the person responsible was in this very room with them. Along with… a skeleton, for some reason. It mirrored the entity’s movements like a rattling doppelganger.

“Hey, hey,” Gordon spoke up woozily. “Can we have someone on medical watch? Can one of y - if I start convulsing in my sleep, I need one of you to wake me up. I don’t know if I’m gonna wake up from this.”

Before Tommy could assure him that he was always on watch, Benrey approached Gordon, shoulder to shoulder with the skeleton and passport in hand. “Where’s yours?” he asked. A crossbow was cradled in his free arm, pointed in a casual threat at Gordon.

The man stared fearlessly back. “I give up,” he told him, acid in his voice. “I’m gonna go to bed. And if you shoot me in the head while I’m asleep? I don’t care. It’s fine.”

Tommy would care, and he made it known by the dangerous glare he pierced Benrey with. The entity ignored him and turned away while Gordon leaned his head back against the wall, sleep already taking him.

“Goodnight, guys,” he murmured. “Goodnight, Tommy.”

Tommy pressed his back to the cold concrete, rifle across his knees, to wait things out until morning. He was steadily growing used to the man beside him saying that every night. Gentle voice thick with drowsiness, long eyelashes fluttering shut. He rubbed the side of his face, willing himself not to fantasize and failing.

One day, when this was all over, they could have this.

“Goodnight.”

Chapter 12 <-----> Chapter 14

[kchuarts]

Flowers in Blood

A/N: This ones a bit touchy folks. I also wrote Roper a bit comical in a way just because he’s always come off that way to me? Idk it could be because I still think of House when I look at em. (I’ve been looking for an excuse to use the gif featured because idk what it is about wounded men?? They’re 10x hotter but I also feel bad??) 

Summary: A voice from the past emerges. 

Warnings: Violence and mention of death. 

Taglist: @lucywrites02​, @shiningloki​ *(let me know if you want to be tagged!!)* 

Chapter 13: Bloodroot p. ii 

“Come out, come out wherever you are little girl~” One of Travis’s thugs chimed out, holding his gun out and motioning the other three to follow in short. “Careful, she might have a bit of a bite.” He joked to his comrades. The garden was huge and not only had large rocks for Katie to hide behind, but also some various trees. “Get ready to shoot if she’s up in the trees, but do not kill her or the boss will kill us instead.” The goon said, scanning the area. 

A splashing noise had them all turn around to the area of where the koi pond was. “Zac what the hell was that?” Another crony panicked and looked around frantically, holding his gun close. 

“Come on Andrew, you cannot be serious. She’s a girl without any defenses and no back up, you really think she’s gonna get you? Dumb ass.” Zac shook his head and turned to the other two, Dylan and Jimmy. He nodded in separate directions and grinned, “She can’t hide forever…” He put his gun away and stopped in the middle of the garden, holding his arms out. “Listen sweetie, as much as I enjoy a good game this is gonna get nasty real quick if you don’t cooperate with us.” He spoke loud and clear. 

“Zac, we’ve got about twenty minutes until authorities arrive. I’ve already notified-” Jimmy began to speak before he was interrupted by a sudden dragging noise. The dirty haired man looked around, pushing his glasses up, “Where did Dylan go?” He spoke slowly. 

“See! I was right Zac!! I fucking saw it coming!! We can’t underestimate females one bit!!” Andrew panicked, letting his anxiety get the better of him. 

“That’s fucking right!” Katie came around the corner, holding her knife to Dylan’s throat and using him as a human shield. “You shouldn’t underestimate me. Just because your boss fucked me up doesn’t mean I can’t break free of his control.” She growled, pressing the blade harder against Dylan’s throat. Never before had the brunette ever actually killed another person and she wanted to avoid that at all cost. Death was something that she didn’t do well with, no matter who it was. Her breathing became a little harder as she noticed the others begin to make a formation around her. “TAKE A STEP NEAR ME AND I’LL SLIT HIS THROAT!!” She screeched, eyes wide and full of fear. 

Dylan began to squirm, trying to use his height to his advantage and eventually succeeding. He broke free of Katie’s hold only to have her knife lodged in the back of his neck. “YOU BITCH!!” He screamed, falling to the ground. 

