#while I’ve definitely come across worse offenders; it does feel like the first piece of info we learn about every single character is their

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

The Summer Love Strategy

YA conteporary romcom

after another unrequited crush, a girl and her best friend come up with a plan to each get a girlfriend over summer, by doing all the tropey summer activities like hanging out at the beach, and going to pride, and concerts

but when their plan starts to work she realises she might have feelings for her friend….

lesbian MC, demi-aroace autistic trans girl LI, other queer & neurodivergent characters

[unwrittenlibrary]

Fine Line

Summary: There’s a fine line between love and hate and you’re not too sure which side you’re on with Harry anymore. Part Two to What Kind of Man 

Words: 5.0k

Warnings: I said this in the first part & will repeat it. This is purely fictional. This in no way reflects how I feel Harry would handle this situation in reality. I’m really using Harry as a character. DO NOT READ THIS if you feel the situation of cheating and staying together will impact you strongly or offend you. That is not what I want when reading my story. 

Notes: I urge those uncomfortable with cheating to avoid this. I also urge those who dislike this kind of writing to avoid. I came up with this story at a point in my life where my parents were divorcing, I was going through a break up and was lost. I’ve decided to finish this story because I put so much effort into it for it to end unfinished feels wrong. I can’t speak for anybody and how they would handle this situation. 

Thank you for 1000 followers. That is crazy! 

-

You’ve got my devotion. 

But man, I can hate you sometimes.

...

You sunshine, you temptress.

My hands at risk I fold.

-

April. 

The first two sessions had gone by in relative silence. You weren’t sure what to say to answer the therapists questions. You weren’t sure you even wanted to talk at all. 

“Y/N.” You look up startled out of your thoughts. “Do you feel like talking today?” Her eyes are kind and understanding. Her degrees hang behind her head and you zone in on them. Dr. Walsh had been the only therapist who could take you on in April. Any others that you called had informed you their next opening for new patients wasn’t until the end of May. 

You supposed it could have been worse. So far, Dr. Walsh had come across as kind and understanding of your hesitance. She had never forced you to talk and had only tried to get you involved on your own accord. 

“What would we talk about?” You ask instead of ignoring in silence like you had the past two sessions. You can see Harry turn his head to look at you out of the corner of your eye, but you remained focused on the two degrees hanging behind Dr. Walsh’s head. 

UCLA. “What year did you graduate?” You ask before she can answer your original question. “From UCLA.” 

“We can talk about whatever you want. How you two met. Your kids.” You raise an eyebrow and she smiles. “1996.” 

“I thought we were supposed to talk about our issues. Why would we talk about our kids or how we met?” You answer her question. You can tell Harry’s eyes are moving back and forth between the two of you, like he’s unsure if he should get involved in the conversation. 

Dr. Walsh shakes her head. “Sometimes the best place to start is with what makes you two happy. You’re here to work on your relationship, right?” 

The two of you nod. “Then I’m not worried about starting with the most painful part of your relationship. I want to learn about it. If I can learn about your relationship then I have more knowledge on how to help you repair it, if that’s what you want.” 

“Okay.” You agree. You feel some of your tenseness fade away. You were here for a reason. “We went to UCLA too.” 

She nods. “You did? Were you studying the same thing? Is that how you two met?” 

You look down at your fidgeting hands and let out a laugh. “Not quite. I was a creative writing major and Harry was political science. We met in a World History course our sophomore. It was a general requirement class.” 

“Yeah.” Harry nods as if the memory is coming back to him. “Professor Ward.” 

“Mind if I sit here?” You look up and your breath hitches. He was handsome. That was your first thought. Bright eyes and a sweet smile that could take anyone’s breath away. 

You nod hastily. “Yeah. It’s all yours.” You move your notebook over so he has a bit more room on his half of the table.

“Thanks.” He drops his books on the table and flops down into the chair. “Harry.” He reaches a hand towards you and you meet him halfway. 

You offer your name up easily and his smile brightens. “What brings you into a World history course?” He asks quietly as the last bit of students rush into the few seats left up front. 

You smile. “Creative writing majors have to take one broad history course before focusing on any history of writing courses. Ward’s class was the only one with openings that didn’t start at eight.” 

“Creative writing. That’s cool.” Harry’s spinning the pen in between his fingers. “You want to be a writer?” 

You smile nervously and nod. “That’s the goal. What brings you to Ward’s World History?” 

Harry laughs softly. “I’m a political science major, this is just a required gen ed.” 

“Political science. What’s your plan with that? Am I sitting next to a future senator?” You give him a teasing smile. 

“Lawyer.” 

You shrug, “Senators have to start somewhere.” The professor comes in and that halts the conversation from going anywhere else. As Professor Ward goes over the syllabus you see a piece of paper slide across the table towards you. You look over at Harry, but he’s looking ahead with a smirk on his face. 

You unfold the paper and there is a number written in messy handwriting taking up the small page. 

“Bold.” You whisper to him and he shrugs. “I can tell we’re gonna be good friends.” He whispers back. 

“So you both liked each other right away?” You look up as you're dragged out of the memory of meeting Harry. 

“Yeah.” You breathe out. “I think so.” 

“Definitely.” Harry agrees. “I’m lucky I was running late that day. The seat next to her was the only good seat left. Plus, she helped edit all my essays. I was a shit writer before her.” 

You smile softly at the memory. “Y/N?”  You look up and Dr. Walsh is watching you closely. 

“That class sucked.” You can’t help but let out a laugh. “We had so many essays. He’s right, he was a shit writer before me.” 

You finally spare a look over at Harry and he’s watching you with soft eyes. “That was our first semester of sophomore year. We were attached at the hip after that.” You look back down at your hands. 

“Did you guys start dating right away?” She asks.

“Pretty much. We started dating right before winter break.”  Harry answers for the both of you. 

She nods as she eyes the clock on the wall. “Does that memory still make you happy?”

You nod. Your memories hadn’t been ruined. But that didn’t really mean anything when you could barely be in the same room as Harry now. “Of course. But… Things are different. We’re not twenty-somethings with no responsibility. We’re parents. Partners. We’re supposed to have each other’s back. And now it feels like we don’t.” 

Harry looks over at Dr. Walsh as she studies you. She was obviously taking in your words and processing a response to them. “I think the biggest question you need to find the answer to is, do you want to fix this marriage?” She finally says looking pointedly at the distance between you two. 

You pause and mull over her question. “Can we fix it?” You ask quietly. 

She shrugs. “I can’t answer that for you. It’s my job to help you find the answer, not give it to you. What I can tell you is; Sometimes people walk out of this with a new appreciation and love. Sometimes people realize it can’t be fixed. Nothing is wrong with either, it’s just up to you two to figure out which one it is.” 

You look over at Harry and find him watching you with hopeful eyes. You knew he wanted to and felt like you both could fix this. 

But you weren’t sure. “I don’t know.” 

-

The drive home is silent for the most part. Music playing softly from the radio as you stare out the passenger side window. 

“I don’t know what to say.” Harry says as he pulls the car into the driveway. He puts it into park but doesn’t turn it off so the music is still playing as he turns to look at you. 

Gemma’s car was parked behind your own. You see the curtain move slightly which is a telltale sign that a child was peeking out the window. It quickly falls back into place when your eye catches Serena’s. 

You shake your head and look back down at your lap. “What is there to say?” 

Harry shuts his eyes and you see his grip on the steering wheel tighten. “I want to fix this. I’m trying. Do you want to fix this?” 

You let out a humorless laugh. “Don’t try and guilt me, Harry. I didn’t cheat, you did. This… This mess isn’t my fault and it shouldn’t be my job to fix it.” 

“I’m not trying to guilt-“ He cuts himself off and takes a deep breath. “That was a shitty thing to say. I know. I just want to know if we’re gonna make it through this. If you think we have a chance.” 

You look over at him with watery eyes. “I don’t know. All I can think about is you fucking another woman while I was home with our kids. Telling them that you were just busy. That we would have dinner tomorrow. Or maybe the next day.” 

Harry flinches like you’ve hit him. You turn away but don’t stop talking. “I know a month may not seem like a long time in the grand scheme of things. We’ve been together for seventeen years, so what’s a month?” You laugh humorlessly. “But how long have we been distant? How long have you been staying late and missing dinners?” 

“I don’t know.” Harry whispers and you see him clench his eyes in an attempt to stop tears from falling.

“It’s been months, Harry.” You look around the yard. Your and Persephone’s plants needed maintenance. “We had Jack and then everything changed. We stopped date nights. Family game nights faded from existence. We stopped having sex. I… I don’t know what happened.” 

Harry doesn’t say anything so you sigh. “I’m trying, Harry. It may not seem like it to you, but I’m trying.” You unbuckle yourself and move to get out of the car. 

Harry reaches out and wraps his hand gently around your wrist. “I know.” He stresses the word. “I know you are.” 

You nod and the two of you just watch each other for a moment. You break away from him first. “I’m sure the kids are peeking out the window. We’ve been out here long enough.” 

The both of you climb out of the car silently. The door flies open by the time you reach the second step of your front porch. 

“Mama!” Oliver comes flying out towards you. “Mama. Never leave us again. Baby Jack is crazy.” He grips you tight and you laugh, the tension immediately leaving your body as you hug him back. 

Gemma comes to stand in the entrance with Jack on her hip. She gives you a weak smile and you smile back. “Come on, I’m sure Aunt Gem is dying to go home after watching you crazy lot for two hours.” 

Gemma leaves quickly handing Jack off to Harry and giving you and Harry both kisses on the cheek. “Let me know about spring break, Y/N!” She calls as she rushes out your front door. 

“Spring break?” Harry asks as he bounces Jack in his arms. 

“We’ll talk about it later.” You say sparing a glance down to Oliver, who’s still attached to your leg. Harry nods before moving towards the living room. Oliver follows behind him and you’re left in the front hall alone. 

You take a deep breath before following them. 

-

Harry sleeps in the guest room. You can’t bring yourself to allow him back into the room you two shared. 

His clothes remain in his half of the closet though and his toiletries had remained in place on the bathroom counter, so you saw him every night before going to sleep. 

Dr. Walsh had suggested the two of you used this time to try and reconnect. “You don’t have to sleep in the same bed yet. It’s completely normal for you to need time apart, Y/N. But I do want you two to talk before bed every night, I know you have four kids and it may be your only true alone time to reconnect emotionally before you ever do anything physically, even just sleep.” She had offered at the end of your session after you had admitted you weren’t sure how you felt about Harry and your relationship now. “This is a good way to figure out if you can still see yourself together.” 

You loved him. You didn’t need her to help you answer that question. He was the father of your children. You had over a decade of amazing times together. But you couldn’t look at him without your chest aching. 

“What was Gemma talking about spring break?” Harry sits on the lounge chair you two had placed in the corner of your room. Jack’s bassinet used to be next to it, but he had recently moved into his own room. 

You sit on the end of your bed with your arms crossed over your chest. “Olly has been asking if we could go to Disney World. I was talking to her about maybe surprising him and Serena for their birthday since it falls during the kids break this year.” 

“That sounds really nice.” Harry smiles and you nod. “I’m sure the four of them would love it. I can put in for the week tomorrow. I have a bunch of paid time off I need to use up.” 

You look up at him with wide eyes. “You want to go? We haven’t been on vacation since the beach trip before Jack was born.”

Harry’s face turns stoic. “Of course I want to go. I told you I was going to spend more time with guys.” He walks towards the dresser you have pushed against the wall. “Here, pull your laptop out, let's book this now so we can get a good room.” 

You gape at him. It had only been an idea you were considering for the twins birthday. Although, it was coming up and you were running out of time to make a decision. 

“Are you sure you can get the time off?” You ask instead of listening to his direction. 

Harry nods resolutely. “Can I?” He points next to you and you nod. You lean over to your nightstand, where you had left the computer the night before while writing. 

You push it open. “I’m gonna go get Persephone.” You stand up and hand the laptop to Harry. “She can help plan some stuff with us, so we know what these young kids want.” You give Harry a weak smile and he nods. 

You shake your hands out as you make your way down the hall towards your eldest daughter’s room. You knock softly on the door, “Seph?” 

“Come in.” She calls and you push the door open. She’s got her show paused and is curled into her comforter. “What’s up, mom?” 

“Can you help your dad and I with something?” You ask hesitantly. “I know it’s late, it’ll be quick.” 

Persephone gives you the same dimpled smile Harry has, “Of course. I was gonna be up binge watching this show anyways.” She unwraps herself from the blanket and grabs her phone before following you back to your bedroom. 

“Hey, lovebug.” Harry gives her your favorite smile. One he’s somehow reserved solely for you children. Soft and bright while his eyes shine proudly. 

“Hi, daddy.” She plops herself down next to him and rests her head on his shoulder. He presses a kiss to her forehead and the smile that spreads across Persephone’s face is contagious. 

You take a seat next to her, so she is squished in between the two of you. “You know how Olly has been asking about Disney?” You ask quietly. You and Harry had put the twins down an hour ago, but Oliver was known to sneak away from his room for a cuddle with you. 

She nods instead of verbally answering and Harry pulls up the booking website. “Your mom had the great idea to surprise the twins for their birthday.” 

“Really?” Seph asks excitedly. Your family trips usually consisted of beaches or visiting grandparents. The last time you had been to Disney was when it was just the three of you. You weren’t sure she could even remember most of the trip. 

You bump her shoulder softly with an excited grin. “Really. Jack is old enough that he can get probably through a day there without screaming his head off. Aunt Gem said that she could come to help watch him so you three can have fun.” 

“That sounds awesome!” She lifts her head from Harry’s shoulder and looks at you happily. “What did you need my help with?” 

“Picking out where to stay. You guys are the focus of the trip so we want you to stay where you want to, not us.” You gently take the laptop from Harry and place it in her hands. “So tell us your top three and then dad and I will pick from there so you still get to enjoy some of the surprise aspect.” 

She scrolls through the website for a few minutes while the three of you sit there quietly. You glance over at Harry hesitantly. He’s looking down at your daughter with bright eyes. 

You quickly look away when his eyes move up to meet yours. “Okay. I added the three I liked the most to your favorites! Did you guys need anything else?” 

You both shake your head. “Just keep this a secret. It’s going to be a surprise.” You smile excitedly at your eldest. She had grown so much, but seeing the childlike shine of excitement in her eyes brought you a bounty of joy. She was still your baby. 

Persephone nods before handing the laptop back over to Harry. She presses a kiss to both your and his cheeks before hopping up and making her way towards your door. 

You give her a confused smile when she pauses and turns back around to face you again. She takes in a nervous breath before speaking. 

“It’s really good to be all together again.” The words are quiet and fearful. “Um. I love you guys. Goodnight.” She turns on her heel and bolts out the room and back down the hall. 

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek and look down at your lap. “I’m sorry.” Harry whispers. His tone is similar to her’s. Quiet and full of fear. “I love you all. I know I hurt you, but you are all my world. Those kids are what I’m most proudest of.” 

“I know.” You look over at his lap. His hands curled tightly around the laptop still open in his lap. “I never doubted how much they meant to you Harry. I know how much you love those kids.” 

You want to reach out and pull his hand into yours. Something you usually did when Harry was scared or nervous. But you kept your hand firmly planted in your lap, unable to give him that forgiveness. 

“I was never afraid of you not loving them. I was-“ You stop unsure of what to say. What were you afraid of? “I was afraid that I had given so much and you still wouldn’t have chosen me.” 

Harry looks over at you with sad eyes and you let out a humorless laugh. “Harry, I’ve never regretted having Persephone so young. I’ve never regretted being home. But, I just want you to show that… that you appreciate me.” 

“I do appreciate you.” Harry says quietly. “I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel like I don’t.” He places the laptop in the empty space in between you. You watch as he works through what to say, his tension clear in his eyes. 

“But…” He trails off like he’s still unsure of what to say. “I’m here. I want to be here. I want to show you that I appreciate you.” Harry takes a deep breath and places a hesitant hand on your back. “As long as you’ll have me.” 

You take a deep breath. “Let’s focus on this... I want the twins to have a great birthday and for Seph to have a great spring break. Things have been tough for them too. We can figure the other stuff out later.” 

Harry doesn’t say anything, just nods and pulls the laptop back towards him. You can tell he wants to though. That he wants to talk this out and get in deep.

You just can’t bring yourself to do it. 

-

“A family vacation can be very cathartic for couples struggling.” Dr. Walsh gives the two of you a kind smile after you reveal what you had planned for your kids. “But, it can also bring about stress at being in such a small space for such a long time. Especially when you’re still struggling to communicate.” 

“I’m really trying.” You say quietly, on edge at the idea of you and Harry bringing about any stress on a trip meant to be for your kids. “We both are. I think.” 

“I know.” She gives you an understanding look. “You guys do your homework. You said it yourself, your nightly conversations aren’t painful anymore. But talking about small things is only the beginning of strengthening your communication.” 

“So you want us to talk about the affair?” You ask. “The big thing.” 

She shakes her head. “Eventually. Sweeping it under the rug or ignoring it can only cause more tension. But there are other things I’m sure you want to talk about as well.” 

“Like what?” Harry asks. He glances over at you before looking back at Dr. Walsh. 

“Anything either of you felt was an issue.” She explains. “Big or small. Anything you think contributed to your distance. Try to remember, you’re not placing blame.”

“Not even for the affair?” Harry sighs and you shut your eyes. “How can I not place blame? That’s not my fault.” 

“No.” She agrees. “I’ve never agreed with placing blame for something like that on the victim. Do you want to start with talking about it?” 

“No.” You shake your head. “I just wanted to make sure we’re not finding all these so-called small issues so we can then excuse the cheating. I won’t do that.” You say disdainfully. 

“We don’t expect you to.” She glances over at Harry. He looks pained but he nods in agreement. “Of course not.” He says quietly. 

You take a deep breath in before nodding. “Okay, then where do we start?” 

“A lot of times, affairs feel like they come out of nowhere. They do.” She gives you an assuaging look. “But it’s also important to remember that there were issues before it and they’re still there to be worked through. We want to work through the big problem, but oftentimes couples work through that but not other things and end up separating.” 

You nod and take a deep breath trying to think through issues. Things had felt perfect during your pregnancy with Jack. 

You were excited, a fourth child and it was a boy, you and Harry had been hoping for another boy. Harry had even planned the small family vacation to the beach so you could enjoy time together as a family of five before it became six. 

“We argued.” You say quietly. The family vacation slips from your mind as your exhausted tears come to your memory. “Um. I had Jack and I was exhausted and we argued. It was barely even an argument.” 

“He still won’t eat?” Harry asks, coming into the bedroom. He was still in his suit from court and you feel angry heat flush through you at how put together he looked. How well rested and up he looked. 

You shake your head silently. Harry seems to not notice your tense jaw as he pushes his way into the closet to find clothes for the night. You turn to look down at Jack laying restlessly in your arms. Tears rush to your eyes as you stand and place Jack in his bassinet and finally get a look at yourself in the mirror hanging next to the closet door. 

