#the way his response to everything ever is ‘im a driver im not meant to be here im just a driver’

[doctorwhommm]

this is a driver evans stan account you guys don’t get it he’s the funniest mf around

[wo-onu]

╰₊✧ ﾟ⚬𓂂➢ [character profile]

* ・✦⇢ contents :: yandere!oc first meeting + various scenarios + hcs

* ・✦⇢ warnings/cw :: yandere themes, constant watching, obsessive behaviour, violent thoughts (not towards the reader or oc), sexism (not explicit but implied), profanities, threatening thoughts (not towards darling)

* ・✦⇢ additional notes :: can be read as gn. also, no particular traits mentioned except dimples on darling, as well as being younger than oc. word “tiny” is used, but it just meant that you are shorter than haejoon. also, mentioned attending taekwondo training. again, no particulars but it is written with feminine chubby + plus sized reader in mind though not explicitly specified in the post.

:: [important tls ! sunbae = senior | hoobae = junior | maknae = youngest | ya - an informal way of saying hey | noona - older sister used by guys as opposed to ‘unnie’ used by girls! | aigoo = my goodness]

:: a/n: this is a whopping 5k+ work. sorry it’s such a long work but haejoon and his darling has quite the history together. honestly it doesn’t even cover all of it but here ya go~ do tell me if i didn’t note anything or missed something ㅠㅡㅠ didn’t have time to double check everything so yea. again, feedbacks/likes/reblogs/requests are welcomed!

:: will be split in two parts!

PLEASE DON’T EVER BECOME A STRANGER WHOSE LAUGH I COULD RECOGNISE EVERYWHERE !

yandere!oc

ʚ ﹒ ﹕ ̟乀 kang haejoon :: 강 해준

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~ ☆゜ first meeting headcanons + scenario !

[part one] [part two]

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ haejoon was a sunbae in high school, while you were his hoobae. he was two grades above you, meaning he was a senior while you were a freshman. though, you did skip a grade therefore you were at least 3 years younger than him.

this is tiring.

haejoon couldn’t believe his luck. he was late because he insisted that he can survive going to school using public transportation instead of the comfort of their own car and personal driver. so now, he’s panting and huffing despite his innate athleticism because he doesn’t want to be late.

i shouldn’t have been so stubborn. a regret belatedly thought.

a shortcut would’ve definitely solved his problem, but it just so happened that he got off at the route that was quite a long walk to the school.

“oh as i thought, you’re here again.” a quiet voice rang in the desolate area. curious, haejoon looked around and spotted a tiny figure squatting down as an even smaller kitten meowed in response.

forgetting about running out of time, he stood out of sight and continued to observe what was happening in front of him.

someone i’ve never seen before, but is undoubtedly wearing our uniform. haejoon thought as he watched you rummage through your bag before taking out some canned cat food, with a satisfied grin as if proud of yourself for accomplishing such a task. how cute.

“i’m sorry i can’t come and take you... im really worried you’d be in danger since you don’t have a home,” seeing as how you kept talking to the kitten as it eats, perhaps you are the type to not mind being late.

“i really want to keep you... but my family will be against it, im sorry. but i hope you continue going here so i can at least feed you a little.” with a slight frown, haejoon wondered how someone can utter such sweet words despite having a poker face. weren’t you just grinning awhile ago? the more he watched you fuss over the kitten and made sure it was okay and had no injuries or something, you finally dusted yourself off, carrying the kitten in your hand.

“i will go now, see you later” shaking the kittens paw as if in a handshake, you bent down to set the kitten on the ground once more. once down, the kitten then nuzzled their tiny face on your ankle, a smile finally overtaking your features.

dimples... how cute.

then, as you watch the kitten stroll away, face wiped of expression, you checked the time and shrugged, leisurely walking down the school.

haejoon watched all this with a curious face, how come someone is that relaxed knowing they’re late?

‘shit, should i be thinking about that? i’m late’ he jogged a little and ensured he will slightly bump into you, as if he’s not been watching you this entire time.

with a quiet ‘huh?’ you looked at the person who bumped you, stepping back to see his face clearer.

“i’m so sorry, i’m running late so i was in a hurry and didn’t see you, are you alright?” flashing his social smile, as it had yet failed to capture anyone’s attention, he feigned worry as he himself knew he didn’t even bump into you that bad.

“no, it’s alr— um excuse me? are you sure you’re running late? do you have a meeting you need to attend early or something?”

“huh?” dumbfounded, all haejoon could do is stare at you. oh my god, she responded.

“huh? well, unless you have prior engagements, i don’t think you should be rushing. it’s two hours before bell.” double checking your phone, you showed him the time.

embarrassment filled him, heat rushed through his head. no way, did those punks mess with my phone to make me panic? just wait til i get them.

“o-oh, um, yes! that’s right! i’m needed somewhere so i’m in a hurry, i’m really sorry!” slightly bowing, his eyes landed at your slight extended hand holding a handkerchief to him.

“alright. then, use this to wipe yourself at least. you don’t need to give it back.” unable to still shake his own humiliation, he nodded and said a quick thanks, then immediately ran to make it seem he really is late to a meeting. he’s not even part of the school committee or whatever. although, you seem to be unaware of that.

then, his little crush began.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ weeks and weeks after that, he continued taking the longer route to school, asking his driver to drop him off there instead of the school. all so he could catch a glimpse of a person who had a mean poker face and dead eyes, but is so strangely cute. to him, the tiny person fussing over an even tinier kitten, and seem to like the wildflowers growing around, was a person he always wanted to be with.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ he was only properly introduced to you during an event committee meeting, as the school decided to give you an important role (he later learned that you got in with a perfect score, and later became known for great achievements). while he was the head of the committee. his world shattered when he realised you don’t even remember meeting him a few months back, but quickly collected himself becaus he knew he was to blame for that.

“everyone, gather around here and introduce yourselves. we have two new member for this year’s committee; our maknae, [your name], and our hard to get sunbae, kang haejoon.”

after a few minutes of introduction and the almost premeditated mingling afterwards was draining on you and it doesn’t take a genius to guess that being all friendly and socialising with others is not your scene. kang haejoon took all of the notes he could take by watching you. although, a bit subtly so that people around him won’t be able to notice. in fact, everyone thought he’s also just looking out for this committee’s maknae.

in truth, although you have never seemed all that outgoing to him, you were actually more shy and timid that he anticipated. despite being the centre of attention yourself, you were quite unaware of how people seem to be drawn to you and always seeking your presence.

as he saw you expertly remove yourself from a conversation between you and a couple second years, he approached you.

“hello! once again, my name is kang haejoon. i heard you’re also a new member for this year, although i am your sunbae, this is also my first time despite them inventing me for three years straight. please take care of me,” he said in impeccable manner.

“ah... yes... nice to meet you sunbae, please take good care of me too.” after a brief confusion reflecting in your eyes, you politely greeted your sunbae who was patiently waiting for a response.

“yes, yes. nice to meet you, although i don’t doubt you’ll take good care of this sunbae, as you already have.” this time, an even more palpable confusion was reflected in you.

after a pregnant pause, you responded, “i’ve taken good care of you?”

they don’t even remember me. haejoon mused.

he’s not hurt by that. he does not have any high expectations in the first place; he would only be a fool to do so when he has not even approached you once after watching you for so long.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ at 27, he met you again after finishing his work and going to a spontaneous dinner with his two best friends. there, he finally asked for your number, despite being still flustered around you. he thought that if he missed this chance, he will just waste away an eternity’s worth of time.

the restaurant was buzzing with background noise, people chattering and the movement of the staff to fulfil everyone’s orders. in the midst of it all, he heard a voice he thought was very familiar.

that voice! urgently looking around, he tried to find the source of the person he heard ordering. once his gaze landed on a figure he’s all too familiar with, his heart raced with anticipation. yes, he should’ve expected to run into you here even with the tiniest bit possibility. after all, this was your favourite italian restaurant near your high school. back then, it was so hard to get a meal with you, always having your guard up and declining every potential situation wherein you guys can be alone.

his friends, who followed his gaze gasped when they saw you, “hey! isn’t that? haejoon-ah, why not talk to them again? go ask for their contact or something!”

“that’s right! ya!! kang haejoon! this might be your last chance~”

“shut up both of you,” he grouched. “they looked so pretty even after all these years... no, have they become a fairy? a god/dess? they really didn’t have to grow up and be so pretty ... what is this, i can’t believe a mere mortal like me was really intent on marrying such a beautiful creature... i can’t,” with his ears going red, he suddenly covered his entire face with both his hands.

“haejoon-ah, they literally looked the same as back then, just go”

“look at this weirdo... at this rate, you’re never getting them.”

with a playful glare, “fine. only because you guys kept forcing me to. i’ll go there since i was forced to.”

“yes, yes. in your wedding just say we also pushed that ourselves.”

standing up and puffing his chest a little, he took a deep breath. striding to where you sat with a couple of people, he tried catching your eyes. once your eyes landed on his, a flash of recognition flashed through them. oh, we’re really at a stage where they instantly recognise me. he giddily thought.

slightly waving with a small smile, he continued to walk towards you while you stood up to meet him. reaching you, he finally greeted, “[name]-yah, it’s been so long, how is my favourite hoobae?”

“sunbae! yes it has, how have you been?” your quiet nature really is the same as ever.

“i see you’re still the same,” voicing his sentiments, you threw him a mock glare.

“what? you’re picking a fight the moment we reunited? how cold of you~” you clicked your tongue, disapproving.

“aigoo~ look at this disrespectful punk, you’re speaking so insolently.”

“eh? you’re the one who told me to drop formalities, you can’t take it back, sunbae”

“that’s right... i guess i spoiled you too much then.”

“what nonsense are you talking about.”

“huh? what do you mean nonsense! i took such good care of you! this ungrateful brat!”

“yes~ yes~ im so thankful to have such a nice sunbae~” you mockingly responded.

“as you should! now, it’s been so long, is your contact still the same? no... you’re the type to not even give out your number...”

“oh? i changed it for awhile since i just moved back in korea, here let me give it to you,” you gestured for him to lend you his phone. doing so, you quickly typed in your number. double checking your own phone to see if you did it correctly.

“cool, i’ll contact you soon and be in touch! stop your bad habit of not replying, will you? i won’t hold you too long since you have company, i’ll talk to you soon instead.”

“oh, yes. sure, sure. whatever. i’ll respond. then see you around, sunbae.” you waved him off, slightly bowing.

he softly touched your back and whispered lowly in your ear, “you guys eat well, i know this is one of your go-to places. it’s my treat. let’s say it’s a thank you for your number,” before you can protest, he’s quickly going back to his own table. leaving you with no choice but to eat the night away with your colleagues. knowing your sunbae’s personality, he won’t change his mind. not when it comes to treating you to a meal, anyway.

important ! had to split this one into two posts instead because i hit character limit ㅠㅡㅠ i guess it’s to be expected since it is 5k+ but it was still a bit . . . anyway, i will be posting the other half later 🤍

[closhelby]

Black Hand.

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: usual Peaky shit

Prompt: none bar the scene itself.

Word Count: 1,796.

Author note: wrote this three fucking times I’m at my wits end! Unsure to make this into a few parts.

——

Y/N woke again, at the crack of dawn, rolling over checking her watch, 5.36AM. This was the usual for her, since leaving Birmingham she could barely sleep past 6am, since the breakdown of her marriage.

It was Christmas morning, the first she was spending with only one of her two children. Charlie, y/n’s eldest son was spending his Christmas with his father this year, since splitting y/n and Tommy regularly had sex behind her boyfriends back, and then she fell pregnant, with her now two year old Harry. However, Tommy wasn’t aware of this child being his, and as far as everyone else was aware it was Roberts child.

Y/n rolled out of bed, and began to wash and get ready for the day ahead. She sat at her dressing table, thinking, as she did regularly, how it would’ve been if they didn’t spit. There was still very clearly tension there, sexual especially. Due to this, y/n cut all interaction with Tommy, whenever they needed to talk over Charlie, she would get nanny’s and maids to travel with him.

Just finishing her makeup, finishing her all off with a spritz of perfume and putting on her watch, which now shown it as 6.56am. Y/n went downstairs, starting to make herself a cup of tea when she was startled with the letterbox chattering as the postman put today’s Mail. She moved over to the door, bending over to pick up the letters, opening the first one to reveal a white card with a black hand on the front.

“Fuck!” Y/n’s heart started beating at a rapid rate, she knew that this meant kill or be killed. She needed to get her and Harry out of there ASAP. They weren’t far behind and they already knew where she lived. She ran back upstairs, grabbing overnight bags and stuffing them with her most valuable items and clothes she could possibly wear before doing the same for Harry. All while trying to be as quiet as she could because she didn’t want to wake Rob.

Y/n ran from the house to the car sat on the front drive, she didn’t even bother to ask a driver. She was going alone. Leaving alone. Without an explanation. Despite the severity of the situation, this was brewing for a long time. The current relationship was a cover up. Y/n accepted the fact that the only man she will ever love will remain Thomas Shelby, and she knew it would be the same for him. And I think that’s why they both didn’t file for a divorce.

Quickly packing the car with things she may need for herself and Harry, she ran back upstairs to collect the sleeping boy from his bed and placed him into the front seat of the car. He continued to sleep throughout the car ride, back to Small Heath. Y/n knew Tommy like the back of her hand, she knew that everyone that is associated with the Shelby name would have been dealt a black hand, and knew the only place they could possibly be safe would be in the polluted streets of Birmingham.

Turning the car onto Watery Lane, as all those childhood memory’s flooded back. From when she ran about with John as a kid, to when her and Ada would get into trouble together in her early teens, all the way to building a large profitable business with her husband, all came flooding to her. A rush of emotion, clearly visible on her face as the car came to a halt outside the once betting den. Y/n rarely had any emotion showing, only Tommy would see that in the many nights they spent alone, but that was the same for both of them. They acted tough to everyone else but vulnerable for each other. The bond they had, partners in crime, was admired, despite them both being gangsters.

Tommy was very clearly heartbroken from the downfall in their relationship, he also believed that y/n was the only woman for him in the long run. But the only way he felt that he could get over that was her under someone else. He turned to Lizzie on the regular, and as y/n still kept in contact with Ada, she knew about this. Y/n was very alike Tommy in this sense, if she needed to find something out, it would always come her way, weather she needed to look for it or not. Ultimately they shared a child together, technically two, but there was still so much love there between the both of them.

“Fucking hell,” y/n muttered before kicking in the door that stood before her. Her two year old son clutching to her chest, still fast asleep as she walked towards the family she still loved dearly. Pol loved her, loved her like her own, but they both had a similar trait, they never backed down. And sometimes like Tommy, they would argue for days on end.

Y/n stood before the table, where all but Tommy sat before her. She quickly scanned the room, noticing a blonde woman, she knew was Linda, but hadn’t met was looking at her with a very foul face on her. Ada on the other hand was smiling, excited to see her best friend after years of being away. Tommy standing to her left, eyes wide wondering why his wife was stood before him, in small Heath, with a young child in her hand.

Pol broke the silence first, “What the fuck are you doing here? Tommy tell ya?”

“No however, since you know, I find out absolutely anything I need to,” y/n spoke directing a foul look to Lizzie who was stood over in the corner, “I have also been dealt a black hand.”

There was a mutter of fuck sakes throughout the room, as they realised this was a bit more real than before. Tommy then started to talk about the issue at hand.

“Why are you starting when Johns not here?”

The room fell cold, distant and all eyes were trying to avoid hers. But Tommy wasn’t, he didn’t avoid her gaze as y/n turned to look at him. He very rarely lied to her, he simply couldn’t get away with it if anything, y/n found out everything.

“Fucking ‘ell Tommy, tell me!”

“John was killed this morning, on his front door step infront of his wife.”

Tears started to form in the once emotionless woman, the room felt as though it was caving in on them. Her legs felt heavy, like she could collapse to the ground at any moment, but her head felt light. She quickly muttered to Tommy, handing the baby over, stumbling back to process what she had just been told. John was before all this, they were best friends since they were about 4. They went all throughout school together, and because y/n dad had passed before he could walk her down the isle, John did.

“Those fuckin’ bastards! Christmas Day! Im going to fucking kill them myself,” y/n screamed in frustration.

“She won’t cope well with this,” Ada spoke quietly enough that the table could hear but y/n couldn’t. Ada approached her, giving her a soft cuddle of comfort. Y/n didn’t cry, she didn’t cry infront of anyone. But she was very close today.

She composed herself, breathing out before standing up, “why did I have to marry into this shit?”

“Why haven’t you divorced him?”

Ada knew the answer, she always had.

They both moved back over to the table, Ada returning to her seat while y/n stood by Tommy’s side. He still stood there holding his own child, without the knowledge of it. He continued to speak about the issues they were currently facing with Luca Changretta, but y/n wasn’t even listening to what he was saying, simply zoning out to how weird her life was. She’s looking at the love of her life while they’re no longer together, holding their second son that he has no clue about.

“Y/n?”

Her head quickly shot up following the direction of the voice. Arthur.

“Hm?”

“Peace or truce?” Tommy spoke.

“Peace”

“Very well. Six peace, two truce.” He quickly handed Harry back over to y/n before heading back upstairs. The group got up and left to do their own thing, while Ada sat at the table waiting for the catch up that was well needed between them both.

“Two seconds, I’m just gonna put Harry up to bed.” Ada nodded in response as y/n made her way upstairs to put Harry to bed. She opened the door to find Charlie sleeping in the small bed, leaning over to put Harry at the back of him, giving both of them a peck on the cheek before turning to see Tommy in the door way.

“Your new boyfriend is the dad? But your not married to him?”

“No I’m not married to him.”

“So you had a child out of wedlock?”

She sighed. She wasn’t going to lie to him anymore, there was enough damage and if she knew she would have to spend the next few months living with him, she needed to get it out there as soon as possible.

“No, I’m married.”

“yes, to me.”

Y/n walked over to him, pulling him into the room and closing the door behind him, aware of the fact this house was full. He took a seat on the small chair in the corner, while y/n stood slightly back from him.

“Remember that last fuck we had. Before I refused to see you.”

He nodded.

“I refused to see you because I was pregnant, and I knew it was yours.”

“Fuck sake y/n.” Tommy spoke, running his hands through his hair.

The room then went silent. The two of them not knowing what to say next, for the first time in years they were speechless.

Y/n decided to break it, “He knows. Rob knows he’s not his, he can see it, but it’s never been mentioned. Harry also knows who you are, I’ve shown him pictures of you that I have.”

Tommy stood up abruptly, making his way over to her. His hands wrapped round her waist as he pulled her closer to him. Y/n was looking, and clearly getting lost in his blue eyes. Tommy leaned in to her, their lips meeting softly,y/n began to kiss back. The feeling this was what they both had longed for. Both of them having sex with others that meant absolutely nothing to them. The bedroom door swings open to reveal Finn stood there, his mouth hung wide.

“A - Ada’s wondering where you are?”

Y/n smiled before pulling out the embrace, muttered a thanks then proceeded to go downstairs. She turns round as she’s on the third stair down, “don’t say a thing Finn,”

[rotshop]

UGHHH this is so bad. (head in hands) LOOK. look. im sleepy tired and i just needed to warm up w/ something and also took exactly One break during this to grab a dirnk !!! shhh.

-

This was by far the worst situation you could've been in. Nevadean winters were a simple fact of how it was, but that didn't take any of the bite from the freezing winds. Some years, it would be a decent one, there would be a fair amount of hot and cold days and little snow. Not entirely pleasant, but you could work with it with in relative ease. Other years though, the season seemed to just throw it all at you, shoving everything off the shelves and toppling dominoes to see how you'd fair. It was the cruelest whenever those years came about.

This though? This had to be a fucking joke.

The others had already been on edge about the mission, as you and your partner didn't exactly have the best relationship. There'd been several attempts to switch things around so that threat would be eliminated, but ultimately they'd proven fruitless. So, with great reluctance they went along with it, though Deimos had been particularly adamant on you all meeting back up as soon as possible. He'd been especially antsy and anxious as the mission had drawn ever closer, voicing the most concerns and posing the most questions to you. He wasn't the greatest at hiding his worries when it came to those he considered close, you admired that about him.

It was almost funny with how right he'd been to worry about it. Not only had there been far ore agents and mags than expected, there was also jack shit worth taking. Obviously, this had been some sort of trap in an attempt to catch you all off guard. It'd worked, evidently, just not in the way they'd probably expected. At some point or another, it was decided you all had to get out and go. Sanford was far too injured to continue on, 2b was too stressed to think straight, and you and Hank had the luck of getting trapped on the other side of base.

You didn't exactly feel too surprised when you'd been yanked up by the back of your shirt and thrown into the back of a truck, door slamming shut seconds after. You could see a hoard of agents and mags alike nearing closer, unable to tear your gaze away from them even as your partner got in the driver's seat. There was a bit of commotion from them, barking into the comms. about needing to get out and go. You were still too distracted even when they'd begun to speed off, and far too distracted to hear Deimos' confused shouting get cut.

You could tell it was coming, somewhere in between all the pre-existing stress and dread. It was like your own version of getting a headache shortly before it storms, except all it did was tell you you'd be royally fucked for the next day or few. It was always a little too hard for you to decipher exactly how long it would be, a little too fuzzy of a reading for you to say anything accurate on the matter. All you could tell was that it was coming soon, it wouldn't stop just for your less than friendly company.

-

Three days. You'd been stuck driving out here for three days now.

Originally, the plan was to drive off until the agents would give up, turn around, and go back to base to find the others. It'd started off easy enough, the agents chasing after you seeming to lose interest in the hunt after a good while, turning and leaving. You weren't sure why at the moment, but the action had shifted something uncomfortably in your chest. It just felt too easy, too convenient.

You'd soon figured it out when the storm had started to kick in. It didn't seem too bad at first, a minor inconvenience that drew a little grumble and a lean forward in their seat from your companion. Then, it'd worsened and worsened. By this point, neither of you knew where you were. Sure, the anti-aahw had been all over Nevada- but that was just of the Nevada they knew about. It wouldn't be far fetched to suggest you'd both gotten turned around and were now god knows where.

Eventually, it was decided there was no progress that could be made here. You'd both have to either hope for a place to stay or that the car wouldn't fair too uncomfortably. Which, considering the lack of space in it and you with far too little energy to get into an argument, the first would be the blessing of the two. It wasn't too long until your quiet prayers from the back seat had been answered, the faintest of outlines among the storm showing some form of shelter. You could already feel exhaustion settling in, far too quickly for your own comfort. By the time Hank had pulled over to walk in, he'd had to reach into the backseat and tug you by the collar of your shirt with an impatient noise, a gentle encouragement laced with the threat of dragging you out.

You were sure you couldn't have pulled your legs further to your chest than you already had. Your spine was already beginning to set with soon-to-be-aches and cramps as you curled into yourself. You'd attempted to keep yourself as taut as possible, not wanting to look as pathetic as you felt in that moment, half-shaking on the cold hard floor of some abandoned complex. Hank had gone off a while ago, leaving you in the lobby to go look for a room to stay in- a room for him to stay in.

You'd lost track of time, too focused on trying to keep it all together as your mind threatened to go blank and shut down. It was the worst when it was like this, where you could only lay and hope for exhaustion to kick you into sleep at one point or another. Your limbs all felt heavy with weight, uncomfortable with just how impossible it seemed to move them. Every part of your body felt locked up, stuck and stiff how it was when you'd dropped down to the floor. You were at least glad you'd fallen to face the door, able to see the snow falling from your position.

Sure, it was the cause of your current estrangement. Yes, it meant you were stuck with the man who hated your guts with a burning passion. Despite all that, it was still pretty. It was surreal to see the sky something other than a burning red, though that oddness was fully welcomed if it meant a break from that damned color.

You'd been snapped out of your daze by a light nudge to your back, you attempted to summon up a sound of acknowledgement- coming up with nothing. The lack of a response earned another, rougher nudge, shoving against your spine uncomfortably. You'd jumped away from the contact with a little mix of a whine and hiss, head jerking back to meet the eyes of your 'assailant.' Red lenses met your gaze, looming over you from your place on the ground.

"Get off the floor and come with me," it wasn't a request. He'd always been especially bossy with you, a little colder and more detached from you. It didn't take a genius to tell he was on less than stellar terms with you.

You didn't have time to stagger up onto your feet, a hand finding its way to the collar of your shirt to yank you up once more. The world spun around you in a haze as you stumbled forward, attempting to re-balance yourself as best as you could in the short breath you were given. Apparently, it hadn't worked well, you ending up crashing into Hank in the process. He'd barely stirred at the movement, still as a statue despite your disturbance. Distantly, you'd noticed how his hands had moved to your back, keeping you upright. You'd also noticed how they weren't a bruising grip on your form-

"....walk?"

You'd blinked. You had no clue what he'd even asked, did he ask anything in the first place? I mean, you could've totally just imagined it. Maybe you were just dreaming already, it happens sometimes..

"I don't ask questions just for you to not answer. Can you walk?"

You'd opened your mouth to speak, shutting it shortly after. Your tongue was like lead in your mouth and your voice seemed to have gone for a walk. You weren't going to play the chances of you not answering again. Instead, you'd simply given a little nod. He was..surprisingly warm, in all honesty. You found yourself leaning further into him, unconsciously nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck.

He seemed satisfied by the answer, giving a little grunt of acknowledgement before pulling away. You'd caught yourself before you'd fallen, sleep snapping from you momentarily again as reality came back. By the time you found some sort of feelings in your legs again, he was already down the hall, not waiting for you by any means. You were grateful for the little burst of energy that'd found you, stumbling after him quickly.

You were reaching for his arm before you could really even process it, holding onto him once more in a moment of unconscious indulgence. You missed the little curious glance he gave you, and the way he'd pulled his arm (and subsequently you) a little closer to him. Admittedly, you leaning onto him so much did force him to slow down a bit, much to his chagrin. He didn't make any comment about it though. You didn't either, happy to just stay close as you just barely stayed awake enough to continue walking with him.

-

The mattress felt far more comfortable than the floor.

"Better than laying on tile, isn't it?" Came the sarcastic question.

Nevermind, fuck this mattress.

You'd given a little hum, stirring a bit as you got comfortable. You were still curled up as small as you could, some sort of attempt to salvage what little heat you had. The thin fleece blankets didn't offer much relief from the elements, serving more as an empty pressure laying on you. Despite that though, it seemed you were given some mercy, as you were just edging into unconsciousness.

"I'll be in the next room over so don't be loud, alright?"

You'd nodded slowly. There was a pause. There was an abnormally long pause, to be exact. After a few breaths you could hear the clinking of metal and the shuffling of cloth. Curiously, you'd poked your head up, looking at the man over your shoulder in confusion. He'd met your gaze, pausing for the briefest of moments as he tugged his jacket off.

"What're you doin?..." you'd managed, words slurring together drearily.

He'd given a short 'tsk,' continuing his previous ministrations as he answered. "What I'm doing is making sure you don't go into some little coma on me, I'm not carrying your ass around if you pass out that hard. That's on you."

You'd given a little displeased hum at his words, narrowing your eyes slightly at him. He didn't react. Laying your head back down, you'd sighed in some sort of content, peaceful enough in the deteriorating room. You could feel yourself falling asleep, thought slipping from you as you finally found some sot of rest.

Just before you really fell unconscious though, you could feel the weight of a jacket being draped over you. You could've sworn you felt a hand settle on your arm for a moment, tracing a few shapes and lines idly before reluctantly pulling away. You were so sure you heard the faintest of 'Goodnight,'s before the door clicked shut. You could have just been hearing things or dreaming them up, though. You'd just have to ask him about it in the morning.

[phoneybeatlemania-bit-the-dust]

How about 4 or 18 for the drabble/ficlet thing? Your choice!

