#thankfully A03 has a history

[thedo0zyslider]

Today, The World Is Ours To Own - 5K Words

My @mcyt-valentines gift for @djpurple3!! I had so much fun writing them :]

Summary: Fwhip and Jimmy spend one of many lovely days together, for the first time in a while.

A03 Link

Fwhip wakes with a yawn one sunny morning, gentle rays of light falling upon the bedroom. They shine down onto him softly, but still getting into his eyes. The wyvern turns in the covers, feeling for the familiar warmth that always lays next to him. He finds it still next to him, and smiles happily.

Jimmy sits up in the bed next to him, stretching his arms in the air. It seems the cod had just woken up as well, if the sluggishness of his movements indicated anything.The cod wakes up early every day, especially compared to his husband's sleeping schedule, and it is a routine the couple has grown used to over the years.

The two have been married for quite a few years now, a decade to be exact. Every morning goes something like this, like laying in bed for possibly far too long before starting the day. But Fwhip’s comfortable, so he never really cares, even if Jimmy does worry sometimes. 

They're not married legally, no, there were a lot of laws and social rules and duties and what not preventing that. But eloping in a church one night never hurt anyone now, did it. If people had guessed what was going on already, well the ginger wouldn't be surprised. Just as long as this marriage stays relatively a secret, he won't mind. 

Fwhip had first met Jimmy over ten years ago, when they were both younger and freshly in their twenties. The cod was from a nearby fishing village, one that sat on the Kingdom's largest river. It was full of fishfolk like him, many that would leave their homes for work elsewhere in the nearby cities.

Jimmy had done just that, not being too concerned about carrying on his family's fishing business. Plus, his older sister was already more than content in that job. Fwhip, who was born into noble life, had a newly rebuilt estate from his late father, after a fire had burned his childhood home. And killed his father and many of the estates staff in the process. He was looking for employees, and Jimmy was looking for a job. Plus he was pretty skilled at housework already. 

He gave Jimmy some freedom, like he did to all his employees. The blonde visited his sister and brother-in-law back at home twice a week, and the rest of the time he stayed at the manor with the rest of the staff. Over time they got closer, Fwhip accompanied Jimmy on some of his visits, and well; the rest was history. Eventually, the cod’s housekeeping turned from taking care of someone else’s house, to their own, and Fwhip wouldn’t trade that for the world.

Lizzie, Jimmy’s sister, had been nothing but supportive of their…..politically controversial engagements. Her husband Joel was the same in that regard, thankfully. Fwhip knew how much it would’ve hurt for Jimmy to lie to them. His sister had been the one to encourage his job searching, actually, once her own wedding had happened and he had nothing tying him down to the village anymore. Joel, who was the cod’s best friend as well as brother in law, had been the one to push him into the job offer and finally proposing. Lizzie still worked at their home village, while Joel made clay creations. It kept them pretty close, which meant the two couples saw a lot of each other. 

Fwhip’s own sister, Gem, had met his newest employee scarcely, but had listened to her brother's constant talks of how obsessed he was with the man. She was working on becoming a wizard, in one of the more magical towns up north. They didn’t get to see each other as much as they got to see Jimmy’s side of the family, but her visits were appreciated when they did happen.

The only ones who knew they were married were their families, in fact. And while no one had attended this little wedding besides a strangely named priest to officiate it, people had sent them congratulations. Fwhip’s sister, Gem, had been too busy with her wizarding to come visit them in person; But she had sent personal gifts to the new couple. They had dinner at Lizzie and Joel's the day after, and the other couple had made sure to shower the newlyweds in support and congratulations. 

And now here they lay in bed, the wyvern sitting up after a few moments of waking up. He’s decided to reminisce about their story another day. Today he has stuff to do, and a wonderful husband he has yet to shower in nothing but pure affection.

“Good morning handsome~” Fwhip hummed, pressing his face into the crook of his partner's neck. He sneakily placed a kiss to the cod's skin while he was there, earning a chuckle or two for it. “Oh stop it!” Jimmy laughed, feeling arms snake around his waist and squeezing. He leans into the touch, finding one of his partner's hands and holding it in his. 

“You know you love it~” The wyvern purred, placing another kiss into his neck. And maybe a few more, while he's there. 

Jimmy gave a faux sigh, yet leans into him further despite his complaints. “Somehow.” Fwhip just laughs in response, and peppers his partner with even more kisses. 

“Lay back down with me?’ He hummed, already starting to tug his partner back down. The wyvern wasn't quite ready to get up, not yet. At least twenty more minutes of cuddles where required before the day could truly start.

The blonde let a purr slip past his lips, and allowed himself to be tugged downwards and back onto the bed. So much for his morning stretches, it seemed. “How could I say no to that?” He mumbled, and maneuvered so that the two were in a more comfortable position. They were laid on top of each other basically, Fwhip’s head nestled comfortably into Jimmy’s chest. He snuggles into the warmth, much more than he already is, and mumbles something about how he wishes they could spend more nights like this, and that his husband wasn’t forced to sleep in a separate room half the time. The cod just sighs, but the sound has an undertone of fondness to it.

“You know I'm not supposed to be in here, right?” Jimmy mutters softly after a few minutes of quiet, lacing a few lazy fingers through his partner's messed up hair. His horrible (yet adorable) bed-head, as the cod often calls it. 

“I know I know.” The ginger sighs, letting his eyes close a little, relaxed by the sensation of his hair being played with. A sensation his partner knew he loved. “I just miss you.”

“Aww darling.” The cod purred, giving his husband a scratch on his scalp; right around the base of his horns. Fwhip leans into the touch with a happy noise. “I miss you too.” His voice is all sweet and genuine, as if it was dripping with sugar itself. The ginger just lifted his head, making sure he stayed nuzzled into his husband’s touch.

“Could we stay together? Just for today?” Fwhip asks, fixing his husband with his best puppy dog eyes. Not that they were needed. The cod bent to whatever his husband wanted pretty easily, as long as it was something within reason. He was truly that smitten, yes, but it’s not like the wyvern was much better himself.

“Mm, yeah.” Jimmy gave a fond huff, and placed a kiss into his hair. There, he’d folded with him barely trying. The softie “Yeah I think I'd love that.” A pleased noise came from the wyvern’s throat and he lifted his head, until the two men were eye level. He hoped the look he gave his husband was as sweetened as he felt on the inside.

“Love you.” Fwhip muttered, leaning forward a little, until their noses bumped together. He hadn’t gotten his morning smooches yet, and couldn’t get up properly until he did. It was a required thing whenever they shared a bed together, you see.

“I love you, too.” The cod responded, closing the gap between them. Each of them smiled into the gentle kiss they shared, a hand going to cup the wyverns cheek. He leaned into it, and gave Jimmy a few more kisses every time they broke away. He missed their slow mornings like this, the ginger had to admit, and was currently drinking up every moment they could have together; like he was a drowning man.

“I think it’s time to get up, dear.” Fwhip mumbled, giving his partners lips one last peck when he finally moved back, for extra measure of course.

“Does it have to be?” Jimmy grumbled, pulling his face away. He wanted to fix his husband with his most pitiful look, it seemed, to try and convince him to stay in bed longer. But that wouldn’t work today! Nope! The wyvern actually had motivation to get up and do something, and he wasn’t keen on wasting it!

Fwhip giggled, already starting to move off his partner’s chest. “Yes! I have things to tinker with!” He said, sitting up properly for the first time in about twenty minutes. But right when he managed to swing his legs over the bedside, strong arms wrapped around his waist and held him firmly in place; even dragging the ginger back down little.

“Let go of me, I need to get dressed!” The wyvern laughed, half-heartedly trying to pry his husband off of him. In response the cod’s grip tightened what felt like tenfold, clearly determined and unwilling for the moment to end just yet. 

“But Fwhipppp!” The blonde protested, making a small pout as he wrapped his arms around the wyvern's torso. A pout that was much cuter than it had any right to be. “I wanna cuddle you more!”

“What if I promise you cuddles this evening, huh?” He asked, going to hold Jimmy’s face between his hands. Fwhip squeezed his partner’s cheeks while he was at it, making the pout even cuter somehow. Dammit.

“Hmmmm, finee.” The cod hums after a moment of thinking, leaning into the contact. Kind of like a cat would; they both do a lot of cat-like mannerisms, actually, now that Fwhip thinks about it. “But you better keep your word.”

The wyvern makes a sound of faux offense, and makes a face to accompany it. “When have I ever broken my cuddle promises?”

“When you get too busy with working.” Jimmy pointed out with a huff, and a slight rolling of his eyes. To show he wasn’t truly mad by past instances, he entwined their tails the best he could at the angle they were at, and the ginger’s heart fluttered just a bit at the action.

“Touche. But I'm not that busy today!” Fwhip countered, knowing he would have to admit defeat on that one. It wasn’t uncommon for him to get so absorbed in his work that he forgot about everything else. He did feel bad whenever it happened though, always making it up to his husband the next day. The cod understood though, as a similar thing happened with his works and hobbies as well. It was a mutual flaw they were both shit at working on, basically.

“If you say so.” Jimmy grumbled lightly, finally letting go of him. Fwhip was now able to stand at the bedside, stretching his slightly cramped wings out after a long night's rest. His husband still laid on the bed, and would for a few minutes, content to stay snug under the covers for a few minutes longer. The ginger flashed an amused look in his direction, and walked over towards the closet.  A few seconds later, and a shuffling sound indicated that the cod was following his lead, and finally starting their day.

Fwhip was quick to change out of his sleep garments, slipping his dress shirt over his head with practiced ease. His gloves were next to be put on. Wearing them everyday was another one of the necessities in Fwhip’s life, he never went a day without them. Jimmy was now in his more normal clothes as well, ones that reflected his home town’s unique style and culture. Their fashion sense included a lot of jewelry and flashy things, so it wasn’t unusual to see the cod walking around absolutely bedazzled. (Much to his husbands enjoyment! He liked seeing his partner feel all pretty-like!)

“Do you see my coat anywhere?” Fwhip called over his shoulder, unable to find the garment in its usual spot. He looked fine in a white dress shirt, but the coat was always another necessity of his. 

“It’s draped over your desk chair, ruby.” Jimmy responded, nodding with his head towards the chair. He was putting on whatever assortment of accessories he decided to wear that day, the cod's wedding ring being the only consistent one. The only jewelry the wyvern ever wore was his wedding ring, and that was on a chain around his neck. He didn't want to ruin it in whatever mechanical work his hobbies involved. 

“Thank you darling!” Fwhip purred sweetly, and got a kiss planted on the cheek as a response when the cod passed by.

“What’s first on the agenda for today?” He asked, opening the bedroom door. The wyvern followed after his partner quickly, shrugging his coat over his shoulders as he walked.

“Well, I said we could stay together, so you're gonna be my assistant today!” Fwhip declared, starting to head towards the kitchen. Jimmy, now behind the ginger, followed after him with mild curiosity.

“Are you sure?” He asked, sounding a little uncertain. That was expected, for it wasn’t often the cod strayed from his normal duties around the estate. Nor did he like doing so, much preferring the predictability of his days to the sometimes unpredictability of his husband’s own work life.

“You have to follow my orders, and that's what mine are for today!” Fwhip said decisively, lightly bumping the others legs with his tail as they walked, Jimmy now right next to him. 

“Well, if you say so.” Jimmy shrugged, accepting his fate for the day without much more complaint. “What're your first orders then?”

“Help me make breakfast would you?” The wyvern asks, like he’s afraid such a mundane, and arguably adorable, offer would be rejected. Like Jimmy would rather starve than eat with him that morning, for some odd reason; even though they made sure to eat breakfast together everyday.

The cod makes a slightly curious sound, a statement slipping off his tongue. One rather close to what his husband had planned out, actually. “You literally have people being paid to do that.”

“The cooks have the day off for today!” Fwhip exclaims, finally reaching the kitchen. He starts heading towards the fridge, to pull out some of the morning’s ingredients. He was planning on making his husband’s favorite breakfast food that day, actually, and was glad he;d bought all the stuff for it in advance.

“Do they now…” Jimmy mumbled, already having caught on. Either he knew the wyvern very well, or Fwhip was horrible at surprises. It was probably a mixture of both. “You didn’t plan this, did you?”

“No! Of course not!” He exclaimed, already feeling his faux confidence about the lies slipping. And his partner hadn’t even asked too many questions yet, just asked the right one first. “They all just had vacation time!”

“Okay then.” Jimmy hummed easily, like that very bad answer cleared all his suspicions. The cod helped to cook breakfast, just like he was asked to, and was delighted to find out the meal was his favorite. And after their meal is done, Fwhip mentions that they’ll have to clean the plates and glass and what not as well. Because more people’s vacation time had just so conveniently overlapped us all. His husband gives him a knowing look, but doesn;t say anything more on the matter as he stands from their dining table

“What does my little ruby need help with now, huh?” The blonde asks, quickly scooping up the now dirty dishes. They’d already decided he was going to do them, mostly because Fwhip hates having to take his gloves off unless he absolutely has to. Jimmy doesn't get much time in the water either, not as much as he'd like, so he enjoyed washing things more than most people did. 

“Some paperwork and what not, if that's not too much trouble for you.” The wyvern calls over his shoulder, grabbing whatever glasses and utensils Jimmy had not been able to stack on top of the other dishes or hold in his own hands. He stands next to him at the sink, and slowly slips them next to other dishes, so they can all be washed together.

“Please.” Jimmy snorts, placing a kiss on his husband's cheek. “I know your business just as well as you do.” He turns the water on, letting it start to fall over the dishes as he reaches over to where the sponges are kept.

“And that's why you're my second in command.” Fwhip smiles, wordlessly handing his partner the soap. He opens the drawer next to him as well, pulling out two towels. One to dry the dishes with, another to place them on as they are set aside and eventually put away.

“Unofficially.” The cod hums, already scrubbing down one of their plates with the sponge. He does a thorough yet quick job of it, like he always does, and soon enough the plate is being handed over to the ginger, so it can be put away in its rightful place.

“Still counts!” Fwhip says, taking the plate from his partner. He opens the cabinet above them, putting the dish in its proper place, then he turns to repeat the motion with whatever else he is handed next. 

“It's strange that no one's here to cook, or clean. Other than me.” Jimmy mused suspiciously, handing his partner a now cleaned glass. “I didn't think they'd all take the same day off.”

“Well….” Fwhip squeaked out, putting the glass away a little too quickly and maybe almost dropping it in the process. “That's just how it fell?”

“Did you give all your staff the day off but me?” The cod asked, raising an eyebrow. Okay, yep, he already knew. The jig was up just as soon as it had started. Darn it.

“Maybeee~” The wyvern said, still trying to cover despite his fairly obvious defeat in this conversation. He wasn’t gonna give up that easily. “ Some servants are still here, just ones that won't interrupt us.”

“Like who?” Jimmy sassed, momentarily pausing from his work and placing his hands on his hips. 

It took the ginger a moment, really it did, to run through all the people working for him in his head, and remember who would probably be hanging around today. Since he told them all they were free for the day or didn’t have to show up. But he did find one eventually, in the form of one of the gardeners he had. “Catie! She's still working the gardens!”

“What if we wanna have a garden date, hm?” His partner hummed, now washing the last dirty plate that was left in the sink.

Fwhip gave a weak protest, filing the now cleaned utensils away in their rightful places. “She wouldn't say anything!”

Jimmy snorted, drying his hands off as he now finished with his quick chore, and the only chore he would probably do that day. “You're making it harder to keep this whole marriage a secret, you know.”

“I know, but it's worth it if it's you.” Fwhip hummed, walking back over to his partner and wrapping his arms around him in a pueso-hug thingy. They might not be in bed anymore, but some morning cuddles in the kitchen never hurt anybody. It especially never hurt the two of them, that’s for sure.

“You’re too good to me.” The blonde says, the fins on the side of his face twitching in what has to be enjoyment. He always likes getting hugs and similar types of affection after all, which is why his husband grabs him from behind so much in the first place.

The ginger moves his head a little, so he can bump their noses together once again, maybe just a little pleadingly as well. “I think I treat you just right, actually.”

“You stupid sap.” The blonde giggles, and moves in to close the gap between them once more.

“I know~” Fwhip purrs into the kiss, relishing in the sweet taste of it. “C'mon, we have some paper to handle.” He mutters when he pulls away, taking the cod’s hand and starting to lead him down the short hallway to his main office. For all the paperwork stuff, not his other hobby, which is inventing little trinkets here and there.

Jimmy huffs fondly, allowing himself to be pulled around, almost like  ragdoll if you think too hard about it. “Alright, whatever you say darling.”

“You know you like doing my job for me.”

“Yeah, maybe I do.” Jimmy says, opening the door to the study for him. Fwhip gives a silent thanks, and slips inside first. He shrugs his jacket off, knowing his coat sleeves will just annoy him when he tries to write with the ink, and sits down at his desk. The next few hours of that morning are spent hunched over a chair, Jimmy at his other side. The cod hums old childhood tunes to himself, organizing and handling any papers Fwhip can’t find the energy to deal with at the moment, or anything addressed to him and the other employees. The wyvern goes through a few requests for job raises himself, and makes a list of whatever parts he needs for his latest invention idea. It’s not the most productive day, but he’ll take it.

“How about we visit the river when I'm done?” Fwhip suggests, looking up from the papers for just a second. The one he'd just read over wasn’t keeping his attention at the moment. Probably from the amount of words he'd just processed. He glances over at the cod, and slips the paper into his stack. 

“Really!?” Jimmy nearly yells, whipping his head up from the documents had been sorting. His tail gave an excited flick across the floor, and the wyvern let out an amused huff at the sight. 

“Of course!” He hummed, looking through the papers that remained for the day. It was just a few letters, mainly from fellow noblemen. Sadly one from his sister wasn't buried in the stack this time. But there was some promising correspondence from one of his elven friends, so that was always a plus. 

Excitement bubbled out of Jimmy like a fountain, now coming through in his movements and patterns of speech. “When are you gonna be done?” He asked, a smile now stretching across his face. 

“In a few seconds, actually.” Fwhip informs him, making the remaining papers onto his desk into a neat little pile. He can read all those letters and what not at a later date. For now he is mainly excited to get out of this house and have a cute date with his husband. They never got to do that much, not anymore.

“You're the best husband ever , have I ever told you that?” Jimmy says, immediately abandoning whatever job he’d been doing previously. Like immediately .

“Mhm, no, I don't think you have.” Fwhup hums, reaching over to turn off the lamp in his study and make sure his desk is all neat and in order before he leaves. He would hate to come back to it all messy and unorganized after all.

“Well you are!” The cod says, quickly pecking him on the forehead before nearly sprinting out the study’s door and halfway down the damn hallway. ”Let's go!”

“Lemme get my coat back on, jeez!” Fwhip laughs, shrugging on his coat for the second time that day. Before he knows it, they have successfully snuck through the backroads of the town, and are following the river down to Jimmy’s home, a humble little fishing village. Fwhip liked visiting it a lot, since it was so quaint and cozy and out of the way. A sentiment his husband shared and a feature of it he often felt nostalgic for, especially compared to how busy and un-quaint their current town is, and will always be.

“Let's see Lizzie while we're here!” Jimmy suggests, slipping off his shoes and rolling up his pants legs, so he can wade through the shallow end of the river. A purr slips past the cod’s throat as he finally touches some real water again, and his husband knows he won’t be getting him out of that river, not until they reach their relatives house.

“Alright,” Fwhip agrees, his tail flicking happily as he watches his husband almost play around in the water, like a child might. “I guess I do miss her.”

“What about Joel?” Jimmy asks, glancing up at him with a cheeky little grin stretched across his face.

“Ehhh-”

The cod interrupts his stupid little act with a laugh, and the wyvern has to hold back one of his own. “You know you love him!”

“Whatever!” Fwhip retorts, picking up the pace a bit. “Let’s just get to their house! I can already see it from here!” He and Joel didn’t actually dislike each other, thankfully, it was just a stupid gag they shared. They actually got along quite well when it came down to it, both men being the creative type with their own passion projects. Their partners seem to think the bit is as funny as they do, which just makes the false rivalry live on longer.

Jimmy makes a sound in response, one of the ones unique to his species, and picks up the pace as well. The best he can when walking in the river, anyways. After that, it is not long before they are at the house, and Fwhip is knocking on the door. He waits a second before doing it though, letting him slip his shoes and stuff back on before they have to walk inside. 

A minute later, some quick footsteps could be heard approaching the door from the inside. Lizzie opened it, and her whole face lit up upon seeing his brother and brother-in-law. “Jimmy! Fwhip!” She exclaimed, going to give each of them a hug in turn. “It's so good to see you!”

“Hi Liz!” Jimmy said, returning his sister's embrace. She then moved to give Fwhip his hug, and the wyvern muttered his own happy words of greeting as she did so. His sister-in-law had always given pretty good hugs, bone-crushing albeit, but good.

Not even a minute later, Joel has appeared in the doorway behind his wife. The brunette isn’t really the hugging type, not like Lizzie is, but he greets them in his own special way. Like he tends to do everything. “Jim! It was about time you dropped by.” He says, giving his best friend a light punch on the arm. The cod returns it, right as Joel spares a glance at his partner. “And you brought the blummin’ husband, too.”

“Yes, Joel, I brought my blummin’ husband again.” Jimmy says, returning the punch in the arm he was given. Though it looks like his punch was a little harder on purpose, by the way Joel winced and threw a playful glare at the blonde.

“I'm right here, ya know.” Fwhip said, crossing his arms over his chest. Really, the audacity of this guy.

Lizzie cut off her husband, already being able to sense the nonsense this conversation could devolve into. “Alright boys, get inside!” She says, shoving the three of them in her house the best she can. It’s a smart call, cutting off the bit before it becomes a thirty minute thing. Like it had done a few times before. They were here to spend some genuine time together, not playfight like teenagers after all. Even the play fighting was more than a little fun.

Fwhip and Jimmy stay for lunch, and a few hours after that. The two siblings take the time to catch up, spending most of their time cooped up together in the living room, sometimes wandering outside when they need to go look at whatever fishing stuff Lizzie starts to ramble about. On the other hand, Fwhip and Joel stay cooped up in the latter's work room, talking about their hobbies. Joel shows him all his paintings and sculptures of clay, while Fwhip info dumps about whatever mechanical stuff he had been up to since they last spoke. They exchange ideas as well, with only a few teasing remarks passed here and there.