“FUCK WHAT TRAVIS SAYS! KILL THIS LITTLE BITCH!!” Zac pointed to her, pulling out his gun and firing an entire clip at her. Andrew and Jimmy followed in short before Zac pointed to Jimmy. “YOU STAY OUTTA THIS IN CASE SHE MANAGES TO-” He couldn’t finish as a shot was fired and pierced right through his brain, killing him instantly. No one knew where the hell that shot came from and it sent the surviving three in a panic. 

Out of nowhere, Katie tackled Jimmy to the ground as she took him out from his legs. She had taken cover behind the large rock in the knick of time just as Zac had begun to empty his clip. Using her training, she wrapped her arms tightly around Jimmy’s thighs and somersaulted forward; throwing him as hard as she could. Another shot was fired, taking Jimmy out and causing Katie to take cover when yet another gunshot sounded off. 

“KNOCK THIS OFF!! WHOEVER’S SHOOTING AT US, GIMME A MINUTE!!” Dylan roared, ripping Katie’s blade out of his neck and whipping it at her. 

“A-AAGH!!” She fell to the ground, clenching her teeth as Dylan had landed a lucky shot to her right leg. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck- UGH!” A fist slammed across Katie’s face and she was sent flying backwards a bit. Her back skid across the stones in the garden and head hitting a large boulder near the koi pond. More pain seared through her body as Dylan was punching her as hard as he could, knowing that she couldn’t fight back. Suddenly, sharp pain started to prick her in certain places on her body as the knife was ripped from her leg. She began to scream from being stabbed, crying out for help of any sort. The next thing she knew was that her head was forced under the water and being held there. She could feel blood leaking from her body and Dylan’s large hands wrapped tightly around her throat as he held her underwater. This was it- This was the end of her life and it was subsequently by the hands of Travis in the most indirect way. She was too weak to fight back and her vision began to go in and out, inhaling water as she was desperate to breathe. 

CRACK!

The pressure of Dylan’s hands suddenly released, causing Katie to inhale more water as she was too weak to move. She managed to hear a faint thudding noise as Dylan’s body dropped beside her, motionless. With her vision now completely blacking out, Katie mouthed Jonathan’s name to the best of her ability and gave into the drowning darkness. At least her last thoughts were of the man who had stolen her heart. 

“Well, we can’t have that now can we.” A british man’s voice sounded through the garden and he walked towards Katie, staring at her for a moment before hoisting the drowning girl from the pond. “Sorry Pine, I’m afraid I’ll have to kiss your girl to save her. Although, I’m certainly no prince charming; not in the slightest.” Roper chortled to himself, bending down and performing CPR to bring Katie back from a watery death.  

--------

Jonathan slammed his fist across Travis’s face, dodging the other man’s swings as best as he could. Not too long ago, Pine had knocked the gun from Travis and thus ensued an exchange of fists. He panted hard, exhaustion becoming apparent from the amount of energy he exerted fighting Travis. 

“What’s the matter old man? Can’t fight anymore?” Katie’s ex grinned wickedly, panting just as hard. “I’ve got all day!” Travis lifted his leg, swinging it and knocking Jonathan prone. Having the upperhand, Travis marched over to Pine and stomped on his chest. He dug his heel into his ribs and laughed as he heard a satisfying crunching noise accompanied by Jonathan’s scream. “We aren’t so different, you and I.” He grinned, stomping again and breaking another rib. Travis socked Pine across the face over and over as he heard him attempt to speak. “YOU LISTEN TO ME WHEN I’M TALKING!! I don’t give a shit about respecting elders, I’m the alpha around here.”  He gave one last good hit across Jonathan’s face before being satisfied. 

Everything hurt, his body ached from all the straining and exertion he had been forced to use. This was exactly like the time he had “rescued” Dans, Roper's son. “Don’t hurt her.” He muttered. “Please. Don’t hurt.” He choked a little from snot and blood before being grabbed by the front of his shirt and hoisted up. Through beaten eyes, he could hardly see Travis’s sick smirk. He could care less about what was said before, all he could think about was getting to Katie and saving her. 

