#sigh tumblr tags are the best place for babbling

[iiping]

just boyfriends being boyfriends 😌

[yuki-world]

丹恒 | DAN HENG ; APHRODISIAC

summary | you ate something wrong, and you went to dan heng for help. except… you needed a different kind of help.

tags | nsfw (smut), fem!reader, aphrodisiac, creampie, 2.1k words

a/n : first time posting on tumblr pls bear with me 谢谢! + did not proofread, may have slight errors

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“y/n, you’re heating up, what did you eat?” dan heng asks, placing the back of his hand on forehead. you squirm at his touch, which he seems to not notice. “fever…?” he mutters to himself as he diagnoses the situation.

you’re sat on his chair, panting quietly, thighs desperately trying to rub against each other, in hopes of any stimulation to relieve that throbbing sensation in your cunt. you were wet; practically dripping. you might even stain the seat with your juices at this rate. the more you moved, the more the effects strengthened.

“what did you eat, y/n? answer me,” dan heng asks again from the lack of reply, and you almost came from how demanding he sounded. god, the aphrodisiac was really messing with your head. everything about him was hot. you could barely even think of anything else; just him fucking you right there and then. even as you try to answer his question, your voice fails you and you stop yourself, afraid it might come out as a moan instead.

you almost laugh at how worried dan heng looks, quite the opposite of how he always is. your grip on the chair handles tighten as you try to control yourself, for you might actually pounce on him. you needed to be filled so bad, for a cock to stuff you full until you’re nothing but a babbling mess.

“i think i’ll go get a doctor,” dan heng sighs, looking at the state you were in. “you just… stay here. i’ll be backー”

as he walks past you, you grab his arm to stop him from leaving. his breath hitches, as he looks back down at you. “y/n?”

you pause for a moment, before you opened your mouth.

“i, ah,” you stutter, trying to sound as normal as possible. “aーaphrodisiac,” is all you could say, and even that one word came out shaky. his eyes widened almost immediately.

he doesnt say anything, but you can visibly see him gulp, as he tries to maintain composure. he should’ve known, should’ve noticed how you were squirming around in the chair. it all made sense.

“you need to rest. i’ll get the doctor immediately.” he states plainly, and that’s all he can say. dirty thoughts invade his mind at the mention of aphrodisiac, but he tries his best to snap out of it.

fuck, you couldn’t take it anymore. your body needed to be touched, literally any small touch from dan heng would do. taking medicine or waiting it out isn’t going to satisfy you at all.

as he takes another step towards the door again, you stand up instantly, almost falling onto him. “pleaseー please don’t, dan heng,” you pleaded with those puppy eyes of yours, and his resolve crumbles. how sweet his name sounded coming from you, at this very moment, has him feeling a certain type of way. he’s never thought of you in inappropriate ways, but right now, the thought of you calling out his name like that in bed…

“what… what do you suggest i do to help you, y/n?” he asksーsuggestively, and you couldn’t care less anymore.

as you pull him in for a kiss by his jacket, his face heats up almost immediately, soft red dusting over his cheeks. he doesn’t hesitate to kiss back, not even trying to pull away as you slip your tongue into his mouth. he wants more, he thinks, hand snaking around your waist to pull you in closer. his other hand playfully travels down to your ass, making you gasp in surprise as he squeezes it.

you never knew you could’ve felt hotter than you were previously, with the sloppy make out session making you yearn for his cock even more. you subconsciously grind onto his bulge, feeling him harden against you.

as he pulls away, a string of saliva drips that was connecting the both of you drips down your mouth, and he swears his erection is going to burst through his pants. “y/n… wait.”

he’s panting as he speaks, hand reaching up to caress your cheek. “i don’t want to take advantage of you.”

him? taking advantage of you? when you were the one looking for him to relieve yourself?

“don’t be stupid, dan heng,” you giggle, your kisses trailing down his neck as he gulps, confusion written on his face with the sudden change in your demeanor. “what?”

“what i’m saying is…” you start, as you suck on his neck, eliciting a moan from him. his hand flys up to grip your hair, as you continued to lick and suck on the same spot; that was definitely going to bruise.

“…you canーnnh, do whatever you want to me.”

fuck, he thinks to himself. you’re so lewd.

his cock twitches again, and he’s had enough of the foreplay. he has to be inside you now or he might actually die.

he bends you over the table, not even bothering to undress you or himself, as he flips your skirt up. god, was he glad you wore a skirt. or perhaps you did it on purpose?

either way, he doesn’t care. he slips your drenched panties off, running his fingers up and down your folds. you were so wet, you bet he’d slip in so easily. he kneels down, lowering his face to your pussy, as he starts licking, lapping up all your wetness. who could blame him? the sight of your glistening cunt on display for him really does it for him.

he tongues your hole, the small and wet muscle thrusting in and out of you has your legs trembling. your grip on the table was so strong, your fingers begun turning red. “fuuuuck, dan heng, ohー”

he doesn’t stop until you’re a drooling mess, babbling about how good it feels. your drool might’ve even gotten on some of his documents he left on the table, but that was a problem for another day. the room filled with nothing but slurping sounds and your loud moans; as much as you wanted to keep it down, your mind was blank.

“mmh more! right there, yes!” you mindlessly blurt out, and he does exactly that. “mm, right here?” he asks, spreading your ass further apart, and tongue-fucks you in all the right places. the wetness of your own juices was replaced with his saliva and spit, some even getting on your thighs. as he started sucking your clit, you almost blacked out.

“cumming, oh fuck, dan heng, nnghー” you came as he gives a particularly harsh suck to your clit, and your head drops to the table. your juices coat his lips and a little on his nose, as he continues lapping them up as if it was the most delicious thing ever. your legs almost give up as he continues overstimulating you.

after he deemed it was enough, he carried you to his bed, throwing you down as he eagerly takes off his top.

“are you on aphrodisiac too?” you ask teasingly, but he doesn’t answer; just pops the button of your blouse open, pulling down your bra to expose your tits. doesnt even bother to unhook it as his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, hand fondling the other.

before you even have time to process what just happened, you see him get back up, with his zipper being pulled down. his cock pops out, red and hard; long and big. your mouth waters at the sight, hand instinctively reaching out to touch it, but dan heng slaps it away. “no, i need something more right now,” he says, exhaling as he gives his cock a few strokes, squeezing beads of pre-cum out.

and it was at this moment when he looks at you, sprawled out on his bed, exposed from your chest to your cunt, with your eyes a little teary from how good you were eaten out just now… you were breathtaking. so pretty, so soft, yet so lewd… he’s never seen anyone more beautiful than you.

“put it in already…” he hears, as he snaps out of his thoughts.

“so needy,” he mutters quietly to himself, guiding his cock to the entrance of your cunt.

as the head of his cock enters you, the both of you let out a sigh. even though he was going slow, you felt like he was splitting you apart. your pussy tightens around him immediately, and he has to stop himself from cumming right there and then.

“fuck, don’tー don’t do that y/n,” he warns as he continues to push his cock in, inch by inch, making you moan every time he moves. as he finally bottoms out for what seemed to be ages, he hand comes up to your head, sweetly brushing your hair away from your sweaty forehead. “you’re so pretty.”

your heart starts pounding a little faster, and your eyes look at anywhere but his. “don’t get shy on me now.”

just as you were about to reply with i’m not, he starts to pull his cock out, slamming it back into you in one swift movement. you cry out as he continues his pounding, increasing his pace every time he hears you let out a small whimper.

“dan heng, its so big mmfhh…” you drool mindlessly as he fucks you mercilessly, spreading your legs further apart so you take more of him each time. once in a while, he even grinds into you each time your pussy is at the base of his cock.

he throws one of your legs over his shoulder, and he felt his cock hit a particular spot, making you dig your nails into his back. “fuck, right there! ahー”

he slams his cock into that spot multiple times, just the way you like it. “rightー thrust ーhere? thrustーhmm?” he questions, and you can only nod your head as no words come out.

“god, you feel so good y/n, iーi can’t…” he trails off, pinning your hands above your head as he continues his thrusts. he was almost at his limit, and you could tell by the way his movements turn sloppy, and his breathing gets heavier.

“dan hengー nngh, are you going to cum?” you ask, and he lets go of the leg previously on his shoulder. he buries his face into your neck, taking in your scent. “…yeah,” he whispers into your ear, a hand grabbing your waist to fuck you onto his cock. “you?”

“will you cum inside me?” you ask ever-so-innocently, not even replying to his question, and his breath hitches. he stops his movements abruptly, his cock twitching inside you, as he pants heavily.

he takes a moment as light breaths tickle your neck, eventually propping himself on his elbows. “don’t… say these kind of things.”

“you can, if you want to,” you smile, wrapping your legs around him, pulling him closer to you (and deeper into you).

he might actually go crazy. he’s lucky he stopped himself after you said that, because he’d definitely bust inside you after that question. of course he wants to, of course he wants to dump his load inside you and watch it seep out of you puffy cunt when you’re all done.

he starts moving again, slower and more sensual this time, but it still makes you feel so good. he rolls his hips against yours, occasionally biting your neck to suppress his sounds. dan heng was close, like, really close. but he has to make you cum first; or at least together.

his hand reaches down, rubbing your clit harshly, and his starts picking up his pace. you gasp at the sensation, as your legs tightened around him.

you cry out as your orgasm was reaching, hands moving from his back, to hugging his neck. you could barely breathe from how hard he was fucking you.

“dan heng, i… i’m cummingーnngh… cumming!”

as your toes curl and your eyes roll back, your orgasm hits you like a train, so fast, so powerful and so wet. your walls tighten around him so much, all thoughts of pulling out goes down the drain.

theres no way he wasn’t cumming inside you.

“y/n, fuckー you’re so tight… i’m going to cum.”

squelching noises fill the room louder as he pounds into your tight cunt, he was really at his limit. “shit… ah, here it comes… fuckー”

his cock twitches again, and he groans as he cums with one last thrust. ropes of thick, white, warm cream fill your insides, as your walls fluttered around him. dan heng trembles slightly as he tries to fuck his cum back into you.

he pants heavily into your neck, the grip of his hands on your body slowly releasing. the room smells like nothing but sex, as you try to catch your own breath. “you’re… you’re really something,” you let out a chuckle, hands coming down to pat his back softly. “mm,” dan heng hums back in satisfaction.

maybe the aphrodisiac wasn’t so bad after all.

ー @yuki-world

[jenchan-writingmultis]

Twisted Wonderland Boys x Fem Reader in their respective Fairytales (Series)

(Riddle Part two) ─────❅─────

Content Warning: This Fic will be tagged as 16+ since it is a bit suggestive along with mentions of Gorey themes (Azul), it’s very vague. I haven’t finished Book 6 and Book 7 because I’m stuck in Tartarus, but they’re not done here yet. Riddle (Suggestive Themes), Leona (Cussing, Blood mention), Azul (Obsession, Manipulation, Potential Cannibalism? (He eats merpeople who are turned into Polyps). The reason for potential OOC was cause I mixed both the classic Villains with the personality of our beloved boys

Due to the Tumblr Limit, Each one will be divided unfortunately, hopefully it's an easy navigation for all of you!

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First Batch would be: Riddle, Leona, Azul Second Batch would be: Kalim, Idia, Malleus

List of Villains interconnecting with each character:

Riddle = Queen of Hearts

Leona = Scar

Azul = Ursula Riddle Part one

─────❅───── Riddle:

He didn't even notice that his knights kept a close eye on every exchange between you two, although short, there lingers a feeling of longing, especially on your part, the way you looked at their queen definitely wasn’t normal; but Riddle wasn’t normal either, he was too lenient on you. You spilled his favorite tea accidentally, he didn’t get mad, instead, he sighed and had another one made while you apologized profusely to him while patting his shirt with a napkin, the knights were sure they saw their majesty blush!

“I’m telling you man! He’s acting weird!” Ace complained, hugging his pillow while his whole body ached, Riddle went way too harsh on their training, and it got him to run another 20 laps after their usual 10 laps just because he saw him idly chatting with Deuce!

“You’re not wrong, whenever they’re around he seems to be more chill than usual” Deuce said, crossing his arms while he flopped on his bed, his body screamed to slumber but his mind was awake. “Do you think your highness might be…” his thought wandered, snapping out when Ace laughed, “you think he’s smitten?” he finished the sentence, silence filled the room with Deuce’s head working overtime, he placed his hands on the back of his head while he looked at the ceiling, “I think he is”

Unfortunately, during those moments, Riddle was walking around doing rounds on each dorm room, usually this was Cater’s job, but he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering to you; thinking about you is distracting and he despised it. So, he decided to have Cater rest early, while he does the rounds himself. The moment he reached Deuce and Ace’s room, he was going to open the door till he heard the murmurs behind it, opening it up, the two still continued, Deuce stopping first stiffening up while Ace babbled his life away, not noticing that the guy that they were gossiping about was behind him.

“You should’ve seen how he stared at them when they were eating Trey’s pastries! It’s like he wanted to smoochy smooch the life out of them!”  Ace laughed, creating smooching noises, not realizing that Deuce was trying his best to signal Ace to stop”

“Oh?” the moment Riddle spoke; a chill ran through Ace’s spine. “Deuce should have seen how I stared at them when they were eating Trey’s pasties as if I wanted to smoochy smooch them?” he questioned, a vein popping on his head as fire burnt on his hand, lighting up the crooked bedroom.

“Sir- “

During that night, Ace was fortunate that he didn’t die, and only was forced to run another 50 laps and do 100 pushups till morning.

Now the reason why Riddle didn’t have Ace killed was the fact that what he said made sense; he was indeed smitten by you, drawn by a unknown force that attracted him to you, he didn’t know what it is, but it felt as if he knew you and he loved you In another world, maybe in your world he did loved you. That’s just a theory though.

While eating with him, the queen put his tea down, the sweet taste of chamomile tea lingered in his tongue, you were getting used to the comfort of the kingdom, although you still want to go back, you were still around your friends, and your boyfriend, who started treating you much better than before, even if you didn’t make any effort to tear down his walls once again.

“I have a question for you” he glanced at you, your etiquette felt familiar as well, the way you hold your tea, the way you carry yourself, it was similar to how he does it, 

“Ask away” You resumed eating your fill.

“is it possible that you might have known me in your world?”

Freezing up, you accidentally choked on some of your food, causing you to go on a coughing fit, Riddle gave you his napkin as you unconsciously took it, tapping your lips as your coughing subsided.

“Yeah…” you said, glancing down, the tablecloth looked pretty right now. “What’s my relationship with you?” he pushed, causing you to get flustered more, you didn’t answer which got him pissed, standing up he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him, it wasn’t a rough touch, but it did get you to finally look at him once again. “I won’t let you go till you answer me” he threatened, it sounded bad, but you only loved the attention he was giving you.

“Why do you ask?” pushing his buttons huh? You certainly were bold trying that on the queen of hearts, however, instead of getting mad he chuckled.

He answered though, pressing his fingers on your cheeks “Being around you has caused me to be distracted,” he noticed you looking away from him again, almost pinching your cheeks, he got your eyes back into his. “I always end up thinking about you, feeling a sense of familiarity, do you think I wouldn’t find a solution on this?”

Seriously, when he’s rough like this, it makes your heart flutter; giving up you grabbed his wrist, pushing it away from your cheeks. “You were my spouse” you confessed, placing your hands on your cheeks, rubbing them to ease up the sudden soreness; realizing that the word “Boyfriend” might not exist in this time.

Riddle’s face went beet red, just like how he is when he is angry but this time, it was all over his face all the way to his arms, he looked adorable like that.

“Spouse?! You’re my spouse?!” he asked rather forcibly, trying to confirm it for the second time as you nodded.

When he calmed down, he sat down on his chair, pushing his hair back while he slumped on his chair “Why didn’t you tell me this in the first place?” you fixed your position on your chair while playing with your fingers. “I don’t think you would have believed me, Your Highness” he raised his hand, effectively cutting you off as he sat up straight as well.

“From now on, you will call me Riddle, or whatever nickname you think of” a privilege that only you have, how lucky you are.

“You accept it?” you asked, surprised how fast he took in the information, you were thinking of a few more resistances and doubts on your part, but Riddle only stared at you, face unreadable. “It explained everything I felt clearly, I am smitten for you”

The way he worded it caused you to snort, making him jolt in surprise, glaring at you as he felt his cheeks heat up again, “Why are you laughing! Am I wrong?” he asked, wanting to shut you up. “I’m sorry, it's just” you continued to stifle a laugh. “It’s funny when you say smitten, like some old man” Honestly, he should have put his unique magic around your neck, but it was useless on a quirkless person like you.

Although he should have minded the fact you just insulted him; seeing you smile like that, he guessed sacrificing his dignity was fine just so he gets to see you smile, it made him lose all the embarrassment and anger towards you.

Leona's Part

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Hey lovelies!!

Did you know that @bokettochild graduated college??? Did you know that she’s awesome and deserves to be celebrated and have her tumblr family celebrate with her??? Because she 100% does.

So! I’m declaring a graduation party post for Ketto! Reblog this post, tag Ketto, and send her some love/accolades. ❤️ I’ve got a few gifts for her from some of us!

Here’s some art from @nancyheart11!

And some art from @kikker-oma!

And here's a gift from me :D

Lon Lon Ranch had been lovely. It really had. But Legend wasn’t accustomed to staying in one place for too long, and seeing a Hero of Courage settled into such domesticity was…

The veteran sighed, crossing his arms irritably.

At least they were done. A part of him felt bad even thinking that, but he was too annoyed and tired to worry about it much. Malon was wonderful, and he would love to visit again, but… whatever. He woke up irritated today, he was sore and hurting and wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone.

When the sailor bounced over and started talking excitedly to him, Legend did his best to make an exception for the kid. He didn’t have to speak much when Wind was around anyway - the youngest Link usually did enough talking for the whole group.

As Wind started showing Legend his seashell collection, however, the veteran’s patience started to wear thin. His acknowledgements grew shorter by the second, and when the sailor paused to rifle through his bag, Legend pat the kid’s back and walked away to just get some distance.

Which was then taken away from him by Wild stepping in his path. “Hey Vet, I had an idea about your fire rod–”

“No,” Legend immediately said dully. “You’re enough of a pyromaniac. You’re not touching it.”

“Well, technically the captain has it now–”

“And I can take it from him whenever I want. He’s borrowing it.”

“Long-term borrowing,” Warriors pointed out with a smirk as he waved the rod. “Thanks again for that, though.”

Legend waved his hand dismissively, stepping around Wild.

“Hey, I found it!” Wind chirped cheerily, completely missing the fact that Legend was desperately trying to be alone.

“I don’t care,” the elder Hero finally snapped. Wind’s brow furrowed in exasperation and the kid huffed.

Warriors rolled his eyes. “You’re already not a morning person, are you not an evening person either? Is there any time you’re not a grouch?”

Legend felt his ire bubbling more. “Not everyone can babble aimlessly for two hours like you can.”

“What’s eating you up?” Warriors asked, his face pinching in annoyance.

“You are! Anything is! I’m just tired, damn it, aren’t I allowed to be tired?” Legend finally snapped before pointing accusingly at Sky. “Sky’s always tired and nobody gets on him for it!”

The area quieted, most of the boys looking in his direction. Legend regretted saying it the instant he did. Sky’s exhaustion was both a point of contention and a point of concern to many in the group, most notably Sky himself.

Feeling even worse now, the veteran stormed out of the camp, ignoring Wind’s call.

They had traveled fairly far in the day since they’d departed Lon Lon Ranch. A portal has fed into a bright, forested area, and they’d cut their path through hills until they hit the base of a mountain and had settled for the day. With fresh energy within his body, fueled by frustration and an ache he couldn’t put words to, Legend traipsed up a set of stone stairs that overlooked the forest sloping down the mountainside. He traipsed onward, foliage and sticks snapping in his wake, birdsong echoing in the air alongside the distant call of fairy magic. The air cooled the higher he climbed, his face flushed and stinging by the time he emerged from the dense woods.

The vague path he’d been following bled into a wide opening, the peak of the mountain, a place of harshly cut stone and constant winds and a view of the world below. He climbed the rock a little ways before sliding into a seated position, the wind settling a bit as crickets heralded the oncoming dusk.

Legend sighed.

He… hadn’t meant to snap like that, but by the triforce it wasn’t like he hadn’t been trying to hold himself together.

There was the sound of a foot slipping on rock, and Legend reached for his blade automatically when he turned and saw Sky.

The veteran hero froze, unsure what to expect. The Skyloftian was huffing a little, clearly winded, but trying to keep it quiet as he followed Legend’s path up the steep rocks. Eventually, he settled beside Legend with a little smile.

“Sorry for the captain,” Sky offered after a moment. “He means well, but he pushes too much sometimes.”

Sky had followed him all the way up here to apologize for someone else? Legend’s annoyance grew, but it died just as easily. He didn’t have energy to be upset about this anymore. He wanted to be alone, he wanted comfort, he wanted isolation, he didn’t know what he wanted.

“No, it’s…”

It’s more than that. He knew it was. Spending too much time at the ranch… it…

It reminded him of everything he didn’t have. Everything he could’ve had if he hadn’t lost it. And maybe it was stupid to feel that way, especially when he did enjoy adventuring so much, but…

But sometimes it just hurt.

Sky watched him for a little while, body relaxing as he had time to catch his breath. Legend didn’t know what to say.

“Do you miss home?” Sky asked.

Legend huffed. “Not much to miss. Besides, I’m on a new quest. I don’t think about home much.”

The elder Link’s brow furrowed slightly at the words, and then Sky grew pensive, staring out at the view in front of them. A falcon flew across the way, gliding by their line of vision as it let the wind carry it effortlessly.

“I didn’t want to be a Hero,” Sky said softly, making Legend stare at him. The crickets filled the silent void that followed before the knight continued, “It didn’t make sense that it was me. I was the lazy one, the guy who was always tired and daydreaming. I didn’t really have a direction or plan for anything. I just… coasted through life.”

Legend watched him, unsure what to say about the situation and still too caught in his own head to offer words anyway. Sky smiled softly, his eyes distant. “But the goddess had other plans. It’s… comforting to know we all have paths laid out for us, and it’s fun figuring out where we fit in with the world around us, you know?”

Sighing, the veteran hero nodded, gaze drifting to the valley below. He puffed out his chest a little. “It’s an honor to be a Hero. I’m thankful for that honor.”

“Yes,” Sky agreed, though the lilt in his tone indicated there was more to it. “But your path has sucked.”

This startled a laugh out of Legend, harsh and bitter and surprisingly vulnerable. The veteran hero hiccupped and covered his faux pas with a little quip. “That wasn’t the most eloquent way to phrase it.”

Sky shrugged with a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not really an eloquent guy. But I can tell when there’s more to things than people say.”

His friend looked him in the eye, eyes seeming to bore into his soul. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Legend was held hostage in the gaze, words caged in his chest alongside his breath.

His uncle. Marin. He’d lost many on his journeys. He’d been isolated, hurt, terrified.

His breath released shakily, shoulders slumping as he looked at his lap, breaking the hold Sky had on him. “.....Yeah.”

The crickets chirped gently as a breeze brushed by them, cooling the hot flush of tears threatening to spill. Legend closed his eyes a moment, letting the wind carry him, feeling his hair tickle his face.

Sky’s hand was gentle on his back. “It’s… okay not to be okay sometimes, you know.”

The words were so simple. Ridiculously simple. Stupidly simple. Legend bit his lip.

He truly did love being a hero, he truly did love being able to help others. Why wasn’t that enough? He didn’t need to let everything else phase him.

It’s okay not to be okay sometimes.

Legend hiccupped. Folded in on himself. Shuddered.

And then he cried.

It was embarrassing, really, and at first he tried to downplay it. The hiccups and sobs tire out of him in startled gasps, but the more he tightened into a ball and tried to muscle through it, the gentler Sky’s hold became.

Legend tried to snap at Sky to lay off and leave him be, and all that came out was a loud hiccup that caught him so off guard he had to laugh at it. Sky took it as an invitation, pulling him sideways so his head settled on the knight’s shoulder, and Legend couldn’t stop the tears and desperate gasps that escaped him.

Sky’s head relaxed over Legend’s, his body warm at the veteran’s side. He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t have to. Legend cried until he only had little pathetic hiccups remaining, and the younger Link sniffled, grumbling as he pulled a handkerchief out of his pouch.

Legend blew his nose and had a snippy halfhearted remark at the tip of his tongue before he sighed and pulled away, letting himself be vulnerable a moment longer. “Thanks. I… thanks.”

Sky’s smile was as soft as the clouds overhead, eyes watching him carefully. “You’re welcome. Want to head back?”

The air grew chillier by the moment, and though Legend probably would prefer to stay up here, he knew the others would start to worry. Warriors and Twilight would probably go searching for them soon. He took a breath of the mountain air and let the wind dry his tears, and then he nodded.

When they returned to the camp, everyone was waiting in various states of worry or curiosity. Wind offered a small hello, and Legend smiled at the youngest member, reassuring him that his earlier outburst was not the sailor’s fault.

The veteran hero hugged himself a little, not caring for all the scrutiny he was receiving and definitely not knowing how to backtrack on his earlier outburst. He didn’t have to, though - everyone settled into a routine, worry abated by Sky’s smile and nod. The team huddled around the fire for dinner, a quiet cheer bubbling from Link to Link in the form of snippets of conversations. 

Wind flopped onto the ground with a laugh. “You should’ve seen the captain and the rancher, they were about ready to arm wrestle over who was gonna find you two!”

“Arm wrestle?” Sky asked with a laugh as he slipped his sailcloth off.

“The old man suggested it because they kept trying to one up each other,” Hyrule explained with a smile. “The captain would say it was his responsibility to make sure you were ok and then Rancher would say he was the better tracker and it went on for like forever.”

Four silently laid out some blankets for a softer seating area, and he and Sky settled with a space in between as the knight plopped his cloak over his friend.

As Legend settled beside Sky, comfortably wrapped in his sailcloth, he accepted Wild’s hearty stew and sighed with a little smile. “Thanks. I… I don’t deserve you guys.”

“Ah, yes, you are correct, you absolutely do not deserve me,” Warriors tutted with a false air of superiority and a wink. “But I shall grace you with my presence nonetheless.”

Legend shoved the captain with a roll of his eyes, chuckling despite the maneuver, and the group shared a hearty meal that warmed his heart and soul alongside his stomach.

[theweasleysredhair]

Baby Love [F.W.]

Character: Fred Weasley

Word Count: 1693

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Looking after Teddy Lupin makes Fred decide he wants a baby of his own with you.

Tags: @gracemayhateyou @criminalyetminimal @firewhisky-kisses @obsessedwithrandomthings @angelinathebook @iprobablyshipit91 @potterverseimagine @slytherineheir @kpopgirlbtssvt @rexorangecouny @mytreec @hemmoporro @thisismysketchbook @acciotwinz @shadowsinger11 @aaannabbanana @lestersglitterglue @anyasthoughts @lxncelot @harrypotter289 @wand3ringr0s3 @ickle-ronniekins @sehunasbitch @cryingforcrystalpepsi @kashishwrites @girl-next-door-writes @susceptible-but-siriusexual @crissdanvers @whizbangs-78 @heart-of-tempered-steel @oh-for-merlins-sake | message or send an ask to be added/removed!

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: just a reminder that this is a queued post! i’m currently taking a small break from tumblr (should be back by the end of the week though!) as i am not in a good place at the moment. feel free to continue sending in asks and messages whilst i’m away - i’ll answer as soon as i’m back online! i shall also catch up on things that i’ve been tagged in and fics i’ve missed then as well! ❤️❤️ to the requester - i hope you enjoy my love! 💕

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

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“Never seen him so content,” you hummed to Hermione, a smile playing at your lips as you nodded over to Fred, who was sitting on a nearby couch in the living room of the Burrow, where everyone had gathered for Christmas - the second one since the Battle of Hogwarts - holding a tiny toddler, who was giggling at Fred’s attempts to make him laugh, hair turning a bright blue as he threw his arms into the air.

Hermione laughed, “He’s always loved Teddy.” “He reminds him of Lupin I reckon,” you replied, not having to mention the reason why, considering the small boy looked just like him. Fred, you knew, felt indebted to Lupin, since he was the one to bring George back to the Burrow when he lost his ear - kept him safe after the incident, travelling back quickly to save him. You knew that was one of the reasons Fred offered to look after Teddy so often - that and the fact that the baby adored him.

“Are you not thinking about children yet?” Hermione asked you, breaking you from your thoughts, “I’d have thought with the way he can never keep his hands off you that you’d be pregnant by now.”

You let out a laugh, knowing she wasn’t exactly wrong - Fred always had at least an arm around you or a hand on your waist, always pulling you into his lap and kissing you when he got the chance. And he’d only gotten worse since you were married a few months ago, thoroughly enjoying the new house you’d moved into after the wedding and all the privacy it gave you both - George had learnt to knock on the door when he arrived rather than apparating in immediately, after finding you both in a rather compromising position on the kitchen counter one time.

“Well, I mean obviously we’d love to have a baby... it’s just, well we both got hurt pretty badly in the battle and each had to deal with nearly dying,” you spoke, earning a sympathetic look as thoughts of the battle crossed both your minds.

Fred had nearly been hit by a wall falling in an explosion - he had been knocked unconscious and the moment you saw him laying on the floor of the Great Hall, you’d assumed the worst, until Molly had assured you with a watery nod that he was okay. Then when the battle recommenced, you’d had your leg crushed by falling debris, not being able to dodge spells fast enough, meaning you were nearly hit with the killing curse, had George not have pulled you out of the way in time.

The battle overall took its toll on you both, causing flashbacks and nightmares for the first year or so, only just beginning to ease when you and Fred decided to get married a couple of months back, wanting to make things official after years of dating.

“We just haven’t had the time to plan for a baby. Plus, we’re still really young,” you continued, shrugging your shoulders a little before turning your gaze to Fred, who was preoccupied by baby Teddy, pulling faces at him and playing peek-a-boo, not being able to help the smile that graced your lips, “But maybe having a baby would be a good thing.”

“He’d be a great dad,” Hermione grinned, seeing the way your eyes lit up as you watched your husband cradling the toddler in his arms, even as Teddy decided to grab a hold of Fred’s ginger locks, pulling at them happily.

“The best,” you nodded with a content smile. You excused yourself from Hermione as you saw Teddy reaching out in your direction, stuttering out what you assumed was his attempt at saying your name, clambering over Fred’s lap to get to you.

“I’m here baba, I’m right here,” you cooed, scooping the now-sandy haired toddler up into your arms and giving him a hug, his little chubby arms wrapping around you as best they could. You marvelled at how much he resembled Remus, the same tiny smile on his face.

“Be careful, he likes hair now apparently,” Fred grumbled, rubbing a patch on his head that you assumed Teddy had yanked. You laughed as you sat beside him, nudging his side a little with a wink, “I thought you liked having your hair pulled.”

“I do, but only when it’s you that does it, not when a baby does it with the intention of making me bald,” Fred replied, but despite himself he was smiling at Teddy, who had curled up in your lap and was babbling nonsense to you both.

You glanced up, noticing a presence watching you, finding Molly stood in the doorway to the kitchen, holding a spatula and practically cooing at the sight of her son and his wife looking after a baby.

“Oh you remind me of me and Arthur when we had our Bill,” she gushed, waving the spatula in your direction. You smiled at her warmly and shifted the toddler a little, Fred holding his tiny hand in his much larger one.

“I’m assuming Bill was a lot calmer than the rest of them, eh Molly,” you laughed, watching as she nodded immediately, nearly sighing as she thought back to her other children.

“Indeed. Charlie was a nightmare, always finding creatures from the garden and claiming them as his pets - once found a Doxy in his room that he’d been keeping from me, if you can believe it! An absolute pest, had to get rid of it as soon as I could. Percy was a good child, very smart. Almost as good as Bill. And then came you two,” she pointed the spatula at Fred who mocked innocence and pointed to himself in shock, “Who were nightmares. Then there was Ron and Ginny, but they were almost easy compared to the twins.”

Fred grinned smugly, “We enjoy keeping you on your toes, mother dearest, what can we say.”

Molly hummed disapprovingly at him, “I can’t wait until you both have a baby - for your sake, Y/n, dear, I hope they’re like Bill. For your sake, Fred, I hope they’re like you were, an absolute terror.”

Fred’s jaw dropped comically, absent-mindedly taking Teddy from you as he crawled on his lap, jogging him up and down on his knee, “Terror? Me? As if. I’m the light of your life. Besides, it’s awfully forward of you to think we’re having a child, Mum.”