You hadn’t showered since Persephone had left earlier the previous day and after running around to get the twins settled with Gemma and taking care of the baby all day you felt tense and gross. 

Harry comes out and smiles kindly as he watches you step towards the ensuite. “Can you watch him for a moment? I need a shower. I feel gross and it’ll help me relax. My nurse said getting tense makes it harder to breastfeed.” 

Harry looks down at his watch. “Something more important?” You ask before he can get a word out. “No. Just- I was supposed to hop on a conference call with Jeff, I’ll reschedule.” Harry tries to change the tone of the conversation, but you’ve already seen red. “Y/N, go shower.” 

“I’m sorry.” You say instead of moving. “I didn’t mean to inconvenience you with your child for half an hour.” You know you don’t mean the harsh words and that you’ll probably regret them all after you’ve taken a break but- “I’m home all day with him, but fuck if I ask you to watch him so I can shower.” 

Harry’s eyes widen at the cold tone. He crosses his arms defensively across his chest as he takes a step back from you, even though he was already several feet away. “I never said I was inconvenienced. You asked a question and I answered honestly. I don’t have a problem spending time with my own child, Y/N.” 

Your turn on your heel and stock into the ensuite and slam the door shut behind you. You hear Jack begin to fuss more and Harry’s whispers as he presumably picks the baby up. There wasn’t a time in the fifteen years you’ve had children that you’ve ever thought Harry didn’t want to spend time with his kids. You still didn’t. But the exhaustion and stress that you felt with Jack was unlike anything you’d felt before and Harry hadn’t seemed to notice. 

“It felt like you weren’t paying attention.” You say quietly. “It felt like you had no idea what was going on.” Dr. Walsh trains her eyes on you as Harry’s eyes flick around trying to figure out what argument you were talking about. 

“I’m sorry.” You say quietly. Jack is curled in your arms as he eats and a weight has been lifted off your shoulder. You feel shameful at the words that had slipped out in an attempt to make Harry notice how upset you were. “I know you’re not inconvenienced by our kids.” 

Harry turns his head to look at you. He had been silently typing out emails as you fed Jack, upset but refusing to leave your side. “What’s wrong?” He asks as he slams the laptop shut. 

You want to tell him. How stressed and anxious you felt. How much tougher being with Jack was than any of your other children. How insecure it made you feel. You should tell him.

But. 

“How could I tell you all that and not sound like I’m angry at our child? Not sound like an awful mother?” You choke on the words. 

Harry stares at you with what looks like pity and you turn away. You didn’t want pity. You wanted help. You wanted him to understand. “You don’t sound like a horrible mother. You sound tired.” 

“What stopped you from telling him this?” Dr. Walsh prompts gently as you and Harry fall into silence. Her eyes flicker to Harry as he watches you with the same sad eyes. 

You shrug. “I just wanted him to notice. I wanted to feel like he still noticed me.” You let out a breath. “We love Jack, but Jack wasn’t exactly planned. We weren’t sure if we wanted a fourth and had only just begun talking about it. When I found out I was pregnant and figured out how excited I felt, I knew I wanted to keep him.” You explain to the therapist carefully. “We decided that we wanted him, but he would be our last one.”

You think of the doctors appointments and heavy warnings that a fourth pregnancy could wreck havoc on your body. 

“But I’m not twenty-three anymore and the pregnancy was really tough on me. And Harry knew. So he took care of the kids when I couldn’t and he planned vacations for me before I gave birth and it-” You breath catches. “It felt like you didn’t care anymore once I had him because I wasn’t in danger anymore. But Jack is stubborn and I was struggling.” 

Harry takes in a shaky breath and reaches out to steady your trembling hands. 

It’s a start. You guess. 

-

“I didn’t realize how tough Jack was on you.” Harry says quietly that night. You had been dreading sitting in the awkward silence. 

You shrug. “Babies are tough. Persephone was tough because we were so young. Serena and Oliver were tough because they were twins.” Your baby monitor makes a sound and you glance over to see Jack stretching his arms. 

You sigh and stand up. “Jack was… Jack was tough in a way I wasn’t expecting. Maybe it was because I had four kids all of the sudden or because you started working more. I was exhausted all the time.” 

You leave before he can say anything in response, but you know he’ll follow you to Jack’s room. You push the door open quietly and hear Jack’s soft giggles. 

“Hello, handsome.” You whisper as he looks up at you. “What’s got you awake?” 

You pick him up gently and bring him over to the rocking chair placed in the corner of the room. Harry leans against the door jam. 

You rock back and forth with Jack in your arms and Harry watched with gentle eyes. You look up as Harry begins to speak quietly. “I wish I could take everything back. Just… Redo this past year.” 

You look down at Jack and run a gentle finger over his cheek. “You can’t. You don’t get redos in real life.” 

The room is silent as you rock your baby back to sleep and Harry watches. 

-

We’ll be a fine line.

-

Notes: Title song Fine Line. This is really a filler for the next piece, I needed April to get to May :/

A few things; I have them staying together written. While this has been my plan since I begun writing this part & the next, if it’s something people wanted, I could do two different endings.

Like I said, I wrote this at a low place for me and had always imagined it as some type of closure that I never got from my parents situation or from my ex. Cheaters suck. But, some people do work through it. Some people can’t. That’s the beauty of our autonomy, we decide. I got a lot (and I mean a lot) of messages urging me to be mindful of impressionable people who may read this piece & with that I want to say; Your situation is not this one. Some cheaters will always be cheaters. This is not in anyway trying to convince you that a toxic relationship is okay. Or that cheating is okay. Please remember this is fiction and not meant to do anything other than entertain you! This is a piece I wrote & a piece whose ending I choose. Thank you for reading. I love every single person who read What Kind of Man and thought, I want more of this person’s writing.

(please do not be mean to me, I write for fun & am very emotional thank u)

[lettheladylead]

Not Your Aunt

Chapter 8: Webby [ao3 link]

It had officially been one week since Goldie first stepped foot in the manor. And she was still there. This was the longest she’d ever spent in Scrooge’s home since his cabin in the Klondike (excluding times when she was sick or injured, of course).

She was pretty sure, by this point, that Scrooge was avoiding her. He’d been spending a lot of time with his daughter (or whatever) and a lot of time at the Money Bin trying to fix the many issues that cropped up over the past few months with his money managers betraying him, but then even the time he did spend at the manor seemed to always involve other people besides her. The only alone time they’d had was right after he crawled into bed, but every single night their conversations were brief and then he’d fall right to sleep.

So she was a little annoyed. She’d had a few conversations with the kids, sat in on a few dinners, harassed Beakley, been harassed by Sharpie...it’d been quite the couple of days. But it was getting late and she couldn’t wait much longer to talk to him about how she was feeling or how he was feeling or where they might want their relationship to go after all of this…

Ugh. Goldie sighed and wandered around the upstairs hallway. She hated thinking about mushy family stuff, but ever since Florida she’d been feeling an unstoppable pull towards the Ducks and she kind of wanted to relax and see what could happen. But if Scrooge couldn’t make any time for her in the next few days, she was definitely leaving and not coming back for at least a year. Love or not, she did not take well to being ignored.

A door ajar in the distance caught Goldie’s attention and she started walking towards it, curiosity being the best cure for her boredom. She wasn’t sure what that room was - Scrooge didn’t redecorate much, but she couldn’t keep track of everything since he collected so much junk and had 50 regular rooms plus another 10 secret rooms and who could remember all of that?

Goldie tried to peek inside, but it was pretty dark except for a small light in the corner. With a shrug, she forwent her usual sneakiness and just fully opened the door to let the light from the hallway light up the room.

She was met with a surprised chirp and two bright eyes staring directly at her.

Goldie stared back, not sure what to make of what she was seeing.

Webbigail was sitting on a table near the back of the room with a giant book on her lap - surrounded by heaps of other similar-looking books. She looked sweaty and grimy, and the whole room was covered in a thick layer of dust.

“...wh-what are you doing here?!” Webby asked, closing the book that was on her lap.

Goldie raised an eyebrow and decided this situation was interesting enough to explore. “I could ask you the same thing,” she said as she took a few steps towards the girl.

Webby frowned and shook her head for a second before wiping her hand across the cover of the book. “I was, um...well...trying to learn some stuff.”

Goldie leaned against the table Webby was sitting on and craned her neck so she could properly see what she was holding. Oh. “In an ancient photo album?”

“Yeah,” Webby said a little sadly. “Uncle S-, er...my dad has been telling me all about our family...well, just more than usual, I guess...but some things still weren’t quite adding up and I thought maybe I could piece things together on my own.”

Goldie raised an eyebrow and stared at the girl without responding.

She didn’t seem to notice. “I’ve always liked connecting things together...before I was told anything about the McDuck Clan or my dad’s life story, I went through all his different biographies and the photos he has around the house and tried to figure it all out myself. And now he’s telling me things that almost, like...conflict with other things he’s said or other things I’ve read about and it’s just getting confusing.”

“Well,” Goldie said quietly, “he is pretty old, you know. Could be he’s just forgetting some things or mixing up stories.”

“But...but he’s Scrooge McDuck!” Webby said with a frown, opening the photo album again. “It’s one thing to forget a few details from a story, but like…” She pointed to a photo of Scrooge’s parents and a very small baby duckling. “The back of this photo says it’s from 1939, but whose baby is that?! Hortense didn’t have kids until the 1980s and Matilda never had kids so is this just some random baby or-”

“That’s Gideon,” the blonde answered, pointing to the way the baby’s hair stuck out at the top. “Scrooge’s half-brother.”

Webby stared at the photo again, then up at Goldie, her mouth wide open in shock. “Wh...wait, so...does that mean one of my grandparents had a baby with someone else while they were still married?”

“Uhh…” Goldie leaned back and scratched her neck. She knew Scrooge didn’t like to talk about his brother much, but she’d met the man a few times so there was no point ignoring the physical similarities. Though the complications of his conception might be why Scrooge didn’t bring him up. “...something like that. Don’t worry about the details too much.”

“Worrying about the details is exactly why I’m here,” Webby mumbled, flipping through a few more pages. She glanced up at Goldie. “You know my family really well, don’t you?”

“Not by choice, but yeah. If you think Scrooge loves to talk about his family now, you wouldn’t believe how he was back in the day. Very talkative.”

“I know the feeling,” Webby said, chuckling a bit to herself. “Lena said I’ve always been a little too obsessed with the McDuck family and now I’ve gotten even worse.”

Goldie felt an unfamiliar twinge in her chest and plopped a hand down on Webby’s head. “If she’s still sticking around, it doesn’t bother her as much as she says it does. Trust me.”

The preteen seemed to think about that, letting out a low hum while she considered Goldie’s words. “Trusting you doesn’t seem like the smart thing to do, but it sounds like you’re talking from experience.”

Goldie removed her hand from Webby’s head and shoved it back in her pocket. “Despite what your granny says, I’m not always lying.”

Webby turned her whole body towards Goldie. “I don’t think you were lying about Gideon either...so...would it be okay if I asked you about other confusing photos from any of these albums?”

Goldie sighed and lifted herself up to sit on the table, too. “You can. I really think you should just ask Scrooge about all this stuff, though. A few memory lapses here and there doesn’t mean he’s going to withhold entire family members from you.”

“I know, I know,” Webby mumbled and held the album against her chest. “I’m just still getting used to all this. I feel like I should know all these people already, y’know? Like...like Elvira Coot, the mother of Quackmore Duck, isn’t related to Scrooge McDuck at all, but they refer to each other as cousins in a lot of old letters. Is it just them being friendly with each other? Or is my research totally and completely wrong?”

“They’ve just known each other for a very long time,” Goldie said matter-of-factly. “Some people call old friends brother or sister, some people call them cousin. Scrooge usually just generally calls everyone his family, but some people get friendly little titles.”

“That’s very confusing.”

“It is what it is,” Goldie bent one of her legs so she could lean on her knee. “Scrooge has always enjoyed being a little confusing.”

“Is that why he likes you? ‘Cause you’re confusing, too?” Webby asked with an innocent tilt of her head.

Goldie rolled her eyes. “Maybe. I’m sure he’s got a long list of reasons why he does or doesn’t like me.”

Webby huffed out a short laugh as she tapped her hands on the open album page. There were photos of a few familiar members of Scrooge’s family and even a baby picture of Donald and Della.

“...you are really confusing,” Webby said, breaking the awkward silence. She didn’t let Goldie interrupt as she continued. “I don’t think I understand you at all. You’ve been here for a whole week so...are you moving in? Or what’s going on?”

“I’m just here to talk to Scrooge.” Goldie grabbed a photo album that was next to her on the table and flipped it open. “He’s been particularly busy this past week so I’m waiting.”

Webby watched her flip through pages and wondered if there were going to be any more secret relatives she didn’t know about in there. “I didn’t think you liked waiting for things.”

“Not a huge fan, no.”

“But you’re still here,” Webby mused. She watched as Goldie stopped flipping pages and stared down at a photo of Hortense and Quackmore, clearly having a fun time on their wedding day. It was a very sweet picture. “Huey says you and Scrooge are gonna get married, too.”

Goldie rolled her eyes and flipped past the wedding photo. “I’m sure he did.”

“If you did get married...would that make you my mom?”

Goldie closed the album and glared down at the girl next to her, annoyed that these kids were so interested in weddings and marriages. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” Webby asked, trying not to seem too confused.

“Why would it?” Goldie said with a hand to her forehead. “At the most, I’d be your stepmother, and that’s only in the very unlikely scenario where I say ‘yes’ to Scrooge’s proposal.”

“But this is a hypothetical scenario, so...if you did get married...would I be allowed to call you mom?”

“Ugh.” She knew there was a line here where her crabbiness would start to offend, but Goldie was not enjoying this line of questioning. “Even in this magical, crazy, hypothetical scenario...I would rather you didn’t. If I’m being completely honest, I’m still uncomfortable hearing you call Scrooge ‘Dad’.”

Webby, rather than be offended like Goldie thought, laughed out loud. “You think you’re uncomfortable with it?! I’ve been saying it over and over in my head all week and it still doesn’t sound right!”

Goldie raised an eyebrow at her and Webby froze, clearly surprised at her own outburst, and settled down. “Sorry. I shouldn’t say that. It’s just a little weird still.”

“Why shouldn’t you talk about how weird it is?” Goldie asked genuinely, leaning back on her hands. “If you don’t want to call him ‘Dad’ then you don’t have to.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Webby mumbled, imitating Goldie’s lean. “If I go back to calling him ‘Uncle Scrooge’ then it’s gonna seem like I’m rejecting him or something. That’s too mean. I can’t be mean like that.”

“It’s not mean.” Goldie sighed and turned towards the younger girl. “It’s your life. Call him whatever feels right to you."

Webby leaned her head back to stare up at the ceiling. "I've never had a dad or a mom before so I think I should keep trying for a little longer. It might just feel weird 'cause it's so unfamiliar."

"Or maybe it feels weird because it is weird," Goldie grumbled. "His DNA was stolen and used to create you, sure. So he's your father, but does that really make him your dad?"

The younger girl glared at the ceiling for a moment before turning towards Goldie again. "I don't understand what you mean."

"Being your biological father is significant, obviously. But family is whatever you want it to be." Goldie sighed and stared down at another photo - one of a much younger looking Scrooge. "You can run away from it. You can accept it without question. Or you can just try to figure it out."

Webby watched Goldie's face - trying to read the woman's expression as she stared at the photo. "I think I get that."

"Your grandmother wouldn't appreciate you listening to me, you know."

She smiled. "I know. But it's kind of interesting to get a more...outside perspective. I mean you're not not part of the family, but you weren't a part of all…" Webby waved her hands around for emphasis. "...this stuff."

"I suppose," Goldie said as she put the photo of Scrooge back down. A part of her really wanted to take it, especially knowing that Scrooge never went into this room so he likely hadn't looked at any of these photos in over fifty years. He wouldn't miss it!

"Do you think...um…" Webby stumbled over her words. "...do you think he'd be mad if I started calling him Uncle Scrooge again?"

"No," Goldie answered sternly. "He wouldn't be mad. Especially given everything that's happened with your family lately, I think an opportunity for some normalcy would be appreciated."

Webby flipped to another page in the photo album while Goldie spoke, and her eyes widened as she saw a familiar face in one of the old photos. She looked back up at Goldie and then back down at the photo. "So...if I call him Uncle Scrooge, then I guess I can call you Aunt Goldie, huh?"

Goldie turned to scold Webby for bringing up that nickname that she always knew would come up around these Duck children...when she came face-to-face with a photograph she didn't even know existed. Webby was holding it up dramatically, smiling smugly as she did so.

It was a slightly out-of-focus snapshot of Scrooge and Goldie in wedding attire, at an altar. Pretty clearly getting married.

Goldie quickly snatched it from the girl's hand and turned it around to check if there was a date or any notes. In Scrooge's handwriting it said "1953. Almost felt real."

She blushed a bit and turned it back around. "...I didn't know there were any pictures from this."

"And to think you made such a big deal out of my hypothetical scenario! But you're already married!" Webby looked more smug than she'd looked in a while, clearly ready to announce this news to the whole family.

Goldie frowned, unable to tear her face away from the image. Both her and Scrooge's faces were visible and, despite being at a bit of a distance, she could see just how happy they were at that moment. "...it was a con. A business decision. Not a real marriage."

"So you got an annulment afterwards?"

She laughed. "You think Scrooge would waste money on something like that? No, we just...moved on. I completely forgot it even happened."

"Well, Aunt Goldie, it doesn't look like he's forgotten."

Goldie sighed and pocketed the photo, wondering if she should show it to Scrooge later and shake out some memories. "Clearly he hasn't been in this room for a long time, so I wouldn't assume that."

Webby's excitement died down just a bit as she noticed Goldie's lack of embarrassment. "Isn't this...I mean, I know you say you don't wanna marry him, but you're still here despite everything plus you're already married! You really are Aunt Goldie and I don't get why you'd try to fight it."

The blonde frowned and exhaled loudly through her nostrils, trying to think of the best way to explain how she felt. "You've spent a long time idolizing Scrooge, right? Wanting to be a part of his family and whatnot."

"...yeah?"

"And from what I could tell, you two were getting close over the past few years. You called him Uncle Scrooge, he remembered your name. Yeah?"

"...uh-huh…" Webby had a feeling she knew where this was going.

"But now that this father-daughter thing was suddenly dumped in your lap in such a...such an awful way, really, you're feeling weird about it. Maybe it feels a little hollow, like this is what you wanted but it's not how you wanted it."

Webby frowned deeply - Goldie was completely right, but hearing the words said so casually didn't make her feel better about it.

"...that's what that wedding was for me," Goldie finished, finally connecting the two thoughts together. "I'd...wanted to be closer to him. I thought we were headed there. And then he suggested that plan and how could I say no? He was splitting the money with me 60/40 and I knew I could steal my missing ten percent whenever I felt like it."