18. Do you ever think we should just stop this?

Thank you so much for the ask, I know you asked it awhile ago (so im sorry it took so long!) but at least its finished, so that's something. Its a bit awkward as im still working on getting into the groove of writing, but I think its okay, and hopefully you’ll like it!! <3

~~~

Sometime in the seventies…

“Johnny…d’you ever think we should stop this”

“Stop what?” John replied, half asleep, as he shuffled Paul closer into his arms.

“Y’know…this.” Paul paused, but after receiving nothing but silence from John, he continued “This affair; sneaking behind everyone’s backs. We’ve just been on and off again for the past however many years-”

“And being “off” didn’t work for us, remember?”

They were in some hotel bed, lost in the damp streets of New York. 

“Yeah, I remember…”

*** 

It had all started again with that visit to Johns, after Linda had turned to John and asked him “Do you miss England much John?” 

“Frankly, I miss Paris.” He hadn’t even turned to even look at Paul, but both knew too well the subtext of that statement. 

***

Finally, they had a second alone together.

“What the fuck was that John?” Paul had half-whispered, so that none of the others in the next room could here they’re arguing.

Underwhelmingly, John retorted with “Hm?” 

“Y’know what…all that Paris shite”

John could hardly contain a smile, “Well, I miss Paris. It’s a nice city!”

There was a silence until Paul broke it with his realisation, “You’re gonna be difficult about this, aren’t you?”, then shaking his head, he added with an air of light-heartedness, “You’ve always been difficult.” 

“And you’ve always loved that about me, eh Macca?”

“I haven’t” he replied defensively though smiling. “What did you mean with that Paris comment then? Don’t be difficult for once and just tell me, eh.” 

John swallowed, a little anxious he replied, “I want to be with you. Again.”

“Johnny, don’t start this again-”

“Well why the fuck not Paul? I miss you, you miss me, so why don’t we just say fuck it and be together”

“Because!” he replied frustratedly, “I have Linda, and you have Yoko, or May, or whoever the fuck you’re with these days! I have a family – and I can’t risk sacrificing everything and everyone in my life just so that you can string me along for a few good fucks when you’re down and out.” He paused, then insisted, “I love you Johnny, you can convince yerself I don’t mean that, but I do. But I just can’t waste another year having an affair with you. Were in a good place, the two of us – we don’t argue like we used to…

And I know you – you’re self-sabotaging, and so just when things are going good for us, you’ll cheat on me, or you’ll leave me, or you’ll insist im leaving you when I just want to be close to you.”

“Well, Dr. Freud…” John joked, then taking a few slow steps closer to him, and cupping Pauls hands in his own, “I won’t this time…”

But Paul was quick to interrupt with, “Ive gotta be honest, I dont believe you mate. I mean I can’t believe you, can I Johnny?” He asked rhetorically. 

John remained silent, in a moment of self-reflection – but Paul had untangled his hands from the others, and had already turned around ready to leave. 

But with a total shift in tone, John erupted with, “D’you know you were never perfect either, now were ye Paul!” Paul turned around to look at him, he had a stern look in his eyes. “I mean, how was I ever meant to believe anything you’d ever bloody said when you were always so fucking inhibited!

Used to drive me insane, never being able to tell what you were thinking.” His tone, though still aggressive, was getting weaker with every word. 

Paul’s look had softened, but he was slow to respond with, “Johnny…” He took a step closer to him, “Johnny, could you really make something like this work?”

John simply sighed. He recognised in that distressed look of Pauls that, no, he probably could not make this work; he recognised that he’d never made any relationship work, because he’s never allowed one to work; he recognised that he could be marinated with all the love in the universe, and he’d still convince himself that everyone would ultimately abandon him. 

But perhaps most significantly, he recognised that he was a lost cause – therapy won’t change shit, because he’s never going to be able to dust away that spiders-web of self-loathing that’s been building up in his lungs and in his heart and in his head his whole life. He is Gods lonely man.*

However, before he could articulate this recognition, he was taken by surprise when Paul took a step closer, grasped him by his hips, and enclosed their lips with a kiss. It was a kiss guided by a plea: a plea to John to just allow Paul to love him this time, forget self-sabotage, leave destruction in the past. But this kiss was also tainted with a plea to either let love in, or let him the fuck out. He really cannot survive another relationship with John if it’s going to consist of a cycle of renewal, abandonment, renewal, abandonment, renewal, abandonment etc. 

They broke away, Pauls hands still urgently grasping his shirt. They looked into one another’s eyes, because while they weren’t so great with verbal communication, they always had a way of reading each other’s mind. They were both so desperate, and yet so fucking tired. 

“Paul…I don’t know if I can do it.” Defeated, Paul turned his head away from Johns gaze, though his hands remained tightly clenched to Johns shirt. “I think…I think I’m just meant to be alone; I don’t want to be, but ive done it all! Therapy, drugs, Jesus – whatever it is that’s meant to make mad men sane…has never worked for me.”

Paul turned to look back at him; staring urgently into his eyes, he asked “Would you try? Would you try to let this work for us?”

“I’ve been trying me whole bloody life Paul. Or at least, since I met you.”

“Since you met me…” Paul absent-mindedly muttered.

They were silent for the moment, until Paul blurted out softly, “Y’know, I have always loved you. What you were saying about me a minute ago there, bein’ “inhibited” and that – well I know ive always confused you a bit…always been an enigma. 

But I have always loved you. D’you know that Johnny?”

“I know…” he said unconvincingly in response, so quietly even Paul who was mere centimetres from his lips could hardly hear him. 

Nervously, John pulled Pauls hips closer to his own, and pressed his lips to Pauls. It wasn’t so much a kiss of passion, but more so the calm after the storm. Still, it was a much needed calm that each melted into so sincerely. 

Maybe this could work – then again, it probably won’t. But do they have any choice but to try?

*A line I stole from the movie Taxi Driver (1975)

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Eccentricity [Chapter 14: Love Keeps The Monsters From Our Door] [Series Finale]

A/N: Thank you for your encouragement, enthusiasm, laughter, rants, screeches of anguish, and unapologetic thirsting for “sexy undead Italian man” Joseph Francis Mazzello. I hope you love this conclusion more than Baby Swan loves pineapple pizza. 💜

Series Summary: Potentially a better love story than Twilight?

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: “Til I Die” by Parsonsfield. (The #1 song I associate with this fic!)

Chapter Warnings: Language.

Word Count: 7.7k.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @bramblesforbreakfast @maggieroseevans @culturefiendtrashqueen @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @escabell @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee @deacyblues @tensecondvacation @brianssixpence @some-major-ishues @haileymorelikestupid @youngpastafanmug @simonedk @rhapsodyrecs​

Mercy

We have to stay in the Vladivostok palace until her transformation is complete, and I hate it.

The floors are cold and sterile and every clang of noise ricochets off them like a bullet. The earth outside is stripped bare and hibernal. There is no green to interrupt the bleakness of the sky, the cruel absence of color: no spruces or hemlocks or bigleaf maples, no evergreen forests, no verdant fields, only a grey that bleeds from the sky in sheets of hail and driving rain. This land is a stranger. So many of the faces, too, are strangers, although they try. Honora sits with me—her large dark eyes, like mirrors of mine, polished and wet with aching pity—and braids my hair. Morana invites me to bake homemade bread with her. Austin tries to make me smile. Cato visits me as much as he can, because he feels responsible; or maybe he would do it anyway, maybe lessening suffering is as instinctual to him as bloodshed is to so many of our kind. And when Cato is with me, I do feel a little better, like my story might belong to somebody else, like it’s a name I can’t quite remember, like it’s a transitory moment of déjà vu I can catch glimpses of but never touch. And yet, still, I send him away.  

I don’t want to be with Cato. It’s painful for him to be around me, I can see that. It’s painful for Rami, and for Ben, and for Joe, and for Lucy and Scarlett. It’s even painful for the Irish Wolfhounds that Cato found locked up for safekeeping in Larkin’s study; they skulk around the palace vigilantly but leave great swaths of uninterrupted space around me like open water. So I conjure up a mask of brave, hopeful acceptance and wear it everywhere I go.

Joe says very little, never leaves the girl he calls Baby Swan’s side, dabs her scorching skin with washcloths soaked in ice water and murmurs in sympathy when she screams through the unconsciousness, from beneath the ocean of fire we all know so well. He nods off sometimes, snatching minutes of sleep like fireflies in a jar, before jolting awake to make sure her heart is still beating. When Ben isn’t checking on them, he’s with Cato, helping to draw up plans for the future, reminiscing about the past with slick eyes and clinking midnight glasses of whiskey. Scarlett sprawls across the desk in what was once Larkin’s study and spends hours on the phone with Archer as she gazes up at the ceiling, telling him how to care for the farm animals and the garden, reassuring him that we’ll be home soon, whispering things to him that I try not to hear; and I know she wouldn’t want me to anyway. Lucy weeps delicate, ceaseless tears as she perches on the staircase landing and Rami entombs her in his arms, never having to ask what she needs from him. And I wander meaninglessly through the echoing, unfamiliar hallways like a moon without a planet.

I know what they all think about me, perhaps even Rami, for I keep it buried as deep as all skeletons should be: that I’m irrevocably kind, effortlessly forgiving. That I’m as incapable of bitterness as I am of aging. But they’re wrong. It’s a choice, and it always has been, ever since a late-November dusk in 1864 when madness eclipsed mercy. Every day I choose whether to surrender to the beckoning, malignant hatred that lurks in the back of my bedroom closet, in the dusty and ill-lit loft of the barn roped with cobwebs, in the twilight tree line of the western hemlocks crawling with shadows that whisper through fanged teeth. Every day I decide whether to become a monster. And it has never been harder to remember why I don’t.

My future is unimaginable. The nights are endless. I feel black, razored seeds of what I am horrified must be bitterness burrowing beneath my skin and taking root there. I am consumed by infected, fruitless questions that I can’t silence: Why Gwilym? Why Arthur? Why Eliza and Charlotte? Why is it always fire?

The first words that Gwilym ever spoke to me, as I unraveled from unconsciousness under a grove of sycamore trees with smoke still clinging to my unscarred skin, rattle around in my skull like windchimes beneath thunderous skies. His voice was colored with an accent I couldn’t place, and yet it sounded like home: You’re in a dark place right now. But you don’t have to stay there.

That might have been true once. That might have been true in the ruinous autumn of 1864. But now I can’t find my way out.

Seventy-three hours after our arrival in this barren corner of the world, Charlie Swan’s daughter  wakes up as a vampire. Her heart is perfectly still, her skin faultless, her senses sharp, her mind as impenetrable as ever; at least, that’s what Lucy says when she finds me. And Lucy tugs at my hand, wearing her first smile in days, insisting that I have to come meet the newest member of our coven, to welcome her. I don’t know how to tell Lucy that I’m afraid I don’t have it in me to love this girl, that I don’t have it in me to love anyone but ghosts. And yet—compliantly, yieldingly, expecting nothing but disappointment in the monster I have become—I follow her.

The door is already open to the Swan girl’s room; chattering, beaming vampires flood in and out like the tides. I step inside. And I see the way that Joe looks at her, the way that Ben does; and all those seeds that I had feared might be bitterness blossom into nothing but open air.

It’s Not A Fucking Wedding (A.K.A. 13.5 Months Later)

The ocean is a universe. Its arms are not ever-expanding, spiraling galaxies of suns and planets and nebulae and black holes, this is true; its belly is not a vacuum of inhospitable oblivion, its bones are not invisible strings of gravity, its language is not a silence older than starlight, older than eternity. But the ocean is a universe nonetheless, its borders tucked neatly around the seven continents, slumbering there until the next hurricane or tsunami or ice age comes conquering; and inevitably equilibrium is restored—like defibrillator paddles to a heart, like naloxone to an addict’s blood—and our two worlds can coexist side by side once again.  

The ocean’s arms are sighing waves, bubbling and brisk, grasping and retreating in the same breath. Its belly is swollen with life from immense blue whales down to swarming clouds of single-celled, sun-hungry phytoplankton. Its language is ancient whispers; not parched and blistering and brittle sounds like the desert’s but cool, serene, supple, engulfing. And I can hear them all, if I listen closely enough. I can hear the sentient whistling of orcas, the breaking of waves against rocks, the scrabbling of sand crabs beneath the earth, the gruff distant barks of sea lions, the rustling of evergreen pine needles in the breeze. And I understand now why it was always so easy for vampires to be introspective, to lapse into thoughtful, unhurried silences. I could imagine spending decades just sitting here with my knees tucked to my chest and my hair whipping in the brackish wind, watching the seasons roll by like a wheel.

Joe was coming back from the gravel parking lot. I turned to watch him: red U Chicago hoodie, messy dark auburn-ish hair, a pizza box clasped in his hands. The GrubHub delivery driver was returning to his car with the toothiest of grins.

“Buon appetito!” Joe announced, dramatically presenting me with the pizza box. It had become our post-finals tradition each semester: pizza at La Push beach, half-pepperoni, half-pineapple.

“Grazie, sexy undead Italian man. Your accent is getting so good!”

“I know, right?! I’m on a twelve-day Duolingo streak. I can’t let that little green owl dude down.”

“I’m impressed, I’ll admit it. I gotta brush up on my Welsh. Why’s the GrubHub driver so cheery?”

“I tipped him $500.”

I smiled, opening the box and lifting out a semi-warm slice of pineapple pizza. Elastic strands of mozzarella cheese stretched like rubber bands until they snapped. “Aww, really?”

Joe plopped down onto the cool, damp sand beside me. “No. I lied. We’re actually having a torrid love affair.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “How could you possibly have time for all that?” Between school, business ventures, family activities, and me, Joe was very rarely unoccupied. And he preferred it that way.

“I’m so glad you asked. I’m very speedy, if you recall. And that’s just one of the exclusive services I offer. I am a man of many talents. I make people’s wildest dreams come true. Who am I to deny the GrubHub delivery man the wonderland that is my spindly, annoying body?”  

“You are the fastest,” I said, winking.

“Oh shut up! I mean, uh, uhhh, silenzio!” He pointed his slice of pepperoni pizza at me reproachfully. “That’s not what I meant. I’m not the fastest at everything.”

“Whatever you say, mob guy.”

He lunged for me, pinned me down in the crumbling sand, both of us laughing wildly as the crusts of our pizza slices bounded off and were snatched up by diving, screeching seagulls. He growled with mock savagery, braced his hips against mine, kissed his way from the corner of my jaw to my lips. That oh-so-familiar commanding, craving ache for him came roaring to the surface; and now there was no bittersweet edge to it, no inescapable backdrop of lambent numbers ticking down from five or ten or fifteen years to zero. Now there was only the calm, unurgent promise of forever.

“Joe—!”

“You have besmirched my honor, Baby Swan. I am left with no recourse but to refresh your clearly flawed memory and prove you wrong.”

“Public indecency? That’s illegal, sir.”

“Okay, you gotta stop stealing my catchphrases. It’s extremely difficult for me to come up with new ones. I’m almost a hundred years old, you know.”

“Alright, I guess you’re not bad in bed for a basically-centenarian.”

He smiled down at me, his dark eyes alight, the wind tearing through his hair, one palm resting on my forehead, uncharacteristically quiet.

“What?” I asked, worried.

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m just really glad we’re a thing.”

“You better be. You’re kind of stuck with me now. You’ve stolen my virtue, you’ve made me fall in love with your entire demented family, you’ve forced your torturous immortality upon me. I’m not going anywhere. Unless you ever stop funding my pineapple pizza addiction, of course.”

Joe chuckled as he climbed off me and took my hand in his, pulling me upright. “It’s absolutely ridiculous, by the way. Your insistence on being a sort-of vegetarian. It’s embarrassing. You’re the wimpiest vampire ever. You’re a disgrace to the coven.”

“I eat animals!” I objected.

“Yeah, when you have to.” And Joe was right: I steered clear of flesh outside of the two or three times a week when I hunted. For environmental sustainability reasons, I mostly consumed deer or rabbits; although the very occasional shark was my guilty pleasure. Joe gnawed on his second slice of pizza and peered out into the overcast, dusky horizon, wiping crumbs from his stubbled chin with the back of his hand. “We only have one more of these left,” he said at last, a little sadly. “One more finals season at Calawah University. One more celebratory dinner at La Push.”

“We’ll just have to get used to a new view. Pizza by the Chicago River, maybe.”

Joe looked over at me, thoughtful again, smiling. He had received his acceptance letter to the University of Chicago three weeks ago. I got mine eight days later. “It won’t be hard for you to leave Forks?”

“It will be. Once upon a time I didn’t think that was possible, but I will miss Forks. And not just because of Charlie and Archer and Jessica and Angela and all the Lees. But it was hard to leave Phoenix, and I’m sure one day it will be hard to leave Chicago. Just because change is hard doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do.”

Joe nodded introspectively. “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”

“Don’t quote classic rock songs at me, mixtapes boy.”

“You love my mixtapes,” he teased, circling his left arm around my waist, pulling me in closer, touching his lips to my forehead. Mint and pine and starlight sank into my lungs like an anchor through the surf. “And that saying actually goes all the way back to Seneca, my dear.”

“Don’t tell me he’s still philosophizing in some cloudy corner of the world somewhere.”

“Not to my knowledge. Although that’s an intriguing thought. We need more famous vampires. Caligula would have made for very interesting conversation. Lincoln, Napoleon, Cleopatra, Shakespeare, Dante...I guess it’s possible that anyone is still around. Maybe we should turn Meat Loaf. You know, for the good of posterity.”

“Is it not enough that they’re already cursed with student debt and global warming?”

Joe cackled, took my face in his palms, kissed each of my cheeks one after the other, then nudged my nose with his. “You ready to go, Baby Swan? I suspect we’re expected to participate in some holiday festivities tonight.”

“I’m ready,” I agreed. We threw our leftover pizza to the seagulls, disposed of the grease-spotted cardboard box, and walked back to my 1999 Honda Accord with our pulseless hands intertwined.

The evergreen trees along Routh 110 fled by beneath a sky freckling with stars. Sharp winter air poured in through the open windows. And I could feel that it was cold, in the same way that I could feel the warmth on Forks’ rare sweltering days; but there was no discomfort that accompanied that knowledge. Pain only came when the sky was unincumbered by thick clouds churning in off the Pacific, and then it felt something like staring into the sun had as a human. Sunglasses helped, but the surest remedy was avoidance, was surrender. And what an inconsequential price to pay for forever.

“Wait,” I said, spying the mailbox that marked the start of the Lees’ driveway. “They still deliver mail on Christmas Eve, right?”

“Uh, I think so, why...?” And then he remembered. “Oh, yeah, let’s check!”

I pulled up beside the mailbox and Joe leaned out, returning to his seat with a mountain of Christmas cards and business correspondence and advertisements from Costco and Sephora. He sifted through them until he found a single white envelope from the University of Chicago Pritzker School of Medicine. It was addressed to a Mr. Benjamin August Hardy. Joe held it up to show me as we drove down the driveway, the Lee house coming into view and ornamented with a frankly excessive amount of multicolored string lights and inflatable reindeer.

“Oh my god!” I squealed, drumming the steering wheel.

“You want to be the one to give it to him?”

“Are you serious?! Yeah, can I?”

Joe passed the envelope to me as I parked my geriatric Honda, which Archer had pledged to keep alive as long as physically possible. In return, Ben let him and Scarlett borrow the Aston Martin Vantage no less than once a week. I dashed out of the car, up the steps of the front porch, and into the house that bubbled over with the sounds of metallic kitchen clashes and frenetic voices and Wham!’s Last Christmas.

“Ben?!” I shouted.

“Hi, honey!” Mercy called from the living room, where she and Lucy were putting the final touches on Scarlett’s gown. Scarlett was playing the part of semi-willing victim, wearing gold heels and an impatient smirk and her hair out of the way in a milkmaid braid; her train of vivid red lace billowed across the hardwood floor. From the couch, Archer and Rami were playing Mario Kart on the big-screen tv and nibbling their way through a tray of homemade gingerbread cookies.

“Oh wow,” I said, clutching the envelope to my chest, mesmerized. I kept waiting for Scarlett to start looking like a normal person to me, and it never happened. Tonight, in the glow of the flameless candles and kaleidoscopic Christmas lights and draped in lace the color of pomegranate seeds, she was Persephone: a goddess of resurrection, a face that death himself could not pass by unscathed. “You’ve outdone yourself, Lucy. Seriously.”

“One day I’m going to get you out of those thrift shop sweaters,” Lucy threatened me, placing a pin in the fabric at Scarlett’s waist.

“Yeah, okay. Let me know when that shows up in one of your visions.”

“Bitch,” Lucy flung back, snickering, knowing how improbable that was. I still appeared in her visions extremely infrequently, and then only when I happened to be standing next to whoever the premonition was actually about.

“Language, dear,” Mercy tutted, inspecting the hem of Scarlett’s gown.

Joe arrived beside me, his arms still full of mail. “ScarJo, I almost didn’t recognize you! Why do you have, like, no cleavage or fishnets or thigh slits?”

“Why do you have like no eyelashes?” Scarlett replied. “See, I can ask unnecessary and invasive questions too.”

Joe frowned, wounded. “What’s wrong with my eyelashes?”

“Lucy, darling, I think it’s just a tad uneven on this side,” Mercy said, showing her. “Maybe by half an inch...?”

“No, seriously, what’s wrong with my eyelashes?!”

Mercy replied distractedly: “Nothing, honey, you’re perfect just the way you are.”

“Mom!” Joe groaned.

“It really is gorgeous,” Mercy marveled as Lucy flitted around her to investigate the hem situation. “And so Christmasy. So perfect for the season. Scarlett, dear, you were right after all, and I’m so sorry for doubting you. I’d just never heard of a red wedding dress before.”

“Mom, it’s not a fucking wedding!” Scarlett exclaimed, for probably the thirtieth time since Thanksgiving. “It’s a nonbinding, informal celebration of an egalitarian romantic partnership. Will somebody please inform this woman that it’s not a wedding?!”

“Yes, yes, of course, whatever you want, sweetheart,” Mercy conceded dreamily.

Joe pointed to Archer. “Isn’t he supposed to not see the dress until the day of or something?”

“What a great question!” Archer replied, still deeply invested in Mario Kart. “You see, that would be the case if this was a wedding. However, I’ve been informed in no uncertain terms that it is most definitely not.”

Scarlett grinned triumphantly at Joe. “There you have it.”

She might snap petulantly, and she might complain, but Scarlett wouldn’t be doing this if she didn’t want to; we were all intimately familiar with the futility of trying to force Scarlett into anything. The not-wedding, as improbable as it seemed, had been her idea from the start. And she wasn’t doing it for herself. She wasn’t even doing it for Archer. Scarlett was doing it for her mother.

The first six months had been hell for Mercy. She didn’t resent me, as I had feared she might; Mercy made that clear, and Rami confirmed it. But she was gutted. She wouldn’t speak of Gwil, wouldn’t listen to us talk about him, locked every photograph of him away in dark drawers, wandered around with a remote, uncanny, unseeing smile until she walked straight into walls; and then she would blink inanely up at them, as if they had dropped out of the sky rather than been built by her own hands. She baked hundreds of cakes and almost never slept. She told us she was fine every time we asked, which was more or less constantly. But on the very rare occasions when she was left alone, Mercy would unfailingly end up in the field behind the Lee house, gazing out into the forest of western hemlock trees with tears snaking silently down her cheeks, the muted light of the cloud-covered setting sun flickering red and furious on her face like wildfire.

And then one afternoon, a package had arrived from Arviat, Canada, where Cato and the rest of the surviving Draghi had relocated shortly after the rebellion at Vladivostok. It was five feet tall and another three wide, and what we found after carefully peeling away all those layers of foam padding and packing tape was a portrait of Gwilym so skillfully painted that it could have been mistaken for a photograph. Mercy had stared at it for a long time—ignoring Lucy’s attempts to guide her away, deaf to any of our concerns—until she at last picked up the portrait herself and said, quite evenly: “I think we should hang it in the living room, don’t you?”

Things had been better since then—very, very gradually, and yet unmistakably—and Gwil’s portrait remained mounted above the living room couch like a watchman, his eyes sparkling and blue, his faint smile stoic and fond and omniscient. But even in the wake of Mercy’s continued improvement, none of us kids were about to risk another agonizingly despondent Christmas. So the solution was obvious. We would keep Mercy preoccupied with what thrilled her more than absolutely anything else: the pseudo-weddings of her children. Rami and Lucy had already secretly volunteered to go next year...and after that, who knew? And there was one other thing that was making Mercy’s burden a little lighter these days.

Charlie sauntered into the living room, wearing an apron covered in cartwheeling Santas and wiping white dust like snow—powdered sugar? flour? baking soda?—from his ungainly hands. He was palpably proud. “The sugar cookies are officially in the oven. And I managed to fit them all on one baking sheet, isn’t that great?! Cuts down on dishes!”

“Why, yes, I suppose it does!” Mercy said, alarm dawning in her eyes. Had my beloved father placed the globs of dough too close together? Would we end up with one hideous, giant monster-cookie? Only time would tell. Providentially, Archer and Joe could be counted on to eat just about anything.

Joe sniffed the air, his forehead crinkling. “What’s burning?”

“Nothing should be burning,” Mercy replied, almost defensive, forever protective of Charlie and all of his profound, incurably human imperfections. Sometimes I thought that she preferred him that way, that he was a link to a simpler world in the same way I had once been, that he was a puddle of memory she could drop into, that maybe he wasn’t so unlike her first husband Arthur. “Not yet, anyway. The cookies need at least ten to twelve minutes at 350.”

“Wait, 350?!” Charlie exclaimed, horrorstruck. “I thought you said 450!”

“Oh, this is tragic,” Scarlett said.  

“I can fix it!” Mercy trilled buoyantly, breezing off to the kitchen as Charlie followed after her with a fountain of apologies. She shushed them away affectionately, patting his chest with her soft plump hands, chuckling about how luckily they had fire extinguishers stowed away in almost every closet just in case. And there were other reasons for that besides Charlie’s perilous baking attempts, but he didn’t know them. Now the record player was belting out Queen’s Thank God It’s Christmas.  

Archer lost another round in Mario Kart and exhaled a great, mournful sigh. “Hey, Baby Swanpire, can you do something about this guy?” He nodded to Rami. “This is criminal. It’s nowhere near a fair fight. He knows every freaking time I’m about to toss a banana peel.”

Rami smirked guiltily up at me from the couch, not bothering to deny it.

“Do you mind?” I asked him.

“Not at all,” Rami replied. “I want to show this loser I can beat him even without the benefit of mega-cool extrasensory superpowers.”

“Rude!” Archer cried.

“So rude,” Scarlett agreed, smiling.

“Okay, here we go.” I sat down beside Rami, still holding Ben’s envelope in my right hand, and laid my left against Rami’s cheek. And I felt a fistful of numbness—like instant peace, like milk-white Novocain—pass from my skin into his, rolling into his skull, deadening whatever telepathic livewires had been ignited there in the August of 1916. The effect would last anywhere from thirty minutes to a few hours; and it worked on every vampire I’d met so far.

“Whoa, trippy,” Rami murmured. “It’s still weird, every single time.” He peered drowsily around the room. “It’s...so...quiet?! You guys really live like this? No one is constantly bombarding you with sexual fantasies or romantic pining or depressive inner monologues? How do you function?! Now I’m alone with my own thoughts, that’s actually worse!”

“Hurry up and beat him while he’s all freaked out and vulnerable,” Scarlett told Archer.

Archer laughed, picking up his Nintendo 64 controller, radiant with the promise of vengeance. “Yes ma’am.”

“Any good mail?” Lucy asked Joe.

“Yeah. Coupons and a ton of Christmas cards from random people. The vet sent us one with alpacas on it, so that’s cute. Oh, and here’s one from our favorite Canadians.”

Joe held up the card so we could all see. The picture on the front showed Cato and Honora sitting on a large velvet, forest green couch with a hulking Christmas tree illuminated in the background. The others were arranged around them: Austin, Max, Ksenia, Charity, Araminta, Akari, Morana, Phelan, Aruna, Adair, Zora, Sahel, and a few new faces I couldn’t name yet. They were all wearing matching turtleneck sweaters. And every single one of them was smiling.

Joe cleared his throat theatrically and read the text on the inside of the card:

“Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

(Oh, and Scarlett, congratulations on your not-marriage.)

- Cato Douglass Freeman”

“That bastard,” Scarlett muttered.

Rami offered me his controller. He had just slipped on a banana peel and rocketed off a cliff. “You want a turn?”

“No, thanks though. I have to talk to Ben. Is he around?”

Rami shrugged ruefully. “I would help, but my brain is temporarily broken.”

Scarlett rolled her eyes, taking a gingerbread cookie from the tray and biting into it as Lucy batted crumbs from the red lace dress, exasperated. “I think he’s out in the hot tub.”

“Cool. I shall return.”

Joe took my spot on the couch as I departed, shoveling cookies into his mouth, seizing Rami’s controller and kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

I opened the door to the back porch, and frigid December air rushed in like an uninvited guest. The field was coated with a thin layer of snow, the animals safe and warm in the barn, the garden slumbering. And in the spring and summer, when blossoms of a dozen different varieties came open beneath the drizzling grey skies, Mercy’s calla lilies didn’t bother my allergies at all. Nothing did anymore. Ben was indeed in the hot tub, puffing on his vape pen, wearing only a beanie hat and swim trunks.

“What flavor is that cartridge?” I asked as I approached. “Gummy bear?”

“Close. Strawberry doughnut.”

“Ohhhh, yum!” Ben passed me the vape pen, and I took a drag as I kicked off my boots and sat near him on the rim of the hot tub, slipping my bare feet beneath the steaming, roiling water. Then I handed his vape pen back. “So. Guess what I have for you.”

“Uh.” He glanced at the envelope. “Jury duty.”

“Better.”

“Someone I hate has jury duty.”

I flipped the envelope around so he could see the University of Chicago logo on the front.

“Oh god,” Ben moaned.

“Don’t you want to see what it says?”

“Not really,” he admitted, grimacing.

“Come on, Ben. Open it.”

“Nah.”

“Why not?!”

Ben sighed. “Look, if I open it and it’s bad news, it’s gonna make Christmas weird. Rami will know. They’ll all know. They’ll all feel bad for me and it’ll be pathetic and depressing and awkward. You can look if you want to, just don’t tell anyone else yet.”

“It’s not going to be bad news,” I said, tugging at the floppy top of his beanie hat. He swatted my hand away, but he was smiling grudgingly.

“You have positively no way of knowing that. Unless Lucy’s had a vision I’m unaware of.”

“She hasn’t. You know she never sees anything important.”

“She saw you coming,” Ben countered.

“She saw human-me and Joe in love and gobbling down pretzels at a Cubs game. So I’d say there were at least a few minor details missing.”

“There’s no way I got in,” Ben said, his green eyes slick and fearful and now fixed on the envelope. “We can’t all be geniuses like you.”

“That’s an unfair accusation. I’m far from genius. I’m just obsessed with the ocean.” I’d written my senior thesis on the feeding habits of Pacific angelsharks, and my advisor was still trying to figure out how I, an amateur scuba diver at best, had managed to get so many quality photographs with my underwater camera. The secret, of course, was superhuman agility and not needing to breathe.