“Oh look at you both with him,” Molly gestured pointedly at the toddler, who was happily playing with Fred’s jumper, “You’re parents already, you just need a baby of your own.”

With that, she turned to head back into the kitchen, as Fred turned to you, wiggling his eyebrows, “What d’ya reckon, eh love? Want a baby with me?”

“Already picked the names,” you joked, taking Teddy back from him and lifting him up in the air, making him squeal in delight, waving his little fists around.

Fred grinned, then found himself watching the way you were holding Teddy, the way you were cradling him so gently, making him smile and laugh. He bit his lip, imagining what it would be like with his own baby - one with his ginger hair, his nose, and your eyes and lips. One that was half him and half you.

All through the rest of the gathering, all through playing games with his family, talking about how Bill and Fleur were expecting their baby in April, and how Hermione was doing working in the Ministry, all he was thinking about was starting a family with you, watching as you cared for Teddy, to give Harry and Ginny and few hours alone before they took him back for the evening.

And as he sat, arm slung around your shoulder, Teddy now asleep across both of your laps, he decided he wanted his own baby with you.

Later that night, after you’d returned Teddy to his godfather, you and Fred retreated back to the room you were staying in in the Burrow. You lay on the bed, watching your husband move around the room, seemingly deep in his own mind as you watched him bump into the corner of the cabinet twice, and nearly trip over the rug, before you spoke, “What’s on your mind, Freddie?”

He paused in place, having removed his trousers and instead stood in a shirt and his boxers, “Just thinking about Teddy... and you... and how good you are with him.”

“You’re pretty good with him too, you know, he loves you. Kept asking for his ‘Unca Fwed’ when I gave him back to Harry,” you laughed a little, shaking your head.

Fred grinned, “He’s pretty cute, huh? Been wondering what it’d be like to have him around all the time. Except not him, but a different baby. Our baby, to be precise.”

“You want a baby?”

Fred nodded, almost shyly as he pulled his shirt off and threw it over to you, you swapping the shirt you were wearing for his, happily breathing in the smell of him clinging to the fabric.

You smiled at him, holding your arms out to him as he crawled up the bed until his body hovered above yours, leaning on his forearms on either side of your head.

Wrapping arms around neck, you leaned up to brush your lips against his, “I’d love to have a baby with you, Freddie.”

He nudged his nose against yours, humming contently, “Yeah?” “Yeah,” you confirmed with a soft smile, kissing him gently, “Imagine, we could have one by next Christmas, or one on the way.”

“Maybe babies. Multiples run in the family, you know,” he murmured, moving to place kisses along your jawline and you felt him grin against your skin.

“I’m not having twins,” you deadpanned, shaking your head at him fondly as you scoffed out a laugh. Fred pulled back a little, still grinning back at you cheekily as he gently rocked his hips against yours, making your head fall back against the pillow,

“Oh yeah? We’ll see about that, love.”

[tisalovestory]

Candace, hello lovely!! I don't know if you write fkr him, but from your prompt list, can I get the "two characters cramming together on the couch" (it was in the first section!) with Porco Galliard from AoT? 🥺

And if not, then can I get with my favorite Miya, Osamu? 😊💞

A/N: finally having the time (and brainpower, let's be real) to write after a whole damn month and it's been so long that even tumblr's ui had changed..

Pairing: Miya Osamu x reader

Word count: 1149

Warning: my writing is rusty ok don’t judge shush

two characters cramming onto a couch together because they let their friend have the bed and they don’t want to sleep apart from each other

The clock ticked impatiently at the corner of your small living room, reminding you with each passing second that you were cramped on your tiny sofa with your limbs twisted and spine curved when there was a perfectly fine bed just a few steps away.

“We should have bought a bigger couch.”

The vibration of Osamu’s voice rumbled through your body as he spoke, his eyes opened and staring at the ceiling, wide awake in the middle of the night just as you were.

As if any properly developed adult, which you two were, could fall asleep in the posture you were in right now.

Fitting two adults horizontally onto a battered loveseat was difficult enough to begin with, not to mention that your boyfriend was massive in mass and in height. His arms dangling off the armrest was not enough to fit his poorly bent legs onto the seats, arching awkwardly to make place for your frame as you practically laid on top of him with your neck crooked so there could be some support for your poor head on his (likely cramping) shoulder.

“What you meant to say,” he winced when you elbowed him in the rib as you adjusted your posture and you apologetically patted him, “is that we should have just left your brother downstairs.”

Osamu would never admit that he was secretly glad about Atsumu’s choice to choose a team based near their dear home town of Hyogo, though everyone knew or simply assumed he was. It takes less than 2 hours to go from Osaka to Hyogo, a factor that had made going back and forth extremely easy. It meant that Osamu could simply close his shop for half a day in order to make it to his brother’s games, or that Atsumu wouldn’t even have to miss practice the next morning if he needed a pair of ears to complain to. It also comes with the other jackals tagging along after a good match to fill up his shop counters, which he was always pleased about. Athletes eat a lot, it was always a good day for his numbers when the group of men with appetites larger than a whole black hole came over.

But the convenience also came with its repercussions, like how easy it was for him to just let the twin stay over in a possessed moment of kindness. 

You knew it was a bad sign when the noises kept going on and on from the shop below your tiny apartment far past the regular closing time, piecing together the context of the party happening from the occasional roars and whooping you could hear. They had probably won something big, and someone most likely brought alcohol. Your suspicions were confirmed when your boyfriend finally came up with Atsumu swung over his shoulder like a sack of deflated rice, the blonde still babbling nonsense through drunken hiccups when he got dragged through your door.

As of right now, while you two were risking your mid-20s bones and muscles, the other Miya, who had the best physique out of the three of you, was snoring on top of your queen sized bed. 

“I don’t want to imagine what would happen if he throws up on my wooden counter next morning,” Osamu rubbed his temple at the thump in his head just from the thought, “I should have let him sleep on the couch.”

“You should.”

“Hm,” he mumbled, before it was replaced with a hiss when the numbness on his calf started spreading upwards. He tried to move it, but pitifully realised that half of your weight was resting on his leg.

You sighed, “I knew we would regret it one day when we got this old couch for free online instead of pitching in for a new one.”

“In our past selves’ defence,” Osamu chuckled, “it was free.”

All the listings for free furniture were the saving grace to your emptied wallets after you finally paid your first deposit onto the two-story unit that was now Onigiri Miya and the cozy space above you called home. A bare mattress that was thrown out by a fresh graduate at a nearby university (you let it sit under the sun for a whole day before taking it into your house, god knows what it had been through before it ended up in your hands), some cups and bowls that looked terribly mismatched, a few unnecessary pot plants you picked up while scrolling (none of them was still alive, rip), your old dining table that wobbled when someone sat down next to it, and lastly, the little couch that had a yellow stain on the inside of its left armrest. You two had carried the love seat by hand because the thought of paying someone to do it for you made your wallet ached, taking pauses around each block when your arms were starting to go out of any sense of touch from the soreness.

You collapsed onto the bare cushions of the couch the moment you finally got it through the door (after carrying it up your stairs, mind you), with you crashing right on top of him in a position that oddly reminisced the one you were in right now.

Surprisingly enough, the old couch was the only thing you had kept out of all the things you fished out of other people’s discards, though you could definitely afford to change it out now. You had bought a cover to hide the springs that were poking out from the sides and hid the stain skillfully with a handful of cushions. It had served you just fine, providing enough room and support for the two of you when Osamu had his arm slung over your shoulder over the midnight replay of 90s Mary-Sue period dramas.

But even with all its contributions, you had never wanted to say goodbye to it as much as you did now when your shoulders were slowly giving in.

Osamu seemed to notice your struggle at trying to free your arm and you let out a soft yelp when you were suddenly hoisted up by your hips, now laying flat on top of him. 

“Your back will not be happy about this,” you mused, but only shifted to settle comfortably on top with him as your makeshift mattress.

He hummed, resting his palm on your stomach as he rolled his neck before throwing his head back. “Sh,” he hushed playfully, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he closed his eyes, “just sleep.”

He knew you rolled your eyes at him, despite not seeing it in the dark. But you complied anyways, snuggling closer to him until your breaths were all that filled the room.

Then you parted your lips again.

“Let’s start looking at new couches tomorrow.”

“Hm.”

“After we kicked Atsumu out.”

“Agreed.”

[samuclit]

Love Foolish

miya atsumu x reader

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, mature, a little smut (define little on your own), 7.8K words

Summary: Miya Atsumu didn't realise that he was actually counting the days he spent with you while being your boyfriend. The step-process to how your relationship with him rekindles every time a new day begins was not as apparent as it seems to be, but he sure knew that the dreaded day when it comes to an end will never come.

This is an old piece that I worked on last year...I am terribly sorry for the way I post this fic I am not good with tumblr yall this is harder than my degree 

........................

Day 153

Atsumu was exhausted. He just got back from training with the college team for a few weeks already. He needs to catch up with the college team even though the time he spent away was used for his training with the MSBY Black Jackals team. He was advised by his family members, team coach and his friends that he should not miss out on any practice without a valid reason and should diligently claim his spot on both teams with the most outstanding effort and attitude so he followed, believed that this is for the best in order to build his volleyball career he was always so passionate about since he was in middle school. If only Osamu joins him, he thinks it won’t be as draining as it is right now.

Everyone in college knows Miya Atsumu, he is too perfect. The handsome look, tall and built figure, his diligence in both studies and shaping his career, to top it all off he is charming and is a ladies’ man. He could make every girl fall for him the instant he flashes his smirk that has been scientifically proven to be a bait for everyone in this universe. One small talk he could get girls on his bed, spending the whole night snogging off each other and leaving them whenever he got annoyed with the sudden disturbance. You happen to be one of the girls who got in his bed, goes on several dates with him, but this time you were one of the people who last longer than a week, and then a month and few more months after that. He assumes and waits for you to be the one ending the relationship but it won’t even come, and he is already tired of waiting.

So, he makes you tired. He doesn't want anything to be on his way at all, and you in the equation is making him disturbed at some times. During the first few weeks of dating, you often invite him for a date at the coffee shop which he obliges only for the reason to not break your feelings even though he has some tasks which are more important at hand. You are nice, but he isn’t. He told Suna that you deserve better. 

It has also been roughly two weeks since he last talked to you, and deep in his heart he kind of wants your nagging presence around him, just to distract him from the truckload of stress he’s carrying on his shoulders. So he texted you.

You: [Name], are ya coming or not. Been thinking of binging that Netflix series you’ve been babbling about.

[Name]: Ah sorry, it’s girls’ night with Midori and her gf. 

You: I see. Have fun. 

Seen.

That’s weird. You said it yourself that you wanted to binge on the weekends with him, after he finished with this practice for the week, and also he thinks that’s just you trying to make up with him after your first argument with him. It is...nobody’s fault, he thinks. He doesn’t want to blame himself and you, partially because you were really upset that day that you raised your voice and he didn’t chase you after you ran out of the apartment. It is just a silly argument. He doesn't want to think about it that much. 

As he took a shower and dressed himself in a fresh new pair of t-shirt and black sweatpants, he plopped himself on the sofa and went through Netflix to find something worth watching. He saw the show you wanted to watch ; Pretty Little Liars. Ah it’s not even a Netflix series, it’s just a series which is available on Netflix. Seems like he wasn’t even attentive to what you said. 

Before he falls asleep, he walks down the memory lane, to remember how exactly you and Atsumu could last this long in a relationship.

Day 0

The party seems to be a hit! His seniors on the volleyball team joined hands with the football team to conduct a party to celebrate post-sports festival of Tokyo U that happened for a week long and the party is held at the dorms outside of the campus so the board of education won’t meddle, with the promise that there aren’t drugs involved. Which is okay, the athletes are supposed to stay away from drugs and they’re disciplined enough to consider their life decisions. 

He was simply just hanging around in the living room of the dorm, which is a terrace house in a neighbourhood a few kilometres away, talking to his friends, Suna and Komori, who are his teammates in the college team. Komori used to go to the same Youth Camp with Atsumu so they knew each other since then. “Huh, sick party. I didn’t think there would be too many people here.” Komori said as he chugs down his cold beer, swaying a little after he finishes with a slightly long chug. “Senpai said just the athletes of the college are invited, but it seems like the whole campus crashed together. Lunatics.” Atsumu said as he plopped down on the bean bag and leaned his head back. Suna calls out.

“Oi, Midori is here. I invited her.” Atsumu is familiar with Midori, he has never been close with her but he knows of her since they went to the same high school together. The three pairs of eyes went towards the door together to greet Midori, with you tailing behind her. “Hey, glad ya made it!” Suna lunges forward and grabs Midori in a hug. “Yeah, cool place, I’m sorry I don’t have a plus one to bring with so I just drag my friend along. Hey, this is [Name]. Go say hi and be friends!” Midori pushed the other girl, which he heard to be [Name], also a familiar name. “Oh wait...you guys must have not have known about her...we went to the same school man...” Midori pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. It is sad that not many people know about small girls like [Name] that much. 

Indeed, you went to the same school and you’re in a completely different league than Atsumu, he was and still is the famous athlete that has the entire girls’ population wrapped around his fingers. You’re around the circle of...top scorers who are active in volunteers and some other stuff Atsumu was not into. “Oh, is she another one of your hockey teammates?” you continue hiding behind Midori’s taller frame. Midori pulled you away and hugged your waist, giving support. “Come on now, babe say hi, they’re our friends” you glared at her with a smug look. “Hye, it’s [Name]. I’m not an athlete, I’m a political science major, pleasure to meet ya” your eyes tried to glance from Suna to Komori and to Atsumu but you averted your eyes away from him as soon as it landed on him. You look cute in just a rock concert t-shirt with black jeans shorts and plain converse. Classic party look, but you are not the type to go to parties because...assignments and stress are getting through you  which explains why you’re all fidgety. Midori knows there’s more to that, cause you’re a very wild extrovert at some time.

“Hey, enjoy the party, drinks and snacks are down there, the toilet is on another end, help yerself.” Atsumu pats on your shoulder and moves past you to greet his other friends who crashed the party. You’re petrified, to say the least and moved quick on your heels to head to the bathroom for some reality check. The environment is overwhelming. 

Atsumu gets tired easily even after downing a can of beer but he isn’t exactly drunk. He is just tired with the lots of conversations and the girls from other courses trying to talk to him, wanting the conversation in a bedroom which he said no to, he is a responsible man. He is not going to do it with them when in their drunken stupor. However, his endless denials are stopped with a sudden disturbance right in front of him.

Midori is on a couch, with a girl and was playing with her hair and occasionally rubbing her thigh and before they closed in someone threw a beer cup at Midori. “What the hell? Leave me alone!” Midori turned his body to see a bulked up guy whose name Atsumu doesn’t remember behind the couch, looming over the two figures sitting on the couch. It’s going to get ugly. 

“What the fuck, you leave us alone! Why the hell are homos here. Get out!”  Midori and the poor girl trembles in fear and Atsumu wants to blow a kick so bad but he can’t move because of the girls that are around him. Before he tried to push the girls away, he saw you moving towards him, taking away the beer can he has in his hands. “I’m sorry I’m taking this!” Your eyes had a small fire ignited in it and he can’t help but gave away his beer can, and then he saw you walking up on the couch and on to the head rest, spit into the beer and pours the beer all over the homophobic guy who slandered your friend. The guy was drenched and screamed because the beer was icy cold and it came to contact with his skin that got heated from way too much alcohol consumed. 

“Oh, I am very sorry, I was convinced that this big hunk of muscle is a trash can!” you screamed with an evil laughter and the whole party laughed and cackled at the sight of the giant asshole from Engineering talking shit about the woman adored by the majority of campus. Midori is your best friend, a very kind, beautiful  and valid lesbian friend of yours. You would do anything to protect her from the touch of homophobic devils that would insult her every now and then. It has been happening more recently after she got out of the closet, even when she was inside all this time, you have always given her tons of support and protection because it’s just something about you. Midori was already smiling and got herself up away from the sofa with the girl she was with, hands holding hers tightly. 

“You punk! Are ya crazy? Do ya want me to kill ya like I kill your friend here?” your figure who had one leg propped on the head rest while the other on the couch went tense and is about to fall and the nasty asshole grabbed you by the neck, having you lifted in the air and no one helped to stand against him except Midori who was pulling your body before the guy fully grasped your entire neck in his hands. Before he even pressed harder on your throat, Atsumu landed a punch on his face, making himself knocked down on the floor. You already fell flat on the couch, trying to regain your breath. He warns the guy off and he immediately leaves after. 

“Shit shit, are you okay?” Atsumu kneels on the floor to check up on you, who were lying on the couch, still coughing out and trying to calm down. Midori ran to get some water for you. “I’m fine, fine, where's Midori? Is she okay?” Midori hit you in the arm. “Idiot. I am fine but look at you, I told you I’m alright, if you give them attention and piss them off they will harm you, look what happened.” Midori cries and hugs you. Atsumu checked up on your face, saw tiny drops on the edge of your eye which got wiped away the instant Midori wrapped her arms around you. “I told you  I will always protect you okay, I promised you that” Midori looked at your face again and was still sobbing. She turns towards Atsumu who stood by them. Suna and Komori arrived in the space after making sure the guys had run off. The party went back to normal and it’s chaos again. 

“Thank you, Atsumu, if it weren’t for you, I don’t know what would happen to the both of us.” The girl from before is rubbing her hands on Midori’s back trying to calm her down. “No, [Name] did the most fight, I only come in when it gets physical. I let ya know when I see that guy again I am going to beat the living shit out of him. Nasty jackass.” Atsumu’s rage calms down when he sees you and Midori laugh, finally he makes a safe space for you and her. After some minutes of calming down and talking and giggling Midori takes the cue to leave. “I think I need to go now, need to take some air, you should, too, babe. Love you” Midori hugged and left with the girl she was with the entire time during the party.

Atsumu has long left you and Midori alone when you were busy talking to her, so he goes away somewhere to talk with some of the boys from the football club. They heard something about how that guy is a maniac and has been expressing his hate crimes for several years now, basically a loser and Atsumu thinks his sucker punch is something he could take pride in. After he saw Midori take off with the girl he saw you heading towards the door that linked to the backyard. More people were there, some were laying on the ground doing some unnecessarily lewd stuff that Atsumu does not want to remember.

He saw you taking a seat on one of the stools that was set up for guests to sit. He brought a can of beer, intended to give you. As he approaches you were rubbing around the area on your throat which the bully from before had pressed on. You were still in pain. “Hey, needa drink?” Atsumu hands over the beer while he sits down on the stool next to you. “Ah, I’m sorry I don’t...drink around guys. Trust issues.” Atsumu furrowed his eyebrows and he finally got what you were trying to say. “Oh, I totally get it, I’m sorry.” You were a flustered mess. You didn’t intend to actually...reject a kind offer from him but it’s a strange new place and strange new environment, though you knew Atsumu from high school to be quite a decent person that you– “[Name]? Are ya okay? Ya were about to say something earlier?” “Oh, yeah. You don’t have to apologise, we can just go for drinks some other times'' you let out a small laugh and he smiles. Awkward.

“Ya don’t have to worry about that guy, I heard someone is going to report him to the dean. He’ll be out in no time” you smirked. “Good! Midori must be happy”. The both of you laughed and the  conversation continued randomly, topics about his volleyball activities and you popping in some random thoughts about life to him, it makes him feel weird at first but he picks up after quite some time.

And the night goes with you spending your night with him on his small bed in the apartment he shared with his other friends. Kisses are littered all over your body and Atsumu leads you through your first intimate session with so much ease and gentleness. He left an especially passionate kiss on the neck that tells the stories of your fight and trauma, hoping that he could kiss it away and replace it with the memories of your first. “Are ya really sure about this?” Atsumu asked at one point when you were making out with him on his lap just right after he got you in his room. “Please, do what you want” and Atsumu continues to ravish you and pulls on every article that trapped your beautiful untouched body. 

The morning he woke up, you were sleeping soundly, despite the uncovered chest you had on display cause you fell asleep after the second round of fucking you had no chance to clean up or put on a shirt. The messy hair and arousing look you had on aside, you look too peaceful to be on someone’s bed, someone who you have known for a long time but have only gotten close from an impromptu encounter so Atsumu threw the plans of getting out of bed aside and continues watching the small details on your face. He would pick up the falling strands of your hair and tucks it behind your ear, trailing his fingers on the swollen lips you had after making out with him the entire night. He enjoys your presence. He likes it, being with you, so this is all worth it. 

As your eyes fluttered open, squinting because of the bright sun, which was now covered by Atsumu’s hands to help you get back to sleep without the disturbance. You woke up anyway. “Atsumu, what are ya doing?” you asked, trying to pull the blanket that barely covers your naked front. “Just letting a princess continue her peaceful sleep” you were blushing, it feels like a dream to wake up with Atsumu next to you, so you lean into him more and he tackles you under the sheets. As Atsumu closes in again, about to kiss you like he did the previous night before, your eyes widened and you pushed him away, rolling out of bed naked. You pulled the blanket to cover yourself and scrammed to find your underwear and outfit from last night. “Fuck, fuck I’m late shit I gotta go” you were clasping your bra and putting on your underwear as you continue with your series of cuss words picked up at random. “What’s going on are you okay? Was it–“ you put on your jean shorts and looked at him. “No-no I’m late to a group discussion and I am going to die I think.” You already had your phone in hand with your bag in hand running to the door. Atsumu put on his sweatshirt and training shorts in a haste, offering to give you a ride. 

“Hey, I can help ya get to yer spot with my car. Don’t have ta rush'' you gaped and mumbles thousands of gratefulness and lunges forward to hug but stopped yourself. In the car you were on a phone call with one of the people in your group and you immediately spilled the idea you had in mind in a heartbeat. Atsumu has been driving nowhere so he stops and parked his car at the parking space of the nearby McDonald’s. After several arguments and reasons to have your opinion accepted you finally heaved a relief and ended the call with another apology. 

“Yer quite a persistent one aren’tcha?” you looked at him, face messy, unclean and tired. The post-sex glow seems to not work with everyone. “Yeah, there’s an event and I’m in charge. I was so caught-off guard. Pretty sure they will kick me out if they don’t accept my idea but guess not!” you laughed and smiled gleefully. Pure satisfaction whenever people acknowledge us. Atsumu understood that much. “So...since you don’t have to go...breakfast?” Atsumu points his thumb to the back of the car, which was the entrance to the McDonald’s. “No...I stink so much...but I am hungry so....drive-thru?” Atsumu smiles and puts down the handbrake. “Sure thing, princess”.

After you both got your respective breakfast meal set, Atsumu takes off to the lake and brought you together with him to eat on the benches. Atsumu enjoys the company as much as you did. What starts off with a random conversation of how the duck is limping, to talking about the fluffiness of the poodle someone took for a walk turns into a conversation about each others’ personal lives.

“If anything, virginity is a social construct to put down women, so if you think last night is fun just because of that, I am going to berate your entire existence” you warn him, mouth full with the breakfast muffin. “Sure, what’s fun about last night is that you’re hot and I like you.” Atsumu closes in, trying to make you feel more flustered. “You...like me?” you were blushing and he guessed that his classic method works. “Can say that, I don’t usually have breakfast with people I sleep with, so I think that’s how I know.” You scoffed as his smug smile grew wider. “Oh you’re quite a cheesy one. So, this isn’t just a one time thing?” you looked over to him. He said no and continued kissing you like he meant it. 

Days after that, the dates are frequent, spending the night in his apartment is a routine, watching movies is a norm and the intimate sessions get more interesting for the past few months, he thinks he needs to tell you all about his fantasy and you told him yours and both wishes are fulfilled.

Day 150

Atsumu woke up from the nap, the movie was already finished by then. He reached for his phone which was ringing non-stop. He's going to puke his brains out. Midori was the one calling him. There are around 7 missed calls coming from Midori.

“Oi pisshead, your girlfriend’s drunk. Come and pick her up.” Atsumu looks at the time

10.50

“Didn’t last that long?” Atsumu giggles. Midori snapped. 

“I’m being serious. She gets crazier now you need to pack her up. I can’t because my girlfriend is as shit-faced drunk right now.” Midori starts to call out your name to get off the table. Whatever that happened it must have been really shitty what’s going on down there at the bar.

“Okay, just text me the address I’m on my way” Atsumu took his wallet and car keys with him, all fresh to fetch your drunk ass home. 

As soon as he arrived he stormed to the booth which you and Midori sat at. You were already lying down on the couch, fast asleep and giggling as you sleep. “Okay you’re here. I’m going home with my girlfriend so you take care of her properly.” Midori sat herself at the couch you were sleeping on. “[Name].....I’m going now so take care okay! Love you goodnight!” you were whining so loudly at her. “Nooooo....Midoriiiii-chan I am going to miss you don’t leave me” you were pouting and whining and hug Midori to prevent her from going. Atsumu stood at the side watching the mess unfold. “Your boyfriend is here to pick you up! Goodbye!” Midori dragged her girlfriend away and got out of the bar.

“Midori’s good at lying. There’s no way my boyfriend cares ‘bout me” Atsumu covers his face in shame because the other customers at the bar are looking at you. “Who are ya...are you a stranger? Can I call you Mr Stranger? You look handsome.” You giggled and Atsumu laughed at your cuteness. This is certainly a new side to you, he has never seen you turn into a giant ball of fluff before. “Okay now cmon Miss [Name] let’s get ya home.” Atsumu swooped your legs in his right hand while the other supported the small back of your body. Your eyes are still squinting which must be the reason why you can’t recognise Atsumu yet. 

“I miss my boyfriend Mr Stranger. I want to see him...please take me to see him pleassseeeee.” You buried your face in his chest and held on to the cotton string of his hoodie. “Oh yeah? Is he really that handsome?” he puts you in the passenger seat and buckles your seatbelt. “He is! His hair colour is a bit funny, Midori said it makes it look like he bathed in piss” Atsumu got that too many times already. “But in my very personal point of view, it is kind of biased, he rocks that look. He looks hot!” Atsumu blushed and proceeded to head to the driver’s seat. It’s you and your habit of expressing too many opinions again. He liked this one. He also misses your constants chit chat after a whole month of not talking to each other because of a petty argument. He admits that he misses you so much, but a jerk like him won’t admit it. He’s going to break up with you anyway.

As he continues driving he would listen to what you said about ‘your boyfriend’ and he would sometimes smirks and whispers an ‘I know’ and sometimes it is too loud you caught him in the act. The night drive seems fun with you, and he figures you are still too drunk and even with too much talking your body stays the same. You fell asleep at some point, when he is close to the apartment you resided in. He found out after quite some time that Midori moved into her girlfriend’s apartment so now you live alone. 

Even after he arrives at the apartment complex he lets you take some time to sleep, and as time passes by and it’s getting later into the night, he shakes your shoulder to wake you up. 

“Hey, [Name], we’re here.” Atsumu smiles as you yawn and stretches your limbs.

“Mr Stranger? I have a secret. Can I tell you...I’m afraid to tell anyone.” You said after some time. Atsumu had no idea what to do. So he just played along. “Yeah, I promise I will keep it.” Atsumu laughs and looks at you. 

“I think my boyfriend doesn’t love me. I kind of got the gist of it for a long time...but...now I am convinced. I think...the next time I see him, will be the last time I see him. And I–I don’t wanna” you cried immediately, you were sobbing too hard and you covered your face with the both of your palms. Atsumu is shattered especially, what you said was true. He might break it off when time comes, but seeing your heart broken and giving up the usual happy and chaotic smile and laughter you had because of the thought of breaking up with him, he felt like his heart was going to jump out of his chest. So he asked further. He needs to know more, he needs to know why. Why do you catch up to what he was thinking so fast? 

“W-why is it?” Atsumu choked on his breath. His heart was thumping so loudly, and it was beating off the charts. “He seems to not want me around...I tried my best to give him space, time for himself  but....he never wants a time wimme....and then...I-he-he don’t want to see me even when he is free”. You continue crying in the silent car, Atsumu wanted to reach your hands but he knew that would be such an asshole thing to do since he is the one causing this mess. Atsumu got out of the car and opened the door from your seat. “Hey hey let’s get you to your apartment okay?” Atsumu unbuckled the seat belt and you kept on crying, you pulled on his sweater and gripped it so tightly and wailed like a baby into his chest. He sighed and embraced you in a tight hug, calmly rubbing the small of your back trying to calm you down. 

After quite some time only the sniffles could be heard. You start talking again. “You know...I’d rather see him happy even if it means I need to break up with him. Ah I’m so dramatic for no reason. Can you help...carry me to my apartment, Mr Stranger?” you pulled away from his hug, makeup ruined and eyes red. Atsumu smiled and nodded at you. “Of course, I’ll carry you.” He carried you in a manner when he hugs your tiny body to carry you to the bed during one of those nights he needed a release. This closeness to your warm body, and the earlier event that happened of you confessing to a complete stranger about him, he is regretting it. 

Day 125

Atsumu just got home from South Korea. He was there for a training camp with the home team there because one of his coach from the MSBY Black Jackals used his connections with an old friend to conduct a camp for them to further polish the players’ skill in the said sport. It would be a great chance for him to bloom more than how he is after his successful debut as a Div. 1 League player. 

He was simply relaxing around after two days and Osamu was cooking plenty of food for the gang. Osamu invited some friends of his, and Suna brought his girlfriend with him. Komori was there too, with his cousin. When Osamu asked if he was going to invite you, Atsumu shrugged and said no, he wants to relax without you around. Even if you are around you would never go that far to make him uncomfortable. He still hasn’t called you yet even when he landed in Tokyo two days before. 

“Atsumu, didn’t ya miss yer girlfriend? Just tell her to come over.” Osamu said from the kitchen, bringing a pot of stew he made for the gang and putting it on the table. “Nah, she didn’t even know I’m in Tokyo.” Everyone in the living room looks at him. “Miya you’re kinda an asshole for that” Komori said as he passed a bowl to Suna and his girlfriend. “Cmon now don’t look at me like I’m a criminal or sumn...I just want to relax I’ll tell her later.” Atsumu scoffed and leaned his back to the sofa as he was sitting on the carpet.

“Are you...joking. She came by practice the other day, said she can’t reach you.” Sakusa said as he put down his mask aside and dug in. Atsumu knew that. He purposely ignored your text and calls and only left a message when you’re offline or when he knows you were sleeping. He doesn't want distractions. “Yer a prick, [Name]’s really nice and ya can’t see that. If ya got issues just break up already.” Suna speaks and his girlfriend agrees. “Yeah for real, if Rintarou had issues I know he is going to leave my ass in the streets. But I’m glad he has no problems. As a woman I will honestly kick you in the ass, ya know, that woman with woman solidarity.” Suna kissed his girlfriend on the cheek and Atsumu scoffed. “I know, I just don’t know the right time yet.” Komori already mumbles a series of cuss words,  Osamu and Suna sigh and Suna pulls his girlfriend back from kicking Atsumu in the face. Sakusa heard a doorbell and reached for the door now to open.

“[Name]?” Sakusa screams in shock. Speaking of the witch. Well, you’re not a witch, you’re the sweetest person ever that happens to be Atsumu’s unlucky girlfriend. “Hey Sakusa-san! Nice to see you! I brought something!” you waltzed in the door and headed to the kitchen you’re already familiar with. Atsumu felt his guilt eating his insides. Who the fuck called you here? 

Komori puts his phone up so Atsumu can see. Komori smirks at him and Atsumu flashes out the middle finger to him. Sakusa mumbles and points at Atsumu, he said somewhere along the lines of you solve this on your own, Miya! 

Osamu headed to greet you first. “Hey Osamu, I brought some home made dorayaki for you and Atsumu. You guys love it right?” Osamu smiles and thanked you endlessly. You smiled but as you looked at the awkward little Atsumu behind Osamu you stopped smiling. He headed towards you and Osamu knows it’s his cue to leave the both of you in the kitchen.

“Hey, how’s South Korea?” Atsumu sat on the chair of the kitchen island. “Twas good. The food there, they’re amazing.” You hummed. “Glad you enjoyed it. Maybe I would know more if you actually answer my calls and texts about how busy you are and tell me when you arrived. But it seems like you don’t miss me that much.” You sighed. 

“[Name], I’m just...I’m sorry I need time for myself I’m so tired.” You looked at him, sad and gloom covering your whole body like the dark blue cardigan you had around you. “Tired of me or of practice?” you asked and reached for the tips of his fingers. “That’s–that’s not it, okay. Please give me some time.” Atsumu pleaded, you flinched when he suddenly glared at you. 