Eventually though, the visiting couple takes their leave. They would both love to stay more, but Fwhip is well aware of something he would like to do before it gets dark. To make the day complete, in a sense. It was something he’d been planning for a while after all, and was sure Lizzie and Joel would understand. Which is the only reason he felt no guilt over the sudden departure.

“How about some time to ourselves, huh?” The wyvern mutters, closing the front door. He flicks in his tail a certain direction, hoping his partner gets the hint. And that he hasn’t forgotten what’s down that way. 

“In our old meetup spot?” Jimmy asks, his eyes lighting up again. Fwhip feels absolutely giddy at the fact that he;s been able to cause that so often today. 

“Yep.” He responds, quickly placing a sweet kiss to the side of his face, unable to help himself. A face that was that happy and nice-looking always deserved to be kissed a lot. “Just like we used too.”

“I think I’d love that~” Jimmy smiles, and gives him a kiss in return, on the lips this time. Fwhip smiles in it, and cannot wait to get to their old meetup spot from back in the day. Way back when, when the two had just been boyfriend and boyfriend.

And so they went, on their mostly hidden little path by the river, back to one of the couple’s favorite spots, probably in the whole stupid world as well.

“Still like you remember it?” Fwhip asked, looking over the small area. It was a nice one, too, plenty of flowers dotting along the grass. A small section of the river was visible, and the little grove was decently covered by a thick amount of trees and bushes. As if nature had given them, and any other couple that stumbled across this, the most perfect rendezvous spot in town.

Jimmy smiled, his tail flicking happily against the floor for what had to be the hundredth time that day, God, the ginger loved it when he did that. It was so damn cute . “Yeah, it's still perfect.” 

“Remember when we used to make out here all the time~” The wyvern purred teasingly, moving their faces closer. He knew he certainly remembered, he didn't think he'd ever forget either. How sparse meetups and impulsive makeouts had turned into something much, much deeper.

“How could I forget?” Jimmy giggled, feeling a kiss be placed teasingly along his jawline. Yet despite that, he started to move them back where they had come from. It seemed a look at the old place had been enough for the cod, as opposed to the time the wyvern assumed they might be spending there that day.  “We're not doing that though, you still have unread letters on your desk.”

The ginger snorted, placing a swift kiss directly on his partner's lips this time. There, he’d won. “What are you, my assistant?”

Jimmy gave a fond roll of his eyes, speaking again when they pulled away after a decently long few minutes. “Yes, actually, I am.”

“I should demote you back down to housekeeper.” Fwip grumbled, yet he reached over to hold his husband's hand. The ginger intertwined their fingers, contradicting his grumblings with every damn movement he was making.

“Then you wouldn't get half your stuff done, between your flightiness and all your tinkering.” Jimmy pointed out, squeezing his hand lightly. Fwhip squeezed back without even thinking about the action.

“Why'd you have to be so smart?” He asked with a pretty over dramatic sigh, leaning his head on the cod’s shoulder. It was quite a comfortable place to rest, he had to admit, even when it was jostled from walking every few seconds.

“Would you love me if I wasn't?” Jimmy asks, taking advantage of their positions. He managed to sneak a kiss into his partner's hair, and then what felt like a few dozen more every second after that.

“Duh!” Fwhip exclaimed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. But it probably was to him, after all. “You're too wonderful not to love!”

“And you're my annoying little ruby.” Jimmy hummed, one last kiss being placed onto his head. It would be the last one of the night, but only until they returned home of course. The afternoon was only just ending, and they had a whole evening, night, and the next day after that to shower each other with their secret affections. Even if all the days couldn't be spent like this one had, it was still worth it in the end.

Fwhip hummed as they made their way back to the state, hand in hand, and knew he wouldn’t have it any other way at all.

[notallsandmen]

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @reallyintoscience & @beatnikfreakiswriting — thank you darklings❤️

Okay, here we go:

1. How many works do you have on A03?

13

2. What's your total A03 word count?

55,019 (I take so much time writing so few words)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The Sandman, WIPS for Hellblazer, The Hour, The Expanse

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Putting Out Fire With Gasoline, Nocturnal emissions, and its sequel License my roving hands (which I WILL finish so help me god), Dream nonsense (my first awkward fic) Defiling the Sublime (my Honk Zone Magnum Opus)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always! It may take me a REALLY long time, or it may be in seconds. If you ask questions, or write long comments, you will get an essay back! ❤️

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
I don't write whump, MCD, actually unrequited love, love triangles etc. That being said, I love writing angst when I have plans for a happy ending down the road. My angstiest fic would be Disintegration, which made me so sad that I ended it by hinting at a reconciliatory eldritch incubus visitation 🥰

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

The fic that makes ME happiest is Blanket Permission (which I am forever grateful to @quillingwords , for breathing the Purrito into life through her artwork)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No, that’s never happened, thankfully.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Hell yes — the kinkier and more historically overcomplicated, the better. I’m particularly invested in relating the smut to history of sexuality and history in general, as well as folklore and mythology.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I have two collaborative cross-overs that have been outlined but not yet written: Moulin Rouge AU with @academicblorbo , and Brideshead Revisited AU with @chaosheadspace and @quillingwords. I also have a Joanna Constantine/Death of the Endless WIP that will to some extent be a Sandman/Hellblazer crossover. Also, I really want to write a dreamling The Boat That Rocked smut fic!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. But Fern-Fevered was included in an anthology, which I will never get over

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have started two, but not yet completed them.

14. What's your all time favorite ship?
Freddie Lyon / Bel Rowley from The Hour. Will never get over them

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
Straight up copying @reallyintoscience ‘s response here: I exist in a state of optimism where I fully believe I will finish the few Sandman WIPs I have going.

16. What are your writing strengths?
Weaponised bathos (trying to make the beautiful slip on banana peel)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing incredibly slowly, Overcomplicating/overdoing historical research. My latest WIP has a full-on bibliography…

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I love peppering in words in other languages related to the plot, as easter eggs to come back to, but I always include translations at the end. I spent an inordinate time trying to translate BDSM terminology into Old Norse for Lullaby, which was frankly such a mad endeavour that it should be mentioned as an example of my writing weaknesses…

19. First fandom you wrote for?

In my head: The Hour. Published online: The Sandman.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Putting Out Fire (With Gasoline) — made infinitely better by @mathomhouse-e ‘s stunning artwork!

Tagging some lovely writers (tagging wildly here, as usual only do it if you have spoons for it):

@imnotcrying-ipromise @im-not-corrupted @hardly-an-escape @honeyteacakes @pellaaearien @karalynlovescake @so-i-grudgingly-joined-this-site @tj-dragonblade @two-hands-toward-the-sun @secondjulia @cuubism @dsudis @delta-pavonis @academicblorbo @valeriianz @gabessquishytum @aeon-of-neon @edgedancer77

[dimigex]

3, 12, 15, 23, 25 for the end of year fanfic asks! 🥰

Yay! Thank you for the asks! If anyone else wants to send some, the list can be found here. I love getting these because they make me think. Coincidentally, I usually forget everything when I read a question so here’s my scattered thoughts lol

3. Favorite line/scene you wrote this year - So there is a scene in Fragile Strength that I can’t include because it’s not posted, but it involves confessions and a rain storm and I just love it lol ,Otherwise, I’m quite partial to this bit from Beautiful, Perfect Disaster:

Kakashi knew that he'd made a mistake when Sakura looked at him with a mixture of pain and disbelief. The room spun, and he thought that he might be sick. He fought the nausea down and took a half step in her direction. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Sakura spat. Somehow, she drew herself up, towering over Kakashi in her fury. "For lecturing me about something you don't understand? For acting like you cared about me? For-"

"For falling in love with you." The words hung between them for a moment, louder than the echo of Sakura's anger.

12. Favorite character to write about this year- I’d probably say Tenzo in Healing Hands. This story is very personal for me and it’s been a joy working through the struggle of addiction, ptsd, and mental issues through a character’s life

15 Something you learned this year- The world actually won’t end if I half edit some of my works. Not everything needs a full edit or dozens of hours spent on it. Most people will not know the difference.

23 Fics you wanted to write but didn’t- Gah, there’s been so many haha I was supposed to be working on a Fantasy AU for KakaSaku that hasn't materialized yet. I also have a half finished work for Overwatch that I love but kind of abandoned in my wips. Both deserved my time but neither got it. I suppose Altered Reality should be on this list as well XD

25 a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read - Okay look, the truth is that my to read file in my email is currently. . . over 2,000 stories long and I’m horrible at keeping up with stuff. That said, I do have a few favorites that reminded me why I loved fanfiction (and got me back into fandom). So in no particular order:

- Take My Picture by @kendochick-moor, I literally read all of this at once and avidly waited for the next installments. I didn’t know I needed it, but it reminded me that fanfic is meant to be fun and enjoyable and surprising and just lovely. It’s one of the first stories that actually got me back to reading!

-hope is but a heartache by @uchihasass and not just because you asked me this question. I absolutely adore this fic and it makes me want to write my own time travel and fix it fic. I’ve been hooked since I started it and I’m always super excited to see the next chapter when they come. It’s one I’m always looking forward to.

- actions and consequences by @murd3rm1ttens, this is another story that literally just grabbed me and said ‘hey, do you remember Kakashi and Sakura, let me show you something cool and make you fall in love with them again’. The world building is lovely, it explores a lot of concepts about love, marriage, and expectations and I’m always astounded by how Mittens weaves canon characters and evens into the AU. It’s been a lovely ride thus far.

[pinkhairedlily]

Journey Away From Home...Forever

Prompt: Traitors | A03 link here | Connect with me on Twitter. Happy SS Month everyone! 🌸🍅🥗 @ssskmonth

Before we start, I would like to ask you to play your most heartbreaking song. Because this one's a what-if/a could-have-been, and it's not endgame sasusaku. When I was writing this, I looped Taylor Swift's the 1.

“I’m sorry,” Sasuke said as she healed his and Naruto’s wounds, their arms already cut in half and missing. Her face was a canvas of worry and tears had started to pool in her eyes, but she held strong despite this and focused her chakra on stopping their major blood loss. So far from the Sakura he had known.

“For what?” She asked through her strained voice.

“For everything.” Her eyes met his and he knew, somehow, that he was already forgiven long before he even uttered his apology. Ah, it was the same Sakura, the same loving, accepting, open-arms-welcoming cherry pink-haired Sakura, the only girl he ever truly looked at and the few ones he cherished the closest.

The tears started to roll on her cheeks just as she finished healing them, and it caught him off guard all of a sudden – the way Naruto reached out to wipe one side of her cheek and the subtle way she leaned into his touch. Sasuke looked away, his eyes finding Kakashi, and his former teacher’s expression basically gave it all away.

Sakura was in love with Naruto, and he with her, as it has been from the start.

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

He recuperated the whole week in the same room as his best friend, and this brought him back to old times except that he was missing the peeled apples on his bedside. If it was any consolation, she treated them equally during routine checkups with Tsunade and Shizune and during measurements for their artificial arms.

But she visited Naruto alone one night when it was already nearing dawn and the curtains were drawn between their beds. He saw her silhouette with her hand on his head and she leaned down for what seemed like a kiss, and a slight pang engulfed his being. It was an unfamiliar sensation, but it felt just as painful as the flames of amaterasu. He never knew what happened after as he tossed the other way, sparing himself the sight of her.

He missed the peeled apples on his bedside.

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

It was the first time he was alone with her, and it was a sad sight really – he was in a hospital gown with hair that already reached his shoulders while she looked immaculate. The white robes fit her perfectly, her hair tied up in a bun, the diamond seal on her forehead, and the glint of a silver band on her ring finger. Again with the unfamiliar pang.

“How’s the arm?” Her jade eyes looked at him expectantly.

Further inside his layers of emotions was a dormant beast kept in a large cage to freely sleep or roam until it decided to wake up. The noise was loud, banging inside the walls of his façade. Was it anger? Was it the urge to yell at Sakura and ask why she didn’t wait for him? Was it directed at him for wasting too much time and for being a coward right now?

Yes, he was stupid. He tried to kill her, and he was a traitor. He left her when she asked him to take her – twice. Yes, he was stupid to ask the questions he knew the answers to.

Sasuke moved the artificial arm for her. “Not quite fit, I think.”

Sakura softly removed the contraption, her fingers accidentally touching his skin, and maybe if they lingered a second more, he would have grabbed her and just held her with time suspended. But he didn’t, he remained unmoving, watching as her brows furrowed, and as she mumbled to herself while checking the computations on the board.

That same afternoon, he slipped out of the hospital, only to be greeted by Naruto at the gate who was ironically still in his hospital gown. “And where are you going?”

“You need a group of anbu to stop me,” Sasuke replied. He didn’t have anything with him, nothing of importance, and so he was ready to go and disappear.

“I would be enough this time.” The blonde smugly beckoned him over to a bench. “I need to tell you something.”

Sasuke sighed as he slid into the space beside him. “I already know so spare me the details.”

Naruto chuckled to himself, shy but proud at the same time, and then he stuttered over his next sentences. “Well, is it all right with you? I mean – you had history and all.”

Sasuke shrugged, not remembering any good moments, except for the time when she stopped Orochimaru’s curse at the Forest of Death…..when she prepared rice balls for him in their early genin days and she used sugar instead of salt….when she made reckless decisions to protect him during their missions….when she summoned him from the other dimension during the war and slumped against his embrace. “We don’t have history. We don’t have that kind of bond. She has that already - with you.”

Naruto sincerely looked at him, probably looking for slight indication of emotions contrary to what he said, but Sasuke knew that his friend already knew.

Thankfully, Naruto didn’t press. “It just happened. Maybe it was the void you left and the sadness we both felt. I hope you didn’t feel like I betrayed you.”

“Naruto,” Sasuke stopped him. “Just promise me one thing. Please protect her happiness.”

“You dumbass. I know that already.”

“You’re the dumbass.”

“Quite the dramatic. Tell that to her yourself, you idiot. Are you afraid you’re gonna cry?”

“Do you want me to pulverize you? Shamelessly flirting in front of me. I can try and kill you again.”

“Please, we’re not starting another war because of a girl!”

An amusing arm wrestling ensued on that bench, followed by laughter and further jostling.

“We love her that much, huh?” Naruto asked aloud.

“Hmm.” Sasuke agreed, letting the wind carry the unspoken words to its recipient. Yeah, I love her that much.

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

“When you walk out of here, you know you cannot go back, right?” Kakashi asked, arms crossed in front his chest. Sasuke heard he was gonna be the next Hokage. “From here on out, Uchiha will be listed as terrorists and a step inside Konahagakure will mean death.”

“Lord Sixth,” he tried the name. “That suits you, Kakashi-sensei.” Sasuke smirked at him one last time before walking away from the village’s gates.

“Are you sorry I’m the only one seeing you, kid?” Kakashi called out, but Sasuke just waved his hand.

“Sasuke!” Her voice rang out in the expanse of space, and for a moment, he heard the same pang of pain in his name. His feet halted on the ground, hesitating to turn around and lose his resolve. She briskly walked to him until she was in front of his sight.

Pink hair undone, tear-filled eyes, and quivering lips. She hugged him with an abandon, and before he could think rationally, his arm went to her back, pulling her closer for the last time.

“Please stay safe,” she whispered against chest. “For me.”

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity but was a mere minute. She was the first to pull away, but he was thankful for the few seconds she stood still – it allowed him to memorize her face, the loving expression she wore solely for him. And then she was gone, his fingers frozen, unable to do the expression of love only he knew.

The first step was heavy, like lead, the next couple even heavier, but he trod on to a lonely journey away from the place and people he called home….forever.

uploading early because i'm mostly out tomorrow! this is the last of my....prepared pieces. let the gods of creativity possess me for the rest of the month!

[scullydubois]

history in retrograde

~aka I try my hand at smut (!)~  read on a03

I'm totally out of my comfort zone here so uhhh...if this isn't the most embarrassing thing you've ever read, let me know! Also I know the title doesn't really make sense but I thought it sounded cool...if history is the past, and retrograde means going backwards, does history in retrograde mean moving forward? That's my thinking.

tagging @today-in-fic & @willowrose99

Scully is surprised to learn she's not the only one Mulder has pinned to the basement desk. Rated M, 1.5k. Set in season 7.

Her breath catches as he thrusts into her, her petite form shifting like a boat at the ocean’s mercy. She throws her head back in ecstasy. Her gaze catches the pencils stuck in the ceiling, noting that they form a mirror of her and her partner’s current position. How ironic. 

His hands envelop her exposed collarbone, pinning her to the desk she once resented him for having. That day seems like something that must have occurred in a dream, so distant from her current self that it can’t possibly have been real. She had been angry at him then. Thinking of leaving. Now he is one with her, and she doesn’t ever want to leave.

She started this. One day she wanted him inside her, and she didn’t want to wait until they were in her car, or on his couch, or in whoever’s bed they sought refuge in that night. A purely selfish motive, yet they both reaped the benefits. And after that first time, they’d be crazy not to do it again. 

Location aside, their office jaunts are a bit different than how they usually do it--though, thankfully, it has the same ending. When they are alone--alone alone, without the arousing threat of someone walking in on their little deviation from investigation--Scully unleashes. Her role as the long-suffering woman in a patriarchal sector is swapped for one a little more...dominant, and Mulder enjoys being at her behest. 

But in the office, she gives herself over to him. Her want is so overpowering that it needs to be smothered before the flame sets everything around her alight. 

And now he’s got her shirt unbuttoned down to her belly button, his lips switching eagerly between the plush where her breasts curve over her bra (black lace--she must have known what was in store when she got dressed this morning) and the metal ring in her navel. She’s had it since she was eighteen, but only started wearing it again because Mulder’s eyes popped out of his head the one night she put it in on a whim. 

He kisses a path from her navel to her sternum, pulling the straps of her bra off her shoulders and locking his mouth around her pert left nipple. Her heartbeat pulses against his nose. 

“Mulder…” she writhes under him, trying to maintain her dignity for as long as possible. Her fingernails scratch through his button-up. 

“C’mon baby, cum for me,” he murmurs into her skin. “I want the whole building to hear you, I want them to know how good I make you feel.”

He never gets to be this cocky when she’s in control, so he takes advantage of it while he can. He takes one hand off her collarbone to wrap her legs around his hips. The friction between them is almost unbearable.

He pulls his hips back, nearly exiting her entirely, then rolls forward in a smooth motion. Scully lets out a shriek, her hand flying to her mouth to muffle the sound. Before it can make it, Mulder grabs her wrist.

“No, no, no,” he taunts, pinning that wrist above her head, still thrusting into her. “And don’t even try the other hand, or it’ll go there too.”

She careens her fingernails into his back in protest. He chuckles and catches her bottom lip between his, sucking on it like he’s got to remove poison to save her life. She moans into his mouth. 

He rubs circles over her left areola with his free thumb. Her moaning intensifies. “Mulder...please…” she gasps as they come up for air. 

He moves to the right areola. “Here?” 

She trembles beneath him. He knows exactly what she wants but he’s too caught up to give it away so quickly. 

“Here?” He says, rubbing circles over her navel. She bites down on his bottom lip to shut him up.

He drags his finger down, down, down, until he’s between her legs. He swipes her clit, and she bucks up into him, whimpering.

“Oh, there?” he teases, nuzzling her neck. He continues massaging circles over her, and he feels her muscles tense beneath him. 

“Oh, fuck…” she breathes. He lets go of her wrist, and it joins the other on his back. She claws into him, her entire being shrinking around him…

He sucks in a breath as it hits, the sensation reverberating between them and making it impossible to distinguish their orgasms from each other. 

“Fuck! Fox! Fuck!” Scully screams in spite of herself. Mulder keeps her pressed to him so she can feel his every crest. She squeaks and whimpers as she rides out their bliss. For once, she’s glad they’re sequestered in the basement. 

When it’s over (somehow time froze and sped up all in one), Mulder slides out of her and rolls onto his back. He watches as her chest rises and falls, and god, he’s never loved a woman or a moment so much. 

He zips up as she, still lying flat against the desk, begins to button her shirt. 

“Working hard, or hardly working?” he quips, waiting for his breath to catch back up with him. 

Scully sputters out a laugh and rolls onto her side, her lips caressing his. She squeezes his hand. “Thank you.”

He chuckles. “The pleasure is all mine.” 

“I’m imagining a crystal ball showing me that the first time I walked into this room,” Scully giggles. 

“You wouldn’t have believed it?”

“I wouldn’t have wanted to.”

“Well, all it took was seven years of my gentlemanly courting…”

“...and here we are,” Scully finishes with a smile.

She’s quiet for a moment, then she sits up, prompting Mulder to follow. “Could you have imagined that?” she asks coyly, swinging her legs. 

“That I’d be fucking you senseless on my desk in seven years?”

Scully makes a face. “Yeah.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say that I saw it coming, but nothing’s ever out of the realm of extreme possibility…” he says with a goofy smirk. 

Scully straightens out her skirt. She’s taken to wearing one to the office these days, it makes such exchanges go a lot smoother. 

“Had you ever fantasized about it?” she asks, the flirtatious glimmer still in her eyes.

“About you, or doing it on the desk?”

“Both.”

“Well, yes, but I tended not to dwell on the desk so much. That was always more of Diana’s thing.”

Scully looks at him with a start. “You and Diana?...On the desk?”

“It wasn’t a frequent thing like with us. I think we did it maybe once or twice.” And then, with a smirk--”She wasn’t as insatiable as you.”

Scully frowns, and he taps her playfully, relieving her woes. “I’m just kidding. She was notoriously hard to please. And I didn’t find table-surfing very sexy then. It was actually more of a chore. Always her idea.”

“Well, this was my idea too.”

He looks at her with dopey eyes. “Scully, I’ve been ready to take you anywhere anytime since I realized you’ll have me.”

“But do you not like it?” she asks, concern growing in her voice. She tugs at her clothes self-consciously.

He kisses her temple. “Oh, it was so hot. So good. I should be thanking you for even laying eyes on me.”

She gazes at him with a half-smile, not quite convinced. He rests his chin on her shoulder. “Do you have any idea what a middle finger it is to everyone who's ever called me Spooky when you scream my name and it echoes off the walls of this office?”