“Now, as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me.” Travis chuckled, examining his fingernails on his other hand. “We’re very much from the same coin, you saw some fucked up shit in war and I saw some fucked up shit growing up. We were forced to make a decision and kill.” He nodded to himself and clicked his tongue. “It’s not gonna be long before you finally snap yourself, Pine. You’ll be driven mad with the thought of her leaving you and will come up with more creative ways to control her. That’s what I had to do, little fox was always trying to run away from her alpha. Cunning thing she is, so sweet and innocent… So fun to break and toy with.” He flicked his dark eyes up, noticing Andrew scurrying back in with a panicked look. Travis frowned and dropped Jonathan, placing his foot down on his head and pushing his weight on him. “What the fuck is it? Where’s Katie?” 

Andrew let out a sob and began to wail incoherently, pointing back and blubbering something about a shooter. “Dylan, Zac, ‘n Jim are allgoneandIhadtogetoutbeforehegotmetoothepolicearecomingand-” a firm slap was branded across his face as Travis had grown tired of his whines. 

“Will you just shut up! Fuck, you’re such a pussy!! Fine. I guess you get a pass, Pine. I can only hope that my Katie is still breathing.” There again was the sick smirk as sirens blared in the background. “I can’t wait for the next time we meet.” Travis waved and grabbed Andrew by the arm, pulling him out of the fray. 

Pine coughed hard, vision blurred from blood and sweat. “Kate… Please…” His voice was stuffy from his broken, bloodied nose. Jonathan closed his tired eyes, shedding tears that stung the cuts on his face. “Kate.” He kept mumbling her name over and over, praying she was safe. A slew of footsteps entered into the lobby but only a foreign language was spoken. Gloved hands began to assess the damage done to Jonathan, muffled Japanese clogging his hearing. 

“Does anyone speak English?” An all too familiar voice caught Jonathan’s attention in the worst way. 

Jonathan turned his head slowly, opening his eyes and taking in a rattly breath from what he was able to make out. “No. Kate.” He cried, seeing Roper walk past him with Katie’s motionless and bleeding body in his arms. “Please, Roper. Please.” He croaked, looking up at his enemy while being treated. 

“Oh dear.” Richard grimaced at Pine. “You look exactly the way I found you back in Spain 2 years ago. Tsk, nasty habit you have.” He handed Katie over to paramedics and nodded at them.  “Too bad I won’t be requiring your services anytime soon as my trust in you is completely gone. Although, I do have some news…” He knelt down, giving Jonathan a pat against his wounded cheek and received a whine from the wounded man. “Oh come off it. You know better than to whine like a little girl, Pine. Fortunately, we have a common enemy.” He paused, looking at Jonathan to see if he was still listening. 

“Kate-” Jonathan coughed, whining again from the pain in his chest. 

Richard frowned at his persistence of the girl. “She’ll be fine, only ten stab wounds and nothing fatal. She did take a bit of a swim though and I had to play Baywatch for just a tick until she drew breath again.” He got up, following the paramedics and watching Pine get loaded onto a stretcher. “Seeing as you don’t want to pay any attention to vital news I have, I will be contacting you later. Oh and by the way, your hospital fees are covered by yours truly. Consider this one last favor from me to you, toodles.” 

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

“Did you get him?” Abbadon asked, folding her arms over her chest as Roper walked into the teahouse, taking a seat across from her. 

“Mmm, no. He was busy having a tussle with Pine so I couldn’t get to him.” Richard pulled his cigarette carton out, pulling a stick from it and offering one to Abbadon. 

She waved her hand and shook her head no, “I quit eleven years ago when I found I was pregnant with my son. I promised myself I wouldn’t return to that nasty habit.” Abbadon admitted genuinely. Never in her life did she ever think she’d be working with Richard Roper of all people. Sure, they were cut out from the same cloth in terms of business, as much as she hated to be in it, but she was unaware that he also wanted to bring Daniel down. 

Shrugging, Roper lit his cigarette and took a drag from it. “So,” He turned his head away, blowing smoke in the opposite direction, “What’s with you and wanting Travis dead? I thought you’d want that slimy little bastard taken care of first… Or whatever the hell the bitch over in Korea is named. I heard you two have gotten into cat fights.” He mused to himself and eyed Abbadon, teasing her slightly. 