After some time, you released a deep breath and headed to the door. “Enjoy the dorayaki guys, I hope I don’t interrupt you guys. I’m sorry and please take care of Atsumu for me.” You opened the door and headed out. Atsumu is still in his seat. When the door was slammed he got up and sat himself back on the carpet around his friends. He picks up his chopsticks and pulls the omelette Osamu made. Everyone was staring at him.

“Eat your food and stop staring at me.” Atsumu rolled his eyes and ate more food on the table. “Ya don’t even want to chase her?” Osamu asked from beside him. “Nope.” Komori scoffed. 

“Just want you to know she got here by bus alone. I don’t know if it helped change your mind.” Komori said and drank his cold lemon tea he poured for himself. Atsumu stopped chewing and clenched his jaw, looking at Komori.

“The one who ruined lunch is you, Atsumu.” Suna’s girlfriend said and Suna agreed. So does everyone else. 

You don’t leave a text to Atsumu to the day he picked you up from the bar. He only texted you because he wants to end the relationship.

Day 153

Atsumu still has you in his arms. You’re already asleep, face still drenched with tears. He struggled with the pin to your apartment but picks up after a while of thinking. It is his birthday. 

Atsumu realised he is a bigger asshole than how he was minutes ago in the car as he remembered that he had never come to your apartment. Months of relationship it was always his place as you always preferred his place over yours and he thinks that maybe if he was the one giving in more effort to be the one going all the way to your apartment to spend time with you, he would have felt  better about himself. Normal dates outside are very rare aside from lunch or a quick grab of coffee before classes because he was too busy with his practices and you with your duties as a political science student.

He carried you to what he assumed to be your bedroom, carefully putting your body on the bed, taking off the leather jacket you had with you, slowly dragging the thick comforter to cover your shivering body. After shuffling in the kitchen, looking to find some aspirin and a glass of water for you to gargle right after you woke up he put it on the desk at your bedside. 

He saw a picture of you and Midori on the table, during graduation day. Midori carried you on her back while you threw a peace sign with tongue out and Midori making a disgusted face. He laughs at it, putting it back to where it belongs, carefully. 

You had a lot of other pictures pasted on the wall, the one that faces you when you sit on your study table. The notes and thick books are messily arranged on the shelf, a succulent that says ‘Good Job!’ on the table standing cutely, possibly the one that kept you up during the late night study sessions. He never really checked up on you and your studies, how did you manage to be so strong on your own without a supportive boyfriend, he doesn't know. 

And then he saw the pictures you hung neatly. He took the pictures one by one and saw some notes you scribbled on the back of the photograph. 

First, a picture with your parents. You talked about them at some time because you’re their only daughter and you missed them as much as they missed you. One time when you were making out with Atsumu your parents called and you pushed him away to answer the phone call. So funny how you got so innocent and angel-like just right after doing some lewd stuff with Atsumu just with the voice of your parents on the phone. At the back of the picture, it wrote.

Secured the top-scorer title with a scholarship! Mommy and Daddy are proud of me and I will never stop!

The second picture is of you and Midori at a pride parade. This time you wore a white t-shirt with blue jeans and sneakers and you looked absolutely mesmerizing. 

Pride with Midori. I am so happy for her!!

Some other pictures of you at an animal shelter, old folks home, in the streets, caring for homeless people, women’s march and marathon for cancer awareness. You were basically everywhere and it is what makes him regret not finding out about this side of you. All he does is talk about his talent in volleyball and you always make him feel the best that he never gave a chance for you to talk about yourself. 

Atsumu can’t stop the stretch of his smile and it is making his jaw sore. He is so whipped for you. You have always been such a caring person to him, doing your best to take care of him when game losses make his sour mood make a nasty comeback. 

He would cry in a phone call because he messed up his set and you arrived in his room, dropping your bag to hug him and lull him back to sleep. He cries so hard and you would never make him cry worse than he did, you were always comforting but his pride and selfishness would forget that in a day because he thinks the relationship you had with him is a waste. 

Atsumu is a fool. He didn’t realise how much his confusion hurts you more than it hurts himself. He is such a fool for not being there to protect you. The thought of you crying minutes earlier makes him scream in his heart, he doesn't ever want to see it again. If he made that happen again he will never forgive himself and if he has to build a shrine and be a monk to make sure his sins are forgiven he would do it. He would do anything for you. 

The last picture hid him the hardest.

It was him, and you, during his debut game as MSBY Black Jackals setter. 

You had your body leaned into his arm, smiling wide with a bouquet of flowers for him in your hand. He was staring at the camera with a lazy smirk, hands encircling your waist. It was sweet, and you look very cute standing next to him, in his embrace like that. A sight so beautiful. It is a shame when he remembers what exactly happened that night.

It was a very joyful day for Atsumu and for you but Atsumu didn’t even tell you about the match, you were only informed of the game because of Komori so the ticket you got is because Osamu gave up his ticket for you. He is tired of seeing Atsumu play volleyball and he can see it on his phone if he wants so he just gave it to you, saying you deserve it better. Even when you’re not informed about the game, you still showed up in the cutest little dress with the cutest little smell and the cutest bouquet of baby breath flowers for him. 

Atsumu is not fond of flowers. He is not fond of surprises either. When you showed up on the court, congratulating him, he was shocked. He was busy talking to fangirls and kids who love volleyball until you call out his name with so much pride. 

“Atsumu aaaa I am so proud of you! You worked so hard for this and I am sorry I don’t know of this sooner.” You hugged him and pat his back when you hugged him. Eyes glistening as you pulled away. Said the cries are happy tears. You told one of the passers-by to take a picture of you and Atsumu, resulting in the small piece of photography in his hand.

Later that night he went with his team and celebrated the debut together with them while you took off to your apartment, barely making it to the last bus of the night to get there safely, wishing you were with Atsumu in his car instead.

He turned the picture over. There is a long note there.

Might be the first ever picture with Atsumu, like ever. Nonetheless I am so happy and so proud of him it made my jaw hurt so much as I write this. I can’t stop smiling!!! I hope I can attend more of his games, more to his success, more time with him. I feel like I am the happiest person alive! I feel like one of the fantasy film protagonists where the person they have loved for a long time is within their arms, finally! I am so happy to have known Atsumu since the beginning days of school, how his charming and cunning personality, inspiring and charismatic figure would walk down the hallways of Inarizaki, I will always fall for him over and over again. I love him so much, and even if it takes a thousand years to wait for him I will always wait. Praying that this essay reaches the Gods because I love him too much, I don’t even want to let him go. I love Miya Atsumu, and I hope he feels the same thing too.

Atsumu pasted the picture back on the wall, turning off the study lamp and closing the door as he walked out. He sat on the couch in the living room, only having the kitchen light to illuminate the entire apartment. As he sat there, tears rolled off his eyes and loud sobs spilled out of his mouth. 

He realised he is such a foolish man, living in a complete lie with an angel from heaven taking care of him despite getting paid dust in return. He cried so hard he took the pillow next to him and cried himself to sleep. 

Day 154

If it is not for the bubbling and disturbing feeling in your stomach, you wouldn’t have gotten up and run to the bathroom to puke your guts out, but here you are. Smelling so stinky you just take a shower along the way. Fresh out of the shower in clean new clothes you saw a tall glass of water with your birth control pills right beside it. After downing the glass of water you headed to the kitchen to grab an aspirin to calm down the throbbing pain of your chest.

What you found instead is the sight of Atsumu, wearing an apron on top of his white t-shirt. It has been way too long since you have last seen him, and you didn’t expect to encounter him in your apartment, let alone him in the kitchen, preparing a breakfast for two. “Atsumu! What are you doing here!” you screamed audibly to him and got to the table to see a tray of rice and a bowl of soup on the table. 

“Ah, ya woke up earlier than I thought ya would, was intending to make breakfast on bed like in that one cheesy film you love so much.” You blushed. You headed to the cupboard and popped the aspirin into your mouth with the assistance of the barley tea Atsumu prepared for you. 

As you sat down awkwardly, he pulled out the rice bowl and put the tray in the sink and scooped another bowl of rice and soup for himself. He prepared a hearty meal for two, a miso soup to help you sober down and ease the gut after rounds of alcohol shots dumped in your body. 

Right, you were drunk last night. “So why are you here?” you asked after spooning out the final drop of the miso soup. “You remember nothing at all?” Atsumu asked. “Wait...so...Midori didn’t lie?” you asked again. Just realising that Midori already told you that your boyfriend was there. 

“Oh my god...how much did I say?” you pressed your palms on your face and dropped them to your lap. Atsumu smiles. 

“You said a lot! You said too much that it made me learn a lot.” Atsumu reaches your hands the moment it gets on to the table. He clasped it with care and so much gentleness even when his hand is calloused and rough from the intense training for so many days in a week. 

Atsumu sighs and hangs his head low. “I just realised that all this time, our relationship is one-sided” you gasped and the grip on his hands gets tighter. “I...took you for granted. I never gave you a comfort space to live in, a shoulder to cry on, and I have never...expressed my feelings for you.” You were trembling and Atsumu fully connected your fingers with his, interlacing it together hoping that neither of you will let it go.

“All this time you were always there for me, no matter what I was struggling with, no matter the time and place you would rush and hug me and tell me that it will be okay but I let you cry on your own whenever you deal with the same problem. I made a big mistake, and I swear to my life that I will make it up to you.” You got up from your seat and went to the sink along with your empty bowls. Atsumu got there too, hugging you from behind. 

“I am so sorry for being late, I love you. I love you so much that it hurts when I see you get hurt because of me.” Atsumu hugged you like he would make you dissolve in his body, it was so tight and warm and comforting it felt like home.

Miya Atsumu is your home. You are his home. And so he kisses your hair, your neck, your shoulders to make sure you won’t disappear before him, to tell you that what he said is true. 

You turned around. Holding his head in your hands.

“Atsumu, I love you too, and I missed you so much.” You smiled as the tears dropped, and Atsumu thinks this sight of yours hurts him as much as it makes his heart feel warm. It was a mixed feeling, but he knows that the perfect moment is right there, he holds your waist and your neck and kisses you on the lips with so much need and passion, to tell you that he loves you.

Your hands went to wrap itself on his neck, occasionally stopping by to run your hair through the blonde locks you love so much. He kisses in deeper and languid motion; it makes your head drowsy, worse than what the alcohol did to you but the sensation is nice. The alcohol was bitter and you hated it, this kiss tastes sweet and flavourful and you love it.

Atsumu continues while he carries you towards the bedroom he left you in alone last night, slowly putting your body on the messy bed who still has the scent of you from last night. It is supposed to gross you out but Atsumu is making it harder for you to breathe so nothing really matters, and Atsumu loves the scent as much as you love his oozing warmth that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He continues peppering kisses along your entire body, just like the night when you first spent together. Shirts off, pants off, underwear off. There’s nothing in the way of the both of you in the intense love-making session. Atsumu loves the way his name rolls on your tongue as he nibbles addictively on your neck, your chest and your tummy that is filled with the food he made for you, the love he had in store from his heart is delivered into you with so much ease. He plans to deliver some more as his kisses turn more passionate as the clock ticks, tongue intermingles and liquid drooling out of each other’s hot mouth.

Atsumu is already so eager to get inside you but he always has to prioritise you before him so he asked you. “Can I-can I get on with it now?” he asked, trying to recollect his breath at the same time while he looks for a particular wrapper in the drawer of your bedside table. “It’s fine, Atsumu, I’m on birth control.” You smiled at him and he smiled back, caressing your cheeks, touching your lips and tucking your hair behind your cute ears he loved to kiss so much. “You know, you mistook the birth control pills for aspirin that’s why I rummaged through the whole cupboard to look for one.” You gave him a glare so cute he continues kissing you. “My bad, baby. Can I get in now?” He asked with a teasing little smirk displayed on his stupidly handsome face.

“Yes, you can Atsumu.” You kissed him on the cheeks and hugged his neck as he entered. Inches by inches you sucked him in and he would kiss your temple to make you feel better after the stretch. The time away clearly made a lot of changes between the two of you, and it all makes this event more admirable than the ones before, because of the heartfelt confession you shared with him in the morning. All he wants to do is kiss your body like it is the only thing in this world worth worshipping. You are the most beautiful thing that ever happened in his life anyway, and he would never regret anything in his life anymore.

After the both of you peaked, he released into you, stayed there for a few minutes and took it out after he finally made your deep furrowed eyebrows disappear. You finally relax after the soothing time with your dearest one and he plopped himself next to you. 

Atsumu opened his arms and you found him inside it, getting smooches here and there as he hugged you. He would play with your hair, draw stars on the naked back of yours, and you would draw circles on his chest as you listen to the small heart beat in him. 

His heart was beating because of you.

“Hey, that noise in there is because of ya.” Atsumu kissed you on the forehead. 

“Oh really, yer not special, Miya, listen to mine!” you said with a glare after hitting him playfully on his chest.

“Uhuh...can I kiss it? Like this?” Atsumu continues his attack on your chest and you laughed loudly as he starts skimming his fingers on your waist and your tummy. He was smiling and laughing into the attack. 

Atsumu thinks that even if it is true that he is a fool, at least he is a fool that is so foolishly in love with you. 

[themand0lorian]

Impression, Sunrise-Part 3

Summary: You and Marcus figure out a routine with the kids, and you learn more about Marcus’ past.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N)

Rating:  PG-13 (Mild swearing/FBI themes)

Words: ~4400

Tags: Idiots to lovers but mostly idiots, mild swearing and FBI-themes, cute childcare moments, mentions of police because toddlers don’t know what the FBI is, kids are dumb™️, Miller SUCKS, Marcus is a nervous dad, mention of a daddy kink but not in the way you think

Notes: I’ve been trying to stick to weekly for this but life is starting to get in the way; I have up through part 5 mostly complete, and hope I can get to the rest before that comes! (I’m estimating around 7 parts to the main story, then several one shots as I have time for things that didn’t quite make it in.)

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​You spend the rest of the day occupying the kids as Marcus installs every baby-proofing measure the store had to offer. You think he may be going a little overboard, every edge of every item covered in foam, but it seems to occupy his busy mind, and Grace likes crawling after him wildly. She’s on his heels the entire time, while Eli insists on playing at least once with each of his new toys. Once tuckered out, he settles in front of the tv, and you guiltily put on the first show that you find, which he insists is his favorite. Overall, the words of the woman at the store simmer into the background as your brain is full of little pitter patter of feet, airplane noises, and talking cartoon pigs with British accents.

You had picked up some food at the store, noticing Marcus’ fridge was mostly takeout containers, but by the time dinner rolled around, Eli had other plans. “Can we have pancakes again?” He was excitedly swinging his legs from the booster seat, now more able to see over the counter. “No, Eli, pancakes are for breakfast,” you sigh, looking through the fridge for something of any nutritional merit. “But I like them!” Eli whines. “Dinner is the best time for breakfast,” Marcus insists. You’re suddenly being ganged up on, only Gracie remaining impartial in this little battle. You shoot Marcus a look, then turn to Eli, whose lip is now quivering as he gives you his very best puppy dog eyes. “Fine. Can they at least be blueberry pancakes? Get some fruit in there?” you acquiesce. “Yeah!” Eli yells, Marcus seeming to celebrate a bit too as he gets out the ingredients. You grab the blueberries from the fridge and bring them over to wash. “You know, they have you wrapped around their little fingers,” you insist. “Both of them.” Marcus shrugs, taking the blueberries to continue making the batter without answering. “Tomorrow, it’s vegetables.” “Yes, boss,” he salutes, and you huff. “Weird, I usually say that to you.” If you were being honest, when you said it, you were being a bit facetious each time, only trying to get him back for his nickname for you. But the topic seemed to spark something deeper as he continued to add and mix ingredients. “This whole thing is ‘weird,’ isn’t it?” he replied, gesturing with the wooden spoon at the current situation. Playing house. You snort a chuckle. “Yes, I suppose it is,” you laugh, taking a pan from a cabinet to place it on the stove. Eli is racing his truck along the countertop of the island, Gracie munching on baby snacks from her high chair. The sound of their babbles is distracting you as you turn the stove on. “How did you know where the pan was?” You freeze—how did you know where the pan was? “Uh—I don’t know. I just—if I lived here, this is where I’d put them,” you say, kicking the cabinet with your foot lightly as you turn to him. The batter is done, blueberries incorporated, and he starts pouring the discs as you move out of the way. “Sometimes, I swear you read my mind, kid,” he chuckles, and you agree. Despite not knowing anything personal about him, you seemed to always anticipate his next move, always be one step ahead, and he was the same with you. When his eyes met yours, hands outstretched with Eli’s plate, the words of the woman at the store came screaming back to the forefront of your brain; the way he looks at you. You search his eyes for a minute, trying to see what she saw, but you just see Marcus. The same way he’s always looked at you. You take the plastic plate he’s holding out and bring it to Eli, cutting one pancake in smaller pieces for Grace as you dismiss the woman as a nosy bystander. Marcus calls the FBI daycare as you’re cleaning up the kitchen, no doubt pulling a few strings to get both kids a highly coveted position. Where better to be under FBI custody than at the FBI? With that settled, the weekend seems to go by in a flash; Gracie crawling to her heart’s content, somehow making trouble despite being 20 pounds of pure leg chub and giggles. Eli quickly falls into a routine, only riling when he notices one of you isn’t in the room with him, that same fear of abandonment starting to creep up. On Sunday night, you do your best to prepare him for the day ahead. “Eli, tomorrow you and Gracie are going to come to work with us. There’s a daycare there, a nice lady named Miss Holly works there. She’s going to watch you while Marcus and I work,” you say softly, closing the book you had been reading to the boy while cuddled in bed. It was a queen-sized mattress, but he huddled against your side, damp curls wetting the shoulder of your t-shirt. He had insisted on you sleeping in bed with him, despite the new racecar nightlight you had purchased, and you relented, preferring this to the couch. You figure Marcus would offer his own bed, insisting he would take the couch, and that kind of uncomfortable back and forth wasn’t something you were ready for quite yet. “I want to stay with you,” he whines. His eyes are starting to close on your shoulder, so you turn off the lamp at your side, placing the board book on the table next to you. “I know, bud. I know,” you sigh, getting an idea. “You know how me and Marcus are police officers? What do you know about police officers?” You had decided this was the best way to explain your job to a toddler, and rolled with the grouping, despite usually having a distaste for the local police force. “They’re brave and strong, and they catch bad guys,” he mumbles, trying to fight sleep. “That’s right. So do you think you can be brave and strong for us tomorrow and stay with Miss Holly? Gracie really needs you there,” you whisper, the sleeping infant already in her crib. “Okay. I can do that. If it means I can be like you,” he says back into your shoulder, melting your heart that much more as he grips you tighter and falls asleep. You place a chaste kiss on the top of his head, intending on scrolling through your phone for a few hours, but quickly nodding off yourself. Falling asleep at the time of a three-year-old has significantly messed up your circadian rhythm, and when you wake up again, ready for the day, its only 3:22. Eli has rolled to the other side of the bed through the night, gripping Wilbur as tightly as possible, and you listen closely for Grace’s soft snores from the crib, hoping they will lull you into a few more hours of sleep. When you can’t pinpoint them, you sit up slowly, looking to the crib under the nightlight to find it empty. Panic rises in your chest, and as quickly and delicately as possible, you’re out of bed and into the hallway, searching for the baby. You freeze when you find her and Marcus swaying wearily in the kitchen, almost hiding in the shadows in your embarrassment. Of course she’s okay, of course he had her. She’s awake in his arms, sucking on her pacifier softly, and he’s singing to her again. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine You make me happy, when skies are gray-- You remember the song, smiling softly and resting your head against the wall as you continue to watch them in the moonlight. --You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you, Please don’t take my sunshine away. Your heart catches in your throat at the words, remembering that tomorrow would start your official investigation into the children’s parents. You wanted to find them, you really did—especially if the art thieves you had been chasing were doing something to them—but part of your heart would always be with these sweet kids. Gracie is asleep now, no longer sucking on the pacifier over Marcus’ shoulder, but he continues to sway, voice catching at the next lines. You told me once, dear, you really loved me And no one else could come between. But now you've left me and love another; You have shattered all of my dreams. He continues to hum at the conclusion of the song, and you guiltily decide to make yourself known, clearly intruding on some kind of private moment he hadn’t meant for you to see. You approach softly, running a hand through Grace’s hair while your other rests softly on Marcus’ back. When he turns to you, his eyes almost look teary, but the moonlight gives everything a silvery sheen, and you’re unsure. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispers, Gracie leaning further into the hum from his chest. “You—uh, you didn’t. I just saw she wasn’t in the crib and got worried,” you whisper back, running an arm up her back. Marcus nods; he had clearly been in his own thoughts, holding something back, and you want to lighten the mood. “You should be in a band or something, you sounded good.” “I actually was in a band,” he laughs softly, and it seems the Marcus you knew before has come back to Earth. You both walk together to the guest room, Marcus laying Gracie slowly into the crib before meeting you at the door. “Maybe that could be your next single,” you offer, watching as he makes his way past you and into the hallway. “I said was,” he chuckles, placing a hand on your shoulder as he retreats to his own room and you get back into bed. You try to go back to sleep, but the personal information, the catch of his voice in the second verse, the sheen in his eyes all seem to plague you until the sun comes up. The morning is hectic; you usually weren’t a morning person, but getting two little bodies, as well as yourself, ready and out the door on time was a feat in and of itself. You were thankful you packed their bags the night before; “Everything but the kitchen sink,” Marcus had insisted as he watched you nervously pack every toy, diaper, and onesie you could into it. Eli gripped Marcus’ hand tightly as you walked to the lower level of the building, a floor you had never even been on, but when the elevator opened to the brightest, happiest floor of the FBI you’d ever seen, he practically took off running, forgetting any anxiety he previously held. The walls were painted with murals of a forest, the shag carpet green like grass across the floor. Every inch of space seemed to be covered with blocks, or puzzles, or games, and there were short little tables with the tiniest of chairs for lessons. Tucked into one corner was mats for naptime, and in another there was an expansive book collection. Miss Holly took Grace from your arms, greeting you both and going over some policies, as Eli made fast friends with the other children. You saw Carson’s girl, who you recognized from a photo on his desk, show Eli some coloring books as Gracie crawled across the playmats to the other children. She was a bit younger than usual for the daycare, but you guessed Marcus was responsible for the exception. When you left, you noticed that there were several security guards stationed along the exit, and you wondered if that was to soothe the parents or the kids, but you were confident knowing they were only a few floors away. Settling into your desk in the office space, you watched Marcus move into his private office before opening your laptop. “Have fun playing house with the boss?” Miller is standing at your desk, coffee cup in hand and grinning. “Fuck off, Miller,” you retort. You weren’t particularly fond of your teammate; too hot headed, too cocky. Too young to get it. You wondered if Marcus thought the same about you. “Just sayin’, if all it takes for a promotion around here is some babysitting and dick sucking, I’m in,” he smirks, and you tamp down the urge to throttle him. You know he means metaphorical dick sucking, but thinking about either type with Pike makes your head spin. Instead, you focus on your few meetings in the morning, mostly aggravation from upper management about the failed raid and lack of new evidence. In the down time, you turn to the search for the Bennetts, who have become more interesting to you than the Monet.  You had the information you needed, social security numbers, names, but nothing was coming up, no matter what you tried. Somehow, tracking down this small family was harder than tracking down famous art. You resign yourself to placing alerts on their bank accounts and credit cards, hoping for some activity, when you notice it’s getting close to lunch. You decide to head to Marcus’ office to fill him in on your lack of progress. You’re surprised to find Marcus’ office empty when you arrive; he usually took lunch at his desk, choosing not to eat in the cafeteria with the team or come out when you all went somewhere. You approach slowly, as if he’s going to pop up from under the desk at any moment, until your eyes land on an odd piece of paper on the workspace. Folded but still pristine, Eli’s drawing from Friday is in the center, all highlighter and harsh pen strokes. It clearly means nothing, Eli perhaps going for abstract art, but you have an inkling that you may know where Marcus ran off to. Your suspicions are confirmed when you make your way back down to the daycare and spy him through the windows leading to the room. You can’t hear them, but Grace is on his lap, and he’s reading her a book about vegetables. Eli runs circles around him, showing him every toy he’s been playing with, interrupting him every other word. But still, Marcus smiles patiently, seeming to just enjoy the time with them after a morning away. It’s clear he doesn’t see you, and instead of interrupting him again, you push the button on the elevator to go back to your floor. You almost jump out of your skin when the doors open and your name is called. “What are you doing down here?” you ask Carson, who is shifting on his feet uncomfortably before stepping into the foyer with you. “I like to check on Emmie during lunch,” he gestures to the door of the daycare, his daughter inside. “Seems like you had the same idea.” “I was actually just looking for Marcus,” you laugh, calling for the elevator again; it must have left during your conversation, because the doors don’t immediately open. Carson looks to the window then too, watching as Eli practically crawls over Marcus’ head to get a better look at the book in his lap. “Seems like parenthood is doing him some good,” he mumbles almost to himself. “Shame he never got that from her.” “What do you mean?” Carson looks like he just got stuck with his hand in the cookie jar, but seems to force himself to continue. “I knew Marcus, before he transferred here. We worked together in Texas. He was all about this girl there, Lisbon. When I got him the job here, she was supposed to move here. Marry him, have kids and a dog and a white picket fence. The whole nine yards,” he whispers, like he isn’t sure he should be telling you. You only nod, and he continues. “Then she left him for some other guy. Since then, he’s…I don’t know. Someone else. Maybe these kids will bring him back to the old Marcus,” he muses. The elevator dings, but you’ve forgotten you’ve even called for it, gob smacked by the new information. You’re gaping in front of the open doors when another voice brings you out of your stupor. “Seems like we all had the same idea,” Marcus chuckles, stepping past Carson and leading you onto the elevator with his hand on the small of your back. You don’t notice as you flounder to recover. “I did, but seemed like you had it handled,” you smiled, waving loosely to Carson as the doors closed and brought you back to your floor. Your mind was swirling with the information. Some woman left this modest, sweet man? You chewed on your lip thinking about them. The Marcus you now knew seemed like a catch; was handsome, kind, good with kids, put together. What did this other guy have that Marcus didn’t? Super powers? You try to ground yourself as you separate back to your desk, but of course, Miller is at your side again. “Walkin’ pretty close to the boss, there, agent. What, you lift the ‘no dating at work’ rule for him?” he scoffs, and you close your eyes, trying not to let him rile you. You had honestly forgotten telling him that; an awkward fumble to avoid his advances when he first started in the department, insisting the two youngest members of the team should get together. “Please, we all see the way you look at him. Didn’t peg you for a daddy kink.” With the insinuation you jump up to your feet, slamming your hands on the table and rattling the office supplies on top. Miller smiles, finally getting the reaction out of you he wanted, and you reach back to smack that stupid smile off his face— “Hey!” The shout is loud and curt, Marcus now standing in the doorway of his office scowling as you both stand frozen in place. “Cut it out.” He calls you into his office, and Miller gives you a smirk as you walk over, closing the door behind you from his prying ears. “I’m sorry Marcus, I—” “It’s fine, kid. Do you want me to do something about him?” Marcus gestures broadly to the office space as he speaks. “Miller? No, it’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine but I don’t…” you stop yourself, composing your thoughts before continuing. “It’s fine, Marcus. Thanks for looking out for me, but I’m fine.” “Are you sure?” His voice is gentle, like when he talks to the kids. You’re reminded of this morning, finding him singing to Grace, his voice broken at the words that now make more sense. But now you've left me and love another, you have shattered all of my dreams… “Kid?” His voice brings you from your thoughts. “Did you find anything on the Bennetts?” you ask to change the subject. Marcus nods suspiciously before pulling out a file, allowing you to look it over as you sit in his office. It takes a few minutes for you to skim through it, but once you’re settled in the thick of it, Miller’s comment repeats in your head; the way you look at him. What the fuck was with all these people? Did you and Marcus look at each other with eyes popping out of your heads or something? And how was that so different than the way you looked at anyone else? Your thoughts plague you for the rest of the day, replaying as you make your way in a silent elevator to the daycare, ready to pick up the kids and call it a day. Marcus turns to you, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head as he tries to form sentences. “You know I’ll always look out for you, right?” he says gently, repeating your sentiment from earlier in the day like he had been thinking on it all this time. You’re taken aback by the statement, surprised at his raw honestly, but only muster a nod as the doors to the daycare open, halting any train of thought you may have had in response. Eli sprints toward you both, already running his mouth about his day and what he did, as Grace and Miss Holly come up behind him, Grace happily settling into your arms. Marcus grins widely at the sight, and Eli’s newest piece of art being deemed “fit for the Smithsonian” by Marcus draws one out of you, too, the four of you making your way to the car. After a week of solid routine, and less pancakes, you and Marcus have fallen into a rhythm. Kids are up and dressed on time, eating healthy foods, going to daycare with a few less things packed (the rest, you insisted needed to be kept “in case of an emergency”). Eli had gotten less clingy, maintaining he wanted to go out on playdates with his new friends and allowing you some moments to slip back to your apartment for more clothes. The search for Kerry and Logan continued, but with no new leads and frozen accounts, there wasn’t much to go on. You’re now continuing your search at home, laptop pulled into your lap as you hit another dead end. A ping on the credit card that turned out to be a recurring payment. Resigned, you sigh into the screen, your ears catching on giggles and squeals coming from the bathroom. You close the laptop completely, approaching to the low hum of Marcus’ voice and splashing water. “Eli, can you draw a dog for me?” If you had been upset before, any ounce of that is gone, watching as both kids play in the tub. Bubbles surround them as Marcus holds Gracie still, gently shampooing her hair while Eli draws his finger in shaving cream on the tiles. He makes a squiggle, dissolving into giggles when Marcus pokes fun at his drawing. Gracie soon follows, the little noises echoing in the tiled bathroom as Marcus rinses her hair, careful of her eyes. He’s still in his work clothes, sleeves rolled up to the elbows and tie removed, and he looks like he could have been in the bath himself based on how wet he is, but his smile is deep, crinkling his eyes and pinching in his cheeks. It’s the first time you’ve seen that smile, you think, and Grace spoils your secret observation by reaching for you and announcing your presence with a coo. When he turns to you, that smile still stuck on his face, it feels like it knocked the wind out of you. “Alright, time to get out,” Marcus laments through his grin, grabbing Eli and wrapping him in a towel before lifting him out of the tub. Grace follows next, swaddled in the cotton and eyes drooping in his arms as the trio march to the bedroom, and you follow. “You can sleep in your own bed tonight,” Eli says to you proudly as you wrangle him into pajamas. Marcus has Grace on the bed, and both of you freeze at his words, happy to hear he’s feeling comfortable but not wanting to address the elephant in the room. “Eli, I don’t have a bed here, silly,” you start, unsure. “What do you mean? I thought mommies and daddies were supposed to sleep together?” he asks as you zip him up. Your hands freeze halfway, and you feel the tension from Marcus as he freezes over Grace. “Eli, you know we’re not your mommy and daddy, right? That we’re looking for them?” Marcus asks carefully, placing Grace into the crib. “I know that,” Eli insists, and both adults seem to release a breath at the same time. “But I thought when you’re married you sleep in bed together.” “Eli, we’re not married,” you insist gently, continuing to get him into bed and his eyes go wide. “You’re not married? Why not? Are you married to someone else?” he asks incredulously, clearly following his own train of thought. You giggle as you answer negatively, only pausing when Marcus steps in. “I was married once, a long time ago,” he says gently, lifting the boy under the covers. Your throat constricts, remembering Carson’s words from earlier in the week. But Marcus doesn’t sound angry, or sad; it sounds like he’s just telling Eli the truth, in a way he can understand. “What happened?” He asks innocently, and your feet are cemented to the floor. Your fight or flight practically kicks in, but somehow, you ignore both options and stay completely still like you will melt into the wall. “We didn’t love each other anymore,” he explains. “And then you can never get married again?” “No, I almost got married again,” he chuckles, and you wince, preparing yourself to hear the words from his mouth. “But you both have to love each other very much to get married. You have to want to spend your life with them, to know them really well,” he explains, tucking the boy in. Grace already appears asleep, unmoving in the crib. “So you have to know each other and love each other to get married?” Marcus finally makes eye contact with you, a desperate plea for help, so you try. “Sometimes. Sometimes you can sleep in bed together and not be married,” you wince, realizing you’re giving too much information, but he’s peering eagerly over the covers. You try to shift the subject, wanting to insist on sharing the bed again. “As long as you love each other, that’s all that matters. You’ll understand when you’re older. Goodnight, bud,” you say softly, turning off the light and practically racing out of the room. Marcus is on your heels, both of you holding your breath for no more questions as you stand in the kitchen silently. When he seems to have fallen asleep, you both release a collective sigh, until you heave out a whispered curse. “Fuck! I forgot to ask about sharing the bed,” you chuckle, and Marcus smiles too, shaking his head at your antics.