“Well, now that I know I’m not the first…”

“But you are the last,” he assures her. “And you know what?” he says with a mischievous grin. “I’ve never echoed anyone’s name off the walls of this office.”

Now he’s got her attention. “Really?”

He nods. “Some people don’t give a damn about reciprocity,” he growls, throwing shade where it’s warranted. 

“But I do,” Scully coos. 

“I know you do,” he swoons. His lips meet her neck with a vengeance. He wants his presence to be known to all.

She basks in it for a moment, then--remembering herself--places a hand on his chest and leans away. “Good things come to those who wait,” she says cryptically. 

She hops off the desk and turns back to him with a fiery glare. “Tomorrow I’m going to bend you over that desk until you forget your own name and it’s all you can do to scream mine over and over,” she purrs. 

He licks his lips. “A friend of mine once said ‘eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we may die.’” 

She smirks. “That friend isn’t exactly following the advice of the Bible at the moment.”

“I’ve noticed.”

She sneaks over to him and stands on her tip-toes to meet his lips. He grasps her waist and breathes her in. “I love you, Daaannna.” He drags it out in a sappy way. 

Scully smiles up at him. “Love you too.” She sighs. “I mean, I love you, Fox.”

Their eyes meet, creating new universes. And so it shall be. 

[avatarnao]

Egos Start Wars

Pairing: Mako/Prince Wu

A03

******

In retrospect, he really should have known to keep his mouth shut. He should have known saying something would lead to this situation. It had been a long, long day though, and he was exhausted.

Prince Wu had spent the entire day dragging him store to store in preparation for some party Mako couldn’t be bothered to know about. He’s convinced the prince just wanted to throw one for the heck of it but needed an excuse. They spent well over four hours at some spa that left him feeling more frazzled than relaxed, then ate at some restaurant that cost more than a year’s worth of rent. At this point, Mako really shouldn’t be surprised by Wu’s lifestyle, only Wu isn’t technically ruling any kingdom anymore, and eventually, his funds will run out. Unless the Earth Kingdom decides to keep him around as royalty in name only. Mako honestly isn’t sure how it all works.

If all of that wasn’t bad enough, Wu disappeared for well over a few hours once they left the restaurant. He spent the better part of the afternoon driving all over Republic City trying to find the wayward prince, only to return to Wu’s home and find him there. Wu, of course, promptly berated him for wasting time and gallivanting around the city. Mako never wanted to throw someone out the window more than in that moment.

Now Mako finds himself at a stuffy event, forced to wear whatever Wu decided looks good on him. The room is packed with people from all over the world, here to celebrate… something; Mako still isn’t sure what this party is even about. He sighs, watching the crowd out of boredom as the prince prattles on to some diplomat from the Fire Nation. Mako vaguely hears something about the nation’s history, but he’s too busy watching Bolin fill his plate with food to pick up on whatever’s being said.

“Ya know,” he hears Wu comment as the prince slings an arm around his shoulder. Wu pulls Mako close, though his attention remains on his conversation partners. “Egos start wars.”

He says it so matter of factly. His tone almost condescending as if his own ego doesn’t threaten his life on a near daily basis. And okay, it’s been a long day and Mako is tired . He doesn’t want to be at some stuffy event surrounded by a bunch of people, and trying to maintain some kind of polite demeanor. He quickly learned during his time with Asami and Korra that this just isn’t for him. This is so far removed from how he grew up and what he’s used to, and he’s so tired of biting his tongue every time Wu opens his mouth, that the words slip out before he can even stop himself.

“I’m surprised yours hasn’t yet.”

The conversation stops abruptly. Two sets of wide eyes immediately shift focus to him. A hand covers the surprised gasp of the woman standing before the prince. Mako knows he’s crossed a line. Bodyguards aren’t supposed to talk back to their charges after all. It was an honest slip and one he will firmly blame on being tired when Lin questions him about it later.

For now, though, Wu is pulling away from him with a small chuckle, shaking his head as if mockingly disappointed. He spares his guest a look, one that says, ‘peasants, am I right?’, and the two diplomats let out awkward laughs.

“Oh, Mako,” he says in that condescending tone that grates on Mako’s nerves. There’s a smile on the prince’s face but his eyes hold the promise of punishment. He waves his hand at his bodyguard flippantly, as he returns his attention to his guests. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand the nuances of such high-class conversation.”

Mako grits his teeth, hands clenching into fists at his side. He looks around the room again as Wu starts the conversation back up, suddenly wishing he was anywhere but there. Relief washes through him then, because maybe if Wu is mad enough, he’ll ask Lin to give him a new bodyguard. He’d finally be able to go back to what he originally set out to do instead of playing babysitter to an overgrown toddler.

The thought of being reassigned makes him uneasy though. Who else on the force would be able to put up with Wu’s antics as much as he has? If he’s being honest, he’s not even sure who else he would trust enough to watch after the prince and ensure his safety.

He… he doesn’t want to be fired from this job.

Wu is annoying, sure, but he’s also very kind and thoughtful… in his own strange way. He’s loud and obnoxious, but very skilled in talking to others and de-escalating situations; even when he’s the one escalating them to begin with. He likes to be pampered and expects only the finest things in life, something that definitely came with years of being raised in a palace. Wu is very flamboyant. Dramatic. Constantly over the top, but, Mako suddenly realizes, he’d lay his life down for the prince.

Mako suddenly realizes how endeared he’s become towards Prince Wu. His gaze slides over to his charge as he chats about an entirely different topic than before. Wu’s hands wave around him, an extension of whatever story he’s telling, and Mako finds it almost adorable.

His face flushes at the thought and he quietly excuses himself to get some food, and maybe a breath of fresh air. He’s pretty sure none of them even notice his departure.

Bolin’s sitting out on the balcony with Opal when Mako steps outside. Their conversation drops the moment the door opens and music floods out into the quiet space. He must be noticeably distressed because Opal very quickly excuses herself and disappears back inside.

“What’s up, Mako?” Bolin asks as he claims the seat Opal just vacated. He sets his plate of food on the bench between then and frowns at the ground. Bolin promptly begins picking at a piece of turtleduck.

“I think I messed up with Prince Wu and he’s going to have me fired,” Mako answers with a huff, brushing a hand through his hair. The action displaces carefully styled strands, but he can’t be bothered to care about that. Wu might, but that’s besides the point…

“I’m confused,” his brother responds. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Yes…” He frowns. “No.” Mako groans, sitting back against the balcony’s railing and slumping in his seat. “I don’t know.” Bolin, precious brother that he is, hums in thought, head nodding as he listens to Mako’s woes.

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think he’s going to replace you.” Mako watches Bolin with a frown, waiting to see if his brother plans to elaborate on that thought or not. He huffs when his brother fails to elaborate on it.

“I literally insulted him in front of some diplomats, Bolin. Somehow I doubt he’s going to be okay with that.”

“Yeah but… if he wouldn’t he have made a huge scene or something if he was truly insulted?” Bolin points out. “I mean… look at how he reacted during his coronation. The guy isn’t exactly subtle.” Okay, yeah, Bolin has a point. Prince Wu didn’t exactly react like a king when his coronation didn’t go quite as planned. He’s grown a lot since then though… Besides, Mako doubts he’d make a scene in front of visiting nations.

He expressed as much to Bolin. Bolin promptly waves the notion off.

"You know," he begins. "Heard some people talking in there. Not only are you the longest bodyguard Prince Wu's ever had but he also pampers you." Mako blinks, giving Bolin a bewildered look.

"What are you talking about?" He asks. "Wu doesn't… pamper me!" The very idea is enough to make his face warm. Wu just drags him along to those things because he's his bodyguard. The prince doesn't have a choice!

"I don't know, Mako… just because you're protecting him doesn't mean he has to pay for your meals and take you on spa visits."

"Of course he has to take me! I'm his bodyguard ! I'm not just going to stand outside assuming he'll be okay!" Especially not after that bathroom fiasco. Mako still feels guilty over that… Bolin shrug, a know glint in his eyes and a small smile playing across his face.

"I think maybe he likes you," he says, grin growing wider as he leans close to his brother. "And I think, maybe, that you like him too."

Mako sputters and, yeah, his face is definitely on fire. He opens his mouth to reply when the balcony door opens again.

Music and laughter follows someone out the door, dying to a quiet lull as the door clicks shut. Mako takes one look in their direction and grimaces, recognizing the silhouette right away.

"Wu does not like me!" Mako hisses, hoping said prince is far enough that he can't hear.

" Right, " Bolin responds, leaning into Mako. "And he's totally not out here because he prefers your company over being the center of attention inside." Bolin shifts back into his seat and turns towards Mako's charge, voice light and jovial as he says, "Prince Wu! Heeey, how's it going?"

He's wearing that pout that seems to be perpetually stuck on his face, arms crossed as he steps over to the pair. One look at Mako, though, has the entire expression wiped clean as the boy throws himself into his bodyguard's lap. Bolin snickers at the clear display of affection.

"I was looking all over for you, you know," Wu says, tossing an arm over his face. "One minute you were there and then… poof, you were gone." Mako scoffs. He couldn't have been gone for that long. He honestly doubted Wu would even know he left.

"Oh… yeaaahh, sorry about that," Bolin says, looking sheepish. "Saw Mako getting some food and dragged him away for a little… ya know… brother bonding." Wu perks up at the mention of food, eyes honing in on the half empty plate between them. The plate quickly makes its way into the prince's possession.

"I was so worried something had happened," he says, thankfully finishing a bite before speaking. He turns to Mako with wide, wet eyes. "What if I had gotten prince-napped again?" Mako can’t help the exasperated eye roll.

“No one’s going to steal you away,” Mako says. Wu scoffs as if he doesn’t believe it. He mostly likely doesn’t. This is a conversation they have on a near daily basis any time Wu loses sight of Mako.

“Bolin,” Wu says, attention shifting to the earthbender. “Would you mind giving us some room to talk?” Bolin puts his hands up in a placating gesture, sliding off the bench and onto his feet. He gives Mako a thumbs up and a grin, silently encouraging his brother to say something. Mako can only frown as Bolin disappears back inside.

Wu shifts in his lap but makes no move to get off him. He clears his throat, gaze looking everywhere but at his companion.

“I’m sorry,” Mako says because the tension is grating on his nerves, and someone needs to say something. The prince’s eyes are on him in an instant. “I know I spoke out of turn and… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you like that.”

“Oh, Mako,” Wu says with a laugh, gently patting his shoulder. “I wasn’t insulted. In fact, I appreciate your honesty. It’s refreshing.”

“It is?”

“If anything,” Wu continues as if Mako hadn’t even spoken. “ I should be apologizing to you. ” He turns in Mako’s lap, hands straightening out his collar with a smile. “I should’ve realized sooner that these things make you uncomfortable, and I’m sorry for forcing you to come. In the future, I’ll ask Chief Beifong to give you the night off.”

“No!” Mako grabs his hands, eyes wide in alarm. Wu blinks at him in surprised confusion. Mako clears his throat, letting go and sitting back, eyes averted from the prince in his lap. His cheeks feel warm. “No… that… that won’t be necessary. I, uh… I don’t know if I’d be able to relax not knowing if you were doing okay or… not….”

Wu looks positively delighted by this bit of information. He looks down at his hand resting in his lap and sighs.

“That makes me feel so relieved,” Wu confesses. “I spend so much time at these events and, while I love them, it’s exhausting being around people who just say what you want to hear instead of what you need to. With you around, though, it’s not as exhausting. I’d even go as far as saying I enjoy having you here with me.”

Mako stares, and continues to stare at the prince. He doesn’t know what to say to any of that. Wu actually likes having him at these stuffy parties?

“Why?” he finds himself asking. Wu huffs and if it wasn’t so dark, Mako’d swear he’s blushing.

“Of all the bodyguards I’ve ever had,” the prince says. “You’ve been the most fun to have around. I know I can be overdramatic and obnoxious sometimes. But.. I feel like with you, I can unapologetically be myself. Even if you are just humoring me, you at least go along with all the shopping and spa visits.” He pauses to take a breath, shoulders rising and falling. When he speaks again there’s a slight tremor to his voice as he whispers, “I think maybe that’s why I’ve fallen for you.”

“I don’t think you’re obnoxious,” Mako pauses, shaking his head with a smile. “No… that’s not right…” Wu’s face crumbles, hope quickly fleeing his eyes. “I did think you were obnoxious at first, but now… now I think I just find it… endearing.” He takes Wu’s hand into his own, gently rubbing a finger against his impossible soft skin. “I actually like how over the top you can be about things, it’s… cute, in its own way.” That brings the smile back to his prince’s face, and it makes the one on Mako’s grow wider as their eyes meet.

“I think maybe that’s why I’ve fallen for you too.”

Wu’s lips are just as soft as the rest of him, Mako discovers. Kissing, Mako realizes, is also something he will grow to love about the Earth Kingdom’s prince.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[chocoluckchipz]

The Other You - 14

Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

< Previous   

“You’re on a roll, Marinette,” Adrien said, signing on the lines she’d indicated. “Five more completed outfits in a week. At this rate, you’ll be done way ahead of the due date.”

“Quite possibly,” she replied with a smile. “These are a few of the easier pieces, though. Others will take more time.”

“How many do you have left?”

“I think ten complete outfits and a few accessories. But we still have a month before the show, and with Felix by my side, I’m certain we’ll be done in three weeks max.”

“That’s amazing. Congratulations.”

“Largely thanks to you.” Marinette smiled at him again, picking up one of two small boxes she’d brought in with her. “Speaking of which—I wanted to thank you for that. It’s not much but I hope you’ll enjoy them.”

Adrien’s eyes widened as Marinette put the box into his hands. A present? From her to him? He could hardly believe it despite how far their relationship had come since he had apologized a few weeks ago. It wasn’t perfect. Far from it. But Marinette stopped avoiding him, and they could even hold a friendly, if short, conversation whenever they met. A present, however, was something beyond any of Adrien’s expectations. He raised the lid and almost gasped, a head-spinning aroma filling the space around him.

“You still like them, don’t you?” Marinette asked, watching his reaction. “Felix said you do, so direct all of your complaints to him.”

“I love eclairs.” Adrien grinned. “Thank you so much.”  

“Thank you,” Marinette said, putting a second box on his desk. “Can you also give this to Felix? I got busy finalizing the outfits and forgot to give it to him before he left.”

“Will do.” Adrien peeked into Felix’s box. Macarons. Yum.

“Thank you.” Marinette gathered her papers in a folder and clutched it to her chest. “I’ll be going then. Have a good evening, Adrien.”

“Have a good evening, Marinette.”

The moment the door closed behind her, Adrien dropped into his chair and grinned.

“She’s so pretty,” Duusu flew out of his hiding place. “You two would make such a beautiful couple.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Plagg yelled from his basket. “She hates our boy. He has no chance.”

“She didn’t seem to hate him just now,” Duusu defended. “Tell him, Nooroo. You felt it, didn’t you? She was happy to be here with him.”

“She was,” Nooroo said, munching on a cut of red silk. “But she also was hesitant and cautious. A little scared. Mostly happy, though.”

“Quit it, guys,” Adrien interrupted. “She’s happy because she’s on track with her work. Hesitant, cautious and scared because it takes a while to restore trust with a history as complicated as ours. That’s it. There is nothing more. There could be nothing more. I don’t think I’ve reached a ’friend’ tier yet, much less anything higher. And it’s not like I’m trying for anything above friendship either. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a ton of work to deal with before we can leave.”

Leaning over his desk, Adrien got back to the paperwork he was reviewing before Marinette came. With a mischievous grin, he reached into one of the boxes and popped an eclair straight into his mouth. They baked them together the previous night, but Marinette didn’t tell Chat that it was a present for her boss. Should he tease her about that?

“I bet five wheels of Camembert you want there to be something more.” Plagg plopped in front of him, a piece of his stinking cheese in his paws.

Adrien furrowed his eyebrows. “Wha—Plagg. No. You know I love Ladybug.”

“Yeah, and that’s why you had this sad, longing look on your face when you said, ‘there is nothing more’.”

“No, I didn’t,” Adrien protested. “Marinette’s just a friend.”

Plagg quirked an eyebrow. “A friend you spend most of your day with—as Felix by day and as Chat Noir by night. There’s barely any  time left when you aren’t with her.”

“That’s just how things worked out for now. Nothing I can do about it.”

“Nothing you would do,” Plagg challenged. “Because you’re enjoying your time with your ‘just a friend’ way too much to change anything.”

Adrien leaned back into his chair. Of course, he enjoyed his time with Marinette. He wouldn’t even bother to deny that because there was absolutely nothing wrong or weird about it. Marinette fed him delicious, homemade food daily, their dinners always filled with laughter and warmth. After years of surviving on prepackaged, frozen cuisine and local take-out, Adrien more than appreciated that. Since ‘Felix’ showed up, Marinette had stopped taking work home, which allowed them time to challenge each other in video games or watch an occasional movie after dinner. Adrien hadn’t done either of those in years. Not with a friend, at least.

Why should he change anything about their situation? Why would he? Marinette was wonderful and fun and absolutely amazing. So much that Adrien found himself dreading having to go home on multiple occasions already. She was warmth and light. She accepted him just the way he was, bad jokes and untimely puns, his dorkiness and love for anime. Being with her, he could be himself, spare revealing his civilian name, of course. Marinette felt like the home Adrien never had. There were even a few nights he’d accidentally fallen asleep on her couch, so cozy and comfortable he felt at Marinette’s. The first time that happened, Chat had forced himself up and away as soon as he woke up in the middle of the night, covered by a blanket. In all of the following cases though, Chat was having trouble doing so before the light of the rising sun peeked above the horizon. He reasoned that as long as he left before Marinette was up, it was all good.

There was one thing Adrien would definitely change, though. If he could.

‘Felix’.

A shiver ran across Adrien’s skin at the slightest memory because, unfortunately enough, he was able to remember everything that was happening during his ‘akuma’ times. Even now, Adrien could recall that overwhelming, insatiable desire to help and please Marinette coursing through his veins upon akumatization. Completely overpowered by it, ‘Felix’ could hardly control his actions. Yes, he helped with making outfits, courtesy of the real Felix being a great professional. However, it didn’t stop there.

‘Felix’ constantly flirted with and complimented Marinette. For the sole purpose of giving her a confidence boost, of course. He chatted nonstop about everything and anything so she wouldn’t feel lonely. He cracked jokes and punned to brighten her mood and make her smile. He did everything she could potentially want. And Adrien meant everything. Lunchtime was approaching? ‘Felix’ was setting the table and delivering the food he knew Marinette liked plus a surprise item from the cafeteria just in time for her break. Her cell phone chimed? He was holding it out to her a second later. She had to leave the room? He was opening the door. Marinette mentioned she was thirsty or even looked like she could use a drink? ‘Felix’ was already holding at least three different bottles he’d just bought from the vending machine down the hallway for her to choose from. Marinette needed to stand up, he was right there offering her a hand. Marinette needed to use the washroom… Yup, he opened the door for her, walked her down the hallway and had the sense to ask how it went and if she was feeling better.

And he did all of it with that serious, mostly emotionless face his cousin always wore around anyone other than his family.

Banging his head on the desk, Adrien groaned. He had never been so embarrassed in his life. The whole situation was humiliating and mortifying for both of them. He even debated giving up on this crazy idea of his after the initial trial run, but in the end, Adrien couldn’t bring himself to do so. Marinette needed him, and he wouldn’t be the man he thought himself to be if he couldn’t bear some humiliation in order to help a friend in need. Thankfully, after establishing some boundaries which ‘Felix’ had a really hard time respecting, Marinette seemed to have gradually gotten used to ‘Felix’s’ wacky ways. Or at least she had told Chat Noir so, who was sure to ask her as often as possible about what she thought of her new assistant and if he needed his butt kicked.

His phone chimed, bringing Adrien out of his mental ordeal.

Nino: Hey. I know our lunch didn’t go that well last time, but would you like to grab another one? I want to try that apology one more time.

Adrien let out a puff of air, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Nino never had been one to give up easily on anything he really cared about. After having had some time to cool down himself, Adrien’s initial anger and resentment subsided, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to give up on Nino either. Especially not after his former best friend put aside his pride and reached out first.

Adrien: Sure. You do owe me a meal since I paid for the last one.

Nino: How does Saturday sound? Around noon? The same place?

Adrien: It’s a date.

“You haven’t had enough?” Plagg snarked from Adrien’s shoulder.

“Quite the opposite,” Adrien replied, relaxing in his seat. “I’ve had enough. I’ve been angry and resentful for years and I’m tired of that. I’ll meet with Nino again and if everything works out, I’ll get a friend. If not, closure doesn’t sound half bad. In any case, anything would be better than continuing the way I’ve been going up until now. Don’t you think so?”

Plagg grumbled.

“It’s a wise decision,” Nooroo spoke up. “Though I must admit I hope you can make it work. You feel lonely rather often, Master. Some friends will do you good.”

“He’s got me,” Plagg huffed. “Who else could he need?”

“Social interaction is an essential part of human existence, Plagg,” Nooroo replied. “And from what I’ve seen so far, Adrien would greatly benefit from having human friends in addition to kwamis.”

“Oh, you mean like Marinette?” Plagg snickered, glancing at Adrien. “She’s a really great friend to you, Adrien, isn’t she?”

“Not yet,” Adrien responded absentmindedly, returning to his paperwork once again.

In the last few weeks, the kwamis had taken a liking to discussing his personal life and choices, with Plagg inevitably being the one to criticize his every move. At first, Adrien had fought back, trying to justify himself. However, as time passed, he realized that it was futile and gave up, learning to ignore them instead. Adrien figured they’d lose interest eventually, and the less he played along, the faster that would happen. “We’re more in ‘not enemies anymore’ territory.”

“But you do want her to be your friend again, don’t you?”

“I already consider her a friend. It’s only a matter of her accepting Adrien-me as one at this point.”

“So why don’t you do anything to help that happen?” Plagg asked, floating right in front of Adrien’s face. “You’re going to lunch with Nino to rekindle your friendship. Ask Marinette to lunch as well. I’m sure it’ll help her to warm up to you faster.”

“I’m already spending lunches with Marinette every day.”

“As ‘Felix,’ which is unfair if you ask me.”

Adrien put his papers away and looked at Plagg. “How so?”