"So you wanted to get married, but then you did but for the wrong reasons?"

Goldie sighed and shrugged. "Basically. It was a long time ago. Things change."

"And some things don't change," Webby added, noticing that Goldie was still staring at the photo in her hand. "You've had decades to talk to him about this, so why haven't you?"

"Eh," Goldie answered and stuffed the photo into her pocket. "Adult relationships are complicated."

Webby shook her head. "Not all of them. Just the ones that don't talk to each other."

Goldie glared down at Webby again, but the girl was already flipping pages in the album once more. She wasn't going to whine to a kid about how she was trying to talk to Scrooge but he was just making it difficult. Maybe if she told him she'd spent some time with his kid, he'd finally sit down and talk to her.

"Who's this?" Webby asked suddenly, pointing to another photo.

This one was older - depicting a young Scrooge (maybe nine years old?) with an even younger child that looked very similar to him. Goldie pouted and put a hand to her chin before grabbing the photo and turning it over to see if anything was written on the back.

"Oh, this is Douglas. One of Scrooge's cousins."

"On whose side?" Webby asked curiously.

Goldie shrugged. "Not sure. I know he lived alone in the Netherlands somewhere until he died, but he and Scrooge weren't very close, from what I could tell."

"Oh." Webby looked down at the photo, not really being able to read either child's expression. She supposed photos from the 1870s were rarely as expressive as ones from modern day. "You really know a lot about my family.”

"It's completely useless information taking up valuable space in my brain," Goldie complained with a smirk. "Maybe I'd be fluent in Mandarin if not for Scrooge."

Webby smiled, happy that she was able to recognize Goldie's words as a joke. "Well it's not useless to me. Thanks, Aunt Goldie."

Goldie frowned and rolled her eyes, but that just made Webby smile. She felt like she was starting to understand this woman...just a little bit.

A realization hit her and Webby suddenly gasped before hopping off the table. Goldie watched her with curious surprise. "I need to update my board!" Webby said as she rushed towards the door.

Goldie raised an eyebrow and hopped off the desk to follow. "I have no idea what that means!"

She followed Webby out the door and down the hall, until the girl was back in her own room. Goldie stuck her head inside just in time to see the unveiling of an insane-looking board filled with photos and string and notes and hearts and…

"...is that a locket with my face in it?" Goldie mumbled as she continued into the room. She stared at the locket as Webby ran around looking for something.

As she reached out to grab the strangely unfamiliar locket, Webby was suddenly on a step stool next to her and reaching for it herself. Goldie watched silently as the girl tugged her away from her little grouping of villains (rude) and moved her oh-so-closer to Scrooge.

Goldie blushed the slightest bit as Webby shortened the string, added some little hearts, and slammed a sticky note between them that said MARRIED-ISH!

"There's no way I'm letting you keep that up."

Webby laughed and wagged her finger in Goldie's face. "I'll just put it back when you leave!"

Goldie crossed her arms over her chest. "Then I'll just have to st...hm."

Webby's eyes were sparkling.

"...visit more often."

The correction didn't dull Webby's sparkle, instead she just smiled brighter. "I think everyone would really like that." 

Goldie raised an eyebrow. "Nice try, but I can assure you that your grandmother would sooner attend my funeral than enjoy having me around."

Webby hopped off the step stool. "Then you'll just have to win her over!" she said with a skip as she pushed the stool back to its regular spot.

"Yeah...I don't really see that happening," Goldie mumbled, not objecting when Webby grabbed her hand and tugged her towards the door.

"I think you could be friends! You just have to try!"

Goldie rolled her eyes but still didn't pull her hand out of Webby's grip. "Don't get your hopes up, Pink," she said with a sigh, but there was a little part of her that wondered if getting along with the whole family was even possible. She'd spent so long pushing away from Scrooge and his family and his friends that she'd never really considered what it would be like to actually...try. And she struggled to admit it, but...she wanted to find out.

She squeezed Webby's little hand and stared down at the bouncing bow on her head. Goldie still wasn't anyone's aunt, but...if she had to be, Scrooge's kids would be her first choice.

[notyetneedcoffee]

Stiches, Part 2

A/N: Yep, I’ve ventured off the Marvel path and penned a few tales for The Witcher! 

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut

Stiches Part 1 

Consciousness came slowly, like sunlight filtering through a thick fog. Warmth surrounded your heavy limbs and when you tried to move, a delightful pang registered in the muscles of your inner thighs. A low moan slipped passed your lips as the ache between your legs caused a flood of images from the night before to crash across your mind.

You told the traveling Witcher you wanted to feel him for days after he left. The man took you at your word. Playing your body with the mastery of a hundred years of practice, Geralt assured your cunt stayed swollen and wet as he fucked you thoroughly, roughly, and repeatedly.

“Stay put,” a deep gravely voice rumbled against your ear. A strong arm pulled you tighter to his bulk. “I am not ready to awaken yet.”

You turned in his arms to bury your face in the hair of his chest. Your knee easily slipped between his thighs as his legs tangled with your own. His large hand settled at the back of your neck, and you felt his deep sigh. His weighty and lax body wrapped around yours. His half hard cock pressed into you belly. Despite fatigue, your hand moved between you to wrap around his length.

“Hmm.” Geralt pumped into your palm once before pulling your hand away and pressing your palm to his lips. “Sleep now, my dove.” He chuckled lightly. “Later I shall plow you like the fields of wheat in Novigrad.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you nuzzled into his chest and succumbed to the warmth, drifting off to sleep again.

Darkness enveloped the world. The warmth surrounding you turned your limbs numb, preventing you from moving away from the wailing in your ears. Harsh and painful, the sound clawed at your mind brought you to panic. You needed to run, needed to flee, but you couldn’t move. Not even a sound came forth as you tried to scream. The source of the wail pulled at you, ripping into your chest, tearing the life from your breast.

Light flared. Fire seared your flesh. Breath rushed through your lungs and you screamed.

Hard rough hands shook you. A deep voice called your name. Your eyes popped open to see Geralt on his knees over you, gripping your shoulder hard. Shock left your heart beating like a galloping horse. Cold steel brushed against your hand and you realize his sword lay beside you.

With another shake he said your name, scowling. “Are you with me? Why do you have a Hym attached to you?”

“What?” You looked up at him. “I, um, I have nightmares.”

“Nightmares?” Geralt’s jaw clenched. He let you go, sitting back to lean on the headboard and place his sword beside the bed. “No,” he huffed. “A hym has attached itself to you. What have you done?”

You sat up, pulling the blanket up with you. “What? I have not-“

“Don’t lie to me.” Geralt large hand grasped your jaw. You never saw him move. He was just suddenly holding you down, growling in your face. “Hyms only feed upon the guilty. What have you done?”

A tightness gripped your throat, but it wasn’t Geralt’s hand. Tears burned your eyes. “I don’t know.”

He released your jaw, but didn’t let you go. He pulled you upon his lap.  “Tell me of the creature in your nightmares. Is it just in your dreams, or does it whisper to you while awake?”

“Just nightmares.” You twisted your fingers in the blanket. “They come once, maybe twice, a week.”

“I suspect,” he tilted his head to look at your downcast face. “That is the only time you allow yourself to sleep soundly.” You nodded. He took a deep breath, running his fingertips down your spine. “Hyms attach to persons holding onto guilt, great guilt. They feed on it, create a darkness in the person, so they can feed even more.”

Silent tears slipped down your cheeks.

“I can help you, little dove. I can defeat this thing, but you have to tell me.” The warmth of his large hands slipped up to rest upon the base of your neck. His voice rumbled low and deep, but it made you want you curl against him and weep.

“The spring after my husband was killed,” You sniffed and leaned into Geralt’s chest. “One of the smiths, Wallen, attempted to gain my favor. I turned him away, but he persisted. He became obsessive and abusive. I feared him and took great pains to never be alone with him.”

He remained silent, but his fingers began their journey over your back again.

“One day three men came to town. They were part of the raiders who attacked when my husband died. I knew they were dangerous, knew they would kill without remorse.” Your voice dropped to a whisper. Never before had you uttered the words, “I knew they were listening when I lied about a large commission Wallen had taken.”

Geralt nodded. “They killed him for riches he did not have.”

“I told myself, I just lied. I didn’t kill him. It was a little lie, that’s all.” You wept. “He was vile and mean. I could not push him away anymore. He attempt to...he nearly...I knew he would do worse than force me if he caught me alone. I was afraid.”

A single rueful huff erupted from his chest. Geralt pressed his lips to your hair. “Such feelings for nothing but a cunning solution to a problem.”

“But…”

“If this man came after you, and you held a blade, what would you do?”

“Use it.” You huffed.

“If he came after you, and you own attack hounds, what would you do?”

“I’d release them.” Your tears ceasing.

“So all you did, my dove, is release the dogs you had at your disposal.” Geralt pressed his mouth to the sensitive skin below your ear. His tongue slipped along the edge of your ear before he nipped at it lightly. “Now that you have spoken of it, the hym can be fought.”

“How?” You turned your face into his neck.

“Tonight you will take me to where the Smithy was killed.” He felt you stiffen, but he shifted you in his hold to tuck you closer to his chest. “You can. You will. The hym will come to you. Then I will kill it.”

“How do you kill a nightmare?” You asked in a small voice.

“I’m a Witcher.” He chuckled. “Or had you forgotten?”

“No,” you quietly laughed. “How could I?”

“Then tonight I shall slay your monster.” His hand tipped your head up. His breath washed over your lips.

“But I have no coin to give you.” You fought not to smile.

“Then we shall have to barter.” Geralt’s mouth possessed yours, drawing a delicious moan from you. He tossed away the offending blanket, and moved you to straddle his lap. Your fingers tangled in his white hair. As your tongues battled, his hands encircled your waist and he rocked you against him. Your breasts raked over his chest.  

Still sensitive from the night’s amorous activities, you grew wet against his hardening cock. You nipped and kissed along his neck. “Gods, you feel so good.”  

He only grunted, as his rough hand squeezed your breast, thumb rubbing over your taunt nipple. With a fluid movement, he flipped you both. You landed on your back. Geralt hooked your knees over his arms. Leaning forward he trailed love bites down your chest.

“So sweet.” He hummed against the soft skin of your inner thigh. The scruff of his chin grazed your sensitive clit and you gasped. Geralt laid the flat of his tongue over you, soothing you, teasing you. “Do you need rest, my dove?”

“No.” You panted, fingers twisting in his hair.

“What is it you want?” His voice vibrated through your body.

“Fuck me.” You breathed.

He chuckled, crawling up your body, painting a trail with his mouth. When his cock pressed against your slick core, he kissed you hard, burying himself deep. His groan mixed with your moan. Unlike the night before, he moved slow and deliberate. The length of him moving in and out at such a pace that your breath became one, the tension coiled, and heat spread.

“Yes,” you clung to his shoulders, legs wrapping tightly around his hips. His fingers dug deep into the meat of your ass, holding you tight. His weight pressing into you and the scent of his sweat filling your head, you lost yourself in him.

His pace quickened. Your body tightened. You curled your hips up. His hips snapped, cock hitting you perfectly. Your thighs shook. His grunts mingled with your cries. Geralt pounded into you with force. You dug your nails into his back, coming hard. He growled, following you.

You held on with weak limbs, relishing in the feel of him. He rolled and pulled you along with him. Your fingers trailed down his side, feeling the stitched you placed there just the day before. Lifting up, you checked his wound. It was pink, but looked a week old.

“Told you I heal quickly.” Geralt sighed.

“Good thing,” you settled into the crook of his arm. “I’d hate to aggravate an injury before you go monster slaying again.”

He huffed. “It would be worse if you sent me off hungry.”

You laughed, sitting up. His eyes were closed and a relaxed smile was on his face. “I think I can manage to satisfy your appetite.”

Geralt’s golden eyes met yours, glinting with mirth. “You’re definitely doing that, but what about food?”

Soon the two of you were dressed and seated at your favorite table in front of the fire. The inn owner, Rulla, thankfully did not comment as you immerged from the Witcher’s room. She just gestured to your table and followed with a pitcher of ale and cups.

“About time. I suppose you’re hungry.” Her reproachful words did not match the teasing smile on her lips. When Geralt grunted an agreement, she wondered off to quickly return with a large platter. Unloading bowls of stew, loaves of bread, and a large plate of cured meat and dried fruit.

Your stomach grumbled, realizing for the first time how famished he’d made you. Geralt tore off a piece of bread and began to eat with purpose. He did everything with purpose; eating, fucking, monster killing.

By the time this Witcher moved on, he would not only leave you well bedded, but free of your nightmares. You smiled, feeling better than you had in ages.    

   TAGS:

If you wish to be added to my Witcher tags, please message me! 

If you are on my “Everything” Tag list for Marvel stuff, please let me know you want to be on this stuff too!

My Masterlist

[ourloveisforthelovely]

The Fall 4

Harry Potter AU

Pairings: Sirius Black x Reader 

Link to Chapter 3

Rating: M

_______

“Y/n, don’t do it. She isn’t worth it.”

Sirius said carefully as he followed you through Kings Cross. All he could see was the disaster waiting to happen!

“She needs to hear it! She is a horrible toad of a woman and has personally offended me.”

Sirius glanced over his shoulder at James, who looked as nervous as he did. All he could see was your little 5’3 self storming up to his intimidating mother and telling her exactly what you thought of her! Sirius was ready to grab you, if need be, and vanish. Between James and himself, they could get you away before the sparks started flying.

The moment Walburga Black came into view, Sirius was pleading with you to just go another direction. He also knew telling you not to do something worked about as well as baptizing a cat. Once that you had something in your head, he needed to be ready to pick up the pieces. Typically Sirius didn’t mind. He was always ready to scoop you out of whatever mess your feisty temper got you into, however, his mother was another story.

“Mrs. Black?”

Walburga knew who you were. Y/n Potter was no secret to the Black family. Walburga knew that you had been with her son for over 2 years now and was probably part of the reason he went around the twist.

“What do you want, child? Haven’t you ruined my life and family enough?”

Walburga said, rolling her eyes. You didn't back down as so many people did when Walburga’s cold eyes fell on them.

“No, you’re done that yourself. How dare you hurt Sirius the way you have! You should be ashamed of yourself for being an abusive cold monster!”

Sirius quickly wrapped his arms around your waist. If Walburga cared for him at all, she wouldn't attack you while in his arms. Sure, it was a long shot but he couldn’t risk you being harmed.

“Stay out of things that you don’t understand. Sirius is no son of mine.”

You were trembling in Sirius’ arms as he hissed at you to calm down.

“I totally understand that you are a psychopath and I am thrilled that I won’t have to deal with you as my mother in law! You don’t have to worry about your son. I’ll give him the love that he deserves and that you are incapable of giving…”

Sirius’ eyes snapped open. He hadn’t had that dream in a long time. It seemed since Harry and yourself arrived a few days before; you were not leaving Sirius’ mind at all.

When Sirius tried to move, he became aware that he wasn’t alone. Looking down quickly, his mouth dropped seeing you draped across him. Your face was snuggled against his shoulder while your left arm was thrown across his chest.

“What did I do last night?”

Sirius thought as he tried to think about the previous evening. The conversation with you slowly replayed through his mind.

“You can kiss me all you want tomorrow.”

If you wanted nothing to do with him that would be one weird statement to make. Sirius slowly turned on his side before you wiggled right back against his chest. He slowly reached down and stroked his finger over your cheek.

Your hazel eyes fluttered open slowly. To Sirius’ relief, you didn’t jump and try to bolt from the room. Instead, you actually smiled at him. It had to be the most beautiful smile that he had seen in a long time too!

“I would ask what we did last night but we both have clothes on.”

Sirius said with a small grin. You smiled again.

“You were super drunk and arguing with your mother’s picture. Me getting in bed to cuddle you was the only thing that would shut you up.

Sirius rolled his eyes. That sounded like himself!

“You know that I’m a needy drunk. Does that promise of getting to kiss you anytime I want still stand?”

He was surprised when you leaned forward and pushed your lips to his. Sirius wanted to kiss you longer. When you pulled away, it took all he had not to protest.

“That should answer your question”

You replied with a shy smile.

“What changed your mind?”

Sirius asked out of curiosity. The day before, you were adamant that you would not take him back now you were in his bed offering kisses. Your hazel eyes rolled back to his.

“I don’t want to hold onto the bad parts of our past anymore. You’re here...I’m here. It's the way things are supposed to be.”

“Y/n, about what you told me...the way I acted...you didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry that you had to go through all of that alone. I should have stayed home that morning that I went after Peter like you asked. I was so angry…”

Sirius knew that he should have said more but the pounding in his head made finding all of the right words difficult. He was relieved when you seemed pleased with his apologies.

“I was angry that day too. Not at you, but at Peter. I also knew that there was no sense in arguing with you that morning. I knew that you were going to kill him and as bad as it sounds…I didn’t mind. I’m sorry that I bought into the whole narrative that you spread around. I know you better than that. I can’t even give you an excuse…”

Sirius shook his head.

“I don’t need one. Love, we were young. It was so easy to buy into anything in those days. You had just lost your parents then James and Lily...you were grieving and not in the right state. When I got out of Azkaban, I wanted to come to you right away! I wanted to come to you and just see your beautiful face...but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to risk you being harmed and at the time I had no way to care for you the way that I am supposed to.”

You pressed your lips together feeling the tears beginning to well up again

“I think that was one reason why I have been so hostile. I was hurt that you didn’t come after me. I thought that you didn’t care.”

Sirius frowned before reaching out, wiping some of the tears away from your cheeks.

“Didn’t care? Sweetheart, I cared very much. I wanted to make sure that I had some way to take care of you properly...be the husband that you deserved.I also wanted to get my hands on Pettigrew. That kind of went to hell though.”

You smiled. Sirius had grown up! When all of this had happened, he was still your rebel bad boy. You had been the responsible one in the relationship while Sirius was still “having fun.”

You reached out kissing him again.

“Sirius, I want you to listen to me. We are going to get him. He’s going to suffer for what he did and you’ll truly be a free man.”

You let your lips linger near his as you spoke. Sirius’ dark eyes locked with yours. This was the first time that he really resembled the man that you loved so much. He could drive you crazy but you had missed that smile!

“As long as you know that I am innocent that is enough for me now.”

Sirius pulled you into the first long meaningful kiss that the two of you had shared in a long time. You winced when Sirius’ hand closed around your injured one. Sirius quickly snapped his eyes open and looked down at your bandaged hand.

“What happened?”

You shrugged.

“I kind of got hit with a curse. You should see the other guy. He definitely came off worse.”

Sirius shook his head.

“We’ll need to get something on it. I mean it when I said that I can take care of Harry and yourself. You don’t have to keep putting yourself in danger.”

You slowly sat up enough to straddle his lap.

“I have been putting myself in danger since we were kids. It's hard to turn that off, love.”