“I fucking hate calculus. The MCAT wrecked me. I got a 517.”

“And their median score is a 519, so I’d say you still have a fighting chance. Plus you have like eight million volunteer hours.” Ben had spent the vast majority of the past year either in class or at the hospital. The psychiatrist-in-chief, Dr. Siegel, had been more than happy to take one of Gwil’s foster children under her wing. Every human in Forks except Archer believed that Dr. Gwilym Lee had drowned in a tragic boating accident while he and Mercy were on vacation in Southern California, and that his body had never been recovered. The town had held a wonderful remembrance ceremony and dedicated a free clinic at the hospital in his honor. “Now open it.”

“You do it,” Ben relented finally. “My hands are wet. Go ahead, open it up and tell me what it says. And then kindly euthanize me to end my immortal shame.”

“That wouldn’t work,” I pointed out, tearing open the envelope. I pulled out the tri-folded piece of paper inside, flattened it against my thighs, and read the typed black text.

“...Well?” Ben pressed, vaping frantically.

I looked up and smiled at him.

“No way,” he whispered.

“I hope you like pretzels and bear-themed baseball teams, grandpa.”

And for a second, I thought he might bolt up out of the hot tub, hooting victoriously, splashing water all over the back porch as he danced around bellowing that he’d gotten into one of the best medical schools in the world, that he would be following me and Joe to Chicago. But that wasn’t Ben. Instead, a slow smile rippled across his face: it was small, but perfectly genuine. Pure, even.

“Goddamn,” he said, watching me. Venom doesn’t just resurrect or ruin; it forms a bond that is simultaneously intangible and yet immense. It’s an evolutionary adaptation, a way to facilitate stability and the building of covens in an often violent and ruleless world. And now that he had turned me, Ben had family here in Forks in more ways than one.

“Gwil would be so proud of you, Ben.”

“I hope so. I really do.”

The back door of the house opened, and Joe stepped outside. He studied Ben for a moment, and that was all it took for him to know. “Benny!” he shouted, elated.

“I know, I know. Fortunately, I look amazing in red. Thanks, supermodel genes.”

“This is going to be so fun!” Joe said, sprinting over to wrap Ben—who was characteristically lukewarm on this whole physical displays of affection business—in a hug from just outside the hot tub. “We’re going to go furniture shopping, and eat deep-dish pizza, and find apartments right next to each other, and mail home Chicago-themed care packages, and get you hooked up with some gorgeous Italian woman...or whatever you like, I guess I shouldn’t assume. Women. Men. Gang members. Marine mammals. Jessicas. Whatever. There are options.”

Ben laughed as he playfully shoved Joe away. “Sounds like a plan, pagliaccio.”

“Oh my god, stop learning Italian without me! You realize you have to tell Mom now.”

“I will,” Ben agreed, with some trepidation. “I’ll wait until after Christmas.”

“It’ll be hard for her,” I said. “But she knows it’s what you want. She knows it’s what’s best for you. So she’ll get through it. I think it would be worse for her if you didn’t get in, if she had to see you unhappy.”

Ben nodded, exhaling strawberry-doughnut-flavored vapor, gazing up at the stars, Orion and Auriga and Lynx and Perseus reflected in his thoughtful jade eyes. “She’ll still have Rami and Lucy and Scarlett here with her. And Archer. And Charlie.”

“Especially Charlie,” Joe said, grinning.

Mercy would have to leave Forks eventually, of course. The Lees had already been here for nearly four years; they could stay another ten, perhaps fifteen at the absolute maximum. And there had been a time when ten or fifteen years seemed like quite a while to me, but now it felt like I could doze off one afternoon and wake up on the other side of it, like swimming a lap in the sun-drenched public pool back in Phoenix. We would find a new home somewhere after Joe and I finished our PhDs, after Ben finished medical school, maybe Vancouver or Buffalo or Amsterdam or Edinburgh or Dublin or Reykjavik. Wherever we went, I hoped it wouldn’t be far from the sea. But Mercy couldn’t bear to leave Forks yet. It was the last home she had shared with Gwil, the last house they would ever build together, and leaving it would make his loss all the more irrevocable. She would be ready to leave someday, but not today.

In the meantime, there would still be visits for breaks and holidays. Scarlett and Archer had the shop to keep them busy, a brand new eight-car garage that held a virtual monopoly on both the Forks and Quileute communities. Lucy had opened a bohemian-style clothing boutique downtown, which confounded most of the locals but attracted more adventurous customers from as far away as Seattle. Rami was interning for a local immigration lawyer and entertaining the possibility of applying to U Chicago’s law school in another few years. And Mercy had the farm; and she had Charlie. He had asked her for cooking lessons to try to help rouse her a few months after Gwil’s death, and it had grown from there. If it wasn’t romantic just yet, I believed it would be soon. And there were moments when I thought my father might have figured something out, when his eyes narrowed and lingered on me just a little too long, when his brow knitted into suspicious, searching lines, when the hairs rose on the back of his neck and some innate insight whispered that we weren’t like him and never could be again. But then he would chuckle, shake his head, and say: “You’ve gotten weird, my gorgeous, brilliant progeny. But Forks looks pretty good on you.”

“Can I talk to you upstairs?” Joe asked me suddenly; and did I see restless nerves flicker in his dark eyes? I thought I did.

“Sure,” I replied, climbing down from the hot tub. “Ben, are you coming inside? My dad is trying to bake Christmas cookies and failing miserably. It’s pretty hilarious. Not that you should be the one to critique other people’s kitchen-related accidents.”

“I do enjoy your company a lot more now that I don’t want to murder you and slurp you down like a Chick-fil-A milkshake,” Ben said. “Yeah, give me a few minutes and I’ll be there.” And as Joe and I headed into the house, I saw Ben pick up the acceptance letter that I’d left on the rim of the hot tub and read it for himself with incredulous eyes, grappling with the irrefutable fact that it was his name on the opening line, that he had somewhere along the way become the sort of man who dedicated his immortality to saving lives rather than ending them.

In the living room, Scarlett was back in her yoga pants and absolutely brutalizing Archer in Mario Kart. Rami and Lucy were entwined together on the loveseat, murmuring, giggling, feeding each other pieces of gingerbread cookies. In the kitchen, Charlie was leading Mercy in a clumsy waltz to Meat Loaf’s I’d Do Anything For Love, and each time he fumbled his steps or mortifyingly trod on her feet she would cry out in a peal of laughter brighter than the sun she had learned to live without. Joe spirited me up the staircase, into his bedroom—which, honestly, was more like our bedroom now, in the same way that my room in Charlie’s house had become Joe’s as well—and closed the door.

“You’re in luck,” he said. “Your dad totally ruined our song. Now I can’t hear it without thinking about some moustached guy in plaid trying to seduce my mom.”

“It’s the best Christmas gift I could ever ask for. Meat Loaf is vanquished. Oh, just so you’re aware, Renee and Paul are getting an Airbnb and coming up for New Years.”

“Cool. Do they still think I have a super embarrassing sunlight allergy and will break into hives and asphyxiate and that’s why we can’t visit them in Florida?”

“Yup.”

“Spectacular. Also, can you please tell me what’s wrong with my eyelashes?”

“They’re just a little sparse, amore. But I still like you.”

“Well, I am only moderately attractive, you know.” Then Joe steeled himself, taking a deep breath. Uh oh. He was definitely nervous. I still couldn’t believe I had the power to make him that way, but here we were. “So I get that we’re doing presents with the whole family tomorrow morning, and you do have some under the tree, so don’t worry about that. But there’s one I wanted to give to you alone. You know. With just us. Without an audience. Or whatever.”

“...Okay...?” A secret gift? A naughty gift? “I hope it’s a new vibrator.”

“Shut up,” Joe begged, laughing. “Here.” He reached into the drawer of his nightstand—our nightstand—and produced a small blue box topped with a turquoise bow. It wasn’t a ring, I was sure of that; I didn’t feel especially attached to the idea of marriage, and neither did Joe to my knowledge. How could rings or papers seal commitment when you already had eternity? I was right: the mysterious present was not a ring. When I removed the lid and emptied the box into my palm, what appeared there was a small plastic airplane.

“What is this?” I asked, amused but puzzled.

“Are you not college educated? It’s a plane.”

“Well, yeah, I can see that. But it’s also like two inches long.” I scrutinized the plane. “Are you magically transforming me into a tiny, tiny, little plastic person? Is that my gift? Because I actually got you something good.” And I really did: there was a collection of vintage Chicago Cubs photographs from the 1910s and 20s downstairs under the Christmas tree, packaged in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer wrapping paper.

“We’re going on a trip,” Joe said, grinning. “The day after Christmas. It’s just a short trip, nothing huge, don’t get too excited, we’re not going to Mt. Everest or Antarctica or anything. I think you’ll still like it. But I don’t want you to know where we’re going until we’re there.”

“How will that work? Considering the tickets and signage and pilot announcements and obnoxiously noisy other passengers and all.”

“ScarJo’s going to fly us.”

“Really?!” We were taking the jet. We almost never used the jet. “What’s in it for Scarlett?”

“She found out that Archer’s never had In-N-Out Burger before and is very much looking forward to initiating him into the cult of deliciousness.”

“Oh nice. I could go for a vanilla milkshake myself, now that Ben mentioned them.”  

“Obviously I’m gonna buy you all the milkshakes and animal-style fries you want. Bankrupt me, bitch. But we have to get one other thing taken care of first.”

“So it’s somewhere they have In-N-Out Burger...” I pondered aloud. California? Texas? Las Vegas? I felt a brief but unambiguous pang of homesickness for Phoenix. But there was nothing there for me anymore.

“Stop,” Joe pleaded. “I’m sorry. I’ve already said too much. Please forget that. Get a traumatic brain injury or oxygen deprivation or something.”

“I hate to disappoint you, but I’m rather indestructible at the moment.”

He smiled wistfully. “I wouldn’t want you to be any other way.”

There was laughter downstairs in the living room. I could detect the aroma of a fresh batch of sugar cookies baking in the kitchen, mingling with the cold night air and pine trees and peppermint candy canes. I loved Christmas. The entire world smelled like Joe. The U Chicago décor, classic rock posters, and Italian flag were now interspersed with National Geographic pages and photos of the two of us together. The Official Whatever You Want Pass hung in a small, square picture frame on the wall above Joe’s bed. Our bed.

“How real is it, Joe?” I asked quietly. I climbed onto my tiptoes, linking my hands around the back of his neck with the tiny plane still tucked between my fingers. “Seriously. The wishes thing.”

“The world may never know. Akari never met me as a human, so she wouldn’t be able to say. But if I had to place a bet...” He shrugged, grinning craftily. “Kinda real. Kinda not real. Just like vampires, I guess.”

“I am alarmingly glad that you’re real, mob guy,” I said, abruptly somber. “I never thought I’d meet someone who saw me as remarkable, who could make me see myself that way. And it’s miraculous. And it’s terrifying too, honestly. Being a thing with you. Falling for someone you could have for centuries and lose in a second.”

“It’s the scariest thing there is,” Joe concurred, taking my hand to lead me back downstairs.

Joseph

Scarlett looks like a goddess, and she knows it. But she’s not one of those magnanimous, fragile, harp-plucking, pastel-colored goddesses. She’s ferocity and wildness and crimson like blood, and that’s exactly why Archer loves her. And as they stand in front of the Christmas tree with their hands clasped together—ivory on bronze, snow on sun—with matching sprigs of holly in Scarlett’s hair and pinned to the jacket of Archer’s suit, reciting truths but no promises, I can’t help but watch the other faces in the room: Rami, Lucy, Ben, Charlie, Mom with her beaming smile and shining eyes, the woman I met sixteen months ago and now can’t fathom life without. And it occurs to me for the first time that love, in its cleanest form, isn’t something that changes people as much as it allows them to become who they truly are.

On the evening of December 26th, as soon as the sun dips beneath the western horizon, we board the jet in the Forks Airport hangar. It’s much easier for Scarlett to fly at night; otherwise she has to wear two or three pairs of sunglasses on top of each other, and even then it’s still painful, it still feels like blinding needles burrowing into the jelly of her retinas. That’s not a wrench in my plans or anything. It needs to be night where we’re going, too.

Vampire hyper-acuity notwithstanding, FAA regulations require Scarlett to have a copilot, so Archer joins her in the flight deck with his newly-minted license and spends most of the journey flipping through the latest issue of Motor Trend. As we begin our descent, he peeks back at us and teases: “It’ll be your turn eventually, guys. Scarlett and I did our time. Rami and Lucy can go next year. And after that...unless Ben happens to find someone worthy of a not-wedding...” He wiggles his black eyebrows.

“Bring it on,” I reply casually. “Fake wedding are my jam. It’ll be ocean themed. Or Roaring ‘20s themed. And we’ll all do the Cha-Cha Slide in the living room and shame Ben as a bonding activity.”

“Mercy can set up a mashed potatoes bar,” Baby Swan adds.

“Yeah. With pineapple.”

“No. Not on potatoes.”

“Yes on potatoes.”

“Over my dead body.”

“Too late,” I tell her, touching my lips to the knuckles of her cool, steady hand.

We touch down at a small noncommercial airport just outside the city, and Scarlett and Archer stay back to secure the plane as Baby Swan follows me outside. And she realizes where we are as soon as the wind hits her, as soon as her eyes soak up the sand and cacti and cloudless night sky like rain swallowed up by parched earth.

“Phoenix,” she whispers, smiling like a child.

“But wait, there’s more!” I announce in my best Billy Mays voice. I take the little glass bottle from my pocket, walk across the runway to the naked desert, crouch down when I find a suitable spot, and fill the bottle with dry, sandy earth that crumbles in my palms. Then I seal the bottle with a tiny cork and bring it back to give it to her.

“I know what it’s like to have to leave home,” I say. “You’ve had to say goodbye to Phoenix, and soon you’ll have to say goodbye to Forks, and next will be Chicago, on and on forever. You’ll always be leaving the places you learn to call home. Every five or ten or fifteen years, we start over again. Like a snake shedding its skin, like a hermit crab swapping shells. Like the water that travels from rain to seawater to mist and then back again. But now you can always have a little piece of home with you, and maybe that will make it easier.”

She takes the glass bottle and shakes her head in disbelief, in wonder. Because this is exactly what she wanted, what she needed, even if she didn’t know it yet. “Joe...how did you...?”

“What’d I tell ya? I’m a talented guy. Now you have to dance with me.”

She laughs. “Oh no. Hard pass. I don’t dance.”

“When we’re alone in my bedroom you do. So just pretend we’re alone now. In, like, a really really spacious, sandy bedroom. With probably some lizards.”

“Fine. But only because I’m willing to degrade myself for milkshakes.”

She slides the glass bottle of Arizona earth into her pocket and takes my hands. She’s still a pretty terrible dancer, honestly. She hasn’t lost that. And I love that about her. I love damn near everything about her. And it took me a long time to figure out what exactly her subtle yet peerless cocktail of fragrance is, because it wasn’t somewhere I’d ever been. The scent that drifts from her pores—the scent that now lives in my bedsheets like a shadow or a ghost—is sunlight and heat and clarity and resilience and wisdom older than the pyramids. Her scent is the desert.

Now she’s mischievous, her eyes gleaming with the reflections of the Milky Way and the full moon and the stars that are dead and yet eternal, just like us. “So what, you think you’re Vampire Boyfriend Of The Year material now or what? Some dirt and In-N-Out Burger? That’s the height of your game? Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my perpetual existence? I totally should have pursued that polyamorous triad with Scarlett and Archer when I had the chance—”

“Yeah,” I say, very softly, smiling, tilting up her chin to kiss her beneath the universe and all its eccentricities. “I love you too.”

[superemeralds]

OH WOW thank you for answering so fast!! I wanted to ask because in my opinion, Shadow is written kind of... poorly.. at the metal virus arc :c and I love how you characterize Shadow!! I was wondering, if you could, how would you have written him in it?

okay so this got. RAELLY long. it’s under the read more.. hhaaa... get ready for rambles.

before i start on what i would love to see different, here’s a few things that i really liked about his characterization in idw:

shadow being persistent about what he thinks is right, being very straightforward and strict in wanting to execute his ideal

the way he stepped down and let sonic try his way instead of being stubborn because sonic made a very good point. Shadow wants to be fair, and if he of all people deserves a chance, then so should eggman. kind of ties back to maria also, which is a nice nod to have considering it seems like modern writers for sonic usually treat the ending of shth as “ok she never existed to him anyways”

i like that he uses his GUN affiliation to his advantage to do good and help people (even if by rouges account he does it because he doesnt want to deal with zombots)

he has great devotion to make sure the truck is safe and peole get a chance to get out, giving (according to the comics anyways) more than 100% of his power dealing with hundreds if not thousands of zombots alone

I like that there’s a nod to shadow being insecure about his status as ultimate life form, and he is tempted to get infected just to prove to himself he really CANT get sick and he really IS a perfect being. He struggled a lot with the high expectations that were laid upon him, the expectations he’s laying upon himself.

I like how he had a great sense of shock and defeat when he realized that he DID get infected. It’s very true for him to be thrown off by it, get a little careless due to shock. its natural. it’s good.

his “i told you something like this would happen” towards sonic in the beginning of #19 is justified. He hates that he was right, he always is, and he wishes he wasnt. he could’ve prevented this, but its too late now. then later he risks getting infected with the metal virus, and he DOES get infected. He suddenly wasnt right anymore. This sense of irony... it’s probably one of the reasons he has trouble to concentrate on the fight. it’s a nice parallel. IDK if ian intended it to be this deep, but that’s what i read into it.

(i also want to point out that i like that herms gives everyone slightly diverse “skin”-tones. like diverse undertones. im still peeved they are all pretty pale but its hoenstly a nice little nod)

okay so here’s what i think could’ve gone better:

I feel like shadow being the one to drive the truck into the city is a reference to 06, where he is driving around in various vehicles. That in itself is nice, and i think shadow is a person who prefers to do things himself if there’s a lot at stake (which there was a lot of peoples lives) but i also think that he would think of himself as a powerful shield. He would rather be the one overseeing the battlefield insread of being the designated driver. He knows he was created for the frontlines, and he is someone who knows he can survive the front lines. He is not a sacrefice tobe made, he is the one who will make sure that no one else has to sacrefice themselves. Shadow should’ve been on site from the very beginning. Where is the rest of GUN anyways? Those low level humans should make an effort to protect the life on their planet.

Shadow did absolutely NOT use 100% of his pwoer to protect the truck. He could EASILY have done more. He can lift trucks. He could use chaos blast. He could easily have prevented just faling victim to the zombots so easily.

As mentioned above it kind of DOES make sense for him to go down easily due to being infected, but I think this was the wrong time to let him get infected. I think he wouldn’t let his guard down and carelessly touch a zombot. He would not give in to the temptation to test his limits like this if there was not a greater cause. I think he would easily break if someone he cared about (other than sonic) fell victim to the metal virus. This is something that would get him emotional, to get careless. He knows sonic can outrun the virus, but rouge can’t. Amy, Tails, Knuckles, Vector, all of Sonic’s friends can’t outrun the virus. There’s a big chance that he is immune, there’s a slim chance he is not. But even with that slim chance, he knows he could outrun it, just like sonic. Losing someone he cares about to the virus would remind him of his superiority, of how fragile life is and of his responsibility to protect life itself. Any restrait would be gone. He would be driven by guilt and anger at himself, that he could’ve done better, that he HAS to do better. It’s something that spirals him totally out of control. It’s something that would make him want to prove to himself that he has the ability to fix it all. because it’s all his fault.

this is honestly something that is so important. he feels responsible for this, because he did what was right and gave sonic and eggman a chance. In his mind, sometimes the right hting to do is the wrong thing to do, because sometimes only wrong actions get you to the right goal. he is a gray character like that, and i think it’s not shown enough. his regret and guilt don’t surface enough so that anyone who is not as invested in the character would be able to read it out of #19. there’s a lot of stuff going on inside shadow in this issue and its just. not enough time to unpack it all. this whole deal of him getting infected was too rushed. (as mentioned above i wouldve preferred he get infected a little later or under other circumstances)

I think shadow is aware of his responsibility as living weapon to not fall into the hands of the enemy. he has learned what it means to be manipulated, he learned what it means if he was used as a weapon by an enemy of life on earth. he does NOT want to be used as an object of destruction ever again. He would RUN. even if hesitant, but his emotions would make him excell even in that. he would make sure he’d run faster than sonic. he’s want to make sure that he’d give 110% and cure himself, something sonic couldn’t do.

the way he would go down in my mind is him excerting himself. He would absolutely reject help. he would prefer to not have any contact with anyone at all. For one because he feels guilty and he doesn’t want to deal with that emotionally, also because he doesn’t want anyone to see him in this state of weakness. He absolutely would loathe the idea of anyone being able to see him go down and surrender to the enemy. He would absolutely exhaust his entire energy reservoir building barricades and being the sole and only front line protecting evacuation efforts from a distance, to make sure that they have enough buffer to escape, should he fail.

shadow is someone  who is rash and has a tendency to boast his strength, but he also is someone who tries to consider any and all possibilities, no matter how painful they are to admit to his pride. he will shove them to the back of his mind, but they are still there. and if it COMES to those scenarios, he will have a plan for them. only if unpredictable things happen, or things that shake him emotionally, he would lose grip.

also in all those talks abt things shaking him emotionally, i dont mean that other people who arent his friends are not important to him, its just that friendship has a bigger impact on people. i think that should be pretty obvious, but since people like to misinterpret shadow id like to make sure people understand that i think that shadow values all and every life on the planet. he griefs over random deaths as much as his friends, it’s just that it hits more personal. mostly because he thinks... of himself as someone who always protects, but never has to be protected.

shadows relationship with himself is complicated. he thinks very low of himself. he pretty much hates himself. but that is because he thinks oh so highly of himself. he is perfect, ultimate, unbeatable, unstoppable, immortal, immune.... he expects all this of himself... even though he knows that it’s not true. it’s the one thing that he knows of himself. The one thing he feels that he could maybe achieve if he tried hard enough, and of course he is never trying hard enough; and at the same time he is trying so hard. He gives 300% and yet he still feels like he halfasses everything and he still feels like he could do better. On the outside he presents it with his strict edgy persona, that looks down on everyone. but really he feels so small. most of all towards sonic. sonic is so so tall compared to shadow (pun intended).

he looks up to sonic so much, because he always manages to go out of hisway to do what is right. even if it meant risk, even if it meant weakness. Sonic, the guy that easily could just get killed and hurt and not recover. the funny jokes dude that never thinks more than a single step ahead. This boy is out there risking his life for the life of this planet on the front lines and he shows not a single care about his own safety, always putting everyone else before him. shadow envies him. he really really does. thats why he values his opinoin. thats why he listens to him and even steps back from his OWN ideals, something he would do for only VERY few people, because of course shadow is always right. this is referenced in various sonic games (sa2 most of all,shth,sth) and in sonic x (yea its not canon but like. They Really Got His Character).

ADDING SOME RAMBLING AFTER ISSUE #33 RELEASED

[terrifictomholland]

Oh my God! Please write about Tom being the reader’s PA when you get the time and inspo. I just had a glimpse of what it may be like but I need the whole thing and I don’t think there’s anyone better than you to do it

I hope you’re still around dear anon, I finally got around to writing this for you. I hope you enjoy the amount of softness and preciousness that this turned into.

Being an actress was all you’ve ever wanted to be. It had taken a lot of work to get from the bottom to where you were right now. One of the most sought after young actresses of your time. You loved what you did, you loved to work and make movies and really get into the small details of acting. Whenever you were filming and you had finished a scene, you always stuck around to watch the other actors at work, watching the true greats, admiring them. 

You’d learned so much just by watching them and the way they carried themselves.  You could only hope to reach that level of humility and a reputation like that down the line, but for now, you sunk your teeth in and did the hard work. Hard work was always rewarded in the end, at least, that’s what you’d been told and you prayed that it was true. 

But for all the glory, there were also downsides. Mainly, press and promo, specifically the interview aspects of it that you had to do to sell the movie. The traveling and visiting other countries and meeting so many fans was also one of the highlights for you. It just got a little repetitive and tiresome doing interview after interview, the same questions over and over again and not to mention you using the same answer time and time again, playing it up as to not make it too painfully boring or obvious. 

But the thing you hated the absolute most about doing promo? The constant stress and the fact that you found yourself overwhelmed very easily because of the tight schedule you were on. That made your anxiety kick it up into high gear, you liked structure and organization and that was something that was very easily lost when you were so busy promoting your latest project.

That was where Tom came into the picture. Your PA, also, the guy you were harbouring the biggest mother-loving crush on. He was from the same town as you and you had been best friends for years before you asked him to become your PA. At the time when you asked him, you were just starting out in the industry and all that Tom did was book some auditions for you, but after you had a breakthrough with a small role on a local tv-show, things started picking up and you started relying more and more on Tom to help you keep you grounded.

To say in the least, he rose to the occasion and then some. 

When things became too much for you, he was the one you turned to and he knew you better than anyone so a mere look was enough for him to know what you needed. 

You liked to call him your beacon of light. To you, that was what he was. Your anchor to bring you back home through dark and stormy seas, he was a permanent light and a safe harbour for you to come back to when everything felt like it was too much and you felt like you were drowning. A single look at him and some of your fears and anxiety faded away and all you could focus on was his smiling face, a calming and safe presence for you to lean on. 

You oftentimes found yourself in his arms, stealing hugs because there was no other place in this world, beside in his embrace that made you feel quite as protected than in his strong arms. He took care of you and there was nothing wrong with that, everyone needed someone to fall back on, to have a pillar in their life. 

Tom was yours.

You knew he was responsible for the fact that yes, you had a few hours longer of press, but your interviews were arranged for you to get a bit of a break between them. Which, for you, it meant everything. 

And you meant everything to Tom. 

Those few and rare times where he couldn’t space the interviews out for you, he was there at your sides with multiple cups of coffees and gentle, encouraging smiles reserved only for you. A single smile of his could get you through hours upon hours of interviews. 

 “You okay?” He asked gently holding a cup of coffee out for you when you finally finished all of your interviews for the day. You gratefully took it from him, practically inhaling the whole cup in one go. He looked at you with an amused look.

“Better now that today is done, I just want to go back to the hotel,” You said quietly and his eyebrows knitted together looking at you concerned, considering his words for a moment.

“Are you okay?” His gentle eyes piercing into yours and you just felt like crumbling. Your body turning to him, seeking his comfort more than ever and he was there in an instant.

“I just want a moment for myself, for a taste of normalcy,” You admitted into his chest, your words coming out muffled but you knew he heard you. He heard everything you said.

“C’mon, let’s get in the car,” He ushered you, taking your things for you and a soft hand pressed against the small of your back guiding you. 

All throughout the car ride he kept his hand on yours, tracing idle patterns on the back of your hand sending shivers up your spine. 

“Hey, pull over here yeah?” His voice broke you from your daydreaming of watching the city pass you by. You looked over at Tom as the car turned and slowed. He was already unbuckling himself, you did the same automatically, following his every step.

“Is everything okay? Did you forget something?” He never forgot things, you both knew that but he’d never done this before and you were concerned, but even more curious.

“No, I just need you to come with me?” Before you had the chance to say anything, he got out of the car closing the door. Moments later he was opening it for you, holding a hand out which you immediately took.

“Will you wait here?” You cautiously asked the driver who nodded with a small smile right before you followed Tom. 

“Is this the spot where you’re gonna murder me?” You joked and he let out a laugh, his grip on your hand tightening as warmth coursed through you.

“I’d never,” he promised with such sincerity you wanted to cry. 

“I know, but where are you taking me?” 

“I’m letting you breathe,” he simply stated, leading you out to a deserted park with a view over the entire city which, ironically, took your breath away rather than letting you breathe.

“W-where did you find this?” You whispered letting your eyes take in the view. Street lights dancing in the distance, the constant buzz of cars and people out and about. Yet here, where you were, all you could hear was the two of you breathing.

“I have my ways,” 

“I-it’s, I don’t- I don’t know what to say,” You felt your emotions overcome you as you turned to him seeing him grinning at you, wrapping his arms around you holding you close to his chest.

“Breathe, it’s all you need to do darlin’,” he instructed as his chin rested on your shoulder. He inhaled deeply making you follow along, doing the same. You were a mirror of each other, what one of you did, the other mirrored. It had always been like that with you two. 

“How do you do that?” 

“Do what?”

“Know what I need before I do,” 

“It’s easy, I know you,” his words shouldn’t have had the effect on you as they did. But they did, your heart was pounding against your ribcage to the point where you were so sure he heard it. More than anything, it felt so right, this moment in time where only you and him existed. 

Ever so slightly, his face inched closer to yours, your eyes never breaking contact searching for any sign to pull away.  

There wasn’t any.

Time stood still as you held your breath watching him as he closed the gap between the two of you, pressing the faintest kiss on your lips at long last. It was the shortest kiss you’d ever had, full of love and innocence and you exhaled as he pulled away and he was watching you carefully, a hand coming up to brush some hair out of your face, still gauging your reaction carefully. 