The kwami started to pace in a circle in midair with a smug grin on his face. “Well, by spending almost all of your day around her as Chat Noir and Felix, you’ve had a chance to get to know Marinette better. As a result, you want to be friends with her again. She, on the other hand, thinks she’s spending her time with three different people, Adrien receiving the least of her attention. How in the world is she going to decide if she wants to be friends with you if she has no opportunity to get to know you? It’s not like you’re going to reveal your identities to her, are you?”

Adrien hummed. Plagg had a point. He had been rediscovering this new, more mature, but just as fun as ever Marinette all this time. Still as brave and fearless. Kind, compassionate and fun. Creative and beautiful. He already considered her his friend again. For her, though, Adrien had barely moved from “enemy” to “can tolerate him” territory. At least that was what Adrien had gathered from the way Marinette behaved around him and what little she let slip around Chat. Perhaps Plagg had a good idea for once, and Adrien needed to spend more time with Marinette as himself if he wanted her to give him a real chance.

“And what do you propose I do?”

“I already told you,” Plagg groaned. “Ask her out to lunch. Easy.”

“Yes! Ask her to lunch, Master,” Duusuu added. “It’ll be so romantic.”

Adrien frowned. “Good point. I should make sure she knows it’s a friendly lunch and not a date, or she’ll never accept. Maybe I should make it work-related? Then she'd be more likely to agree, right?”

“Absolutely.” Plagg grinned. “But that means ‘Felix’ would need to leave before lunch that day, wouldn’t he?”

Adrien narrowed his eyes at the kwami. “You’re doing this only so you can de-akumatize me, aren’t you?”

Plagg’s grin widened before he dramatically gasped. “How could you think that about me? Really, Adrien? After everything we’ve been through?”

Adrien quirked an eyebrow.

“Nooooo.” Plagg faked disappointment. “Do you really think I enjoy tickling you to the point of forcing you to escape the office to make me pay for it?”

Adrien glared. “Marinette thinks ‘Felix’ has some kind of health issue thanks to you.”

“You told me yourself to do ‘whatever it takes’ to get you out of that room, didn’t you?” Plagg responded with a look of utmost innocence on his face. “And is this what I get for my hard work? Do you even realize how hard it is to get you away from her? You should be thanking me, not complaining.”

“Don’t count on it.” Adrien sighed, turning his attention back to his papers. “Okay. I’ll ask her to lunch. Now, leave me alone. I have work to do.”

“As you wish,” Plagg grinned and flew away.

Adrien tried to work, struggling to concentrate for some time. Asking Marinette to lunch as Adrien was probably not a good idea, but Plagg was right. If he wanted to make any progress in his goal of renewing their friendship, he had to do something as Adrien as well. Lunch sounded easy and innocent enough.

***

The aroma alone was making him dizzy. Gosh, he wondered if that rent fee was a smart choice after all because one of these days he was sure Marinette was going to kill him with the deliciousness of her food. That or he’d get addicted and become her slave for a meal a day. He couldn’t let her know, though. After all, he was Chat Noir, the hero of Paris and the coolest cat in the city. He forced himself to forgo the ode to her food he’d prepared and simply ask her instead, “What smells so good, Princess?”

“Navarin D’Agneau,” Marinette replied with a smile. “Would you mind cutting the bread, Chat? I can’t leave this pot alone.”

“Of course.”

“Wash your paws first.”

“Do I look like I have a death wish to touch your food with dirty hands?” Chat chuckled and dodged Marinette’s attempt to smack his shoulder. He stuck his tongue at her. “Missed me. Better luck next time.”

“Real mature of you, Chat.” Marinette laughed. “What are you, five?”

“No. But I’m eternally young.”

“I can see that. Before you get to that bread, can you pass me that ladle?”

“Your wish is my command.” He bowed and, after carefully washing his hands, passed her the utensil.

“Dork.” Marinette giggled as she ladled their meal into bowls. “Finish the bread and we’re ready to go.”

“Right. Already on it.”

How they fell into this easy routine, he didn’t know, but their dinners slowly morphed into them preparing the meal together instead of Marinette cooking for him. Not that Chat was helping much, but it felt good not to be useless in the kitchen. It also meant he could head over straight after work, instead of waiting for nine o’clock. He could always claim he had come early to help.

Their conversations had evolved as well as they discussed their days and cracked jokes like a pair of old friends. ‘Felix’ and his antics were a constant in their discussions. However, today it was a different man that Marinette was talking about.

“My boss asked me to lunch,” she said as they were nearly finished with their meal. “I couldn’t say no because he used the work excuse, but I don’t really know how I feel about it.”

Chat swallowed his food. “Why? I thought you didn’t hate the guy anymore?”

Marinette pursed her lips. “No. I wouldn’t say I hate him. He apologized and we talked and cleared all the misunderstandings, so I guess we’re good in that respect.”

“I feel like there’s a ‘but’.”

She hummed. “There is. Even with everything resolved, I don’t think I’m ready to jump back into friendship territory with him yet, but I feel like this is where he wants to be already.”

Chat’s shoulders slumped. Plagg was right. Marinette didn’t see Adrien as a potential friend yet. Perhaps he’d rushed with the whole lunch thing.

“You should’ve just told him that,” he murmured, focusing back on his bowl. “I’m sure he would’ve understood.”

“He’s my boss, Chat. And he’s been helping me with my collection even though it isn’t essential to Gabriel’s success during Fashion Week. I can’t refuse him something as simple as lunch.”

“But you shouldn’t have to force yourself to have lunch with someone you aren’t comfortable with, even if he is your boss,” Chat said, already thinking of how he could cancel on Marinette without making her suspect a thing or making her uncomfortable. “Tell him you’re busy. He used work to invite you, so use work to refuse the invitation.”

She took a few moments to reply, but when she did there was a smile on her lips. “Nah. I’ll go. He’s been trying really hard to atone for his mistakes, so maybe I should also try to make up for mine. Getting lunch together sounds easy enough and seems like a good opportunity to see if we could be friends again one day.”

He stilled. “Are you sure?”

Marinette nodded. “Positive. What’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like he’s going to fire me or anything.”

Chat grinned. “I’m sure he won’t. You’re way too pretty and talented to be fired. Not to mention an amazing cook. Bring him some pastries and he’ll be putty in your hands forever.”

Marinette giggled. “You’re such a professional flatterer, Chat. I bet you can give Felix a run for his money in that department.”

“I’m sure I can. What do I get if I win?”

“What do you want?”

“Another chance to kick your ass in UMS.”

There was a glint in Marinette’s eyes as her lips stretched wide in a grin. “You don’t have to win a prize for that. You’re so on, Chat Noir.”

“Prepare to be vanquished, Princess. I’ve been practicing.”

“Dream on. You’re going down. Loser washes the dishes.”

“Best of five wins.”

“I’m turning the console on.”

“I’m cleaning the table.”

“Let the battle begin!”

***

Two victories, three lost games, and one session of washing the dishes later, Chat Noir lingered at Marinette’s place as long as he could. He would’ve stayed for another hour or two, but he only had so many excuses to use. Around midnight, Marinette shoved him out the window, claiming she had to wake up early the next day.

“You still have your patrol to do, don’t you? Go. Don’t make Ladybug wait,” she ordered.

The truth was, Ladybug was the last person Chat Noir wanted to see right now. Don’t get him wrong—he still loved her. He just couldn’t look her in the eyes, knowing that he was keeping secrets from her. It was more than Chat could handle at the moment. Revealing said secrets was out of the question as well because that was sure to bring up conversations he wasn’t ready for. Not to mention Ladybug, as the Guardian, would want Nooroo and Duusu back in the Miracle Box and Chat couldn’t let that happen yet. Marinette’s show was scheduled for the end of August. She needed ‘Felix’ in the meanwhile. This time frame would also give Chat time to prepare for an inevitable reveal of his and Hawkmoth’s identities. Until then, though, Chat Noir was doing his best to avoid his partner because lying to her was something he couldn’t do, and keeping secrets from her was something he wished he didn’t have to do.

After racing as fast as he could through his patrol route—so as not to meet his partner—Chat Noir headed home, thoughts of Marinette and their impending lunch on his mind. He had to do his best for her to feel comfortable and safe around him. He couldn’t scare her away now, not after Marinette’s friendship had somehow migrated to the top of his priorities. He had no idea how that happened or even why, but if Adrien could make it a reality, he’d be damned if he didn’t give it his best effort.

Next >

[raz-b-rose]

Not in Duckburg Anymore Chapter Two: Survival is the Name of the game

A03

Previous   Next

Webby had lost sight of the boys and the clear white that had been the mirror was quickly changing onto a new scenery. The moment she exited the portal she saw the tree line from above. She maneuvered her body, pushing off tree branches and trunks until she is safely on the ground. She rolls into a fighting stance, circling her surroundings quickly. 

After a few minutes of silence, she looks up, waiting for the boys to fall through as well. A few more minutes passed and nothing. They had been right behind her right? Did the mirror shut off before they got sucked in? Where was Dr. Gearloose? 

Webby signed, circling the clearing she landed in once again. There were few sounds, and it looked as though the day was coming to an end, shadows lengthening from the trees. So far everything looked normal, maybe she just got sent somewhere else in Duckburg? 

Climbing a tree to get an idea of her surroundings would be best. Webby reaches behind her for her grappling hook. The feeling of the familiar weapon in her hand calmed her nerves a little. Time to get out here and back home in time for dinner. She extends her arm, dropping her gun in shock. 

She quickly takes in her appearance, revulsion filling her to her very core. Smooth skin like all her feathers had been plucked, as well a weird hard surface on the tips of her fingers. She reaches up to her face, emotions growing as the smooth surface seems to cover her whole body. She felt her hair, similar to a Beagle Boys, noticing the white color out of her peripheral. 

Her clothing had changed as well. She wore heavy duty boots on her feet, shorts and a t-shirt she guessed, pulling at the fabric at her stomach. Thankfully she also had a pink jean jacket. They will help with keeping her a little warm if the temperature dropped tonight. The shorts might be a problem though. These legs seemed more susceptible to the cold than her old ones. 

When she gets her hands on that Doctor…

She didn’t have time to focus on her revenge. She needed to survive. All those years training and refining her skills would be put to the ultimate test now. Cracking her knuckles, the familiar feeling comforting her, she retakes her gun. She swings through the trees, quickly finding one taller than the rest with stable branches. 

She could see trees thickening on one side and thinning out on the other. That could mean a town of some sort. Dr. Gearloose’s mirror must have altered her appearance to fit in with the creatures of this world. Webby decided she could be thankful that the body was similar to her own, if only looking very grotesquely different. Her hips also felt weird, but she would figure that out later. 

Sticking to the upper branches of the trees, she makes her way towards the latter tree line. She kept a watchful eye on the sun in the sky, moving back to the ground when it became too unsafe to keep traveling through the trees. She tried to keep her survival mindset, but it became more difficult as the hours dragged on. 

She was alone again. She didn’t realize how much she took for granted the presence of her family around her. How much she truly relied on them, leaned on them, needed them. Seven years, and she may never see them again. 

She didn’t even have an idea of where to start in understanding the science Dr. Gearloose used to make that mirror. Her vast array of historical and magical knowledge would most likely not help her here. But, if Della could learn rocket science to get home to her boys, then she could learn experimental transdimensional science to get home to her boys. Right? 

Or her boy rather. She really wished she had told Dewey sooner now. Or was it better she never did? Him living knowing she loved him and she was lost in some new world, unable to be together (if he returned her feelings that is) sounded like a pain worse than rejection. 

Webby shakes the thoughts away, refocusing on the task at hand. She wasn’t lost forever and she would tell him. As soon as she saw him again, it would be the first thing she did. There she found a goal outside herself to focus on. 

Step one: Survive

Step two: Confess to Dewey that she loved him for the last two years. 

Webby deflated a little. Step two sounded way harder than step one. 

Looking up at the sky once more she couldn’t help the sadness that overtook her. She hoped they were ok. She Hoped Dewey was with Huey and Louie, and that they were safe. She selfishly hoped they got pulled in too and then she wouldn’t be alone. But she also hoped they were back in Duckburg, working on getting her home. 

Webby lowered herself to the ground as the treeline started to thin out, creeping to the edge, observing the village below. Or would it be called a town? Everything looked advanced as in Duckburg, at least on the basic level. There were cars and street lights. She could see shops and a park. The creatures that walked around were of all differing ages and appearances, but keeping with the same basic build. 

One head with a flat face, two arms, two legs all connected to a torso. They wore a variety of clothing, and every single one of them wore shoes. If Webby were being honest, that was the most annoying thing about this whole situation. They must have weak feet if they had to wear shoes everywhere. Why couldn’t it be a preference thing? 

Slowly the streets emptied and the sun set fully. She had to wait patiently for night fall, hopefully they weren’t nocturnal and she could do some up close and personal recon. Webby watched the sun dip below the horizon, and the moon rise into the sky. 

She hopped it wasn't the exact same moon. Dealing with a potential moon invasion on top of everything else was not on her to do list. 

With the moon high in the sky, Webby finally creeps her way into town. She sticks to the shadows, adding to her growing knowledge of her new surroundings. She could read the writings, she wasn't sure however if it was related to her changed appearance or if the people here actually wrote in and spoke English. 

With that she found a library. A careful look around the premise yielded no obvious security measures and was easily broken into. She smelled in the familiar paper and glue smell that she has always surrounded herself in. 

She then did what she did best, read. She pulled any book that could hold helpful information. 

The creatures here were called humans. They had a history similar to their own, almost parallel it seemed. Interesting. Thankfully, it seems their space travels have not yielded any signs of life (for now). They made advancements at the same speed they did as well as. Phones and television on the same level. They had Egyption, Greek, and Amazonian history. Heck even Atlantis was a mystery here. They had a Mt. Neverrest equivalent. Mt. Everest. 

The town itself wasn’t terribly old, but had a rich enough history. It hadn’t really expanded past its original size, and kept to a small population. That could be problematic to her ability to move freely. 

She puts back all the history books and moves onto the science section. Their organs and skeletal systems were different, even if holding the same basic functions. Their laws of physics however, it seemed, were far stricter than their own. That could also be a problem.

Slowly she noticed the brightening space in the library, and put everything back once again, quickly making her leave. She could probably walk among everyone safely, but a town this small she would be pegged as a new comer almost immediately. She should take more time to observe. 

It wasn’t until she reached the edge of the woods once more she felt and heard the rumbling from her stomach. She places a hand over her stomach, looking back fondly at the town. She has gained information on her surroundings, and still needed an established base of operations. 

Food would have to wait till tonight. She had gone longer without food before. She just had to conserve her energy properly, and gather what she could. Tonight she would read up on plant and animal life. Thank Selene for Libraries. 

She returned to the clearing she arrived at. It was far too open for her to use for a base, she will need something more hidden and comfortable for sleeping during the daytime hours. So she set off, looking for a water source and a tucked away sleeping hole. Her feet grew heavier, and her head was becoming muddled. She almost cried when she finally found a river. Looking around the area, she found a hidden alcove between some boulders. She practically threw herself to the ground, knowing she had to sleep while she could. 

When she woke, it was dusk. By the time she returned to the town, it would be well into the night. When back in town she scrounge around the restaurants, burying the guilt of her thievery in the name of survival. Whispering an apology to the owners of the food. If she was ever able to, she would make it up to them. 

She ate while she read, blowing through the small selection the library held, always careful to return the place to its state of being before her arrival. Taking her newfound knowledge of this world's edibles, easy to remember with the parallels in names and appearance, she made her way back to her boulder. She stopped at the clearing, deflating at its undisturbed state. 

And so continued her routine. She would sleep during the day, then gather food and check the clearing at some point of the day. She had exhausted the library's resources by day five. Webby knew she was doing well to survive right now, and figured day six would be best inspecting the clearing for any clues for her return. 

She had been so deep in thought staring at the sky, she hadn’t heard the group of people approaching her until it was too late for her to hide. She spun around, quickly observing the group of seven. She’s fought against worse odds. One of them stopped mid sentience, looking at her with an inquisitive look on his face. This wasn’t good. No one was supposed to ever see her. 

“Hey are you-” She leaps across the clearing, slamming her foot into his stomach before he can say another word. He grunts as he’s tossed a few feet back. 

“Dipper!” Three of the others shout out, a taller woman looking at her with fire in her eyes, that matches fiery red hair. 

“Oh it’s on” The woman cracks her knuckles, stepping closer to Webby. 

“Bring it” She replies, relaxing into a fighting stance, gesturing to her with the palm of her hand. Out of the corner of her eye she sees one of the other ones running at her, she pivots to face both threats head on. She takes in his appearance, noting his white hair and blue jacket. She expected to see anger but instead he has a huge smile on his face. 

“Webby?”

She falters, her heart beating wildly in her chest. She stares into his eyes, looking for the boy she knows who's stuck in there. “Dewey?” 

He nods, both of them quick to close the space between them. She holds him close, relaxing as his arms close around her. Webby opens her mouth, then closes it. She said the first thing she would tell him when she saw him again was I love you. But now, actually being faced with having to do it... She couldn’t. Coward. 

She pulls back from the hug, both of them taking in eachothers new appearances. He looked standard for a human, she wasn’t sure what they looked for in love interests, but to say she was not attracted to Dewey in this form was an understatement. She touched his nose, wrinkling her own in distaste at the loss of his bill and feathers. She had always liked how he would style his feathers. 

“Wow Webby you look..” He trails off, obviously trying to find the right word to describe her. “Hideous” 

“I know right!” She cries out in relief. Maybe he preferred her in her original body? She sure hoped so. 

“I mean-” He says with a chuckle.

“What is up with all of this?” She waves her hands around her face, then gestures to her legs. 

“Disgusting!” Dewey throws his hands into the air. Webby sees two others approach them, obviously Huey and Louie. 

“Guys! Oh I’m so glad you’re safe” 

“I can’t believe we found you so quickly” Huey gives her a quick hug, “You must have taken quite the fall. You are covered in dirt” She looks down at herself. She had been so focused on everything else, hygiene had been the last thing on her mind. Ew. 

Louie steps up, giving her a longer hug than Huey. “These guys are from the town. We got separated on an unplanned camping trip with mad doc, we are waiting it out until Scrooge can come get us” He whispers in her ear before pulling back. Leave it to Louie to have a believable cover story. 

“Well I don't know about you guys, but I am ready for a shower” She laughs, “I think that's enough camping for me for a while.”

She turns to the other four, giving them a small wave. “Hi, I’m Webby” She hunches her shoulders in embarrassment. Leave it to her for her fight instincts to take over instead of her diplomatic ones. She feels one of the boys grab her hand, giving it a squeeze. She squeezes back. 

The woman only grunts, still glaring at her. The other girl in the group steps forward, a pained look on her face. “Mabel.” She points to herself. “This is Wendy and Soos, and that is my brother Dipper”

Dipper had sense stood back up, holding his stomach and giving her an awed look. “That was an impressive kick, what are you a ninja?” 

Webby laughs awkwardly. “What no of course nod, psh, that would be silly” 

Louie only shakes his head at her, “You really don’t got that down.” He says it quietly enough for only those close to them to hear. Dewey and Huey snicker softly. 

“Sorry about that, kinda just reacted” She extends her free hand to Dipper. 

“No hard feelings” He shakes her hand before dropping it to point behind him. “We found Webby, so I think we can head back to town to plan some more” 

“Cool, let me just grab my jacket-” Webby turns only to jump back to the group when someone lets out a scream. Mabel is pointing at her and continuing to scream. Dipper massaged his temples, signing in relief when she finally stopped. 

“You have a grappling hook!?” 

“Uh yea, I do. Do you?” Webby smiles. 

“Heck yea! 

“Oh this is exciting, I have never meet another girl who also uses a grappling hook”

Dipper and Wendy exchange a look at that. Wendy tightens her arms across her chest, continuing her one person stare down with Webby. Dipper however looks at her like she is some new thing he has never seen before. 

“Use? Mabel just has her for fun really. Do you use yours on a regular basis?”

“Of course. You don’t?”

“What do you use it for?” Wendy is the one to ask the question this time, her words holding an edge. 

“Our family are adventurers. Webby uses the gun quite often” Huey answers for her, not understanding the peculiarity of Webby having said gun for practical use. 

“Adventures?”

“Yea old ruins and things like that” Dewey brags, puffing out his chest, “Only the most dangerous of course” Webby glances at him, and only then does she realize that he is in fact the one who has been holding her hand this entire time. Just like that, electricity shoots up her arm, the energy sending her heart into overdrive. The leftover sparks short circuit her brain. She can’t think ever again. She has died. 

“Of course..” Dipper repeats slowly, finally taking initiative to start the walk back, “You will have to tell us about it at dinner tonight” 

Louie comes up on her other side, her eyes haven’t left her and Dewey’s conjoined hands, but Louie breaks her out of her stupor by throwing her jacket over her head. 

“Come along love ducks, we don’t want to get left behind” He laughs while marching on ahead. Webby can feel her face warm at his teasing remark, avoiding looking at Dewey and keeping her jacket on her head for the moment. 

“Webby” Dewey whispers. 

“Yeah?”

“I really missed you, I don’t know what I would have done if I had never found you.” He continues to whisper. 

“Probably gotten another best friend eventually” 

“No one can replace you Webby, I-” He stutters, tightening his grip on her hand. 

“You what Dewey?” She can hear the blood in her ears and feel it in her cheeks. They had pulled a good ways away from the group, coming to a stop to only increase the distance. Louie and Huey turn back only to give them a thumbs up before ignoring them once again. 

“I love you” 

She stands there, repeating the words to herself over and over. She can feel her jacket slide off her head, looking into Dewey’s new face, into his familiar eyes, one of her biggest smiles yet takes over her face. 

“I love you” She squeals, jumping around excitedly. “I have loved you for two years, my best friend loves me back!” 

“I love you” He sings softly at her, spinning her around, grinning wildly at her laughs and unbridled joy. 

“I love you Dewey Duck” She sings back, “La la da” She gripped his hand, skipping along the trail, pulling him along with her. 

As they come over the hill, Louie and Huey are waiting for them, the other four up ahead, waiting for all of them to catch up. Huey and Louie smile at the both of them, clapping slowly. 

“About time! I’m so proud of you” Louie mocks them by wiping away an imaginary tear. “Bravo! Bravo!” He clapps even harder. 

“Who knew this is what had to happen for you guys to finally get together?” Huey smiles at them both. 