Sirius had to admit that you were right. Both of you had a habit of getting into dangerous hobbies and activities.

“At least think about it.I don’t want to lose you when I’ve just gotten you back.”

You smiled as he leaned down for another kiss.

“So when does the horny boy that used to make me late for class show up?”

Sirius chuckled.

“I suppose the same could be said for the girl that wanted it as much as I did. You’re such a pain in my dick and ass.”

You pushed Sirius on his back before leaning down.

“That’s why you are crazy about me.”

You quickly got out of bed leaving Sirius booking after you with a lust-filled expression. He lit a cigarette before leaning back.

“Your dirty boy is right here. You are the one that got up. I’ve still got it.”

You smirked.

“Oh darling, I’m sure you do but your godson is probably awake now. He goes back to school in a day. I think that you can keep it in your pants until then”

Sirius inhaled before standing up.

“Doesn't mean that I can’t kiss you all that I want. You promised me after all…”

He gave you that cocky little girl that melted your heart. Sirius knew how to use his looks to his advantage with you and clearly that didn’t change.

“Want to go piss my mother’s painting off a bit?”

You didn’t know exactly what he had planned but the idea was tempting. Even though the painting would just screech like a banshee maybe Walburga burning down in hell would get the message.

“Sirius Black, what are you doing?

He gave you an eyebrow wiggle before taking your hand and leading you down the hallway.

You could hear Walburga screaming as the two of you walked down the stairs. Sirius smirked as he moved the curtains away from the portrait. The moment that Walburga saw Sirius she started her whole your no son of mine and blood traitor lines. Sirius glanced back at you before holding out a hand.

“Mum, want to watch something?

Sirius quickly pulled you to him before titling you backward in some 1950’s style kiss. Walburga’s eyes almost popped out of her head as she started screeching louder and louder.

“This painting is getting out of control…”

Remus’ voice came from the kitchen and stopped the moment that he walked to the living room seeing you in Sirius’ arms. This was the last thing that he was expecting! The night before the two of you were barely talking now you were both kissing like the world was ending!

“I see the two of you are doing much better.”

Sirius almost dropped you hearing Remus’ voice for the first time He was in a world totally of his own. Sirius quickly lifted you back up before meeting his friend’s gaze.

“Yeah, Moony it sure looks that way.”

Remus sighed. Something told him that this was going to end badly. While part of him was more than happy to see his best friends back together; the sensible side said this needed to be approached slowly. Judging by the fact the two of you were making out in front of \Walburga’s photo so quickly...slow most likely wasn’t going to happen!

“Y/n, can I talk to Sirius alone for a moment?”

You glanced between the two knowing that this wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Remus, I think that I should stay...to moderate whatever is about to happen.”

Sirius patted your bottom before shaking his head.

“It's alright, love. Nothing is going to happen. I'll be in there with you shortly.”

You carefully looked between the two once more before turning and walking into the kitchen.

Sirius waited until you were out of the room before turning back to Remus.

“What?”

Remus sighed, shaking his head.

“The two of you need to slow down.”

Sirius rolled his eyes before lighting another cigarette.

“Remus, calm down and take off your mum apron. You act like Y/n and I have never been together. What is so wrong with the two of us wanting to be happy, huh?”

Remus crossed his arms over his chest.

“Nothing is wrong with it...I just think the two of you need to slow this down. The two of you aren’t the kids that you used to be.”

Sirius glanced over his shoulder.

“Y/n and I will be just fine. We were before and we will…”

Remus nodded.

“That’s right….before. You have both changed a lot from when the two of you were together last.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. What was Remus getting at? Where was this sudden hostility coming from?

“Remus, stay out of it.”

Sirius turned to walk after you. Remus was silent for a moment before deciding that he needed to speak up.

“And if she gets pregnant again? What happens if you get caught and hauled back to Azkaban? Are you really waiting to risk making Y/n a potential single mother again because you can’t keep your hands off of her? Sirius, I knew that she was pregnant before. She didn’t have to tell me. I figured it out and had to watch her suffer. I am sick of playing the dumb guy that is clueless to everything. Having another child won’t replace the one that was lost.”

Sirius was silent for a moment before turning back to his friend.

“Then don’t be the dumb guy.”

Sirius turned and left Remus alone in the living room with only Walburga Black’s screeching voice with company.

____

@lilulo-12

@hawkeyeharrington

@brokencasbutt67-writer

@authoressskr

@fandom-trash-worth-it

@hankypranky

@summer-novak

@shaylybaby2032

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

@shitfaceddaniel

@stuckinsaudi1

@mycuddlycorner

@sprnaturallover

@li0nh34rt

@wontlookaway

@marichromatic

@maggiolim

@emiwrites3reads

@knight-of-gleefulness

@deanwherescas

[foreverfangirlalways]

“Pseudo” Boyfriends (Chapter 3)

Chapter Title: Fake=Fucking Stupid

Summery: Patton learns about Pre-Birthday Prank War, and Patton and Virgil decide to figure out how to tell Janus that Patton likes him. (Well, Patton decides while Virgil struggles with the impaired judgement of his best friend)

Ships: Moceit, Analogical, CriticxSleep

Warning: stupidity, blatant ignorance, selective hearing

-let me know if I need to add more warnings-

(Thank you to my friend @kawaiikat54 for helping me with this fic!)

*Enjoy the fluff while it lasts...*

—-

It was around 8:30 when Janus opened his eyes and looked down at the person in his arms.

Patton had his arms wrapped around Janus and his face was alight in the morning sun. Janus yawned and Patton held on to Janus tighter.

Janus smiles and starts softly running his fingers through Patton’s hair. Janus always loved to do that, because to him, Patton’s hair is softer than silk.

Patton’s nose twitched the tiniest bit, and Janus place a delicate kiss on the top of it.

‘He looks so peaceful, like the dew on a flower petal in the early morning. His hair curls around my fingers like it’s reaching for me, like it’s trying to love me as much as I love him. His eyes are... open?”

Janus stops his Shakespearean monologue about how good Patton looks when he realizes that Patton is watching him stare at him. To avoid embarrassment, Janus just holds onto Patton tighter and burrows his face into Patton’s hair. “Your hair smells good.”

Janus pulled back and saw a dust of redness across Patton’s features. “Oh, it must be shampoo, Very Hairy Berry. Ain’t the name hairlarious?” Patton giggled, and Janus just shook his head fondly.

“You’re so adorable.”

Janus, realizing that he just said that aloud, looked at Patton. Patton just smiled a snuggled closer. Janus looked ecstatic.  

“No no sleepy head, no matter how adorable I find you, we still better get ready for breakfast.”

They get ready and go down, smiling and blushing the whole time. Once they entered the kitchen, everyone greeted them, and they sat upon the stools next to the island.

Remy is making eggs, and Critic looked to be making chocolate gravy for the biscuits. Virgil put a bowl of what looked like pudding on the island, and then kissed Logan on the cheek.

Patton grabbed a spoon and went for the pudding, but Logan placed his hand on Patton’s wrist before he could even get anything on the spoon.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-“

“No no, it is nothing of the sort Patton. Though the person who does eat it is going to hate Virgil for about a week.”

Remy and Critic snickered. Janus groaned.

“Tomorrow is prank day, isn’t it?”

Critic nods and turns to a confused Patton.

“It is tradition that on the eve of every person in this family’s birthday, there is a prank war. The winner of the war gets to smash a piece of cake in the birthday boys face. Or, if the birthday boy wins, he gets to choose a punishment for the entire group.”

Patton smiled and looked at everyone. “That sounds like a wonderful bonding experience! But how is the winner chosen?”

“Oh! I can answer that one babes! So, all day the participants will do their pranks, and then they will do one main prank on the person of their choice. On the main prank, you will record what happens and everyone will vote on the best prank after all the videos are presented right before cake time.

Patton happy clapped and Janus banged his head against the island.

“Don’t be happy Pat, it is absolutely torture!”

Virgil laughed at Janus’s actions. “Ignore him Patton, he’s just upset that he has never won.”

Janus stood up, knocking his chair over and pointed and Virgil threateningly.

“LIESSSS!”

Patton kissed Janus’s cheek. “Common Snakey, sit down and calm down. We need breakfast!”

Janus plopped down on Patton’s lap and buried his face in Patton’s shoulder. Everyone chuckled and sat down around the island.

“Sorry, was that to much?” Patton whispered in Janus ear.

“No. Well, maybe a bit much.” Janus whispered back.

They both huffed a laugh, oblivious to Virgil’s knowing gaze from hearing their words.

-_-_-_-

After breakfast, Logan asks Janus to help him with something. They left, and Patton walks towards Janus’s room, but Virgil drags Patton off to his room.

“Hey Virgil! What’s up?” Patton asked after Virgil shut the door. Virgil turned around and crossed his arms.

“So, you and Janus, huh?”

Patton sighed happily and fell onto Virgil’s bed.

“Yep! Can you believe it?”

Virgil blinked. “No. I literally cannot.”

“Haha,I couldn’t either at first. I mean I was shocked when I realized he really truly likes me!”

Virgil, deciding he has had enough of Patton’s bullshit, pulled out the big guns.

“Yeah. So, how long have y’all been pretending to be boyfriends?”

Patton blinks and then...

“HAHAHA WhAT dO yoU MeaN? thAts ReDicUlus!”

Virgin leans against the door and raises an eyebrow.

“Well, I was going to say this was a prank, but what the hell? That was about as convincing as that time when you said you didn’t like snakes while cuddling with a gaint plush snake.”

Patton stood up, and put a hand on his hip. “One, Janus got me that when we went to the Zoo. And two, how did you figure it out?”

“Ohh, other than the fact that there is literally no way y’all could have gotten together without you telling me or Logan?”

Patton nodded.

“And the fact that you have liked Janus forever?”

Nod.

“And the fact that you have gushed about him to me basically every night, but haven’t once since you got here?”

Nod

“And the fa-“

“Ok ok, I get it! Now what specifically gave it away?”

Virgil smirked. “I actually had no idea, but your reaction was perfect.”

Patton looked shocked, and then threw a pillow at Virgil.

“Calm down Patton, I had my suspicions but not definite proof.”

“So! You tricked me!”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Not really. Also, you already told me about your birthday story, and you said it was the first time he kissed you on the cheek. You gushed about it for hours, and then I had to deal with Janus telling me the story over again and him gushing while I had to pretend to act like I didn’t already know everything.”

Patton immediately brightened and jumped up and down. “Yes! Last night when he thought I was asleep, he said he wished that this was real. And what you just said confirms that he truly likes me! Now I just have to tell him that I feel the same!”

‘Huh. I wasn’t expecting that.’ Virgil though.

“Well, maybe today because tomorrow is prank day and that could be a bad misunderstanding.”

Patton had a look of realization pass over his face. “You’re right! I could tell him tomorrow with a prank!”

Virgil blinked, and took a step away from the door. “Wow, that is not what I said at all. That sounds like a terrible plan!”

Patton nodded. “It is a wonderful plan! I could make him one of those glitter tubes, and whenever he pops it open it will have a note that tells him I want to be his real boyfriend!”

“...Are you even listening to me? He could take that in the wrong way and think that you are just joking or playing with his feelings.”

“Of course I’m listening! He won’t think it is a joke because I will add a bunch of emojis on it!” Patton said, looking faintly offended at Virgil’s thought. “Oh? What type of emojis?”

“The laughing face ones!”

Virgil face palmed. “Oh my god. This... this is going to be awful.”

Patton waved his hands around. “Awfully fantastic! I’ll even give him a speech afterwards, telling him everything and how I’ve liked him since he punched my ex Ethan to protect me.”

‘Finally, something that makes sense.’

“Ok,” Virgil nods, “that’s actually a good idea. This could work.”

“Put since it’s prank day I’ll say everything the opposite way!”

Virgil blinked, and then threw his hands into the air. “Holy hell! This just keeps getting worse! Please don’t do that!”

Patton hugged Virgil then gripped his shoulders. “Thank you for your help Virgil! I’m gonna go start on my plan!”

Virgil watched Patton walk away, frozen in place and dumbfounded. He shook his head and took out the recorder in his pocket.

“Well, when shit hits the fan and Janus comes to murder me, at least I can give him this and make him see that Patton meant well. And was serious. Holy hell my friends are idiots that don’t listen!”

Gen Taglist-

@dragonwithproblems

@five-falseh00ds-ph0nated

@thefingergunsgirl

@kawaiikat54

@sanders-sides-with-quinn

@007ardra

@yikesdodson

@nerdycupcake559

@softestvirgil

@teacupfulofstarshine

@impatentpending

@star-crossed-shipper

@ravenivy2079

@rainbowemonightmare

@ladyartemisia28

@moose-boi

@resident-trash-goblin

@parx-boiiz

@ninathepancake

@kuroyurishion

@funkyfreshfatherfigure

@pattoncake-and-eyeshadow 

@drewwwbydoobydoo

@sure-i-exist

@sophiexteresa

Pseudo Tag-

@aricana8

[bingleycharles]

First off, I don’t spend a lot of time on tumblr any more, and this blog was mainly meant to be a reference blog for wuxia/xianxia genre, which has been my favorite genre for a long time. My main intention was to provide some information that might be helpful (I think MDZS becoming so popular so quickly due to the tv drama came a bit unexpected to us who have loved the novel for a long time) and not really engage much beyond that. But, the more time I spend here, the more I feel that some things need to be said.

There’s been a lot of talk about the MDZS novel dubcon/noncon elements and I definitely had no intention of engaging with that to any extent, but the mentality of this particular group of people (and I use that term generously because it’s mainly the mentality of extremely sheltered children) on tumblr is so unbelievably wild that someone needs to say something, and I guess that’s going to be me. I am going to warn people in advance, that I am going to make no attempts to be nice about this, because after some of the discussions I’ve seen recently, even if niceness was deserved, I certainly am no longer capable of it.

Now that the disclaimer is in place, let’s talk a bit about where this hatred for mxtx and her sex scenes comes from.

1. People who believe that nothing problematic should exist in fiction, because nothing problematic should exist in the world.

Sometimes, this is based on a simple inability to recognize how fiction and real world are not, in fact, the same thing, and this inability can be more commonly found among those too young to understand complex subjects (see great majority of the above children, who have already caused a great deal of damage to vulnerable communities by misusing and misrepresenting terms like pedophilia, incest, etc, etc). More often however, it is based on the inability to understand how real word and fiction are actually related, an inability that is unfortunately found among many people who should be considered adults. It is a fundamental misunderstanding of both, rooted in a belief that real world problems exist because they are normalized in fiction (but not all world problems because no one is trying to get rid of murder mysteries, just the icky problems they don’t actually wanna think about or do anything to solve, but would still like to never see again. All this while simultaneously getting to say “well, I’m against incest in fiction so that’s my contribution to the issue,” so they can then feel good about themselves).

This belief, by the way, that real world problems exist because they are normalized in fiction, has been proven as a false narrative many times, but like “Bible says all gay people are evil” or “climate change isn’t real” doctrines, it refuses to die even when faced with facts. “Fiction does not exist in a vacuum” they keep saying, as if those capable of critical thinking have not addressed this subject so many times, that you could practically walk your way across the Pacific Ocean on their responses alone. The real world problems do not exist because someone once wrote them down in a piece of fiction, and that should be abundantly clear to us all. Instead, problematic subjects exist in fiction precisely because they existed in the real world first, and we, the human beings, find writing things down to be one of the many ways we process information, problematic or otherwise.

There is also an insistence on seeing every piece of fiction as an instruction manual for “bad things,” and honestly, I don’t know what happens in these people’s heads, nor do I want to. Again, according to them, any underage fiction is an instructional manual for a possible pedophile, but tens of thousands of murder mysteries are just entertainment. If you read/write underage fiction, you must be a pedophile, but by the same logic, if you read/write bloody murder mysteries, this logic either doesn’t apply, or murder is just fine. So inevitably we go back to the fact that a lot of these issues are only raised by people who just don’t think anything they personally find “icky” should exist, and that’s rooted mostly in white privilege (and we’ll get to the white minority individuals later) and ethnocentricity (and we’ll get to that in a minute too). Basically, when I hear “people will learn that rape is okay from fiction,” I automatically think you’re either extremely immature or extremely ignorant, or both. Please take a psychology/sociology class or seven, throw in Moral Development 101 in the mix, and get back to me in like ten years, when we can both try and have an adult conversation. In the meantime, arguing against this is like arguing with climate change deniers. More likely to make me dumber than them smarter.  

In short, you will never be able to get rid of problematic fiction, because you will never make the world not problematic, nor will stopping the people who choose to reflect their problematic world in writing fiction accomplish absolutely anything, except them having no way to process their reality, and you being considered an immature child (which most people who think like this already are, so no news there, let’s move on).

2. They believe things are problematic because they believe that their particular experiences are common to everyone else. If they see it as problematic, then everyone else should to see it that way too.

This should be self-explanatory, and a thousand of these discussions have been held in the past, by people more eloquent than myself, about every subject from rape fantasies and bondage (go back a few years to 50 shades), to experiences that are unique to specific minority groups, like trans individuals, refugees, rape survivors, those with disabilities, multi-national and multi-racial individuals, and so on and so forth. Even among the hundreds and hundreds of these vulnerable groups of individuals, there are hundreds of different subgroups, whose experiences are all wildly different, wildly subjective, and all completely valid to them, regardless of how they differ.

None of us have the ability to understand each and every one of those unique experiences. At best, we may be able to somewhat understand a few people who have had similar experiences, but our opinions on a variety of subjects have been shaped by the smallest differences in those experiences, and are likely to never be exactly the same.

What I’m saying is this: the little white girl from Iowa, regardless of her minority status as disabled/lesbian/bi/queer female, will never understand what drives a young/disabled/queer/multiracial/2nd gen. immigrant girl, to write 55k of rape fantasy fiction between two multiracial men, and she doesn’t have to understand it. Neither her disability nor her queerness should give her a single iota of moral high ground over the other individual, or vice versa. Her personal understanding of what is morally right or wrong in fiction does not give her the right (nor should it ever) to pass judgment on anyone else’s experiences, or their method for processing those experiences. There is no sensitive way I can say this, so I’m not even gonna try. You don’t get to be automatically right because you’re gay, disabled, or a minority of any kind. Like, I know this is uncomfortable to hear, but people around here often use their status to invalidate others and to get them not to engage in any type of discussion that would prove their opinions wrong. I’m literally watching children on tumblr going, “I don’t need to know about oppression, I’m gay,” like holy shit. The only oppression you know is your own. That’s it. Please tone down the arrogance and realize you’re not alone in the world, minority or not.