The auburn haired woman snorted in amusement, “I wouldn’t exactly call them “cat fights” so much as an actual fist fight. I am no angst ridden school girl despite how troubled I am.” She looked up at their waiter and nodded in thanks as the tea was delivered. Carefully, Abbadon took the kettle and poured her scalding hot tea into her cup and set it down. She tested the intensity of the heat with her upper lip before taking a sip. “Ah, excellent.” She spoke to herself, setting down the cup. “Why I want him dead is because he is obsessed with Katelyn. He reminds me much of Ulrich, my bastard of a husband. The things I was told of what he had done to her is too reminiscent of my own situation. Thankfully, Ulrich is not obsessed with me and would rather not have anything to do with me.” She paused for a moment before returning to her original plan of action. “She and Pine are the only hope I have of getting my son back.” She looked at Roper with a rather wistful expression. “Certainly you can understand me, no? You have a child of your own?” She raised her eyebrows, grabbing her tea cup and taking another sip. 

Taking another puff of his cigarette, Roper nodded and sighed. Smoke jetted from his nostrils as he did so, “Yes, I do. I also have a son whom I care about despite what his bitch of a mother thinks.” He spoke of his ex wife bitterly. “Anyways, what you’re getting at is that you commiserate with Pine’s girl? Cute little lass she is.” 

“Yes.” 

“Mhm. Abuse… I have no right to make any commentary on that seeing as I am also one who isn’t the most kind lover.” He cleared his throat, wanting to avoid that subject. “Now, the money if you please.” He held his hand out and took the payment Abbadon handed over. “Never thought I’d get to use my hitman skills ever again. I must say, I had fun with it though I nearly shot Miss O’Connor.” He stopped counting the bills as he noticed Abbadon look at him with rage. “I wasn’t intending to aim for her, I left her be just as you wanted. Poor thing almost inhaled a koi fish.” He placed his cigarette between his lips and resumed counting. “If it weren’t for me she would literally be swimming with the fishes.” 

Abbadon huffed, taking another sip of her tea and leering at the man sitting across from her. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t joke about her like that. I want her to live the life that I could never have, please be more considerate.” She finished her tea and stood, turning to leave. “I wish that our paths wouldn’t cross again, but unfortunately we share a common enemy. Until next we meet, Richard.” 

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

Sleep would not come to Jonathan that night as he tossed and turned uncomfortably with IVs and a ventilator to help oxygen get into one of his collapsed lungs. “No. No- Katie don’t go.” His voice was hoarse but laced with pain and devastation. Jonathan’s eyes were shut but he was trapped in a nightmare of losing Katie to Travis. “Stop, no don’t hurt her.” He continued to cry, causing the machine monitoring his vitals to beep as his heart rate increased. 

“Mr. Redwood? Are you alright?” A nurse walked in, eyes full of worry as she saw the pained man. Stephanie Nakamura was placed in charge of Jonathan as she was the only one there at the moment, who spoke English fluently. She was of American and Japanese descent but decided to live in Japan to find her roots. “Mr. Redwood?” She called again and began to take measures in case things decided to go wrong. 

Jonathan and Katie had been given new aliases courtesy of Richard Roper. He still wanted them to play the game and carried on with the whole “tree” last name scheme. Jonathan went by “Todd Redwood” and Katie by “Kit Redwood”. Apparently Richard thought it would be funny to also throw in an animal into their names; the fox. 

Gasping, Pine shuddered hard and coughed in pain. His eyes shot open and he looked around in worry, “Where? Where is she?” He asked in a rough voice and looked at Stephanie with panic. “Where’s Katie?” He was not yet aware of the aliases at hand. 

“Katie? I thought your wife’s name was Kit… Hmm maybe Kit is a variant of Katie?” Stephanie thought to herself before catching Pine trying to get up from the corner of her eye. “NO!! Mr. Redwood you mustn’t get up!!” She forced him back down and pressed her call button for help as he just would not stop struggling. “You shouldn’t speak either, your lung is not healed at all!” She looked over her shoulder and saw some nurses enter the room. Speaking in her native tongue, she asked for assistance with Jonathan and had him sedated for the night. “Poor man. He really is worried about his wife…” 

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

For the next two weeks, Jonathan struggled to go see Katie. He learned that while no vital organs were hit, she still had lost a lot of blood. Also, due to her inhaling a ton of water she was being monitored for any further damage. The only times that she would wake up were to scream out for help, her eyes were shut the entire time. Those screams broke Jonathan’s heart as he knew she was reliving the nightmare she went through with Travis, and now this. What made things worse was that she cried out for Cameron to save her and to not leave her. Once Pine was well enough, Stephanie allowed him to sit by Katie’s bedside. Not once did he leave her side and let go of her hand. Here he was now, sitting beside her and holding her hand. “Katie please wake up.” His thumb rubbed her hand, tears stinging his eyes. “Please.” He bowed his head, resting it on the bed. “I can’t lose you.” 