His entire face changed when you began smiling and you placed your hand on his wrist, this time pressing your lips against his. Soft and skilled lips moving with yours, exploring and experimenting. The press turning more intent one second, softer the next. His tongue running over the seam of your lips after a while of finding a way of kissing that made your toes curl. Fireworks exploded behind your eyelids as your tongues met, hesitant at first but growing more and more confident with every swipe of his tongue. He kept you close to him and you could feel the way your knees were getting weaker and weaker, completely overcome with emotions and feelings.

This was all you’d wanted for ages, so to now know that your feelings were so reciprocated was everything to the both of you.

He was your home and that was all you needed. A safe harbour to weather any storm, standing steady.

taglist -  @exitsali96ivette - @localfangirlx - @siriuslyslyslytherin - @shaharloni1 - @immnotsure - @worldoftom - @averyfosterthoughts - @unicorn-princess-1999 - @softbaby-tom - @alwaysbenhardysgirl - @farfromhaz - @peterparkoure - @fallingforfics - @1believe-in-your-self1 - @awesomelupe - @captainbuckyy - @parkeraul - @maryjanee23 - @underoosjae - @sexyllamas04 - @definitely-not-black-cat @howdyho-holland @thirsttrapholland (crossed out means i couldn’t tag you for some reason im sorry! :(

[thorsstorms]

Abroad Pt. 19

Summary: Being the Hemsworth Kids’ Nanny, you were vowed to keep it strictly professional for their sake, but do the stolen glances go unnoticed between you both?

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: y’all know I’m a bitch for angst by now right?

A/N: @hildehuffles this ones for you. ALSO. THE YOUTUBE CHANNEL IM TALKING ABOUT IS YES THEORY. I was in Venice a couple weeks ago, and felt like adding in a little get away like I had done. I told no one I was going and literately hopped on a plane with an Airbnb secured. #SeekDiscomfort also one of the best trips to LA I had ever taken. 10/10 recommend. 

Masterlist

Your eyes were glued to the generously sized television screen mounted on the wall, holding the flimsy bottle of water tight in your hands. The conversation took a swift turn with only a sentence spoken and it was the two of you dressed at the premier that was painting the background. You knew she was only doing this to tease him, and the sly comments he made in turn settled your nerves.

“So Chris… Who? Who‘s that?” His eyes were drawn to the monitor, not startled at all by her outburst but calm, with a telltale pink tint creeping up and a squinty eyed smile trying to stay buried.

The crowd whoops in retaliation.

He stayed silent a moment more, staring at the monitor, thinking of a way to answer until the crowd calms down. The comedian looks mischievous, obviously taking pride in his suffering though she knows exactly who you are now. The crowd doesn’t need to know that detail. She only means to tease, it’s who she was!

He folds his hands, rubbing them together before simply saying, “I have never seen that woman in my life.” Obviously joking. 

“Oh come on!” she pushed, glowing eyes with a smile stretching across her cheeks.

“Yea, yea. That is my girly-friend, you could say. It’s-It’s weird to say that because I feel like she’s more than just a girlfriend, you know?” He glances again back at the large picture behind him before running a hand down the side of his face, focusing back forwards. He knows you are just watching the screen, glued to the screen at that, in the green room. He didn't know what you were thinking! It could go one of two ways in his mind. Absolutely silently losing your mind or laughing in retaliation to his discomfort of not knowing what to say. Hopefully the latter.

“Oh! I know.” She jokes, full on laughing at him while he smirks but stares daggers playfully. She knows you were more than just a girlfriend in his mind now, but how could he resist the shot of you meeting and hugging Ellen Degeneres and not stick the ring up and snap a photo of the moment while you were faced away? She was a trustworthy person, or so he hoped. Not proven wrong so far.

“Okay, Okay,” she settles herself. “So tell me, where did you find her?” She was keen to the details.

“Uhh- The internet,” he says without missing a beat. You almost choke on your own spit at his fast response, not knowing whether to laugh or crawl into a hole. But the crowd loved it, laughing. He sure got a kick out of the response, thinking he, himself, was funny. Loser.

“You are joking.” Ellen says, dead panning him.

“No, no really. My, uh, my manager found her for me.” He continues on, deceiving the crowd. Depriving them of the whole truth.

“Oh my god, Chris,” you mutter to yourself in the quiet room. Ellen got a kick out of that even more, stopping him from continuing down this road. He obviously was not going to give straight forward answers.

“Okay, okay.” She switches to a different question. “So…” She dragged out for an effect. Maybe just to make him squirm.

“Oh no,” he mumbled. She just had a look, a look that told that she had so many wrong questions under her sleeve.

“You filming something Chris?” The crowd slowly grew to giggle when he didn’t answer. Just stared her down trying not to react.

“Do you have, like, anything I can answer?!” He burst with a chuckle, wiping his palms on his thighs. “I’m just in town, and agreed to come see you and you treat me like this!” His smile was bright while she muttered apologies, laughing at his distress.

The interview eventually calmed down, them playing a rapid fire game afterwards. You finally settle into the couch to watch the interactions.

That was so not as bad as it could have been. He knew what he was doing during interviews anyway, or you had hoped.

~

You slept in the next morning, only waking to acknowledge that he was leaving for the day. This was a free day to yourself and sleeping in as long as you wanted seemed like the best way to start.

He left you with a mere kiss on the nose before he trudged out the door. The night before was yet another dismissal and it left you flustered and annoyed as all get out, so the day to yourself was the best present around.

Regardless of how much you thought you wanted a calm day, you were texting him by noon, telling him you were bored. By the time he replied, a mere 45 minutes later you were already sucked into YouTube. You found a new channel that piqued your interest and were easily four videos in.

“Sorry princess. Come with me tomorrow?”

You read the preview and sighed, ignoring it for the moment and pressed play on the video again. These guys in the videos were entertaining... inspiring, even.

By the time the fifth video started, their names were easily remembered. What sparked interest even more was the fact that they are based out of Venice Beach, a mere 45 minute drive through LA, on a good day at least.

The video of them walking the sidewalks interviewing strangers that were bold enough to go on an adventure made you want to feel the same sun they were obviously surrounded in. The couch had been your home for the last hour, a window open to let in some light, shining gold streaks through the room, but it wasn't enough.

The rules that plagued yourself were on a repeat in your head as you clicked on another video, then another, and another. You were not supposed to be spending too much time staring at a screen. You weren't supposed to drive, or go out on your own because you are still healing. You're not supposed to be in such sunny areas it could hurt your eyes still. Don't do this, don't do that.

It is suffocating. Infuriating that the list of long don'ts probably repeats through Chris’s head like a mantra, that's why he won't touch you. That's why he won't let you touch him.

Anger slowly flowed through your mind as you started to lose focus on the video playing. You closed the app and opened google maps, staring at the words ‘Venice Beach’ in correlation to where you were stuck inside, across the city. It was like torturing yourself. A silent battle of wanting to just go, go and then think about it later.

You slowly rolled your shoulders back as you sat up on the cushions of the couch that were not as comfy as you had hoped. The time on the lock screen taunted back at you. You could go and make it back in enough time to be home before Chris got back. You scoffed at the thought. He wouldn't be happy, but you were an adult. A very capable adult who can make their own choices. Staying in your bubble of Byron almost makes you forget your own sense of independence. He doesn't get to decide what you can and can't do.

The bathroom light shone a tad brighter than the natural lighting in the living room, eyes squinting quickly at the flush. You moved to the sink to wash your face, pulled a hair tie to braid your hair, and picked out some clothes.

Double checking for your wallet and phone in your purse brought on second thoughts. You never answered his text. He probably wouldn't notice for a while anyway. You pushed away the small ache of neglect that settled inside, it wasn't his fault. He was working. It’s when he wasn't working, that's when brush offs hurt the most.

Checking your makeup again in the mirror to make sure the covering was adequate over the blueing bruises, you made your way out, pulling the door behind you after ordering an Uber to Venice.

Los Angeles wasn't all the glitz and glam that movies made it out to be. You learned that pretty fast last time you all had been here, with the kids. Having a temporary place in Burbank meant crossing the city often, though a quick commute for Chris. The studios were not but a 6 minute drive away. Ideal, yes. But fun, no.

The drive seemed quick, the driver was slightly chattier than what you thought was normal but you were not complaining. You may have just had a week with more adult action than you’d had in the last few months combined but you were never one to be impolite. You didn't say much, only that you've never visited Venice before and didn't know why, so you just said ‘why not?’.

When the vehicle came to a stop and a moment of regret flushed forward, but you pushed it back quick. Going by yourself was not the worst thing in the world. How else were you going to be able to see what you wanted to see? You didn't know anybody here in L.A. other than Chris. It wasn't like you could call Miley up and ask her to stroll around town with you. Well, you could. But - not like this.

You adjusted your own sunglasses as you walked the last block towards the water. The art on the walls were bright and gave off calm vibes. A skateboard whizzed past you quickly, catching you off guard. You sidestepped to the right of the sidewalk and watched him ride past you and others, closer towards the shops. Clutching your bag closer to your body, you continued, rounding the corner to what was familiar from the videos you had been so enamoured with.

Towering palm trees. Bikes, so many bikes. So many skateboards. You looked around a moment after making sure you were out of the walk way, admiring the ease of the people around. The skatepark up on the hill and the art lining the sidewalks it was all what you hoped to see from the video.

The shops were cute, making your way through a few. So many surf shops and all you could think about was guilt that Chris didn't know you left the apartment. Everything reminds you of him. A fire fight started in your brain - consisting of respect you had for having a partner versus having a sense of independency. You didn't have to disclose every footstep, you never expected him to, at least.

The spiral of your thoughts continued as you strolled across the sidewalks, leaving behind the shops. You took a seat in the grass overlooking the busy basketball courts and pulled your phone out. Ignoring the warmth on your shoulders from the sun, you checked for any notifications and were met with none.

Did you have a right to feel the way you were feeling at the moment?

Was it selfish? Was it hormones? Forget that.

But were you chalking it up to be something more, just a spiral of thoughts when he wasn't there to discredit them? Your clouds caused a moment of zoning out as you pondered.

You both spent all day yesterday together, he even made you dinner, working in the kitchen with music playing while you watched him from the couch. Admiring and happy to see him. A glint in your eyes that stayed, unsubdued. A girl can't help but be worked up when she had gone so long without him, pregnancy hormones were no help to the cause. All you wanted was for him to acknowledge what you had been repeatedly showing off.

You were horny.

There was no other way to put it. And a healing head injury was not going to magically make the want disappear, even if it seemed to have made the want disappear from himself. The thought made your stomach clench, remembering when he turned around and caught you staring at him with lustful, shameless eyes.

He knew the look. He knew it very well. But what happened when his eyes met you made your blood run cold, your feet quickly allowing you to leave the room so the hitch in your breath wasn't caught by his ears.

He had looked away from your gaze with a sigh, turning his back to you. Another word didn't leave his mouth until he had come to find you in the bedroom to tell you that dinner was ready. He stopped himself from pushing open the door when he heard you talking. The sadness in your voice, clouded with tears as you spoke to whoever was on the other line.

“We had such a good day, I had such a good day,” you corrected. “But, but I just-” you stopped a moment, taking in a shaking breath to gather your thoughts. He looked at his feet, bowing his head when the upset nature of the phone call settled in his mind.

“I just miss him so much Bri, and I feel like he just doesn't see me. I feel -”

Your speech was cut off by yelling through the line of the phone. You sucked in a breath and it came out in a shudder, trying to calm your own emotions. He didn't know what she was saying but it silenced you. He felt heavy with guilt that he was the source of your anguish. He needed to stop being weak. He was scared to hurt you but here he was, causing you pain repeatedly until he was the source of your tears. He didn't know if you were crying or not, but he could feel the pain and confusion behind your words.

You started to wrap up the call. A sting of “I know”s and “Okay”s spilled off your tongue and he made his way back to the kitchen, hoping you wouldn't feel upset if you knew that he was listening.

He stood plating the stir fry when you made your way back into the room with a grim smile, peaking at him and muttering ‘thank you’.

You remembered how he led you to the couch and played a random movie on the TV while you ate. He pulled you close to him when you both cleared you plates. The rush that had flooded through you made you blush. You sat there snuggled to him for almost an hour before you both headed to bed and he didn't touch you again.  He said all the right things, but words were hard at having such a meaning when his actions were iffy.

“I love you.”

“I'm glad you're here with me.”

“I missed you.”

“I love you, so much,” he would say with a rub on your arm.

A small kiss to your temple and you rolled on your side away from him, closing your eyes. Unbeknownst to you, he felt a bit of his heart break away when he watched you reach for the blankets and tug them to your shoulders, seeking them out for warmth rather than himself.

The empty notification screen mocked you, clicking the phone off once again. You looked up at your surroundings to admire the feel. It was busy, but not uncomfortably so. The skatepark behind you was bustling, and so were the basketball courts in front of you. But right there, where the grass was a soft green and you leaned against the raised plateau behind you, it was serene. Fairly quiet for the crowd around, but it was as if the sound didn't carry. The seagulls above were gliding, and the faint clicks of skate wheels hitting the ground blurred into the background noise of music coming from the shops.

It was a good spot to think. Something you have alway done far too much of.

The buzz in your hand had you snaping your head towards it, a dull ache spreading down your neck at the swift movement. The message had you jumping to your feet, making your way to the corner where you were dropped off.

“Almost done here. In the mood to go out for food?”

~

He beat you home, only by a minute though it seemed. As you were stepping out of the car and thanking the driver, your phone started ringing. You declined, tossing it into the mess of a purse you had as you made your way inside to the elevators, favoring talking to him in person instead.

The ride up seemed to go by faster than any other time before, allowing your nerves to revv in the light of Chris possibly being upset. The padding of your shoes made it to the door, your hand pushing it open.

His eyes met yours when the door opened and unsurprisingly the first words out of his mouth were, “where were you?”

“I just needed to get out for a bit,” you acknowledged lightly, setting your purse on the counter tops. You didn't meet his eyes, turning your back and digging for your phone. His voice was laced with curiosity, not expecting you to not be there when he arrived, even if you were only off by a mere minute or two.

“Where did you go?” He asked, keeping his feet planted. You turn to see him. He truly had just gotten here, a bag still thrown over his shoulder and shoes still on his feet. His brows furrowed as you met his eyes and then diverted from them again, absentmindedly rubbing your temple where bruises were covered.

“I went to Venice Beach, I haven't been there before and I just want to walk aro-”

“How did you get to Venice? Did you go by yourself?” He worried on with a malice tone. Your ears were growing red as he spoke.

“Yes I went by myself, who else would I have gone with?” You hissed at him. You could already feel your hands shaking. You knew you had worked yourself up today while you were out and were just waiting for the point to start a fight. Still completely confused on whether he deserved it or not, but you were beyond frustrated.

“I don't know anybody here! I have one friend who I barely see! Yes! I went by myself. I needed to be around people. I'm lonely!” You raised your voice at him. He stepped towards you with his hands out when your defense shot up. You crossed your arms around yourself protectively, delivering a sign of needing to be comforted, even if by your own arms.

“I'm sick of being by myself!” You told him as he grew closer, watching with pained eyes as you laid it out for him. “I just - God I don’t know. I just - I needed to get out and do something.”

“Hey,” he calmed. “Im right here.”

“No, Chris!” You pushed his outstretched hands away from your own. “You're not.” You took a deep breath while he stood speechless, catching an eyeful of the hurt you were carrying on your shoulders.

“Princess,” he pleaded, waiting for you to take a look at him but your eyes were wandering to any surface but his.You couldn't get the right words out to say. It had always been like this when you grew frustrated, your own vocabulary runs from your thoughts. You grew silent as a tear finally fell from your eyes but was quickly wiped away by his own fingers. When you didn't protest his touch he took that as a good sign. He muttered your name in surrender.

“What do you want me to do?” He watched for a reaction. “Tell me what I can do.” He was at a loss. Spending more time apart than together was a strain that was eerily familiar and it pressed down on him so hard he was ready to beg for understanding. He wanted to understand what he could do to make this better but what you said next caught him off guard, rendering him silent and confused.

“Do you love me?”

His eyes burned at the yearning of your question. The watery eyes that flicked to his in search of an answer. His lips were dropped open at the turn of events this evening had taken. He thought about this evening all day. He was going to let you choose the place for dinner and shower you with dessert, with love, and affection to make up for what he had overheard. He wanted to show you the beautiful diamond that had your name written all over it and ask a very important question.

He was too quiet, mulling over how he had gotten to this point while you stood with uncertainty, continuing on your quest of finding answers.

“I know I'm starting to look different,” your head bowed at the revelation that he might not like what he sees. “And we are so far apart alot, but I'm still me.”

He spoke your name, drawing himself from his silent trance, wanting you to stop now and not speak another incredulous word.

“My face,” you whispered sadly. “It will go away in a little bit...” The whole in your chest was opening, grabbing a hold of your voice and refusing to let another word out.

“Baby, stop,” his words filled the empty void when yours ceased. He eyed a hand of yours making its way to your neck, a sign of discomfort. He stopped it in its tracks and pulled you to his chest.

His arms cocooned you, holding you far too tight to be comfortable, but you needed it. To feel he was there and there with you. He pressed you head to his chest with the revelation of disregarding his own hesitancy of somehow hurting you with his touch. His heartbeat melding with your own as you froze, slowly melting your guard until tears wet his shirt.

If his goal was to keep you from harm, he failed. It was proven when you released the tension from your shoulders against his grip. His words repeated until you showed signs of listening. Words of reassurance and love. Words filled with apologies and pleads for you to forgive him for causing you this pain. He was naive to think of you in such a way. To make up a version of yourself that was weak or fragile. He lost sight of the fire you have in your veins when happiness emits from your aura. The glow you have when your body shakes from laughter. The strong independent girl that rounded the corner of his kitchen and introduced herself without a glitch of uncertainty. But here you were asking for reassurance and he knew it was his own fault.

You cried in his arms, letting him carry your weight from the room before he sat down on the bed and let you take a moment to breathe, curled atop his knees and listening to his voice.

“Hey,” He said, lifting a hand from your shoulder to run over his face, drying the wetness that plagued his own skin. “You are so beautiful that it takes my breath away. Perfect. And I mean in every sense. You will always be perfect. Princess I never want to hear you say those words again. You are so perfect. And always will be. We have a little baby growing.” You took a deep breath, picking your head off his shoulder and reaching down to lay a hand over the swell in your tummy.

“A baby!” He said, laying a hand over your own, though waiting for you to meet his eyes again. “You will look different, princess, and I will be here and love every single minute of it. I promise. No doctor appointments with Bri, I will be here. And this,” He brushed your hair away from your face, fingers lingering against your scalp. Your head tilted up and basked in the touch.

“This I take responsibility for. It eats me up inside, but you still take my breath away. Every time, and always will.” He watched as you looked at him and listened intimately to what he was saying. “And I want to be the person you go places with. You can go alone if you like,” he added, “but I will never not want to be by your side. Do you understand me?”

You look on a second more, gauging his expression and contemplating his words before you nod. “No more tears, please.” His hands moved to cradle your face, thumbs clearing the skin and in a flash his lips met yours. Filled with promise, he kissed you like you wished he would for days. You craved his taste and was letting you have it, finally feeding into the small fire in the pit of your stomach.

“I love you so much,” he whispered against your lips.

“I have something I want to show you,” he admitted, pulling away. A deep, clarifying breath escaped your lungs and he rubbed your back in turn, reaching in his pocket for his phone with the other hand.

His fingers fumbled across the screen, having to reenter the password twice. You looked away and laid your head into the crock of his neck, closing your eyes. Whatever it was, surely it could wait while your heart mellowed to a regular pace.

The peace was cut short when he whispered your name again, drawing your eyes open. He pushed his phone from his hand and into yours.

“There’s an album right here with your name on it.” You looked on at his camera albums listed on the bright screen. “And I want you to look through it.” He was certain with his words, urging you on.

“Why?” you asked, looking back up at him.

“I love you so much princess, I just want to show you, I want for you to know it and never question it again.” His sincerity was clear, nodding back down towards the phone in your hands. You opened it without a word and clicked on a photo. It was nice, from a few months back, but neither you nor India were looking towards him. She sat in front of you on the kitchen counter, clearly way past her bedtime. Both of you sneaking a bowl of ice cream but what stood out was the smile adorning both of your faces. Crazy hair and slightly sunburned cheeks laughing at each other. You remembered the night clearly, both of you having a private running joke to see how much ice cream you both could eat before Papa notices and “makes us eat salad for dinner”.

You sneaked a look up at him after glancing at the photo, “You know we sneak ice cream all the time, right?”

“Sure do,” he laughed in return. “Keep going.”

You looked back down at the phone and swiped to see another. A photo snuck from the doorway while you rested your head in your hand, elbows on the table as you watched the boys write something out on some paper in the homeschool room, reaching out with the other hand to point at something on Tristans’ sheet.

The next one was you sitting at the foot of the couch while India stood tall above you trying to put a braid in your locks while Sasha sat on your legs with a book in his hand. It was serene, calm. You pressed down on the picture to watch the Live, a short clip of fingers tangling in your hair and Sasha's voice reading aloud. You stifle a smile at it.

The next made you suck in a breath. You were sleeping in his bed at home, the sheet barely covering you. The curve of your back disappearing into the sheets, obviously sleeping in the nude, unaware of the camera pointed at you.

“Chris!” You teased, looking at him. And smirked and shrugged his shoulders, encouraging you again to continue. You brought your attention back to the photos, swiping through more and more. There were many and you kept going at a steady pace until another caught your eye.

You brought the screen to your eyes to examine it, brows furrowing in curiosity. Sasha’s room, although slightly messy, was easily recognizable as you lounged on the bed in the background, lying next to the boy.

Fingers trapping a small ring with an identifiable glow thrusting off the jewel perched atop. The pads of your fingers zoomed in on the object, at the same time, fairly sure your lungs stopped working.

You quickly swiped to the next picture, though the same ring adorned the foreground.

This time you stood against the bathroom counter brushing out your hair.  The circle of jewelry resting around his own finger, reaching just below the first knuckle before it got stuck. You stared at the daring ring, resisting the urge to look at the man whose chest was pressed against your shoulder, whose arm rested across your back, rubbing gently, urging for you to continue.

You covered your mouth at the next one, fingers resting across your lips in astonishment. The bare skin of your shoulders were accented by the waves of your hair falling over them. Eyes closed, rested against his chest in search of sleep. He was cheeky, smiling in the photo, showing off a glowin diamond on a ring far too small for his own fingers.

The next picture was another of the same nature. Then a photo of you reaching for a glass in the kitchen. One of you sleeping on a plane. One of you naked, behind the blurred glass of the shower doors. One of you staring intently at your phone while standing at the counter. One of you standing in the mirror, examining, no - admiring the form of your growing baby.

You knew Chris was up to something, fidgeting after taking that photo, looking guilty as all get out. A brief watery laugh escaped as you reached that one.

The next was hilarious, Ellen with her face over your shoulder, with a surprised look, staring right at the camera. She knew!

You looked up at him, waiting for an answer to these photos. He just smiled and nudged you till you finished. There were more, a few more, as recent as this morning before he snuck away to go to set.

“It’s for you, love,” his voice whispers against the skin of your neck, lowering his lips to press a kiss where he knows you melt no matter the circumstance. An arm tightened around your back as he leaned forward and reached under the mattress, pulling a hidden box from the crease. You glazed at it as he switched hands and then brought it to you, flipping it open.

It was there, in person and not in a photo, demanding attention is the slyest of ways. It was beautiful, extravagant with an essence of simplicity. Words were caught in your throat as you stared at it, slowly blurring from your vision from unwelcome tears.

“Will you marry me?”

[iamleavingthisfandom]

karaoke bar - request

@glimmersinner​ said:

i have a reddie fic idea, dont know if youre taking requests, but im thinking of after the battle of it (eddie survives bc its canon) they go out for kareoke and stan can live or die its up 2 u :) but they do kareoke at this bar and like richie sings “eddie,baby” to come out w his feelings and i need that in my life thank u

I am, indeed, taking requests! And this is such a lovely one, thank you for sending it to me. Hope you like what I’ve cooked up for you!  read here on ao3

Raucous laughter rolled over the table full of drinks and snacks that the Losers occupied. After all the “you’re a fucking clown” were said and all the sinister interdimensional entities were done with, everyone went to settle their own affairs, but agreed to reconvene in New York. Which was currently taking the form of getting together in a karaoke bar, an occasion full of drinking and revelry, finally not bearing the shadow of responsibility for defeating an ancient evil. The laughter erupted after Richie’s quip about Ben and Beverly’s over-the-top cheesy rendition of (I’ve Had) The Time Of My Life, all in good fun, of course. A “happy for you, but keep all the straight details to yourself” was a drunken comment of him trying to read the room, with no malice behind it. He had come out via his twitter earlier in the week, with all the Losers sending him messages of love and support afterwards, and it took no time at all for jokes about being gay to become his go-to response to many things, despite the lingering internal problems. Humor was always his coping mechanism, after all, and it helped that he was surrounded by supportive friends. The main problem he was actually struggling with was his less-than-friendly feelings for none other than Eddie Kaspbrak, currently sitting across from him and sipping a Strawberry Daiquiri through a bright green straw. His jokes were decidedly not helping with that, especially not when Eddie let go of the straw to laugh so hard Richie could hear his snorts above the general rowdiness of the bar, but that was not going to stop him from making everyone laugh.