Webby runs to them, pulling them into a tight hug, “Oh you guys are the best, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Ok, ok. Leave the sappy stuff for Dewey” Louie grumbles in embarrassment. 

“Ignore him, we love you too Webby” 

She knows that, and she also knows she will neer be alone again. Dewey put an arm around her shoulder, joining in the group hug. It had been a rough couple of days, but now she wasn’t alone. She had accomplished task one and basically number two as well. They may no longer be in Duckburg, but at least they were together.

[archuve]

Fic Masterlist

I wrote a lot for the LWA 31 fics turns out and I thought it was best to make a master list of them! 

Dianakko Fics: 

Multi-Chap Fics: 

Sick Of Losing Soulmates (Incomplete) :  In a world where you can find out who your soul mate is with their final breath, it is reasonable why Diana grew up to be who she is now. (Soulmate Au)   A03   FF.Net 

Yellow Lillies and Violets (Complete) :  Flowers can mean many things. To Diana, it was the door that brought a girl called Akko to the small florist shop that she looked after for her cousin over the school break.(Flowers Au) A03 FF.Net

Tenerife Sea (Incomplete): Diana didn’t believe in mermaids. That all changed in one stormy night and split second decision that saved her life.  A03  FF.Net 

Kiss me~Drabble Collection (Incomplete Collection):  A collection of drabbles of kisses between Akko and Diana. Enough said. A03  FF.Net

One-Shot Fics: 

Comfort Against The Cold (Complete):  It’s been a year since Diana and Akko saved the magical world. On the night before the celebration, Diana finds Akko looking at the window in the cold. LWA Secret Santa present 2k18 A03  FF.Net 

A Winter Ball (Complete):  When knight Kagari heard about the winter ball she expected a lot of fun and maybe she could dance with the Queen, her friend and crush Diana, that was until she remembered she had a job to do. Thankfully she has a break.  A03  FF.Net

Closing The Distance (Complete):  After two years of a long distance relationship, Akko and Diana finally meet. A03  FF.Net  

A Pretty Theft (Complete):  “The person that makes the princess laugh gets her hand in marriage.” That along with another reason is why Princess Diana never laughed. However, in one fateful night in the flower garden, a girl called Akko Kagari decides to make it her mission to maker her laugh.   A03  FF.Net   Instincts (Complete):  Instinct is: 1-a natural or intuitive way of acting or thinking. 2- a natural propensity or skill of a specified kind. 3- The reason why Akko meet Diana.  A03  FF.Net

Small Bump (Complete):  Akko was pregnant with Diana's child. Key word: WAS... She isn't anymore...  A03  FF.Net

Hamanda Fics: 

Multi-Chap Fics:

Underneath Cracked Masks (Incomplete): Underneath a cracked mask a former bully is trying to do her best whilst her past haunts her every action. Underneath a cracked mask a wandering girl is trying to not let her past touch her ever again. Underneath their cracked masks comes a surprising romance that blooms in the most unexpected circumstances. That somehow started when they fake dated for a sister’s wedding. (Fake Dating Au) 

A03  FF.Net 

One-Shot Fics:

Spider-Amanda (Complete):  Amanda O'Neill is Spiderman and sometimes quiet nights holds the most interesting things as well as the scariest things.  A03  FF.Net

Laser Kisses (Complete): Amanda and her friends spends an hour in a laser tag match where they would be in two teams. Amanda, Jasminka, Barbara and Diana in one. Hannah, Sucy, Constance, Lotte and Akko in the other. Everyone in Hannah's team accepted that the other team is going to win because they have Amanda. Hannah doesn't believe that and sets out to distract her enough so that her team would win. A03  FF.Net

Hannah’s Nickname (Complete):  Hannah England is in big denial about her crush on Amanda O'Neill.  A03  FF.Net

Fool (Complete):  A soft Hamanda drabble set in the scenario where Hannah wakes up in the middle of the night and then goes back to sleep, enough said tbh. A03  FF.Net

Morning Moments (Complete):  It’s too early for Amanda to be awake but it was never too early for her to be so softly in love. A03  FF.Net

Love is not blind, it’s in denial (Complete):  Hannah England is in big denial about her crush on Amanda O'Neill. A03  FF.Net

Raindrops (Complete):  It is unfortunate that Hannah got stuck in the rain, however, it's a good thing that Amanda was near by much to her dismay.  A03  FF.Net

Our Story (Complete): A short little story about Hannah and Amanda being gay and following the prompt: They write stories about people like us  A03  FF.Net

You’re A Distraction And I Became A Hazard To My Friend’s Health (Complete): Inspired by an true useless gay story, Hannah is a newly awakened bi and doesn’t fully know how to behave properly when there is a pretty girl dancing near her in the arcade. A03  FF.Net

Charoix Fics: 

Multi-Chap Fics: 

In Search Of Food (Incomplete):  Akko, daughter of Chariot Du Nord decided to embark on a quest without her mother’s permission; A girlfriend for her mum. (Charoix) A03  FF.Net

All is Fair in Love and Humanities (Incomplete): Croix loves history, loves teaching it too. Now if only her rival teacher Chariot stopped stealing her potential gcse students every year thus causing her to continue this 'War of the humanities' they have then life would be great. (Alternatively: Charoix modern teacher au of pure indulgence with history vs geography rivalry with a plot???) A03  FF.Net

One-Shots: 

Amulets (Complete): Five times Chariot had talked about amulets, one time it actually worked.  A03  FF.Net

A Christmas Exchange (Complete): Chariot visits Croix in her prison for Christmas, gifts and kisses are exchanged.  A03  FF.Net

Starry eyes and Galaxy Minds (Complete): They say when you look into the stars, you’re looking back in time. For Croix that saying sings true for her, every time she looks up at the sky now she doesn’t see stars but memories all littered across the night sky. Of when they were children, friends and now lovers. Hopefully, she’ll manage to join the dots tonight to the constellation of making Chariot her wife. A03  FF.Net

Just Hurry Up and Feed Me (Complete): In her tired hungry state Croix forgets that she left a small request on her order and it bites her back in the butt when the pretty delivery girl delivers it. (Modern Au! Pizza delivery girl!Chariot)   A03  FF.Net

Different  (Complete): When Croix was young, she was warned of these monsters that lurk in the woods. Creatures whose laughter was poison to their ears, creatures whose hair was woven with threads of gold, whose soft singing voices could kill the toughest of her dragonic kind and enslave them to be training dummies for their potential mates. From then on she feared and detested the monsters known as ‘Princesses’ but surely...Chariot wasn’t the same….right? (Lwa Secret Santa fic) A03  FF.Net

I knew you once (Complete): Under the moonlight when a certain event passes, Chariot thinks of three things: her luminous green eyes, the lavender mess of hair and how they changed from friends, lovers to strangers. (Written before Airing of Episode 14)  A03  FF.Net

Rare Pairs and Other Fics: 

Multi-Chap Fics:

Little Prompt Academia (Incomplete):  A collection of prompt based drabbles that I did for little witch academia. Most will be taken from my tumblr though it will be edited and possibly expanded on though some could just appear cause I wrote it for fun.  A03  FF.Net

Your Heart’s Desire (Complete):  Hannah has been having some confusing feelings toward her best friend Barbara and goes to Diana for help, however things don’t go as planned and now Hannah is chasing her own heart before it reaches it’s own desires. Hannah X Barbara  A03  FF.Net

One Shot Fics: 

Kilig (Complete):  The tagalog word kilig refers to the feeling of excitement due to various romantic situations. There is no exact equivalent English term for kilig. Akko X Sucy  A03  FF.Net

[klayr-de-gall]

For the ask game! 👎 💔 💢 🌹 👀

Hey anon!Thank you so much for the asks!

Ship that you can never see happening: 👎

That’s a hard one, cause there are a few throughout my fandoms that I really are not hyped about. (Of course without any judgment, cause I’m a firm believer of “ship and let ship”

Let’s do the three fandoms that come to mind

Stranger Things: Bopper (Just not for me, it has the same taste as the thing with Karen), Everything with Tommy (He is just a useful tool as an asshole while writing storys, sorry XD)

Pacific Rim: Newt/Herman (I get why people ship them. I just don’t care much for both of them)

Star Trek: Everything with Bones. (Don’t get me wrong, I love that guy, just not as a romantic interest XD)

Ship that makes you sad: 💔 

I really wanted to replay with one of my RP-crack-ships, but I feel that everyone would lose all respect for me then XD

Generally I don’t read that much angst, because I want to ignore canon and don’t be sad, you know?  But thinking about it Steve/Billy and Raleigh/Chuck are probably close for first place. If you look at the redemption-through-dead arc, Billy and Chuck are not that different, I would say.

Ship that is most misunderstood: 💢 

Hm, every ship has it’s haters. (Even while I thankfully never had some unpleasant encounters) I don’t really have a ship for this question. I’m a pretty boring shipper, I’d say XD

My little guilty pleasure where I always wished there would be more fic was Yancy/Herc (Pacific Rim)

Ship that you have as an OTP: 🌹 

Let’s be obviouse here and say it: Harringrove! (what a suprise)

I don’t chip OTPs that often and never truly let go of them, so there is not thaaat many to choose from anyway. (It’s funny how my A03 History is a pretty good pointer to when I started shipping what XD)

Ship you’re curious about: 👀

I’m not really into much new stuff this days. Harringrove caters to all my needs XD Maybe Fem!Harringrove? Maybe.

Thanks again! That was fun!

[Controversal shipping ask]

[flowerfan2]

Bound To Be Together - Ch. 16

McDanno, M, A03

A continuous story of Season 9 codas exploring the bond between Steve and Danny as they grow even closer.

Chapter 16: 9.16

Adam plies them with cocktails when they arrive at his house for dinner, and by the time they’re at the table, Danny’s had two rather strong margaritas and is into his second beer. The mood is effervescent, the team is all together, and everyone is glad to see how happy Adam is with his new place.

 Danny had brought Adam a set of little painted bowls as a housewarming gift (they’re for olive oil, but really, could be used for anything), and of course Steve insisted that they were from them both.  Danny hadn’t minded.  In fact, he was pleased.  More than pleased.

 Things have been good lately, he thinks.  It has been a rough few months, with Joe’s death and Steve’s reaction to it throwing their relationship into question, and then Danny’s stupid inability to shut down his feelings for Rachel upsetting Steve.  Thankfully after the storm they had a good if completely terrifying talk, and Danny thinks they are now on solid ground.

 Of course, the under-the-table blow job didn’t hurt anything, but the rest of that day was good, too, and it felt like they could finally relax and enjoy being together. They had cleaned up, showered (separately - but that was a question for another day, Steve was oddly reluctant to take a shower together and Danny hadn’t the slightest idea why), and then lazed about all afternoon, watching hockey and then some documentary about naval history that quickly segued into making out on the couch.

 Despite a few thorny cases over the past week, they had managed to grab time alone, for just the two of them.  Danny is beginning to understand Steve’s rhythms in a way he hadn’t before, even given all the time they spent together over the years.  After an emotional moment like their talk about Rachel, Steve needs reassurance.  Danny’s been trying to do his best to give it to him, and Steve seems to like the attention. He hasn’t said no to Danny once this week, taking him up on every offer to grab a pizza after work or head down to the gym when they have some down time.

 At Adam’s tonight, walking around his new apartment and admiring the work he’s put into getting it set up, Steve is all smiles and sweet looks.  When Danny points out the photos of Adam with the team, and teases Steve about how he’s wearing the same navy polo shirt in all of them, Steve just winks at Danny and shrugs.  “At least my casual wear extends to more than just black t-shirts,” he says, running an accusing finger down Danny’s chest.

 “You said you like me in these,” Danny says, the words falling out of his mouth before he can stop himself.  That is absolutely not why he’s taken to wearing these shirts so often, it’s not.

 Steve leans in, turning Danny with his body as if to show him another photo on the wall, but his lips brush Danny’s ear.  “I do, Danno. I do.”  Steve sits his chin on Danny’s shoulder, practically hugging him from behind, and Danny has to will his body not to react in an all too inappropriate way.  

 At dinner, everyone’s good mood continues, Steve’s included.   Steve’s sitting at the head of the table (Danny can almost hear Kono calling him “boss-man” – he misses her like crazy) and teasing Tani about mermaid camp, making her blush and then sit up straight and defend her love for all things Ariel.  

 “You know, those songs just wind their way into your heart, you can’t help it,” Tani explains.  She turns to Danny, insistent.  “You must have watched that movie with Grace, right?  ‘Part of your world?’ ‘Under the sea?’  The animation is fabulous – who can resist that scene with all the different fish begging Prince Eric to kiss the girl?”

 “You had a thing for Prince Eric, is that what you’re saying?”  Steve prompts.  

 “He was clueless, but totally dreamy – right, Noelani?”  Tani looks across the table for help, but Noelani just laughs and shakes her head.

 “Sorry, I was more of a Beauty and the Beast fan.  Although I think was more in it for Belle.”

 Tani pouts and Danny bumps her shoulder.  “Don’t worry, Tani, I’m with you on Prince Eric,” Danny says, glancing at Steve out of the corner of his eye to see if he’s listening.  He is.  “He was oblivious, but charming.  And he figured it out in the end.”

 Tani beams.  “Right?”

 Danny feels Steve’s foot twine with his under the table, and he flashes him a smile.  He’s sure Steve has caught his meaning, especially when he leans close and says, “you saying I’m too shy, Danno?”  Steve curls his voice around the words of the song, giving them a decidedly more sensuous tone than in the Disney classic.

 Adam gets up from the table, and Tani turns to Junior, quizzing him on her favorite childhood movies. It’s abysmal, but Junior’s lack of knowledge of all things princess is making Tani cackle, and Junior’s grin reveals that he doesn’t particularly mind.

 There’s another nudge at Danny’s ankle and Danny presses back, starting up their game of footsie again.

 “You are such a goof,” he says, grinning at Steve.

 “Am not.”  Steve ducks his head and nips at Danny’s hand as it waves in his general direction.  “See. I did it.”

 “Did what?”  Danny asks.

 “Go on and kiss the girl,” Steve half-sings under his breath.

 “I’m not a girl.” Danny leans close and whispers in Steve’s ear.  “And if that was a kiss, I’m definitely throwing you over for Prince Eric.”

 “You moved your hand, it’s not my fault.”

 “Like a moving target’s ever been a problem for you.”

 “I promise to hit my mark next time,” Steve says, but his attempt at sexy is derailed by the laugh that he’s trying hard to stifle.  

 Danny shakes his head. “See.  A goof.”

 There’s a strangled noise from Noelani, who is looking at Steve and Danny with an expression of gleeful discovery.  

 “What?”  Steve demands, making his very best “I am simply amused and entirely not at all concerned about what just happened” face.

 “Nothing,” Noelani stammers out.  “Nothing.”

 “Oh, are they flirting again?”  Tani asks, turning back to their end of the table.  “It’s pretty much a constant.  You get used to it.”

 Danny feels his face flush, although considering how much alcohol he’s consumed tonight it probably doesn’t even show.  

 “What, I can’t show my partner some love?”  Steve asks, beaming at Danny.  Danny can feel Steve’s fingers brushing his thigh under the table.  He’s halfway convinced that Steve is about to lay one on him for real, come out to the whole team without any warning or discussion, when Adam interrupts and starts talking to the group about ‘ohana and how much they all mean to him.

 He’s not sure if they’ve been saved by the bell or thrown under the bus, but he catches Noelani eyeing him thoughtfully during Adam’s speech.

 At some point, they’re going to have to talk about coming out – who to tell, if anyone, and when. Or at least confirm that they’re on the same page, even if that page is a little blurry.  

 Danny wraps his foot back around Steve’s ankle, and Steve shoots a fond look in his direction.

 The moment is interrupted by Tani elbowing Danny and passing him the dessert Lou brought over, a guava chiffon cake with rose colored glaze.   Danny serves himself and passes the plate to Steve, who declines, but then announces that he and Danny are sharing.

 Danny rolls his eyes, about to protest, but then Steve scoops up a forkful of cake from Danny’s plate and holds it up against Danny’s lips.  Danny sticks out his tongue and licks at the cake, hoping for a reaction from Steve.  He thinks he’s successful, as Steve starts to babble about how this bakery makes the best chiffon cake on the island and he has been meaning to find the recipe for Danny. “Maybe after you butter my pancakes you can make me a cake,” Steve says under his breath.

 Danny isn’t aware that “make me a cake” is a euphemism for anything, and they haven’t quite reached the pancake buttering stage in their sexy-times, but he files the request away for later discussion and focuses on the fork Steve is waving under his nose.

 After Danny finally relents and eats the bite of cake, Steve smirks, then reaches over and wipes a dot of red glaze off Danny’s mouth.  Holding Danny’s gaze, Steve sucks his finger clean.

 Danny can’t find it in himself to care if Noelani is watching them again.  He’s having too much goddamn fun.

[chaoticneutralwriter]

Fic Recs/Writers *updated 09/12/2019

THE LIBRARY IS OPEN DARLING....for some actual reading.

A list of fics/writers I’ve come across that got some of that pretty sweet stuff. And also because I’ve read around too much and can’t remember names or fics to save my life. THE UPDATES MAN!

Warning: Some fics (as will be indicated) are +18/rated M for Mature/take me to church kinda deal

@versigny

I’d say almost all of their stuff is worth a read (whoever your bias may be, they got stories on them), but my personal faves are their vampire au series, some +18 stuff there but majority of the stories are oneshots and drabbles

@honeyedhoseok (I think now @tawnytaehyung)

I’m sure everything they wrote is worth a read from what I’ve read thus far but because of that, I can really only recommend the three fics I actually read.

Series: Besitos (ta!Jimin) rated M for recent developments hoho~

Bruh why is this not reality? Why don’t we get really hot TAs to crush on? It would’ve made my school life hella easier and I’d get that perfect attendance. Jimin is your hottie creative writing TA who you can’t help but crush on (but can anyone blame you) and envious to all, he likes you back too. College au shenanigans, teacher/student dynamic, and dorky wingman ta!Taehyung friend.

Oneshot/drabbles (Crossroad demon!Jimin): Crossroads + Hunted + Captured Part One *NEW + Captured Part Two *NEW

I’d sell my soul to satan if he looks like bs&t!Jimin. You basically make a deal with crossroad demon!Jimin and can’t help but actually grow fond of the supposed devious, soul eating creature of hell.

Series: The Black Book (CEO!Hoseok) rated M

My heart can’t take the drama but it’s still a really good read. CEO!Hoseok may be young and rich but he definitely has some questionable methods of relieving stress, one that you’re all too aware of which makes things super awkward cuz you in love with the man. Does CEO!Hoseok eventually change thanks to you or do old habits die hard and just leave you in a world of hurt? Again if it’s Hoseok he can be the biggest jerkface and I’d still be charmed.

@dovechim

Shorts/Drabbles: the ocean (mermaid!Jimin) + drabble

Because goddammit mermaid!Jimin is cute okay??! (and I love me a good supernatural au of any sort) You’re a ballet dancer going to Busan Arts and stumble upon Jimin chillin’ in the water by the beach. You mistake him as fellow peer but hey he shows up to your class anyways (totally rocks the dance thing) but then as time passes, you find that something is quite...fishy about him.

Series: It’s okay, that’s love (splitpersonality!Jimin)

No not the drama. Okay so a shrink is still involved and that’s played by you and you’ve got water polo player!Jimin who has split personality disorder (he’s scary when he’s angry...) as your patient, except he doesn’t know about this ‘other self’ of his. As if feelings aren’t already making things complicated, imagine accidentally finding yourself rooming with him (along with your other favourite boys).

@hobibliophile

Okay so I might’ve read all of their Jimin stuff and yes. All yes (warning: they’re +18 stuff soooo)

The only other fic I’ve read from them is Ambrosia (M) starring Fallen Angel!Hoseok....I like supernatural au fics alright. Fallen angel or not, Hobi is still super sweet and since this is a series, we don’t know what the reason was and MAJOR CLIFFHANGER!

@jimlingss

Series: Beyond Reach (ghost!Hoseok) ft. Reaper!Namjoon and other ghosties

This shit made me nearly cry five times....FIVE TIMES. I say nearly because I don’t like crying so it took literally all my willpower to not (ended up with a runny nose though). ANGST AS SHIT. Has some triggering stuff involving death so be warned. It’s a good read though....BUT SAD AS HELL (at least it’s completed :’))

One Shot: Head Over Heels to Hell (reverse soulmate!AU, Childhood Friends to Enemies to Lovers! Hoseok x reader)

Oh yes, this was a WILD RIDE. Goddamn it’s like you hate the man but then in the end that shit got me emotional for some reason like djgskh good shit good shit (you have gone through multiple different lives meeting Hoseok, all of which he screws you over somehow but in the end of it all... perhaps things could still work out??)

Series: The Deli Diaries (produce! Jimin x Deli worker!you) fluff, slow-burn

Holy shit this is cute af. It’s so mundane (guess that’s a fair warning??) but just reading the way the relationship develops is just....ahh!!! I want my own cute Jimin who pines after my dumbass TAT

Series: Jungle Park (Workplace Romance AU, Lawyer! Hoseok x New HR Manager!Reader) fluff, slow-burn, slice of life, a little angst **NEW

A long series for those of you who love to read chapter fics! Oh my God this was a thrilling ride of emotions! The pacing is amazing, each chapter you’re hooked on wanting to see more development on the history between these two so it’s worth a read! I love how Hoseok is portrayed here; it’s like a piece of how he would be in real life is put into just another scenario (Also hate how reader is like... relatable in a way where I also majored in HR so...WHERE’S THE OFFICE ROMANCE LIFE TRAIN GONNA HIT ME WITH THAT??)

Three Shot: Magic & Mysteries (Familiar/Hybrid!Jimin x Witch! Reader) fluff, a little angsty, comedy, romance **NEW

A three shot series involving what the title says! Magic! It’s a little adventure tale of our reader who’s a witch struggling to find her place in terms of specialty and overcoming some fears and insecurities with the help of sassy (but secretly cares a lot) Jimin who’s a wizard cursed to be a dog (that looks like Chimmy!) It’s cute and pretty wholesome in my opinion :)

Also an honorable mention from them is the Service Series (it’s fluffier dw) and honestly their other fics are definitely worth a read :D

@7cypher

Oneshot: Devil’s Advocate (devil/demon!Jimin)

Ironic how despite being a devil Jimin is still the sweetest being to exist. Devil!Jimin walks into your life abruptly and worms his way into your heart with his devilishly good looks and sweet charms. It’s hella cute, a slightly angsty ‘defining’ moment that actually had me tearing up a bit??? (I’m a sap for sweet, tender affection like the ones that happened in here okay??) but it all ends well :)

@seokkbuns

I’ve read most of their Hoseok and Jimin stuff but I think all of their fics are worth a read!