At those words, Katie’s fingers twitched and caused Jonathan to look up. “Jon...nathan.. Jon..” his name came out softly from her lips. She repeated his name brokenly and in a hushed tone, tears of her own sliding down her cheeks. “Thank… You… watching her..” 

Pine’s brow knit together and he scooted closer to her, wondering if she was losing her mind. “What? What do you mean?” 

“You… Protect her.... Cherish..” A soft smile formed on her lips despite her eyes being closed. “Little fox.” 

There was no way. Jonathan couldn’t believe what he was hearing and immediate doubt settled in. He didn’t believe much in the paranormal but what she was saying sounded like Cameron was communicating through her. With some hesitation, Pine swallowed hard and pondered if he should even give the silly idea a chance. “C...C-Cam?” He whispered. 

Katie nodded very faintly, the smile still on her face. “Take care… her heart...  Thank you, my brother.” The brunette suddenly fell limp, the smile fading from her face and monitor flatlining. 

“KATIE NO!! SOMEONE HELP!! NO!! NO!!” Jonathan screamed, standing upright and beginning to sob. “NO DON’T YOU LEAVE ME!! SOMEONE!! HELP-” He stopped as he heard Katie gasp loudly and the machine coming back with her vitals. 

Wide green eyes stared into blue ones and before Katie knew it, she felt Pine’s arms wrap around her and his wet face buried into the crook of her neck.

[princessbee23]

Unfinished and to be continued. Please let me know if you have any requests! 😋

I had finally managed to convince myself that this entire adventure was something I never should’ve started to begin with and was reaching for my bag when the tall, broad, attractive man I’d agreed to meet took his seat across from me. I had trouble doing anything but bat my eyelashes and stare, the large age difference not seeming as intimidating seeing him face to face now. “Well, I’m sorry you beat me here,” he said, his voice soft and deep. “It’s not like me to keep a lady waiting.”

I hoped my makeup was enough to hide how rosy my cheeks had grown. “I just have a knack for showing up unfashionably early,” I answered.

“And you look flawless,” he said, flashing me a smile. “You must not have wanted to keep me waiting.”

I shook my head, trying to ease my body back into the chair instead of looking so visibly nervous. “No, I didn’t.”

“That’s a good girl,” he said, giving me a sly wink before turning his attention to the server that had approached us. I listened as he ordered some exotic sounding bottle of wine, me being so ignorant to the wine world that I didn’t have any idea if it were even white or red.

I crossed my ankles, those last two words lingering in my mind, and squeezed my thighs as tightly as I could in attempt to ignore the tingle good girl had elicited from between my legs. “Just water, please,” I answered when the server had asked me, I hoped, what I wanted. I didn’t truthfully hear him at all.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, reaching out to take my chin between his thumb and forefinger and admire my face. “How was your day, baby?”

I was so flustered by the immediate doting that there was an audible gap between his question and my answer. “It was lovely,” I finally managed, letting my cheek rest against his hand when he moved it.

“I imagine it was,” he replied, the corner of his lip lifting as he no doubt thought about all of the obediently taken videos I’d sent him earlier in the day. “Did you enjoy your time at the salon, then?” He said, running his hand from my cheek, down my arm, to take my hand and admire my freshly manicured nails.

“I did,” I giggled nervously. “Do you like them?”

“Oh yes. Yes I do.” He brought my hand to his lips for a soft kiss, lowering it gently back to the table. “All of this, really.”

He did that the majority of the night, snuck sweet compliments into the conversation. He knew I loved that and was using it to his advantage. I guess my makeup wasn’t hiding my flushed cheeks after all, because after his first glass of wine he leaned in and whispered, “It’s fucking adorable when you blush like that.”