Just as Richie looked away from Eddie, desperately willing himself not to blush (he was almost forty years old, for fuck’s sakes, he did not blush), Bill called out in a challenging tone: “Beep-beep, trashmouth, either step up and sing something or stop making fun!” Richie put his hand to his chest, as if deeply wounded. “Billiam, making fun of you all is my sacred duty.” “Sing something, Richie,” Beverly joined in. Soon, Bill and Beverly were both chanting “sing,” while Stan sat between them, looking entirely unimpressed if not for a tiny hint of a smile. Ben was mostly interested in looking at Beverly enthusiastically chanting, Mike was grinning a bit, but waited to see the situation develop, and Eddie… Well, Eddie was looking at Richie with an impish expression that the latter was having trouble reading. Finally, after a few seconds of this, he raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine, you vultures. Let me show you how it’s done,” he grinned as Bill and Beverly cheered, and stood up to go to the karaoke machine. He scrolled through the list of songs when one caught his attention. His jokes weren’t helping, but maybe… He didn’t let himself finish the thought before he pressed “play” and the first soft chords poured from the speakers. He lifted the mic just in time for the lyrics to start. The cameras captured all of the glances And all of the chances we’ve missed Everyone at the table cheered supportively, except Eddie, who looked like he recognised the song all too well and was slowly starting to show a very fetching blush. Though there was a small, hopeful smile— except was there? Richie didn’t want to give himself vain hope, and instead sang further, only gaining confidence and enthusiasm with every line. As always, it took little time for his flair for showmanship to show itself, and by the time the first chorus came, he had started moving his hips and his free arm, in a more dramatic than choreographic fashion, but expressive nonetheless. Oh Eddie, baby, won’t you come to my arms tonight? I beg and plead you, please succumb to my charms tonight. He spared a wink at Eddie, who looked progressively more scarlet, before grinning and making a show of holding his palm to his heart. I give my heart But you take it and you break it and you tear it apart Oh Eddie, baby, won’t you come to my arms. Not that he hadn’t heard the song before, but somehow actually singing it out loud was different than listening to the lyrics: they resonated deeper now. He didn’t let himself show that, though. A smirk here and a rakish grin there did the trick, and apart from Stan’s raised eyebrow and knowing smile it seemed like no one had thought too much of it. And I hope one day, dear friend, you will come around. The second Richie thought that maybe choosing a song that showcased his hidden feelings was, in fact, not the best idea he’d ever had, he caught the sight of Eddie biting his lip in a small smile. He reminded himself that Eddie was just embarrassed at being the center of attention (wouldn’t be the first time for that) but in on the joke, yet no matter how he framed it to himself, that little smile was all that it took for his breath to catch. The rest of the performance was likely not his best form, but it mattered little, and when he finished the last line, the Losers’ table erupted in cheers and applause. Even Stan clapped, unable to hold back his smile. Richie made an exaggerated bow and got back to his seat. “Alright,” Bill clapped his hands once more and got up, “I’ll go see if they have Tubthumping,” and with that, everything seemingly got back to normal. Well, everything except the weird, almost-calculating look Eddie was giving Richie that stopped him from joking about how cheesy Bill’s song choice was. The rest of the night was uneventful and full of that special drunken merriment that can only be found in good company. If anyone noticed the looks Richie kept throwing Eddie, no one mentioned anything, and if Eddie had anything to say about Richie’s initial choice of song, he kept it to himself. Eventually, as everything in life, the night had to end, and the Losers started parting ways until the only people left outside the bar were Richie, smoking a cigarette, and Eddie, shuffling his foot on the asphalt and looking anywhere but at his friend. “Fun night, huh?” Eddie wondered, seemingly at no one in particular. “Yeah, but my head’s going to be killing tomorrow,” Richie joked with a puff of smoke. Eddie lifted his head, biting his lip and meeting his eyes for the first time since they said their goodbyes to the rest of the group. It took a lot of Richie not to let that stop his inhale of smoke, but he kept his breathing steady. “Rich,” Eddie started and paused again, unsure. “Yeah, Spaghetti?” Richie was determined to keep it light. “I wish you’d stopped doing things like— like the song,” Eddie rushed out on a single breath, like he was running on a sudden drunken influx of bravery. “If you don’t mean anything by that, it’s just cruel,” he added, quieter and hiding his gaze again. Wait— cruel? If he didn’t mean anything? Within seconds, hope grew in Richie’s chest, one that he’d systematically squashed down, and too soon it became too big to contain. After a short awkward pause, it pushed the words out of him. “I meant it.” Eddie’s eyes shot up as he looked questioningly at Richie. “Whatever you’re thinking of now, I meant it.” “Can you say it? What you meant?” The look in Eddie’s eyes, cautious but on the verge of happy, and the tentative step he took towards Richie, gave him the strength to throw the cigarette on the ground and step on it without taking his eyes off of Eddie. “I’ve been in love with you since I knew what love was,” he knew it was always a risk to be so open with his heart, but the giggle Eddie let out and a smile that lit up his face were the best payoff Richie could ever want. “You’re so cheesy, Tozier. You’re lucky I’m in love with you, too,” Richie barely had the time to make a sound before Eddie moved in and tugged him down into a kiss with a hand in his hair. The kiss was short-lived, though, and soon Eddie was pulling away with a frown, quickly replaced with a laugh. “You reek of smoke, that’s gross.” “I’ll give up smoking for you,” Richie promised dramatically, his ability for coherent thought almost gone with the giddy high of their long-anticipated finally. Eddie chuckled and stood on the balls of his feet as Richie wound his arms around him. “I can get used to it,” he kissed Richie again. The rest of the world melted away when their lips moved against each other, and as he tasted the sugary residue of strawberry concoctions on Eddie’s lips, Richie knew he’d never felt quite as elated before in his life. No, not even when his agent booked his first large venue for his show. When they pulled apart, Eddie looked at him from under his eyelashes. “Want to come over to my place?” “Ouch, Eds, not even gonna buy me dinner first?” Eddie let out a small laugh, but he looked determined, and maybe, just maybe, Richie felt like he would do absolutely anything for him at that moment. “Well?” “I’d love to,” Richie smiled in response. Eddie stepped back to hail a cab, and suddenly there was a slight twinge of doubt in Richie’s gut. “And we don’t have to— do anything you don’t want to do, of course.” The look Eddie gave him in response was best described as amused. “Oh, we don’t have to, but I definitely want to. That is, if you…” he didn’t finish the thought, because Richie interrupted him. “You have no idea how much I want to.” With a grin, Eddie took his hand and waited for a cab to pull up, which it did in just a few seconds. Richie followed him into the car with a blinding grin and put his hand on Eddie’s thigh as he listened to him tell the driver the address. His main takeaway from the whole thing was that sometimes joking about his true feelings paid off big time. Anything else was overshadowed by Eddie’s hand sliding smoothly into his once more and his large eyes staring gently into Richie’s own, but maybe that was just as well.

[fbdo1986]

idk the only fbdo prompt i can think of is cameron falls asleep on the couch so ferris and sloane have a contest to see how much random shit they can put on him before he wakes up. Besides that, the way you wrote cam & sloane’s 1st kiss was very good, how bout writing ferris and cam’s 1st kiss? Unless that’s gonna be in ur new fic of course. Anyway, i’ll be back if i can think of cuter prompts

yo anon… you’re the best!!!! how about i write both???!! it’s hard for me sometimes to write ferris/cam and i have no idea why?? but i’ll do it for you anon! and honestly i’m not too sure if my fic is gonna involve any kissing tbh! i kinda foster ideas as i go

okay! since i am incapable of putting this one in the same timeline of my sloane/cam fic heres one that goes post the fic im working on, which is an interpretation of that fateful day off! (it’s probably a few days after or so)

warning: slight mention of ab*se bc like. cameron’s dad exists

ALSO SORRY THIS IS SO FUCKING LONG I GOT CARRIED AWAY!

Cameron narrowly escapes to his room, his hands shakily pressing the button to dial up the Bueller residence. He was high of pure adrenaline, and unfortunately, fear. The spiel about how ‘he wouldn’t be pushed around any longer, and seriously doesn’t a teenager deserve to have a life of his own? and how he’s done nothing except nearly exhaust himself to make the man proud and he doesn’t even notice!?’ actually takes old Morris Frye by surprise, and in a good way. He ruffles Cameron’s hair and goes on about how for the longest time he’s been waiting for his son to become a man, and how maybe, he’s proud of Cam. That is, until he realizes Cameron’s mentioned the car. Then all bets are off. It starts with a loud bellowing yell and Cameron can sense it’s only gonna escalate from here. Quickly, Morris is inching his way closer to Cameron and even though Cam is giving an explanation as quickly as words can exit his mouth to try and derail his father, it’s no use for the man who loves his car more than his own family. The man is seeing red, the red of that precious 1961 Ferrari 250 GT California that tumbled to its death from the garage. And Cameron needs to get out of there before he gets any closer. 

So he makes it to his bedroom, and the immediate response is Ferris. There’s no one who can save him like the boy who can get out of trouble in any situation. The line rings and he hears the familiar, moody hello of Jeanie Bueller. “Hey, it’s Cameron. Can you put Ferris on, please?” His voice wavers, and Jeanie immediately understands. Cameron won’t lose it, not like how he used to, but these things build up. 

“Ferris! It’s Cameron!” Jeanie yells, and Mrs. Bueller asks if everything’s alright. Jeanie keeps silent, letting Ferris spill if he decides to.

Ferris has something inside of him that is fine tuned to discussions of Cameron or Sloane. This shout isn’t typical Jeanie tone, and immediate sirens begin to blare in his ears. From across the house he’s at the phone in the hall, immediately replacing Jeanie at the line. “Hey, what’s up?” He keeps his voice light. Maybe it’s nothing. 

“Fer, I need an out. My old man is gonna kill me for this car. I mean it. He’ll find a way to give me hell. If it was his way I’d never come back.” He lets out a breath he doesn’t know he’s holding in. “Please.”

At this point, Ferris has nearly bitten the inside of his cheek raw. He suddenly regrets all the things he’s ever done to put Cameron at risk of being hurt by his old man. Sure, he did think taking the car out was good for Cameron—he always wished Cameron could loosen up and fully enjoy what good things happened to him—but he could’ve never imagined the state it’d be in by the end of the day. He meant it when he said he’d take the heat for this, and he still does. It kills him to know his foolishness could cost Cameron harm. Ever since Ferris Bueller understood just how horrible things get in Cameron’s house he immediately knew he’d always be there for him. It takes a little longer to realize the reverse is true, that he’d be complete and utterly lost without Cameron, and that he needs him to stay sane. He won’t let that show in his words or his tone. He’s gotta be strong right now because that is what Cameron needs.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll get you out of there.” He covers the receiver. “Jeanie, can I use your car?” A silent nod of understanding from his sister. Mrs. Bueller is insisting to take care of it, she’s always liked Cameron, but Ferris wants it all under his control. “I’ll be there soon, alright?” He asks Cameron, hoping he doesn’t know that he’s keeping his voice from shaking. At least he can’t see his hands.

A deep breath. “Thank you, Ferris. Seriously. You don’t understand how much I appreciate this.” Cameron always knows that Ferris is and always will be there for him, but he’s always grateful when he steps up for things like this. 

Like lightning after Jeanie gives him the keys, Ferris races out of his house and hops into his sister’s car. Ferris is thankful for his driver’s license despite his absence of a car. And he’s thankful for Jeanie at this moment, too. And most importantly, for Cameron. He fights every urge to completely speed over there, since he’d never forgive himself for getting a speeding ticket on the way to his best friend’s house. When he gets to Cameron’s he makes his way to Cameron’s window. He’s willing to risk heat from Morris for sneaking Cameron out, and if the man even thinks he’s getting at Cameron for this he’s sorely mistaken. Has Ferris ever fought anyone? Absolutely not, but Morris Frye deserves to have a taste of his own medicine for once in his life. Ferris raps on the window as quietly as he can, his eyes lighting up immediately when Cameron turns to face him. 

Cameron fights a loud, enthusiastic expression of gratitude, but his sentiments remain. “G-d bless Ferris Bueller.” Ferris simply grins. But his eyes widen with concern when he remembers why he’s here. “Wait, Cam. Are you hurt? Did that son of a bitch—” Ferris can’t stop himself from grabbing at Cameron’s arms and getting a bit too close to look at his face.

Cameron chuckles, swatting him away. “I’m fine, Fer. Quit breathing on me. But seriously, I’m alright.” He looks at Ferris, the absolute goof of a best friend right in front of him. Despite his cool exterior, he really does wear his heart on his sleeve. He’s thankful that all those threats that he’d find a new best friend were never serious. Cameron almost embraces him. Almost. He settles for a shared smile. 

“Okay, let’s get the hell out of here.” Ferris rocks back onto his heels and Cameron swiftly stands up from his bed. They get out through the window and shut it tight. 

The ride to Ferris’s is awkward. Ferris wants nothing more than to crack a joke and relieve this tension, but he doesn’t want to disrespect what’s just happened to Cameron. The radio is on low, playing the current hits. When they reach the Bueller’s Cameron is bombarded with concerned but sweet proddings from Mrs. Bueller and a comforting look from Jeanie. Cameron feels a bit lighter already, but he only feels like he can fully breathe once they’re in Ferris’ room. The Cars are softly playing from Ferris’s stereo while Cameron flops directly onto the bed and Ferris sits next to him. 

“Jesus Christ.” Cameron’s voice is muffled against the comforter, and he slowly turns to face up and look at the ceiling. “I hate this. I can’t believe I have to run away to solve my problems.”

“To be fair, you’re not running away. You’re literally 10 miles away from your house. Plus, I helped you escape.” Ferris leans back on his palms and looks at the ceiling too. “Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t done it sooner. I wouldn’t last a day there. I don’t know how you do it. Fuck what Morris says, Cam, you’re the bravest man I know.” He breathes out a sigh and wishes he could say more. 

Cameron shifts and turns to Ferris for a moment. “No way, man. That’s you.” They exchange a glance. Despite being friends for seven years, words like these don’t get shared often between them. “Thank you. Again. Not even just for this, Fer.” He looks at Ferris intensely. “My life outside of that house is what it is because of you. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” 

Ferris averts his gaze, but a smile plays on his lips for a moment. He pauses and draws out the phrase, “You, my love, are worth it all.” 

Cameron’s face is immediately drowned in heat. He doesn’t know why this is so significant but all he feels is his heartbeat in his throat and he can’t help but sit up, dumbfounded. He looks at Ferris and there’s nothing that can convince him the boy was joking. Ferris, inversely, however, is turning pale. 

“What?” That’s all that escapes Cameron’s mouth, but it’s not upset or repulsed. Only curious. 

“Look, Cam, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it and it just slipped out and you’re just great, okay? That’s it. You’re just great, the problem is how great you are.” The words slip out so fast Cameron is just barely hanging on. 

“I’m what?”

“You’re fantastic. You’re everything I could ask in a friend and more and I’ve just been thinking it over for a few days and I’m so sorry I ever jeopardized your safety. I need you and all of this wouldn’t even matter if it wasn’t for you, Cameron.” His eyes, deep with worry and passion all at once meet Cameron’s. And without a second thought Ferris’s hands are cupping his face and he presses a kiss into Cameron’s lips. Cameron’s caught off guard, insanely surprised, but as his heartbeat slows he can hear Ferris’s breath in an exhale and Cameron presses a kiss back into Ferris. Cameron smiles and after a moment Ferris parts from the kiss and looks up at his best friend. 

“Didn’t mean shit, Bueller.” Cameron laughs and all of a sudden the light is back in Ferris’s eyes and Ferris can’t think of anything to do but tackle Cameron in a hug. It knocks Cameron’s lanky frame over, but they just lay there and continue to laugh.

[spirit-of-the-void]

Ebony and Ivory (V x Reader Fanfic) Chapter Two

Author’s Notes: Holy crap, you guys are so kind! Im glad you all are enjoying this story so far! Just be warned, I’m kind of changing the timeline to days instead of hours in this. So they have time to rest and do shit. Its important to the plot ;)

Chapter 2

Upon entering the van, you realized right away that it was in fact a mobile home of sorts. On one end rested a leather couch, the area sized to be a small living space. It smelled of cigarettes and metal, yet also with a slight hint of something unmistakably feminine. A perfume or something. It felt cozy, albeit a bit messy. At that moment it was also pretty cramped. Nero moved to the front to sit by Nico while they discussed their course of action, V taking up a chair behind the driver's seat at a small table. His bird found its perch on an old jukebox off to the side, still looking pretty ruffled from his argument earlier. Did the bird and cat have names? You wanted to ask, but mister pretty boy goth was engaged in speaking to the other two about their plan of attack.

The panther settled down near V’s feet, still close enough to touch. You stared back at their piercing red eyes with silent longing. It looked so soft, and you were going stir crazy while waiting for the others to remember you were there. Gathering your courage and accepting the loss of an appendage, you slid to the floor and sat cross-legged, watching the creature’s pelt ripple warily now that you were closer. Upon further inspection, you realized the cat was a dark blue as well, although much more subtle. It growled lightly at you, ears flicking when kept looking at it hesitantly.  

V was still talking to Nero, discussing the Qlipoth roots they had to destroy. You already had the gist of what needed to be done, so you didn’t really have to listen in. You had always been easily distracted—how you had survived this long with a success rate that high you would never begin to understand. You came here to fix a problem and instead you were trying to win over a big cat, one that looked ready to bite you. You wouldn’t say you were stupid per se, but impulse control was definitely not at the top of your list of skills. Your emotions and desires often got the better of you, that was something very apparent even when you were just a human.

While the others continued to talk, you quietly summoned your Void power, murmuring a quiet incantation as you centered the ability on your palm.  

“From the Void into being.”

From that point energy glowed and weaved, creating the organic object you imagined. One of your many abilities, it was meant to be used when you had zero access to food. With the power you had, you could create something from the nothingness of the Void. That something usually just organic material like meats, fruits. If you absorbed something from a world you could easily replicate it. After going to so many worlds there were hundreds of things you could make, though the energy it took to do that depending on the item was too taxing. And it was only organic materials. Only medicines made from organic plants, only food and things of that nature. And here you were, expending energy to create fresh, raw red meat for this panther.  

Responsible, thy name is Y/N.

After you were finished, it occurred to you that the three had gone quiet. You blinked, and turned to see all of them staring at you. V looking curious and lightly bemused, the other two outright shocked.

“...Uh.” You cleared your throat, “Yeah?”

“Holy shit,” Nico whistled lightly, looking pretty excited all things considered, “How the hell did ya do that...?!”

You looked at the meat in your palm—it was even cold to the touch. Fresh, real and just as real as meat cut from an actual cow. You supposed it would be really fucking strange to people who didn’t have such an ability.

“It’s one of my skills,” You replied, holding out a piece of meat for Nero to take, “Here, touch it. It's real raw meat. I mean, I wouldn’t suggest eating it raw but...You could cook it if you had the time.”

Nero pinched the scrap between his fingers, bringing it up to his nose to sniff. You found yourself smiling at his reaction, patiently waiting as he and Nico both mulled over the meat like it was the most fascinating thing they’d seen all day. You remember being that entranced the first time you tried it, you still remembered the first item you ever made—A chocolate bar. You could still make one now if you wanted, but wasting energy was a bad idea and your dumb ass had already expended some.

“How does it work?” Nero finally questioned, handing the meat back to you and wiping a hand on his jacket.  

You fought a laugh, offering back a rueful smile, “I don’t know the specifics myself. I just know if I absorb an organic material, I can take it and remake it as many times as I want from my energy.”

He made an impressed expression, leaning on the inside door of the van, “That’s pretty damn neat.”

Before you could reply, you hear Nico let out a low hum, one full of mischief.

“Ohhh damn there, Nero. You already warming up to the new girl? Do I need to tell Kyrie?” She tsked, shaking her head as if filled with disappointment.

“Knock it off, Nico,” Nero frowned, crossing his arms over his chest and protesting indignantly, “Are you gonna say that any time I’m friendly to girls?”

“You ain’t friendly to me, pretty boy.”

“Give me somethin’ to be friendly about, you maniac.”

“Who’s Kyrie?” You interjected quickly, trying to diffuse a rising argument peeking over the horizon. And by peeking you meant inches from exploding in this small space you all were in. The pair looked at you when you questioned, and you instantly noticed Nero’s expression soften a little, just a slight difference compared to his cocky expressions you were growing to accept as normal. Clearly this person was special to him, no doubting that.

“Kyrie is his fiancé,” Nico answered for him, jabbing Nero lightly in the shoulder, “Focus, lover boy. She takes care of some kids at an orphanage in Fortuna. A total sweetheart—how she ended up with this punk none of us know.”  

She jabbed a thumb at Nero again, making him huff and release a little peeved “Hey!”

So, he wasn’t a twink?! This revelation both made sense and was vaguely disappointing. Was there a straight equivalent to a twink?

Regardless, you did have a task in mind when you summoned the meat. It occurred to you that V had said nothing during this entire exchange, and you glanced over to see him with a book opened in his hand, eyes scanning the page. Completely indifferent it would seem, which was pretty disappointing. If you were going to lose a hand to his pet cat, you at least wanted him to watch it happen, damn it. Still, you turned to look at the creature while Nero and Nico started to bicker a little bit again, completely distracted—you preferred it that way.

The cat looked at you again, nose twitching as you gingerly held out a piece of meat. A quick glance at the bird confirmed he was watching you like you were out of your god damn mind. That was pretty pleasing if you had to say so. You glanced at V again, and if you weren’t mistaken you thought he took a quick glance at you before delving back into his book.

You took in his appearance for a second--he was definitely an odd one. Long black pants, black sandals, black everything. Yet he carried himself with the energy of an old century poet longing for some lost love. Other than the fact that these two demons worked for him, he seemed pretty normal. The concept of familiars was not lost on you, many places you had seen touched on such things. Witches and warlocks often kept demons as companions and helpers, but you didn’t know if those things existed in this place.

Either way, you didn’t want to bother the goth in his musing. You instead turned to look at the bird on the jukebox, holding some meat out to him too.

“Hey, mister bird,” You quipped, “Do you and the cat have names?”

He looked surprised to be addressed by you again, and even more surprised that you seemed to be offering him food. You saw a gleam of interest in his eyes, but his feathers ruffled, stubborn and prideful as he tilted his head up.

“What’s it to you, princess?” He sneered lightly, clawed feet tapping on the glass top of the jukebox, “And no offense, I don’t wanna eat your weird magic meat!”

You sighed. That nickname again.  

“My name is Y/N,” You frowned in disappointment, “Come on I’m trying to be friendly here.”

He cackled a little, shaking out his tail feathers as the panther sniffed the air, still too wary to walk forward and take any food. You glanced at V again, expecting him to still be reading. You were instead startled when you found his dark green eyes meeting yours, a wry smile tilting his lips as you were caught in your expedition to win over his pet cat. If he was watching he might as well help you at the very least. Though you had to take pause—it had been a while since you found yourself dazed after staring at someone’s face. The guy definitely had the looks to make up for his bad fashion sense.

“Do they have names?” You asked him instead, since the bird was not cooperating at all.  

He closed his book with one hand, the soft thud very satisfying to hear.  

“They do,” He replied simply, much to the bird’s obvious annoyance, “The one you’re very determined to feed is Shadow. And the one you called ‘ten piece’ is Griffon.”

“V!” The bird, now dubbed Griffon, squawked indignantly.

He simply tilted his head, giving him an unapologetic look from underneath some long lashes. Boy, he had a smolder going on. It seemed like V was very passive and confident. His mannerisms were very strange, quiet yet carrying a sense of purpose and energy. You found yourself very fascinated in him—he was fairly mysterious to you. And you liked a good mystery. He also seemed fine with you trying to bribe his pet demons, which was always a plus in your book.

You looked at Shadow, holding out a piece of meat again as the cat twitched its nose at you.

“Come on, Shadow,” You said softly, desperately trying not to use the soft baby voice you generally used for cats. This was a demon and you were sure it was smarter than the average house cat and you didn’t want to insult it, “I swear it’s normal meat. I just wanna be friends.”

You heard Griffon snort loudly, head tilted toward you as he said mockingly, “How could you insult me at first chance but wanna be friends with the overgrown house cat?!”  

Oh jeez, he almost sounded offended. Griffon seemed pretty complicated—you had no doubts he hid behind a wall of insults and jibes to hide loneliness. You had seen it before.

“Don’t call me ‘princess’ and I won't call you ‘ten piece’,” You said with a genuine smile, offering some meat to him again while you felt V’s gaze burning into you from your right side, “Deal?”

He paused, and you swore you could hear the wheels in his head turning. You were a pretty patient person, and you could tell he was battling between pride and a million other things in that moment. You thought you heard a low chuckle from their goth master, your gaze briefly landing on him—he was leaning his head on one hand leisurely, watching to see how your little quest played out. Nico and Nero were arguing about Nero paying for his metal arms, but you couldn’t be bothered with that at that moment.

Suddenly you heard the scrape of claws, beak swooping down to quickly snatch the meat from your left hand. You smiled, incredibly pleased as you watched Griffon quickly slurp down the food you had produced as he took up his perch again. Then from your right you felt the brief brush of soft fur on your palm, a low growl sounding from Shadow as they too snatched some meat and slinked back away from you, curling around V’s legs as they chewed. You cheered internally, wiping your hands as you released a slow breath. You were easy to please it would seem—and pleased you were.

You heard V chuckle again, the man sitting forward and resting his hands on his cane as he grinned at you, eyebrow raised.

“Well now,” he remarked, tone so low and smooth it could have put you to sleep, “Don’t you look as smug as a peacock.”

You shrugged, leaning back against the couch and drawing your knees up to your chest, “It’s the little victories.”

“Oh?” He hummed in reply, fingers tapping on that cane, “An optimist are you?”

You snorted, “Maybe. I just find being happy about every little thing makes life a lot better.”

Before V could reply, Nico sat down behind you, her feet brushing against your side as she lit up what appeared to be a cigarette. You tilted her head back to look at her, wincing a little when you were met with a cloud of tobacco smoke. The sudden urge to stand and leave was pretty overwhelming, smoking was definitely not your favorite thing, as much as you liked Nico as a person. You saw V mimic your discomfort, waving a hand through the smoke to clear it away from his face.

“So, uh, Y/N,” Nico commented, blowing another cloud of smoke as she addressed you, “What other kind of funky shit can you do?”

You couldn’t really tell her your range of abilities. Not then at least, maybe later when you knew who was worth trusting. You had your limits like most creatures, but you drew energy from a strange and mysterious source—technically there was a lot you could do, but your body had limits. The power of the Void was heavy and chaotic, deeply hard to wield and a heavy burden at times. Too much at once could damage you, and you had an amount of energy you could use before you started to overextend. You’d be useless if you did so, and it damaged you physically so you avoided such things at all costs. You knew your limits; you weren’t meant to be a magic fix-all for these scenarios. Merely a guiding hand with enough energy to put the steps of fixing it into motion. Thus, why you had the foresight.

So you decided on the safest answer.

“I can provide energy and heal wounds depending on their severity,” You said, tapping your nails on your knees, “Plus I can use the energy to fight, and you already saw the creating aspect. I have a limit though, and passing that limit is dangerous for me.”

Nico let out a thoughtful noise, eyeing you with a mix of curiosity and fascination.

“So like, what are ya then?” She puffed more ash, making a perfect “o” shape with her mouth, “You seem human. Are ya half anythin’? Maybe ya got a demon daddy somewhere down the line.”

You shrugged at that, offering an apologetic smile as you replied, “Nothing that exciting. I get my powers from a deity of sorts—someone down the line probably made a deal for magic and I get the sloppy seconds from that.” Kind of a lie, kind of not. They didn’t need to know you were the one who made the deal.

“Whoa, that’s pretty cool!” Nico blinked, staring at you like you had grown horns, “Never heard of anythin’ like that before.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but was interrupted by V slowly rising to his feet. He was still waving away the smoke, brushing past you toward the door of the van as his companions followed him.

“I’ll be taking my leave now,” He said simply, offering Nero a half smile, “And If I don’t see you along the way...I’ll see you at the bottom of the Qliphoth.”

You felt a slight twinge of disappointment. You knew they were talking of splitting up earlier, but you were kind of hoping you could spend more time with the animals he kept with him. And, well...with him. He was a lot calmer and more collected than Nero, who’s heavy energy was a bit much for you if you were truly honest. As for Nico...the smoking was just too much. Brought back too many bad memories. The sensation of smoke in your face was definitely not welcome.  

You opened your mouth, unable to figure out how to ask if you could go with him. Luckily, you didn’t have to.

“V, take Y/N with you,” Nero put a hand on V’s shoulder, stopping him half out the door, “You could use the help.”

You saw V visibly pause, hesitation now showing in his frame as a couple seconds passed by.

“I assure you, I have the help I need,” He said simply, gesturing with his cane to Griffon and Shadow.

Nero crossed his arms, letting out an annoyed huff, “You’re pretty frail as it is, V. I don’t think your little bird friend can wrap a bandage and shit. You could use the healing energy and extra fire power as back up.”

There was another lengthy pause. Despite your mission here, you felt kind of guilty. You didn’t want to burden anyone or force your presence here—you had gotten the needed information, but this...You bit your lip, exchanging a glace with Nico as the silence stretched a bit longer than you liked. In theory you could have gone off on your own, did your own fighting. It would have been easier without hiding your powers, but these people made your foresight burn. They were a part of everything, at the very forefront of the conflict you were trying to fix. Whether with Nero or V, you'd still be getting the job done...but this was based on preference now.  

You nervously stood, brushing off dirt as you stepped up to address the two men.

“I don’t want to be forced on anyone,” You murmured, meeting Nero’s concerned gaze as you continued, “I’ll try to be useful where I can, but if V is uncomfortable, I—”

“Her presence is fine by me,” V interrupted you, despite how low and docile his tone was. Both you and Nero looked at him, but he met your gaze with one filled with calm curiosity, “I do have my moments of exhaustion. Nero is right, I could use a backup when that happens.”

Was that relief? Sure was. You tried not to let it show on your face.

Nero, however, released an obviously relieved sigh, “Perfect. I’m sure we’ll meet up somewhere along the way. Until then, Y/N, watch his back.”

Griffon let out an annoyed huff, raising a clawed foot at Nero’s face, “What are me and furball here for then? You don’t trust us, pretty boy?”

“Yep,” Nero replied simply, brushing past with an obviously fake smile and a pat on your shoulder, “Be safe, you two. Nico, I’ll call if I need anything.”

As you said that you felt a hand press a small piece of paper into your palm, your head turning to see Nico standing to your right now. You looked at the paper, seeing a phone number hastily scribbled there, along with Nico’s name.

“That’s my number,” She told you, tapping the paper twice, “Ya need anythin’ you find a phone and call, ya hear?”

You nodded, absorbing the paper into your palm after memorizing the number, “Thank you, Nico.” You would definitely call at some point, to see her if anything. Nico seemed friendly enough under the rough persona she projected. You liked that about her. It had been a while since you had any real friends, or friendly people to interact with. You had no idea how long you’d be there, but you were eager to savor every moment of it that you could get. So you patted Nico’s shoulder once and offered a kind smile, turning to meet V’s gaze again.

He gestured with his cane, that half smile still on his lips.

“Shall we?”

You nodded, following him and his companions out of Nico’s van. The door closed behind you, the sun still shining outside. You put up a hand to shield your eyes, but enjoyed the warmth regardless. It would have been a beautiful summer day if not for all the chaos in the world. You gave the van behind you a passing glance as you followed V away, unsure about how you felt about the whole situation. What the hell were you supposed to talk about? Would he even want to talk? Silence made you very nervous, but you didn’t want to be annoying either. You found yourself clasping your hands behind your back, taking small looks at V’s back when he walked. His shoulders were pretty broad for a guy so wiry. He had very slight muscle definition, and upon further inspection he did seem...frail.

Was he sickly? You frowned a little at the thought. He did walk with a cane, though you couldn’t tell if he had a limp or anything. His gate seemed steady, eyes fixed forward and...driven. He seemed very driven.

Or you assumed he was focused. He surprised you enough that you jumped when he spoke.

“There was always the option of staying behind,” He commented lightly, tilting that dark gaze to you with his typical wry smile. He never seemed to lose that little crooked smirk, like he was always in a state of constantly bemused. The only time he was without it was when he was reading that book.

“You seem very convinced that I wanted to stay behind,” You replied, jogging lightly to reach his side, “What’s that all about?”

He let out a light, thoughtful sound, tone light as he replied, “Merely an observation. You seemed to enjoy Nico’s company.”