[lifeofroos]

Part 43. Slowly but steadily getting there boys. 

In short: Nico gets therapy from Dionysus. In this chapter, Dionysus explains more about the voices in Nico’s head. The story can also be found on AO3 and FanFiction.net! And in Tumblr tags like Dionysus, Nico di Angelo, Therapy, etc. 

This might be crazy: Chapter 43: Demeters’ Divine pear Juice

Dionysus gave me a juice box when we got to the Big House. We sat down on a side of the porch where people rarely came, from which you could see the forest. 

I put the straw in the juicebox. ‘I think you are going to tell me what you and dad think is going on in my head,’ I said, a little shaky. 

‘Yes. After that, we will decide what to do about it.’

‘Okay.’ I took a sip. Oh, pear juice. ‘I want to know what it is. I have noticed you and Hades take it quite seriously, so…’ I shrugged, unsure how to finish that sentence. 

Dionysus stared at one of the trees. Someone put it big, red mark in the middle of the trunk. ‘Are you ready?’

‘Yes.’

He nodded. ‘Hades and I think that the faces  and voices are coming from the Elder Gods. The Elder Gods are gods who were before, but are not anymore. Selene and Helios are examples, but there are also gods who got reïncarnated a few times. Eh, I am one of those. There have been two Dionysusses before me.’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘Sorry to I interrupt, but that must be weird as hell, knowing that.’

He shrugged. ‘I live with it. Anyway, these Elder Gods are supposed to be in a place not even the gods have ever seen. All we know about it is that it is not always in the same place. It moves. And when it does, sometimes a few Elder Gods get themselves stuck in Tartarus.’ He took a break to sigh. ‘The only way for them to get out is if they find the doors of death. Yet, for sóme reason, they always try to contact someone in the hope that person will come down to Tartarus to break them out, even though no-one can do that.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘If their target actually goes down to...’

‘Hadestown?’

‘...Tartarus, it usually does not go over well.’ He slouched a little. ‘And Hades and I think that target is you.’

I took a few sips of pear juice. ‘But there is something we can do about it,’ I said, trying to visualise a solution. 

‘Yes, luckily. Multiple ways, even.’

‘Otherwise, you would not be so calm.’ I think. 

‘Very observant. Probably the best way to get rid of them is via the diplomatic route.’

I pulled my legs upon the chair. ‘Does that mean that I will have to talk a bunch of primordials down?’

‘Elder Gods. Primordials are something else.’

‘Elder Gods, then?’ 

‘Diplomatic means without violence, in this case. How it is done is that you attract the peaceful spirits who are in the Elder Gods’ resting place, so that they can keep the spirits in Tartarus at bay. That does mean that you might still hear a voice sometimes, but those voices will be peaceful and wise. Taking the violent route means that you do not hear those voices either, but it will also give you traumas the diplomatic route won’t give you.’

I thought about that for a second. Would I mind a voice if it was peaceful? ‘Would the voices be near constant?’

‘No. They don’t talk much, and when they talk, it is usually enlightened babbling.’

‘It would be completely gone if I chose the violent route. But I assume that will cause hefty PTSD?’

‘Among other things.’

‘Alright. Then I trust that you are right.’

As soon as I said it, it felt like a stone sank into my stomach and I realised I did not, in fact, fully trust that he was right. This was something big, something dangerous. I could trust him, I knew that, of course, but... ‘Eh, that being said, what exactly are we going to do? How will I attract these peaceful Elder Gods?’

‘We will go to the underworld. Near the Styx lays a platform from where you can contact the peaceful Elder Gods. You will go into a trance. I will be the one to guide you through that state. You will make contact with the right voices and notice the bad ones leave. After we are done, the nasty voices will fully go away over the course of a few weeks.’ 

He said we’ll have to go to the underworld. Near the Styx. I knew Dionysus had never done anything to me, but somewhere inside I was afraid that he would hurt me. That he would throw me into the Styx and leave me there. I would be in trance, or otherwise said, unable to defend myself. 

‘Nico, do you have trouble trusting me on this?’

I took a deep, deep breath. ‘Yes. I know I can trust you, but somehow I don’t.’

‘The fact that you told me shows that you indeed trust me. Now, I know your father would be willing to come with us, so that there is more than one person to witness what is happening.’ He shifted on the chair. ‘There is also a contact platform on Olympus, if that makes you more comfortable. However, there will be people walking around and trying to see what is going on there.’ 

I did not want to go to Olympus. I’d take the Underworld. At least I knew that place. ‘A third option, which can be combined with either of the previous two, is that I ask Hestia to come along,’ Dionysus continued. Hestia. I could trust Hestia. She would never hurt me. Yet, could I ask that of her? ‘That is not a strange thing to ask. She often comes along when someone has to meet the Elder Gods, because she calms people down.’ 

I squeezed my juicebox. ‘If that is so, I want Hestia to be there. I can trust Hestia. Yet, I think dad will want to be there too. Eh, and I understand that you will still be the one guiding me.’

‘Then that is what we are going to do.’ He stuck out his hand. I shook it.

‘Yes. Then that is what we are going to do.’ 

I didn't really know how to feel. I felt a cocktail of different emotions. Fear most of all. 

‘I understand it if you feel strange. I am proud that you are still here.’

I nodded and drank a bit of pear juice. ‘It is a lot.’

‘I reckon.’

‘Eh, when will we do this? Right now? Tomorrow? In three weeks, three months?’ 

‘The only limits I set is that you must give me time to speak to Hestia first, I want it to be over with this very week and I want it to be right after you’ve had a meal. For that meal, you should stuff yourself. Eat too much, even. If it isn’t enough you might faint.’

‘Okay. Tomorrow then, if you can reach Hestia by that time. Right after breakfast. I want to get it over with and I do not want to chicken out.’

He smiled. ‘Very well, Nico. Very well.’

Will slept in my cabin that night. ‘Maybe now it can finally get better.’

‘Maybe it will.’ I moved closer. ‘I am afraid, Will. It sounds like a whole operation. I mean, Dionysus was pretty calm about it, which makes me think it cannot be that bad. But…’ I sighed. 

Will kissed me on the top of my head. ‘I’ll be right here to hear it all once you're done. I’ll drop everything I am doing. I’ll let someone die if I am in the middle of an operation.’

I understood it was meant as a joke, but I was not really in the mood. I closed my eyes. ‘I want to sleep.’

‘Then you can sleep, Nico. You are safe.’

A/N: Kinda on the bridge about whether I’ll upload a chapter where Nico talks to Hestia or if I should get it over with and then write a chapter about Hestia. Update from future Rose: Hestia chapter will be there. Next up. 

Okay boys I feel like I am kind of dragging this arc. Sorry for that. As said before, Hestia will be next and then I’ll get to The Thing and after that to the other Thing (Not saying much but it’ll be cool). 

It suddenly hit me that Nico and Will being a couple was a whole shock in America, when in the Netherlands there was this book where someone (very obviously) had a mother in a relationship with a (non-evil) stepmother in like... 2008 and no-one batted an eye (Lena Lijstje, for all my Dutch readers) (I googled it. It was damn 2002). 

[dindjarin-mandalorian]

A Soft Place to Land (The Mandalorian - Din Djarin x OC) - Chapter Twelve

Author’s Note: I’m not going to link to my Masterlist or AO3 in this post because I don’t think Tumblr likes links, but you can find both linked at the top of my blog on desktop, or in the pinned post on mobile/desktop. :)

Note:  This is the backstory of an OC I created for a failed RP, and that backstory turned into a whole fic for The Mandalorian and my OC, Lira. The fic began several years before the events of Season One of The Mandalorian took place, but it’s now caught up to events of the first season. At this point in the story, Din and Lira have known each other for about thirteen years.

Summary:  Lira is an intel-gatherer for Greef Karga, working to get information on the quarries he sends his bounty hunters after, but her life slowly starts to change after she meets one bounty hunter in particular.

Warnings: I don’t think there should be any warnings for this chapter, but if I’ve missed something, feel free to let me know! 

Tagged: @nova646 ​  (If you’d like to be tagged when I post new chapters of this fic [or anything I write], just let me know! You can comment here or send a message. I’m always happy to tag!)

-

Once they landed on Sorgan, Din led them to a small open-air tavern where they could find food, and Lira settled the child into a seat next to her while Din scanned the area for threats. When the waitress approached them, he asked her about a woman who was sitting in the corner of the tavern. 

Lira glanced over to the woman and then back to Din, though she remained quiet as he continued to ask questions. After the waitress had told him everything she knew, he ordered food for Lira and the child, and she left to fill the order. 

Lira raised a brow at Din. “You didn’t think it might be nice to ask me what I wanted to eat before you ordered?”

Din stared at her for a moment. “Believe me, bone broth will be the most palatable thing you’ll find here.”

Lira wrinkled her nose. “Fair enough. And this is where you want to stay?”

He tilted his head. “They don’t have McNuggets, but I think we’ll survive.”

She gave him a look and then glanced back to where the woman he’d asked the waitress about had been sitting, but she was gone.

She turned back to Din. “Who was she?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why were you asking about her?”

Din sighed. “She looked out of place here, and if she’s someone who will cause problems for us, we’ll need to find somewhere else to go. Stay with the kid. I’ll be back.”

He stood, and Lira looked at him in confusion. “Where are you going?”

“I need to check something.”

He left without another word and Lira looked at the child, who was sitting next to her, quietly clapping his hands together. “He never tells us anything, you know.” The child babbled something incomprehensible and Lira laughed. “You’re right.”

The waitress returned with their food, and Lira took sips of her broth in between feeding the child. It wasn’t the worst thing she’d eaten in the Outer Rim, but it was close, and she did her best to eat it without letting her face show exactly what she thought of it.

Din returned a few minutes later, accompanied by the woman he’d asked about earlier.

Lira shot Din a questioning look as he sat next to the child. “Why do you look like you’ve been rolling around in the dirt?”

The woman laughed as she took the seat on the other side of Lira. “Probably because he’s been rolling around in the dirt.”

Din shook his head, but ignored Lira’s question. “Lira, this is Cara Dune.”

Lira smiled at the woman, though she was still confused about why she was sitting with them. “It’s nice to meet you, Cara.”

“Likewise.”

Din began to ask Cara questions about what she was doing on Sorgan, and Lira continued to feed the child as she listened to Cara’s answers. Lira was pretty sure she understood why Din was so curious about her. She did seem a little out of place on Sorgan, and if they were supposed to be lying low, a shock trooper, even a retired one, might not be the best company.

Finally, Cara stood. “Thanks for the broth, but unless you want to go another round, one of us is going to have to move on, and I was here first.”

She grinned at them and walked away, and Din sighed. “Looks like this planet’s taken.”

“Another round, huh?” Lira asked, arching a brow at him.

“It’s nothing.”

She looked skeptical, but let it go. “Where do you think we should try next?”

“I’m not sure. If you’re finished eating, we should get back to the ship.”

“Aren’t you going to get some food?”

“No.”

“You can eat it on the ship later.”

“I’m fine.”

“Listen, if I had to eat bone broth, you can eat it, too.”

She motioned the waitress over again and ordered another bowl of bone broth to go, then grinned at Din. “It’s too bad they don’t have McNuggets.”

She couldn’t see his face, but she knew he was rolling his eyes behind his helmet.

It was dark by the time they returned to the Razor Crest, and Lira tucked the sleeping baby into his pram before joining Din outside to help him do some maintenance to the ship.

“Thought of anywhere we can go yet?”

“No.”

Lira bit her lip. “Well, you know I’m out of my element with that.”

“It’s okay. I’ll think of somewhere for us to go.”

Lira turned at the sound of something rustling in the bushes, then placed a hand on Din’s arm. “Din…”

Two men stepped out, and Din and Lira watched them approach for a moment before Din quietly said, “Go stay with the child.”

“But -”

Din faced her. “Keep him safe.”

Lira nodded, then hurried onto the Razor Crest to stay with the child. She rocked his pram gently while she waited for Din to return, then stood when he climbed into the cockpit. 

“We’re going with them.”

“What?”

“They’re farmers and their farm is in the middle of nowhere. Sounds perfect for us, doesn’t it?”

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

“No, but we don’t have a better option right now.”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to try to convince Cara to go with us.”

“Why?”

Din hesitated. “We might need her help.”

Lira sighed. “You’re expecting problems.”

“Yes. The farmers were attacked a few days ago.”

“Attacked? Din, we’re supposed to be finding a safe place for the child, not heading into danger!”

“I know, but if we can remove the threat of attackers, this would be a good place for us to stay for a while.”

“If we can remove the threat of attackers.”

Din sighed. “Yes.”

Lira took a deep breath and released it. “Fine, let’s get packed.”

While they packed, Lira kept thinking of everything that could possibly go wrong. She felt like the whole thing was a bad idea, and while she trusted Din’s instincts and knew he could protect them, she didn’t like the thought of going to a strange village and only hoping they’d go undiscovered there. She figured it was only a matter of time before they were found no matter where they were, and they hadn’t traveled far enough away from Nevarro for her comfort.

She kept her thoughts to herself, however, and helped Din load the cart without voicing her concerns. She figured Din was having the same thoughts himself, anyway.

Lira stayed with the child and the two farmers while Din went to get Cara, her anxiety almost palpable until she spotted Din walking out of the treeline toward them, Cara right behind him. 

He joined her on the cart, and she whispered, “I see you were successful.”

“Yep.”

“How’d you convince her?”

“I gave her all the credits the farmers gave us.”

Lira winced. “Well, hopefully it will be worth it.”

Cara hopped into the cart and sat across from them, and Lira snuggled the child a little closer to herself, wrapping the blanket snugly around him to keep him protected from the cool night air. He slept peacefully in her arms, and the steady rolling of the cart started to lull Lira closer to sleep, as well. She yawned and Din turned his head to look at her.

“You should get some rest.”

“So should you.”

She heard a quiet huff of laughter through his modulator and smiled sleepily.

“I’ll rest, don’t worry,” he said.

“Good.”

As much as she wanted to sit and enjoy the sparkling stars above and the feeling of sitting so close to Din, she could barely keep her eyes open long enough to focus, so she finally gave in to sleep. 

She woke a little later and realized she’d fallen asleep with her head against Din’s shoulder. She sat up a little in embarrassment, but he seemed to be asleep and she’d been so comfortable, so she leaned into him again, resting her head against his shoulder once more as she drifted back to sleep.

When she next woke, she realized Din’s arm had found its way around her waist and she was snuggled in much closer than before. The sun was up now, but Din and Cara both seemed to still be asleep, so she slowly sat up so as not to wake them. She was grateful that she’d woken before Din, but then wondered if he had been awake when he’d put his arm around her or whether it had happened in his sleep. The thought of him intentionally putting his arm around her made her blush, and she was glad no one was awake to see.

The child babbled, interrupting her thoughts, and Lira smiled at him. “Shhh, little one. Let’s let them sleep.”

It wasn’t long before she could see small houses in the distance, and she felt Din stir beside her as the cart jolted across the rocky path. When the cart finally stopped rolling, they were surrounded by a group of people to welcome them, and the little one immediately had his own welcoming committee made up of every child in the village.

They hopped out of the cart, and Din followed one of the women from the village to a barn, while Lira and Cara helped carry boxes. The child played happily with the children near the cart, Lira keeping an eye on him while she worked.

When they finished unloading the cart, the woman Din had followed earlier approached Lira and smiled. “Welcome to our village. My name is Omera.”

Lira returned her smile. “I’m Lira.”

“I hope you’ll be comfortable here. We don’t have much, but you’re welcome to all of it.”

“That’s very kind.”

“And your husband asked me to show you where you’ll be lodging.”

“My husband?”

Omera’s brows constricted slightly. “Yes, the Mandalorian. Is he not your husband?”

“No. No, we’re not married. He’s not… we’re just friends.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to imply anything. I just assumed, since he said the two of you would share lodging.”

Lira smiled, trying to put Omera at ease, though her stomach fluttered at the thought of being married to Din. She had to push that thought to the back of her mind before she started to blush. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

Omera pointed to a building near the edge of the village. “It’s that one there. It isn’t much, but I hope you’ll be comfortable.”

“I’m sure we will be, thank you.”

Lira made her way to the building Omera had indicated and knocked on the door frame before entering. “Got your helmet on?”

“Yes,” came Din’s voice from inside.

Lira entered and leaned back against the wall, her arms and ankles crossed. “Omera said my husband was in here. Have you seen him? I’d love to meet him.”

Din turned to face her and stared while Lira tried not to laugh. “What?”

Lira shrugged. “She thought we were married.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That we weren’t married. What else was I supposed to tell her? I think she thinks the child takes after you, though.” Lira grinned as Din continued to stare. “Does he?”

“Does he what?”

“Take after you.”

Din shook his head slightly and turned back to his Amban rifle. Lira winced and moved next to him to watch as he cleaned the weapon.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have teased you. I feel like I do it too much and it’s hard to tell how you feel about it with the helmet.” She shrugged. “You can tell me to shut up if I’m ever bothering you.”

Din didn’t look up from his Amban rifle. “You don’t bother me.”

A small smile appeared on her face. “I’m glad.”

He set the rifle on the table and finally faced her. “I’ll be sure to tell you if you ever do, though.”

Lira laughed and lightly pushed his arm. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Lira could hear the smile in his voice even with the modulator and she couldn’t help grinning at him. He turned back to his rifle and she looked around the small room, shaking her head. 

“No bed?” she asked.

“No. There are enough blankets to be comfortable enough on the floor.”

Lira looked at the floor and wrinkled her nose. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

She sighed. “I guess we can make it work. I’m going to find the little one, make sure he’s not eating frogs again.”

“Okay.”

She looked over her shoulder when she reached the door, glancing back at him one more time before making her way outside, a small, wistful smile on her lips. She didn’t notice that he turned to watch her through the window as she made her way over to the child, wearing a wistful smile of his own behind the helmet as she lifted the child into her arms with a grin.

[cetaceans-pls]

Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Relationships: Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Attempted Kidnapping, Date Night at an Aquarium, Gone Terrifically Wrong, Dom/sub Undertones Series: Part 4 of Third Thursdays

A plainclothes mission at the Gotham Aquarium quickly goes off the rails when Jason and Bruce find themselves on the wrong end of a kidnapping attempt. A billion-dollar target out of the Batsuit, Bruce gets taken.

Jason comes fetch.

Happy late Lunar New Year + Valentine’s! Why do I keep forgetting to post things to my tumblr! Life’s full of mysteries!

Anyways, please enjoy the weird result of me thinking too much about aquariums and helmets that look like jackals, and have a good week  🙏

Fic also available below the cut:

Jason studiously doesn’t mess with his cuffs, tug on his necktie, or pull off his sunglasses. He hates being forced to manifest in a suit and tie; it’s a misery every single time he has to. However, knee-deep in the bowels of a pandemic that just won’t freakin’ quit, needs must. Sometimes a man’s got to cosplay as a high-tier bodyguard to fit in a date night on a Thursday, so sometimes a man will.

He fiddles with his earpiece, expression serious even though he’s really just trying to get the volume up on his audiobook. It adds to the aura of stern, scary bodyguard man, and it means that the wobbly-lipped, handsy director cuts short his long, long thank you speech to Bruce and waves them inside for their all-access tour of the Gotham Aquarium after dark. It’s a performance he and Bruce have repeated for most of a year now, and it’s the main avenue for Jason to work through his massive collection of audiobooks. Once a month or so Billionaire Fuckboy Bruce Wayne will get it into his head to book a library or a park or a zoo or a planetarium all to himself for fuck knows what, and he’ll be good and won’t break any social distancing rules or any furniture because it’s just him and his bodyguard staying through the night. Come morning the establishment will find themselves the recipients of a donation generous enough to keep their heads above water, while Brucie floats away on a cloud of expensive scotch to find his next flex.

Bruce has more money to his name than anybody ever, ever should, and these days he uses it to buy literal breathing space for much of Gotham’s public facilities struggling to stay afloat.

This is their first visit to the aquarium, because the social media intern-turned-manager here had managed to keep finances fiercely healthy by selling videos of aquarium creatures with personalised messages. Dick himself had commissioned a 30-second video of an aquarium worker whispering ‘wiggle wiggle wiggle’ into a microphone while the camera zoomed in and out from the moon jelly exhibition, and the number of Gothamites keeping their spirits up exclusively thanks to a video of a gently floating manatee quietly murmuring “You’re doing your best” is alarming.

That’s why it’s taken them a while to work their way here, but Jason has to admit he’s looking forward to a relaxing night walking around in mood lighting with B, heckling the occasional fish. Their last date night keeping Gotham’s ‘non-essential’ attractions open had been at the rec centre in the Narrows that’s been shut for months. Romance was thin on the ground there, because mid-date the Bat had taken over Bruce and decided that they owed it to the people of the city to make a few simple adjustments to improve water quality in the swimming pools.

Elbow-deep in an ancient pump and filtration system, Jason’s hand had gotten tangled in something while pulling out the filters. It had turned out to be a tangled, sopping wet mass of human hair the size of a cat, and for the first time in a while, he had wished he was dead and actually kind of meant it.

Tonight, though, promises to be smoother sailing. The aquarium’s not in dire disrepair, the staff have been instructed to keep out of their way and respect their privacy, and he has burritos and two bottles of mini-Merlot tucked in holsters that would hold guns on a lesser man. It’s perfect prep for a relaxing supper in front of the open water tank.

The director leads them in through the main entrance, still talking Bruce’s ear off while he gestures nervously around them and swipes at his thinning white hair. Jason follows after them, hand to his ear as he says a bunch of menacing gibberish into empty air. He and Bruce are incredibly dull on nights out like this, and have by Alfred’s decree been cut-off from work comms to decrease the chance of anyone on duty being rude jealous assholes. No one’s listening right now, but growling ‘Code Esper’ into his jacket has the director sweating even harder, which is the intended outcome. With a messily-babbled “Goodnight and goodbye Mister Wayne!” and an unwelcome pat on the small of Bruce’s back, the man disappears the way they came, heavy glass doors swinging shut.

Finally, the night’s starting to look better.

First thing Jason does is rip off his stupid sunglasses. It’s certainly an Expected Look for a bodyguard, but it’s 11 PM on a weekday night and on top of it being a hideous accessory, it sets his teeth on edge to have his vision obscured even while off-duty.

He also whips his tie off, because there’s a time and a place for choking and it’s not here, not yet. Jason runs his hand through his hair to break through the gel and scowls to see the black residue on his fingers. Makeup on his face, makeup in his hair, makeup pasted on to hide him in plain sight when other people get to go to Wendy’s barefaced and hand-in-hand as they pleased, urgh.

The world’s extra rough on the legally dead, even if he’s immediately mollified by Bruce sidling up to him, close enough that their hips bump and their fingers tangle.

Christ, rich man shampoo smells a whole lot different to the stuff you can get by the half-gallon in your local bodega. Jason is tempted to bite Bruce, find the closest cleaning cupboard and get up to some defilement, but it's a big aquarium and it’s a long night, so there's no rush.

The CCTV cameras aren't live, no red lights blinking, and it's supremely helpful how much privacy gets afforded to a billionaire and his potential debauchery in return for a big cheque. Jason slings an arm around Bruce's waist, because these are hard rights hard earned, and just grins at Bruce's long-suffering sigh. "Shut the hell up, this is crazy romantic. What do you want to see first?"

The answer is, inexplicably, the tropical freshwater exhibit, where they spend a solid half hour with an arapaima swimming up-down up-down a false river designed to look like the Amazon, their tiny bottles of wine in hand. Jason loses his mind first, pacing along the tank to follow the path of a fish longer than he or Bruce are tall, but within a minute Bruce is in lockstep with him as they stalk an innocent fish while they talk about not very much at all.

Bruce looks at the murkiness of the water and the cinematic dead leaves floating all over, expression gravely concerned. “They could do with a bigger aquarium.”

Jason groans, thumb absently picking at the label on his bottle. “Stop communing with the fish. It’s only barely cute when Damian gets really intense about animals, and the charm’s completely gone once you crack 6 feet.”

In his head, though, he can’t help but feel that yeah, more space for the arapaima would be nice, but hey.

Jason’s singularly terrible with small, tight spaces, so.

“C’mon,” he says, nudging Bruce so hard it’s mostly a shove. “Time to find out what sharks look like after-hours.”

“What’s normal operating hours for a shark?” Bruce asks just to be a pain, easily going where lead.

“Keep at it and I’ll shove you in the tank so you can find out.”

-

There’s a loose ceiling tile near the information counter in the main hall, right by the entrance leading to the enormous, floor-to-ceiling open water exhibit. There's a loose ceiling tile there because Jason had cased this joint a week ago, the way he checks out every place Bruce decides to take them to on nights like this, and that’s where he had decided to hide his kit. While Bruce walks from end to end of the tank, committing to pointless memory the names and traits of a hundred fish, Jason climbs up and into the ceiling to grab their party pack.

Tepid beer, pretzels, spicy chicken-flavoured chips, wet wipes. A heavy blanket, a bottle of hand sanitiser, Alfred’s cold-brew tea that could grow chest hairs on a rock. He’s even got a bottle of antacids to cover burrito-related maladies shoved into a first-aid kit so complete it could maybe, just maybe, regrow a limb. He dusts the heavy blanket off before he spreads it across the floor, where they have the best view of the most unbearably beautiful manta ray that could possibly exist.

Jason maybe preens a little when Bruce comes back from the edge and greets the spread with a bit of a smile. “Hurry it up already, dinner’s gonna get cold.”

The burritos get pulled out of their holsters as Bruce settles on the ground in the exacting, ginger manner of a man of a certain age whose knees have unfortunately passed their prime. They sit and eat while inoffensive jazz plays quietly over the speakers and fish go up and down and all around.

Ah, beats the ball of human hair by a country mile.

“This is nice,” Bruce says quietly, shrugging out of his coat and loosening his tie. There’s a sharp, bright gloss to him when he’s in Bruce-Wayne-Public-Performance mode, but Jason likes dishevelled, run-down Bruce who’s a little absent-minded and a lot human the best.

He likes this Bruce he’s earned.

“One of our better dates.” Jason holds up his bottle of beer expectantly, and feels profoundly smug when Bruce raises his to knock in a gentle toast. “Fuck, I can’t remember the last time I came to the aquarium. Must have been before.”

“Same,” Bruce says, and Jason wonders for a brief, harrowing moment if this holds true for the zoo and the planetarium and the rec centre and the public library and the-

He doesn’t get the time to linger on the thought and ponder, check to see if this is Bruce on a mission to form new memories in places that had held some from before a death in the family, because they’re interrupted by the sudden scream of a fire alarm.

They both tense where they’re sat, at the ready to fly into a fight in a suit and tie, but wherever the emergency might be it isn’t in here with them. Jason looks around, tries to catch smoke on the air, but it’s all stillness and the scent of disinfectant spray. Weird, that there’s no quiet stampede of night-time crew rushing to rescue their watery wards, no security guard sent on a quick mission by the director to save their cash cow.

Jason’s got a bad feeling about this. He gets to his feet and hauls the bag containing the first aid kit and other supplies up on his shoulder. “What the hell is going on?”

Bruce is fiddling with his phone, working through the security system of the aquarium. “All the cameras are down, so we have no visuals. The fire alarm in the deep sea exhibit was tripped manually, not by the smoke detector.” He frowns. “Carbon monoxide monitors didn’t register anything, and the sprinklers haven’t been triggered either. Could just be a fluke.”

Bruce doesn’t sound convinced, and neither is Jason. Assuming harmlessness is a great way to incur harm, and that’s something you learn damn early after starting up a vigilante lifestyle. Jason can only assume foul play of some sort, likely relating to Bruce, but there’s no way that an aquarium as big as this wouldn’t have night staff; civilians might be in danger.

Fuck, give him gross filters jammed with 27 years worth of dead skin cells over this. “I’ll go and check on the deep sea room.” If there’s no trouble, Jason’s mighty tempted to create some. “You should head back to the entrance, meet up with the sweaty director dude and evacuate. I’ll catch up with you after everything’s handled.”

Bruce looks pretty irritated to be asked to meekly make his way to safety, but pulling a Bat move right now would be incredibly bad optics. They both know his hands are tied, and Bruce sighs and climbs to his feet. “If I don’t get an update from you in fifteen minutes, I’m coming back in,” he tells Jason, crumpling the foil of his burrito and fastidiously stowing it away in the pocket of his slacks. “Comms check.”

They both tap at their discreet earpieces, and both wince at the screech of feedback when the comms activate and pair.

“Fifteen’s plenty.” Jason hikes his kit bag further up his shoulder, and pretends he’s not embarrassed when he tries to activate night vision on a mask he isn’t wearing.

“Jason,” Bruce says, calm, commanding, and quiet.

“What?”

“Be good.” It’s said like an order no one could want to refuse, but before Jason can get over his shivery shock and snap something back, Bruce is waving and disappearing out the hall, pulling on the skin of a simpler man.

Jason rubs at his neck and misses his helmet more keenly. This unbearable transparency of being; almost thirty whole ass years old and it’s astonishing how underneath it all he can still be so hideously eager to please.

“Please let there be a fucking crime,” Jason murmurs to himself, and disappears.

-

There is a crime, but it’s not even a good one.

Jason breaks into the deep sea exhibit through a utility hatch designed to access the cooling pipes for an elaborate sea sponge display. He’s quiet and mostly invisible when he surfaces in the room, and after a minute of letting his eyes adjust to the curated darkness, it’s easy to spot a man in a balaclava with a gun trained on the only door leading to the room.

He also quickly spots the terrified hostages huddled together under a display of what looked like demon jellyfish made of LEDs and blood. It’s easy to see the shape of the crime now; set off an alarm in an isolated area with only one known entrance and exit, and subdue people as they arrive. As long as the alarm kept blaring, staff would keep on coming, and by not triggering any of the smoke or carbon monoxide detectors the fire department remain clueless.

Excellent plan, great for catching anyone who hadn’t, oh, spent a solid 12 hours going through the schematics of the entire building out of an obsessive desire to create a space a Bat could relax in. Jason counts 11 hostages and just the one gunman, and tries not to groan.

There’s not much money to be had by robbing an aquarium, and judging by the degree of weaponry this isn’t some anti-aquarium demonstration organised via Facebook groups, powered by pandemic blues. No one’s liberating a shark or freeing Willy or anything nearly as fun. Ringing the alarm’s just an excellent, excellent way to control the movement of people.

There are only two ways to go; towards the fire or towards safety.

If you’re looking to net yourself a big fish, two small teams with a couple of free-roaming agents would be enough to ensure a catch rate of almost 100%. Jason highly, highly doubts that this whole song-and-dance was designed to abduct a frazzled researcher wearing a fuzzy sweater in radiant orange, or a stern-faced woman in a janitor’s uniform who looks alarmingly close to hulking out and breaking out of her bonds. He highly, highly suspects that there’s a reason outside of billionaire-envy to explain why the director of the aquarium had looked so dodgy and sweaty when he had welcomed Bruce.

Jason’s proven unfortunately right when the radio at the gunman’s hip crackles to life.

“We got Wayne.”

Of course they did. Bruce could hardly go to town and take down a bunch of armed kidnappers, especially if there are civilians near him. Jason tugs out his phone to update the Cave while the gunman grunts his reply and moves to turn off the fire alarm. Alfred asks Jason if he needs reinforcements as the guy tells the huddled terrified masses that he’ll kill them if they move, and Jason texts back a ‘no thank you’ as the goon strides out of the room, locking the door behind him.

The group of tied-up people burst into panicked chatter as soon as the gunman’s gone, and Jason uses the noise as cover for unzipping his bag and getting changed. Unlike Bruce, pulling on his second skin takes a lot longer, but once Jason tugs his red hood up and shucks off the bodyguard suit to stretch in his skin-tight armour, he feels twice the man and thrice as happy.

There’s no gun in the bag, there’s no gun anywhere near him, because it’s a self-imposed rule Jason has recently given himself for date nights. Bruce has been known to use anything from a screwdriver taped to a plank of wood to his literal bare stupid hands to pry things open in a whole-hearted effort to avoid having a crowbar anywhere in the Manor or in his life, and Jason wanted to repay like with like.

Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck to not have his go-to weapon, though. He sighs as he straps a taser strong enough to knock God unconscious to his thigh, and sighs again when he pulls out a sickle in its leather holster. Alfred’s gotten terribly creative with what he packs for their nights out, but who is Jason to stand in the way of a man’s artistic expression?

Fully kitted-out, hood drawn and mask glowing, Jason shoves the bag back down the hatch and vaults over the top of the aquarium he was crouched behind, landing to the wild, panicked screams of the assembled staff.

His flashy entrance is totally unnecessary, and he knows the lights on the new helmet make him look less like a human and more like an abstract cryptid with a muzzle lined in blood. It’s spectacularly dramatic, but it releases some of the tension that’s been building in his body ever since he and Bruce split up.

He holds his hands up, forgetting the sickle in his fist, and the screaming hits a crescendo any opera would be proud of. It’s a little fucking hysterical, but Jason’s on the clock right now so he can’t savour this situation as much as he would have liked. “Calm the hell down, it’s just Red Hood here to save the day.”

The screaming eases up, though a gentleman in thick glasses and a threadbare labcoat does give a good ol’ screech when he comes closer towards them with the sickle set free. Jason ignores him and crouches down to cut the janitor lady free first. She spares a second to presumably calculate the chances of her beating him in a fight before she comes to a conclusion, shrugs, and turns to immediately start picking at the knots of the person next to her. Within a couple of minutes everyone is free, and everyone is scrambling to grab at things to arm themselves with. Jason eyes the selection of brandished pens and water bottles with mild delight, and nods respectfully at his lady and her bottle of bleach off the janitor’s cart because real recognises real. He does a quick scan to make sure there are no serious injuries or emergencies, and gets to his feet.

“All right, so this is apparently an attempt to kidnap Wayne, and you guys are just collateral. They’ll be clustered towards the main entrance, so get out through the most secret employees-only door you know. Stay together and stay quiet, and it’s gonna be fine. The Bat knows what’s going on, if that makes anyone feel better.” He considers how much he does and doesn’t want to share with the people assembled, before he decides that fuck it, being a shit-stirrer is pretty fun. “Pretty sure your big boss is in on it too, so if there’s an exit that guy won’t be familiar with, use that one.”

There’s a sharp intake of communal breath, before a young woman wearing waders and rubber gloves up to her shoulders raises her hand. “Do you mean Dr. Stevens?”

Jason shrugs. “Maybe?”

“Uhm. Short, all white hair, super skinny. Looks like someone you wouldn’t trust in a lab alone with a stressed-out postdoc of any gender because he gives off the vibe of a creep with varied tastes?”

Jason frowns at what the girl is saying, and the grim looks of much of the rest of the room. “Sounds about right.”

At least three separate people hiss motherfucker under their breaths, and three more say some version of I fucking knew it. The aquarium might not have had any severe financial issues, but oh, they’ve found a mess worse than too much human hair, looks like. Jason’s keener than ever to murder this Stevens dude, but he really, really doesn’t have the time to chair a HR complaint for the aquarium right now.

“Look, whatever goes down tonight I’m gonna give a Red Hood guarantee that the guy won’t be your boss anymore. Hell, Wayne’s going to be so grateful when I rescue him that I could get him to elect a different person to be in charge of this place even if this guy isn’t in cahoots with the kidnappers. So consider it handled, okay?” He straps the sickle back at his waist. “Now get the hell out of here. I’m counting on you.”

He nods at his bleach-wielding lady, and she nods back like the truest sort of comrade-in-arms.

Reassured, Jason kicks the door down and moves the fastest anyone’s ever moved in an aquarium, a red-faced wraith on a hunt.

-

Bruce courteously gasps when a hood is thrown over his head and secured, even though he had guessed the shape of the night’s events the moment he had reached the lobby and seen the half-wobbly half-cocky look to the director’s face from across the way. “What are you doing?” he demands in a shaky voice as he puts up token resistance, enough to look panicked but not enough to tempt someone into knocking him out and hauling him away.

Far too many questions to answer as to why a loafer coasting on generational wealth has more muscle mass than your average highly-trained mercenary, after all.

He counts his steps and tries to carve little signs into the pile of the carpeting with the toe of his loafers as he’s marched off, though he doubts Jason will need this trail of breadcrumbs to find him. “Let me go!” he yells, navigating the blueprint of the aquarium in his mind. Everyone ignores him, and his captors are none-too-gentle as they force him up some metal stairs.

Forty steps from the entrance to the lobby, a right, thirty steps, a left, a quiet beep, and now stairs. My, my, my, seems like they’ll be paying Dr. Stevens’ sea slug lab a visit. It’s a good location for a quick regroup, tucked away and locked behind several layers of security. Bruce imagines they won’t be here long; a good kidnapper doesn’t keep their victim where they found them, after all.

He’s roughly shoved into a chair and tied to it, rendered immobile by cuffs on his hands and rope round his legs, but it’s a cheap office chair and there’s give in his binds. He’s immobile, but only theoretically. Bruce keeps tugging at his bonds and cursing under his breath while he hopes that Stevens doesn’t bother to ask where his bodyguard has gone, has thought the worst of Jason and assumed that he had just run off.

It would make a rescue attempt much easier, though Bruce isn’t particularly worried. It’s a kidnapping force of, oh, five? Maybe six? Carpet muffles footsteps more than wooden floorboards do, but Bruce is pretty confident of his estimate. Six at most, with at least another team responsible for the fire alarm, so a worst-case scenario of twelve. As long as his measure of their competence isn’t too wrong, Bruce doesn’t anticipate anything worse than a couple of through-and-throughs if he has to fight through this himself.

He knows he won’t have to, though.

The people around him fall silent when their radio comes to life, a panicked man shouting “There’s someone here with us! It’s the Red-” before there’s a loud bang! followed by a terrifying silence.

“Ten,” someone yells tersely back. “Come in, Ten. What the hell was that?”

There’s a general rumble of unease in the room now, and Bruce is allowed a vicious, nasty smile because no one can see him under here. At least ten people are in on this, and about half of those are in here with him while the rest are out there with Jason. He considers making an effort to tap out in Morse how many goons are with him right now, since Jason has half a dozen ways to track his location with all the kit Bruce has on him, but decides against it.

Let the boy have some fun.

“Let me go, I’ll do anything you want,” he calls out half-heartedly, but no one gives a shit because there’s another panicked broadcast by another panicked man that cuts off abruptly. The tension in the room is palpable, feels more solid than the sack on his head, and it goes frizzy with electricity when the Red Hood’s terrifying static growl comes through on the radio.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Jason’s mangled voice croons through the line. Bruce feels goosebumps ripple up his arms, and feels oddly, hideously proud. “Two down, a few more to go. Hope you’ll put up more of a fight.”

Then there’s a sharp crack, and the line goes quiet.

“You promised me this would be just in-and-out! You said that Wayne would be out of here as soon as you got him! You didn’t say anything about a vigilante running me down in my own building!”

Ah, that’s Dr. Stevens losing his nerve. His tirade is cut short by a hard slap, it sounds like, and the voice Bruce thinks of as One is the only thing to be heard above the quiet whimpers of a panicking doctor.

“You agreed to do anything that needed to be done as long as you got a cut of the pay,” One says coldly. “Too late to get cold feet now, doctor.” There’s the sound of the walkie-talkie being turned back on. “Transport is incoming. Disappear and make your way out, regroup in safe house Gamma. It’s just one man against all of us, so don't lose your heads and we’ll get our money.”

Nobody responds verbally, probably because radio silence is golden when trying to beat a hasty retreat. Bruce feels his ropes come loose, and he’s forced to his feet as the kidnappers discuss their plans with more discretion than Stevens shooting off his mouth. He catches bits and pieces of conversation, mentions of the docks and allusions to the highest bidder, but everything goes instantly, deathly silent when the radio comes to life again.

“Three down, four down, five down. Be seeing you real soon, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce doesn’t need to pretend to take in a shaky breath.

-

God, code names are an absolute necessity when carrying out this sort of dirty work, but Jason wants to have a sit-down with whoever decided to go with numbers for this little shindig. First man taken out and he already knows this goes at least ten fuckers deep. The leader’s figured out that yelling the number of men he has in his employ down a radio the enemy has access to isn’t a great idea, but somebody with an army of a hundred wouldn’t have been so concerned with the downing of one, so Jason’s pretty much got confirmation that this is a small-scale, quick-in quick-out kind of affair.

They’ll be looking to move Bruce, with that whole ‘transport incoming’ message. Jason’s got Bruce’s location pulled up, B’s comms actively recording vitals and transmitting its location, and from the lack of movement it’s easy to tell they’re planning a getaway through the front entrance.

He’s also happy to note that Bruce’s resting heart rate’s still at an insulting 45 beats a minute mid-kidnapping, though boy it sure did spike every time Red Hood sent out a message. Good to know, real fucking good to know.

After taking out the fifth guy, Jason doesn’t run into anybody else on his way to the main entrance, and he doesn’t particularly care if some small fry are getting away. The priority is getting Bruce to safety, and then doing clean-up on the kidnappers and Dr. Creepazoid. A showdown within the lobby is endlessly preferable to a showdown outside, if only because it’s easier to keep track of people if they can’t run away from you. Double-checking that Bruce actually is being slowly moved towards the main entrance from wherever they stashed him, Jason happily beats them to the front doors and barricades them in with him, stacking tables and chairs and cupboards into a heavy, impenetrable mess.

Sure, whoever’s coming to pick them up might be armed enough to break on through, but Jason has intimate knowledge of what mercenaries are like. Thoughts like ‘I sure as hell am not paid enough to deal with this’ are common and powerful enough to dissuade most mercs in this situation. It’s what you get when you team-build on money instead of insane, intangible things like love and loyalty, losers.

Jason looks around at the arena of his making and makes a quick decision to climb up a display case stuffed full of the toys kids can expect to see in the gift shop. It’s sturdy enough, though the thin metal frames groan a little under his weight. Jason sheathes his sickle and powers down the lights lining his helmet, lies in wait like a hungry dog in the dark as he calms his breathing and imagines what it will be like to beat the living daylights out of people who think it’s cool to disrupt a well-earned date on a much-anticipated night.

It’s another ten minutes or so before he picks up the sound of heavy feet trying to be unnaturally quiet on cheap carpet. They haven’t rounded the corner and they’re still out of sight, but with his helmet enhancing his hearing Jason’s already getting plenty of information. At least five people with heavy, careful steps, likely the assailants heavy in their armour and weapons. One set of footsteps shuffling along the carpet, all hesitance and distaste, and that’s got to be Stevens.

And in the middle of it all, walking in a weird off-kilter rhythm like a man who either has a stone in his shoe or is determined to make as distinctive a walk as possible, is Bruce. Up and walking of his own power, which is excellent. Jason doesn’t need to go into this fight concerned with keeping an unconscious Bruce safe. This is going to be an activity with full participation by all parties, hell yeah.

Speaking of participation.

Jason taps the side of his helmet and connects to Bruce’s comms. “B,” he says, low and sweet just to unsettle Bruce. “I’ve got altitude on a cabinet on the eastern wall of the entrance. I’ll see you right as you come in, and I’m gonna attack before anybody knows what’s happening. Get behind the reception desk if you can. Do you copy?”

As per the training handbook for situations when you’re too deep behind enemy lines to do much of anything, Bruce registers his acknowledgment with three sharp clicks, teeth clacking against each other in rapid succession.

Jason arches his back, loosening his muscles before he curls up again, ready to literally pounce. The footsteps are drawing closer, and they have just a few seconds before shit is going to hit the fan. He unhooks his sickle, and grins at absolutely nothing.

“Oh, and B?”

A click.

“Be good for me.”

Bruce’s heart rate spikes just as the group of men round the corner, and Jason’s laughing like a loon as the lines of his helmet burn back to life and he descends on the kidnappers, a hound out of hell.

-

There’s something primordially terrifying about seeing a fury in red and black descend on you from the sky. Bruce knows what the plan is, knows exactly how menacing a figure Jason can cut when he wants to be dramatic, but even then he couldn’t stop instinctively reaching for the handy, wicked little pocket knife in his pocket the second he saw the lines of the helmet glowing through the dark of his hood.

In the panicked yelling as Jason leaps into the fray and starts systematically annihilating a group of heavily armed men who can’t fight back without shooting each other, it’s easy for Bruce to break free of his captors and rip the sack off his head. He ducks under the flailing butt of a gun and takes a moment to shatter someone’s kneecap with the metal cuffs on his wrists before he’s rolling out of the way, belly-crawling towards the sturdy reception desk.

Dr. Stevens is yelling and trying to run away but Jason keeps plucking at him and pulling him back into the brawl with a vengeance Bruce grudgingly admires. By the time Bruce has climbed up on a chair to get a better view of the fight while staying mostly out of sight, half the men are already a groaning pile on the ground.

By the time Bruce has freed himself from his handcuffs, Stevens is an unconscious mess on the ground, and by the time Bruce has texted home and requested that Alfred call the police, it’s just Jason and One circling each other, both their faces hidden, blades in their hands.

Bruce notes with some interest that where Jason had kept his sickle sheathed and mostly used the blunt outer curve to knock people unconscious, the wicked edge is now out and gleaming as One strikes at him with a nasty Bowie knife. The hand-to-hand is quick and brutal, both of them trading hits and jabs. Whatever armour One is wearing is holding up well against Jason’s sickle, which is fair enough.

Bruce would need to get closer to know for sure, but it certainly looks like the sickle Alfred uses to carefully weed the tulip bed. No point in sharpening a gardening tool to be sharp enough to bite into flesh.

Less pleasing is how One’s knife doesn’t seem to struggle much with cutting through Jason’s costume. The new mesh Bruce had designed in response to Jason’s irritated demand for a slimmer, sleeker costume was supposed to be able to withstand most edged weapons, but even in the dark it’s easy to see where the black fabric has been cut and Jason’s skin and blood are visible instead. Trust Jason to do quality testing in the absolute worst times.

Back to the drawing board it is. One is taunting Jason, allowing Jason to swipe ineffectively at him before laughing and slashing back. “Is this all you got?” the man crows from behind his balaclava, radiating smugness. “I don’t know what I was worried about. I’ll have you and Wayne brought in for sale, and I wonder who the highest bidder will be.” Another quick jab, and Jason’s forearm is marked. “Wonder which of you Mister J would want more as a playmate.”

At that, Jason goes stock still. It’s so sudden that it clearly startles One, who retreats a little, knife up and ready to go. Bruce finds himself with his jaw clenched shut, teeth grinding so hard it’s like lockjaw in three seconds or less.

Of all the things some no-name budget kidnapper could have said. Bruce taps on his comms, opens a line to Jason, because if One keeps push push pushing like this, he won’t live to see morning.

One might not live to see the next minute, if Jason’s slow, terrifying stride towards him means anything.

“Jason,” Bruce whispers into the comm. “Jason, enough. You’ve done enough. Stop playing with your food, come here and let me check on you.”

Across the lobby, Jason once against draws to a halt, but it doesn’t stick. One figures out that actually, the Red Hood had been getting sliced up into ribbons more as a weird exploratory experience than because of a lack of skill, and he figures it out by way of Jason coming right up to him in the blink of an eye, disarming him by snapping the wrist of the hand holding the knife, and grabbing him by the throat with a grip tight enough to kill.

One is currently absolutely sure that he’s about to die.

So is Bruce, who knows that he cannot reach the man faster than Jason can snap a neck. “Jason!” he damn near bellows down the comms, damn near shouts across the room. “Enough. You come when called. You come when I call.”

And like a miracle, like the time Jason came back all those years ago and all the times Jason’s come for him ever since, it works.

One is dropped to the ground, unconscious and foaming at the mouth, and Jason’s barrelling towards Bruce.

As Bruce is swept up and back into the depths of the evacuated aquarium, he finds himself thinking we’ve had worse.

-

Jason isn’t sure why his first instinct after being called off of the murder of a singularly horrible man is to haul Bruce up and run to the deep sea exhibit, but he’s willing to admit to himself that calm only comes back to him when they’re finally buried in the quiet dark of a room of things softly bioluminescing.

He’s got no love lost for the Joker, has fought the bastard enough times since that it’s not residual fear that snapped him. Here, far far away from the wreckage, it’s easy to identify that his trigger had been superimposing the many, many horrors Jason has personally died from and lived through onto Bruce. Bruce who in many ways has the worst luck of any person he’s ever known, Bruce who would sooner rip into himself than be put into a Pit, Bruce who has to be careful with his burritos and his knees, put under the loveless purview of a madman with a crowbar.

Being protective of other people is generally a good thing, but trust Jason to wield care like a bludgeon. He scoffs, and drops Bruce unceremoniously next to the trapdoor. He could take off his helmet, no one and nothing could see him here, but the mortification of being seen out of control makes it really fucking unappealing.

Bruce sits up and looks around, acting like not a single weird thing has happened this entire night. “I’ve never seen the deep sea exhibition,” he says, like he’s having a normal conversation, like this is just the middle of a perfectly pleasant, perfectly average date.

“I saw a poster, they only built this section after I died,” Jason says dully.

Bruce hums like that’s information enough. “I’m glad we’re getting to see it then.” He tugs at Jason’s leg. “Sit.”

And Jason does, his legs folding underneath him before a thought’s even fully formed. He remembers when he was redesigning the helmet and was struggling to pick a look that was both menacing and just plain cool. The one he settled on had been one of Damian’s designs, all geometric shapes and the suggestion of creature. It had reminded him of a jackal, of Anubis, like death come in the shape of this thing with a muzzle and teeth.

Right now it feels like he’d chosen the look of a dog, a dog with the brand of bat to describe its master, and he feels like a mangy, wild thing desperate for Bruce, just for Bruce.

He takes back every mean, unkind thought he’s ever had about the date at the rec centre. Let him bury his hands into a dozen masses of gelatinous hair than force him to think about things like this, think about himself like this.

Jason’s tight with tension, but Bruce doesn’t push him to talk. Bruce doesn’t force him to do anything, just has a hand wrapped around the nape of Jason’s neck, thumb rubbing at the seam where metal helmet meets skin. They sit in this weird, tingly silence even as Alfred’s pings requesting an update become more urgent, and Jason realises that they’ll stay in this weird, tingly silence until he makes a move.

“What the fuck are we doing, B?” he says at last.

“Whatever we want to, Jaybird.” Bruce is ignoring a lot of his own damn rules about names in uniform, but he still seems remarkably unconcerned about everything. “How are you?”

Jason groans, giving up and tipping over so that he’s sprawled uncomfortably over Bruce’s legs. “Feel fucking awful. I can’t believe I’m the kind of guy that loses his shit just because some asshole said something vaguely threatening to you.”

“I think it shows good character.” Bruce rests a hand on Jason’s shoulder, the other still carefully cradling his head. “But I’m not a good judge of character, so take that with a grain of salt.”

Jason barks out a laugh at that. “You sure fucking are. I knew that director guy was skeezy the moment I saw him. Can’t believe he didn’t set off alarm bells in your head within the first thirty seconds, B.”

Bruce just shrugs. “If I reacted badly to everyone that I thought I couldn’t trust, I’d rarely get to stop.”

Well, the man’s got a point. “Still. He’s apparently shitty with staff too, so at least we’re solving a bunch of problems all at once with this night out.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you, Jason.”

Jason forces himself to sit back up, a little alarmed by the little note that’s appeared informing him that the police are about five minutes away from the aquarium. “That’s a damn lie and you know it.” Even the strongest of the kidnappers wasn’t anything much above average for a night out on patrol, and Bruce is nothing if not ruthlessly efficient when the fight’s in a public place.

Bruce gets to his feet, careful and ginger, and Jason can’t help but just stare at his stupid wholly-human knees. Bruce doesn’t mention it, doesn’t draw attention that renowned vigilante and crime boss the Red Hood has his head not a foot away from his legs, and just holds his hand out to him instead. “How about, I wouldn’t have enjoyed this night without you?”

Jason takes a moment to pretend to think about it, but he knows his answer. “I”ll take it.” Like he takes Bruce’s hand, like he takes things from Bruce because it’s what he wants and it’s what he’s earned. “I should get out of here before the pigs show up.”

“See you back at the Manor?” It’s only half past midnight, which means this date’s ended a good three hours earlier than their usual. Bruce looks like he’s asking only as an afterthought; of course Jason’s coming home with him.

Jason struggles to think of anything more pleasant than sitting out on their balcony in the dark with a hot drink in hand, electric blanket doggedly trying to keep them warm even as the outlet threatens to explode from the snow that’s supposed to start at 2 AM.

He also struggles to imagine how he’s going to be good company when his head is in as much disarray as it currently is. How open is Bruce to some heavy petting outdoors if Jason can’t convince himself to take his helmet off the whole time? How likely is the night to devolve into them sitting awkwardly in frigid silence until someone snaps and starts an argument just for the sake of a change of pace?

“Yeah, I’m thinking that’s not a good idea.”

That gets Bruce to stop shabbying himself up to look like an actual kidnapping victim, cuffs already locked again. “I see. Why is that?”

Jason shrugs, and is glad that his face is still unseen even if it feels like his whole damn body is letting B in on the secret. “It’s a 'feeling kinda feral' kinda day. I’m going to go blow off some steam.” Run a couple of laps around the lake in the memorial park, and if he gets close enough to hypothermia he might start forgetting the quiet kshkshh sound of delicate neck bones grinding under his hand.

He feels violence wiggling just an inch under his skin, and that’s another self-imposed rule for nights out with Bruce. Any time his grip on himself feels even a pound looser than it should be, Jason’s going to take time for himself because this deep into this relationship he’s surer than ever that there’s a hell of a lot of brutality he could let loose and Bruce would just take it and take it and take it.

Jason will not bite his mas-

He’s forcibly taken out of his thoughts by a sharp rap against his helmet. He strikes out instinctively, and catches Bruce's hand in a tight grip. “What the hell, B.”

“You weren’t responding,” Bruce tells him matter-of-factly, not pulling away. “I said, you can go and run yourself ragged. After that, you come home.”

“And why should I listen to you?”

Bruce smiles a proper smile, sharp and smug and sweet, and leans over to press a kiss to Jason’s hand wrapped around his own. “Because, Jason, I listened when you told me to keep away and keep safe. Isn’t it your turn now?”

It’s all about that give-and-take baby, and Jason just might fucking howl.

He releases Bruce in a flash, and his helmet’s unlatched and crashing to the ground not a second later. Bruce could have aikido’d him over his shoulder and flung him clear across the room because Jason’s not the most coordinated he’s ever been right now, but instead the man just widens his stance and wholly and easily accepts Jason throwing himself at Bruce face first.

It’s a maddening kiss, because Jason’s just shoved Bruce against the blood jelly tank so that he can get into position for a good grind when an alert goes off from his helmet, and Alfred’s too-loud voice calls out to tell them that “The police officers have arrived, sirs.”

Jason groans and pulls back slightly, trying to catch his breath as he digs his teeth into Bruce’s shoulder despite the three layers of expensive fabric in the way. “I hate everything,” he says, half-heartedly groping at Bruce’s chest.

“Hate it in your free time,” Bruce mutters into his hair, before choking a little because he caught a mouthful of semi-permanent dye. “On our nights, be good.”

Relationships are a contract, and Jason’s willingly agreed to these terms for, ah, close to a year now. It doesn’t mean he won’t grumble, or mess up Bruce’s perfectly styled hair just to make him grumble too. “Yeah, yeah, old man, I know what I’m about. Go and distract the cops already, I need to get away.”

Bruce lazily salutes him, looking dishevelled and mussed and suitably victimised. Jason is one damn inch away from dragging B down to the ground and reinstating his territory, god. Instead, he grabs his bag and picks up his helmet, and dawdles a little by the hatch. “You gonna be okay, old man?”

“Of course,” Bruce says confidently, ripping buttons off his coat and toeing one shoe off to look extra pathetic. “I have a hot date to keep. I’ll see you at home, Jason.”

What’s a man to do when given an order like that?

Jason obeys.

-

A/N: i’ve literally had ‘king tide come through’ listed as a title i wanted for something since last year?? it doesn’t even really mean anything i just love that the highest high tides are kings and it’s got such a nice ring to it. my approach to titling things is that it has to slap, thanks for coming to my TED talk ;9

[argylemnwrites]

Fight or Flight - Chapter 6: Next

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~5500

Rating: PG-13 (rare language)

Summary: Eighteen hours since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: Sorry again for the delay on this one! I know PB has basically turned the laws of Cordonia into whatever they need them to be for plot reasons, but that’s not sufficient for me, so I am trying to construct some sort of framework based on what we know from TRM, ROE, and TRR/TRH. We’ll see how it goes...

This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

“Riley… Hey, Riley.”

Riley’s eyes fluttered open as she felt a hand on her shoulder and heard Drake whispering her name, tugging her awake. It took her a few seconds to place herself as she glanced around the room. She reached for the nightstand with a fumbling hand before she remembered she didn’t have her glasses. She squinted at Drake. Thankfully, he’d crouched down in front of her, so he was at least in focus, even if the rest of the hotel room was a giant blur. 

“Is everything okay?”

Drake nodded, running a hand over his chin. He was already showered, shaved, and dressed in a grey t-shirt and a pair of jeans. “I am going to go to the bakery across the street and see if any of the locals can point me towards a cheap, used car dealership.”

“Okay. I don’t think I’m going to be much help.” She’d always meant to learn Greek since moving to Cordonia, but she’d only ever gotten around to learning a handful of words. After all, official court business was always conducted in English, and most of the citizens of Valtoria were bilingual, so there had never really been a need. Until now apparently. It’s not that no one in Ioannina spoke English, but it wasn’t as common as she was used to. Even last night, she’d been utterly dependent on Drake to discuss what they needed in a hotel room with the man at the front desk.

“Yeah, that’s why I thought you might want to just stay here with Bridget.” At his statement, they both instinctively looked down at their daughter, still sleeping soundly along Riley’s side. Riley knew it wasn’t ideal that they decided to let her sleep in the same bed with them last night, but they didn’t really have any other options when the hotel employee told Drake there were no cribs available. And truth be told, Riley hadn’t wanted to let Bridget leave her side. Things were still too raw, too fresh.

“You don’t want me to come along?” 

Drake shook his head slowly as he gently placed a hand on Bridget’s head. “I just figured it might be nice for her to be able to crawl and play and all that. Try and make things a little more normal for her, I guess.”

He did have a point. Normally, Bridget was able to crawl around and explore while they were taking meetings at Valtoria. Even on days where they had to go to the palace, one of them usually stuck with Bridget in her room there while the other handled all the official business. And Bridget was definitely at an age where she wanted to move about her environment. She didn’t like being restrained for too long.

“Okay. So you’re just going to get us a car then?”

He paused for a moment. “I think we need more than a car, Riley. I’m gonna try and find somewhere that sells outdoor supplies and camping gear. Plus a travel crib and a car seat for her. Maybe some toys, too.”

“You think we’re going to have to camp out to stay safe?”

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “I would rather have a tent and some sleeping bags and not need them than have to panic and hide out with nothing.”

She swallowed roughly before she responded, staring down at their daughter, still passed out and oblivious to everything that had transpired in the past day. “How bad do you think things are going to get for us, Drake?”

He didn’t answer her right away, so after a few seconds she looked up and found him staring at her intently. “I have no idea. This will probably all just be a wild story if Liam keeps his title, but if Barthelemy succeeds… fuck, Riley. Every law enforcement agent in the EU will have the right to arrest us for kidnapping and send us back.”

“This is insanity. She’s our kid. Why would other countries recognize us traveling with her as a kidnapping?”

There was another pause as Drake glanced down, staring at the floor. “Because she’s Cordonia’s kid before she’s our kid. And kidnapping is one of the crimes that doesn’t require criminality verification in the arresting country under a European Arrest Warrant.” She just stared at him, wondering why this was yet another piece of random trivia he knew. As if he could read her thoughts, he glanced up and continued, “I did some research when I couldn’t sleep last night.” 

“So another country would really just send us back for taking her out of Cordonia?”

“She’s legally Cordonia’s child.”

Riley sighed, trying to keep tears of frustration from forming. She’d cried enough yesterday, she didn’t need Drake thinking she wasn’t up to this again. But it just was a shitty situation. One they never should have been in at all.

“It’s not right, Drake.”

“No, it’s not. But it’s a little late to change that fact now.”

A wave of guilt washed over Riley as his words hung in the air. She could have put a stop to this bullshit long ago. She should have put a stop to it. And now everything was teetering on the edge of disaster. But she had to get a grip. She was not going to be an emotional mess today. So she took one last deep breath before responding to Drake.

“I think your plan makes sense. Can you stay with her while I get cleaned up before you go?”

Drake frowned just slightly, clearly wondering about the slight redirection of their conversation, but he nodded slowly, scooping up Bridget laying her across his chest as he settled down on top of the covers while Riley dug through the bag of clothing, trying to find something to wear.

As she showered, the lukewarm-at-best water pelting over her hair and skin, she tried to keep her thoughts from spiraling. Things were bad, but they could have been worse. They were together. They were able to withdraw money yesterday, so their accounts weren’t frozen yet. And they had some of their basic needs covered, thanks to Ray.

Ray had bought them several changes of clothing, some basic toiletries, more diapers and formula, and a few days of food before returning to Cordonia. He hadn’t let them pay for any of it, which was far too kind considering they’d lied to him and possibly made him an accessory to kidnapping. But he’d remained helpful and unfazed when they’d confessed that Lythikos was supposed to be their destination, not Greece. And he’d gotten them fairly well set up before he got back in the town car to return to Cordonia, a much appreciated kindness.

She wondered how things had gone when he spoke to Olivia, how pissed off she was about it all. Olivia hadn’t called them since they told her they were committed to staying away from Cordonia, so Riley had no idea how she was handling everything or how the hearing went. Hana had called again last night. She was alone at their home, trying to pack up a few of their personal belongings in hopes of getting them to them at some point if needed. She’d been kind and gentle, asking if there were certain items of clothing or specific toys that should be a priority. Riley didn’t know how Hana intended to get those belongings to them, but it was a sweet gesture. Even though she knew Hana wished they’d stayed in Cordonia, she felt grateful that her friend was trying to help them, even if she disagreed with Riley’s actions.

So there were some silver linings. But overall, things felt overwhelming and out of control. Riley had known somewhere in her mind that things were going to be horrible and stressful and mad difficult when she’d decided to get Bridget out of Cordonia as quickly as possible yesterday. But after a little sleep - admittedly very little given how upset she was about everything - things felt like they could quickly become insurmountable. 

But she just couldn’t bring herself to head back for Cordonia. No matter how many worries she had about how the three of them were going to get through things going forward, there was a better chance of them being together through it all outside that country, and she just felt safer, knowing there would at least be more difficulties for Barthelemy and any of his posse to get their hands on her daughter. Nothing about Cordonia was safe. And while she wished she’d been able to recognize that earlier, she couldn’t go back now. Not when it finally felt like her eyes were open. 

Stepping out of the shower, she quickly dressed and ran a comb through her hair, brushing her teeth and popping in her contacts before leaving the bathroom. She heard Bridget’s giggles and babbles right away. Turning into the main part of the small hotel room, she saw Drake sitting on the edge of the bed, bouncing Bridget on his knees as he held her in a standing position. She loved being stood upright like that, and it seemed like she’d be pulling up to stand on her own any day now.

When Drake saw Riley, he scooped Bridget into his arms and scooted off the bed. “She only woke up about 10 minutes ago. I can feed her before I head out if you want.”

“No, I’ve got it,” Riley said with a little shake of her head, taking Bridget as she got out a bottle, the formula, and a bottle of water. She was a bit surprised to see Drake digging through the diaper bag, pulling out all the money they’d managed to withdraw from their accounts yesterday. They’d both hemmed and hawed about pulling funds from the accounts tied to Valtoria, but eventually decided on doing it. After all, compared to kidnapping and treason, embezzlement charges were really just a drop in the ocean.

“You’re taking all the cash?”

“We haven’t heard from Olivia or Hana since last evening. Either things are still in progress, or they can’t safely get in touch with us. If it’s the latter, our accounts might be frozen now. I need to be prepared.”

Riley didn’t like the thought of being left without any money, even if she knew Drake was right. It left her feeling vulnerable, or rather even more vulnerable. She couldn’t help it, and a small, shaky little sigh escaped.

Drake pivoted to look at her, his eyes intense. “I’m trusting you not to take off with my kid while I’m gone. It seems like the least you could do is trust me not to take off with the money.”