With every complement and the progression of his hand to my thigh as we talked, I was dying to get out of that restaurant. I didn’t know if I’d make it out of the parking lot, let alone back to his house without throwing myself at him. I’d never been more relieved in my life to see a server hand over a check—or maybe it was more him holding up his card without looking at the check. “So,” he said, leaning in close to me. “Ready to get out of here, babygirl?”

My eyes flickered over his face before I nodded a bit too enthusiastically. “Yes please, Daddy.” That was the first time I’d ever really heard it come out of my mouth, and I truly hadn’t meant to say it. He grinned when my hand flew to my mouth, my entire face turning beet red.

“Don’t be embarrassed, baby,” he whispered, giving my temple a kiss. He moved his hand further up my leg to hold onto my inner thigh as he used his free hand to order an Uber.

He lead me through the restaurant by my hand, keeping me close to him up until holding the Uber door open for me and climbing in after. It was a much, much nicer car than I would’ve ever ordered for myself. So nice, in fact, there was a privacy divider between the front and back seat.

“You won’t be needing that,” he said, stopping me as I went to pull my seatbelt on. He took my face in his hands and kissed me, only stopping long enough to say, “It’s been hard showing self control all night.”

I nodded, having a hard time talking as his lips moved from my mouth to my neck, his hands settled on my hips now. “M-me too,” I finally stammered, tossing my head back.

He moved his lips back to mine, gently guiding me to lie back on the seat while he got between my legs and ran his hand up the back of my thigh under my dress. I wanted him right then and there, even if that meant me forever feeling too embarrassed to ever order an Uber again. “You look so sexy,” he whispered as he moved his hands over my waist and hips. “I’m gonna have a hard time keeping my hands off you on the ride home.”

“So don’t?” I suggested softly, batting my eyelashes up at him.

He chuckled, sitting back and pushing my legs further apart. He ran a hand up each of my thighs, pushing them wider apart when he’d gotten to the top. He rubbed my clit through my panties and ran the tip of a finger down in between my pussy lips, moving the damp fabric aside with a cocky, “Hm.” He dipped his finger in between the lips, and I gasped as he teased the hole. “I can’t believe how wet you are baby...” he murmured. “Is that for me?”

“Yes daddy.” I closed my eyes, biting down on my lip to keep myself quiet as he teased my pussy, circling a finger slowly around my swollen, sensitive clit. He pushed a finger into me slowly and moved his lips to mine before I could really start moaning. He pumped it in and out of me as he kissed me, adding another finger and rubbing my clit with his thumb along the way.

“Such a good girl, letting me touch you in the car like this.” He removed his fingers from inside of me and rubbed my pussy, using his other hand to tug the zipper on the front of my dress down, my tits spilling out for him. “You dressed well.”

I nodded, grinding my pussy against his hand at his praise. “Just for you daddy.”

“Mm, just for me.” He wrapped his lips around one of my nipples, his tongue making big, sloppy circles around it before he moved to the other one. “C’mere.” He say up and pulled me into his lap, neglecting my soaking wet pussy to enjoy my tits he so loved. “Fuck,” he said, taking them in his hands and squeezing. “I love your tits.” He rolled my nipples between his fingers on them, pulling on them until he had to kindly remind me to stay as quiet as possible. He lapped at my nipples, giving each of them a turn with his tongue and his fingers.

I was squirming in his lap, his thick, rock hard cock pressed against my pussy while he took his time licking and sucking on my tits. “Mm, Daddy,” I gasped, sinking my nails into his shoulder blades.

“What’s on your mind, baby?” He asked, smirking because he knew good and well what was on my mind.

“Your cock,” I answered after a moment of hesitation, my nerves sneaking back up on me.

“Yeah? You want this big cock in you baby?”

“Yes Daddy,” I nodded, shimmying my hips to bring his attention back to my pussy against his cock. “Please?”

“Not yet.” He pressed his lips to mine, squeezing my tits in his hands. “I’ve gotta get you home first. Eat you. Feed you my cock. But don’t worry, Princess, you’ll be sitting on it before the night’s end. I promise.”