You hummed quietly in response, taking in the buildings as you and V entered a part of the city still standing, albeit pretty damaged nonetheless. It looked like it would have been a nice city before the disaster. Gothic architecture with high windows, beautiful shops and what looked to be a market place in a city square. Or at least...they were beautiful once before. Now destroyed, bodies littering the streets frozen in their dying moments. You felt your heart sink as you passed them, seeing a child's form still holding a red balloon as ashes drifted from what remained of her.

Focus, the goth boy started a conversation.

“Nico is nice,” You replied after some thought, trying to shake off the images around you, “Nero is too. All three of you have been kind to me. But what can I say? I like animals and poetry.” You sighed softly, rubbing your arm as you added, “I also can’t stand cigarettes.”

He chuckled at that, tapping the book tucked away in his vest with light fingers. You took the time to observe that he had nice hands, elegant and beautiful.  

“That’s very understandable, although I am glad you find enjoyment in my musings,” He said, turning his head away once more, “It's going to be a long journey, so I’m sure you’ll be hearing a lot of it.”

You smiled lightly, running your fingers along a building as you passed by, “Can I ask about that? What’s up with the whole poetry thing?”

You saw him pause, both Griffon and Shadow stopping with him as he turned to look at you with a pondering expression.  

“...Strange,” He replied after a few moments, that half smirk coming back again, “You are the first person who asked me.”

Nero and Nico never once thought to ask? You blinked, wondering just why the hell no one had thought it was strange he just reads poetry at all times. Which, mind you, normalcy wasn’t your strong suit either, and you didn’t have a problem with his poetry reading. The more you thought about it, the more it made sense that they wouldn’t ask. From what you saw of Nero’s fighting style...he was pretty god damn extra. And Nico was not normal in the slightest. Everyone in the group was a bit quirky and odd in their own way, and you found that comforting.

“I was just curious,” You replied, scratching the back of your head, “Which, mind you, if it’s a private thing you don’t have to tell me.”

He let out a low hum, giving his cane a light twirl again.

“I find poetry clears the mind and brings focus in clarity in moments where there is none,” He still told you his reasoning, giving you a smoldering glance from under those lashes, “One could also argue a flare for the dramatic.”

Translation: He was just as extra as Nero, just in different ways.

You fought a laugh, clasping your hands behind your back as you replied, “Noted.”  

He hummed in response, starting forward again with a tap of that cane. Griffon soared behind you, landing his talons on your shoulders with a solid “oof” from you both as you stumbled a little to accommodate his weight. He wasn't light by any stretch of the word, he was a big bird. He just barely managed to settle, resting half his weight on your head as he trilled quietly and huffed.

“So, what’s your deal, Y/N?” His voice was loud in your ear, sharp talons scratching you ever so slightly, “Got all those fancy powers and shit, just wandering around a broken city? What were you doing there?”

Griffon was asking the questions you had hoped to avoid. You let out a low murmur of thought, inhaling softly through your nose as you formulated your response.

“I’m...kind of a drifter,” You decided to reply, grasping onto his clawed feet to help steady him as you walked, “I like traveling from place to place, and I like helping people. I had been looking in the ruins for anyone who may have needed help, and to see if I could figure out what was going on. In a way, it worked out." It wasn't a lie. You told yourself that.

You heard him let out a quiet “huh”, shaking out his feathers a little as his beak rested on your head. You smiled, enjoying that Griffon seemed more comfortable in your company now.  

“So, you have the gist of the situation right? Got any more questions?” He asked, tapping your head with his beak.

You winced a little, “From what I gathered...Urizen is a bad boy who did bad things and he needs a spanking in that big tree in the sky,” You pointed at the Qliphoth as you spoke, looking up at the towering behemoth with a disgusted gaze, “A guy named Dante may or may not be up there and need saving. Is that everything or am I missing something?”

Griffon snickered lightly, “Nah, that sounds about right.”

“Great. Then no, I don’t have any more questions.” That was a lie, you had several, but they were all more about personal things than the mission itself. You didn’t want to seem nosy and pry in on their business.  

You saw V smirk at you again from the corner of your eye, but by the time you turned to look he had turned away again. You frowned lightly, wishing you could even slightly begin to figure him out. He was full of mystery and intrigue, mild mannered and polite. But he also seemed easily amused, and pretty extra if you were being completely honest. He was a hard guy to read; mind you, you had only known him a few hours. You had plenty of time to figure it out, right?

You entered a small entry way tunnel of sorts, footfalls echoing as you both approached what looked to be an open back alley in the city. Griffon launched himself from your shoulders, causing you to stumble again and huff. You rubbed the skin there, feeling scratches through the think fabric of your shirt. You didn’t mind Griffon perching, but damn. His claws really did hurt. V looked at you again as Griffon glided ahead of you both, and you were sure you saw his gaze linger on the shoulders you had just rubbed. Upon further inspection you realized there was slight red on the fabric of your shirt from where griffon scratched you.

“Griffon,” He spoke, eyes meeting yours before he glanced at the bird, “Gentler.”

“Whoops, Oops, my bad,” Griffon trilled as he rounded back, seeing what V meant as he swept past you, “Girlie’s got fragile skin.”

You rolled your eyes, “I have normal skin, birdie,” You smiled again, looking at V as you said, “And don’t worry. I’m just happy he doesn’t outright dislike me.” You said that last part quieter, leaning toward V so only he could hear.

V chuckled, “Griffon is a simple creature. A mere bribe of food and he’s already on your side,” He tapped his cane along the concrete walls of the tunnel, the sound echoing hollowly in the space ahead of you, “As for you, Y/N...you don’t' really seem bothered by demons like Nero and the others.”

He was right, you weren’t. Sure, Demons were the enemy in this case and this scenario. But his companions were loyal to him, and in your travels, you had met plenty of kind demons and people who were labeled with bad stigmas. Making assumptions was bad, and you didn’t like doing that. Besides, neither of his creatures had threatened or wronged you—Griffon's taunting seemed harmless enough, and he was done with nicknames for the most part. As for Shadow, you were determined to get close enough to this cat to pet it, that's all you wanted. But V didn't need to know about that strange obsession of yours.

“I don’t make assumptions about people,” you replied, looking down at Shadow as it slinked along beside its master, “Kindness can exist in all manner of things, and your companions haven’t been outright unkind to me either. So why should I be unkind to them?” Empathy always came first before fighting—you much preferred making friends compared to outright hating literally everyone you met. Hell, some of the conflicts you had faced were resolved with just a little kindness and empathy. People would be surprised what you could accomplish if you just tried to help people.

V gave you a respectful nod at your response, a breeze traveling through the tunnel and sending his hair drifting slightly. You looked away, trying not to think about how nice that looked.  

Continuing forward, you and the group came out into the alleyway back into the sunlight. You looked around, seeing more debris and graffiti everywhere you looked. The hairs on the back of your neck started to stand up a little, foresight warning you something bad was about to occur if you kept walking. You held out a hand and grabbed V’s shoulder before you walked further, eyes scanning the area warily as that gentle breeze blew through again. Something was definitely here; you could tell that much. V looked at you, then looked around as well, gripping his cane tighter as Shadow growled and stepped forward, teeth bared and saliva dripping from its maw.

As soon as the cat entered the clearing, Demons began to appear, bubbling up from the ground and materializing into existence. The exit behind you was closed by tumbling rubble, and all other escapes blocked by...a shield of sorts? You stared in shock and confusion, sending what looked like red, magic veins and magic blocking any way out. This was a trap of sorts then. You and V exchanged a glance, and you were surprised to see he was incredibly calm, slightly bemused even. He walked forward slightly, your hand dropping from his shoulder as you warily waited to see what he would do.

Griffon swooped overhead, cackling as he said to V, “Oooh, genius says ‘be careful’! Yeah no shit, Shirley! Ain’t that right, V?” he swooped past your head, causing your hair to blow in that direction as he squawked, “I mean I know you’ve got girl wonder here now and all but you ARE still fragile, V! Wouldn’t take much to wipe you out in a sticky situation!”

You activated your Void power as he spoke, stepping up beside V as the sensation burned through the veins of your hands. You and V exchanged a look, you offering a light smile as you told him, “I’ve got your back.”

He inclined his head, giving you a small nod and twirling that silver cane.

“Excellent.”

Griffon made a noise of pain at your words, swooping by again as he continued, “Yeah well I’m just sayin’ running away is okay. It’s always okay to run away if you two aren’t up to it!”

You rose a brow, knowing damn well running away wasn’t really an option with how these demons were looking. In theory, you could use your Void powers to grab them all and yeet yourselves upward, over the shields and to somewhere safe. But these demons seemed easy enough. Squishy, one might say. The basic bitch of demons. You scrunched up your nose as one screeched at you, sending the stench of his breath your way. Yeah, that was definitely not your favorite thing.

On your left, V pulled out his book, opening it with one hand as he looked out at the demons with a half smile.

“He who desires but act not, breeds pestilence,” He read in that smooth tone, voice lilting and almost relaxing in the situation. He closed the book with a gentle thud, eyes tilting forward again as he inclined his head at the demons, “So it is written.”

You heard Griffon sigh, tone slightly exasperated as he landed on V’s outstretched arm, “Okay, Shakespeare, just remember this,” He shook out his feathers, a low growl in his tone as he continued, "You and I like to exist, so get rid of those demons quick, 'cause killin' them ain't my shtick!"  

You stifled a laugh, watching as he flew forward toward the demons, wings glowing with a bright blue mixed within the dark feathers.

“I got your back, ‘cause dyin’ is whack!” He finished his little improvised poem with a hefty cackle, Shadow stepping forward as well to punctuate it with a roar at the approaching creatures.

A second later, the battle began.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18136193/chapters/42882122#workskin

Tagged: @silentwhispofhope @just-call-me-no-name @nightshadow4713 @slightlylunatic

[morphituu]

Milagro

Chapter 2: At Last

Ch. 1 - 

A long yawn interrupted his reading of the paper in hand, and he tightened his broad body, pressing as deep as possible into the passenger seat. The briefing was bland as usual, same thing every week. A compiled stack of papers that amounted to possible sightings of Bright’s or wand activity, their locations, dates, descriptions he had to skim over in case anything seemed familiar. It was mind numbing, but if it kept him out of the hole for the incident years ago with Tikka, he’d bear it. His mind might collapse in on itself in the process though.

Activity seemed to have kicked up around the outskirts of LA, but there was nothing to be alarmed about if the paperwork was any say indication of it. If there had been, Nick would’ve been sat in a cramped office with MTF, answering the same questions he’d memorized perfectly in order from all the years of interrogations.

He chuffed silently, rolling a peppercorn from his pasta he’d taken for lunch between his canines.

The last few pages were always dedicated to Tikka and the grave importance of her being apprehended, but still, nothing sparked his interest or alerted him, not even the paragraph where there was a supposed sighting in San Diego. He just couldn’t believe she’d wander back to LA after what happened.

Nick folded the papers and stuffed them in the glove compartment. Everything there he’d heard that morning, anyways.

Instead he scrolled through his phone as he took hearty bites of the pasta, mindlessly looking through Facebook videos and news articles- same shit, different day. Nick rarely liked anything on Instagram; he’d only gotten it so Callie could tag him in the long stream of photos she posted, detailing their everyday life and sometimes the more private aspects. Cautious he was about staring down at his lover in some of the revealing photos while working. Popping a boner was dangerous on the job.

He opened another app, observing where they were that day and grinned before flashing over to message Callie.

Its the size of an apple today

The drivers side door yanked open and another officer climbed in, slamming the door behind himself.

“Chill out,” Nick mumbled, taking another bite but leaving the fork between his teeth, reading her reply.

Really cause i feel like i have an eggplant in me

He smirked. Stick my eggplant in you if you want

“They act like I’m fucking contagious or something,” the younger Orc spat, and Nick snorted.

“Get used to it,”

“No respect- not even for a cop,” he went on, unwrapping his sandwich hotly.

“You’re telling me stuff I already know, kid,” Nick exhaled, stifling a chuckle when Callie responded, Only if you bring me home more cheeeese

“When did they stop harassing you?” the rookie asked, looking at Nick with worried brows. Nick’s head leaned back against the headrest, running his tongue over his filed tusks as he thought it over, but in the end, grinning again.

“When you joined,” Nick smiled sarcastically and his young partner looked down to his sandwich dispondantly. “It gets easier when they get used to you,”

“Or when another Orc joins and carries the burden…” Sergey mumbled, taking a bite of his sandwich. Nick nodded indifferently. Sergey was quite young compared to when Nick finally made it into the Academy and onto being an officer, but he had a good heart despite being a little skittish and hot headed at times. His tusks had been filed like Nick’s, but he’d been blooded young- something about resuscitating a toddler at a pool, ah, he couldn’t remember. Not like he could gloat about his own blooding. Either way, it meant most Orcs didn’t chastise him like they had Nick, which in turn made their jobs a little easier.

“It’s bullshit,” Sergey chuffed.

"You wanted to join- that’s on you. What’s bullshit is Heig making us work the afternoon before the banquet,” Nick reasoned, returning to the message.

Im getting a costco bag this time. Does pucca need food?

“You’re going?” Sergey asked, a cheekful of sub.

“We have to go,”

“Oh fuck- Dura is going to kill me. I told her we didn’t have to go,” he griped, holding his head.

“Anytime the LAPD is doing something expect to have to go,”

His phone vibrated in his hand again. Nah she’s good. Im off at 4 today

Nick finished the last bite of his food before replying, Okay. Dont forget to take your vitamin

“You’re taking Callie?” Sergey asked, looking over to Nick yawning again and sliding down his seat as he stretched as best he could in the cramped space.

“Wouldn’t go without her,” he told him, his phone face down on his chest.

“Gonna tell people tonight?” the young Orc piped, his ears twitching when Nick side eyed him. Nosey little asshole.

“Not like we could hide it. If anyone says anything to her I might throw a table,” Nick grumbled.

“Even if, it’s none of their business. People delve into others shit for their daily dose of drama and then don’t want to assume any of the responsibility afterwards. Like humans abandoning babies,” Sergey rattled, his accent coming forth a little.

Nick had turned his shoulders in his seat, looking at him a little aghast. “Such depth- is that why Dura puts up with you?”

“It is because I’m the darkest hue of grey she’s ever seen.” he flaunted, earning a scoff from Nick. It was true- Sergey was a very muted color compared to most Orcs that were painted in swirls of green or blue tones.

Nick’s shoulder radio sounded, and the two listened for the call to the accident. Sergey took a couple more heaving bites of his sandwich as Nick responded, instructing him to turn on the lights before siren until they’d pulled onto the street.

↠

His day closed around 2, uneventful, and he liked it that way. Coming home pissed off wasn’t necessarily a bad thing when Callie willingly offered herself up as a sexual ragdoll for him to blow off steam, but being in more delicate condition meant having to withhold some of the roughness she adored. He was left with time to head to Costco before he had to pick her up, which by this time on a Friday, would be packed, and her method of dealing with rude shoppers who bumped into her uncaringly was… hostile, to say the least.

Nick grinned to himself as he palmed the wheel to park the truck. Already so protective.

He wandered aimlessly, up and down the aisles, grabbing this and that, knowing he was forgetting something that he’d only remember once home; it happened every time. He grabbed the massive bag of shredded cheese and moved on with his cart, snatching samples as he passed the small stands. As always, he stopped to look over the books, mostly for himself, but kept an eye out for a new Stephen King novel- yep, there it was. Now Callie would have something to do during her appointments that seemed to drag on and on for hours. But another one caught his eye and he picked it up.

Multi-race Baby Names: 1000+ Choices for Your Little Surprise

Nick scoffed. “Surprise?” he said under his breath. 1000, huh? That was also placed in the cart and purchased.

The drive to the bank was decent. In that neighborhood, people drove angrily, like they were the only ones that mattered on the road. It resulted in him flashing his badge at a particular asshole who kept trying to shove his way in front of Nick when the lanes merged. Nick couldn’t help but laugh a little sarcastically. Years in, and he was over being prim and proper just so people wouldn’t mind the Orc cop.

He parked the truck in front, pulling out his phone to tell her he was waiting.

He thumbed through the book he got for himself, reading the preface as he snacked from a monstrous box of crackers he’d bought; Sci-fi was becoming a new favorite of his.

A soft, carrying whistle caught his attention and he looked up, smiling at the pretty face that tuned the two-note whistle as she walked to the truck, her growing belly poking out from between the smartly pressed jacket she wore over her dress suit.

“Hey baby,” Nick said as she struggled to hoist herself up into the truck, tossing her bag to the floorboard along with her folder packed with paperwork, grunting when she curled over her stomach. “How was work?”

“I’m on the verge of firing Isabel. I’ve never met someone so fucking lazy and sorry for themselves, ugh! And she always attacks people for being more committed than her? She tried to get on me for being branch manager and I was this close-” she basically mashed her thumb and index together, “This close to knocking her on her ass,” she leaned over to give him a quick kiss.

“Don't forget you’re preg-”

“I didn’t work my ass off to feel bad that she can’t manage to make it in 3 of the 6 days she works-” she angrily tied her hair up. “Fuck that,” she yanked the seatbelt over her stomach, arching her back to better settle in the seat and slipping an ankle under her thigh once kicking off a heel. “And I need maternity clothes. I can’t keep squeezing into these shirts,” she huffed, letting her head bounce back against the seat with a hard exhale. “Fuck I’m winded,”

“Little thing getting too big already?” he asked affectionately, backing out of the spot.

“Your dad was right when he said you’d make big babies,” she smirked.

“We could skip the banquet and go shopping,” he tried, flashing a devious grin but only receiving an unamused glare in return.

“I didn’t spend all that money on a dress to let it go to waste. You can’t weasel your way out of the suit,”

“I hate suits,” he grumbled, his hand instinctively moving to her stomach when he pulled up to a busy road he had to turn onto.

“Mhm. Did you get the cheese?”

“And a few other things,” he motioned to the box in the backseat. Her legs bounced in excitement at the newest Stephen King, but she passed it to look over the baby names, also pulling a cheese stick from her purse as she flipped through the pages.

“We should also make a list of names we won’t use,” she commented dryly, and he snorted.

“Like?”

“Bog- Bogdub?” she pronounced slowly, her nose scrunching. “I like Lorn though. Shat? Shat is a name?” she exclaimed.

“Really old name,” he palmed the wheel as they pulled into a drive-thru across the street, lowering his window. “What’ya want?”

“You’re getting takeout?” her brows drew in together.

“There’s only gonna be snacks and drinks at the thing,”

“Oh, okay, eehhmm… 2 five-layered burritos with guac and crema,” she said through the corner of her mouth.

“Better not have fish in it,”

“It’s a Taco Bell, mensito.” she ribbed, his flat look making her giggle.

They drove home with pleasant conversation drifting between them, his hand remaining on her stomach and his thumb rubbing absentmindedly over the baby that had caused an unexpected bout of nausea that morning, but had subsided in time for her to order her favorite item on the menu.

Once home, he carried their bags and Costco purchases in one hand and kept his other arm around her shoulders, pulling her tightly against his side to plant firm kisses on her temple, Callie pushing half-heartedly against his chest as she laughed against his affections. Pucca was already barking inside, jumping at eye level excitedly once the door had opened.

Both of them took the time to smother her with kisses and silly questions about how her day was, the chubby pitbull wiggling side to side to keep up with the lightning speed of her wagging tail as her parents showered her with love.

Callie only bothered enough to take off her jacket and unbutton her shirt once sat at the table, far too eager to dig into her meal with Pucca’s chin rested on her thigh; she gave her little scraps, baby talking endlessly to the pretty eyed pitbull. Nick had started sitting at an angle in his seat beside her, making room on his lap for her restless feet so she didn’t fidget uncomfortably.

“What time is the thing tonight?”

“Six,” Nick barely got out. She had a brilliant habit of asking him something whenever his mouth was full.

She twisted her wrist to look at her watch. “Doesn’t leave much time to get ready,”

“Don’t rush. As long as we show up it’s fine,”

The final bite of her food washed down her throat with her drink, standing to ball her wrappers and toss them.

“I’m gonna shower real quick.” she called from the kitchen, speed walking as she pulled her dress shirt down her arms, Pucca at her heels.

“Mhm,” unconsciously he hummed around his food, pushing some around with his fork when his eyes flickered up in realization. He sat straight with his neck extended, listening intently from the table; the shower curtain rings scraping across the pole, the water springing from the shower head. Nick started to cover his food and gather his trash, his eyes remaining trained on the entrance to the hallway.

By the time it was all shoved crudely into the takeout bag, he was on his feet, and had heard the shower curtain open and close again.

There was no reason to, but he still tiptoed down the hall as he pulled his shirt forward from his shoulder blades, pushing his face into the cracked door so it opened a little more.

Thinking of how the water streamed down her naked body only provoked his eagerness, which in turn made him a little clumsy in his impatience to push his pants and briefs down and yank his socks off.

“Nick?” she called loudly from the other side of the curtain, and he took the opportunity to poke his head in.

“Yeah?”

She spun with a short screech, her hands hidden in her bubbly, lathered hair.

“What’re you doing?” she started to grin, scratching her scalp as he stepped into the narrow shower, now even more of a tighter fit with a wide shouldered Orc before her.

“I needed a shower too,” he said against her neck, partially squatting to wrap his arms around her middle, her distended stomach right below his pecs. He tried to hide his flinch when the searing water ran over his scalp, and she laughed at the way he tensed and grunted.

He flinched from under it, wincing as he spit some from his mouth. “S’like fire,”

“Only way to get clean,” she smirked, bending back under the water to shake her fingers between her soaked tresses, the raining shampoo following the curves and dips of her body.

Nick felt his eyes heavy, as well as his breathing when he watched how her honey-golden skin shone from the miniscule light coming in. He was already salivating, inhaling deeply to find her scent, but there was too much steam and the smell of her fragrant shampoo around them.

The soft brush of his touch across her nipples shot goosebumps down her sides, her eyes opening to find his burning ambers as he stepped into her space. His thumbs rolling and swiping stirred a soft sigh from Callie and her arms fell around his shoulders loosely when he leaned down to adorn her wet skin with kisses and soft bites, his hands catching the curve of her back when she craned backwards.

His tongue was hotter than the water running over them, his nipping, sharp teeth a pleasant shock every now and then, either around a nipple or biting along the soft sides of her breasts.

“No point in a shower if you’re gonna be dirty,” she murmured when he fisted his hand in her hair after standing straight, a hard kiss to follow.

“Dirty is better than filthy,” he growled, and she smiled when he gripped her bare ass.

“Says you,”

He eyed her, wanting nothing more than to sink his teeth into her again, but also fuck her until she was blind. Her soft touch grazing up his hardened dick made him grunt, his eyes fluttering when she pumped him.

“Mhm,” she kissed into his jaw, then down his neck, finally resting back on her heels when she reached his chest. “You like it dirty, don’t you?” she questioned seductively, un-needing of an answer; she knew.

Nick shuddered in anticipation as she kissed down his chiseled belly, her hands dragging down his ass and thighs. A soft kiss at his inner hip started a hard tremble in his legs; that was his pressure point she only sometimes took advantage of. Finally she gazed up at him as she took his hard member into her hands, finding his desperate eyes.

It always left his mind a pile of useless muscle when she did this. He’d before questioned inwardly how she’d become so good at the way she took his dick to the back of her throat and rotated her hands so perfectly along his shaft at the same time, but by the time the question arose in him this time, he was already bracing himself against the shower wall, his hips rocking into her hot mouth.

And she encouraged it. She’d pull on his hips when he slowed, her attentive touch winding up his clenching stomach, her eyes keeping his when she’d let him fall from her hot mouth onto her chin- fuck, that thin string of spit made him whimper- before letting him rock back in, his direction the only guide back between her lips.

Nick pressed his face into his arm, exhaling harshly when she squeezed along his shaft. Forget the hot water running down his back, or the drops waterfalling over his shoulders- all he could focus on was the soft scrape of her teeth and the way her tongue shaped to his girth perfectly.

“Fuck, Callie,” he ground out, fighting with every shread of restraint left not to pin her arms above her head and fuck her face.

“Feeling filthy?” she teased, her tongue gliding up along the underside of his dick.

Nick shivered.

She gasped as he lifted her from under her arms in a flash, holding her face to kiss her harshly.

His rigid cock was rested against her stomach, and already her hands were around him again, stroking up to his head where her thumb could swipe over the tip and move the thick beads of precum around.

“Stop,” he breathed heavily, again squatting before her, but to pull up from under her ass until her legs wrapped around him.

Her stomach hadn’t grown big enough to stop this… yet.

A wavering moan fell from him when he merely brushed against her cunt while carefully hooking his arms under her knees, his palms flat against the tile wall.

She was open, and ready, and he didn’t need to smell her to know she’d been prepared for this since he first stepped into the shower. He could see it in the feral glint of her caramel pools, and her mouth hung open, her full lips begging to be kissed.

But Nick liked to take his time.

Despite her pleas, he pushed in agonizingly slow, always groaning loudly for that first slide in.

She kissed him with abandon, her blunt nails pinching every so often as he loved her from tip to base, the deep pumps leaving her limp in his hold.

“Apurate,” she sighed, her tongue lapping against his teasingly. She tasted like the water dripping down their faces, her lips still soft as he stole a few slow pecks.

“Shut your big mouth,” he played, hissing when she bit down on his bottom lip. He snapped his hips forward once, a gasp falling from her wide smile.

“You like my big mouth,”

“Yeah when it’s around my big dick,”

“Oo, getting cocky?” she asked, clinging to him when he fired into her. Callie’s head fell back, her body thrusting up and down against the wall as he fucked her, gazing down at her bouncing breasts. She cursed, and cried, her toes curling on either side of him.

“Keep saying cock,” he groused, kissing her turned jaw.

“Then fuck me harder with that big cock,” she simpered, watching one of his hairless brows rise before her repositioned his feet and fucked her without restraint.

Immediately she locked up, under an assault she couldn’t flee from, but squirming from this would be foolish when he so perfectly caressed her hidden treasure, turning her words to clustered cries and sending her eyes rolling back into her skull.

“Yes-” she choked, heavy hands holding his face. “Fuck me, fuck me just like that,” she near laughed, smiling widely as the bliss started its slow build-up.

He kissed her sparingly, unwanting of those delicious moans to be smothered, stifling his own so he could hear clearly the way she begged in his name. It sounded like a holy prayer, the way it rolled off her tongue; it made him feel like he was the one to be worthy of worship.

“Baby-,” he panted, dropping his face to her neck when his groin area started to tighten. “Baby I’m gonna cum,”

“Not yet,” she begged, “Just a lil’ longer,”

But he continued, entranced completely.

“Nick,” she breathed, and he had enough power in him to stop from thrusting back in, his head hidden inside her smooth pussy. No way he could stay like this for long. He was teetering on the brink, wanting so badly to throw himself over that brilliant edge.

“Rub your clit,” he ordered, and watched, and moaned, fighting the burning urge to fuck her again as she rubbed her swollen clit rapidly.

“Do you like it?” she asked, but his head didn’t lift as he nodded, daring a slow, single pump as she carried on. His arms shook from the power of his hands pressing into the shower wall.

“Do you still wanna fuck me?” she whispered, grinning at the desperation in his face.

“Don’t do that,” he whined, daring another slow pump, pressing tight enough into her that she moved up the wall.

“Fuck me then,” she moaned, her breath fluttering. Nick recognized that. “Fuck me,”

He obeyed, a loud, shuddering moan coming forth as he shifted back into that steady rhythm again.

“You’re gonna make me cum baby,” her voice was peaking, her head hanging forward as the once flawless flicks of her wrist became erratic, and then her hand pulled back altogether. ”Oh there, oh there-”

There was a long moment of her eyes pinched shut and jaw hung before she let go of her long symphony of moans, her hips circling as much as possible as the euphoria stretched across her shaking form.

It only took a few pulses of her pussy around him to finally have him falling into that pool of ecstasy, pressed balls deep into her quivering cunt as he drained in her, thick shots of semen pulsing from his dick again and again.

Where once the water splashing down them had been forgotten, it was now preventing her from holding around his shoulders comfortably, and he at last looked at her, bumping her nose a few times as they both struggled to even their breathing.

“We need to bathe in holy water after that,” she cracked, and he snorted, placing a few good kisses on her cheek before carefully letting her down. It was almost comical the way he popped from her, grunting quietly when his still shrinking dick felt vulnerable without her warmth around him.

“Now I’m too lazy to finish,” she sighed, a hand over her tightened stomach and the other reaching to pump conditioner in her palm, uncaring of the aftermath leaking down the insides of her thighs.

“So I guess you washing my back is out of the question?” he pouted.

“Only if you wash me first,” she played, her long hair held up in a wet pile atop her head.

Callie hadn’t actually expected him to, but when he squeezed a tiny mountains worth of her silky body wash into his palm, she turned, already turning to jelly in his hold as he massaged it all along her body. Across her menacing crow tattoo that adorned her shoulder blades, and down her toned arms to her hands that he cupped in his, wrapping them around herself when he circled her.

She turned her cheek into his kiss, relishing in his sturdy chest against her back and his protective hands holding either side of her stomach.

Now he could smell her- even above the body wash. There was Callie’s vanilla, and the savory essence of pregnancy that reminded him of her blood he’d savored when he first bit her, and now there was him, seasoning her like the final pinch to a perfect dish.

She was all of them- a tailor made perfume just for him.

One hand lingered over her stomach where the other moved around her, holding close what he owed his happiness to. But alarming pride also coarsed through him. Seeing her grow with pregnancy made him animalistic, almost; there was nothing like seeing evidence of what he’d done with his mate literally show before him like that.

“I did this,” he declared softly, fingertips pressing mindfully into her round belly. “I put a baby in you,”