There was just a hint of bitterness in his voice, but mostly he just sounded tired. Riley knew she was being callous with him. It was just hard to not let all her fears and worries spill over into everything she did and said at this point.

“You’re right; I’m sorry,” she said as she shook up the bottle of formula.

Drake let out a sigh, tucked the money in his wallet, and dropped a kiss on both her and Bridget’s foreheads. “Hopefully, I’ll be back in a few hours. Call if you need me, okay?”

She nodded and gave him a small little smile, but then he was off, hopefully to pull more cash and to get them some transportation. It was just her and Bridget, and even though that was her initial plan yesterday, it felt very lonely at the moment.

“Oh, Peanut. Mama has turned Daddy into a fugitive,” she cooed, giving Bridget the bottle. Figuring she should probably put this time to good use, she grabbed her phone quickly while Bridget actually had a good grasp on the bottle and sat down on the end of the bed, pulling up “How to run from law enforcement” as a search. At this point, they were going to be able to trace their ATM withdrawals anyway. If they somehow got ahold of her digital records from this phone, well, this search wouldn’t tell them anything they didn’t already know. Better to be at least a little prepared when Drake got back and they had to plan their next steps.

After reading for a few minutes, Riley swiped open her contacts list and tapped Drake’s name at the top of her favorites list. He answered almost instantly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, we’re fine. I just have something else you should buy.”

“What?”

“Burner phones.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was almost like deja vu, sitting in the same seat in the same courtroom as once again everyone rose to their feet except Barthelemy and himself. This time, Liam knew that staying seated would probably not be an option when the justice left the courtroom. He probably should have risen now, to be honest. The no-confidence vote that happened this morning was almost certainly going to stand. But Liam wasn’t ready to look defeated. He would wait until this hearing concluded before deferring and recognizing that anyone else might hold the power of the crown. 

The parties present today were almost identical to last night, with the addition of Hakim and Kiara on Barthelemy’s side and Hana on his. Normally, a different High Court justice would have been assigned since High Justice Questa had literally just ruled on an emergency hearing, but given that the same parties were named, she had volunteered to see this through. The usher waited until she sat down before once again announcing that all parties had been sworn in. As soon as he was finished, the justice looked from desk to desk, annoyance clearly written all over her face. It wasn’t surprising, but it didn’t bode well for either legal team. 

“Not even 24 hours later, gentlemen? You really are determined to not let me have my weekend, aren’t you?” High Justice Questa said with a sigh and a shake of her head. “Did we manage to actually legally call the Conventus Nobilis today? It looks like it was all in order based on this documentation from both parties,” she said as she flipped through stacks of paper, “a no-confidence vote that passed with a margin of three to two and installed the patriarch of House Beaumont as king-regent, so I’m not sure what your case is, Mr. Rys.”

Liam fought to keep his face steady. He’d been expecting it, mentally preparing for it, but hearing his surname used instead of his title, a surname that he almost never had needed in his life still burned inside him, a deep pain and sense of failure, both on a personal and public level.

“Your Honor, my client is not challenging the loss of his power. He is now acting as a concerned citizen who believes that the transfer of power to the defendant was illegally performed,” Diana stated calmly as she rose and leaned in to the microphone.

“A concerned citizen? Right, I’m sure that’s his only motivation. Regardless, the brief you submitted is compelling. There obviously isn’t a large amount of precedent for me to base my decision on, so I am going to carefully listen to oral arguments to supplement and clarify the briefs both parties submitted. Additionally, depending on the intricacies of how different historical and modern laws intersect with this… unusual combination of circumstances, I may just offer a provisional ruling with a formal hearing scheduled in front of the full High Court as soon as possible if I feel this is too complex and unprecedented to be decided by just myself. Do both parties understand?”

Both Diana and Charles acknowledged her statement, then Diana delved into her arguments.

“Your Honor, if a reigning monarch is removed from the throne, the law clearly states that next in line for the throne should assume a role of king- or queen-regent until a Conclave can be held, at which time the major noble houses will determine the new royal line. Additionally, Cordonian law states that any direct heirs to the throne who have not come of age should have at least two regents recorded in case of their ascension to the throne before they reach adulthood. Given that these two laws are clear, I do not believe that the results of the Conventus Nobilis vote can legally do any more than remove my client from power. The major houses do not have the power to name anyone they’d like as regent.

“Bridget Walker is the clear queen-regent at this point, Your Honor, and the documentation submitted with her anointing named the Duchess and Duke of Valtoria as her regents. Therefore, it is our contention that one of them should serve as regent until a Conclave can legally occur. It seems like the most logical conclusion from the laws on file.”

“The issue, Diana, is that both the Duchess and Duke of Valtoria were named in the no-confidence vote as well. At least, that’s what I assume you are going to tell me, Charles,” High Justice Questa said as she turned slightly in her chair to face the defense desk.

“Indeed, Your Honor. The results of that vote clearly indicate that the majority of the major noble houses fear for our country’s well-being and prosperity if either of the Walkers are allowed to serve this country as regent. My client has graciously offered to step into that role, seeing as the Duchess of Valtoria was sponsored by House Beaumont and is therefore an honorary member.”

“Your issue, Charles, is that your client can’t legally do that,” High Justice Questa added, tilting her head and raising her eyebrows. The fact that she was tearing through Barthelemy’s team’s arguments just as quickly as she had their own was a small reassurance. 

“He may have offered his services, but the majority of the noble houses support his regency as well.”

“Yes, but they don’t have that power either. They only get to name a new monarch, acting or otherwise, during a Conclave. And the vote today was not a Conclave, was it Charles?”

“No, Your Honor. A Conclave has to occur at the end of a Social Season.”

“Exactly. The regents for an heir who is too young to rule are decided by the reigning monarch at the time of the heir’s anointment, not by anyone else. In this case, since our new Queen-Regent was not born into the royal bloodline, but established in her position via Royal Decree, it is a noted precedent to allow the child’s parents to have a say in who is named as his or her regents. Why your client has decided he can just sidestep all of that is concerning. He’s claimed the power of the law for himself while being ignorant of our country’s laws at best, or with a willful disregard for them at worst. And quite frankly, the fact that the actual head of House Beaumont, his elder son, voted against him is not exactly a ringing endorsement.”

“Your Honor, someone needs to act as Queen-Regent Bridget’s regent!”

“Indeed, but not your client. The High Court does not recognize Lord Beaumont as acting regent at this time. Now, Diana,” High Justice Questa continued, not missing a beat, “your client was the reigning monarch at the time of Queen-Regent Bridget’s anointing. I see in your briefs that he has offered up two alternative regents for Queen-Regent Bridget - Lady Hana Lee or Lord Maxwell Beaumont.”

This had been part of their strategy, devised wearily sometime after 2 am and numerous cups of coffee. Since it was unlikely that the no-confidence vote was going to go their way, Diana had suggested naming alternate regents for Bridget, ones that would both be more sympathetic to his cause and that would be believable as alternate choices from Drake and Riley. Picking Hana and Maxwell had been the obvious choice.

“Your Honor!” Charles called out upon hearing those names, but he immediately quieted and sat back down when High Justice Questa raised her hand. She nodded at Diana, indicating she should continue in spite of the outburst from the opposing legal team.

“Yes, Your Honor. They are Queen-Regent Bridget’s godparents, indicating that the Duchess and Duke of Valtoria would have approved of either of them for this role, and my client is in total agreement.”

The justice didn’t respond immediately, but started flipping through a briefing, skimming a section when she arrived at the part she clearly wanted to discuss. Liam knew this was going to be their largest issue. They’d attempted to word the briefing carefully, not making it immediately apparent that Drake and Riley hadn’t actually been involved with the decision to name Hana and Maxwell up as alternative regents. But Questa was quick, and she had a great mind for details. The fact that this was the point in the hearing that she was explicitly referencing the text did not bode well for them.

“Diana, I’m looking at your wording here, where you mention your client’s reasoning for naming those two as possibilities for this role. Neither in your statement just now nor in this document do you ever quote the Walkers to indicate their approval. Is there a reason for this?”

Diana tried to be subtle, but Liam noticed her taking a deep breath before she responded, “Your Honor, we didn’t have a chance to speak to them directly. However, their-”

“I’m going to stop you right there. You didn’t have a chance to talk to them? Really?” Whatever scorn Questa held for Barthelemy, Liam felt it directed his way now, but at least doubled or tripled. She’d seen right through their little bluff.

“Everything has been so rushed, Your Honor,” Diana tried to justify, but Liam knew there was no salvaging this situation at this point.

“It seems like talking to the Duchess and Duke of Valtoria should have been high on your priority list to me. Common sense would indicate that if your argument was that those two individuals, in addition to your client, are responsible for naming a regent, actually getting them to name a regent would be pretty important to your case. So tell me, why haven’t you spoken to them regarding this matter? In fact, why aren’t they here in person? Last night I figured they had already put their daughter to sleep and were reluctant to leave her, but it’s-” she glanced quickly at her watch “-not even 5 pm. This seems like an important hearing for their family.”

“I haven’t been able to get in touch with them, Your Honor.”

High Justice Questa’s shoulders sagged slightly before she asked the question Liam was dreading. “Does your client even know their location at this time?”

Diana leaned over to him and whispered, “How do you want to play this, sir?”

He’d pulled Diana aside last night and informed her that Drake, Riley, and Bridget had likely fled the country, and that he had been choosing to stay ignorant of any information that would confirm that fact. She’d encouraged him to report his suspicions officially right then, insisting that he was her client, not them, but Liam didn’t feel throwing them to the wolves was the correct call.  He was frustrated and personally hurt, but he knew there was no malice behind their actions. Besides, it wasn’t likely to improve his situation. So, he’d insisted on sticking to his technical ignorance then, and he had no intention of deviating from that plan now.

“As we discussed, Diana”

With a little nod, she returned to her microphone. “He believes that they headed to Lythikos at the invitation of Duchess Nevrakis for some privacy, but he hasn’t spoken to them since they were on the road.”

Questa’s reaction was immediate, her eyes closing and a hand rubbing roughly over them. She looked completely done with the actions of everyone in the room. Liam honestly couldn’t blame her. He was well aware that from an outside perspective, both he and Barthelemy looked like bumbling fools at the moment. On the other side of the courtroom, Liam noticed significant whispering and chatter. Clearly, Barthelemy’s camp was speculating on what that statement meant. 

“Well, you all have decided to make this as messy as possible, haven’t you?” High Justice Questa mused to the room, interrupting all the side conversations. “Alright, this is what we’re going to do. I’m calling a recess until tomorrow at 9 am to allow the prosecution time to produce the Walkers. No statements, no hearsay, no speculation, they will be here in my court. If they are not present, sanctions will be issued, and the standing of their house and titles will be subject to review.

“As for the matter of Queen-Regent Bridget’s regent, that will be decided with or without their input at that time. If they are not produced, Mr. Rys will make the determination on his own. However, I would urge Mr. Rys to reconsider his choices for that role, because based on the reaction to the names you provided from the defense desk, I envision yet another summoning of the Conventus Nobilis if either of them get installed as regent. And if you think I’m impatient now, you do not want to see me if I am forced to preside over another emergency hearing.”

She paused for a moment, giving both desks intense, meaningful stares before continuing to issue her decision. 

“Now, as we are currently left with no clear agent to act as monarch, I will defer to several old Cordonian statutes. First, a king or queen who is too young to rule will be overseen by a regent who is the next in line for the throne over the age of majority, unless otherwise specified. Given that the Walkers are not eligible anymore due to the vote of no confidence, we will proceed through succession. Seeing as Mr. Rys is the last in his family line and our new queen-regent obviously has no heirs, based on the foundational statutes, Cordonia would revert to Nevrakis rule. Good news is the head of House Nevrakis is here and now knows she’s Queen-Regent for the next handful of hours. This is a provisional appointment only, as it is customary to allow a few days to establish a regency, and a new regent is set to be named tomorrow, so the powers of the monarch will only be enacted in emergency situations. Is that clear?” she asked, staring past Liam to where Oliva was seated.

“Yes, Your Honor.” Liam heard Olivia say from behind him, loud and clear even without a microphone. Olivia gaining power was an obvious victory today, but only a temporary one. If they attempted to leave her in power, Barthelmey would undoubtedly call for another vote from the Conventus Nobilis.

Upon hearing her response, Questa turned slightly towards the defense desk. Barthelemy was clearly fuming, but she continued speaking before that legal team could get a word out. “And before you get all outraged, Charles, I would encourage you to use this as motivation to urge your client to strongly consider letting the regent presented tomorrow stand instead of challenging yet another leader. Because the longer it takes for these two parties to reach an agreement, the longer she-” High Justice Questa said as she gestured to Olivia “-retains provisional powers of the monarch, something I’m guessing your client does not desire. Is everyone clear of my expectations?”

Murmurs of assent came from both desks, following which Questa gave a curt nod and tapped her gavel, bringing the hearing to a close for the day. Liam rose to watch her leave. He had now officially lost the right to stay seated. Oddly, he felt almost numb about that fact. There were so many other things happening that required his attention. 

He was expected to bring Drake and Riley to court tomorrow, and he was fairly certain that would not be a task that was possible for him to complete. This meant he needed to find another possible regent, one that Barthelemy and his allies would not attempt to remove from the throne but who would also be unlikely to bend to Barthelemy’s whims and schemes. Realistically, he needed to figure out Barthelemy’s endgame here. It would help him better plan for his next steps, including a bid to retake the throne at the Conclave, and if he was lucky, in the short term, it might even help him determine someone to suggest as regent who would be willing to show leniency to Drake and Riley. Allow him the chance to convince them to return to Cordonia, although the fact that Bridget was now the queen-regent did complicate matters more.

He saw Barthelemy approaching him, but Diana stopped him. “I’m sorry, but since this hearing is still pending, I’ve advised my client to not speak to you directly at this time.”

He let out a little huff, but went to rejoin his lawyers, allowing Liam to turn to Olivia, Hana, Maxwell, and Bertrand, all huddled in a little cluster behind him. 

“How are you, Liam?” Hana asked, patting his shoulder gently with her hand, her eyes full of concern and worry.

“It is all a lot to process at the moment, but today could have gone worse, I suppose,” Liam responded, trying to keep his voice calm. Any emotional response on his part needed to wait until they were someplace private. “I guess we need to find a place to reconvene now that the palace is no longer an option.”

Olivia frowned, “Who says it’s not an option? If I’m the provisional regent, I think we can easily return for tonight.”

“Are the optics of that wise? I wouldn’t want it to look like you were abusing the temporary powers Questa granted you.”

She just shrugged. “I honestly don’t care. They can’t touch me in any way that matters, and it’s not like I’ll be making a bid during the Conclave since I’ll be sponsoring you.”

Her nonchalant statement gave Liam pause. Although the Rys lineage could be traced back for hundreds of years, House Rys wasn’t one of the five major houses and therefore could not put up a candidate. He hoped she was comfortable with that offer and didn’t resent him for taking away her chance to be queen. The tone of her voice was just so matter-of-fact and resigned, and it made Liam wonder. But for now, he needed to focus on the short term, not the long term.

“I suppose it might be nice to clean out my office,” he said, soft enough that he was sure no one but the people right next to him could hear. The last thing he needed was Barthelemy to somehow get his hands on all sorts of official documents and start combing through them.

Olivia gave him a crisp nod of agreement before spinning to face Maxwell and Bertrand. “Alright you two - Ramsford first. Bertrand, repeat after me, ‘Documents detailing my father’s incompetence are more important than heirloom cutlery.’”

“Lady Olivia, I hardly-”

“It’s now ‘Your Regency, Bertrand,” she said, throwing in a little wink and chuckle as Bertrand started to sputter out apologies. “Seriously though. Maxwell, you need to keep him focused. Preventing your father from gaining control of House Beaumont is imperative.

“After you’re done at Ramsford, head to Lythikos. Now, Maxwell, repeat after me. ‘Literally anything I want to touch will probably maim or kill me, so I will touch nothing but my pillow.’ Bertrand, I’m counting on you from stopping him from causing serious bodily harm to himself or others.”

After the brothers expressed their agreement and left the courtroom, Liam noticed Olivia and Hana shooting glances towards each other. There was no one left in the room but Diana and the junior attorney with her today, Nicolas, so whatever they were silently communicating must be something that they wanted to keep from the legal team.

“Diana, Nicolas, we are meeting back at the palace. We can probably use the monarch’s office for tonight. But starting tomorrow, we will likely be relocating-” he glanced at Olivia, who nodded deeply “-to Lythikos. If you two wouldn’t mind heading back to the palace and determining who on the team is still willing to serve as my legal counsel now that I am no longer king, that would be a helpful next step. Say we meet up again in one hour?”

The lawyers agreed to the plan, leaving Liam alone with Olivia and Hana. “Alright, what couldn’t you bring up until they left?”

Hana passed him a sheet of paper. On it were two phone numbers, written in perfect cursive.

“What’s this?”

“Since you no longer are king, we thought maybe you would not want to be left in the dark anymore.”

It only took him a second to realize what Hana was saying and what the phone numbers implied.

“They got burner phones?”

Olivia let out a little sigh. “Yup. And if you want to talk to them, our next step should be getting you one, too.”

Permatag:  @walkerswhiskeygirl​   @riley--walker​  @bebepac​ @ravenpuff02​ @oofchoices​ @octobereighth​ @drakewalker04​ @kimmiedoo5​  @mfackenthal​  @thequeenofcronuts​  

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @ao719​ @mskaneko​ @katedrakeohd​ @jovialyouthmusic​ @marshmallowsandfire​ @axwalker​ @kingliam2019​ @sirbeepsalot​ @texaskitten30​ @princessleac1​ @ladyangel70​ @dcbbw​ @yaushie​

Drake x MC: @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria​  @iplaydrake​ @gibbles82​ @drakewalkerisreal​ @notoriouscs​  @drakesensworld​ @drake-colt-lover-99​

Fight or Flight: @masterofbluff​ @burnsoslow​ @bobasheebaby​ @shz256​ @iaminlovewithtrr​​

[twdeadfanfic]

First and Last Pt.20

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary:  There’s only one girl that Daryl has ever fallen in love with, the one who had to leave him and break both their hearts, and the one he’d tried his best to erase from his memory so it wouldn’t hurt that bad. There’s no way he could have guessed that he’d find her again, more than seventeen years later, after the world went to shit and the dead began walking, both their lifes different that what they used to be.

Tags: Sequel to my mini-series “The first to blow your mind.”  You can find it in my mastelist and read it before this or after it as a prequel, or you don’t need to read it.. Daryl’s POV. My usual combo of slow-burn, fluff and angst. Slight canon deviance. Light smut.

Chapter: 20/28 Updated on Monday and Thursday.

You can find my masterlist with more chapters and fics in the description of my tumblr.

*

Taking watch must be one of the most boring things Daryl was ever told to do. There was nothing else for him to do though, he had gone hunting the day before, coming back with a few squirrels and a few rabbits that were now stew for the next couple of weeks, so he didn’t really need to go out again. Still, he wanted to go further one day, far from Alexandria’s smells and noises, and get a deer that would feed them for longer.

But it wasn’t too urgent, and so when Rick had asked him if he could take watch in the north of the wall, he had thought he should agree instead of going looking for something else to do, no matter it was boring.

That, and the fact that Y/N were with Sasha on the east lookout and if he leaned over the railing and looked through the scope, he could see her. He hoped she wouldn’t mind…he didn’t want to watch her, he was just…curious, he couldn’t help it.

When Y/N had been delivering the stew rations to the people’s houses, she had stopped on his family’s. Rick was there, and somehow he and Y/N had ended up talking about her work at the pantry, and Rick seemed to have noticed that Y/N wasn’t that happy working just there. He’d offered her a job taking watch, it was safer than going out on runs when she hadn’t been training for that long, and also he’d said Sasha might train her with the sniper rifle from there.

Daryl leaned over and squinted, looking at the other lookout. He could see Sasha and Y/N talking, holding the rifles and aiming beyond the walls. Before, he’d seen them studying the rifles or something like that, he wasn’t sure from that distance. Next time that he looked at them, it was because he heard a gunshot. He looked through his own scoop and saw a walker dead on the ground. He dropped the rifle and squinted again to look at them. Sasha seemed to be celebrating, so Y/N had shot the walker. Damn yes. She was always making him proud. She was good with the knife and now she was going to get good with the rifle too.

“Are you really spying on your girlfriend?” Came Lisa’s voice from downstairs. “With a sniper rifle and all, like it’s not creepy at all?”

“Shut up, I ain’t spying on no one.” He grumbled back, flustered.

“Whatever you say…”

Daryl just scoffed again and he didn’t bother saying anything else.

By the time his shift ended and someone else came to take watch, Y/N was still with Sasha up there, and so he decided to go back home.

Home…He had been living with Y/N and Jane for a few days now, and it still sounded strange. Not in a bad way, no, not at all, just strange. He didn’t think he had ever had something like that. Never thought he’d get to have it.  But there he was.

Dawn and Jane were sat down at Robert’s porch, reading or doing homework, or Daryl wasn’t sure what. They waved at him before focusing back on whatever they were doing, and Daryl walked into Y/N’s place…which he guessed was kind of his place now…but he always called it Y/N’s anyway.

There was a book on the coffee table, the same one she’d read a thousand times before already. He needed to ask Glenn if he thought there’d be a place where he could go on a run and find books, by now he was sure Y/N had read every book in Alexandria. That one was one of hers, though, one she liked, Aaron had gotten it for her a long while ago. Daryl picked it up carefully and began to read it while he waited for Y/N to come back.

He hadn’t been reading for long when finally the front door opened and closed, and Y/N walked into the living room. “Hi there.”

“Hey.” He smiled at her, leaving the book on the table again. “How was training?”

“You tell me,” Y/N smirked and Daryl found himself blushing. “I know you were looking.”

“I…uh…it ain’t…” He babbled, but Y/N just chuckled and sat down on the sofa next to him, wrapping an arm around him to snuggle to him…so maybe she wasn’t mad.

“It was good…it wasn’t as difficult as I thought. I mean, it’s difficult, but I managed to land some shots. I like it. Sasha’s a good teacher. But damn, my arms hurt now…and my shoulder and my neck.” She complained with another chuckle, pulling back to roll her shoulders.

“Come here.” Daryl tugged at her until her back was to him so he could place his hands on her shoulders to try and ease the knots away.

“That feels good…” Y/N murmured as she tilted her head forwards and pushed her hair to one side so he could move up her neck. “Didn’t know you gave massages and that you were good at it. How’s that you never gave me any all those years ago? Or did you learn after I left?”

“I didn’t learn…I ain’t good.” He just went by instinct.

“Well, I beg to differ,” Y/N almost purred and Daryl couldn’t help how good about himself it made him feel.

After a while of easing the strained muscles as best as he could, he began just caressing her skin, not that she seemed to mind, she was still smiling with her eyes closed, humming contently from time to time. He leaned closer to kiss her neck softly, and she chuckled softly, tilting her neck to give him more room.

“If this’s what I’m gonna get every time I go training with Sasha, I’m going to go up there every day.” She murmured, chuckling quietly and he didn’t say anything, just trailed kisses over her neck until she pulled away.

She didn’t go far, though, just turned around so she could face him. She smiled, reaching out to run her fingers through his hair, shifting to straddle him, and then she was kissing him. When their lips parted, she arched her neck, the hand that she had at the back of his head pushing him closer to her neck in case he didn’t catch the drift, and he chuckled against his skin before kissing it.

“That is, time’s up,” he teased, pulling back. “You just put down a couple of walkers meters away from you with a sniper rifle, it ain’t such a big deal.”

“Oh, isn’t it now? Okay, next time you’re shooting your crossbow and you need to reload but walkers keep coming, you’re gonna be begging me to shoot with my new discovered great aim, and I’m not going to do it.” She grinned.

“Bullshit, you wouldn’t let me get eaten.”

“Sadly, I’m too attached to you, it’s been a problem...for the last seventeen years…” She sighed dramatically before chuckling and bumping his nose, and then leaning to nuzzle it with hers and Daryl took advantage to peck her lips.

“It was a big deal, though, you did great today with the riffle,” Daryl said as he caressed her hair, he wanted her to know he was proud.

“It’s really not that hard, the scoop does most of the job…”

“Nah, nah, you still need skill.” He shut her before she could put herself down. “But if you want to try a riffle that ain’t a sniper one, a gun or something, we can. We can go out one day, take a silencer, practice.”

“Yeah?” Y/N asked and Daryl hummed a yes, nodding. The more weapons she knew how to use, the safer she would be, he wanted her learning everything she could, and he knew she wanted it too. “Can I try the crossbow too?”

Daryl nodded, it’d be more useful than a firearm if you asked him, silent, and you could make your ammo. He’d teach her to do that too.

“I’ve been wanting to try that thing since…forever.” She giggled. Daryl scoffed, but he couldn’t help his smile at her. “And when I’ll find that my aim with the crossbow is great, I’m getting more massages?”

“I don’t know…” He teased but he was already leaning to kiss her neck again.

He trailed soft kisses over her neck, getting more daring with every little, beautiful sound that she let out. He gently sucked on a spot behind her ear and was rewarded with a quiet moan that made him smile against her skin as he kept kissing and biting her flesh ever so softly, he couldn’t help how he loved to make her feel like that. Her hips began to rock gently against his, making his pulse speed up. The hands that he had on her waist moved to run under her shirt, stroking the warm skin of her hips and belly, which made her writhe harder on his lap.

She placed her hands on top of his under her shirt, moving them up until he reached her breasts. Daryl was hesitant, fingers trembling as he swallowed hard, but she made him press his hands against them before encouraging him to slid his hands under her sports bra.

Once he got the cue, Y/N took her hands away, placing one on his shoulder, while she ran a finger across her own next with the other, signaling him to keep going. He smiled and went for her neck again, harder this time, placing open-mouthed kisses over her neck, he couldn’t stop himself, but she didn’t seem to mind, if he could take her moan as a cue, while his hands moved over her breasts, fingers trembling ever so slightly.

Then, though, she was pulling away, and Daryl looked at her confused. She was breathing hard, looking at him in a way that made his heart beat faster. “I’m not doing this on a sofa,” she murmured. “Bed, now.” Before she could get up, though, Daryl did, making sure to wrap his arms under her thighs to hoist her up with him, and Y/N laughed as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Okay, I like this.” She grinned. “It’s kind of hot.” Daryl scoffed, blushing as he tried not to let shyness take over him, and he began walking them both to the stairs. “I can walk up myself.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” He began walking up the stairs without putting her down.

“This is fun but if you drop me I kick your ass.”

“Ain’t dropping you, woman, stop complaining.” He stopped to gently bit at her neck, making her laugh.

Daryl kept walking up the stairs and to her room…his room now, too, even if it still sounded strange in his head, and he carefully let her fall onto the bed. She grinned at him, sitting up and pulling her shirt over her head, followed by her bra, and Daryl swallowed hard as he looked at her. She gave him a shy smile, biting her lips before she popped open the button of her pants, sliding them down her legs along with her underwear and throwing it to the floor near her shirt.

“Are you going to come here or are you just going to keep staring?” She teased nervously, her skin blushed pink. “Because I might hide under the coverts…”

Daryl kicked himself into movement, joining her in the bed, somehow hesitant of placing his hands on her bare skin as he kissed her. She leaned back on the bed, her head landing on the pillow, and she pulled him with her, kissing him again, and he couldn’t help himself from groaning softly into her mouth when her hands ran under his shirt, caressing his stomach and up to his chest before she began trying to pull it off him.

He complied, taking his shirt off, and Y/N sat up slightly to kiss his chest, up to his neck, and Daryl bit his lip as another quiet moan escaped him. She leaned back onto the bed again, her hands caressing his skin again, this time stopping at the buckle of his belt. “Can I?” She whispered and Daryl nodded, swallowing hard. She unbuckled his belt and after another nod from him she opened his pants, and Daryl helped her take them off him.

He crawled on top of her again before he could be overwhelmed by the need of hiding under the covers, as Y/N had said, and he kissed her deeply, letting one of his hands slide down to caress her bare thigh, and he gasped when she wrapped that leg around his hips, pulling him down even closer to her.

“Okay?” She whispered and Daryl couldn’t find his voice but he nodded.

Without stopping looking at him, she placed her hand on top of his on her thigh and then she guided it between her legs until his fingers founder her center and she let out a shuddered moan at the contact. Daryl’s breath picked up, his heart beating even faster as he let her guide his movements, letting out all those little sounds that drove him crazy.

Soon she was letting go of his hand, allowing him to keep going on his own, and Daryl was sure he could never be tired of seeing her writhing and squirming under him, rocking her hips as she panted, quiet moans leaving her lips from time to time. He leaned down to kiss her, he couldn’t get enough of her.

Her eyes were shut closed, her mouth open as she panted, but then her hand reached down to stop his movements and Daryl frowned at her, worrying he’d done something wrong. “Did I-” She didn’t let him finish, tugging at him to fall down on top of her and kissing him hard.

“I want you,” she whined against his lips before kissing him again, still panting, and her words alone made him groan, nodding wordlessly again. She didn’t miss a second, reaching down between them to guide him to her, making him groan again at the contact, and when he finally buried himself in her, he had to kiss her to stifle the moan that left his lips.

She was panting and whimpering against his lips too, her hands clutching at his shoulders as he began to rock gently against her, ever so careful with her, until she arched against him, her leg around him pulling him even closer, and the moan that left her lips when he picked up the pace sent shivers through him. She felt so damn good, had something ever felt that good…

Daryl was glad she was already close because, with the way she was making him feel and all those sweet sounds she was letting out, he knew he wouldn’t last long.  She was breathing harder, harder, arching to him and then she cried out, her nails scratching his shoulders, digging into his skin, and when he kissed her neck again she let out another of those moans that he loved, shivering under him as her thighs squeezed his hips, coming undone.

It didn’t take him long to follow her, his mind vaguely registering that in fact, this is how people got pregnant and that’s the last thing you needed in that world, and he barely remembered to pull out of her before he finished, groaning and falling on top of her. She was panting just like him, her arms holding him to her as one of her hands caressed his hair, and then she began placing little kisses on the top of his head, his temple, his cheek…

Daryl couldn’t stop his smile, nuzzling into her neck. If he’d ever felt this good he didn’t remember. He snuggled to her, eyes closed, enjoying the way in which her fingers caressed his skin and the buzz running down his body, before his brain was actually capable of forming thoughts again.

“You could get pregnant,” he blurted out…great, wonderful, just great, he had to open his mouth and that had to be the first words that come out of it. Great.

Y/N snorted. “You trying to tell me something?”

Daryl blushed up to his hears again. “I…I…”

“No, no, I know, you’re right,” Y/N stopped his babble. “I’m sorry, I get a bit carried away I guess…” She chuckled shyly. “But you’re right, we’ll be careful, okay?” He nodded and she smiled, kissing his lips.

He snuggled to her again but she tried to pull away way too soon. “Where’re you going?”

“To get cleaned,” she said, trying to move from under him but he didn’t let her, he was too comfortable like that. “Shower.” He just snuggled more into her and she let out a giggle, holding him tight and kissing his head, but then she was trying to move away again, and again he didn’t let her. “Daryl, come on,” she half whined half laughed.

She tickled his side, making him yelp and roll away from her. “You’re mean,” he grumbled and she laughed, grinning and pecking his lips before sitting up and getting up from the bed. He got up from the bed too, heading to the window to check that Jane and Dawn were still on Robert’s garden, though he couldn’t really see into his porch from there.

“Afraid the kids are gonna walk on us?” Y/N teased and he just shrugged, but yeah, he’d die of embarrassment probably. “They’re probably at Robert’s, it’s okay.” She walked behind him and wrapped her arms around him, kissing his shoulder. “Plus, the bedroom is locked, if Jane walks on us I’d have to crawl in a hole and never get out.” She chuckled and Daryl nodded at that. “Now, come to the shower. I’m not asking.”

Daryl snorted but he didn’t fight her, letting her take his hand and walk them both to the bathroom. She turned on the water, stepping into the shower once it was warm and he followed her, watching as the spray of water fell over her, thinking once again how beautiful she was, until Y/N pulled him closer to her to stand under the water too.

Y/N stopped the water and took the bottle of shampoo, dropping some onto her palms and rubbing them together to create suds. She ran her hands through his hair, rubbing gently but firmly, and Daryl heard himself purring but he couldn’t feel embarrassed, her fingers playing with his hair felt too good. Once she seemed to deem his hair clean enough, she poured more shampoo onto her palms and began washing her own hair.