I get that if you were raped, you may never want to see rape in fiction. But in the same vein, there exist people who were raped, and want to see rape in fiction. I get that you’re gay and offended by certain type of fiction, but there are also people who are gay and prefer the same type of fiction you find offensive. This is exactly when words like “pedophile” and “incest” get thrown around a lot, for things that in no way meet the definition. Because there is no factual or valid argument that exists here, and people are browbeating other people by saying “Well, I’m gay and oppressed and I just don’t like it so it has to be wrong.” But when the dissenter is also gay and oppressed, and you have to admit that based on the status you’ve used to validate yourself, you also have to admit that their opinion is as valid as yours, then the only fallback is to point a finger and say that there must be something wrong with them. “Well, your opinion is not valid because you read underage fiction so you’re a pedophile,” and this is literally what keeps happening over and over again.

At the root of all this is a twisted, sick belief, that those who process their issues and their problematic environments in the morally pure and acceptable way are the only valid voices in every community, and that everyone else’s experiences are immediately invalidated by default. It’s a pretty fucking gross rhetoric, and it’s been going on here on tumblr for a very long time now, but it’s only gotten worse, and it’s especially prevalent among the new influx of mdzs “fans.”

3. They believe things are problematic because their culture considers them problematic, and they have no concept of the fact that theirs is not the only culture in the world.

This is particularly nasty proclivity, commonly found in Western consumers of fiction. The Western audiences like to think themselves enlightened, despite the fact that most Eastern cultures have carpets in their government buildings older than the entire Western culture, system of law, morality codes, or their Constitutions. This is mostly true of U.S. in particular because their ethnocentrism keeps self-validating itself through ignorance, poor education, and other evils of capitalism. But it’s also true of other white European consumers of fiction, who have a long history of colonialism to thank for their continuous insistence that their morality is more enlightened than everyone else’s (oh, the irony of that). But not to go too far from the subject at hand, if I had a dollar every time a white girl from United States said “Ew, this rape scene this Chinese author wrote is really gross and I find it to be offensive to my entire existence,” I could pretty much overthrow the entire capitalist system that produced this ethnocentric fucking nonsense in the first place.

In short, there are many individuals in the West, who might be minorities in their general community, but have no concept or understanding of other cultures, other minority communities, or other individuals that have life experiences drastically different from their own, so they judge everything they see from their own perspective, because it is the only perspective they have, and unfortunately, it’s a pretty narrow one. There is an important lesson to be learned here, and it’s the one I’ve already mentioned above:

Being queer, or being any kind of a minority, does not automatically save you from being ignorant, being ethnocentric, being unable to understand other people’s experiences (minority or otherwise), and it most certainly does not mean that your queer culture is the only right queer culture in the world. If you doubt my words, I highly suggest consulting some native-Chinese male queer individuals, who have also read that rape scene by that Chinese author who has upset you so much that you can’t stop crying about it (although it wasn’t written for you, and you were under no obligation to read it), and maybe ask them what they think, since their opinion is the only one even close to being relevant to this particular conversation. I guarantee that their answers will shock and amaze you, and you may even learn a thing or two along the way.

(And if you immediate answer isn’t that their opinions will all be wildly different as well because them all being native-Chinese male queer individuals still doesn’t mean they’re all the same fucking person [because hello? China has 56 ethnic groups alone] and that each and every one of them is a unique individual with a unique perspective based on their particular upbringing, social environment, sexuality, etc, etc, then you’re fucking missing the point, please go back up to the beginning and try again).

In the end, the answer to never having to see anything that upsets you is pretty simple and straight forward. If it’s bothersome, do not engage. If you don’t understand something, if it seems alien to your experience, if your very existence feels utterly repulsed by it, consider the fact that it was probably not written for you in the first place, and simply remove yourself from its presence.

Do not assume that you know why it was written, do not assume it is a personal attack against your existence, do not assume that you understand (or ever could) the culture that gave it birth, the history that formed it, or the shared experiences of those who happen to like it. Do not assume that you are the authority on problematic when it comes to anyone else’s work except your own, because you are a unique individual, your moral beliefs and expectations are your own, and no one else is required to share them. The world does not have a common morality, and if it did, it certainly wouldn’t be a common morality of a white girl on fucking tumblr who isn’t gonna take an intercultural competence class unless she’s in her fourth year of college, and even then, the exact privilege that allowed her to take that class is gonna make it pretty unlikely that she’ll understand it. It’s a tough life I know, but you’ll get over it tolerably well I’m sure.

In the simplest words possible, please try and turn a mirror towards your own propensity to think that your viewpoint is superior to all others, quit making excuses that amount to your particular minority status somehow making you immune to rampant cultural ignorance, because it’s literally been centuries of this bullshit from white colonialists countries for the rest of the world, and everyone is pretty fucking sick of it.

People are simply asking you not to be a dick to other unique individuals on the sole basis of the fact that you are incapable of processing their world, their culture, or their experiences, in the same exact way that they have, and frankly, it’s really not a lot to ask.

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

Share a Lair 12 || Share Some Feeling

Max wanted to wait. He had been pretty clear about that much, though Charlotte wasn’t entirely sure that she understood his reasoning - she definitely knew that she had to respect his wishes. He wasn’t that smooth when it came to the ladies. He used to just throw himself right into hitting on them, but as he got older (and realized how corny he could be), that wasn’t an easy thing to allow himself to do. 

Plus, with his career, it was hard to focus on serious relationships, likewise, he wasn’t the type to try to have casual encounters very much. He was a romantic. He was the monogamous type. He aspired to have a family as big and as close as the one that he came from, and he realized that Charlotte might not want those things. In fact, he was almost certain that she did not… But, he also wanted to be with her for as long as he could. There was just something special about her. He knew it from the moment that he met her, even though he didn’t think that they would ever actually hit it off the way that they had. They seemed too different, to him, despite their similarities.

Before they ever started seeing each other, she had made some comments that gave him cause to worry a little bit, and for Max, worrying a little bit almost always snowballed. For instance, they’d been discussing grades in school and she mentioned Henry being a C-D student. Max was nonchalant about it. He, too, had been a C-D student, sometimes F, if he was particularly not giving one. Well, the judgement in her face was enough to make him feel like he had to explain himself, “I just didn’t really care about the grades, because I knew that I was smart enough to make anything work out for me and it’s not like I would’ve needed a certain GPA to be a supervillain… or a superhero. I’ve got superpowers and a high IQ. No public education or piece of paper was gonna make me any more valid when I became an adult.”

Her face didn’t really change, but she did wonder, “So, you’d be fine with your kids not pushing themselves to be the best wherever they were?”

“I wouldn’t push them to be anything that they didn’t feel like they were,” he said. “Kids need support in their identities, not societal coercion.”

“Okay,” she said, dismissively and ended the subject, but he couldn’t help but shake that he had just confessed to being fine with being mediocre to somebody who was very much focused on being and having the best.

Another example - Oyster casually mentioning how Max used to “really give it to those nerds” when they were in school. Max shook his head vigorously, but Oyster thought he was being bashful and proceeded to tell stories that Charlotte looked extremely put off to hear about, even though she said that she would expect stuff like that from somebody who was trying to be a bad boy. “I guess I just would have expected that someone trying to be the big bad would target big bads. I mean.. People that you consider nerds or dorks or whatever, they already have to be measured as socially inferior, but you felt the need to make them feel even worse and humiliate them. It’s definitely villainous. Thank God we didn’t go to school together. I was the nerdiest nerd in our class.” She seemed offended.

“I never would’ve done anything like that to you,” he said.

“Oh, good to know you consider me one of the good ones.” He didn’t want to say anything else for fear of making it worse. After that, she would casually make comments and jokes about his past as a “nerd terrorist.” SO… Max wasn’t positive that they would last, no matter how much he wanted them to.

His first girlfriend had broken up with him extremely suddenly, to him, and they hadn’t been exactly a fitting match either. He loved her, they were great together a lot of the time, and they had a good time… but, she eventually realized that he just wasn’t the one for him. It was the most painful heartache he had ever had at the time. It wasn’t something he wanted to necessarily repeat, therefore he was generally guarded with his emotions and careful with his choices. Charlotte made that hard for him.

The more time he spent around her, the more he wanted to dive in, with zero abandon. By the time they kissed, he knew that he was doomed. He was relieved that she didn’t want to be with him, at the time. It was bittersweet, because he knew he was hers. That he’d be hers even if she hadn’t eventually come around. When she did start to come around… he tried to reprogram himself.Just because they were different in a lot of ways didn’t mean that they wouldn’t last or that she would grow tired of him or decide that he wasn’t worth a long term commitment. She made that hard too. She was so aloof about certain things that he’d think she would be reserved about - like her comfort with the guys. She’d mentioned sleeping in the bed with them, mentioned walking around indecent, and well… while that was normal enough - sometimes you just had that with those you worked with, like a locker room comfort. But… he didn’t have any female friends that he felt that comfortable with, so he didn’t really understand it. He also didn’t want to judge her or come across as insecure. So, he was really just trying to bide his time to get over it, with regards to that portion of her lifestyle.

But, one of his biggest secret concerns was her interest in his superpowers. It sometimes came across as a little bit fetishizing. Now… He definitely wanted her to want him and he didn’t necessarily have a problem with her being drawn to his powers. They were an amazing part of him. But, he also didn’t want that to be the sole reason that she was so attracted to him. He wanted it to just be part of the package that she got with him, and he wanted to be sure about that.

So, while he was still mulling over the idea of them and their future together, as well as continually getting to know her as his partner, he chose to wait to take it further physically.

Charlotte, on the other hand was feeling a little bit rejected about it. She was a confident woman. She didn’t make decisions lightly, but when she made decisions, she always knew that she had made the best one for who she was at the time of the decision. She had decided to be with Max. She knew what she wanted, and he was one of those desires. He was a very well thought out goal and she was secure in herself for making the choice. But, whenever he would hold back or stop her from handling up on some pants party business, she couldn’t help but wonder what his issue was with being with her. They were very open, but she always felt like he was kind of secretive about this thing. “I just don’t feel like we’ve reached that point, yet,” he told her and when she asked what would make him feel like they have, he only said, “More time and consideration.” So.. she read that as him not wanting her like that. It was oddly infuriating, but she knew that she had no right to be mad, and she didn’t want to be mad. But… why didn’t he want her though? He spent so long wanting to be with her and now, she was all in and he was… restrained.

She had decided to stop going out, stop meeting men, stop kicking it with the men that she knew a little better than casually, whenever she realized that she was interested in Max. While she wasn’t necessarily a trollop, she could definitely identify as a minx, sometimes.

She and her ex broke up a little bit before Henry applied to Share-a-Lair. They had been together for almost 5 years, the first couple long distance, the next couple on and off, and in that last year that they were together, he became a little restless. He didn’t understand why she wouldn’t come on tour with him (he was an international music superstar). He didn’t understand why she didn’t seem to want to be with him more, because high school was over, she was almost done with college, and she didn’t have any prospects for work or anything. He just wanted her to spend more time with him and for them to experience more of his fortunate life and extravagant lifestyle with him than just summers and sometimes breaks…

So, Charlotte made the mature decision to set him free and remain friends. They… talked a lot less, but she would see him living what seemed like his best life without her. It was bittersweet. Every now and then , he’d text something amazing and tell her, “Wish you were here. This would be perfect with you.” He was absolute wonderful, but she knew that a lot of his time had already been spent on her and now that he was a fully grown man; she couldn’t ask him to standby and wait. She might never be ready and the world was his oyster. She bowed out, threw herself into Henry/work, and began to see other men, casually on her weekends and such.

However, from the first time that Max said that she was cute, she didn’t realize it at the time, but she stopped going out as much. If a guy that she’d spent time with hit her up with the WYD, she’d either decline from seeing them, or not even remember to reply. Max was into her system before she really acknowledged it.

One time, Max commented, “You know that Jack Swagger is coming through here for a tour - do you wanna try to get tickets?” Charlotte tilted her head in confusion. They hadn’t discussed this, so she was unsure if this was his way of fishing for information. He noticed her hesitation and said, “Jasper makes comments calling him “ya boy,” so I presumed that you were a fan, but now I’m guessing that he’s being ironic when he does that?” Now, she sighed and laughed a little.

“No. I am a fan. It’s just that Jack and I used to hang out, so I didn’t know if you knew that and were being facetious, or worse… weird about it.”

“Why would I be weird about… WAIT - You and Jack Swagger used to hang out? When?”

“Like… before he got famous, and for a while afterwards. We really only stopped in the last maybe year and a half.”

“I once hung out with Cheyenne briefly. I mean… that’s an exaggeration. I scammed to get close to her and got busted,” he laughed. “So, are you still on good terms with him? Because, truth be told, his ticket prices are outrageous.”

She laughed too now and said, “As it stands, I don’t have to pay for tickets to his shows, but I don’t know if I’d bring another man. That might get us into an uncomfortable area.” Max was confused. Damn, did Jack Swagger have a crush on her too? She expounded, “I was supposed to take a gap year after high school and go on his European tour with him, but after planning to for a while, I backed out and told him that I just couldn’t. I think that was the beginning of the end, to be honest. But… he did let me design all his wardrobe for it, so in a way it was like he took a piece of me with him, and now, I get to charge people CRAZY prices to slash and alter jeans every now and then whenever I need some side cash.” She laughed and said, “I actually paid for my car by designing a dress for Cheyenne, so small world.”

Max was frozen in the same weird smile that he’d had for a while. It was like he was in shock, but then realized something, and then he looked like he was hit in the gut. “So… You used to hang out with Jack Swagger,” he said. It was emotionless, but he looked bothered.

“I’m sure you’ve hung out with plenty of women before you met me.”

“I wouldn’t say plenty, and I certainly wasn’t ‘take a gap year to travel the world with them’ hanging out. When I hung out with someone, it was mostly just that.” He sat down. “How long were you together?” He shook his head, “Nevermind. It’s your past. It’s none of my business. Then again - you still get free tickets, but it would be uncomfortable if you brought your boyfriend…”

“I wouldn’t bring you there on a free ticket. I’d pay for it!” She said.

“Yeah, but…Does he still love you?”

“We’re still friends.” She didn’t say no. “We’ll most likely always be friends, unlike the guys that I saw in between then and now. So… please, don’t make this an issue.”

He smiled. She could tell he was still bothered, “I won’t.” And he didn’t. But, it was still on his mind and made him even less secure about them physically. Jack Swagger… That dude had to have been able to land any woman in the world and if he was still hung up on her, like… what made him that way? Could he even satisfy her?

So, Charlotte simply moved at his pace - which was almost not moving at all. He was definitely affectionate. He loved snuggling with her and he could kiss her for hours without regret, if she’d let him. But, when she decided to press forward and see how far he would allow her to move forward. He usually didn’t stop her, but she could tell when she was making him uncomfortable and she would stop herself. Affirmative consent mattered and his last communication was that he wanted to wait. After a while, she gave up. Her shoulders slumped and her sigh was harder than she meant. “Are you okay?” He wondered.

She nodded her head, but said, “I think I ought to go home tonight.”

“Tonight? We have plans tomorrow.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow. I just think I should sleep in my own bed tonight.”

His eyes dropped and looked off to the side. They were silent a moment, then she started to get up. “Charlotte… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said. She meant that. He had no reason to be sorry, just like she had no right to be upset.

“I didn’t tell you that we had to stop. I just… wasn’t sure what to do next. I don’t know what my limits are. I didn’t mean to clam up like that.”

“You don’t have to explain anything, Max. I’m not entitled to your body or your physical attraction.” She looked like she was far from okay. She looked super hurt and now, he was upset with himself.

“You think that I’m not attracted to you?” He wondered.

She shrugged her shoulders, “You see something in me, but I really don’t feel like getting into this. I’m gonna go home, handle this and go to sleep.” She looked like she might cry, but she wasn’t going to. Hell no. Not in front of him, and not about something so… she wanted to consider it superficial, but she couldn’t. Not with how she felt.

“You’re the most attractive person that I have ever seen. That’s not what my problem is…”

“Then what is it, Dude? Why don’t you want me?” She silently cussed at herself. She didn’t mean to ask that or to use that tone.

“I do want you. So, so bad. I just… Don’t really know if I can be what you want, and I guess that I wanted to stay super in your mind for a little bit longer. But, if it’s making you feel like this…”

“The last thing anybody wants is to feel like you feel obligated.” They were both silent again. She sighed and sat back down. “I don’t want you to feel pressured by me. I just don’t understand why you’re so reluctant to share yourself with me, but you don’t owe me that.”

“Did you hear what I said?” He asked. “I’m trying to tell you that I’ve never done this before. But, I shouldn’t let that stop me. I shouldn’t make you feel bad because I’m scared to fail you…” He threw his head back. “I didn’t mean to make you feel rejected. I’ve wanted you since I first met you, and I still want you. Of course I do. How could I not? But, you’re like… super hot and I’ve realized that you’ve probably got expectations and desires that I’m not gonna be able to just meet. I hate things that I don’t know that I’m good at. This Is too important.”

She stared at him, “Wait. So… you’ve never hung out with anybody and now you think that you’re gonna let me down?” He didn’t want to agree to that, specifically. Luckily, she moved on, with a smile, “You… do know that I could just tell you what I like, and you could tell me what you’re interested in trying, right? I mean.. You know that everybody, including me, generally had to figure out from experience what works for us.”

“Yeah, but you’ve figured it out and I’ve barely explored it. And I’m older than you. It’s a little bit…”

“Unexpected, sure,” she said cutting off whatever self deprecating  description he might be thinking. “Max, I don’t think that anybody would ever expect somebody as good looking and well made as you to have waited. But, also, that makes me feel so much better than thinking that it’s just me you’re holding back with. It’s cool. Thank you for telling me. I understand now and I don’t feel so disappointed. There are other things that can be done while I wait, but that uncertainty was what was really messing with me.”

“Will you stay tonight?” He asked, gently.

“Yeah.”

“I think I’m ready for… more…”

She studied him a moment, to ascertain if he was just saying that or not. He seemed genuine. Maybe. She would simply try to see how far he would let her go without discomfort and this time, she wouldn’t have to wrestle any feelings of doubt if he hesitated. She would always stop, but now she would know exactly why she had to.

.

A/N: In this particular story/chapter, there’s a few things in Max’s personality/lifestyle that some of you may be wondering why I decided on them. What I’m talking about is his sexual history, or lack thereof. The reason that I decided to go this way with Max’s sexuality/experience is actually derived from a few small things that I picked up from watching The Thundermans.

Max’s pickup lines were not the ones of someone who knows how to play the field. I know for a fact that even with his looks, if some dude said some of that mess to me out in the real world, I’m clowning him, and I want to dare to hope that y’all would at least not dignify his methods with interest in him. So, I’m voting on he can’t really get casual encounters with women in his “league,” generally.

But, I am betting that he wouldn’t be very interested in casual encounters either. We saw him have a few hard crushes before his canon girlfriend, and usually the case was that he somehow got a date with these girls, but was bending over backwards to impress them (serving me desperation teas, but also showing me that in his youth, he was willing to work hard for a girl he liked, even when he wasn’t going to be with her for a while), and that kind of “give it my all” mentality is usually for the folk who want a relationship to have some endurance.