She reached back to hold his opposite cheek, planting a few lingering kisses on the one closest to her. “That’s your baby.”

Pulling on the tux and making sure everything was tucked and buttoned neatly had been easy up to this point. The YouTube tutorial was doing little to help his fat fingers loop and pull the tie into anything that could actually pass as a tie, and he slipped it from around his neck angrily, the fitted fabric of the black tux around his shoulders already bothering him.

“Fuckin’... piece of shit,” he hissed under his breath. “Fuck this,”

He stalked towards their room, pushing Pucca down when she jumped at his thigh. “If you get fur on this your mom will kill me.” She still wagged her butt, whining after him as he walked down the hall. That’s when it hit him; fucking lint rollers! He stomped the rest of the way to the room, pissed at his own inability to remember his entire purchase list when going to the store.

“Can you help me with… this,” he trailed off, rendered speechless.

The carnelian red material of the sheer gown flowed down her body softly like the calm running of water, changing shape only over her stomach that bulged beneath it. It pooled elegantly around her feet, and the thin straps of the shoulder and low cut back showed off the art adorning her body, especially the dark, menacing crow across her shoulder blades. She looked at him curiously as he detailed her long hair pulled into a loose twist, some locks falling around her face and neck, just a glimpse of the silver earrings dangling and the small stars beside her brow ridge.

“How do I look?” she asked, tentatively, her thigh and knee poking from the high cut of the dress.

His mouth opened to utter everything; gorgeous, beautiful, perfect, astounding- but he was left with nothing but his hand on his chest, unable to take his eyes from his ecstatically beautiful lover.

“Lat're ij goddeukuk,” he uttered, finally, but not knowing what he’d said, she looked back to the mirror, her hands running down the curve of her belly and cupping underneath.

“Think people can tell?” she asked.

He grinned, proudly. “People can tell,”

That’s my baby.

She nodded, turning to grab his tie and loop it around his collar. “I’m nervous,” she said softly, her thin fingers manipulating the material expertly.

“You both look beautiful,” he said, and she grinned, her eyes still on the tie. “So good that I can’t imagine how you’d look in a wedding dress,”

“I’m not-”

“Getting married pregnant, I know,” he griped, a little sourly.

Her hands moved to hold his face, stood on her toes and craning her neck for a kiss until he leaned the rest of the way down. He exhaled, holding her sides as her thumbs smoothed his chiseled cheekbones, her kisses soothing away what little disappointment sat on his heart.

“You will one day?” he asked huskily, enveloping her mouth for a deeper caress as his fingers curled into the sheer material of the dress.

“Calista Jakoby is too good of a name to pass up. And that police pension.” she grinned, yelping when he smacked her ass.

With the tie braided artfully and her heels slipped on as she steadied herself against him, she grabbed her clutch and phone as he grabbed the keys, planting a few kisses on Pucca’s head before closing the door behind them.

She half jogged to the truck when the cold of the night pricked her exposed skin, and this time he helped her into her seat, making sure her dress didn’t catch in the door. The heater was cranked once inside, noting the goosebumps already rising on her arms and again they rode with his hand over her stomach.

“Rosie is salty she wasn’t invited,” Callie grinned, flashing the long rants worth of messages from her sister.

“Paramedics aren’t as cool,”

“Oh you’re gonna get on her about that again?”

“If she keeps mocking about seeing me at that doughnut shop, which I was at for you,”

“To be fair that was too good of a joke to pass up on.” Callie simpered, laughing when he squeezed her knee.

Valet took his truck when they arrived, surprisingly complimentary of the LAPD, and Callie kept her clutch against her stomach when Nick offered his elbow, walking up the dazzling stairs carpeted in rich red and stunning gold linings. He felt a little out of place being at such an upper class location but Callie fit right in, like she should’ve always attended sparkling events such as this.

They passed a few familiar officers chatting in the marble lobby, and she almost forgot to keep her chin lifted confidently as they took double takes at her obvious condition.

“That makes me feel like a walking attraction,” she intoned.

“Don’t be so full of yourself, they were obviously looking at me.” he corrected, evoking a giggle.

They boarded the elevator, both looking around at the exquisite space that looked like it belonged in New York amongst the ultra rich, not LA.

She turned, finding one of the walls to be a mirror, and took her phone from her clutch.

“C’mere,” she called, and he stood behind her, posing against her back as she beamed in the photo. There were silly ones; of him holding her up as she craned back, pretending to bite her neck, and there were raunchier ones of her ass pressed into his hips he couldn’t help but laugh at.

“That ones for Instagram.” she chimed, depositing her phone back in her clutch as they made it to the upper floor.

The music boomed through the wide hall they walked through to enter the banquet room, the tables lining the walls littered with fellow officers and their wives or husbands, some with kids dressed elegantly. All had a look to dish to Callie, who was in the small handful of other woman wearing something besides the normal neutral colored gowns, but then they saw the stomach, and their conversations shifted. Nick hadn’t told anyone at work beside Sergey and Ward, so this was the night the news was breaking: the Orc finally knocked her up.

They stood at the entrance, overlooking all the tables and people, the dance floor a little sparse besides Nick’s captain dancing poorly with his band of merry men. She scoffed.

“I’m already over this.” Nick stated, fixing the cuff around his wrist.

“Jakoby!”

They turned to find Sergey walking up to them, a wide smile and also in a fitted tux with his girlfriend close behind.

“Hey kid,” Nick nodded in his direction, greeting Dura quickly.

“Miss Callie, my favorite human,” Sergey said in a silly manner, a little smitten as he hugged her tightly.

“Hi sweetie- hi Dura!” Callie said excitedly, hugging the lean female Orc behind him that was cloaked in a strapless, deep green gown with diamond embroidery beneath the bust and equally dazzling hoops hanging off her pointed ears.

“Oh my god you’re finally showing!” Dura whined lovingly, holding Callie’s sides after she hugged her. “Any kicks yet? This lug won’t tell me anything,” she jabbed her thumb in Sergey’s direction, but he only rolled his ochre eyes.

He wouldn’t let me say a word to anyone,” Sergey directed the blame to Nick.

“Yeah cause that was so difficult for you,” Nick grumbled.

“Y’all Fogteeth need to stop congregating in public like this,” Ward piped in, walking up from behind Nick before giving him the handshake. Their interaction wasn’t as constant since Nick had finished his first year, but they made it a point to still meet up for lunches or when Ward needed help in his yard. “How ya doin’ mamas?” he moved to hug Callie, placing a kiss on her cheek.

“Ahh, depends on the day,” she grinned, leaning sideways. “Hi Sherri,” she flashed a dazzling smile, effectively warding off Daryl’s salty wife who didn’t look half bad in her royal blue dress. Hair was a little tacky along with those ridiculous nails, though.

“My goodness, look at this,” Daryl held her sides, patting a couple times. “How long ‘til he gets to meet his uncle?”

“Got about 5 more months,” Nick said, loosening his tie. Callie pulled his hands down, mumbling to stop messing with his suit.

“You know I still don’t understand how you were able to keep quiet about this but I can’t get him to shut up about fuckin’ veggies- just in my ear, all day when we have routes together,” Ward teased, the girls laughing as Nick chuffed loudly.

“You never shut up about your dead ass lawn…” Nick mumbled.

“Cause that shit you suggested still ain’t doing shit-”

“I’ve told you a hundred times-”

“I want a snack,” Callie butted in before they started bickering endlessly.

“Me too- come, tell me all about the little faushnu.” Dura said affectionately, the girls arms linking as they walked back to the tables loaded with sweets.

“Congrats, brother,” Ward clapped Nick on the back, making the Orc somewhat bashful.

“Yeah yeah, thanks.”

“Hey, did you get that briefing from Heig this morning?” He questioned, bumping Nick’s arm.

“For everyone?” Sergey butted in, listening curiously.

“Yeah- is there really another wand floating around?” Nick asked lowly, and Sergey’s eyes widened.

“A wand!?” Sergey exclaimed, and Nick hit his chest with the back of his hand. The young Orcs face tightened, his filed tusks showing momentarily from behind his angry pout.

“Do we really have to get involved in that shit again?”

“I don’t see why we would. What happened was one thing and this is another. I don’t want none of that shit in my business.” Ward explained, head shaking as he searched for Sherri.

“What shit?” Sergey tried again, but the other officers dropped it, leaving the rookie fuming.

A few hours in, and most of the men had removed their jackets and rolled up their sleeves, leaving Nick to follow suit promptly. Any longer and he would’ve lost his mind under the restricting fabric. Heig was alongside a few other deputies, all lined up across the stage as the mayor spoke highly of the LAPD, his shadowed eyes only aiding to a sense of lies alongside his smile.

Most watched, but a lot mingled amongst themselves still, uncaring of the announcements that could’ve been done at the station instead of this whole thing.

“Theadora,” Callie tried, scooping ice cream into her tiny spoon. Nick scrunched his nose.

“Elizabeth?” but now Callie shook her head.

“Why do we only ever suggest girl names?”

“I feel like I’d only make girls,” Nick shrugged, sipping his rum and coke. “Most of the firstborn in my family are girls,”

“Mm, maybe. What about Guillermo?”

“Wasn’t that Rosie’s…?”

She shook her head. “Benecio,”

“Ahh. Anyways- something I can pronounce please,”

That unnecessary part of the banquet ended in low applause, but Heig looked like he’d been handed the key to the city, standing under the hot lights and sweating like a hooker in church.

“He didn’t even get a medal or anything,” Nick commented dryly, and Callie looked at him with a knowing smile.

“Like you got? For being the biggest and baddest?” she asked, and he nodded, confidently.

“Damn right. That’s why that shits framed.” he wiggled his brows, smirking when she chuckled with the spoon between her teeth.

The men dispersed from the stage, the dance floor filling again with tipsy couples only embarrassing themselves as they flaunted their supposed dance skills.

Nick’s arm hung off the back of her chair, his fingers tracing designs on her arm when she leaned against him, whispering little nothings and the occasional joke as the minutes ticked by in their own little world. Ward ambled around, butting in and then wandering off again and again until Sherri kept him close, and the same went for Sergey. He was already tipsy by the time he flopped back into a chair beside Nick, asking where Dura was even though she’d been following him around for the past hour.

The seats started to fill up when the music slowed, sending most of the more lively attendees away to the drinks.

“Are you gonna ask me to dance?” Callie asked softly, and he looked down at her, his brow cocking.

“You’re gonna make me go out there?” he asked, and she smiled, nodding. He considered arguing, but he also knew how much she’d missed dancing since instructed by doctors to take it easy. With a defeated sigh, he rose, holding out his hand to help her stand and smooth down her dress. Nick lead her through the tables, thankful that a slower song had started lulling through the speakers; he didn’t have any skills to get down like she was capable of. But after years of watching Callie during recitals and performances, and gazing at her as she spun slow circles in their kitchen only to be dragged over, he knew enough.

With their hands held up, he spun her slowly, bringing forth a dazzling smile as he drew her in. The way he so tenderly ran his hands down her arms to her lower back made her sigh, her own inching up his chest as they fell into a steady, smooth swaying. His forehead bumped hers, catching her molten eyes that sparkled under the lights around them.

“You’ve been practicing?” She asked softly, her thumbs stroking his neck when her hands slid higher over his shoulders.

“Shuffling in a circle isn’t that hard,”

“Say that to my broken toes,” she teased, and he growled at her, only stirring another smile. “I’m joking. You’ve only broken one of my toes,”

“Keep it up and I’ll pass you to someone else,” he smirked, arm moving around her shoulder when she slipped hers around his waist. Callie beamed when he started to purr with their cheeks touching, the soft strokes against her shoulder blade from his wide, rough palm sending shivers down her sides.

“You’d never,”

“Don’t tempt me,”

Their shape was a little funny- her stomach prevented her from pressing flat against him like normal, but it still made him grin, just barely, to himself.

It was like they were dancing with their baby, softly lulling it like Callie talked about doing when she could hold it in her arms.

“If I can hold it in my arms,” she pouted, wiping the gel from her stomach after an ultrasound.

Nick frowned. “Why would you say that?”

“Cause this is the fourth time I’ve been pregnant, and I haven’t been able to name or hold any of them.” she told him, silencing any further rebuttle. No matter how grim that was, her words were valid.

His arms drew tighter, giving her a light squeeze. Every pregnancy, she was more disconnected than the last, afraid to become attached. He was already head over heels excited, but he had been the other times, too. It saddened him to see her pass by onesies and various other baby items when they’d go to stores, telling him, ‘we can wait a little longer’.

Let’s see if this one makes it, is what she really meant.

“Do you know how many times I had to stop myself from grabbing a glass of champagne tonight?” she said into his chest, shaking him from darker thoughts.

“If my kid comes out with an ear on their forehead I’m gonna punch you in the throat,” he grumbled, and grunted when she poked his sides.

“I want a day to get drunk after I deliver,” she looked up at him. “I miss our nights at Loco’s,”

“We still have fun without getting drunk,” he mouthed against her jaw, keeping his arms secured around her when she giggled and wiggled.

“We’ll have mommy and daddy days,” she decided, tucking her head back under his chin. He blinked a few times.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard something like that out loud,” he confessed softly, a little flushed. “Never thought of myself as a daddy over just being a parent,”

“You’re my big Orc daddy,”

He scoffed stubbornly, squeezing her. “Shut up,”

The slow song only lasted that one turn. People started calling for upbeat music again and Callie pulled Nick away from the dance floor, mentioning that she didn’t want to risk getting kicked in the gut when one of the white boys inevitably tried to breakdance.

So they all huddled to a table; Ward with Sherri- although she could care less at a table full of Orcs- and Sergey with Dura, all of them teasing and talking and booming with laughter when the drinks came and went quickly, the men throwing them back and some more when Sergey pulled a fat flask from his tux. Nick became quite the chatty cat when he got to drinking, pointing this way and that, speaking of things he normally kept bottled after shitty days or telling Ward in particular how much he liked his mustache.

When the men started slurring and Sergey nearly tripped over an entire chair after saying he didn’t see the entire said chair, the woman gathered their stumbling men, sneaking out of the banquet despite Heig moving to the stage again to make more announcements, drunkenly that was.

At valet, Callie directed Nick to the passenger side, pushing his big body up until she could close the door quickly. Off with her heels and she could drive, again blasting the heater when the harsh chill of the night stung her skin.

“Nick c’mon,” Callie laughed, a hand against his chest to steady his towering form that one arm around his back couldn’t do alone.

“You could’a left me in the truck,” he mumbled, walking, but when he swayed here and there, it was like trying to catch a falling tree.

A string of giggles tumbled from her lips as he mouthed the back of her neck, kissing across her shoulder with his hands against the door and his body shielding hers as she struggled to find the house key, her shoulder drawing into her cheeks every time he tried to get one of her ears.

They both lurched forwards when she managed the door finally, but Nick still had good enough reactions even drunk and caught himself, then her before they both went crashing to the floor. A moment of shock, and then he was laughing, air forcing out between his pursed lips.

“Go, go to bed,” she instructed, letting him wobble his way towards the back of the house, but stopping to give Pucca hugs and kisses. “Go lay down before you fall,” she instructed as she tossed her heels aside. Ugh, much better. She even wiggled her toes into the carpet a bit.

“You go lay down before you-” he mimicked, standing suddenly, walking with determination into the kitchen, throwing open the pantry door with more force than meant. “Found them,” he mumbled with heavy eyes, cradling his bag of Takis as he bumped into the kitchen entrance before heading back on his original path.

She had lock up duty that night- closing windows, double checking doors, arming the alarm system that Nick had had installed a couple years back.

Upon entering the room, she found him with the open bag still in his inner arm, struggling to kick off his shoes and not fall flat on his face with Pucca walking circles around him.

“Get,” she waved Pucca away, then pushed against his chest to get him onto the bed, losing a few Takis along the way. “Stay there,”

“Are you trying to get me in bed?” he asked coyly, lifting his feet as she pulled his shoes off.

“I already have you there- Nick!” she smiled, exclaiming as he kept stealing kisses along her collarbone when she tried to unbutton his shirt.

“You’re so pretty,”

“Hush and stay still,” she ordered, somehow getting his dress shirt off before smacking his thigh to make him turn a little.

“You’re my girlfriend,” he stated matter of factly while pointing to himself with eyes clouded by booze, chewing loudly on the chips.

“That so?” she went along, pulling his slacks down his legs and stepping back as he violently kicked them off across the room.

“Yeah, cause I,” he pointed to his own chest again, “Put that in you,” his finger landed back at her belly.

“Proud of yourself, ain’t ya?” she smiled, pulling her earrings off.

He nodded, a smug smile plastered across his face that only made her eyes roll in amusement. But his amusement puddles when he watched her start to carefully hang his suit up, pressing down small creases.

“Just throw it in the laundry,” he mumbled, glaring hatefully at the handsome suit.

Callie turned, the temper of her eyes dangerous. “Hell no. I picked and paid for this suit- it’s gonna be treated like a member of this household,”

Nick scoffed. “S’not that nice,”

She looked at him blandly. “Wanna pay me back the $300 for it then?”

“Pay you back with some lovin’, c’mere,” he made grabby hands at her, but his reach was smacked away, an exaggerated pout following.

The dress was pulled up from her feet as she padded to the bathroom, eager to take off the make-up she’d painstakingly put on. At least swirling the makeup remover around was enjoyable- she’d often drag the mascara around her eyes to resemble the joker, cackling quietly to herself before rinsing it off. A quick wash, some moisturizer and her eye cream she couldn’t live without later, and she was finally done, but stopped halfway down the hallway to turn back.

Should pee now before I get up and run into something.

Doing that with the dress was a damn chore. Coming back out again, she glanced at the sticky note on the spare room they still needed to clean out and prepare. The corners of her lips kicked up in a smirk.

N + C = baby, the sticky note said. Nick had first stuck the note to a onesie he’d bought the day she’d made it past her first trimester, and despite the teasing nature of the words across the onesie, she couldn’t part with the attached note. It had been on the door since, and realistically, she didn’t think she’d ever be ready to take it down; there had been times she considered framing it. Even after recalling that beaming, cocky smile he gave when presenting the ‘Of course I’m cute, have you seen my dad?’ onesie.

Nick chewed noisily, still sprawled across the bed and offering a hand to pull the zipper of the dress down the soft curve of her spine. Callie swatted at his hand when he pinched her butt, his eyes a little hungrier for something besides Takis when a waft of her scent hit him after the dress fell into a red puddle around her feet and left her only in red lace panties that barely contained the ass she’d gained.

If he thought fucking his scent into her was something that made his ego skyrocket, sticking a baby in her and carrying that child heightened it everyday, boosting his pride to an otherworldly level. On top of the bite that adorned her breast, this would solidify them as mates for life, more than marriage ever would. That being said, it still fascinated Nick that of everyone she could’ve chosen, she loved him, an Orc, and chose to breed with him regardless that they’d have a halfling. She wanted his child.

Nick was lost in admiration before he could realize that she’d been watching him as she rubbed cocoa butter into her stomach, her brows curved in scrutiny. He looked like he was on the verge of crying… but he could just be tremendously sleepy after downing his weight in alcohol.

Her hair fell loose around her shoulders after pulling a loose tank top on, turning with hands upon her hips. “You look sad,”

“I’m in awe,” he elaborated artfully, his hand spinning and a chip between his lips.

“Awe?” her brows perked up, watching him struggle to sit up and reach for her.

“I need t’talk to ‘em,” he murmured, pulling her by the hips.

“About?” She grinned, leaning back into her hands when he pushed her shirt up.

“It’s private,” he mumbled, and she snorted.

“Listen,” he said close to her distended stomach. “You are the greatest- and I mean greatest when I say it in the presence of a literal goddess,” he paused to gaze up sleepily, but she looked away, pink dusting her cheeks. “You, tiny me, are the best thing I’ve ever done,” he proclaimed softer, his wide hand over her protectively. “You made me realize how badly I wanted to be a father,”

Sentiment stirred her heart, listening to Nick declare such love to their unborn child with his forehead rested against her stomach.

“I love you,” he murmured, a kiss lingering on her stomach before he pulled her shirt back down. “I love you,”

Soft strokes from her hands across his head turned his face up to her, and she grinned, holding his cheeks when he stood to kiss her; he tasted like vodka and fire.

“I told you this one would stick,” he said against her mouth.

“Don’t get a big head now,”

“I’m just sayin’, third time's the charm,” he simpered, and she followed him into bed.

Just as Callie had finished propping numerous pillows around herself and grabbing the Firestick, Pucca came bounding up the bed, walking all over Nick in attempts to lay between them.

“Braav-” Nick cursed, pushing her away, but she was still smiley and wiggly, rolling to lather Callie’s face in kisses. “We have to train her to stop that,”

“She just feels left out,” Callie baby talked, smooshing and swirling Pucca’s wide head between her hands as the panting dog moved closer. “My big baby,”

“Not gonna be th’baby anymore,”

“But she’s always gonna be my first! Aren’t you? Aren’t you preciosa? Mi hermosa bebe?” Callie gushed, Pucca’s head twisting back and forth and her floppy ears perked forward.

Nick finally settled, Takis in one hand and phone in the other when he stopped to watch her smother the dog, kisses upon kisses to her furry head, wondering how enamoured she would be with their baby in her arms.

“We can start buying more stuff now y’know,” he carefully suggested.

Callie shrugged, resting her jaw in hand when she perched on her side. The knuckles of his hand rubbed her stomach, peeping from beneath her shirt. “I suppose,”

“You know you’re allowed to enjoy your pregnancy,”

“It’s not that,” half her face scrunched. “I do- I really do. I even try to remind myself when I’m puking that I’d rather be dealing with that than… empty. But I feel like if I become 100% invested it’s all gonna be taken away again,” she explained with a reserved tone.

“Not this time. You’re so far along now,”

“I’m still worried. I always worry.” she said with her eyes keeping his, a hidden fear showing through in her jittering foot.

He didn’t know what to say. There would be no vanquishing the worry until she had it cradled in her arms and against her chest. Nick could offer little words of reassurance. He didn’t know what it was like being afraid of your own body that could betray you after giving life.

“I like Leonardo,” he stated instead, and although her mouth opened to protest, a sense of appeasement filled her, flipping the name again and again in her mind.

“That’s a strong contender,”

“Or Jonaq,”

“Started strong and ended lame.” Her lips flattened into a straight line, and he smacked her hip.

Pucca’s head popped up from behind Callie, a soft growl rumbling, but her tail was wagging fiercely, her pretty eyes trained on Nick.

“Oh what’re gonna do? Huh? You big useless thing?” Nick challenged, sitting up to press his nose to Pucca’s as she continued to growl.

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

“Okay, let’s take a look here,” the ultrasound technician chimed, dragging the probe across her jellied stomach that was just starting to swell outwards. Nick had lost his mind the first time they noticed it. He spent at least 10 minutes taking pictures, even ones where he knelt beside her before the mirror with his cheek against it, smiling proudly.

The screen displayed the fuzzy black and white mess of shapes and blurs, Callie’s head not having yet rested against the examination table as Nick leaned in closer from her other side.

“Got the butt first this time,” the technician chuckled.

When the small definition of a foot and leg came in suddenly, he tensed, the picture moving up past ribs to a clear profile, softening Callie’s tense expression.

The little head bobbed back, along with small arms and legs that fidgeted in the misshapen oval that would be it’s home for the next 28 weeks.

“It’s moving,” Callie grinned, Nick’s head tilting to watch it wiggle around. “I can’t feel anything,”

“Probably won’t till after about 15 weeks,” she told her kindly, her fingers flying over the keyboard of the machine as she measured and took screenshots.

You’re inside me, Callie thought affectionately, her adoration for the black and white fuzz shaping her baby growing every passing second she saw the tiny arms curl close to its face, or a little leg kick outwards.

“Do you wanna know the sex?”

Nick and Callie looked at one another, but he shook his head. “We’re okay with waiting. So far,”

“Do we get pictures?” Callie asked eagerly, wiping down her stomach once the exam had ended.

“Better yet- here’s an entire album.” The technician smiled, handing over a long stream of printed photos displaying profiles, butts, and overall shapes.

“I can’t tell who’s nose it has,” Callie squinted, holding the scan at arms length after pushing her glasses up.

“It's still too squishy,” Nick chuckled.

“Yeah. Should we get one of those 4D ones done?” she asked, and he pulled in his shoulders while parking in his parents' driveway.

“I wanna wait ‘til it’s born to see it. I don’t want something in my head of what I was told it’d look like,” he explained, grabbing the scans so he could look them over again. “Look at those little arms,” he groaned lovingly.

“I guess,” she said, looking them over again when handed back. “I think it has my nose,”

“Maybe it’ll have my elbows.”

She snorted, folding them diligently to place gently back in her purse as they exited the truck.

Dinara was there to answer with warmer hugs for Callie now than Nick, her hands falling to her small stomach as she berated her with questions about her health; how she was feeling, was she tired, had she eaten yet.

Oleg always had open arms ready, almost picking small Callie up off her feet in a hug and holding her face affectionately as he smiled down at her with warm, golden eyes. “You glow like my Dinara did when she was pregnant with Nick.” he’d say.

Nick was bossed around by his mom as she ordered Callie to sit down and put her feet up, directing her son to pour his lover tea. He handed it off sourly, winking at Callie.

His mother and Callie could sit and talk for hours, most of which was gossip from two completely different lifestyles, added in the normal day to day life and shit at work. Nick and Oleg watched TV, bickering over their rival teams before any steady chit chat could find it’s way in until the food finished cooking and they all moved to the table.

She would deny it at first, but when Dinara slopped seconds and thirds onto Callie’s plate, she never pushed it away.

“You give my grandbaby all the food they can eat.” she’d order earnestly, the spiced rice and veggies piled high on Callie’s plate and too good to resist.

“Speaking of,” Nick said around a full cheek. “She hit 12 weeks a couple days ago,”

Dinara gasped, her fork falling into her roasted potatoes. “You did!?”

Nick retrieved the scans from her purse, but they were snatched from his hands by Oleg before he even sat at the table again, which were in turn snatched by Dinara who barely gave him any lean to look at them as she did, blubbering words of amazement.

“Oh I’m so relieved- I’ve bought so many things I’ve wanted to give to you but didn’t want to anger you!” Dinara sobbed, the scans against her chest even with Oleg trying to pry them from her hands. “Oh, beautiful baby,”

“We can start crib shopping now,” Nick said, holding Callie’s thigh, but she only shrugged indifferently, still smiling as she watched Dinara.

“Onesies first?”

The hesitation was still there, even though they’d made it over that mark. But he nodded, and smiled, leaning over to kiss her head before returning to answer the questions his parents laid on them.

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

Oh oh oh here we go 🖤 don't she look the cutest with that bump! and Nick in a suit Y U U U U M

translations: -"apurate": hurry up -"lat're ij goddeukuk": you're a goddess -"faushnu": baby -"braav": brat

[mysteli]

stress (fabien x mc)

A/N: im actually happy with this fic. it’s probably an AU type of thing because it’s set at the masquerade and it’s the idea that my MC needed fresh air and the audio thing wasn’t in tact during the fic so just pretend that’s not there while you read this! May not make much sense but I still like it! Hope you do too! 

This is also for @endlessly-searching-for-you February challenge using the prompt ““You’re something else”

Warning: T (swearing and innuendo I guess)

Words: 3089

PERMA TAG LIST: @brightpinkpeppercorn@cocomaxley@hopefulmoonobject@alesana45 @jellybean-marshmellow@mymandrake@regrettingnathan@dobie2112@princessstellaris@mechaspirit@skyila @mind-reader1  @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @sakaily@justboredtrash@regina-and-happiness @annekebbphotography. @endlessly-searching-for-you @reginasayeed@abbiebishops @zigortega4life @eileendannie@diamondoasis@speedyoperarascalparty@emomoustache@lostlightningbug@endlesstaylormckenzie @alekai-sayeed@akrenich @vickypoo91@nitta-jaeguet@femmeshep @hayden-park

This fic: @walkernazario @teenytinynapper@sceptilemasterr @skipperthetechgirl @griffinsbigdickenergy@hellotimemachineofdetectives@onlymadethisdamnblogforchoices@michellemurphy92 @choices-addict @flyawayboo @haadestown @questionablespecies @siegrrun

P.S: I’ve tagged everyone who i tagged in my last Fabien fic and those who asked to be asked this time! If you wanna be removed, let me know!

Let me know if you wanna be tagged! 💗and let me know if the tags work because Tumblr is acting up.

Summary: Camila goes out for fresh air while at the Masquerade and she finds herself going to a very specific place outside.

Masterlist

THE HEIST: MONACO FAN FICTION STRESS

Pressure is staring to pile up like never before and Camila is finding it harder to keep her a calm and collected stature. Her mask of mundane nature is crumbling before her very eyes and she finds herself eager to leave this party altogether. There’s so much at stake and if anything goes wrong, it will ruin everything and Camila isn’t prepared to risk anything or let herself be recognised. It isn’t completely likely she will be but almost everyone in her surroundings is looking for her so what if something goes wrong? That’s all she can afford to fear.

She can’t be losing her mind now. The crew is finally able to act out the plan and start preparing for Ansel’s damnation. He’s been at their beck and call ever since he betrayed them and Camila certainly isn’t prepared to let the idea of revenge cross her mind. Ansel deserves it after everything he’s fine and Camila will surely deliver the suffering to him without hesitance.

But right now, she needs a moment of isolation. A chance to regain her composure as all these sudden worries and doubt are haunting her mind like you wouldn’t believe. She almost never feels this way about one of her rebellions. This is basically her job. This is what she does and she shouldn’t be suddenly questioning it. It’s her duty. Maybe her pride is affecting her a bit too much. Or maybe it’s something else. Hell, it may even be... someone else. 

With that, Camila excuses herself from the masquerade, exhaling softly as she paces outside, avoiding any contact with anyone in her surroundings. She just can’t deal with any questions or anything right now. Things would be even more difficult if she happened to find Rye or Eris. Luckily, she encounters no one and makes it outside pretty safely and smoothly. 

Camila dusts off her pale blue gown and her hands fiddle nervously with one of the gems engraved on the upper part. She quickly makes her way further outside, seeing if she can find a secure place to take a breather. She needs a moment to remove her mask as well. 