“You don’t trust me to do it?” He joked.

“Didn’t know you’d want to.” Sure, he had never washed anyone’s hair before, but he might as well try now, and so he began to run his hands through her hair and rub carefully at her scalp like she’d done to him, smiling when she hummed.

“I’d stay like this for hours if it weren’t because we’d freeze…” Y/N murmured before pulling away from him to take a bar of soap and run it across his body, lathering his skin, and Daryl’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel damn good too. When it was his turn to wash her body, though, he was almost shy about it, for some reason, his eyes following the soap as he moved it over her skin, getting more confident when she closed her eyes and smiled.

Once they were lathered, Y/N turned on the water again, raising the shampoo and soap off them. She got out of the shower and tossed him a big towel while she wrapped herself in her bathrobe. He followed her back to the room, watching how she took out some clean clothes for him from her closet. He didn’t know where she had gotten them from, he’d moved to her place with just his usual bag and what he was wearing, but she had made sure she had clothes for him. He was grateful she had thought about him but it felt a bit strange too, after so long having only what he had inside his bag…Alexandria and everything in it still felt a bit strange, but not bad, not anymore.

“It’s getting late,” Y/N said as she got dressed. “I’m going to pick up Jane, can you get started with dinner?”

“Sure thing.”

*

Plot, what’s plot anymore. Also I know some of you wanted more Jane and Daryl, and I promise they have quite a lot of scenes together in future chapters, but Y/N and him are kind of in “honey moon” phase, you know.

If you liked it and have a moment, please let me know your thoughts!

As always, excuse my english, is not my first language.

If you want to be (un)tagged let me know.

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[searchingwardrobes]

Self-Promo Sunday

This story has never been posted to tumblr before, but it’s still to this day my most popular one shot on Ao3 (by both hits and kudos). I still can hardly believe it because when I wrote it, I honestly didn’t think anyone would even read it, much less like it. There are certain expectations for one-night stand fics, and this fulfills none of them. Mainly, there’s no smut. I just loved the concept and had to write it, then was beyond thrilled that other people liked it too!

Summary: Ruby convinces Emma that the best way to finish off her birthday celebration is a one-night stand with the hot British guy at the bar. But, as usual, things never go as Emma plans.

Rating: T

Words: 4k and some change

Also on Ao3

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People talk about having a voice on either shoulder. Emma Swan has three. In the form of her three best friends. Ruby sees everything through the lens of fun. If it feels good do it, que-sera-sera and all of that. Sometimes Ruby helps Emma get perspective and lighten up. Other times she just gets her into trouble. Then there’s Mary Margaret, the hopeless romantic who thinks that out there somewhere is Emma’s true love, and once fate leads her to him, Emma’s life will just fall into place. Like what Mary Margaret has with David. Mary Margaret’s voice is usually the easiest for Emma to ignore. She stopped believing in fairy tale endings a long time ago. And then there’s Elsa, the practical one. She also just gets Emma because where Emma’s been called prickly, Elsa’s been called cold, so she understands Emma’s walls. But she also cuts to the chase and isn’t afraid to call Emma out on her crap. The only problem is when the words coming out of Elsa’s mouth sound like psycho-babble. So Emma’s constantly got three differing opinions chirping in her ear. Even when they aren’t present because she knows in every situation what each of them would say.

All three of them agreed, however, on the best way for Emma to spend her 28th birthday. So she left Henry with Granny and the four of them headed to New York. After a day of shopping and a Broadway show, they’re now in the hotel bar, and Ruby thinks the perfect way for Emma to cap off the day is with a no-strings attached night of passion with a good-looking guy.

“The last thing someone with Emma’s intimacy issues needs is casual sex, Ruby.”

That was cerebral Elsa, of course.

“Although,” puts in Mary Margaret, “striking up a conversation with someone wouldn’t be such a bad idea. You never know where it might lead.”

“Where could it possibly lead?” argues Elsa. “We’re on vacation. In a different state.”

“Why does it have to lead anywhere?” Ruby asks with a shrug, “I’m just trying to find a guy for her to bang. When was the last time you had sex anyway, Emma?”

Mary Margaret’s and Elsa’s pale cheeks both turn ten shades of red. Elsa is blunt but never crass, and Mary Margaret’s never known any man but David, high school sweethearts and all. Ruby does have a point, however, it’s been . . . well, Henry’s three, so let’s just say it’s been awhile.

“Besides,” Ruby continues, “if you don’t drag that guy over there upstairs, I will. I mean, damn, would you look at him?”

All three of them follow Ruby’s gaze to the bar, not really expecting to be blown away because, honestly, Ruby didn’t get the title man-eater for nothing. But then Emma sees the guy, and – hot damn! – Ruby was right. It’s been awhile since Emma’s jaw has dropped just looking at a guy, but it’s happening now.

“Whoa,” is all Mary Margaret can say. And that’s actually a lot. She usually only has eyes for David.

“I bet he’s an actor on a soap opera,” Ruby giggles, “with a pretty face like that?”

“I wouldn’t call him pretty,” Emma says hoarsely. He exudes too much raw masculinity to be called pretty, not to mention the scruff on his face that gives him an edge of mystery.

“I agree with Emma,” Elsa agrees, “I would guess he’s a musician. Look at those tight jeans and that leather jacket.”

“Oh, I’m looking alright,” Ruby purrs.

The guy glances their way (because he feels their eyes boring into him, most likely), and they all hurriedly look away, except for Ruby who grins wolfishly at him and wiggles her fingers in greeting. But the glance was enough for Emma to see how bright blue his eyes are.

“God, Emma, did you see those eyes?” Ruby asks as she continues to ogle the guy. She smoothes out her skirt and moves to stand. “I’m not letting that man candy go to waste, Emma.”

Emma clamps her hand down on Ruby’s arm. “Now wait just one second. He’s mine.”

Ruby smirks at her in triumph while Mary Margaret encourages her to talk to him and get to know him while Elsa keeps admonishing that the whole thing’s a bad idea. Emma knocks back one more shot, but not to get her tipsy. She needs to have her faculties to read the guy; she’s not stupid. She just needs a shot of liquid courage. Because Ruby’s right – it’s been awhile.

The guy’s not stupid either, he glances over her shoulder when Emma approaches him. He knows full well they were checking him out. But his eyes also rake over her approvingly, and it’s plain as day he’s happy that she approached him. When he opens his mouth, a British accent comes out. The next chance she gets, she glances back over at Ruby and mouths, “Oh. My. God.” Then she composes herself, smooths out her hair, and dials up the flirting. Their banter is laced with innuendo and contains absolutely no personal content, which is exactly how Emma likes her one night stands. It only takes one more drink for him to have her pressed against the wall in the elevator. God, he’s a good kisser!

They giggle and stumble down the hall to Emma’s room, unable to keep their hands off each other. The door has barely shut behind them when he has her on the bed, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her neck.

Emma doesn’t know exactly what happens. One minute she’s moaning as he kisses along her décolletage, and the next he’s sliding the zipper down the side of her too-tight dress and the action is like a bucket of cold water being dumped on her. He gasps and pulls away from her, feeling it too. They both look at each other with wide, panicked eyes and then speak simultaneously.

“I can’t do this.”

“I can’t do this.”

He groans and rolls over onto the bed, flinging his arm across his face. They’re both lying there panting as their heart rates work to get back to a normal rhythm. When they speak again, it’s at the exact same time.

“I have a son.”

“I have a daughter.”

And then they’re both laughing at the absurdity of the situation. They both roll over to face each other, and Emma realizes neither of them are as drunk as they had been pretending to be. Emma props her head on her hand.

“I used to do this all the time. But then I had Henry, and well . . .he’s three.”

He smiles back at her in understanding. “I used to do this all the time, too. But then I met my wife, and then she died, and now it’s just me and Haley . . . she’s five.”

He stares at her for a moment, then sighs and stands up. “Well, I’ll be going then.” He says it in such a sad, resigned voice that it breaks Emma’s heart a little. He picks his jacket up off the floor where Emma had pushed it off his shoulders. But before he can put it back on and walk out the door, Emma grabs his hand. She’s hearing Mary Margaret in her head. You understand each other! That’s got to mean something.

“You don’t have to go,” she tells him. “We could watch TV, get room service.” Emma bites her lip, nervous she’s pushed too far.

“Seriously? Because usually when I mention my dead wife and my daughter, women are halfway out the door.”

Emma shrugs and gives him a smile, “Men usually do the same when I mention my son. Please stay. I want you to.”

“Okay then,” he says, smiling so brightly she can now see he has dimples. He tosses his jacket on the back of a chair. “My name’s Killian, by the way. Killian Jones.”

“Emma Swan.”

*************************************************************

Emma wakes up the next morning in Killian’s arms, but not because they changed their minds about the sex. They’re both still fully clothed. Okay, maybe not fully. Killian’s in only his boxers and his white v-necked undershirt, and Emma is in a t-shirt and yoga pants. Still, they only did two things last night – well, three if you count eating way too much candy from the mini-bar, and sex wasn’t one of them.

The first was just talk; they never did turn on the TV. Emma would have kicked him out or tackled him in exchange for mindless sex instead if it hadn’t been for Elsa’s practical voice in her head. This is good, Emma. This is healthy. Amazingly, she told him all about her years growing up in foster care. Far more than she had ever told anyone else. But it’s because Killian, it turns out, is an orphan too and has his own tragic stories to tell. At age 13 his brother Liam became old enough to be his guardian, and then he had some semblance of a family.

She tells him how she started sleeping around at fifteen, craving intimacy while fearing it at the same time. She admits that she has no idea who Henry’s father is; even if she could narrow down the guy, she wouldn’t know his name. Her eyes drop to the mattress at that, but Killian tilts her chin up to look at him. She sees in his eyes that he understands.

He tells Emma how he idolized his brother. So much so that he followed him into the Navy, only to lose him. It’s then that he went off the deep end with liquor and women. He was in a band, too, so one-night stands had been easy to come by. Milah, his wife, owned a pub where his band played frequently. Even though she watched him go home with different women every night, she still fell madly in love with him, and he with her. When Milah got pregnant, he gave up the band, but they were so blissfully happy. Haley was only a year old when Milah got sick – stage five breast cancer. Six months later, Milah was gone and Killian was alone with an 18 month old baby.

“Haley’s my whole world,” he tells her then, and Emma looks up at him with tenderness in her eyes.

“And Henry is mine.”

Killian leans down and kisses her then, and it’s the most tender kiss Emma has ever known.

So here they are, morning, and Emma is curled up against him, her head on his chest. She thinks he’s still asleep until his hand starts rubbing her arm. Killian’s touch has heat that lights her on fire from the inside, which reminds her of the other thing they did last night: make out like a couple of teenagers. Even though he can’t see her face right now, she blushes as she remembers the moans just light petting had elicited from her. It’s then that reality hits Emma like a Mac truck: what they shared last night was far more intimate than mere sex would have been. She can hear Elsa’s voice in her head: Queue the panic. And sure enough, it comes. Emma takes a few deep breaths before slipping as calmly as she can from his embrace. He’s leaving for London this morning. She’s leaving for Storybrooke. It’s not like this can go anywhere, but she still doesn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“Hey,” he says sleepily, grabbing her hand as she eases from the bed, “how about some breakfast.”

“Oh, um, I’m actually meeting my friends for breakfast,” Emma explains as she shrugs into a hoodie. She stands there regarding him awkwardly, tucking her hair behind her ears and crossing her arms across her chest. It isn’t a lie; she really is supposed to meet the others at nine before driving back to Storybrooke.

“Okay,” Killian replies easily as he stands and pulls his jeans back on. He then reaches for the hotel pad of paper and pen on the bedside table and jots something down on it. He rips off the top sheet and hands it to her.

“My contact information,” he explains with a lopsided grin. His gaze is both gentle and sincere as he continues in a softer voice, “I really like you, Emma. Since we didn’t do anything stupid, I’m hoping we can stay in touch. I mean, this wasn’t just a one-time thing. Not for me, at least.”

Emma gives him a tentative smile as she takes the piece of paper and crams it unceremoniously into the pocket of her hoodie. Killian’s gaze follows her movement, and the light in his eyes dims.

“Well,” he says, scratching behind his ear, “I’ll take my leave, then.”

He shrugs into his shirt without buttoning it up, then heads for the door with his jacket and shoes still in his hand. Emma lets her head fall backward in frustration at herself.

“Killian, wait,” Emma calls after him.

He turns in the doorway, and Emma just stands there, unsure of what exactly she can say. Finally, when he raises his eyebrows at her in confusion, she decides that if she’s never going to see him again, at least she can get one last kiss. So she grabs the gaping lapels of his unbuttoned shirt and hauls him in. He gasps in shock at first, dropping his jacket and shoes with a thud. But he quickly catches up, kissing her back thoroughly until both their lips are swollen. She thinks again that he’s the most fantastic kisser she’s ever met.

When they finally part, breathless, Killian rests his forehead against hers and thumbs the dimple in her chin. “I could fall in love with you, Emma Swan,” he whispers, his eyes still closed. He opens them before Emma can look away and she feels as if she’ll drown in the deep blue of those eyes. He traces her cheek with his fingertips, “But you won’t let me, will you? You’re going to throw away my contact information, aren’t you?”

Killian’s hand drops away and he sighs as Emma remains silent. He bends to retrieve his things, and with a whispered good-bye, walks away from her door.

“I could fall in love with you too, Killian,” she whispers to his retreating form.

But she doubts he heard her.

********************************************************

“So he spent the night in your room – the entire night – but you didn’t sleep with him?” Ruby hisses across the table, half-eaten bagel still in her hand.

“Well, technically, we slept,” Emma responds wryly.

“But no sex? Seriously?” Ruby tears a piece from her bagel violently, but pauses before putting the piece in her mouth as a revelation seems to hit her, “Wait, is he gay?”

“No, he is definitely not gay,” Emma states emphatically, feeling infantile when she blushes.

“So what did you do all night?” Ruby asks incredulously.

“We talked mostly,” Emma says with a shrug, “and . . . other things.”

“What other things?” Elsa asks.

“God, Elsa,” Emma says with a roll of her eyes, “do I have to spell it out for you? We made out.”

Ruby reaches for the collar of Emma’s button-down flannel shirt, exposing the black and blue mark on her neck. “A hickey!” Ruby exults, “He gave her a hickey!”

“Quiet down, Rubes,” Emma hisses as she re-adjusts her collar, “what is this, high school?”

“So what did you guys talk about?” Mary Margaret asks eagerly. Only she would be more interested in the conversation.

Emma shrugs again as she spreads jam on a piece of toast, “You know, just stuff. Our childhoods. Our kids. We talked a lot about our kids.”

“He has kids?” asks Ruby with a wrinkled nose.

“Yes, Ruby,” Emma snaps, “kids. Which is probably why we thought twice about having sex with someone we just met.”

Ruby’s eyes grow large, “How many does he have?”

Emma drops her knife with a clatter, frustrated at Ruby’s inquisition, “Just one. A five year old daughter. His wife died three and a half years ago of cancer.”

“Oh, Emma,” Mary Margaret breathes, “he sounds wonderful! And it’s so romantic that you stayed up all night just kissing and talking. What a gentleman! I hope you’ll stay in touch.”

Emma shakes her head, “He wanted to. Gave me his information. But I threw it away.”

Mary Margaret gasps in shock, and even Ruby thinks she’s crazy, but Elsa is the cold voice of reason.

“I think Emma is wise to break it off now. He’s a grieving widower with a child. Emma has a child of her own. Not to mention that long-distance relationships never work.”

“What was he doing in New York?” Mary Margaret asks, ignoring Elsa’s cold logic.

“A job interview,” Emma answers, “he didn’t really get into the details.”

“See,” Mary Margaret tells Elsa smugly.

“See what?” Elsa scoffs with a roll of her eyes. “It’s still long-distance. Emma needs to use her head.”

“She needs to follow her heart,” argues Mary Margaret.

“I was thinking of an organ a little farther south,” quips Ruby.

“And I would appreciate you all dropping the entire subject,” Emma huffs in frustration.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret whispers urgently, “there he is!”

Emma glances behind her, and sure enough, Killian is sitting at a table on the other side of the room. He’s perusing the menu, so he hasn’t noticed her yet. Emma quickly turns back around.

“Yep,” Ruby says with a nod, “just as hot as I remembered.”

Elsa narrows her eyes as she takes him in, “Actually, Emma, on second thought, maybe using your head in this situation isn’t the best course of action.”

Mary Margaret nudges Emma’s arm, “Go on, go talk to him. Give him your number!”

Emma stands quickly, hands shaking, and tosses some bills onto the table. “That should cover my order. I’ll see you all in Storybrooke.”

Emma then walks as quickly as she can for the hotel exit, ignoring her friends protests. She purposely keeps her head forward, not wanting to see the look of hurt in Killian’s eyes as she walks away. Or the look of indifference.

She isn’t sure which would be worse. Either way, it’s why she doesn’t turn around.

************************************************************

A week later, Emma is enjoying her favorite lunch of grilled cheese and onion rings at Granny’s. The buzz around town is that Mayor Mills finally hired a new harbor master, and whoever it is just rolled into town in a black extended cab truck with just a few suitcases and boxes in the back. The type of vehicle combined with the small amount of personal effects has every single woman in town speculating that it’s a bachelor. Emma just rolls her eyes at the gossip. The only thing she cares about is how the harbor master does his or her job, since it directly affects hers as sheriff.

Emma is licking the last drop of cheese from her pinkie finger when a little girl scrambles onto the stool next to her. She’s wearing a tunic shirt covered in daisies over a pair of yellow leggings. Disney princess shoes adorn her feet, the kind that light up when you walk. She has to kneel on the stool so she can reach the counter.

“One chocolate milkshake please,” the little girl tells Granny in an adorable British accent.

Emma and Granny both raise their eyes, looking around the diner for the child’s parents. Emma catches Granny’s eye, and the older woman nods.

“You’re a little young to be ordering all by yourself,” Emma says gently, tipping her head so she can look the child in the eye. “How old are you, kid?”

“Would you believe ten?”

Emma suppresses a chuckle and shakes her head.

“Eight?” the child sighs as Emma once again shakes her head. “Okay, I’m five.”

Emma nods. She wants to get information, and she knows the best way to do that is to play it cool, “So where are your parents?”

The little girl sighs, bites her lip, and then leans closer to Emma, “Okay, see, my dad said we would come here for lunch today. I want a milkshake, but Dad always says no. That I have to eat my lunch first. But I don’t want lunch. Can’t the milkshake be my lunch?”

"So you got here early so you could have the milkshake before he saw you.”

The little girl’s face brightens, and when she smiles dimples appear on her freckled cheeks. “Exactly!”

Emma leans forward, “The problem is, I’m a mom, so I’m not going to let you either.”

The little girl scowls and crosses her arms, “But you’re not my mum.”

“But you do need money, kid,” Granny tells the child gruffly.

The little girl swivels on her stool to face Granny, reaching smugly into the pocket of her tunic. She pulls out a ten dollar bill with a flourish and smacks it down onto the counter. “Will that cover it?”

Emma’s hand flies to her mouth as she suppresses her laughter. This kid is the most precocious, sassy little thing she’s ever seen. Once Emma has composed herself, she leans over the counter towards the child and speaks to her sternly. “You know what else I am besides a mom, kid? The sheriff of this town.” The little girl’s eyes grow large. “Where did you get that money?”

The child quirks one dark eyebrow and tilts her chin defiantly. “My allowance.”

“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret, kid. I have this gift – we’ll call it a super power – I can tell when people are lying to me. So I’ll ask you again. Where’d you get the money?”

The little girl sighs and lowers her head, “My dad’s wallet.”

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Haley.”

Emma feels as if the room is suddenly spinning. She blinks and looks the little girl over. Dark hair, bright blue eyes, British accent. It couldn’t be . . .

“Haley Elizabeth Jones!” another British voice calls out from the door of the diner. Emma’s jaw drops as Killian Jones himself rushes towards her. But he doesn’t even see Emma, too intent on his little girl who he hugs tightly to his chest. “Bloody hell, lass, you just took ten years off my life! Never, never, wander away like that!”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Haley mumbles against Killian’s neck as she throws her little arms around him. Killian pulls away and looks her over, running a hand over his little girl’s hair and over her shoulder as if she might be hurt. Haley sheepishly takes the ten dollar bill and hands it to him. “I took the money from your wallet, too. I’m sorry. The sheriff lady caught me.”

Killian finally turns towards Emma then and blinks rapidly as if he’s seen a ghost. “Swan?”

“Killian,” Emma breathes, her hand fluttering to the pale mark still on her neck. The way they’re grinning at each other like idiots and blushing like fools, you would think they had actually had sex. “What are you – what are you doing here?”

“I got the job,” he explains, “the one I was telling you about.”

“You mean, you’re the new harbor master?” Killian nods and Emma shakes her head in confusion. “But your interview was in New York.”

“Mayor Mills had some business there anyway, and she thought travel would be easier for me from London. I thought the change would be good for Haley. Living in a small town and all.”

They just stand there staring at each other until Haley pipes up. “The sheriff says she’s a mum too, Daddy,” Haley takes Emma’s hands in hers and looks at them intently. “But she doesn’t have a wedding ring. Are you married, sheriff lady?”

“No, sweetie,” Emma says with a mirthful smile, “I’m not married.”

“That’s great! My daddy isn’t married either, and I need a mum!”

“Okaaaay,” Killian chuckles nervously as he scoops Haley up into his arms. He turns to Emma blushing furiously, “I’m gonna get this lass home. And then I’m gonna dig myself a really deep hole and crawl into it.”

He scratches behind his ear with his free hand as he turns towards the door, still carrying Haley. Mary Margaret’s voice is suddenly in Emma’s head, chirping on about fate and destiny, which propels Emma off her stool.

“Killian, wait.”

He turns towards her, that lopsided grin of his on his face.

“I know how it is unpacking. I was thinking Henry and I could stop by later with a couple of pizzas.”

“I appreciate that, Ms. Swan. That’s very hospitable of you.”

Okay, she’s going to have to be far more direct. “I was hoping Henry and I could eat with the two of you. We could consider it our second unconventional date.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners as his smile widens. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Emma says, smiling back, “this thing we started; may as well see where it goes, right?”

Hope sparkles in Killian’s eyes. “Right. See you tonight, Swan.”

Behind the counter, Granny can’t hold her laughter back any longer when Haley pumps her little fist into the air and crows, “YES! I’m getting a mum!”

It turns out the little girl was right. Eight months later, Haley Jones has a mum and Henry Swan Jones has a dad. Turns out Mary Margaret was right all along: there’s nothing hopeless about being a romantic.

[mypassionfortrash]

Do More of What Scares You (Part 14)

You and Roger head to Munich to join the rest of Queen in the studio. You have some big news to share, but how will Roger's bandmates react?

💡Catch up: 1&2 ~ 3&4 ~ 5&6 ~ 7&8&9 ~ 10&11 ~ 12 ~ 13💡

Notes: Last chapter! Thank you so much for reading. If you like this series then please, reblog it! I’ve been really disheartened by the lack of response to these updates because of Tumblr’s new algorithm burying them, so now more than ever, it’d be amazing if you could share this!

Tags: @jennyggggrrr & @sarahgurl09

Deacy slumped over the sofa at the back of the mixing room. He had given Brian some suggestions about how to play his solo. But, true to form, the guitarist was having none of it. He stood in the middle of the live room; a thick panel of glass divided him from his bandmates, something for which John was grateful whenever he decided to share a thought that might rile Brian up.

“You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about, John,” Brian seethed through gritted teeth, before demonstrating his illustrious idea one more time for his bandmates. “Is this good enough for you?”

“Can’t we all just calm down?” Freddie groaned, sparking up another cigarette. Then he poured himself yet another measure of vodka. “I don’t see why any of us are so bothered about this. We know the album’s never going to happen. Fuck, we’re a member down already. Here, have a drink, Deacy.”

Mack, the band’s producer, sat hunched over the mixing desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. Between Freddie’s drinking and partying, and Brian and Deacy’s disputes, he couldn’t see an end to this album either - with Freddie, that much he could agree. But to add to his troubles, Jim had refused to confirm whether Roger would be returning to play drums. And the label point-blank declined to finance a session artist. “This would be so much easier if we have a drum track to go off of,” he sighed.

No one heard, of course. They were much too busy throwing themselves into yet another debate to care.

“All I’m saying is that you’ve had a few too many,” Deacy reasoned with Freddie.

“Oh, don’t be such a bore, Deacy.”

Deacy’s eyes shot from Freddie to the omnipresent personal assistant lounging in the doorway.

Paul Prenter was inclined to clock watch when Queen were in the studio. Especially in Munich, which offered all the pleasures a gay man in the 80’s could dream of. He eagerly anticipated opening time for such establishments and would routinely haul Freddie away from the studio, usually at the worst times.

Deacy jabbed a finger in Paul’s direction. “Maybe we’ll get some bloody work done when you and that buggered off to your clubs.”

Paul piped up: “I don’t see how you and Brian-”

“For goodness sake, will you just shut up!” Brian and Deacy screamed in unison.

Paul, sufficiently startled, turned towards the door with Freddie in tow.

The pair stopped in their tracks. 

Freddie’s eyes tripled in size. “Where the bloody hell have you been?!” He demanded, taking in the sight of you and Roger. His moustache twitched for a moment before he pulled you both into a bone-crushing embrace. “I’ve been worried sick.” Dragging you both into the centre of the mixing room, he exclaimed: “Look what the cat dragged in! Brian! Look! Roger’s back! He worked things out with the girl! Come! Come through!”

You and Roger stood sheepishly in the centre of the room as his bandmates gathered around. 

But there was something off about the elated response. Brian wasn’t joining in. He barely said a word, apart from a courteous hug.

Peering through the gaggle, you watched Brian as he sat down on the sofa. “What’s the matter?”

He looked up at you. “Nothing, it’s nothing.”

Silence fell over the room as soon as he spoke. The realisation that something was drastically off hit an oblivious Roger like a ton of bricks. He pursed his lips together gazing around at his bandmates. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

His three best friends traded uneasy looks.

“Is this about me bailing on you? Because I’m-”

“Sit down, Rog,” Brian said, patting the seat next to him.

You perched on the armrest next to Roger, draping your arm over his shoulders. Freddie and Deacy completed the circle.

“We have some news,” Deacy started.

Roger’s shoulders stiffened beneath your touch. His entire body grew rigid. “Are we done?” he asked in a pitiful voice.

“Not completely,” Brian said. “We just think that after the next tour, it might be time to stop.”

“What he means is stop touring,” Freddie clarified.

“We’ll keep recording albums,” Deacy added.

Brian turned to Roger; his eyes were brimming with concern. “We’ll always be Queen. But touring, it’s just not good for us anymore. There are far too many distractions. You of all people should know that.”

“I take it you mean me?” Paul sulked from the doorway, shrouded in a plume of cigarette smoke.

“Oh, fuck off!” Brian spat.

“Can’t you see we’re having a private conversation, here?” Freddie fizzed, knocking everyone in the room for six. “You’ve done nothing but stir the pot since the day we arrived here. Your services aren’t required anymore.”

“You can’t just fire me!”

“Get out!”

Mack got to his feet and calmly escorted a seething Paul Prenter from the room, leaving you alone with the four members of Queen in stunned silence.

“Well?” Deacy pressed.

“Well, what?” Roger shrugged, a smirk twinkling at the corners of his lips.

“What do you think about that?” Brian urged.

Roger finally let himself smile, broad and unabashed. “I’m just glad Freddie’s seen sense if I’m honest.”

“Not Paul, dear. The band!” Freddie took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled. “What do you think about the band!”

“Oh, come off it! I know what you mean! It’s an excellent idea.”

Freddie, Brian and Deacy exchanged bewildered looks before Freddie piped up: “what has she done to you?”

You and Roger glanced at each other, simpering like a couple of loved up teenagers, while everyone else tried to figure out the reason behind Roger’s sudden shift in attitude.

“Should we tell them?” Roger proposed, bumping you with his shoulder.

“I think we should.”

“Okay,” he began, sitting up straight, and delicately placing his hands on his thighs. “We have some news.”

His bandmates leaned in, eagerly anticipating the big reveal.

“This fine young lady and I went galavanting all over Europe to sort ourselves out for a month, and I’m sorry I haven’t been a good friend or a good bandmate. But I’m better now. And we’re stronger than we ever were. We worked everything out and…”

You groaned. “What Roger means to tell you is,” you began, holding up your left hand to show them your news, “we’re getting married! And we hope you’ll all be there.”

The three men erupted. They shook Roger’s shoulders, and patted him on the back in congratulations and forgiveness. Brian sauntered over to the drinks cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Moët. Deacy and Roger followed him, leaving you with Freddie, who was positively vibrating with joy.

“Here, let me get a better look at this!” Freddie smiled, grabbing your hand. He eyed the gigantic ruby and diamond ring with adoration. “Oh, it’s gorgeous! I’m astounded you can even lift your hand, darling. It looks heavy! Did he choose this?!”

“Well, no, actually,” you grinned.

“Of course, he didn’t. He doesn’t have any taste, does he? Now, you must tell me everything,” he babbled, delivering a swat to your thigh. “How did it happen?”

You lolled your head to the side, remembering that moment. That day, when the autumn sun beat down over sprawling golden landscapes somewhere close to Cannes. You and Roger had hired a poppy red Jaguar that would get you from A to B on your adventures. Only, it began to belch out rings of acrid smoke from its exhaust as you neared the city. Soon the electrics and power steering went, ploughing you into the edge of the road. You could have argued; you remembered with a smirk just how close you were to a screaming match with Roger. But the pair of you stepped back from the brink, stamping out that fire before it took hold. The way he looked at you as you stood at the roadside; in a white linen dress and your hair in a pillar box red scarf that matched your cheeks in your flustered state. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, draping his jacket over your shoulders to keep you warm as dusk set in.

To him, you were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. And all he wanted was to make it work. He was utterly disarmed. And he couldn’t resist. The words just tumbled from his lips as you danced at the side of the road to keep the chill at bay, your thumb outstretched, appealing to the better nature of passersby. He couldn’t help himself. “Will you marry me?”

“So that’s how it happened,” you giggled, taking in Freddie’s enthralled expression.

“I can’t believe that’s Roger!” he cooed. “Who’d have thought someone would finally make an honest man out of him! Who’d have thought someone would want to, for that matter!”

“He’s not all bad,” you mused, watching as Roger excitedly retold his side of the story to Brian and Deacy. He bobbed up and down with every word. His smile was so broad that his eyes narrowed and his red, rosy cheeks puffed out. “He’s perfect for me,” you said, glancing at Freddie.

“I just have one small question about all of this…”

Freddie had your full attention now.

“What happened with your job and everything? Didn’t you tell your friends where you were going? Weren’t you worried?”

“No.”

“No?!”

“I never worried once.”

Freddie pursed his lips together, shuffling in his seat. “You’re a braver woman than I am.”

“I remember before I met Roger,” you began, scooting over into Freddie’s arms, “I used to get this horrible rushing in my ears. Tunnel vision. My legs would feel like jelly. Any time I left the house, let alone did anything drastically life-changing. Anything that scared me in the least bit.”

“What about now, my dear?” Freddie asked, stroking your hair.

“It hasn’t happened in a month. I’ve gone from feeling that every single day of my adult life, to just being happy. Touchwood it won’t come back - it probably will at some point. But I think I’m in a better place to deal with it, you know?”

“And what about when you came home? After you left America? I’ve missed out on so much.”

“That was awful.”

“Roger was a nightmare to be around that entire time, by the way.”

“I think he still owes you an apology for that.”

“I’ll let it lie. For now.”

“I can’t believe I’m getting married.”

Freddie chuckled. “I’m going to have to find myself a nice man to be my plus one, aren’t I?”

“If you need any tips, from someone who’s got one, you only have to ask.”

“Oh, you!” Freddie scolded as he squeezed you tightly. The pair of you watching Roger from your spot on the sofa in the back of the room.

———————————————————————

The grounds of Garden Lodge bustled. Neat little rows of white chairs sat out on the lawn for a party of no more than 20 people; arches of sunflowers formed an aisle between the two groups of ten. The guests were busy quaffing as much champagne as they could handle. It was only eight in the morning - an ungodly hour for a wedding at the best of times - but some guests more than others didn’t hold much hope of the wedding happening. And if it did, a few took bets on the marriage not lasting more than a year.

Roger, Deacy and Brian stood huddled together at the makeshift altar, dressed in morning suits and nervously blathering away. “What if she gets cold feet?” Deacy said, earning him a glare from Brian.