Even villain Max, when he had the first crush we see him having - he envisions a woman at his side in his dominion, as his partner, ruling with him. He doesn’t seem to want to use his power to acquire a lot of girls, and his shyness around a few of the girls he’s liked makes me think that he would be awkward with a woman that he doesn’t fully know and trust with himself.

His nightmare about Allison kissing another dude in a play then deciding to marry him indicates to me that he mentally has a strong connection between physical exchange and commitment. That his brain would jump from a kiss to getting married tells us more about how he thinks about relationships than his fear in that episode.

Allison kissed him first. I know, he was young and that was his first girlfriend, but I think it also shows that within his personality, while kissing was something he obviously enjoyed, because he was engaged as soon as it happened, it wasn’t something he went after.

In short, in my opinion, Max Thunderman is a physically conservative man who reserves sexual intimacy for meaningful relationships and that he also seeks out genuine partnership for those purposes. Even though he wanted to be in a band to get girls, I think he wanted the attention of girls, but ultimately that he just wants to be able to have and to hold one really special woman and to hold on to her for a long time.

If it’s a reach, it’s a reach, but that was my reasoning for his style in this chapter.

[trvelyans-archive]

There’s a woman at the end of the bar who won’t stop staring at Arthur.

At first, he thought maybe Colm sent her, but she doesn’t look like his type of woman. She’s a little too American for that bastard’s tastes. Then Arthur thought that maybe the bartender called her over to keep an eye on him, which he couldn’t blame the man for, really, considering the trouble he’s caused here lately. But it doesn’t seem like she’s watchin’ him for either of those reasons, really. If she was, she probably woulda made some sort of move sooner. She’s just… sittin’ there, with her eyes trained on him like he’s a Goddamn Christmas hog she’s gonna shoot and cook for dinner.

She’s pretty, too. He doesn’t much like that.

He downs his finger of whiskey with his left hand, his right hovering against the gun in his holster. (It’s a new one – pulled it off the body of some O’Driscoll he shot dead in the middle of the Heartlands the other night.) Not that he thinks she’s gonna shoot his head off, mind you, but it never hurts to be prepared around these parts, especially when he’s a couple of drinks into his evening already. It’s not doin’ much to help his pounding headache – being around that jackass Micah Bell for too long would do that to a man – but he’d rather sit here by his lonesome and wallow in his pain for a little while than be back at camp arguing with Dutch about… well, he’s sure they’d find something.

Seems all they do nowadays is argue. Or talk in a way that makes them feel like they’re not arguing when they really are.

He lowers his face to the tabletop, examining the cigarette cards he’s laid out to take a good look at, but out of the corner of his eye he can still see that woman watching him. She looks about twenty-five – might look older if he saw her in the sun when he was sober – and she has warm brown hair pulled into two braids on either side of her head, messy like she’d done them herself without a mirror (which he knows very well to be difficult, because Mary-Beth complains about it often when she begs Arthur to let her use his). She’s pale, too, with a face full of freckles and a handful of moles, and she’s got dark eyes like bullet holes, still pointed in his direction.

When she raises her arm, he half expects to hear a gunshot ring through the air, but she just gestures her cup towards him and takes a sip.

That’s when he realizes he’s been lookin’ too long, and perhaps that he’s drunk much more than he thought he did.

Unfortunately for him, even after shaking his head and forcing his attention back to the cards on the table, it’s only a couple seconds ‘til the seat across from him is pulled out and the woman sits down across from him. “Thought maybe you didn’t see me,” she says, placing her cup – empty – in front of his cards.

“Hard not to,” he replies, forcing himself not to meet her eyes. “Can’t quite ignore you when you’ve spent the past hour starin’ at me.”

“So you noticed.” She smiles. “Why didn’t’cha come up and say anythin’?” she asks, leaning forward to make sure he can see her.

He does lift his head up at that, though. “I, uh… didn’t think that’s what you’d wanted,” he replies, clearing his throat and reaching forward to grab one of the cards between two of his fingers, flipping it over to take a look at the writing on the back. “Thought maybe you were just waitin’ for me to cause some trouble and kick me out, and I didn’t intend on causin’ any sort of trouble tonight.”

“Mmm… A shame, that.”

He holds the card up higher, hoping it might hide some of the newfound heat rising on his cheeks.

“I’m Mabel.” She holds her right hand out to him from across the table, forcing him to put the card down so he can see her still smiling the same darlin’ smile. “Mabel Olsen. And your name is…”

“Arthur,” he replies before he can think better of it. “Arthur Morgan.”

“Arthur Morgan.” She clicks her tongue against the top of her teeth like she’s tasting the sound of his name in her mouth. “I like it.”

“Well, thank you,” he replies. “Can’t quite take all the credit for it, though.”

She laughs, leaning back in her chair and glancing around the room. Up close she looks just about the same as she did from the bar, but now he notices a couple of scars littered across her hands and shoulders, and her voice sounds much deeper than he thought it would. So she’s definitely older than twenty – twenty-five still seems like a good guess.

She’s definitely not as old as he is.

“What’re you doin’ in town tonight, Arthur Morgan?”

Hopefully nothing, he wants to say. It’s been a crazy couple of weeks, after all – months, even, when he thinks about it. First, having to ride out of Blackwater with the whole gang after the ferry job went wrong, then hidin’ out in the mountains and freezing half to death every night, and now, after meeting those jackasses Milton and what’s-his-name when he was out with fishing with Jack last week, it seems like Arthur can’t quite catch a break at all nowadays without someone shooting at him or yelling at him to clean up someone else’s mess every hour or so.

He can’t tell her any of that, though. He doesn’t want to scare her off, even if she is interrupting his carefully made plans for a boring evening. Might be nice to keep her around and talk to her for a little while.

So, instead, he flattens one of his hands against the table, fiddling with his belt buckle underneath the table with the other. “Drinkin’,” he replies. “Lookin’ at these. You?”

“Drinkin’,” she responded. “Lookin’ at you.”

He’s lucky he finished his last drink before she came over. If he had been drinking when she said that, he would’ve choked on his whiskey. Even now, he just about chokes on thin air.

“What’s so special about these?” she questions suddenly, pushing herself up from her chair and bracing one of her arms against the table to lean on it. “Aren’t these just cigarette cards?”

“Well, yes, but…” He clears his throat, scrubbing a hand against his beard. “I like collectin’ them, I guess.”

She doesn’t say anything for a couple seconds. When she does, her voice is much quieter. “Used to know someone who liked collectin’ ‘em, too.” And then she smiles at him again. “He liked the famous gunslinger ones, though he couldn’t’a been less of a gunslinger himself if he tried. Which ones do you like?”

Arthur thinks about it for a moment. “I like the ones with all the animals on them,” he says, grabbing one and pushing it towards her. “And the horses.”

“The horses,” she repeats, then cocks her head at him and squints like she’s giving him a thorough inspections. “Are you a cowboy, Arthur Morgan?”

“You could say that,” he responds, finally smiling back at her.

“Do you collect anything else?”

He inhales deeply, pursing his lips as he thinks. “Don’t know if I mean to so much as I end up doing it accidentally,” he answers. His bag is full of little bits and pieces of things he picks up – feels like he can’t walk two steps without finding something that catches his eye. “But sure, I collect plenty of things. And I have a journal, too.”

He didn’t mean to say that – he normally doesn’t like to talk about his journal with people, because then they always ask to see it, and it’s much more boring and personal than they think it’s going to be if he does show them or they get offended when he doesn’t. “A journal,” she echoes. “’s funny. You look like some rough-and-tumble outlaw, but you got a soft side to you. I can tell already, if you collectin’ cigarette cards and writin’ in a journal wasn’t enough.”

“I guess,” he grumbles good-naturedly, lowering his head to look at his cards again. “Do you collect anything, Miss Olsen?”

She laughs. “Oh, don’t call me that, Arthur,” she says. “My mother would never stop rollin’ in her grave if you did. Mabel is fine. And no, I don’t. Don’t see much point in it.”

“Guess that’s true.”

“Might change my mind now, though.”

He clears his throat and forces himself to look around, to look at anywhere that isn’t her smiling face.

The bar is nowhere near full, even at this time of night in this nice weather. (Though maybe that’s why – some of the folk in Valentine might be out enjoyin’ it.) Mabel’s old seat near the bartender is still empty. She could go back to it, if she wanted to, or move to a table to talk to someone else, but she doesn’t. Instead she keeps sitting across from him, watching him, running a finger around the rim of her glass with the tip of her tongue sticking out between her bared teeth, like a wolf waiting to pounce.

“So what made you come over here?” he asks eventually, letting himself look at her again.

She shrugs. “Thought you looked interestin’,” she answers, “and you certainly are. Although I like just about any man that doesn’t offer to fuck me before he even buys me a God damn drink.”

Arthur clenches his jaw. He doesn’t know what to say to that, but now his mind is definitely beginning to fill with somewhat indecent thoughts he’d rather not dwell on.

“And I thought it’d be nice to talk to someone. Thought you’d actually want to talk to me.”

He frowns. “What’s that mean?”

She shrugs again. “Don’t quite know,” she says. “Just… thought we’d get along. Most people don’t like talkin’ to me after a little while, probably ‘cuz I like being a pain in the ass.”

He didn’t consider her to be a pain in the ass at all, and if there’s something that Arthur Morgan hates more than suckin’ snake venom out of another man’s leg and runnin’ out of bullets in the middle of a gunfight, it’s people – like God damn Micah Bell - who are a pain in the ass. So he chuckles, hopin’ it might make her feel better. “Believe me, I’ve talked to much worse.”

Mabel smiles back, to no surprise, but she seems to stiffen a little as he watches her. “Anyway, if you’re askin’ because you want me to leave you alone –“

“Hey, now, did I say that?”

That gives her pause. “No, I guess I just…” She purses her lips. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?” she finally says.

“Can’t much say the same for you,” he teases.

“Chicken shit.” She grins at him. “Now who’s being a pain in the ass? You stay here, file all your little cigarette cards away in your bag next to your... I dunno... hairbrush and mirror and hair pomade, and I’ll go get us some more drinks. You look like a whiskey man, Arthur. Are you a whiskey man?”

He furrows his eyebrows. “Hang on, I can pay –“

Before he can finish, she pulls a heavy sack of what he assumes to be money from her bag and hefts it onto the table, where it lands with a loud thud. “Please,” she says, “let me.”

Arthur stares at it for a second and then looks up at her. “Maybe you are full of surprises.”

“Oh, I certainly am.” She stands up and rifles through the bag, completely ignoring the other patrons in the bar staring at them as she pulls a couple of bills from a stack. “Get a few more drinks in me and I’ll have even more surprises to show you, then.”

Before she heads off to the bar, she looks over her shoulder and gives him a playful wink that just about knocks the air out of his lungs, and all of a sudden Arthur is very, very glad that he isn’t going to have a boring night.

[vorefluff]

Jello

This story has the V.ore thing in it. And some foodplay but it’s just jello. Es a fluff story. Very safe.  1600-ish words

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

John wanders out of his room, rubbing his eyes. Most the time it was fine, but sometimes losing the ability to focus on anything really bothered him. He used to be able to read for a solid ten or eleven hours straight, even skipping meals. Not that it was a good habit, of course. Now he was lucky to be able to read for even close to two hours at a time before his brain felt fried.

Coming down the hall, he notices something that makes him stop. 

“Is that blacklight?” he asks, bewildered. 

A little ‘mhmm’ of confirmation sounds from the dining room. Peeking over, John sees Raknu sitting at the table, munching on what looked like glowing goo. A normal lightbulb sits on the counter.

“Are we throwing a party or something? I’m pretty sure that’s against the rules.”

“No. I don’t think I ever would either. Parties seem… invasive, when hosted at your own home.”

“Then why…?” 

“I felt like it,” Raknu answers simply, taking another bite of… jello was that? Glowing green jello that looks rather radioactive. 

“What’s that?” John says, coming closer and gesturing to the back of Raknu’s hand, which had a big glowing spot on it. 

Raknu shrugs. 

“Can I have some of the glowey food stuff?”

“There’s a portion for you and Gryphon in the fridge.”

“Why didn’t you say that sooner?” John says, making a beeline for the fridge. 

“I was hoping you wouldn’t ask, so I could have it.”

John snorts and pulls out one of the two containers of the jello. He bumps the silverware drawer closed with his hip as he makes his way to the table to join Raknu. John considers the dish for a moment, then digs out a small spoonful to put into Raknu’s bowl. Raknu’s face lights up and he smiles, happy to see the little extra jello. 

If John’s being honest, he felt more like playing with the glowing green goo than actually eating it. The thought crosses his mind to spread it out on the table, shrink down, and pretend to die of radiation poisoning in the radioactive wasteland. 

Then again, it’s pretty dangerous being small-sized around Raknu. At least, that’s what the very intense dramatic emotional part of his brain says - that he’ll 100% get eaten with that jello if he shrinks down to play with it. Although logically, he knows that Raknu is much more of a gentleman than that and would have the decency to ask first and let him decline. 

John’s eyes drift to Raknu’s midsection. Eh. Better not risk it.

Raknu raises an eyebrow at him, catching where John is looking. “If you want to see, you just have to ask,” he says, putting a hand over his stomach.

“Nope. No thanks,” John says, tearing his gaze back to his jello and taking his first bite. “It’s really good. Did you put extra sugar in this?”

Raknu nods. John finds himself watching Raknu’s throat as he swallows. 

Nope, not thinking about that right now. Now is the time to eat jello. Or play with the jello. It looks fun to poke at and jiggle. Or enjoy the blacklight. It’s doubtful that it’s going to stay up for long, and it’s fun to play around with.  

The more he tries not to think about The Thing, the more it rudely shoves it’s way to the front of his mind. Reverse psychology? Ehhhh. Not gonna try it. Maybe just a focus shift instead of a complete change? He thinks of his own guts filled with the radioactive jello instead and snickers, finally able to eat the green treat in peace.

“Are you going to share the joke?” 

“Nope.”

Raknu shrugs and brings his empty bowl to the kitchen, washing it out and putting it on the drying rack. John gets an idea, and leaves a few bites of the stuff, heading to the kitchen with it to find a lid and put it back in the fridge. 

“Are you going to finish that?” Raknu asks, peeking at John’s bowl. 

“You’re not allowed to have it.”

Raknu sighs dramatically. As he leaves the kitchen, John catches Raknu licking the glowing spot on the back of his hand, which confuses him even more. 

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

“Hey Blaze, would ya be willin’ to risk possibly maybe getting sick for a video?”

Blaze looks up at the spellcaster distrustfully. “Why?”

“Because I have an idea.”

“What idea?” 

“We have glow in the dark jello that lowkey looks radioactive and would make for a great aesthetic.” 

Blaze looks uncertain.

“Please?” 

He fidgets, looking elsewhere. 

“You don’t have to, that’s cool too.” 

“I… guess I could do it,” Blaze says, crossing his arms over his midsection. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, now go away before I change my mind.”

“That’s the whole point of staying to double check though. If you would change your mind then it’s not proper consent and I’d just be peer pressuring you into it which ain’t cool.”

Blaze grumbles. 

“What was that? I didn’t catch it.” 

“Go away and I won’t change my mind.” 

“Does that mean if I stay you will change your mind?”

“No! That’s not what I meant! I’ll do it! Now go away! Fuck off!” Blaze says, exasperated.  

John clasps his hands together and points at Blaze with both index fingers. “Now are you saying you’ll do it just to get me to go away or-”

“John I swear to the devil I will tear your face off.”

John snickers and holds up his hands. “Alright, alright, I’m going,” he says, backing out the door.

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

Blaze pokes at the jello distrustfully, watching it jiggle in the blacklight. "It looks like it's going to possess me and melt me from the inside out."

A small John clambers over Blaze's hand and onto the jello. He digs out a small piece and munches on it. It's a bit disappointing, because even though it looks massive, the only little bit that he can fit in his mouth feels as small as a crumb. 

He drops the rest of his handful and stands up, his arms straight out in front of him like one of the undead in one of those horror movies. "Ohhhhhh nooooooo I've been possessed. I'm melllltinnnn- IPE-" John yelps, flailing as his foot breaks through the surface of the jello.

Blaze snickers and picks the little man up, carefully setting him aside. John shakes jello off his foot and glances up at the clock. 

"We should get started,"

"...Jello first?"

John nods. "Yup yup."

Blaze picks up the bowl and takes a bite, his face immediately screwing up with disgust. John watches his throat as he swallows. 

"Is that the face you make when you eat me?"

"No, that face is worse. You're gross."

"I'm offended. I should taste like Skittles."

"...Skittles?"

"Because I'm gay."

Blaze looks even more confused as he takes another large bite of jello.

John sighs. "Taste the rainbow?"

Finally Blaze's face lights up in understanding. "Oh! Gay!"

"There we go."

Blaze glowers as he eats the third and final bite of jello. John puts on his oxygen mask and waits for Blaze's hand. Blaze hesitates a moment before offering it, but as soon as it's there, John climbs on. It’s sorta fun, being this small. There’s definitely perks, like being able to be picked up and carried like a little bird. Probably best not to jump and try to fly though. Or be dropped. 

“Good to go?” Blaze asks.

“Yup yup.”

"Alright. Down the hatch, I guess," Blaze mumbles and sighs, opening his mouth for John.

The little spellworker climbs in with a practiced ease, still a bit wary of Blaze's teeth. John clicks on his blacklight flashlight, shining it around at the glowing residue. It sorta looks cool. Mostly weird though. Blaze swallows, pulling John's legs into his throat. Another one had him up to his shoulders, and with a third he was completely gone, pulled into the heartbeat-less flesh. Despite how many times they had done this, John still got distracted and fascinated by the sound of lungs and a few other internal organs working around them working around him. There were little bits of green leaving a trail down Blaze's throat.

John falls into the vampire's stomach. He snickers at hearing a little welcoming growl from around him while Blaze shifts uncomfortably. He muses about whether or not guts have a mind of their own, or whether it's just some subconscious thought. People talk to their stomach frequently as if it's a different person, or at least think the words even if they don't say it out loud. Like, 'I know you're hungry but settle down, we will have food in half an hour' or 'I just ate, why are you still growling at me'. If a stomach is a separate mind, then can someone reincarnated as one? Not another human, just the guts of a human. The idea is sorta funny to think about.

John leans into the walls heavily. It’s a habit he’s picked up recently, although he can’t tell if it’s supposed to be affectionate or just to annoy Blaze. 

He shines a blacklight on the area, looking at what he had to work with. The jello looked kinda like a bunch of semi-transparent glowing rocks on an alien planet. At least, they did when they weren't sliding and bouncing from the constant little movements from Blaze and his guts.  John pushes one of the jello chunks, sending it sliding across the flesh room.

He pulls his camera from one of his belt pouches. This might actually be cooler than he expected. Or at the very least, be more amusing than it had any right to be.