@boymeetsweevil

Oneshot: Cover You In Constellations (Hoseok x reader fic)

I’ve read this a while ago but keep coming back to it because oh god this was cute, so domestic and so fluffy like this is the kinda shit I would pull if I had a boyfriend like Hoseok like skdjfskgha. I like the way writer portrays Hoseok because it feels so like what I imagine he would react. Hoseok deserves all the love ;_;

@kittentaegu

Series: My Boss, The Vampire (Vamp!Jimin x reader fic)

Two parts are out so far and I’m loving the premise! New office worker with notoriously hot CEO Park Jimin who has a secret to hide (guess what it is). One day, you find out what it is and so now what?? Things get steamy ;D Also, the title of it is so K-dramaesque and I don’t know! I like the charm it adds to it!

@readyplayerhobi **NEW

Honestly all of their fics are worth a read because they flawlessly combine story building with any kind of genre you can think of. Some are smutty, some of fluffy and some are just downright angsty but you just want to read them all regardless!

@yminie **NEW

Series: Nine-One-One (Detective!Jimin x First Responder! Reader) fluff, angst, romance, old flame au, future smut, and other mature themes!

This is thrilling! In both romantic and story aspects! The base story line is that there’s a serial murderer on the loose who’s been stalking reader and Jimin and his team are on the case about it. They’ve both got romantic history with each other and as old feelings resurfaces, so does the situation as things hit a little too close to home. Obviously with serial murderers involved, there is mentions of death, suicide and well...the warnings there!

A03 Fics

*will be pretty rare on this list; am I the only one who finds it super hard to find good fics on there?

Author: kimtrain

I swear they had a tumblr before since that’s the only reason why I remember them and their fics. Thankfully they’re all there still and all of them are 👌👌👌 Mermaid!Hoseok AU and the Hybrid!AU are my faves.

Fic: Warm Blood by ARMY_BRAT

The one instance where my weakness for supernatural AUs + wanting to read something paid off. MC is an ARMY but also a grim reaper so what happens when BTS shows up on her list, destined to die? Well, she says NOT TODAY but that just throws EVERYTHING out of the loop, leaving her to fix it.

Went into it with a grain of salt (ngl description was...ehh) BUT was pleasantly surprised! Digging the writing style which made MC really likeable so far and the AU strongly reminds me of Goblin: The Lonely God but focusing more on the grim reaper side of things which, personally, I was WAY more interested in even with the drama so yay! :D Glad someone took inspiration from it. Still ongoing and fairly new so dsfajdkas

Fic: Three Pints Full by Valkook **NEW

Woah it’s a vampire/supernatural fic! A little on the mature side because there’s well...blood...a little bit of death mentioned...and smut... BUT a really compelling story! Set mainly as a Cop/Detective! Reader who’s been assigned to solving some mysterious deaths/murders happening in the wild parts Montana joined in with appearances by Hunter/Tracker!Yoongi, Partner!Hoseok and Vampire!Jimin, Jungkook and more!

[ellawritesficssometimes]

Fic Recommendations!

 It’s a new year, which means a fresh chance to start suffocating some amazing authors with your support <3

Cross my Heart and Hope to Die by Reneia: Factor in the fact that the man was quite literally immortal and would spring back from death as easily as a gymnast from a hard fall- it was perfect. The personification of Northern Italy could be his personal spy.

A gripping, historical WW2 GerIta piece with accurate characterization. Lots of conflict and well-developed character insights. The author also did an incredible job at situating the tense political ambience of the setting.

You can find the fic on FF.net or A03. Find them on tumblr @analyze-a-nation

Author Recommendation: Mandelene

Anon’s recommendation, United Fools of America: America has never settled for the world as it is. A battle for acceptance and strength will face her as she juggles the problems of a nation. She'll have to win the world's respect while spitting on Old World social norms, fighting not only for her freedom, but for the rights of the oppressed masses that will stumble upon her shores. (American History as told by Female America).

Literally, any of their works are worth the read. They have a way of building the emotions in such a discreet, nuanced manner that it catches up to you all at once. If you love FACE, THIS is your author to go to. Their characterization of England in particular is impeccable.

Ella’s recommendation, Child’s Play: Alfred isn't sick. He just sees the world differently, but there will always be those who don't understand. Thankfully, he has two parents that do.

You can find them on FF.net and on on tumblr @mandelene 

[evieebun125]

A03 link if you prefer:

http://archiveofourown.org/works/9312947/chapters/24042915

What a wonderful timeline

Underfell Sans/Asgore

Words: 951

4/?

The King was smiling at him with a soft goofy smile, but he has still not answered Sans question. Sans took a deep breath, and exhaled it slowly.

The King was smiling at him with a soft goofy smile, but he has still not answered Sans question. Sans took a deep breath, and exhaled it slowly.

He tried asking again, it came out much clear,” Your Majesty, why am I here?”

Asgore’s expression softened further, “Sans my friend, I have known you for a very long time. You do not take care of yourself, you never have. Therefore I cannot expect you to start taking care of yourself now. So I have made it simple for you”

He let out a quiet sigh, he stood and sat next to Sans, the bed sinking under his greater weight causing Sans to slide closer to the King.

“I have already spoken to your brother about you staying here for a week or so, it should be plenty of time for you to get your health back up.”

Sans struggled not to fall into the dip the King had created, hearing that the King planned on keeping him for a week or more caused him to lose his concentration. With his grip lost he slide and smacked into the King’s side.

Asgore laughed, it rumbled from his chest, and Sans could feel it as well as hear it. Asgore slowly stood up and turned toward him still holding his soft smile in place.

“Now that that is out of the way, perhaps you would like to join me for dinner?” He held out his furry hand to Sans.

He didn’t know how to respond, his top boss had just forcible given him a vacation from his life, garneted for a whole week. He knew that his life would be hellish when he got back from this little vacation, but it felt….nice, new.

He needed a little bit of ‘new’ in his fucked up life.

He took the outstretched hand, he was even able to let out a chuckle when his small hand was swallowed in his enormous grip.

“S-sounds great, I could uh use some grub” He stuttered out as the Kings other arm wrapped around Sans’s waist and picked him up.

“Wonderful, I was thinking about making potato soup, what do you think my friend?” Asgore asked as he carried Sans down the hall from his room to his dining room.

“uh s-sure your Majesty, s-sounds good.” He stuttered out, his stomach growled at the thought of hot and cheesy potato soup. It occurred to him that the King was saying Dinner, it had been morning time when the King had visited Snowdin. It was out for hours, he couldn’t remember the last time he had slept so long undisturbed.

“Sans my friend, you are in my home, please, call me Asgore” He said with a gentle tone. Asgore set Sans down with care, attempting not to jar San’s injured ankle.

“um t-thanks uh A-Asgore” Sans said softly, looking down at his lap, feeling awkward. They had been friends for so very long, he wasn’t sure why it felt weird to say his name.

“Alrighty then” Asgore said with a big grin,” let us make some soup.”

Sans watched as the large man bustled around in the kitchen, he heard potatoes being cut and chopped up, he heard milk being pour and then as the smell began to seep into the room Sans non-existent stomach being to growl.

Sans flushed with shame, he should be used to his poor diet by now. In order to distract himself from his grumbling stomach he looked around Asgore living room.

Not that there was much to look at. The walls and floor were a pale white, the walls were scarcely decorated with photo frames of drawings and smiling children. He could have sworn he saw one of a baby Undyne in there but he couldn’t be sure until he got closer.

He wasn’t that curious.

Looking around some more he saw the big soft armchair he knew belonged to Toriel, not that he’d let anyone in on that he knew. The fireplace behind the armchair was lit with a soft flame. It illuminated the bookcase a couple of feet away from it, though the shelves were filled with history and children’s books, he lost interest quickly.

Thankfully he didn’t have to wait too much longer when Asgore came strolling out of the kitchen with a huge pot of steaming soup.

He set it gently on the table and went back to the kitchen for bowls and silverware. Less than five minutes later the table was set for two, with their bowls filled to the brim with hot delicious soup.

Sans hated to admit it but soup was one of his favorite foods. His teeth had been artificially made into the sharp points that they now were. Every bite he had to force his jaw to make because him pain, even though it was one he was used too.

Soup though, he never had to hurt his mouth, he didn’t have to feel pain, instead he could sip it at his leisure and pleasure.

It didn’t take long before Sans had a second, then a third bowl of soup. In the end he was stuffed and the King was chuckling softly, “I see you enjoy yourself my friend, I do not believe I have ever had the pleasure to see you eat so much”

Sans let out a content sigh, “Yeah well I slept for a whole day, whad’ya expect?” Asgore burst out laughing deep and loud, it filled the small house and left Sans with a dusting of red to mar his cheeks.

At this rate Sans was afraid the blush would be permanent, he didn’t think it was that bad of a fate.

[welcometocaritas]

chapter 5 is up!

Title: The Ghosts of What Happened

Characters: Marina Andrieski, Julia Wicker

Pairing: Julia/Marina

Fandom: The Magicians, Hannibal

Format: Multi-Chap

Summary:  

Reynard’s gone. It’s the first thing she notices when they pop back into Marina’s apartment. The next is the body. Marina, sprawled unceremoniously in the center of the carpet, eyes closed, lips parted with blood.

links: A03, FF.Net

A/N: Well look at me - sick again! I need a new body. Who wants to trade? I will hug them. So yeah this chapter is pretty much just filler. I swear there’s a plot to this story, it’s just . . . Going to take a while to get there. Sorry! I mean, for the most part it’s a recovery/character development fic. But there will be plot! And world building, and delving into Julia and Marina’s past.

Anyway, hope you enjoy. And for those of you who review, thankyou thankyou thankyou so much! This would not be possible without you. Seriously, my anxiety and lack of motivation would eat me.

"You could classify the avoider mentality as a large amount of defences rolled into one complex milieu of mechanisms to prevent any further trauma. The "I don't need you or want you" mentality isolates you from your own feelings and those of others. You live on the periphery of relationships, seeing others only as a means to an end. The abandonments from the past hurt too much that you can't sustain anything further. Why open up. There's no point. There are too many negative possibilities.

The crux of it is that there is an inability to love – both to feel it and to give it. It is not necessary that both are felt, or to the same degree, but one of the two is present . . . Avoiders believe that they can handle things themselves and shouldn 't rely on anyone else, especially in hard times when support is needed. They believe that they should just suck up the pain and work through it themselves. . ."

- The Avoider Mentality and the Fear of Intimacy by Noam Lightstone

-

"People spend entire lifetimes trying to avoid the things that have already happened."

― Silvia Hartmann

. . .

when Marina next wakes up, there is an arm around her and she is pulled tight to somebody's chest. The knowledge alarms her and she stiffens, instantly going into panic mode. She has the spell at the back of her mind, the hand movements memorized, all she has to do is-

There's a low murmur behind her, indecipherable but familiar still, and she lets go of the breath she's been holding.

Julia.

She's in Julia's bed and it is Julia's arm around her, her breast she's pressed up against-

her hand that Marina clutches in her own.

Fuck.

She can't remember the last time she was was held by another human being, especially like this - let them fill the space at her back, wrap their arm around her, hold her in place . . .

Marina flinches.

She's standing in a kitchen not her own, and Hannibal's arms are around her, gentle, trapping, his knife cutting into her throat . . .

She shakes her head, dispelling the image.

She isn't there. She's here, in New York. In a woman named Julia Wicker's apartment. In her bedroom. In her bed. In her arms.

He would never find her here.

Relaxing some as she repeats this mantra in her head, she slowly becomes aware of another dilemma. Namely, what's led to her being cocooned in Julia's arms. The events of last night. The nightmare. The subsequent panic attack. Julia there, calm, reassuring, caring. Reaching out for some reason and trying to help.

Marina shakes her head. She'll think on that later.

Right now she has to weigh up the pros and cons of erasing Julia's entire memory of the event. Or escaping the apartment and hopping a flight to Mexico before she can wake up.

Alright. That last one is ridiculous.

Or not. Mexico might be the place now that Raynard has literally - she cringe - tasted her blood.

She sighs, spare hand reaching up to massage her brow. This is such a gigantic fucking shit storm. What the fuck is she supposed to do now?

Sleep.

Sleep and pretend that none of this happened. That she's back in her apartment, resting after a long night of research, Cupcake curled up beside her, wards raised and ready . . .

Safe.

Safer, rather.

Safer.

. . .

When Julia wakes up, the first thing she realizes is that it wasn't a fluke. 'It' being yesterday morning's unexpected development. Just like then, she wakes to find that she is now closer to Marina than she will ever have need or want to be. Their hands are still joined together, loosely clasped, only at some point this has been used to pull Julia across, draw her over until she's all but on top of the other woman. Her nose is buried in the back of Marina's neck, her scent filtering every inhale, sweaty skin sticking to her cheek.

She freezes. The close proximity stills her heart, urges it to race not a moment later. It takes everything in her not to push away, to escape the cloying presence of another. Reality needs time to catch up, to reassure her with irrefutable proof that this body pressed against hers is not a threat, is not him.

She hones in on the smell of peppermint, the familiar, stale mask of cigarette smoke, and coconut conditioner - her own brand, Marina must have used it last night. The suffocating tang of copper is absent and she relaxes, just a bit.

Safe.

Thankfully, Marina appears to be asleep still, breaths steady as her stomach rises and falls under their hands. It's almost peaceful, closing her eyes and listening to the sound, feeling the reassuring motion. She gives herself a moment to be selfish, just one. To pretend that she's still asleep and disappear into the hazy comfort of this embrace. She knows as soon as she rises, life will make itself known again with all its horrors and complications.

But this is nice. Being close to someone. Without fear or disgust. Losing herself in this reassuring tangibility. She can almost forget where she is and who she's with. Almost forget what happened.

Almost feel human again.

It can't last.

She doesn't want to be like this when Marina wakes up. She suspects having a panic attack in front of someone and proceeding to cuddle with that same person afterwords might be a little too much for her.

Likely there would be shouting involved. Maybe broken objects. Elevated risk of bodily harm.

Best just to avoid that all together.

So with (far too much) regret, she forces herself to rise, disentangling from the other hedge with overcautious precision. Marina sleeps on and though she can't see her face, she seems serene enough. A welcome change from last night.

Julia's still not sure what to make of that. Seeing Marina, strong, self-assured Marina, come apart like that was . . . unnerving at best. She's not sure what to do with it, this newfound knowledge, this rare glimpse past the walls she stopped wanting to climb. Does she bring it up? Ask her if she's okay? Offer to talk about it?

Somehow, she can't see that going down well.

So just leave it then. Pretend it never happened?

Something about that doesn't sit quite right either - maybe because she can still hear tormented sobs in her memory - but then neither of the options really have appeal. She feels like she should do something to help, something more. But she doesn't know what help is in this situation.

What help Marina might want. What help she needs but might not want.

And then there's the confusion of wanting to help, given their history, hell given everything. Julia isn't exactly in the best space for helping anyone at the moment. All she wants to focus on is Reynard. Finding him and destroying him. Anything outside of that is negligible, has to be.

And yet here this is, nagging at her, spurning her apathy.

Sighing, she checks on Marina one last time. Still sleeping.

Julia's eyes narrow.

The red patches from last night that cover her neck have darkened to a grotesque palate of mold and purple. Some have the chilling impression of fingerprints. She can picture Reynard's calloused hands - so warm, so gentle once - wrapping around the delicate throat. The burn of their squeeze, nails digging in, air cutting off. The desperation for breath, terror as the grip only constricted and darkness edged its way in.

He would have gotten off on the power of it. Holding someone down, controlling their very life with just just the tightening and loosening of his hands. Those same hands that had clenched in her hair, scalp tearing-

Julia's stomach flips and she raises a hand to her mouth to keep back the bile. Another twist and she's running for the toilet, ignoring Marina's startled breath as she wakes.

So it's going to be one of those days.

. . .

"Survivors of complex trauma learn that people are not a source of comfort and that they are safer when they are alone. This is learnt during the aftermath of abuse episodes, when the survivor was alone and momentarily safe. The sense of relief and safety experienced when alone can become conditioned wherein the default setting in the presence of stressful or aversive experiences is to withdraw and be alone. Thus, rather than reach out for help and support, survivors are more likely to hide away, withdraw and become invisible. Survivors quickly learn that being visible can prompt further abuse, while being invisible can keep them safe. This dichotomy of visibility versus invisibility is a common feature in survivors of complex trauma who yearn to be seen yet need to hide to feel safe."

- Counselling Skills for Working with Trauma - Healing From Child Sexual Abuse, Sexual Violence and Domestic Abuse by Christiane Sanderson

. . .

She's woken by the sound of stampeding feet and the smack of a toilet lid. Then puking. Lots of puking.

Groaning, Marina rolls away and slams a pillow down over her head. Fucking Julia.

Or maybe it's Martin.

The thought of the great musical oaf succumbing to food poisoning is almost enough to make her smile. Could she really be so lucky?

A choke and faintly feminine gasp from the bathroom is quick to answer, less she fall into the the devastating trap of optimism.

She scowls and tugs the pillow harsher against her, trying to suppress the light throbbing in her head that survived the night.

Probably she should check on Julia. Make sure she's not coughing up a lung or something.

Probably.

But that would involve sharing space with Julia. Spending time with her. Possibly exchanging words.

None of which she wants to be doing after what happened last night.

In fact, it would be a great boon to learn that the other hedge had transferred to the opposite side of the globe and would be unlikely to ever darken her doorway again. Nice knowing you. Let's not keep in touch!

A panic attack.

A fucking panic attack.

She hates panic attacks.

They're right at the top of the extensively long list of things deserving of her loathing.

You can't run from a panic attack, can't fight it. All you can do is endure, completely at its mercy.

Fuck.

She growls her shame and frustration into the mattress.

Fuck!

That wasn't supposed to happen

She wasn't prepared for it. Wasn't prepared at all.

In the past year, her nightmares have dwindled down to scattered ambushes here and there, barely worth mentioning. And there's only been one setback since she got her memories back. She was even beginning to hope that they might stop all together. After all, her demons were dead and buried. What power could they have over her now?

(too much)

And the panic attack? What the fuck was that?

Those had stopped. When's the last time she even had one?

She has to think about it - like all memories she'd rather forget, this one is shrouded over, hidden away. It takes some work to wrestle it free.

After Brakebills. During that first year, when all those healing stitches she'd so carefully woven had been mercilessly plucked undone. Not even the thread or holes were left to her, just a gaping wound never tended to. Raw and bleeding, halfway to becoming unbearable. Infected.

She'd still thought he might find her then - Hannibal. Could no longer remember that he couldn't. That she'd made sure she was safe. From one monster, at least.

She wakes from a nightmare of him cradling her to his chest, even as he drags the blade across her throat. No hesitation. There was a comfort in his arms, even as she wanted to recoil. Even as the pain ripped her open and the terror gushed free.

She wakes gasping, choking on blood she can still taste only to see the monster of her dreams come to life, hovering over her.

A phantom, nothing more. The trick of a mind addled/twisted with sleep and terror.

But her brain doesn 't register this fast enough and the adrenalin kicks in. Panic takes over.

She can 't remember what happens then, how long the attack lasted or how it ended. Only that it did.

When she comes out of it, her bedsheets are soaked and her skin is hot and sticky with sweat, tears and ghost blood . She wants to clean up but can 't make herself move. Her body weighs too heavy and every command she throws out sinks back down, into her mind like quicksand.

She manages to blink and breathe and that seems an achievement.

It 's only after a minute or two of lying there that she notices the vibration against her side, the discomfort of fur sticking to her moist skin. Purring fills her hearing. Lifting up the covers for inspection, she finds Cupcake curled against her, eyes closed in apparent contentment. As the blankets rise and some light filters in, one eye slits open and she hisses.

Marina drops the covers.

She forgot that the little beast crawled in with her last night. She 's learnt that it's best to allow this most unhygienic behavior as anything less results in scratching at her arm until she relents - and those cla ws are no joke . It 's easier, not to mention quicker, just to skip all that and jump straight to surrender. Even if she does hate to loose a fight.

It 's a wonder the cat escaped her . . . episode undisturbed . But that 's Cupcake - she doesn't get up on anyone's time but her own. A lesson that left even more scratches emblazoned on her skin.

She smooths a hand across her fur for now, kneading the sensitive spot behind her ears. The purring amplifies and the sound and rhythmic motion begin to soothe her racing heart.

As the minutes wear on, the tension eases out of her, bit by bit. She edges down and places her head beside the fluffy body, careful not to let any light in. Flattening her ear against the warmth of her chest, she closes her eyes. Thump, thump, thump . . .

She 's done this before after a bad dream. The continuous sound of Cupcake's beating heart tends to calm her like nothing else, not even alcohol. She closes her eyes and inhales the musky sent, allowing her senses to become consumed by the only person she loves.

Thump, thump, thump

Exhale.

Thump, thump, thump

Inhale

Thump, thump, thump

Exhale.

It's peaceful. Reminiscent of times when she might have been happy. Maybe this is happiness. Out of the grips of her punishing psyche. Safe in an apartment armored with wards. Alone but for a creature whose love won't hurt her. Peace or happiness. One of the two. Maybe this is it.

(more than you deserve)

The memory doesn't bring her peace or happiness now. It's sharp and clawing and makes her want to vomit or cry or break things.

There'd been no Cupcake to help her last night. There would never be a Cupcake to help her again.

(don 't)

She scratches at the still healing cuts on her arm, closes her eyes and pushes the feeling out.

There was no Cupcake. But there was Julia. And she's still not sure how she feels about that (still not sure if it was a blessing or a curse)

She saw her like that. Saw her at her weakest. No-one has ever seen her like that. No-one ever should.

But Julia did.

And she hates her for it.

Hates her own body even more for betraying her.

A panic attack.