Her eyes shift from looking at her hands to finally glancing up and seeing where she’s headed. Camila is forced to stop short in her tracks when she sees a familiar van parked out front, a little to close to the building, might she add. Camila furrows her brows at the sight of the van the crew arrived in and she’s even more surprised to find Fabien seated in the driver’s seat and she notices how close he is to falling sleep. She was aware that he was still out here but she at least thought that he would have found a more isolated place to park because this is just too obvious. Beginner’s luck seems to be what he’s hoping for. 

Fabien is shielded by the dim light from the interior of the van, the light of the night being the only source to brighten up the place. He’s leaning back in the leather seat and he’s staring straight out at the deserted view before him. Who knows how long he’s been sat like that doing absolutely nothing? 

Too curious to walk away now, Camila can’t resist the urge to approach him, maybe to even scold him for parking so close to the building. Fabien doesn’t seem to notice her at all, not even when she’s right in front of the side window. His gaze remains forward.

Rolling her eyes, her lips curl up into a smirk and her playful instincts kick in. “Yo, Fabien. You there?” Camila enquires, slamming her fist against the window and the impact of sound causes Fabien to become startled and flinch in his seat. His wide-eyed gaze snaps towards the direction of Camila and his dark eyes roll when he spots her, realising she’s the source of the noise. However, he can’t fully hide his smirk as he holds the button to slide the window down. 

Once Camila finally has a full view of him, she takes the time to study his exterior. His dark brown hair is more messy than usual and it almost looks like he has been asleep and maybe he’d recently woken up. Turns out he probably regrets sitting out here on his own than actually going into the party. 

Fabien shakes his head at her idly, eyeing her golden mask. “Woah. Who the fuck are you?” He jokes in an obvious sarcastic tone, clearly pretending he doesn’t know Camila because no one else seems to in that party. His smirk doesn’t falter, only widens, and Camila rolls her eyes and adjusts her mask, wanting so desperately to remove it. 

“Ha. Ha.” She responds, a forced look of irritation fixed on her face and in response, Fabien lets out a loose chuckle. 

“Did you really need to scare the shit out of me like that?” Fabien questions abruptly and Camila just giggles as a reaction.

“Of course. Besides, your reaction was priceless.” 

Fabien simply shakes his head and rests his hand on the wheel, scanning Camila’s facial features for a short moment. He remembers his rather admirable reaction to her choice in such an extravagant gown. Sure, it’s meant to represent nothing more than a disguise but damn does she know how to make it sexy. The pale blue fabric compliments her tan complexion ever so well and the upper part of the dress clings to her arms and chest while the skirt part flares out more freely. The only thing Fabien isn’t a fan of is the mask because of how it hides the true beauty her features carry. After a moment of studying her stunning appearance, Fabien averts his eyes finally and clears his throat.

“So... the party getting too boring for you?” Fabien asks, noticing how her expression slowly changes into something more unreadable.

“More like stressful. I just needed a place to breathe.” Camila responds, her gaze drifting away from Fabien as her mind fills with another thought.

“Pretty sure they have oxygen in there, Cami.” Fabien jokes and Camila narrows her chestnut eyes at him playfully for that, her nerves starting to climb up her body once more but this time maybe for a different reason.

“I just wanted to get outta there. Find someplace more quiet. It’s so damn loud in there.” Camila laughs, running a hand through his dark brown locks and sighing heavily.

A moment of silence intoxicates the air between them and Fabien takes this as opportunity to consider an idea that’s been haunting him for the past few minutes. Why doesn’t he just let her hang out in the car for a couples minutes? What could possibly happen? She just wants air. Nothing more. Let her have air. People need air. 

There’s Fabien’s excuse. Now he just needs her answer. “If you want to, the van’s got oxygen to spare.” Fabien hesitates for a moment when he notices the skepticism playing across Camila’s expression. “Wanna hang out for a bit? Plus I could use the company.” 

Camila raises an eyebrow at him and her eyes narrow slightly. “Ran out of interest in brooding?” 

“Guess you could say that.” 

With that, Camila agrees, hooking her hand on the door handle before sweeping it open. “Alright then.” She obliges, sitting in the seat next to Fabien and closing the door behind her, something suddenly hitting her mind once more and she rolls her eyes in annoyance.

Noticing, Fabien furrows his brows at her. “What?” 

“Why did you park so close to the building? The guards are right around the corner.” Camila reminds him and Fabien just scoffs carelessly at her words.

“You think they care? Nah. There’s just here until their pay check gets cleared.” Fabien counters, suddenly retrieving a bottle of beer beside him. He takes a long swig and Camila just watches him with irritation in her eyes. He stops short with what he’s doing and it’s almost like she’s silently judging him. “What did I do now?”

A smirk crosses Camila’s lips and she huffs mockingly. “Now I see what you’ve been doing to pass the time.” She says, gesturing to the stocked pack of beer lying beside Fabien and he just shrugs his shoulders in reaction.

“So?”

“Your job is to drive. Not drink and drive. Besides, that’s illegal.” Camila warns firmly, folding her arms in a solemn manor as she sinks back into the leather seat, eyeing Fabien with intrigue.

“And starting a heist isn’t?” Fabien retorts, a condescending smirk on his face as he dares to take another chug out of the bottle. Catching on to his game, Camila swipes the bottle out of his hand and places it beside her.

“You still shouldn’t be doing that.” Camila reminds him and Fabien just rolls his eyes in annoyance. 

“Cami, do we really need to worry about what’s legal and what’s illegal? We’re already in deep shit as it is.” 

“Still. If we crash because of you, we’ll be in even deeper shit. Jesus Christ, I thought you were a professional.”

Fabien scoffs, stroking his jaw thoughtfully. “I am a professional! Sometimes I just get... stressed.” The familiar word causes Camila’s shoulders to slump back and Fabien’s eyes flicker back to the bottle. “Besides, I only had half a bottle.”

“You’re not getting it back before you even try.” Camila warns him and Fabien lets out an irritated groan, boredom hitting him and messing up his mind.

“Come on, Cami. Give it back.” He urges, stretching over to retrieve it but Camila swipes it first and keeps a tight grip on the targeted item. 

“Nope.”

“Please?”

“Still nope.”

Even manners won’t get Fabien that bottle back. With that, he gives up, slouching down in the leather of his seat and running a hand through his dark brown hair. Sympathy suddenly reaches Camila and she sets the bottle down and moves a little closer to him. Too close for his resistance to handle. Before he knows it, his walls will come crumbling down because they always seem to when she’s around. Everyone in the crew are unique in their own way but Fabien hasn’t connected with any of them the way he’s connected with Camila Hale. 

Too bad she’s technically his boss but things would be very different and maybe with a lot more effort. 

Fabien sucks in a sharp breath when he glances back up and realises that Camila has moved a lot closer, rightfully closer for comfort but still. 

Unfortunately, Fabien can’t quite read Camila’s expression due to the golden mask still covering her face, the dark shade of her eyes overshadowed by such a rich brightness. Daringly and almost without thinking, Fabien reaches for the golden mask and grazes his hand a long the material. She flinches at the action and her expression moves from sympathy to bewilderment.

“What are you doing?” Camila questions, her eyebrows furrowing confusedly.

Fabien is hesitant to answer. In fact, he’s not really in control of anything right now. Things are just kind of happening. His control is dropping rapidly. “...I... don’t know. But you did say you wanted to take it off.” Fabien mutters under his breath and his hands grip either side of the mask and guide it off her face, revealing her miraculous features underneath. “Besides, look what you’ve been hiding behind it.”

Camila’s eyebrows raise a little more at Fabien’s words. Suddenly, he’s saying all these things and doing all these things and not holding back like he usually does. Maybe it’s the half a bottle of alcohol talking or maybe it’s just... him.

“Are you ok?” She dares to ask him, edging a little closer to him so their knees are touching and Fabien hisses a little at the impact. 

Fabien averts his gaze again from her face, a momentarily lapse of admiring taking place and he can’t afford for that to happen again. “Yeah... I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. You shouldn’t have to.” He tells her, a solemn look in his dark eyes.

Camila’s noticed something about Fabien over the time that she’s known him. There are moments when he’s cocky and free with his words and personality, not giving a shit what people think about him. And then, there’s moments like this. Quieter moments. More vulnerable moments where he’s so closed off and more reluctant to share his thoughts. Seems like he likes to keep up a tough exterior and Camila can’t fully recognise this new side of him. 

“That’s kinda my job, Fabien. To worry about you.” Camila responds, tilting her head to the side and searching Fabien’s dark eyes for an answer to the emotion he’s feeling currently. 

Fabien is a little taken aback by her words, shaking his head and sighing sharply. “Nah. No one ever worried about me. Not even me.” He raises his head and folds his arm idly, his gaze drifting back to where it was before Camila arrived, on the desolate view of the city. “I’m just your driver. After this whole heist thing... I’m sure you won’t wanna see me again.”

Camila giggles in disbelief at that, her mind boggling with questions about what’s making him so regretful all of a sudden. “Where would you get that idea? You think I only brought you here to be my getaway driver?” 

Slowly, the corner of Fabien’s lips curves up and a smirk gradually takes over, one that hasn’t been seen for a while. “Well, I’m sure you wanted some eye candy too because let me tell you, I can qualify for that.” He teases, playfully winking at Camila and she just lets out a breathy laugh, shaking her head once more.

“Wow... you’re something else.” Camila suddenly murmurs and Fabien barely catches her words, shooting her a meaningful look in return. Over the brief silence, Fabien seems to regain some of his confidence and that’s when his intense gaze moves down to Camila’s lips, a sudden sense of lust flooding through him. 

Following his eyes, Camila feels her spine shake as she edges even closer to Fabien, their faces mere centimetres away and Camila is so close to straddling him. 

“Can I ask you something?” She dares, biting down on her lip in order to calm her nerves. Camila doesn’t get nervous but Fabien seems to changing that with every second he stares at her.

“Shoot.”

“...Why did you say yes when I asked you to join my crew? It couldn’t just have been for a new crime, right?” Camila questions, her eyes skimming all over Fabien’s features and she’s never really been this close to him before.

Fabien is a little confused by her question. It’s so random and out of the blue and he doesn’t have much time to prepare for it. But for some reason, the answer is already so obvious and already engraved in his mind. He just can’t afford to say it out loud.

“Do I really gotta spell it out for you?” Fabien drops his voice to a low whisper, sucking in a sharp breath before finally summoning the courage to do what he’s wanted since the moment he met Camila Hale. “You.” 

With that, Fabien invites Camila in for a well overdue kiss. Their lips fit together perfectly, as they collide and they find their perfect rhythm within a few seconds. It doesn’t take too long for a passion and desire to build and they take turns deepening the kiss until the intensity is at its peak. Camila is prompted to straddle Fabien completely, her body resting perfectly as she drift her arms around his neck and lets them tangle in his dark brown hair. 

When she playfully tugs on a chunk of strands, Fabien groans into her mouth and that leaves her with an opportunity to slip her tongue into his mouth. Another groan escapes him and Fabien drags his hands up her back, her body tingling with pleasure in response. 

A sudden feeling washes through Camila and she swears she can’t remember a time she felt this way. Hell, this may be the first time she’s been affected by a man the way she is now. Her love for crime was always her first priority and it was always a pathetic idea to fall for someone if she was just gonna be skipping town the next week. But this is Fabien and he’s travelling with her. This feels different than anything she’s ever experienced and that feeling is the best emotion possible. 

With playful intentions, Camila begins to rock her hips against Fabien and he hisses in response, his hands moving back down her body as he searches for the zipper to her dress. 

However, before anything else can escalate, the sudden sound of a someone shouting causes Camila and Fabien to force themselves away from each other and glance in the direction of the abrupt echo in the distance. Turns out it’s a couple of drunk partygoers wandering outside, shouting random things into their surroundings. 

Camila just rolls her eyes and moves her gaze back towards Fabien. “Well, that’s unfortunate.” Camila mutters, knocking her forehead against Fabien’s and he just chuckles in response.

“Don’t expect them to go away anytime soon.” Fabien states and he’s clearly right. “Pretty sure they’ll all be vomiting in bushes soon.”

“Wow. Ok. You really know how to ruin a mood.” Camila jokes, climbing off Fabien’s lap and collapsing back into the chair. Their eyes meet once more and a moment of silence invades the air again. “I, uh... should probably get back to the party.”

“Yeah. I get it.” Fabien responds, a weak smile crossing his lips.

Camila slips her mask back on and before she exits the car, she glances down at the pack of beer bottles still resting beside Fabien. She smirks at him as she picks them up and takes them out the car with her.

“Hey! That’s stealing.” 

Camila’s smirk doesn’t falter and she waves him off as she starts to walk away from the car. “I thought you said we didn’t need to worry about what’s legal and illegal.” 

“Ha. Ha.” Fabien mocks in a sarcastic tone as Camila paces back into the party. He watches her with intrigue, still in disbelief at what really just happened there. 

[zukoromantic]

Late Secret Santa 2018

So I am technically a week too late with this, but better late than never... right??

MY SINCEREST APOLOGIES!!!

This is for the DuckTales secret santa thing and I got @im-sacred67 !! (They seem like a really cool person, I hope you have a merry christmas my friend uwu!) Along with a couple of other things they enhoy the Webby x Lena which is mY JAM so here we go.

So at this point Webby and ONLY Webby knows that Lena is her shadow. I went for that as I didn't want to fill this thing with my angsty headcanons, I figured that wouldn't make for a nice tone as a gift. SO HERE WE GO I GUESS??I hope you somehow enjoy this, whoops

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

"Webby, that's... still not actually how you're supposed to do it, I told you." Huey cringed at the sight of Webby landing safely in front of him after decorating the giant Christmas tree in a way that others would have considered 'dangerous'.

Dewey who had been hanging some candy canes on the lower branches of the tree took a few steps back until he was standing next to his brother. He took a look at their work. "I think it looks awesome", was all he commented.

One look at Huey made Webby be able to tell he was more than ready to contradict that statement. Before even being able to open his bill however, Donald approached from behind and wrapped his arms around the two of the trio.

"Ooh", he started, "we're not gonna fight on Christmas day. I think the tree looks-", he paused for a second. "Um, very pretty!"

Webby had to supress a grin at Huey rolling his eyes.

"Don't be so down, Hubert. There is no wrong way to get Christmas spirit into the house. Or - the mansion I guess."

In that moment the door was being opened in a loud manner.

"Hey everyone!"

"Hey Launchpad!", Dewey greeted him back.

"The tree's looking great once again!", the pilot said.

Webby watched as everyone started talking and chatting about this special gathering. She decided this was the perfect time to withdraw from the group. "I'm, uh, gonna go", she said, knowing nobody noticed anyway during the mess that their talking seemed like.

Without anyone following her she went upstairs to her room. Once she had entered she locked the door and breathed out in relief.

As she took a few steps forward she made sure to keep an eye on her shadow until the light was behind her in a way that made it appear on the wall in front of her.

"Lena?"

No response.

"Lena", Webby said now with more certainty. "I know you can hear me."

She watched as her own shadow started to change its figure and turned into the silhouette of her best friend. It wasn't an unfamiliar sight by now yet it still never failed to amaze her.

Even when she started to speak it gave Webby a weird feeling. "What is it?", she asked, slight anger in het voice.

"Lena, do you really not want to celebrate Christmas with us? It's gonna be so much fun, I promise!"

Lena sighed. "Webby, I really don't. You know I never celebrated Christmas before and I don't want to make everything awkward. Besides, do you think now is the right time to tell everyone that the shadow of your uncle's greatest enemy is still around? In... in a way at least..."

A frown formed upon Webby's face. So far Lena had not wanted to tell anyone that she was still present. She had said that she didn't want to upset anyone. At least not yet. Webby knew that was stupid and still she had to respect her best friend's decision. However that did not mean she couldn't try and talk her into reason.

"But it's so magical!", she insisted. The Duck family had seen more questionable things during their adventures, an old friend returning would not spoil the mood, she was convinced. Celebrating without the whole family present - or at least as present as could be - did not feel right. Lena was a part of the family, despite what she thought.

"I believe you... I just don't feel like it, okay?"

Even by the few features that her friend had been left with Webby could see the sadness on her face. She sighed in defeat. What was the point? She wasn't going to convince Lena any time soon. And even if she could she didn't want to force her friend into doing something that she didn't feel well about. She sat down onto the red carpet of her room and just stared at the ground. "I guess I just really want you to have fun again. You know, like back before the whole Magica-taking-over-thing."

"What?", Lena asked, judging by her voice a bit shocked. "No, no, I am having fun, believe me! Don't worry about me!"

Webby raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Because being trapped in the two-dimensional world of shadows without interacting with anyone is so much fun?"

"I am interacting. With you. Remember? Besides, do you have any idea how terrible it was to constantly have aunt Magica - I mean, Magica at your throat? I wasn't free either back then, I constantly had the pressure of listening to every single stupid word she said. Now I can hang out with you and don't have to worry about her anymore in any way. It's like a vacation to be honest."

Though even the motivating look on Lena's face couldn't quite bring Webby to smile. "But - wouldn't you rather spend your time with your family? And I'm not talking about Magica. I mean the family you actually belong to. You know, us."

"You know, you keep saying I'm a part of the family. What makes you even say that? What do I even have to do with all of you in your eyes? I mean, yes the triplets are nice and I did talk to Scrooge and your grandma a bit, but - the only person I'm actually, you know, close to, is..." Lena didn't finish her sentence. She looked away. Webby wasn't sure if shadows could cry. But if they could, she was pretty sure Lena was close to it. The sadness, almost fear, in her eyes made Webby feel a stabbing pain in her chest. Lena really thought she did not fit into this family. This huge crazy family. With nephews, housekeepers and butlers. With pilots slash drivers and granddaughters of employees. Why wouldn't someone who saved all of them from certain doom and - more importantly - a close friend who meant a lot to them not have a place in this? Why couldn't Lena see that? Why didn't she see how amazing and special she really was?

"You know what?", Webby asked. "If you don't want to celebrate Christmas with a big family, then let's just spend a little more time together now. Just the two of us. You are supposed to celebrate Christmas with the people you love the most after all." As soon as those last words left Webby's bill she felt her cheeks blushing a little. She wasn't even exactly sure why.

"But isn't everyone going to wonder where you are?", Lena asled with an undertone of slight disbelief.

"Don't worry, I'm sure we still have some time. They're quite the crowd so I don't think they'll realize I'm gone too soon. Besides we were only planning to eat dinner in, like, 45 minutes."

Lena gave it a short chuckle. A sound that made Webby's heart jump. "What's so funny?", she wanted to know, grinning already.

"Oh, nothing special. This only reminded me of our first meeting. When we ruined Ma Beagle's birthday and the triplets came looking for you because you weren't at the beach anymore. They were totally freaking out at the playground."

Webby couldn't help but laugh too. "Pfft, yeah, that was fun."

As quickly as the joy had found its way into Lena's eyes however, it left them again already. "We were always having fun. Before I met you, I didn't even know what 'having fun' actually meant." She chuckled again. "Sorry, I'm being super cheesy right now."

Webby looked into her eyes. "It's okay", she said, moving a bit closer to the wall that the silhouette of her friend could be seen on.

A few seconds they just sat there, looking into each other's eyes. Webby fully took the moment in.

"Lena?", she broke the silence.

"Yeah?"

"I miss you. I miss you a lot." Webby felt like she was close to tearing up. It was true. She missed her friend so much it hurt. She missed her everyday. Every time she saw the triplets having a good time, every time she was having a good time herself. It always reminded her of how Lena couldn't be having such a good time along side her. It just didn't feel right. If they were supposed to be a team how could she be having fun while Lena was trapped on walls and floors, only catching a glimpse of this world's beauty and colors. It wasn't fair. She wished she could just tell uncle Scrooge and they would all find a solution together. After all, as one of the most famous adventurers of all time - and probably the oldest duck in the world - he had to be able to figure something out. If only Lena would let them.

"You don't have to miss me. I'm right here, remember? Actually, as your shadow, we're now closer than ever. No reason to be down", Lena was trying to cheer her up.

"I know. But you're not really... You know, actually here." Webby placed her right hand on the wall next to the image of her friend. A compassionate look on her face, Lena slowly put her own hand in that spot. It might have been her imagination but Webby was sure she could feel the hand touching her own.

"Trust me, I am here. And I mean - I'm more than honored to be your shadow."

Webby was going to smile at the comment, but she just couldn't. Not the loving words could fill the slight feeling of emptiness inside her chest. She knew it was ridiculous. Lena was right after all. She was around. Webby didn't actually need to miss her. Yet she just couldn't help but feel sad. "I do believe you", she said. "I just wish you could be here. You know. Like for a hug."

Lena startled back at that last sentence and what had felt like her hand before was now nothing more than the cold wall. As a slight wave of disappointment overcame her, Webby removed her hand from the spot as well.

"I guess", Lena said and Webby wasn't sure but she felt like what she saw in her eyes now was guilt. Guilt? Because of what? Because of Webby? Did she feel bad for her now? That wasn't how things were supposed to be. Lena was the one who needed her life back, not her. After a split second however her expression changed into a slightly more positive look. "You know... I suppose tomorrow or whenever this whole Christmas thing is wrapped up, we could, I don't know, tell Scrooge about - this whole thing. If you want to that is."

Webby gasped in excitement. Though she was suspicious as to whether Lena was just saying this out of guilt or not. "You mean it?"

"Well, you probably do have a point, don't you? I mean maybe the old man can do something after all." She began to smile while she was speaking these words. But it wasn't a forced smile that was only trying to reassure Webby. Ahe knew that smile well. This was a true smile, she could tell. And it was this moment that made her be certain that Lena was not saying this simply out of guilt. She wasn't entirely sure what that look in her friend's eyes was however. If she had to choose she would have said it was hope. Hope that perhaps she would be able to actually be around again. Not just as a shadow but as a whole being. As herself.

Webby was overcome with such a sudden wave of joy, she would have hugged Lena if it had not been for the circumstances making it quite difficult.

"You won't regret it, I promise!"

"Let's hope so." And there she was again. There was the Lena that Webby knew. Not as sad, not as scared, not as sorry. Just Lena. The sassy girl who always managed to be cool and would always be able to think of a clever come-back to anything under any circumstances. Webby could not supress a grin. That was the Lena she wanted to see again, the Lena that she hoped she was going to see more often from now on. Once she regained her physical form everything would be fine like it used to be, except better. They could go back to going on their little adventures together and Lena would finally have a family. One that actually cared about her. One that made her feel home. With all those thoughts, Webby was almost sure she cared about Lena more than she herself did. Well somebody had to.

"So, I believe you should be heading back to the others then. We don't want them worrying too much again, do we?"

"You're probably right..."

It was hard for Webby to loose her gaze from her friend, but eventually she managed to step towards the door. Before unlocking it she gave Lena one last look. She smiled.

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you too."

After she had opened the door and exited her room she checked if her friend was still there. But as she looked she had to realize that her shadow had gone back to its usual shape. There was no Lena. Just the result of the light not being able to enlighten the space behind her. It was funny to think about, considering she knew how much more to her shadow there really was. At least for now. If she was right, uncle Scrooge would know - or somehow find - a way to get Lena back her physical form. And if there was anything she was certain about as of this moment, it was that things would somehow work out. They would find a way. As family. After all, that's what they always did. That was just a fact.

Merry Christmas!!

[thebirbiest]

@ozcarpin

❄️ – our muses get snowed in and the electricity goes out

The night was still young when Qrow Branwen insisted on staying just a few moments longer. A single drink more. Not so naive to believe their time together would end so soon.

One drink became two, then three, then a conversation that stole both of their attention. Completely swallowed them in the laughter it brought and the warmth growing in their chests.

They never wanted this to end. Too infatuated by the other. Too captivated by the charm, the comfort that they brought to one another.

But the night stretched on and Qrow had a family to return to. A dinner he would be missed at. So he departed with an awkward string of words, rising away from the soft body that was Ozpin, and left him curled under the blanket that once held both their warmth.

With an even softer kiss to the lips, some sweet words lingering in the air, he shut the door behind all that made him happy--

Only to find his car completely buried, the world blanketed in a winter wonderland. It was, all at once, beautiful and frustrating.

Beautiful for the trees, once naked and bare, now dressed in sparkling white gowns.

Frustrating for the man, who promised his family he'd be present tonight. Promised he'd be home.

Desperate, he approaches the car. He swipes an arm across the driver's door, the snow falling to the ground heavily. A few more swipes and he, at last, manages to pull the door open. Inserting the key and turning it reveals what he already knows - he's stuck. The car, too, has been swallowed by the white glistening in the moonlight.

He feels the guilt settle in his gut, nauseating him.

He could walk, no, run? If he slipped and died, at least he'd go out with a bang. At least they'd know he tried.

A loud sigh leaves his lungs.

"Shit." Hisses out just behind it.

He removes phone from his pocket, fingers trembling as he opens his notifications.

[ Uncle Qrow, don't come home. ]

A brief wave of panic hits his chest, squeezing it in a grip so tight he can hardly breathe. Was he being disowned already? Tossed aside for staying out too late? Abandoning his family and disappointing them?

Again?

He watches several, puffs of breath condense in the air before opening the IM's fully. Red eyes scan over the multiple messages, all delivering the same message.

[ Qrow, there was an accident up the road. Pretty bad. Stay where you are tonight. ]

[ Yo, Uncle Qrow, don't be reckless tonight, got it? Stay and snuggle the night away~ ]

[ Please, Uncle Qrow. Just let me know you're safe. ]

Tai. Yang. Ruby. Always Ruby with the worrying and heart too big for her own good.

Shaky fingers type out a quick response--

[ I'm safe, kiddo. Be home when the weather clears up. ]

A single snowflake falls on his screen, melting instantly, but captures his attention for a moment. He lifts solemn eyes to the several other flakes dumping themselves onto the ground - each one just as beautiful within the gaze of the full moon.

The air is quiet - the world just as drawn to this moment as the man.

Oz.

His body moves from the car; phone tucked away and arms crossing over his chest to regain any heat lost.

Oz.

He steps back to the front door, hand raised just inches from the hardwood surface, eager to see the man behind it--

But he hesitates. The panic returns in a new wave, the thoughts even louder than before.

What if he didn't want him here? What if their time together was already enough? He was a hindrance, surely. Simply a fool. An idiot who believed he could make anyone's heart pound the way his did for the man behind the door.

Nothing he did could ever amount to anything. Could never be regarded as important or wanted. He was an idiot. He needed to leave. Needed to remember who he was and who he wasn't. He needed to remind himself that this man, so perfectly wonderful and charming, was not meant for--

"Qrow."

The voice draws a gasp from him, red eyes focusing on the bespectacled figure now in front of him - one hand on the door, the other holding a blanket wrapped around him. One brow remains raised, but Qrow recognizes the expression on his face as worry.

Why?

"Ah...hi." He breathes; words sticking to every corner of his mouth as he tries to function properly with a heart gone wild.

"I uhm," he looks to the car, then back at the man. "I'm stuck?"

He laughs. Too awkwardly.

Idiot.

"Not...stuck. I'm just, snowed in. The roads are pretty bad and I uh--"

"You're welcome to stay here for the night."

He stares. Everything inside of him freezes; his mind buzzing with a frantic cry that he can't hear. His mouth opens and shuts, cheeks suddenly too warm for his liking.

"I've even prepared some hot chocolate." The man smirks, sending all of the gears inside Qrow back into proper order again.

"So, you saw my struggle, huh?"

"I did."

"And want to lure me in with sweets?"

"I do."

A breathy laugh leaves him as something in his chest twists sharply. He swallows the lump in his throat, eyes falling to the ground in a desperate attempt to avoid anymore teasing from this man.

Something...was right. Like he'd been here before. Felt this before. Wanted this man before.

This wasn't just love.

This was home.

"Thanks," he replies at last, stepping forward and adding with a smirk of his own, "I'll keep you extra warm tonight to make up for it."

With a blush of his own, Oz rolls his eyes and steps aside to allow the man in; shutting the door behind him and helping him settle in. They return where they were before - snuggled on the couch beneath a thick blanket, eyes aimed at the television displaying some cheesy holiday-themed movie, and steaming cups of hot chocolate wrapped in their hands.

It was true bliss. An evening neither of them asked for, but both dreamed of.

It was simply a shame that no more than an hour into their quiet activities and emptied mugs, the power flickered and died - the television zapping into darkness at the climax of the film.

"Fabulous," Ozpin huffed, pulling himself away from the man and reaching for his phone, eyes skimming over the weather alert. "Right at the best part."

Qrow resisted the urge to apologize. Shoved aside the guilt that swelled in his chest and begged him to accept it. Urged him to fold and admit this was his fault. The bad luck charm at its finest.

"I suppose it isn't so bad..." Ozpin's voice makes his heart skip a beat. The words stop there, but he hears the flustered shuffling. He feels the gentle hand set itself atop his knee with a quiet sigh.

"No, it isn't." He reaches forward, finding the warmth he craves and wrapping his arms around it, pulling the man close to his chest. He rubs his face against the soft locks, taking a moment to breathe him in. To fully acknowledge that they were his, and he was theirs.

"At least we're together." The scoff is barely heard, but it brings his lips to the soft, delicate ear. "And don't worry, I'll keep you warm all night long."

"Qrow."

But the stern tone loses its strength against the kiss placed atop his lips. The stiff body sinks against the hand running itself through the white locks. Their lips pull away from each other, briefly, just enough time to whisper gently,

"I love you."

Everything melts away and fades between them, leaving a love that neither of them asked for--

But a home in which they've always belonged.