I nodded, whining in protest all the while. We made out the rest of the ride to his house, his hands seldom leaving my tits. When they did, it was only to take hold of my hips and force me down harder against the dick I was so anxious to have inside of me.

He let me hold onto his hand as he led me up the walkway to his front door, following behind me up the steps in case I happened to trip in the heels I’d worn specifically for him. He unlocked the door and turned one the entry lights, leading me through his dimly lit home straight to his bedroom. He sat me on the bed and yanked the zipper of my dress back down, kissing my lips before lowering his head back down to my tits. The image of spending time with him in the future and being his personal set of tits to suck on when he needed it flashed through my head, and in that moment, I wanted him in me all the more. I wanted to be his. I wanted him to fuck me until I couldn’t think straight and fill me with his cum to make me as his.

He took hold of my dress and shimmied it over my head, tossing it to the floor. He admired my almost fully naked body, giving my nipples one last nip before lying me back on the bed and kissing down my body, making sure to let his tongue linger when he passed over my tits. He spread my legs, folding them back out of the way, and buried his tongue between the lips of my pussy.

My hips buckled and I let out a loud gasp, thankful to be free to be as loud as I needed, because he was devouring my pussy in a way it’d never been before. He spread my pussy lips and ran the tip of his tongue along the folds, circling around my clit before giving in and giving it long, wide licks that were driving me wild. He slid two fingers into me, curling them and moving them back and forth as he worked my clit with his tongue. I gushed all over his fingers and he moved to drink my cum, holding onto my waist so I couldn’t squirm away.

“Did you cum like that just for Daddy?” He asked, letting me lick and kiss his chin and face while he rubbed my pussy with the entire width of his hand.

“Yes daddy.” I still hadn’t been able to catch my breath.

“Come here and get on your knees for me baby.” I nodded and scurried to my knees in front of him, looking up expectantly as he unzipped his pants. “You wanna suck on this cock for me, Princess? Get it ready for that tight little pussy?”

I nodded again, more enthusiastically this time as his cock flopped out of his pants—and my nerves washed over me all again at once. He was huge. The photos he’d sent hadn’t come close to doing his size justice.

I sat back on my calves and looked up at him, opening my mouth as wide as I possibly could. He slid the head in and used his hand to hold all of my hair out of my face as I worked it with my tongue and tried to get him deeper in. It was a struggle, though. I kept gagging, but he seemed to enjoy that more than if I had been able to get him down my throat. It was coating his cock with my spit, and he liked that I was happy to let him slap his cock against my lips and slide it back as far as it could go. He loved when I wrapped my fingers around his cock and jacked him while I took his balls into my mouth.

I loved the sounds he made while I had him like that. The cursing under his breath, the groans, moans, grunts, and sighs, the things he said. “Fuck, baby, you’re such a good girl. You suck my cock so fucking well. Such a good girl for daddy, aren’t you baby?”

He pulled me to my feet and kissed me, laying me down on the bed before stripping out of his clothes and climbing on top of me. “You want me to fuck you baby?”

“Yes daddy.” I was intoxicated by how badly I wanted him, pushing my hips up just to try to feel his cock against me.

I didn’t have to do that for long, though, because he lined the head up with my pussy and started to, ever so slowly, push his cock inside of me. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned.

I whined, clinching my fists. I had been so excited about having his big, thick cock inside of me that I hadn’t thought about how my pussy hadn’t been stretched that way in ages... if ever. “It hurts,” I whined, the safe word we’d picked before meeting ringing in the back of my head. “It hurts, Daddy.”

“Shh, baby.” He covered my mouth with his hand, pushing his cock further into me. I couldn’t believe he still wasn’t all the way inside of me yet. “Just take it.” I don’t know what it was about him telling me to just take it, but I groaned against his hand as he pushed into me, loving how full to the brim I was when he’d pushed all the way to the base. I nodded, letting out slow, loud moans against his palm as he warmed up my pussy by pushing in and out of me with long, slow thrusts. “You like that baby?”

I nodded, my eyes rolled back into my head as he pushed all the way into my stomach—or fuck, did it feel like it.

He leaned down to kiss my lips, his thrusts getting steadily faster until he was pounding into my tight pussy, and I couldn’t do anything but drag my nails down his back and damn near scream, “Yes daddy!”