She should have pulled away. The very second Julia moved to help her she should have fought her off. Slammed down the mask and forced her breaths to steady. She should have-

But she couldn't.

Because in that moment she wasn't Marina. In the eternal chaos of those minutes, she was Her again. Abigail. She was the girl whose father promised that everything was going to be okay as he held a knife to her throat - and wanted so badly to believe him. She was the girl who would seek out any comfort she could find, even in the arms of one who might kill her.

In that moment she clung to Julia's presence, to the escape she offered in her steady voice and reassuring gaze. She needed something to ground her, to help pull her out and Julia became that. She offered herself up for the task without hesitation, no judgment in her gaze as she talked Marina through something so simple as breathing.

For a minute there, it was even kind of . . . nice? To have someone there. Someone to care for her.

Dazed and frantic as she was, she almost gave into the urge to lean forward, to fall into Julia. To seek out her warmth and the comfort of her body. To see if those arms really would come up to hold her like they appeared to promise.

(they did, they did, during the night they did)

It's been a long time sing someone's hugged her.

There'd been a brief one from the journalist, Freddie Lounds, before she'd left, short and loose enough not to provoke panic. A polite gesture of farewell, little more.

But the last person to really hug her, to wrap her in their arms and make her feel some semblance of safety . . . was Hannibal.

It was that which made her freeze up, to draw away and right those shields. To put an end to the comfort that Julia offered and retreat behind sturdy walls of ice. When she rolled over and shut her eyes, she thought that would be the end of it. Hoped.

But then Julia's hand found hers, breached the distance between them and wrapped around her.

She didn't know what to do. Her mind was clear. It screamed at her to pull away, to escape. It fretted over the dangers of letting the contact stand, of allowing such weakness.

But that part of her still lost in pain and fear, lost in the vestiges of Abigail Hobbs, craved the connection. The world was still spinning, still violently circling around her, and she just wanted something to hold onto, to try and keep it still.

She was too tired to fight it.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would shake off the touch and pretend it had never happened. Rebuild her walls and paint on her mask. Tomorrow, she would be strong again.

But she had already shown such weakness, so until then what was a little more?

Marina squeezed the hand and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

The shower turns on.

Despite her still aching body and the heavyness to her eyelids, she resolves to get up. Best to get dressed now whilst Julia is otherwise occupied. That way she won't still be in bed when she comes out.

A cursory glance at her wrists reveals that dark bruises have formed over night and common sense tells her that the same must be true for her neck. Fantastic. It's been a long time since she's had to cover up that part of her body as a necessity and the realization that she'll have to do just that does not improve her mood. Quite the opposite.

The turtleneck she was wearing the day before is ruined with blood and holes and of no help - she'll get rid of it later, maybe hold a bonfire of sorts.

She searches Julia's closet for anything that'll make do, about to all but give up when she at last rescues a near identical black turtleneck from the depths. It's a fortunate find. The woman doesn't even own a single scarf. Who doesn't have scarves?

You know, except Marina. But there are extenuating circumstances for that.

It's not an option - and if it was she'd be a blind idiot to take it - but what she wants right then, more than anything, is to be back in her apartment. Alone. To escape the stifling presence of Julia and Martin. To reinstitute a safe circumference of at least ten meters between her and every other being.

Knowing that the farthest distance between her and somebody else is no more than that of a room makes her (symptom of anxiety). Her eyes keep flicking to the entrance to check that no-one is about to step through, her ears honing in on the barest of sounds.

When Julia leaves the bathroom, she doesn't waste any time in shoving past her and locking the door. Rude but she hasn't cared for manners in a long time.

. . .

"Being in a state of denial is a

universally human response to

situations which threaten to

overwhelm. People who were abused

as children sometimes carry their

denial like precious cargo without a

port of destination. It enabled us to

survive our childhood experiences, and often we still live in survival mode decades beyond the actual abuse. We protect ourselves to excess because we learned abruptly and painfully that no one else would. "

― Sarah E. Olson, Becoming One: A Story of Triumph Over Dissociative Identity Disorder

. . .

Someone has healed the cracks in the mirror. A small part of her, the one she can usually keep quiet, wants to lash out and break it all over again. It is like a raging tiger locked in a cage, before all the fight has given out to despair. That savage part of her. She buries it down so deep, always so deep, forces her ears to be deaf to its snarls.

It is the very opposite of control.

Gazing at her reflection, she runs her hands over her neck out of habit. Between the sensitive hiss of bruised flesh, she feels the phantom rise of knitted skin. Sometimes, she wonders why she even bothered to get rid of the scar when it's all the mirror ever shows her anyway. But hiding her deformities has never been about her own gaze, only what other people might see.

- 'All I need is a scarf to hide' -

And now not even that.

Ignoring the pounding in her head, She rinses her mouth out with listerine but the taste of blood and god still lingers in her consciousness. It will remain there for a good long while, if the past has taught her anything.

Her throat feels tender and aches more than she thinks it has a right to, an echo of times even more nightmarish. It's a good thing she's not feeling particularly chatty today. Her vocal chords would crucify her.

The bruises glare at her and she raises the turtleneck back up to cover them, suddenly queasy. It doesn't help that she can't actually remember how she got them. Or she can but only in the vaguest of flashes. Around about the third aneurysm her memory begins to cloud, becoming disjointed. She can feel his hands around her neck, his breath scorching her face, the reflexive gag she fights back - but she can't remember the context. The full picture is lost to her.

It reminds her of the broken reflections of her time living under Hannibal's roof. How there are images and sensations tangled in her memory that still don't make any sense to her.

A mercy.

Julia's medicine cabinet is well stocked. The bottle of aspirin has been moved since its last use and she has to search it out amongst the sleeping pills, anti bacterial ointment, ibuprofen, cough medicine, anti-depressants and anti-anxiety meds. She turns over the packets of the last two with casual curiosity. 450mg of Wellbutrin and 30mg of Lexapro. Not brands she's familiar with. Still mostly full and the date on the box reads from that embarrassing stint Julia pulled in rehab - disgust coils in her gut at the reminder.

Both times she was in Port Haven, they tried to medicate her. The first time she fought them off with icy rebukes and steely resistance (it helped that Hannibal and Dr. Bloom were ready to support her in her decision). She hadn't wanted to be like them. Those other girls that haunted the hallways of the facility like ghosts, who filled up group with their brokenness and despair. Girls reduced to nothing but their victimhood.

She wasn't one of them. She didn't want to be one of them. She was fine. Apart from the nightmares, she was better than fine. She was great. The perfect picture of mental health.

She was in the process of selling her house, had scattered her mother's ashes and she was working on publishing a book about herself. She had even adjusted her once future dreams and goals to account for this minor hiccup in her life - none of the colleges she applied to were an option anymore but there were other ones out there, ones that didn't know her name, better ones even; and then she would join the FBI, make something out of this terrible experience like people were always preaching about. She was handling it.

She was fine.

Not like those girls who popped pills by the dozen.

All she needed was a scarf and she was good to go. Normal again. Fine.

She didn't belong there. She never would.

The second time she was at Port Haven, passing for fine no longer mattered. Nothing did. Her mind was a little busy being completely fucked up for that. Suddenly she was the girl that others looked at with contempt, as a way to measure how well they were doing by ('so maybe I'm starving myself to death but at least I don't talk to shadows'). Maybe it was the missing ear that put them off the most. But probably it was her tendency to forget where the fuck she was that really wrote her off. The night terrors didn't help, of course. Or the police that dropped by every other day, still unconvinced that she knew as little as she claimed.

In those first few weeks, all she wanted was to be normal again. To stop waking with screams stuck in her throat. To not have a panic attack the next time they introduced red paints in art therapy. To stop losing bits of her day, to remember the hours she'd forgotten in that long (but short) seven months. To stop seeing Will's ghost in the empty spaces around her, or Hannibal's calculating eyes in the male psychiatrist who ran group time.

When a prescription was issued, she was almost too eager to take it.

But drugs are tricky and finding the right ones for her proved to be more difficult than anyone implied. None of them do much good and most bring with them a surplus of side-effects that just make everything a hundred times worse. Apparently, it can take years to find the right fit. And some people never really do.

Well, fuck that.

What had she really been expecting, anyway? It's not her brain that's the problem, it's her life. It was the world. It was every single person around her, sharks circling, deers waiting to be shot down.

No prescription could change that.

Anxiety meds to soothe her? Why? Why would she shut off the fear when it happened to be one of the only things keeping her alive? The only thing she had that could warn of a threat.

Because the threats were real. This wasn't just her fight-or-flight response acting up at harmless occurrences, this was it reacting to the fact that any person, any person, could be the next one to take a knife to her.

And besides, she soon found alcohol worked a hell of a lot better when it came to clouding shit she'd rather not feel or think about. It was reliable like that.

She wonders if medication worked any better for Julia. Doubts it. Again, the problem wasn't with the chemicals in her head. It was with life fucking things up as it always did. It was with magic.

She scowls and rakes her hair back into a bun, spies the taint of darkness under her fingernails and stills. Holds them up for inspection. Dried blood. Missed in the cleaning last night.

- she scrubs and scrubs, got to get it off, so little time, can't let them see, what will they do if they see, destroy her, destroy her, she's already destroyed, ruined, just a deer, just a deer, come out, why won't it come out, out damn spot, out I say -

She grits her teeth and forces the tap to burning. The boil of water is nothing like the sting of bleach and she breathes deep, wrestling her hands clean.

. . .

"Anti-predator adaptations are mechanisms developed through evolution that assist prey organisms in their constant struggle against predators. Throughout the animal kingdom, adaptations have evolved for every stage of this struggle.

The first line of defence consists in avoiding detection, through mechanisms such as camouflage, living underground, or nocturnality . . .

Animals may avoid becoming prey by living out of sight of predators, whether in caves, underground, or by being nocturnal. "

- Anti-Predator Adaptions, Wikipedia

. . .

It's both a relief and a cause for suspicion when Julia doesn't bring it up. She waits on edge for the reprieve to end and the hammer to fall, for the events of last night to be pushed forward into the light of day. There's blatant curiosity when she looks at her, and maybe even some concern - because Julia's one of those idiots who actually cares about people - but she doesn't mention it. Marina only starts to settle when she realizes that she's not going to mention it.

Maybe because she understands.

- "it's okay. I get them too'-

The confession still surprises her. Not the contents. It's not shocking to learn that the rape has left its share of nasty side effects. But that Julia shared it with her. Weakness isn't the same thing to her as it is to Marina, she doesn't harbor that overbearing fear and disgust. She's only just now beginning to learn the consequences. But she doubts Julia likes being vulnerable any more than her, opening herself up to attack. Probably no-one likes that, but it comes more easily to some than others. There are those who don't even give it a thought. Marina and Julia are not among them.

Exposure is a state to avoid, at all costs.

Unless it's with someone you trust.

For Marina, that list stops and ends with a cat. For Julia, she supposes it might include Quasimodo and possibly even her family. She doesn't know the situation there. But it'll include more than a cat. Because Julia cares about people. She trusts people.

And Marina's never been one of them.

So it means something that Julia ignored that last night. That she was able to get past it, to lower her defenses.

All just to make her feel better.

She supposes it could be guilt. Or shame. There seems to be a lot of that shadowing her lately.

Maybe a hint of care.

At any rate, it's something she can use, if she wants to.

Doubtful she'll need to but she likes to keep a record of all possible advantages and disadvantages, especially in terms of other people. Never know when it might come in handy.

They spend the afternoon tiptoeing around each other. Julia is aware - and considerate - enough to keep her distance. Even so, the apartment is suffocating. Wherever she goes, she can't escape the reminders that she's not really alone. Apart from the fact that Julia's junk is everywhere, Marina can still feel the hum of her energy on the periphery of her consciousness, hear the shuffling of papers, the pacing of feet. Martin crowds her in his boredom and even when she escapes him, she can't block out the whistling and singing.

All she wants is to be alone.

But there is no alone.

Not if she wants to survive.

Stomach turning, she puts down the third book that's failed to arrest her attention. She should help Julia with all that Reynard brainstorming of hers - the brunette was beginning to look frustrated last she walked past - but that would require actually being in the same room with her. Next to her. Talking to her.

Also, Reynard is not a problem she wants to give a thought to today (the impression of his face attacking from her memory leaves a tremor in her hands that she's determined to keep hidden).

Besides, she doesn't really have any ideas beyond cutting off his cock and feeding it to him - the logistics of which she's admittedly a little vague on.

Despite their healthy avoidance of each other, last night is still clearly at the forefront of their minds. The avoidance, if anything, only seems to strengthen this. She knows that if she doesn't find something to keep her mind occupied she's going to go crazy with thinking about it. Julia suggests ordering takeout for dinner and that settles it. She hasn't had a decent meal since Martin kidnapped her - there's surprise in realizing that was only three days ago. Her body is healing and she's not going to make the job harder by attacking the collagen in her skin with sugar.

Besides, sugar makes her antsy and she doesn't need any more of that.

She elbows her way past Martin - who seems to be performing some kind of culinary experiment with ice-cream, marshmallows and Twinkies, she grimaces - into the kitchen and begins her search. The fridge and pantry are pretty bare and hold little in the way of anything nutritious. It's disappointing but not unexpected. Still, she manages to scrounge up some (very sad) vegetables, pasta, a can of pureed tomatoes and beans.

It'll do.

She spends the rest of the afternoon cooking dinner and deflecting Martin's attempts to 'help' - no, we are not adding three cups of sugar. She can't wait for Julia to stop being an idiot and get rid of this guy.

Her skin crawls with his close proximity - if he's aware of the meaning of personal space then he's discarded it as entirely irrelevant. Every time he inches closer, her spine stiffens and her thoughts fog over, her senses narrowing to the overpowering stink of his aftershave. Heart thudding, palms sweating, her feet itch to run.

She thinks of her bedroom in her apartment, tucked away. Cupcake curled up on her pillow, indignant at any attempts to move her. The wards tracing a circle around her bed, ready to disturb her sleep at the slightest threat of intrusion.

She might even feel safe there.

(nowhere is safe)

Everyone feels like a threat to her right now. But this man actually is a threat.

More than capable of killing her, all that's missing is motive - and she doesn't doubt that he could find one easily.

She'll bite her lip and fight through it, purposefully relaxing her stance and loosening her grip on whatever kitchen instrument in her hand. He'll smirk and lean back, granting her some of that space she hungers for. He knows exactly what he's doing.

It's a relief when Julia arrives to take him off her hands. The kitchen knife was growing far too tempting to pass up and she's not sure driving it through the bastard's hand would end well for any of them. She's not an idiot. She may not know who he is or where Julia found him but she does know he's powerful. More powerful than her. Maybe even more powerful than Julia. She can feel the heightened magic coming off him in waves, noxious, suffocating, battering up against the wards of her mind (let me in, let me in).

It's a good thing she's used to cooking beside people who might kill her.

She's pleased to discover that what Julia's kitchen may lack in actual food it makes up for in spell ingredients - she at least has her priorities right. It doesn't take long for Marina to scramble together a decent healing paste for the cuts on her arm - now hidden beneath a sweater. She didn't miss the looks it had garnered from Julia last night - that same frustrating curious concern - and she was resolved not to let it stand. Rubbing the paste into her skin, she mutters some Old Dutch and feels the tingling itch of pain that signifies her skin knitting back together. Cleaning the smelly paste away reveal an arm as good as new and she sighed over the fact that she couldn't do the same for her hand.

(not now, not now, not now)

. . .

"Alternatively, prey animals may ward off attack, whether by advertising the presence of strong defences in aposematism, by mimicking animals which do possess such defences, by startling the attacker, by signalling to the predator that pursuit is not worthwhile, by distraction, by using defensive structures such as spines, and by living in a group. . . . Pursuit-deterrent signals are behavioral signals used by prey that convince predators not to pursue them. For example, gazelles stot, jumping high with stiff legs and an arched back. This is thought to signal to predators that they have a high level of fitness and can outrun the predator. As a result, predators may choose to pursue a different prey that is less likely to outrun them . . ."

- Anti-predator adaptation, Wikipedia

. . .

Growing up with Kathryn Wicker for a mother has given Julia a keen awareness of the fluctuating levels of hostility in others - and when it's best to enlist the strategy of avoidance. Today, Marina is setting off all her alarms. She keeps a wide birth.

From what little she's seen of her, space seems to be what Marina wants most of all. So Julia backs off, keeps away and pretends she doesn't see the few times the other woman falters in her presence.

Still, the questions gnaw at her. She's not sure if it's concern or just morbid curiosity, not sure of much of anything when it comes to her feelings these days, but she can't stop wondering about last night.

It's in her nature to poke and prod at problems until they bleed truth, untangle the intricate details of their working for study. Her projects for school were always the most extensive and well-researched. She hates to be confronted with information she doesn't understand and can't let it go until she does. Magic was like that.

The thing is, Marina isn't a problem or a project or even some new philosophical novel. Poking and prodding in this case probably isn't going to achieve the optimal result. Most likely it will just make her really, really pissed. Julia can't just come out and ask what the hell last night was about either because that would be far too honest - for both of them. And diagrams and highlighters probably aren't going to help much, though she'll keep them on hand just in case.

Julia's tried and true attack-it-head-on approach is not Marina compatible.

So she's resigned herself to watching. And waiting. And listening.

Keeping on the alert for any signs or words that could help add a little transparency to the situation.

To be fair, she should just forget about it. Whatever it is, it's Marina's business, not hers. Whatever skeletons she has under lock and key in her closet aren't for Julia to dig out. She's got enough on her plate to worry about - far greater, dickier fish to fry. She doesn't have the time or the head space for anyone else's problems.

Then again, the more time she spends thinking about Marina's problems, the less time she has to think about her own . . .

Well.

That does sound tempting.

But still, nothing to be done about it. She can't ask and Marina won't initiate. Best just to forget about it and move onto their vast and growing array of alternative headaches - it's not like she's starved for choice.

'Daddy, please.'

Julia cringes at the taste of ink, pulling the head of the pen out of her mouth and sparing it a scorned glance. It's been thoroughly chewed, no doubt about that.

Chucking it into the nearest bin, she levitates a glass of water into her hand to wash her mouth out. Her taste buds may be taking a nap for the most part but they still manage to groan their displeasure.

It's that one statement. That one piece of information Marina let slip.

It won't let her go.

And she can't shake the feeling that she knows what it pertains to. That the mystery isn't a mystery at all and the answer is right smack in front of her.

It's distracting.

Which is actually a good thing. Especially when her brainstorming around fox traps hasn't progressed much beyond a sad little bubble with the word 'trap' in it. And there's that one other circle on the page - 'knife?' - that gives her a headache every time she looks at it. What is she going to do without her nifty god killing blade? Talk him to death?

Maybe Reynard has a hummus allergy . . .

On the bright side, the alert on her phone for any new activity involving Alexis Bledel and Lauren Graham has been blessedly silent - she got worried for a second there when she couldn't find Martin in the house after getting dressed, and his only explanation upon returning was that he'd been out 'amusing' himself. She shudders to think about what that could involve.

Martin had probably been one of those boys who thought using a magnifying glass to incinerate ants made for a jolly good time.

She tires and throws her pen down, pushing away from the table and all its frustrating contents.

Coffee. Needed. Now.

For the majority of the afternoon, she's kept away from the kitchen. Marina laid claim to it some time after lunch and it's in everyone's best interests that she's not disturbed. As long as she's occupying herself with culinary pursuits, she's not breaking any more of Julia's mirrors. Or that's the hope.

Whatever she's doing, she can't deny that it smells alright. Food doesn't hold much interest for her at the moment but she's still somewhat curious to see what Marina has made.

When she gets there, Martin is at the counter decked out in oven mitts, apron and chef's hat - where did he even-? He's cutting up carrots and Marina is watching the actions carefully, gaze sharp and suspicious. If he screws up what he's doing, Julia entertains the thought that Marina might take that knife and turn it on him. She should probably stay close, just in case.

Neither of them will be of any use to her if they kill each other.

Also, who the fuck cuts up carrots whilst wearing oven mitts?

"What are you cooking?"

Marina doesn't risk taking her scrutiny off Martin to spare her a glance. Julia notices a further tightening to her shoulders, though, that suggests she's fully aware of her and that she's less than agreeable to the intrusion. "Pasta Fagioli."

"I . . . don't know what that is."

The redhead sighs. It's loaded with exasperation and no small amount of disdain. "It's a classic Italian dish made with pasta, beans and vegetables. Not my best version but your fridge and pantry are like a college boy's. It's disgusting by the way."

"Hasn't really been my top priority." Somehow, she manages to tone down the venom and bitterness by a whopping twenty percent.

"Yes, well, I think we can all agree that it should be," Martin cuts in, raising a slice of carrot to his lips. "This time has more food than it knows what to do with. It's marvelous. It would be a shame not to take advantage of that."

Marina smacks him on the shoulder as he finishes the carrot. "Stop eating my food."

He scowls down at her and Julia can see the hand still gripping the knife clench.

It's a chilling reminder of just how dangerous he is. For all his love of musical theater and chickflicks, he is not harmless. He would kill them in an instant if it suited his purposes. Well, he'd kill Marina. Julia is still protected by their Word as Bond. Hopefully. They didn't exactly negotiate what would happen if her part of the deal - the knife - went missing.

Though, if he's suddenly a free agent, he hasn't dropped any hints.

And the whole continuing to help them part makes her think that he isn't.

Unless he's just sticking around for her food. And her TV. Speaking of. . .

"I have more Gilmore Girls episodes if you want at 'em," she intervenes before things can escalate into violence.

He actually looks conflicted. Apparently, choosing between annoying her and annoying Marina is a tough call.

"Very well." He reluctantly releases the knife which Marina is quick to snatch up like an stolen child - Julia tries not to stare when the sleeve of her turtleneck rises up for a second, revealing an angry purple brand encircling her wrist. He grins down at the older hedge knowingly and discards the oven mitts and apron. As they hit the counter, the apron morphs into a recognizable kitchen towel - no doubt its original form. He keeps the chef's hat. "I am curious to find out whether young Rory will rise to her full potential and cut off Jess's cock for attempting to take sexual advantage of her."

Julia closes her eyes as they leave the kitchen. She's going to need another memory wipe after all this is over. Or maybe just the sweet oblivion of death.

. . .

"Her life was one endless loop that she raced around, with steep banked curves so she could never change or slow down. It just delivered her back to herself, over and over and over."