[neshabeingchildish]

Share Some Feeling

I am not sure who’s reading this still. I know I’m stepping into long story territory with this one and I hope to be able to cut it off soon, as I’ve estimated that this is around where readers just fall off completely from a story and I don’t want to drag too much longer than the demand. But, if you’re still reading, I hope you’re enjoying it and I thank you for letting me go on this long with this.

Share-a-Lair 12

Max wanted to wait. He had been pretty clear about that much, though Charlotte wasn’t entirely sure that she understood his reasoning - she definitely knew that she had to respect his wishes. He wasn’t that smooth when it came to the ladies. He used to just throw himself right into hitting on them, but as he got older (and realized how corny he could be), that wasn’t an easy thing to allow himself to do. Plus, with his career, it was hard to focus on serious relationships, likewise, he wasn’t the type to try to have casual encounters very much. He was a romantic. He was the monogamous type. He aspired to have a family as big and as close as the one that he came from, and he realized that Charlotte might not want those things. In fact, he was almost certain that she did not… But, he also wanted to be with her for as long as he could. There was just something special about her. He knew it from the moment that he met her, even though he didn’t think that they would ever actually hit it off the way that they had. They seemed too different, to him, despite their similarities. 

Before they ever started seeing each other, she had made some comments that gave him cause to worry a little bit, and for Max, worrying a little bit almost always snowballed. For instance, they’d been discussing grades in school and she mentioned Henry being a C-D student. Max was nonchalant about it. He, too, had been a C-D student, sometimes F, if he was particularly not giving one. Well, the judgement in her face was enough to make him feel like he had to explain himself, “I just didn’t really care about the grades, because I knew that I was smart enough to make anything work out for me and it’s not like I would’ve needed a certain GPA to be a supervillain… or a superhero. I’ve got superpowers and a high IQ. No public education or piece of paper was gonna make me any more valid when I became an adult.” 

Her face didn’t really change, but she did wonder, “So, you’d be fine with your kids not pushing themselves to be the best wherever they were?”

“I wouldn’t push them to be anything that they didn’t feel like they were,” he said. “Kids need support in their identities, not societal coercion.”

“Okay,” she said, dismissively and ended the subject, but he couldn’t help but shake that he had just confessed to being fine with being mediocre to somebody who was very much focused on being and having the best.

Another example - Oyster casually mentioning how Max used to “really give it to those nerds” when they were in school. Max shook his head vigorously, but Oyster thought he was being bashful and proceeded to tell stories that Charlotte looked extremely put off to hear about, even though she said that she would expect stuff like that from somebody who was trying to be a bad boy. “I guess I just would have expected that someone trying to be the big bad would target big bads. I mean.. People that you consider nerds or dorks or whatever, they already have to be measured as socially inferior, but you felt the need to make them feel even worse and humiliate them. It’s definitely villainous. Thank God we didn’t go to school together. I was the nerdiest nerd in our class.” She seemed offended. 

“I never would’ve done anything like that to you,” he said.

“Oh, good to know you consider me one of the good ones.” He didn’t want to say anything else for fear of making it worse. After that, she would casually make comments and jokes about his past as a “nerd terrorist.” SO… Max wasn’t positive that they would last, no matter how much he wanted them to.

His first girlfriend had broken up with him extremely suddenly, to him, and they hadn’t been exactly a fitting match either. He loved her, they were great together a lot of the time, and they had a good time… but, she eventually realized that he just wasn’t the one for him. It was the most painful heartache he had ever had at the time. It wasn’t something he wanted to necessarily repeat, therefore he was generally guarded with his emotions and careful with his choices. Charlotte made that hard for him. 

The more time he spent around her, the more he wanted to dive in, with zero abandon. By the time they kissed, he knew that he was doomed. He was relieved that she didn’t want to be with him, at the time. It was bittersweet, because he knew he was hers. That he’d be hers even if she hadn’t eventually come around. When she did start to come around… he tried to reprogram himself.Just because they were different in a lot of ways didn’t mean that they wouldn’t last or that she would grow tired of him or decide that he wasn’t worth a long term commitment. She made that hard too. She was so aloof about certain things that he’d think she would be reserved about - like her comfort with the guys. She’d mentioned sleeping in the bed with them, mentioned walking around indecent, and well… while that was normal enough - sometimes you just had that with those you worked with, like a locker room comfort. But… he didn’t have any female friends that he felt that comfortable with, so he didn’t really understand it. He also didn’t want to judge her or come across as insecure. So, he was really just trying to bide his time to get over it, with regards to that portion of her lifestyle.

But, one of his biggest secret concerns was her interest in his superpowers. It sometimes came across as a little bit fetishizing. Now… He definitely wanted her to want him and he didn’t necessarily have a problem with her being drawn to his powers. They were an amazing part of him. But, he also didn’t want that to be the sole reason that she was so attracted to him. He wanted it to just be part of the package that she got with him, and he wanted to be sure about that.

So, while he was still mulling over the idea of them and their future together, as well as continually getting to know her as his partner, he chose to wait to take it further physically.

Charlotte, on the other hand was feeling a little bit rejected about it. She was a confident woman. She didn’t make decisions lightly, but when she made decisions, she always knew that she had made the best one for who she was at the time of the decision. She had decided to be with Max. She knew what she wanted, and he was one of those desires. He was a very well thought out goal and she was secure in herself for making the choice. But, whenever he would hold back or stop her from handling up on some pants party business, she couldn’t help but wonder what his issue was with being with her. They were very open, but she always felt like he was kind of secretive about this thing. “I just don’t feel like we’ve reached that point, yet,” he told her and when she asked what would make him feel like they have, he only said, “More time and consideration.” So.. she read that as him not wanting her like that. It was oddly infuriating, but she knew that she had no right to be mad, and she didn’t want to be mad. But… why didn’t he want her though? He spent so long wanting to be with her and now, she was all in and he was… restrained.

She had decided to stop going out, stop meeting men, stop kicking it with the men that she knew a little better than casually, whenever she realized that she was interested in Max. While she wasn’t necessarily a trollop, she could definitely identify as a minx, sometimes.

She and her ex broke up a little bit before Henry applied to Share-a-Lair. They had been together for almost 5 years, the first couple long distance, the next couple on and off, and in that last year that they were together, he became a little restless. He didn’t understand why she wouldn’t come on tour with him (he was an international music superstar). He didn’t understand why she didn’t seem to want to be with him more, because high school was over, she was almost done with college, and she didn’t have any prospects for work or anything. He just wanted her to spend more time with him and for them to experience more of his fortunate life and extravagant lifestyle with him than just summers and sometimes breaks…

So, Charlotte made the mature decision to set him free and remain friends. They… talked a lot less, but she would see him living what seemed like his best life without her. It was bittersweet. Every now and then , he’d text something amazing and tell her, “Wish you were here. This would be perfect with you.” He was absolute wonderful, but she knew that a lot of his time had already been spent on her and now that he was a fully grown man; she couldn’t ask him to standby and wait. She might never be ready and the world was his oyster. She bowed out, threw herself into Henry/work, and began to see other men, casually on her weekends and such. 

However, from the first time that Max said that she was cute, she didn’t realize it at the time, but she stopped going out as much. If a guy that she’d spent time with hit her up with the WYD, she’d either decline from seeing them, or not even remember to reply. Max was into her system before she really acknowledged it.

One time, Max commented, “You know that Jack Swagger is coming through here for a tour - do you wanna try to get tickets?” Charlotte tilted her head in confusion. They hadn’t discussed this, so she was unsure if this was his way of fishing for information. He noticed her hesitation and said, “Jasper makes comments calling him “ya boy,” so I presumed that you were a fan, but now I’m guessing that he’s being ironic when he does that?” Now, she sighed and laughed a little.

“No. I am a fan. It’s just that Jack and I used to hang out, so I didn’t know if you knew that and were being facetious, or worse… weird about it.”

“Why would I be weird about… WAIT - You and Jack Swagger used to hang out? When?”

“Like… before he got famous, and for a while afterwards. We really only stopped in the last maybe year and a half.”

“I once hung out with Cheyenne briefly. I mean… that’s an exaggeration. I scammed to get close to her and got busted,” he laughed. “So, are you still on good terms with him? Because, truth be told, his ticket prices are outrageous.”

She laughed too now and said, “As it stands, I don’t have to pay for tickets to his shows, but I don’t know if I’d bring another man. That might get us into an uncomfortable area.” Max was confused. Damn, did Jack Swagger have a crush on her too? She expounded, “I was supposed to take a gap year after high school and go on his European tour with him, but after planning to for a while, I backed out and told him that I just couldn’t. I think that was the beginning of the end, to be honest. But… he did let me design all his wardrobe for it, so in a way it was like he took a piece of me with him, and now, I get to charge people CRAZY prices to slash and alter jeans every now and then whenever I need some side cash.” She laughed and said, “I actually paid for my car by designing a dress for Cheyenne, so small world.”

Max was frozen in the same weird smile that he’d had for a while. It was like he was in shock, but then realized something, and then he looked like he was hit in the gut. “So… You used to hang out with Jack Swagger,” he said. It was emotionless, but he looked bothered.

“I’m sure you’ve hung out with plenty of women before you met me.”

“I wouldn’t say plenty, and I certainly wasn’t ‘take a gap year to travel the world with them’ hanging out. When I hung out with someone, it was mostly just that.” He sat down. “How long were you together?” He shook his head, “Nevermind. It’s your past. It’s none of my business. Then again - you still get free tickets, but it would be uncomfortable if you brought your boyfriend…”

“I wouldn’t bring you there on a free ticket. I’d pay for it!” She said.

“Yeah, but...Does he still love you?” 

“We’re still friends.” She didn’t say no. “We’ll most likely always be friends, unlike the guys that I saw in between then and now. So… please, don’t make this an issue.”

He smiled. She could tell he was still bothered, “I won’t.” And he didn’t. But, it was still on his mind and made him even less secure about them physically. Jack Swagger… That dude had to have been able to land any woman in the world and if he was still hung up on her, like… what made him that way? Could he even satisfy her? 

So, Charlotte simply moved at his pace - which was almost not moving at all. He was definitely affectionate. He loved snuggling with her and he could kiss her for hours without regret, if she’d let him. But, when she decided to press forward and see how far he would allow her to move forward. He usually didn’t stop her, but she could tell when she was making him uncomfortable and she would stop herself. Affirmative consent mattered and his last communication was that he wanted to wait. After a while, she gave up. Her shoulders slumped and her sigh was harder than she meant. “Are you okay?” He wondered.

She nodded her head, but said, “I think I ought to go home tonight.”

“Tonight? We have plans tomorrow.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow. I just think I should sleep in my own bed tonight.”

His eyes dropped and looked off to the side. They were silent a moment, then she started to get up. “Charlotte... I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said. She meant that. He had no reason to be sorry, just like she had no right to be upset.

“I didn’t tell you that we had to stop. I just... wasn’t sure what to do next. I don’t know what my limits are. I didn’t mean to clam up like that.”

“You don’t have to explain anything, Max. I’m not entitled to your body or your physical attraction.” She looked like she was far from okay. She looked super hurt and now, he was upset with himself. 

“You think that I’m not attracted to you?” He wondered. 

She shrugged her shoulders, “You see something in me, but I really don’t feel like getting into this. I’m gonna go home, handle this and go to sleep.” She looked like she might cry, but she wasn’t going to. Hell no. Not in front of him, and not about something so... she wanted to consider it superficial, but she couldn’t. Not with how she felt.

“You’re the most attractive person that I have ever seen. That’s not what my problem is...”

“Then what is it, Dude? Why don’t you want me?” She silently cussed at herself. She didn’t mean to ask that or to use that tone. 

“I do want you. So, so bad. I just... Don’t really know if I can be what you want, and I guess that I wanted to stay super in your mind for a little bit longer. But, if it’s making you feel like this...”

“The last thing anybody wants is to feel like you feel obligated.” They were both silent again. She sighed and sat back down. “I don’t want you to feel pressured by me. I just don’t understand why you’re so reluctant to share yourself with me, but you don’t owe me that.” 

“Did you hear what I said?” He asked. “I’m trying to tell you that I’ve never done this before. But, I shouldn’t let that stop me. I shouldn’t make you feel bad because I’m scared to fail you…” He threw his head back. “I didn’t mean to make you feel rejected. I’ve wanted you since I first met you, and I still want you. Of course I do. How could I not? But, you’re like… super hot and I’ve realized that you’ve probably got expectations and desires that I’m not gonna be able to just meet. I hate things that I don’t know that I’m good at. This Is too important.”

She stared at him, “Wait. So… you’ve never hung out with anybody and now you think that you’re gonna let me down?” He didn’t want to agree to that, specifically. Luckily, she moved on, with a smile, “You… do know that I could just tell you what I like, and you could tell me what you’re interested in trying, right? I mean.. You know that everybody, including me, generally had to figure out from experience what works for us.”

“Yeah, but you’ve figured it out and I’ve barely explored it. And I’m older than you. It's a little bit…”

“Unexpected, sure,” she said cutting off whatever self deprecating  description he might be thinking. “Max, I don’t think that anybody would ever expect somebody as good looking and well made as you to have waited. But, also, that makes me feel so much better than thinking that it’s just me you’re holding back with. It’s cool. Thank you for telling me. I understand now and I don’t feel so disappointed. There are other things that can be done while I wait, but that uncertainty was what was really messing with me.” 

“Will you stay tonight?” He asked, gently.

“Yeah.”

“I think I’m ready for... more...”

She studied him a moment, to ascertain if he was just saying that or not. He seemed genuine. Maybe. She would simply try to see how far he would let her go without discomfort and this time, she wouldn’t have to wrestle any feelings of doubt if he hesitated. She would always stop, but now she would know exactly why she had to.

.

A/N: In this particular story/chapter, there’s a few things in Max’s personality/lifestyle that some of you may be wondering why I decided on them. What I’m talking about is his sexual history, or lack thereof. The reason that I decided to go this way with Max’s sexuality/experience is actually derived from a few small things that I picked up from watching The Thundermans. 

Max’s pickup lines were not the ones of someone who knows how to play the field. I know for a fact that even with his looks, if some dude said some of that mess to me out in the real world, I’m clowning him, and I want to dare to hope that y’all would at least not dignify his methods with interest in him. So, I’m voting on he can’t really get casual encounters with women in his “league,” generally.

But, I am betting that he wouldn’t be very interested in casual encounters either. We saw him have a few hard crushes before his canon girlfriend, and usually the case was that he somehow got a date with these girls, but was bending over backwards to impress them (serving me desperation teas, but also showing me that in his youth, he was willing to work hard for a girl he liked, even when he wasn’t going to be with her for a while), and that kind of “give it my all” mentality is usually for the folk who want a relationship to have some endurance.

Even villain Max, when he had the first crush we see him having - he envisions a woman at his side in his dominion, as his partner, ruling with him. He doesn’t seem to want to use his power to acquire a lot of girls, and his shyness around a few of the girls he’s liked makes me think that he would be awkward with a woman that he doesn’t fully know and trust with himself.

His nightmare about Allison kissing another dude in a play then deciding to marry him indicates to me that he mentally has a strong connection between physical exchange and commitment. That his brain would jump from a kiss to getting married tells us more about how he thinks about relationships than his fear in that episode.

Allison kissed him first. I know, he was young and that was his first girlfriend, but I think it also shows that within his personality, while kissing was something he obviously enjoyed, because he was engaged as soon as it happened, it wasn’t something he went after.

In short, in my opinion, Max Thunderman is a physically conservative man who reserves sexual intimacy for meaningful relationships and that he also seeks out genuine partnership for those purposes. Even though he wanted to be in a band to get girls, I think he wanted the attention of girls, but ultimately that he just wants to be able to have and to hold one really special woman and to hold on to her for a long time.

If it’s a reach, it’s a reach, but that was my reasoning for his style in this chapter.

[an-aura-about-you]

Sealed With A Kiss

Hey, when inspiration strikes, you gotta write.

“Will you pretend to be my boyfriend?”

Autor looks askance across the table at Erina. It’s probably the best reaction she could have asked for, honestly.

“Why?” Autor asks.

Erina puts her hands along her nose, fingers at the bridge. “Because if I have to hear Mr. Felidae ask me one more goddamn time if me and Fakir are gonna get married, I’m gonna scream.”

His face scrunches a bit. “That’s pretty inappropriate to ask.”

She slips her hands together so the palms meet and pleads, “C’mon, won’t you pretend to be my boyfriend to get him and like the half of Goldkrone that’s trying to pair me up with Fakir off my back?”

He’s got one why covered now, but Erina’s response hadn’t answered the others implied by his asking.

“What’s Fakir said about all of this?”

She scoffs, letting her arms drop to the table. “He doesn’t care. If it’s not dancing, writing, or his duckling, he just ignores it. Good luck finding someone he looks at with even half as much affection as he does that duck.”

He considers this while sipping his tea, glad Erina didn’t take him up on the offer to make some for her and that his parents are out for the time-being. His mind wanders off to whether spilling tea or his parents hearing Erina’s request would be worse, but he reins his thoughts in.

“Why a pretend boyfriend, though? Surely you could find a real one.”

“Uggggggh, I don’t have time to put that much into a relationship.”

“And you don’t think you’re going to have to put in time with me to make things convincing?” Autor puts his tea down and crosses his arms. “Why ask me at all? Real or fake, there have to be other guys you could ask to do this.”

“Yeah, but you’re not gross around me,” she answers. “Or at least, I haven’t caught you leering at me or anything. And you got your own stuff going on like books and piano, so if people ask why we’re not all hanging on each other I can say, ‘Oh, Autor had to go study; you know how he is,’ or, ‘Autor’s practicing a new piece and needs to concentrate.’ You know, you’re a real person like that.”

It’s an odd sort of compliment, if she even meant it as one, but Autor accepts it as one anyway.

When she doesn’t put anything else forth, he sits and contemplates her case. She’s trying to make things complicated, or at least she doesn’t understand how complicated it can get. Being a verbal excuse is one thing, but it won’t be enough for the gossips in town to actually leave her alone. They’ll want evidence. Which means, if he agrees, he has to be willing to provide it. Is he willing to do that? And if not, where do they go from here?

“C’mon, please?” she asks again.

“I’m thinking about it,” he answers. “What’s in it for me?”

“I have money,” she says.

Autor scoffs this time. “Money for this?”

“I have jewelry shop money,” she clarifies.

“And I have descendant of a fairy tale author, son of a successful opera singer money,” he retorts. “You don’t want to give me money. You don’t want someone willing to take it to pretend to be your boyfriend.”

“Well then, what do you want?” she asks.

Autor loosens the fold of his arms a little. What does he want? Within Erina’s scope of granting, that is. Nothing jumps to mind, so he lets himself think once more. And once again, Erina interrupts the thoughts.

“Oh wait, I think I’ve got something!” she says. “It’s not with me, but I can get it for you to see. It’s a piece of jewelry my dad made, the AURYN.”

His eyes widen, his arms drop, and just like that her mouth pulls into a satisfied smirk.