The band had to be a well-oiled machine on today of all days. Their schedule allowed no margin for error. They had to be at Knebworth for their soundcheck at one o’clock. Sharp. Today was Queen’s final live show, after all.

“Why would you say something like that?” Roger asked, instantly becoming pale and snatching Deacy’s hip flask right from his hands. He took a swig. “She’s going to be here. Fred’ll see to it. I know he will.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Brian reassured.

Roger offered his bandmates the hip flask; his mouth hung slightly open, and his eyes just as wide. Both politely declined. He needed it more than they did.

Upstairs, in Freddie’s bedroom, you stared at yourself in the full-length mirror. Three men - Peter, Freddie and his partner, Jim, all sat at the edge of the bed, positively beaming at the sight of you. You turned to them, running your hands over the delicate swathes of deep damson lace. “What do you think?”

“It’s very unusual!” Freddie cooed, clasping his hands underneath his chin.

You whined, throwing your arms down by your sides, the sinking in your stomach growing increasingly apparent. “I knew it! I look fucking awful. Today of all days.”

“I don’t think that’s what Freddie meant,” Jim reassured, glaring at Freddie. “Did you?”

“If you’d have let me finish, Negative Nelly, I would have told you I liked the colour,” Freddie explained, rising to his feet and grabbing your hands. He pressed his nose to your own, making you giggle. “Because it’s not virgin white. You look exquisite.”

You looked at Peter. He had been Queen’s wardrobe mistress for years when they toured; you trusted him to help you find the right dress. He seemed pleased with his choice, smiling sweetly at you. “Is it sitting right?” you asked him.

Peter stood up and fixed the train at the back of your skirt. With great care, he spread the layers of fabric out behind you on the floor. “Now it is, but remember, you can’t sit down for the next hour or so. You don’t want the fabric to wrinkle.”

“Okay. Jim, how’s my hair?”

“What are you worrying about your hair for? Roger’s probably going to mess it up in about an hour anyway!”

You sighed, seeing reason beyond all of your fretting. “You’re right. You’re right.” Deep breaths. Today of all days, you weren’t prepared to let doubt and self-sabotage be a feature of your day. You shuffled over to the window to catch a glimpse of your husband-to-be.

You had agreed on a low-key wedding. Just your friends. But even at that, with only twenty people waiting for you downstairs, it felt like too much. It made your heart race.

In the thick of it all, the flowers, pomp and ceremony, was Roger. You had never seen him so happy. Sure, he looked pale, and he was clutching a hip flask for dear life. But he seemed like he was on another level of happiness that you never thought was possible.

Your head spun as you realised your body was fighting for every breath it took.

“Someone fetch her a drink! Joe, darling,” Freddie called, speeding out of the room and into the landing. “Joe! Can you bring our lovely bride some more champagne, dear?”

Peter and Jim fussed over you at the window. A pair of supportive friends that you never in your wildest dreams imagined you would have. You looked down at Alex, Katie and Molly, sour-faced and sandwiched between their boring looking boyfriends. They stuck out like sore thumbs for being the most bland guests there. They didn’t even want to be there. You had known them for years; longer than anyone else and yet, they were the ones who tried to put you off marrying Roger for the whole year between your engagement and your big day. By rights, they should’ve been the ones holding your hand today. But they couldn’t see past their own boring worlds and their own uneventful lives to go after something better. Something exciting.

At least you had the inhabitants of Garden Lodge - cats included - for moral support.

Peter gently took your hand and guided you towards the edge of the bed. “I’m allowing you to sit down because I can’t have you passing out on us. Roger would kill us,” he explained, forcing you to crack a smile.

Freddie returned with Joe - the youngest of the Garden Lodge Four. He cooked and looked after all of the alcohol that flowed freely through the premises. He even made your wedding cake - complete with miniature versions of you and Roger in a little red Jag. “Here, drink! We’ve got about twenty bottles of the good stuff to get through,” he urged, thrusting a glass into your trembling hand.

“Better not tell Roger that - he’s got a show to play!” Jim joked.

You quickly drained it, feeling that golden liquid imbuing you with renewed verve. “Thank you.”

“Better?” Jim asked.

“Much, much better.”

“If it makes you feel even better,” Joe began, whispering to you, “I’ve fed Roger a whole bottle. Brian and John are going to have to prop him up.”

You couldn’t hold back your laugh; it shook your whole body with happiness and echoed through the room, startling no less than three of Freddie’s cats from their hiding spots.

“I think she’s better,” Freddie shrugged.

Jim eyed his watch and jumped when his brain registered the time. “Fuck! It’s quarter past. Better get you downstairs, Mrs Taylor.”

“Don’t want Roger thinking you’ve done a runner, now, do we?” Peter said, offering you a hand up.

The marble staircase seemed to stretch on for miles, spiralling down into the hallway. Every single shaky step made your leopard print heels slip ever so slightly tripling the rate at which your heart fluttered. Even if you did manage to fall, you were safe in the knowledge that Jim or Freddie would catch you. They clung to an arm each for dear life while Peter hung back, frantically preventing you from standing on the bottom of your dress. They did all the work, forcing each baby step upon you as your body threatened to hurl the contents of your stomach down your dress and a quiet ocean moved inside your ears.

The trio led you out into the garden, through neatly trimmed rows of hedges and beautiful rose bushes and sunflowers. You had managed to accumulate a few of Freddie’s cats along the way, too. They accompanied you to the first sunflower arch at the end of the narrow aisle, before Freddie passed you a bouquet of roses that matched your dress.

Heads turned to get a glimpse of you, but there was only one person you cared about seeing today. Although tunnel vision was setting in, if you strained hard enough, you could just about make him out at the very end of the aisle. You could see his smile a mile off.

The wedding march kicked in, and suddenly you were on your own.

Your nails dug into the flowers stems as you tried to focus on something other than the fact that your legs felt like jelly. Your vision was so obscured that you struggled to see Roger, squinting into the sun. It felt like a joke — a bad one at that. A car crash in slow motion, you felt compelled to make proceedings move just a little bit faster. To put one foot in front of the other more easily.

“Fuck this,” you muttered to yourself, leaning against the back of a chair. You whipped off your shoes and carried on. It earned you some uneasy laughs, but you could tell Roger’s was genuine.

Being able to move more freely, you giggled to yourself as your stomped towards the altar. 

Roger shared your sentiments. He couldn’t stop laughing. “You’re that impatient to marry me, hm?”

You scoffed, delivering a smack to his chest. “How do I look, though?”

“Don’t know. Haven’t got my glasses. Can’t see you. Might be marrying a complete dog - ow!”

Freddie had delivered a sharp jab to Roger’s ribs, making him jump.

Roger’s cheeky expression was plastered all over his face by this point, but the feeling wasn’t lost. Those words made you melt in front of everyone. “You look beautiful, darling.”

—————————————————————————————————————————

You spent the entirety of Queen’s set cuddled up next to Freddie’s partner, Jim, at the side of the stage, sinking beers and watching in blissful awe as the sprawling crowd sang every word back to Freddie. It was unlike anything you had witnessed before. Unlike the last time you found yourself at a Queen gig.

When the evening drew to a close, a rush of euphoria washed over you; your husband finally made his way off stage towards you. He was drenched in sweat and on a high he’d never reach again. The voices of what seemed like millions, still chanting ‘God Save the Queen’ provided a fitting backdrop. He was inches from you, aching to finally be alone with his wife, when you pointed into the distance, over his shoulder.

“Nope,” Roger murmured, peppering kisses all over your cheek. “None of that now. S’all about you, Mrs Taylor.”

You pressed your hands to his chest, grasping at the saturated shirt he wore to stop him. “Just look,” you whispered, spinning him around by his shoulders.

Roger’s eyes glassed over, gazing out at the adoring audience one last time.

“Savour it,” you said, resting your arm over his shoulder. “You’ve got a lifetime with me. But you’re not going to get that again.”

You felt something behind you. Then you heard it.

“What are you two doing?” Freddie fretted, putting his arm around you. Then Brian joined him. And Deacy and the crew and their wives and kids joined them, too, until you all stood in a row, arm-in-arm, watching as the crowds began to disperse.

“What do we do now?” Roger asked, his voice wavering.

“I think I was at a wedding this morning,” Deacy mused.

“Really?” Freddie snorted. “Whose wedding?”

“A pair of plonkers called Mr and Mrs Taylor, I think,” Brian retorted.

“Alright, boys!” you chuckled, hauling Roger away from the group. “I want some time alone with my husband. You can have him back later.”

Roger nodded at you. A short, wordless signal to make your getaway as swiftly as possible. Then the pair of you ran as fast as your legs could carry you through the backstage area and out to a waiting car. 

When you collapsed inside, and the door closed, it was as if the entire world had been put on hold. It was just you and Roger, sweaty and breathless and alone for the first time in what felt like an eternity. You sat apart on the backseats, hands barely touching, trying to catch your breath as the car kicked into motion.

“We did it,” Roger gasped, clutching his heaving chest.

“That was honestly the most terrifying day of my life.”

Roger chuckled and shook his head. “Happy, though, right?”

“I think I made a good choice.”

“So what’s next?”

“Dunno. We could decorate the house?”

“Decorate?! It’s our wedding night, and you’re talking to me about decorating?”

“Oh, you meant… right!” You tittered, throwing your leg over Roger’s lap. “Well, in that case…” You trailed off, kissing your husband deeply.

He sighed against your lips, pressing his fingers into your waist. Then he broke away; a mischevious look washed over him. 

“What?” you asked, sweeping his hair back.

“Can you put the dress on when we get home?”

“Why?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“So I can take it off.”

[xsixxx]

Bad Influence, Chapter Eight

Authors note: Hiya guys, it's been a while 🤙🏻 Sorry for the wait, I've had a rough few weeks, so I took a break from a lot of stuff, Tumblr included, but I'm back & I've been working on this chapter piece by piece. It was originally supposed to be longer but I've decided to split it into two separate chapters, which means at least the first part of ch.9 is written!

Thank you all for baring with me, I'm sorry for the wait!

So on with the goddamn show 🤟🏻

Warnings: Language, sexual tension, love triangle awkwardness, Beth being a super slut, loads of angst

Tags: @triplehaitches @freddiessmallnipples @queen-crue @scarecrowmax @lovesick-heart0 @littlesunnymoon @80sheart-strings @cranberribread @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies @deaconsroger @zoenicoles @crazysaladchopshop @ggorehorror @lunamadhatter99 @justtryingtoovercome @chaoticvybe @you-know-im-a-dreamer @eightiesrockbaby @valentines-in-london @xrosegoldwolfx @fupatroopaa @lilypetite88 @this-blog-must-be-the-place @ashleecrue @lauravic @dark-princess99 @unknownoblivion @mgkobsessed @antheasnow

(I've given up trying to find matching GIFs for the chapter so here's one of Erin Moriarty who is legit Beth in my head)

*Beths POV*

I rolled out of my bed, pulling on a tshirt & yawning as I went. I glanced across at the naked rockstar, asleep in my bed, which had become quite a common occurrence since the KISS tour ended for Mötley.

Vinces blonde hair lay feathered around his sleeping features & I couldn’t help that girlish feeling of excitement & smugness in my stomach as it struck me, as it does every morning that I wake up next to Vince, that this beautiful man that women threw themselves at, wanted to be sharing my bed.

I smirked to myself as I slipped silently out of the room & made my way into the kitchen.

“Coffee?” Came the always chirpy voice of Tommy, who was grinning ear to ear as he stood in just his boxers in the midddle of the kitchen, changing the filter in the coffee machine. I eyed him up & down, trying to muffle my giggle at the sight of his long chicken legs in all their glory.

“Please.” I mused back to him, smiling.

“Good night?” He winked, catching sight of my yawn as I draped myself lazily against the wall.

"Probably about as good as yours from the sounds of it," I sniggered, "I thought we were having a competition at one point!"

Tommy let out a loud, hearty laugh that immediately made me giggle. His happiness was infectious.

He poured out the coffee into two mugs before sliding me a sly smile as he opened up one of the cupboards & produced a bottle of whiskey. "Fancy making it Irish?" He chuckled.

"Tommy, it's like 10am!" I laughed, shaking my head at him.

"So?! It'll get us in the mood for tonight! You're still coming, right?" He asked as he poured way more than a shot into each of the coffee mugs & handed one to me. I rolled my eyes at his offer of corruption, but my smile betrayed my & I took it from him, more than willingly.

"Of course, you really think Vince would let me miss it?!" I snorted, taking a sip of what was, let's face it, 1/3 whiskey with a coffee mixer. I tried my hardest to keep a straight face as the alcohol hit the back of my throat & immediately warmed my chest, chasing away any remnants of lathergy I might've had. "He's desperate to show off for me, it's been so long since I've seen you guys play!"

"He won't be the only one up there showing off for you." Tommy said, smirking behind his mug as he took an impressive gulp without so much as a blink.

I feigned innocence. "What, are you gonna twirl around your little sticks to try & impress me, T-Bone?" I winked, sticking out my tongue cheekily as he playfully nudge my shoulder, his laughter ringing around the kitchen once again.

"You wish girly," he sniggered. "You know who I'm talking about."

I pretended to rub my chin thoughtfully. "I didn't know Mick had a thing for me.."

Tommy let out another infectious laugh that instantly had me giggling along with me.

"So," he started as we both composed ourselves & I took another sip of my drink "Does Vince know what you & Nikki have been up to then then?" Tommy winked.

I nearly choked on my mouthful of whisky as I clamped my hand over Tommys mouth, peering out of the kitchen door to check we weren't in danger of being heard.

I removed my hand from Tommys mouth to reveal a grin behind it. "So it is true!"

"What, n-no!" I stumbled, knowing I wasn't fooling him, not even close. I relented, sighing as I did. "Goddamn it Sixx, can't keep his mouth shut.."

"Oh, Sixx didn't tell me." He smirked, "I see how you guys act, it's not hard to put the pieces together, you hate each other a little too much." He laughed, his grin growing wider. "I'm kinda surprised Vinny hasn't figured it out yet either.."

I scoffed. "If Vince ever noticed anything other than pussy or his fucking hair, then hell must be freezing over."

"Babe, if hell is freezing over, it's only because you've been warming the devil's bed." Tommy winked again, chuckling darkly as I took a swipe at his arm.

"Ok, well A," I started, as my hand caught him just below his shoulder sharply, wiping that grin off if his face. "I am not sleeping with Nikki! We kissed once! And B, how do you know I call him the devil?!" I asked sheepishly, my face flushing red with embarrassment.

Tommys mouth grew wide again as he rubbed his arm where I'd hit him. "Oh Sixx loves that shit, he brags about it all the time to us!" Sniggered T-Bone, before noticing my face & visibly grimacing. "I said too much again, didnt I? Beth, I'm sorry! He doesn't take the piss or anything," he rushed, stumbling over his words, "you just know him, that sorta shit builds up his ego, calling him the Devil is probably the biggest compliment you could give that twisted fucker!"

I groaned aloud as I downed the last of my whiskey with one swift gulp, hoping it might chase away my memory of the last 5 minutes.

"I can't believe you know!" I moaned, hanging my head.

"I can't believe you thought you guys were being subtle!"

"T-Bone, you gotta keep this to yourself ok? I like how things are with me & Vince right now, we're having fun & I kinda wanna keep it that way. And, for the love of God, don't tell Sophia. I can't be dealing with her disapproval on top of my dad's & my sister's right now." I finished, shaking my head. Tommy looked at me with that cute, dopey look that instinctively made me feel warm & trusting.

"I promise, I won't." He smiled affectionately. I could tell he meant it.

*Later*

*Nikkis POV*

I winked as I approached the gaggle of girls hanging around the door that lead to the backstage of the Whisky.

“Nikki, look for me in the front row.”

“Hey Nikki, cant wait to see the show tonight.”

“What are you doing afterwards Sixx?”

It was always the same. The girls always sounded the same, saying the same things, hoping to be the one to grab my attention that night. They were all starting to look the same too. The same hair, the same tight dresses, the same fake smile plastered on the same forgettable face.

Didn’t matter to me though. I fucking loved it.

I stopped next to them, leaning against the wall & flashing the arrogant smirk that never failed & I watched as they fell to pieces in front of me.

“So, what are you girls hanging around back here for?” I asked, making them giggle.

They babbled away, doing their best to impress me with their answers as I shut off, letting my eyes & my mind wander. I was halfway done mentally undressing them when a soft, flirty voice cut through the noise of the groupies.

“Hey rockstar, what’s a girl gotta do to get backstage?”

I turned my head, my eyes meeting with Beths before they trailed down every goddamn inch of her fine self. She was dressed in an oversized Led Zeppelin tshirt, tucked into a high waisted black denim mini skirt & white sneakers. She definitely wasn't like all the rest.

“Just show up looking like that, angel.” I smirked, not able to stop my eyes tracing her every curve. I strode towards Beth, leaving the wannabe groupies behind me without another word or thought, took her hand & lead her through the door.

“So when’s our next therapy session, Doc?” I mumbled, wrapping my arm around Beths waist, pulling her close as we walked.

Beth let out a forced laugh, wriggling away from me & glancing around quickly, checking we were alone. “Nikki, that night was purely for research purposes, we are not making that sharing circle a regular thing.” She said, her eyes darting around, looking anywhere but at me

“How about we just make the last part of our session a regular thing then?” I mumbled, placing my hands on her hips & pulling her into me once again, leaning my face towards hers, closing the gap between our lips.

Beth took a sharp step back & finally allowed her eyes to meet mine, a look on her face somewhere between panicked & scornful.

“What’s the matter, angel? Worried your boyfriend is going to see us?” I mocked, brashly reaching for her hand, but she snatched it away.

“Yes.” She snapped, before checking herself, blushing pink. “I mean, not that I think Vince is my boyfriend.. Obviously.” She stuttered as I let out an offhand chuckle.

“I should hope not.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?!” Beth retorted, her whole body suddenly stiff & defensive.

“Calm down doll, I only meant that Vinny ain’t the dating kind, I don’t want you getting you hopes up.” I shrugged.

“I’m not one of those girl out there you know,” she gestured towards the door that lead to the faceless groupies. “I don’t crave this bands attention & I don’t need it. Maybe its me that wouldn’t date Vince, ever thought of that?!”

I raised my hands in surrender to her over-sensitive tirade. “That’s all good then, because Vince definitely isn’t gonna date you darlin’, so don’t get used to your sleepovers." I replied, a little too harshly as I let my jealousy seep into my words.

Beths face went dark & her usually soft features looked twisted & angry.

"What's with you tonight, I didn't realise it was possible for you be more of an asshole than normal." She barked.

"And I didn't realise it was possible for you to be more of a stuck up bitch, but I guess people can suprise you." I hurled back, irritated by her defensive attitude.

"Real fucking nice Sixx, thanks. And just when I was starting to think you weren't all bad after the other night.."

"Oh, so you do remember the other night?" I cut in sharply. "Because here's me thinking it must've all been in my head being as you've been doing everything in your power to avoid me since then & pretend like it didn't happen."

"Oh grow up Nikki, I haven't been avoiding you. I've been working & hanging out with Vince, I'm sorry I haven't had much chance to stroke your fucking ego for you."

"I could probably free up some of your time if I went & told Vince that little promise you made me the other night. What was it again? Something about making me kneel before you'?" I laughed smugly as Beth's eyes flashed with fury.

"Christ, you just can't stand the idea of someone turning you down, can you?"

I let out a dumbfounded laugh at her bold pretension. "Remind me Beth, when did you turn me down?. Was that before or after you asked me to kiss you? Or maybe when you were up on the kitchen counter, moaning into my mouth." I asked snidely.

She glowered at me. "What part of me still sleeping with Vince & refusing to kiss you just now makes you think that I'm interested in you?"

I was beginning grow infuriated with her condescension, how could she just pretend like the other night didn't mean shit? "Tell me, is Vince really that good in the sack?"

"And what's that got to do with anything?" Beth fired back, irritated.

"Must be a good fuck if you're willing to get attached to someone who's gonna drop you any day now." I shrugged, pretending I couldn't care less.

“So that's the plan, he gets bored of me & then what Nikki? I move on to you? You get to sleep with me & ‘fufil my dark fantasies’, twist me into someone as fucked up as you so you feel a little less alone?” She spat venomously, her voice cold & sharp, taking me by surprise. My body went rigid as I felt anger descend over me like a mist. Beths face flushed pale as mine turned red, but she remained stubborn, folding her arms across her chest defiantly.

“Fine, fuck off with Vince.” I seethed, my jaw clenched & my mind ablaze with the thought of Vinnys hands on her, touching her like I’d not been able to stop thinking about touching her since that night he first took her home. “He'll get bored of you soon enough, I know I already am.” I finished bluntly, fixing Beth with a stone cold glare before spinning around on my heels & marching towards the backstage door. I leaned through, deciding I’d pick the first one that looked at me.

A tall, slender brunette in a tight red dress with fake tits & that usual fake smile glanced round, her eyes brimming with excitement when she spotted me.

“It’s your lucky day darlin.” I cooed, taking her by the hand & pulling her through the doorway & away from her fake ass friends. Probably for the best, they’d all hate her now anyway.

I turned back to face Beth, smug smile at the ready, trying to think up a shit-eating remark to say as I walked past her, but she'd already disappeared.

Fuck.

"So rockstar, where's your dressing room?" The brunette asked, her fingers finding their way under my shirt to my chest as she draped herself seductively around my arm.

I looked at her with uninterested eyes, my mind still entirely too focused on Beth.

I guess I could use the distraction, I thought, taking the brunettes hand & leading her down the hall & into the dressing room, untying my leather pants as we went.

*Later*

“And where the fuck is Vince?!” I yelled at Mick & Tom, tapping my foot impatiently as we all waited to the side of the stage.

“Not sure,” Tommy lied, badly, “I’m sure he’ll be here in a sec.”

“Pretty sure he’s in the toilet.” Mick mumbled, without looking up from tuning his guitar. Tommy nudged him nervously, but Mick just grunted, flicking him the middle finger without a glance.

I watched from the sidelines as Beth & Vince emerged from the toilet together, giggling like goddamn school kids. White hot jealousy burned through me, flooding my veins as saw them, hand-in-hand, disheveled hair & satisfied smiles plastered on their smug faces.

"Nice of you to fucking join us." I spat as they strolled over to us at their own pace, still laughing.

"Oh come on Nikki, we ain't due to go in for another 15 minutes, chill out man." Vince shrugged unconcerned, fueling my outrage with his nonchalance.

"You might care more about getting your fucking dick wet than you do this band Vince, but this shit actually matters to the rest of us, so either change your attitude or you can get the fuck out." I seethed, my eyes flitting dangerously to Beth, who had taken a cautious step back from me.

"Sixx man, come on," Tommy said, gripping my shoulder, trying to diffuse the situation. "it's not a big deal, we don't need this shit before the show."

I took a steady breath, trying to regain control over my temper. "Just go & change before you make us any later," I hissed at Vince through gritted teeth.

Beth lingered awkwardly as Vince waltzed off to the dressing room, unsure whether to follow him, stick around or simply leave. I decided to help her along with her decision.

"I think it's best you go." I said to her coldly, my bitter jealousy plainly obvious as I turned around & marched towards the back exit, desperate for a smoke.

"Nikki, wait-" Beth called out, following me outside into the cool night air.

"What do you want Lizzy?" I snapped, sparking up my cigarette & taking a long, deep inhale. "I've got nothing to say to you."

"I'm sorry-", she started, but I immediately interrupted.

"For what?! For fucking Vince & almost derailing my show?!”

Beths eyes narrowed. "I was going to apologise for what I said earlier, but yanno what, fuck you." She fired back, defensively. "Why would I be sorry for doing whatever the fuck I want with Vince, it's not like its any of your damn business."

"My fucking band, my fucking business sweetheart." I seethed, taking another long drag through my gritted teeth.

"No Nikki, just because they're in your goddamn band, doesn't make any of those guys in there your property, you don't get to lord over them like you own them." She replied, feeling brave.

"And what about you, huh? I fucking made you into this over confident little groupie & frankly, you're getting a little bit too comfortable around here."

"Excuse me?!" Beth thundered, her whole demeanor changing, "you didn't make me into anything, you egotistical prick!'

I smirked arrogantly, knowing I'd got to her. "You come to my gigs to see my band, you fuck my front man, snort my drugs, party with my guys. Who were you before you met me? A stuck up little princess who didn't know how to have fun. Face it doll, I fucking made you." I scoffed as I watched Beth's face flush red with anger.

“And what about your new piece of ass, huh? You gonna make her too?” She snarled. “You’re pissed because I fucked Vince but you’re a goddamn hypocrite Nikki, I saw you with that girl, taking her into the dressing room. I'm guessing she didn't go in there to help you with your fucking makeup?"

I paused, caught off guard, not realising my plan to make her jealous had actually gone to fruition. I couldn’t stop the sly smile from creeping on to my face. “What does that have to do with anything?” I asked, my voice changing swiftly from enraged to calm & deadly smooth in an instant, enticed by her hint of jealousy & eager to hear her answer.

Beth squirmed a little, realising the corner she’d backed herself into. She looked deliciously trapped.

“I just-” she tripped over her words as she scrambled for an excuse. “I just don’t get it, why are you so pissed that I fucked Vince?” She asked, diverting the attention for herself.

“Because I want you.” I said plainly, switching gears, my anger melting away as I watched her discomfort double as she tried to stay mad.

“What?” She asked, shaking her head in annoyance.

“Because I want you Beth. I’ve wanted you since that night I caught you doing blow in the bathroom with Tommy, the night that Vinny took you home when it should've been me. I want you & I want to be the only one that gets to have you.” I replied bluntly, smirking as Beths mouth fell open a little.

“But you don’t.. You don’t do the whole exclusive thing.” She mumbled awkwardly, still processing my words.

“You’re right. See princess, I’m selfish like that.” I purred, taking one last drag on my cigerette before flicking it away & taking a step towards her so our bodies were practically touching. “I don’t like exclusivity, but also, I really don’t like to share.” I breathed, our lips practically touching.

Beth scowled, suddenly finding her voice. “Well that hardly seems fair. You expect me to be loyal to you whilst you fuck every woman that shows you some attention?!”

I chuckled darkly, knowing how unreasonable I was being. “Pretty much.”

“You’re such an egotistical asshole!” She yelled, raising her hands to shove me away from her, but I caught them by the wrists in one swift movement & pinned them by her shoulders. Beths delicate features were twisted, her perfectly shaped eyebrows were furrowed in anger & her soft pink lips were pulled into a tight, thin line as she fought against my grip. She glared at me, eyes dark & full of hostility. Yet I saw a lingering passion in them. Her tight lips relaxed for just a moment & I saw her drag her bottom lip through her teeth, those dark eyes darting to my mouth. I smirked.

"You’re right, I am an asshole. But you still want to kiss me, don’t you, angel?" I breathed, tightening my grip on her wrists, grinning wider at her mixture of discomfort & pleasure.

Her lips parted slightly & I could hear her breath quicken as I watched her internally fight with her desires whilst I fought with my own. On the surface, we hated each other. I hated everything she represented, the fact that she didn't like my music & how she was like every other girl, sucked in by Vince's blonde hair & boyish charm. She hated my arrogance, my runaway lifestyle & the fact that I could see right through her good girl act & get under her skin like no-one ever had. And yet somehow, that hatred had paved the way for an attraction neither of us could fathom or understand. It was illogical, unwise & entirely unwelcome. But it was also intense, salacious & completely overpowering. We both knew we'd have to give in to it eventually.

She kissed me, unable to restrain herself any longer. I released my grip on her wrists & buried my fingers in her hair, pulling her closer to me. She tasted so damn sweet.

I pulled Beths hair roughly, tilting her head & exposing her neck as I placed hungry kisses along her skin as she moaned aloud, pushing herself up against me. I placed my hands at the base of her pretty neck, running my thumb across the skin gently as I brought her lips back to mine, dragging her lower lip between my teeth. She groaned into my mouth, rubbing up against me as I squeezed my grip around her throat a little tighter, smirking against her kiss as I did.

She was fucking delectable.

Just then, the backdoor to the Whisky swung open, returning us from our heady escape back to the dingy alley with a crash.

"Nikki, come on man, I thought you-" Vince started to say, before catching sight of us jumping a mile apart in a failed attempt to look innocent.

I coughed, trying to regain composure. "Yeah yeah, I'm coming."

Vince's face was like thunder, a mixture of outrage and betrayal turning up a storm. "Nah, doesn't look like you got that far." He spat

"Vinny, I-" Beth stumbled, walking towards him.

His eyes shot from me to her, disgust adding to the mix of emotions he was displaying. "I haven't got nothing to say to you." He said harshly, cutting her off. "& You, brother," he drawled sarcastically, "get your ass inside, we've got a fucking show to play, remember? Or do you care more about getting your dick wet than this band?" He quoted, bitterly.

"Fuck you, Vinny." I shot, shoulder barging him as I shoved past to get through the door.

"Fuck me? Are you fucking kidding, Sixx?" He screeched, quick on my heels. "You're out there grinding on my fucking girl & you're acting like I'm the fucking problem here?"

"Your girl?" I laughed crudely, "Since when does Vince Neil have a girl?"

"You know damn well what I mean. I haven't been hooking up with her for this long for you to just go & help yourself." Vince snarled.

"Well maybe Beths got her reasons for looking elsewhere." I sneered, getting brave.

"And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Well Vinny," I started, taking a smug step towards him, getting in his face, "Maybe if you satisfied her, she wouldn't come to me."

"Shut the fuck up Sixx, you know that isn't true!" Beth yelled, pulling on Vinces arm in a feeble attempt to separate us.

"Why else would she come running to me right after you'd finished fucking? Your bathroom fuck clearly wasn't enough for her so she had to come looking for someone that could finish her off." I suggested arrogantly, smirking at my own maliciousness.

"Vince, just walk away." I heard Mick say from somewhere, right before Vinces fist flew at my face.

*Beths POV*

I sat at the bar, drinking away my humiliation as I watched the two guys I'd shamefully kissed in the space of 10 minutes, up on stage playing a visibly tense set. Nikkis angry red cheek was glowing like a beacon for the whole audience to see.

"It's not like you & Vince were anything serious." Sophia said, serving me up another shot of tequila. "I mean, that guy has definitely been screwing around since you guys first hooked up."

"I know & if he'd caught me with anyone else, I don't think it would be a big deal, but it definitely crosses the line to go with one of his band mates & best friends really, doesn't it?" I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "Plus, I'm not exactly a normal groupie, Vinny is my friend, we hang out, he spends the night.." I trailed off, knowing I'd just put a definitive end to that.

"Why were you kissing Nikki?!" Sophia asked, raising her eyebrow knowingly.

"Don't start Soph ok, I don't need it." I replied, necking the shot & gesturing for another. "Let me just bury my shame in peace & fucking tequila."

"I don't get it though, I thought you were liking things with Vince?"

"I was loving things with Vince, I don't know what the fuck I was doing." I sighed. "All I know is that Nikki has a direct line to both my last fucking nerve & my emotional g spot apparently. Who knew they were connected?" I groaned, mentally scolding myself for the millionth time.

"You gotta figure out what you want babe." Sophia said sternly, disapproval written all over her face. "But what you've gotta remember is, neither of these guys are in this for the long run, so are they really worth it?"

I fell silent, sparking up a cigarette & looking back across at the stage.

"I want you, I need you

I want you to be mine tonight.

You need me, you tease me

Use you up, throw you away."

I listened to Vince sing, watched him prancing around, his striking good looks & flamboyant attitude on stage so appealing it made me weak.

Then I looked across at Nikki, dark & brooding, the complete opposite of what I thought my type was. He was conceited & rude, his lifestyle & interests were the furthest thing from my own & he pissed me off like no-one ever had.

If I was being honest with myself, I'd say that, up until tonight, he was right; I'd thought myself above Nikki Sixx.

But tonight had changed everything.

Tonight I'd realised that I wasn't better than anyone else, I was just as bad. Worse, maybe.

I watched Nikki pluck away at the strings on his bass, enjoying the sound for the first time. I let my mind wander back to that night he said he should've taken me home. The same night he promised to drag me down with him.

He'd been right about everything. I wanted excitement in my life, I wanted to have fun. I wanted someone to fulfill my darkest desires. I wanted someone to show me how to enjoy the dark parts of me. And that just wasn't Vince.

I watched Nikki play intently, that spark of desire igniting inside me once again. I wanted him.

My bad influence.