― Chris Cleave, Gold

. . .

She spends her time in the shower drilling herself on paltry spell tricks, running her hands through techniques she's long since mastered. The low level stuff is still easy as pie and it's a relief to cross those off her list. But the higher up she goes, the more fingers required, the harder things get. Spells that should have been simple suddenly require extra energy and concentration to make up for what's missing, or else fail all together. The drying spell she performs on her hair instead catches a strand on fire and she has to rush back under the spray of the shower to put it out. At least her flushed skin when she comes out again makes the bruises on her wrists and neck harder to discern. Tomorrow, she'll make up some more paste to solve that.

She knew this was a possibility. The moment she realized Julia with her useless god powers couldn't heal her finger, she knew - practicing magic wasn't going to be the same.

She just didn't think it would fuck things up this much.

That soundproofing spell she learnt in her first year out of Brakebills. It was easy. A part of ward magic, which she's always excelled at. It's one of those spells that just comes naturally to her, without thought.

And now she can't even perform the first hand position.

Fuck.

She might have been at Reynard's mercy before this but now she really is powerless against him. Until she finds a way to work around an absent finger - and she will - she's all but prey to any passing predator. She's still got more going for her than most of the waste that frequents safe houses but that's not really saying much. She wouldn't stand a chance against Martin. Or Julia.

If he turns on her again, if she chooses to turn on her now . . . what hope will she have?

She wouldn't even win a fight against Julia's ridiculous friends in this state.

She's defenseless. Surrounded on all sides by beings more powerful than her. Most of whom either want her dead or would be indifferent to her passing.

How did this happen? How did she get here again?

After all she's done, all her work-

She was never supposed to be the weakest person in a room. Not ever again.

Her only hope is that Julia ranks her high enough on her list of priorities to warrant protection. Though Marina shudders at the notion. To rely on anyone for that goes against her strongest instincts. She knows how it ends. Them failing. Them betraying her. Them dead.

Her: bleeding out on a kitchen floor.

Not again.

She can't rely on Julia for anything. Whatever the other woman's intentions, pure or not, they won't mean a damn thing when the devil finally comes to collect. Intentions change. Reality happens. People let you down.

No, she just has to work fast, work hard. All her spare time needs to go towards training her mind and body to cope with this loss and perform without grief. She's not powerful right now? She'll make herself powerful. Won't be the first time. Won't even be the first time she's had to relearn magic.

Piece of cake.

The nightmares, of course, are also a problem. She can't afford to have any more panic attacks in front of Julia. Or, god forbid, blurt some critical piece of information out in her sleep. She would sleep somewhere else but right now Julia's room is the only place that seems even half-way off limits to Martin - and she'd rather the other hedge witness her at her worst than that walking dick.

Decided, Marina focuses on the mirror and stares at her reflection, her attention narrows to the pale blue of her eyes, foreground receding, pupils dilating. She begins to feel herself sink . . .

Tomorrow, she'll think of a better plan. But for now . . .

She traces patterns with either hand on her temples, slowly, careful. Precise little runes that she knows by heart. As she does, something starts building in her mind, flimsy and thin, but tangible. She grows it up, closes her eyes and breathes her relief as she feels the barrier stretch across.

For now, she's more than earned herself a fucking dreamless sleep.

. . .

"Avoidance is a wonderful therapy." ― Maggie Stiefvater, Linger

. . .

They don't talk about it. They go about their day, mostly separate but sometimes coming together, and they don't talk about it. Marina pretends it never happened and Julia . . . Julia lets her, she's familiar with the need that drives that kind of pretending.

Marina makes them dinner which is surprisingly delicious - 'I had a good teacher,' she says, mouth twisting into something ugly - and Julia cleans up afterwords. It's all very domestic.

Martin puts on West Side Story and is singing along within the first five minutes, at which point Marina makes the timely announcement that she knows a soundproofing charm. Julia could have kissed her.

It's after they retreat to the bedroom to perform the spell that they run into an obstacle. And it's not a small one. The last time Marina worked magic of this level, she was in full possession of all her fingers, and the missing appendage is making it impossible to form the right hand positions.

Julia watches, chest sinking, as the woman grows more and more frustrated in her movements. By the time she reaches out a hand to still her, Marina's cheeks are flushed and there's a suspicious gleam to her eyes.

(See? See what you cause? The result of your actions?)

"Talk me through what I have to do."

In the past, Marina proved herself to a be an adept teacher. Patient and with just the right blend of tough and encouraging. Also, she never takes any bullshit.

They can do this.

By the time Julia masters the spell, though, she counts herself lucky that she still has all limbs attached, if not the corner of her left eyebrow. A pissed Marina does not a patient teacher make. The senior hedge grunts her approval but doesn't wait around any longer than that, storming off into the bathroom, door slamming shut behind her.

She's in there for over an hour, and Julia really has to pee.

There's hope. It was only one finger and that can be worked around. It'll just take time to learn how. Maybe there's even something magic can do, to lesson the damage.

Martin has extra fingers, so it's obviously not impossible. And Penny got his hands back - though they weren't eaten by a fox god. Julia grimaces and resolves not to think about it.

(she elects to ignore the fact that both these things happened in Fillory. And they're not in Fillory. And she has no intention of ever going back to Fillory)

When Marina finally emerges from the bathroom, her hair is dripping wet down her back and she's clad in only a towel. A very short one.

Once again she failed to take her pajamas in with her.

Julia swallows, looks away.

At this point, she has to be doing it on purpose. The old mess with Julia routine. She always got such a kick out of that.

"Your hot water's out."

Of course it is.

Closing her eyes with a sigh, she elects to ignore that - on account of the whole fox-ate-my-finger thing.

The Beast chooses this moment to poke his head in. Unfortunately. "We're also out of Lucky Charms. Julia, be a dear and fetch some more."

You're the one who can travel anywhere at will

When did her life become this?

She looks at Marina for help, or simply some well-earned pity, but receives only a callous shrug in response. "You're the one who wanted to keep him." There's not a trace of remorse in her voice, and no small amount of pleasure at her suffering.

God help her.

Stalking over, Julia shuts the door in his face. "Get it yourself." Mercifully, the charm cuts off any protest he might - most assuredly would - have given.

Right, problem one: solved.

Resolving to skip showering for that night - seeing as she has no desire to freeze to death, yet - she retreats to the bathroom to change and get ready for bed. Though, apparently not quick enough. She catches a glimpse of too much flesh as a towel is dropped before she hastily shuts the door on it.

She's never been all that comfortable with nudity - her mum of the opinion that it was just a hop, skip and a jump away from joining a satanic cult. After leaving home, she's mostly been able to shake off the worst of her teachings but since Reynard-

Well. It's like all the demons of her childhood have risen up for another bite. The other day, when picking out an outfit, she found herself running each item of clothing past the checklist she'd started developing when she was five; the one that ensured she would meet her mother's approval without too much trouble - there'd been a phase during her later teens when she'd intentionally gone against the rulebook just to get a rise out of the older woman. It didn't make sense. She hasn't seen her mother in almost two years and has no intention of doing so for at least another five (though she'll be lucky if she just gets one). Not to mention, she doesn't give a fuck about clothes or what she wears. Most days it's a trial just to put together the energy to sift through her closet and pull something on.

But the procedure was . . . comforting, almost. Familiar, definitely. For five whole minutes, she thought about nothing but the clothes under her gaze and the checklist at the back of her mind.

A respite.

When Julia exits the bathroom, Marina is already curled up in bed (not Julia's side this time) and feigning sleep.

No, they don't talk about it.

But later, when they're both in bed, minutes dragging on, Julia extends a hand and Marina takes it. When they wake in the morning, they're wrapped up in each other once more. There are no nightmares.

. . .

"We're all drowning, but don't say it out loud." ― Marty Rubin

[embracetheapocalypsewithme]

Embracing the Apocalypse, Part 13: Gimme Danger

It’s Tuesday and the news is kind of making me feel depressed, so here’s some smut. Maybe that’ll cheer us all up! Let’s party!

Summary: Rebecca preps for her first outing with the scavengers and Negan helps her get warmed up.  

Word Count: 2,960

Content Warnings (or selling points?): Smut, Negan, Negan being Negan, nudity, another goddam dream sequence, and fooling around.

Part 1: The Tale of Thelma Facefuck

Part 2: What’s Up, Doc?

Part 3: A Successful Job Interview Begins with a Firm Handshake and Ends with a Salty Surprise

Part 4: A Crack in Everything

Part 5: Sorting Duty Sucks

Part 6: A Faint Whiff of Bullshit in the Air

Part 7: Turn and Face the Strange

Part 8: Poor Life Choices

Part 9: In Which Negan is a Total Jerk

Part 10: No Plan

Part 11: Negan Settles Rebecca’s Hash

Part 12: I know Where That Hand Has Been, Negan

Part 13: Gimme Danger

Part 14: The Loneliest Hours of the Morning

Part 15: Well, Fuck You Too, Kitty!

Tag List Roll Call: @negans-network @unicorn-blood-splatter @lucifers-trash-stash @opheliadawnwalker3 @ali-pennell @thedeadwalks @negans-dirty-girl @grab-my-boner

Read on A03: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8807527/chapters/21560210

Part 13: Gimme Danger

The remainder of Rebecca’s day was spent preparing for her first assignment with the group. Although no one had confirmed that it would actually happen yet, she picked out the clothing she would wear, set her alarm for 6am so that she would have enough time to shower before leaving, and studied the map Chris had given her until she could re-draw the thing from memory. 

The only time she took a break from her preparations was to swing by the cafeteria and grab her dinner. Tonight’s delicacies consisted of instant mashed potatoes and some kind of chunky brown slop from a can that claimed to be “beef stew”, which she grudgingly ate alone in her room.

A few hours after dinner saw her still hunched over the map, her fingers tracing along the routes between the communities and outposts with admiration. Even though it was somewhat sketchy, the people who had created it had clearly put in a lot of time and effort when they created it. 

Furthermore, she knew that if she was going to hang onto this position, she would have to go above and beyond what was expected of her to really impress the others on her team. Rote memorization of the surrounding landscape might prove to be the best way to achieve this, so she studied the map for as long as she could.

There came a knock at her door around 9pm. 

Rebecca had been expecting that someone would eventually come to inform her that they were still on for the next morning, or to let her know that there weren’t enough men to make the journey so soon. As she reached out to pull the door open, her stomach tightened with anticipation of the news that waited for her on the other side. The hinges creaked and Chris’s face came into view, looming before her in the doorway. She fought her face’s natural urge to showcase her disappointment at the fact that it wasn’t Negan who would deliver the verdict to her.

“Well,” Chris began, “I’ve got some bad news for you.”

Her stomach dropped at his words, “Oh, were there not enough men?”

“No, no. We have plenty of men. The bad news is that you have to get your ass to bed ASAP because you’ll be getting up at the crack of dawn to be on the road.”

“Don’t do that to me!” she laughed and heaved a sigh of relief, “You had me for a second.”

“Sorry, but it was hard to resist,” he said chuckling at her widened eyes and flushed face.

“So you do have a sense of humour then!” she said, her heart rate still climbing down after the scare he had given her.

“From time to time, I’ve been known to crack a joke,” he replied, turning to leave, “Meet us tomorrow morning at Negan’s office. 7:30am sharp. Don’t be late.”

“Got it!”

Closing the door, she allowed herself to drop to the bed, heaving a sigh of relief. Chris was right: she would have to get her ass to bed soon or else she would be dragging herself along behind the group like one of those dead things outside the next morning. Rebecca climbed beneath her sheets, fully clothed, too exhausted from her day of studying to even bother getting undressed. The last thing she did before closing her eyes was to check that her alarm was set for 6am the next morning. Once she was confident that everything was in order, she allowed herself to be taken down into the darkness of sleep.

***

This dream was different than the others. There was no forest, only the dimly lit halls of an abandoned building. Her footfalls were gritty against the cracked tiles that had been stained with rust and grime. A fluorescent bulb flickered in the distance like a dying star, hurting her eyes. Everything smelled of sourness and death. This place was spoiled and rank with death.

Behind her came a long and mournful moan. She whirled around to investigate its origin in time to see a large figure step out of a doorway at the end of the hall and begin dragging itself toward her as if its body was no longer its own. From the gait, she knew immediately that it was a dead thing, and that it knew exactly where she was. It was coming for her.

(there's nothing in my dreams. just some ugly memories)

Her body felt as if it were paralyzed. She wanted to run and scream, to leave this terrible place, but she couldn’t. As the figure neared her, passing under a barely-functioning light, she saw the facial features emerge from the shadows. It was Negan. His arms hung limply at his sides and his eyes were glazed over and milky in death. A large wound wrapped itself around his neck, the blood long since congealed around it. He was dead.

She had to go on.

She had to move.

She couldn’t move.

As the dead thing walked along the corridor, passing open doorways, other figures joined it, dragging their feet along the surface of the floor. She saw Chris, the side of his face ripped open, mouth chopping hungrily at the air as he neared her. There were other men that she recognized from the Sanctuary with them. They were all dead. All coming toward her, reaching out with cracked fingernails caked with gore.

At the back of the undead mob, she noticed a figure with wavy, light brown hair. It stood shorter than most of the other figures, but she knew it instantly. She had spent years studying and adoring its face. The eyes were dead now, not the deep green she had loved to look into every morning. She hadn’t seen him since the forest. She had killed him there, after he had turned, and yet here he was. They were all here, and they were all going to drag her down with them.

Rebecca was still frozen in place as the first one grabbed at her, pulling her toward its mouth. A scream was torn from her throat as it sank its teeth into her face. They were all on her now, ripping and biting at her flesh. Another scream was raked through her throat, piercing the air.

The pain was unimaginable, yet in her dying moments she thought that maybe it was good. This is what she deserved. She had gotten them all killed. This was her fault, so death was her fate.

(what can i do about my dreams?)

***

Her eyes sprang open in the darkness of her room. The first thing she noticed was that the air no longer smelled of death and rot. Her sheets were soaked with sweat and her heart thudded in her chest. She was alive. Bit by bit, she came back to herself. She was in her dorm room in the Sanctuary. She was safe.

Her breathing and heart rate slowed as she tried to calm herself after the nightmare. She told herself that it had only been her brain trying to work out her anxieties about the next day while she slept. That was all. Nothing bad would happen on the road. Dreams did not determine the future.

Looking at her watch she saw that it was only 3am; still a few hours before she needed to be up. She attempted to slow her breathing down further, closing her eyes and forcing her head back to the pillow as her inner monologue attempted to placate her irrational thoughts:

(you’ll get them all killed, just like you got him killed!)

(it wasn’t your fault. it was no one’s fault.)

(everything will be fine. it was just a dream. go the fuck to sleep)

She allowed the darkness to swallow her conscious thoughts once more.

(just a dream. just a dream. go the fuck to sleep. it was no one’s fault)

Before fully losing consciousness, she silently wished for a dreamless sleep.

***

The alarm sounded at 6am, jarring Rebecca awake. Her wish for a dreamless sleep had thankfully come true, and she woke up feeling rested and ready for the day. Brushing away memories of the previous night’s bad dreams, she went about her typical morning routine of showering and grabbing a quick breakfast before going to meet the rest of her team in the hallway outside of Negan’s office.

Her footfalls reverberated as she rounded the corner that marked Negan’s wing of the building. Assembled in the corridor was a cluster of six men and women, joking and chatting casually to one another. As Rebecca approached, the conversation fizzled out and heads turned toward her.

Chris stepped forward to greet her, “Good morning, Rebecca. It’s good to see you again.”

“Good morning! Nice to see you too,” and then to the larger group, “I’m Rebecca. I guess I’m the new girl.”

The others mumbled their greetings, and Chris asked them all to introduce themselves to her. She learned that the group mainly consisted of ex-military and law enforcement employees. They also counted among their ranks a former military history teacher and a young man who had been a lifeguard before the world ended, which made her feel slightly less out of place amongst the gaggle of bad-asses and hard-looking characters.

As the introductions finished up, the door to Negan’s office swung open, hitting the wall beside it with a loud bang and silencing all conversation. Rebecca tried to keep a straight face as her brain summoned up an image of him on the other side of the door, listening to them and waiting for just the right moment to shove the door open and make his entrance as dramatic as possible.

The man himself swaggered into the hallway.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he began in his typical boisterous manner, which felt wholly unnatural given the early hour, “Let’s all wake the fuck up and hit the road! It’s gonna be a long one.”

He inspected the group, looking to see if he approved of their equipment and attire. Rebecca’s heart jumped into her throat as he stopped just in front of her and stared her down. Unsure of how friendly to act toward him, or if she should even make eye contact, she squeaked out a simple “Hello!”, keeping her eyes on the floor.

“You!” he barked at her, sending her hair on end and causing her head to jerk up and her eyes to widen. His gaze was dark, showing none of the warmth she had become accustomed to with him.

“Yes, sir?” she replied.

“You are not dressed for this shit at all. Seriously?” he brought an index finger out to hook under the strap of her tank top, snapping it against her shoulder, “Shorts and a tank top? You want to slather yourself in BBQ sauce to invite some walker bites too?”

“It- it’s all I have. I don’t have any other clothes,” she murmured, feeling sudden, hot anger toward the man. He had to know that she had basically nothing in this world now. How dare he embarrass her in front of her new colleagues.

“Come with me. We’ll fix this and then get on the road,” he said flatly before walking briskly down the hall. Rebecca struggled to keep up with his pace as she jogged beside him.

They remained silent until they came to stop at the commissary’s storage closet where Negan pulled a key from his pocket, unlocking the door and stepping inside the darkened room. Rebecca followed. It was still too early for any staff to be there, so they were alone amongst the shelves of goods and racks of clothing.

“Thanks a lot, asshole!” she hissed at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What? You are dressed utterly fucking ridiculously for what we’re doing.”

“Is that so? And you couldn’t have given me a fucking heads up yesterday?”

“It slipped my mind,” his voice was still flat, but a devious look had taken over his eyes, “Plus, if I had done that, I wouldn’t get to watch you strip for me now, would I?”

Rebecca shook her head, sighing in annoyance at his antics, “Ok, what am I going to wear then?”

Negan scanned the racks, seeming to look for something specific. Once his eyes found what he was searching for, he grabbed a hanger off of the rack and held it out to her, “Ideally, this, but I don’t think it’ll be much better than what you have on,” he said grinning. A very tight, skimpy cocktail dress hung from the hanger, looking to be at least two sizes too small for the curvy woman.

“As if that would even fit over my ass! Get real!”

“Ok, maybe another time. Here!” he replaced the dress and grabbed a pair of thick khaki pants and a long-sleeved grey shirt, “This that’ll work?”

Rebecca nodded and took the garments from his hands, “Where do I change?”

“Oh come on, Fuckface! You’re not getting all shy on me, are you? Change right here. For me?” he wiggled his eyebrows at her in what she assumed was supposed to be a seductive look, but which just came across as goofy, “It’s gonna be hard enough not ravaging you while we’re out there on the road together. Can’t I at least get a little show to jerk off to in my sleeping bag?”

“You are not being very charming this morning,” she said with a laugh, “But I’ll do it anyway. Out of pragmatism, you see,” she said as she pulled her tank top up over her head revealing her ratty, old bra before removing her shorts.

“Mmmm-hmmm. Sure. That looks pragmatic,” he said, licking his lips at the sight of her body before grabbing a sports bra from a shelf to his right, “Here, try this. That bra looks like it’s about to bite the dust and it’s totally killing my boner.”

“Thanks. You know how to make a girl feel special,” she said dryly, unlatching the clasps on her bra before letting it drop.

Negan’s grin widened at the sight of her now fully naked before him in the storage room. Taking a step forward so that their bodies nearly touched, he reached out to caress her shoulder and down her arm before cupping one leather-clad hand over a breast. Goosebumps rose along her arms as she inhaled deeply, allowing him to touch her.

“These are fucking lovely, if you don’t mind me saying so,” he said, his voice dropping to a low growl.

“I don’t mind at all,” she said as she tilted her face up so that their lips touched in a deep kiss. A groan escaped Negan’s mouth as she brought a hand down to feel the front of his pants, which were beginning to tighten around his hardening cock.

“And that feels magnificent, if you don’t mind me saying so,” she giggled.

Emitting a low growl, he pushed her against a nearby wall, and began to plant kisses along her neck and collarbones before moving lower. Rebecca gasped at the dissonance between the cold concrete against her back and his warm mouth meeting her nipples. He allowed his tongue to swirl around her and she could feel arousal begin to spread throughout her body.

Negan began to move his face lower, trailing his tongue down her stomach as he got on his knees before grabbing her right leg and throwing it over his shoulder. He began to kiss her inner thighs, nipping at the delicate flesh and teasing her while planting his gaze firmly on her eyes, appearing to enjoy the flush that had spread across her cheeks.

Without warning, the door to the commissary creaked open, splitting the darkness with a beam of light from the hallway to illuminate their forms. For the second time in 24 hours, Rebecca froze like a deer in headlights, caught in the act. This time, however, she was completely exposed. Negan jerked his head away from her and stood quickly to shield her from the eyes of the person entering the room.

“Jesus fucking Christ! Can’t I walk into a room without finding you two going at it?” the voice was female and filled with contempt.

“Fuck, Julie!” Negan sounded annoyed, “What the fucking fuck are you doing here anyway?”

“I’m opening today, idiot,” she placed a hand on her hip, “You know, the job I have to do because you got your ass thrown in jail a few years ago.”

“Well, can you give us a minute? I was just getting Rebecca here some clothes for work.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what it looked like you were doing,” Julie rolled her eyes at the lame excuse, “I’ll be back in five minutes. Please be gone when I get back,” she said before shutting the door a little bit too hard and rattling some of the items on the shelves nearby.

Rebecca scurried toward the pile of clothing on the floor, hurriedly pulling the bra and shirt on before the pants, “So, I guess we suck at being careful and discreet.”

“We’re just lucky that it was Julie and not someone else who barged in here,” said Negan thoughtfully, “At least Julie knows how to keep her mouth shut.”

“You feel pretty confident about that, huh? I hope you aren’t wrong.”

“Nah, I think we’re ok. Let’s get the fuck out of here before people start looking for us,” he said, patting her ass as she exited the room in front of him. They walked back to his office in silence to rejoin the group.