“What?” he gets out. “He made a replica of AURYN from The Neverending Story?”

“Yep!” Erina answers, taking her turn to fold her arms. “He’s actually made a few of them, with the inscription on the back and everything. He likes working on the little details of the piece. Some of them are cheaper metal, so I can get you one without him making a fuss-” She lifts a hand up here, pointer finger up. “-if you’re willing to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Just like everything that came before, this new offer deserves Autor’s thought as well. But any arguments he might have had against it are crumbling. In a flash he’s back in the shoes of Bastian Balthazar Bux, shoes he’s walked in at least a dozen times if not more, and he’s being offered the Gem, the Glory, by the Childlike Empress herself. Come to think of it, her brown eyes do have a touch of gold in the light. Is that why her father likes making replicas of AURYN or does he just appreciate a good book, too? But besides that, he understands enough to know that he doesn’t want or need the actual AURYN, not when his family is born with the ability to do what they wish without the same dreadful consequences.

Autor takes a deep breath and goes, “Fine. Okay. You win, Golden-Eyed Commander of Wishes.“

“Yes!” Erina calls, pulling her arms in and balling her hands up in success.

“But,” he cuts in. “If we’re going to do this, we need to set up the rules of our charade.”

“Rules?” she asks, carrying that familiar tone of What Am I Getting Myself Into? that Autor’s heard so often.

“Like how far we’re going to carry the act,” he says, matter of fact. “Obviously the whole point of a pretend boyfriend is to be performative, but how far does the performance go? Where does it end? Clearly, I’ll need to know so I don’t make a mistake later.”

“Now look, if I thought things were gonna get this complicated, it’d probably be easier to get an actual boyfriend.”

Autor shrugs. “I guess there’s nothing stopping you from doing that, but it’d lead to a boundaries talk, too.”

Erina leans her hand on her cheek. “You just like writing rules up, don’t you? I get the feeling you’d do the same thing if I asked you to be my boyfriend for real.”

He gets out of his seat to fetch a pen and paper. “Come on, you want this to be convincing, right? If it’s not, half of Goldkrone is going to keep trying to play matchmaker between you and Fakir. They might anyway if they think I’m not a good boyfriend.”

“Fine,” she agrees, drumming her fingers against her.

And with that, the negotiations begin. The two manage to set the rules of secrecy and schedule a regular public date night, the framework of their relationship easy enough to build. But as with most negotiations, the details need the most work.

“Okay, what am I permitted to call you with regards to terms of endearment?” Autor asks, scratching the outline of a new section.

“Really? That seems like something we’d figure out in time.”

“Maybe if we were an actual couple, but if there’s anything that I absolutely can’t call you, it’s better if I know now.” He taps the pen at his chin. “For example, if I end up calling you kitten and you leave in a huff, people who thought we were dating might think you’ve ended it.”

Erina sticks her tongue out when he says kitten. “Okay, I see your point. Definitely not kitten. How about you just run through some and we’ll see what I do?”

“All right. Honey?”

She scrunches her nose a bit, pulling her lip up almost in a snarl.

“Liebling?”

She tips her head from side to side, shaking the word about to see if it fits. It doesn’t.

“Pet?”

“Ew, no!”

“I should probably just steer clear of animals and words relating to them entirely,” he says, making note of that. “Do you have any nicknames?”

“Not really?” she tells him with a shrug. “Most people just call me Erina.”

“I could go with The Neverending Story again. How about Moonchild?”

“Except for that.” She even holds a hand up. “Please don’t call me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because sometimes my dad calls me Moonchild. It’d be weird for a boyfriend to call me that, real or fake.”

“That’s fair,” he agrees. Maybe he’s right about his guess on Erina’s father thinking of Erina like the Childlike Empress. “And Golden-Eyed Commander of Wishes is a bit lengthy for a pet name. Maybe once in a while if you want me to be particularly mushy, but not all the time.” He writes it down separate from the other names he’s gone through, listing it out as an extreme cases nickname. “With your name being so short, it’s not like there’s much to shorten it to in the first place. Erin? Rin? Rina?”

Erina’s eyes widen a bit at the last one. “Wait, Rina is cute.”

“Oh?” He writes it down and jots, “maybe?” beside it.

“Yeah. How come no one’s ever called me that until now?” She waves her hand to permit it. “You can call me that all you want.”

He scratches out, “maybe?” and puts down, “Definitely,” in its place.

“So what do I get to call you?” she asks, propping her elbows on the table and setting her chin in her hands. “Do you have any nicknames?”

“Not really,” Autor admits. “Guess there’s not much point when my name’s only two syllables.”

“I could call you Tory.”

He hums, his pen to his mouth. “It’s not bad. We could try it if you like, but I don’t know if I’d answer to it.”

Erina hums in return. “That’s a good point. What about honey?”

He shrugs.

“Sweetheart?”

He shakes his head, not in dismissal but as though shaking his hair out. “That just seems wrong.”

“Dear?”

“Maybe, though it doesn’t feel terribly personal.”

“Well, how personal do we wanna get? That can turn into a slippery slope.”

“That’s fair.” He makes a note on the page. “Look, I’m probably not going to get offended by anything you call me, so why don’t we just leave that alone for now? We have other matters to discuss, anyway.”

“Like...?” she prompts.

“Like where I’m permitted to kiss you.”

Erina lifts her head away from her hands. “Excuse me?!”

Autor rolls his eyes. “I mean for chaste public displays of affections. Honestly, if you don’t care about it looking real, what’s the point of having a pretend boyfriend?” He takes down another note. “I was considering lips, cheeks, and hands.”

She sighs, partly in frustration and partly in relief. “Okay, yeah, that makes sense. Or at least, lips and cheeks do. Why hands, though?”

“Like this,” he says, holding his hand out to her.

Slowly, Erina puts her hand in his, and he brings it up to leave a brief kiss on the back.

“Oh...” she says in understanding. Or perhaps something else. “Yeah, yeah that’s fine.”

He takes his hand back, letting it slip out from under hers. He briefly presses his lips together a moment from a strange, inexplicable spark? Why was there a spark? And he continues writing. “All right. What about holding hands and hugs?”

She takes her hand back, tapping her fingers against her lips and occasionally looking to the spot where Autor kissed her. “Holding hands is fine. Hugs will probably be better later when I’m more used to this setup.”

“Fine with me; I’m not big on hugs myself. Is there anything else I should know about as far as date topics or actions that are off limits?”

“I mean, this all sounds pretty good,” she says. “I can’t think of any specific topic that’s a definite no on a date, and I’d probably tell you then and there if something comes up, anyway. Don’t worry about, like, chivalry or whatever, though. You don’t have to hold the door open for me or pay for dinner or bring flowers or anything.”

“Okay, but what if I want to bring flowers as part of the act? If I’m going to pretend to be your boyfriend, I want to look like a good one.”

She smiles against her fingertips. “I can’t argue with that. If you want to bring flowers, then I’ll accept them, but they’re not a requirement.”

He nods and adds another note. “And your favorite flowers?”

“Orange roses.”

Autor looks up from his paper at her immediate answer. “That didn’t take you long.”

Erina shrugs. “I like roses, but I get tired of the red ones and white ones people give after a performance. So I like the ones that are different, and orange is my favorite color for them.”

“Well, that’s fair,” he agrees, taking another note. “And if you like, when you feel I’ve done my duty to earn AURYN, you can give it to me on one of our dates. I think that will really help the verisimilitude.”

She laughs at this. “Paying you for your fake boyfriend services in front of other people while they think I’m just giving my boyfriend a gift? I love it. I’ll wrap it up and everything for you.”

He scratches in a few more details and then sets his pen down. “There.” He turns the paper for her to see. “Does all of this look agreeable to you?”

She picks up the paper, squints her eyes a moment, and frowns. “Your handwriting is awful.”

“That’s just my notes. If you’d like me to write it up properly, I can. Or I can dictate it to you and you can write your own copy for...”

She looks at him when he trails off and goes, “What?”

He covers part of his face with his hand and goes, “I was going to say you could write your own copy for your records. Why in the world would you want a record of this?”

She snorts and laughs again. “Good point. Well, if it’s everything that we just talked about, then it’s fine with me.”

“That’s settled, then,” Autor says, getting to his feet and holding his hand out to her.

“Hm?” she hums in curiosity.

“Well?” he says. “We’re making a deal. Shouldn’t we shake on it?”

Erina stands as well. “Shake on it? That seems awfully impersonal for my ‘boyfriend’ to suggest. If we’re gonna have to get used to kissing each other anyway, why not seal it with a kiss?”

Autor’s eyes widen as his arm drops to his side. “I wasn’t exactly planning on kissing anyone today.”

“You already did,” she says, showing him the back of her hand. And with that same hand, she reaches to him and tugs him closer by the collar of his shirt. She stares him down, pointedly not saying anything about the tiny gasp he made.

He pulls her hand away from his collar but doesn’t move back. “Fine. But we go in together.”

“Fine,” she agrees.

And with that, they both lean in towards each other and briefly meet their lips together in a chaste press of a kiss.

Autor slowly pulls away, telling himself the new spark he feels on his mouth is not that but a sting. He has just agreed to lie, might as well start by insisting in his mind that this is a good idea.

“So, shall I pick you up at the time of the appointment?” he makes himself ask.

Erina smiles and answers, “It’s a date.”

[complicatedandstained]

The Other Day at Hot Topic: Do No Harm

It feels a little bit like the role of Vanitas has been recast halfway through their shift. 

The guy has started doing his work like a regular human being, going as far as offering to help Roxas finish restocking the piercing display and then not giving him shit about it. 

Although, to be fair, this could be because Vanitas was losing patience. Roxas, admittedly, has absolutely and entirely no idea what he is doing. Aqua had assumed Roxas knew a lot more about which metal stabs through which piece of skin than he does. 

Actually, Vanitas has taken to not talking to Roxas at all. He has his headphones back on and, if his volume is any indication, is doing his damnedest to broadcast his music throughout the entire store. Roxas has to refrain from singing along when Fall Out Boy comes on. 

But either way Roxas slices it, it’s a definite improvement. 

And then this super old man comes in, chugging along on a walker with balloons tied to his wrist. Orbiting him is a chattering, hyperactive, wholesomely chubby child, the kind of child you kind of want to hug. 

The old man has a scowl etched onto his face like it’s been there a while. He almost immediately begins to grumble about the low lighting and the loud music and the tight spaces between the aisles that make navigation with a walker near impossible. 

The child is wearing an extremely yellow Wilderness Explorer uniform, and explore he does—every square inch of the store seemingly all at once. He bumps off of display cases and walls like a human pinball, poking at the cheeks of stuffed animals and brushing his hands through the fabrics.

The old man continues his complaining from the front as he eyes the display cases, muttering about the dark colors and the flimsy material and the skimpy cuts. 

Vanitas keeps glancing between the two of them from his station near Anime where he’s restocking the Hello Kitty plush. Roxas imagines he’s examining camera angles, trying to decide who would be easier to take out first. Another glare the old man’s direction, and Roxas decides to step in, before his coworker does.

“Hey there! After anything in particular today?” Roxas asks. He’s halfway through adding new buttons to the magnetic boards of the display case by the register, and he holds out a handful with a smile. “Button?”

The old man looks taken aback. “Thanks, but,” the old man offers a quiet smile in return, tugging at the lapel of a worn suit jacket, where he has a round, pop bottle cap of his own pinned, “I have the only button I need.” 

Roxas feels a strange tingling in his chest at the sudden softness in the gruff man’s tone. Someone special must have given it to him. For a split second Roxas pictures Axel, hands splayed, eyes bright, telling him about stained glass windows.  

The conversation shatters as a childlike someone shouts, “I found it! I found it!” followed immediately by the sound of several hundred small boxes crashing down, and then a delayed, much quieter, “Uh-oh.”

“Russell…” the old man groans, shutting his eyes. 

The old man has stopped near the entrance, as he cannot easily navigate the tight passages between Hot Topic’s displays, so Roxas nods to him. “I’ll make sure he’s alright.”  

Roxas power walks through the aisles, until he gets to the wall-length Funko Pop display. Half a shelf is on the floor between Vanitas and the chubby, adorable scout, who has a single box clutched to his chest.

“This is the one!” The child beams and waves the box close enough to Vanitas face that Roxas is concerned the kid will lose a finger. “The Snipe! I found it!” 

Roxas freezes as Vanitas’ face twitches. With rigid movements the guy yanks down his headphones, says flatly, “Congratulations.”

Compared to all the potential curse words Roxas feared would leave his mouth, Roxas considers this reply basically praiseworthy. 

Vanitas eyes flit down to the mess again, his arms crossing, and the kid notices. 

“I am sorry about the mess,” Russell says, his bright voice painstakingly articulate, like maybe English isn’t his first language. Russell frowns, his dark eyebrows dipping low, troubled, dimples appearing in his round cheeks. “I will help you clean it up though!”  

Roxas takes a step forward, fully prepared to bodily restrain Vanitas if need be. 

“Psh.” Vanitas swats his hand toward the pile dismissively. “I’ve seen worse.”

Roxas is ready to give Vanitas a promotion at this point.

“Why don’t you go show Gramps your weird-as—weird-butt...bird thing.” 

“Okay!” Russell nods purposefully and then frowns, laughs. “Mr. Fredrickson is not my Grandpa though.” Vanitas’ face scrunches in mild confusion. “Oh?”

“Mr. Fredrickson is my best friend.” 

This is perhaps the single sweetest and saddest thing Roxas has ever heard.

With another radiant smile missing a couple key teeth, the child hugs his find to his chest once more and toddles off to the front of the store, chattering to the box, “I think I’ll call you ‘Kevin.’”

And for just a second, before Vanitas slips his headphones back on, with a slightly miffed shake of his head, Roxas thinks he sees Vanitas smile. 

*

Vanitas’ headphones have been off for a half hour now. Once Roxas had checked out Russell and Mr. Fredrickson, the Hot Topic workers set to doing serious damage control on the Pop Funkos. This entailed extensive sorting by platform, movie, and sale price, and some minor bickering about characters belong where, which made it abundantly clear that Roxas is the bigger nerd of the two and that Vanitas knows a weird amount about Star Wars.  

“God.” Vanitas passes Roxas the last couple obscure collectibles and whines, “Ordinarily, I’d just shove them all back on the shelf, and be done with it. Fucking kid. Fucking Axel. Fucking…” He leans forward to fix the one box threatening to fall back over. 

Roxas had thought Vanitas wanted to get fired, and now suddenly he’s vying for employee of the month. He shakes his head, sliding a hand in his pocket and looking out across the empty store.  “I don’t get you.”  

Vanitas lifts an angry-looking Hello Kitty penguin plush from the ground beside him and stares into its eyes like he sees some wisdom there. “You think I should just shut up and do my job, right?”

For a second Roxas wonders what the chances are that Vanitas hadn’t heard him and is simply talking to the penguin, but he decides those chances are fairly low. “It’d be easier…” Roxas mutters, fishing a few furry Chococat eye masks out of a cardboard box on the floor to help Vanitas with the display. 

“Wrong. You want to know why I wanted to get fired? This ‘job’ is a waste of my fucking time. I should be studying, interning. Literally scratching my eyeballs out would be more productive than this.” He lifts a Hello Kitty plush dressed as a cheeseburger up and shoves it in Roxas’ face like he’s trying to suffocate him and the plushie both.

Roxas rolls his eyes, and pushes Cheeseburger Kitty away. “Yeah, I’m sure the eyeball scratching pay is great…” I’ll ask Xion’s cat and get back to you.

“Ugh.” Vanitas adjusts a stack of Hello Kitty notebooks (regrettably not burger-themed) and accepts a handful of cat head topped gel pens from Roxas to add to the display cup beside it. This done he glowers at Roxas impatiently. “I forgot you don’t know shit. Look. I didn’t work my ass off getting a full ride to med school to wind up slaving away next to a bunch of sexually frustrated, punk wannabes.”

Roxas should be more offended about the last bit, but his brain gets stuck elsewhere. “You’re in med school?” A smile hits him in spite of himself. “Did they not warn you about the Hippocratic Oath?” 

Vanitas rams his shoulder into Roxas’ not hard enough to hurt, not light enough to be friendly. “Shut the fuck up.” Roxas considers Vanitas’ situation again, wondering why Vanitas is opening up to him now. “So, if you got a full ride, why work here?”

Vanitas sighs and shifts a few Sanrio nail polish sets over, then checks his own glossy white paint. “How much do you know about Xemnas?” Roxas glances up from his digging through the box. “The sexiest man alive?” Vanitas cringes, his fists balling up. “I fucking hate this place.”

“You…” Roxas hands him a couple more boxes of the polish sets, “disagree?” 

“He’s my uncle,” Vanitas says with venom. “He recently collected the family inheritance. He’s only in his thirties, and now he’s rich. Like, the filthy kind.” 

“Oh.” Roxas feels an uncomfortable pang his chest. Basically, Vanitas is telling him someone in his family recently died. So, either Vanitas is actually upset about that, or Vanitas didn’t know them that well and is just pissed he got the short end of the stick. But wouldn’t Vanitas’ parents have been next in line? Maybe they’d all been skipped?  “I’m sorry.” 

Vanitas doesn’t seem to hear him, pushes on, “Dear Uncle Xemnas is supposed to be helping me pay my rent and my bills, but he’s gotten it into his head that I need to learn to ‘be responsible’ and ‘make friends’ and all that elementary school bullshit. So now I’m working this stupid fucking minimum wage job. And if I don’t, I’m on my own.” 

Vanitas isn’t even looking at him anymore, he’s gripping the metal shelf of the display so hard his knuckles have gone bloodless. The sleeve of his blazer has slipped down, and Roxas can see tattoos running up from his wrist, red and blue veins, like his skin’s been flipped inside out. Med school, huh? Inheritance, suspension, friends… 

Roxas wonders if maybe Vanitas was just in desperate need of someone to dump this to. But why me? And how misanthropic do you have to be for your sexy uncle to blackmail you into having coworkers?

Then again, he did try to punch me in the face.  

“I mean…” Roxas considers patting Vanitas on the back with the Hello Kitty in his hand, but stops himself because he doesn’t want either to be ripped to shreds. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Vanitas whirls on him, face contorting. Roxas congratulates himself on the instinct not to give the guy a soothing pat. 

“You would say that. It’s fucking ridiculous. So what if I almost got suspended? I didn’t. So what if I don’t have any friends? I don’t need them.” Vanitas has gotten up in Roxas’ space again, the words harsh and direct, straight in his face. Roxas can feel a little spit fly. Roxas takes a long look at him, taking in what he’s heard, and maybe it’s just because Vanitas reminds him so much of a young Sora throwing a temper tantrum, or maybe it’s the two fights they’ve had earlier, but Roxas can’t bring himself to be angry with the guy any more. In fact, he’s starting to pity him a little bit. Roxas stares levelly, offers calmly, “Maybe friends would help.” 

Vanitas sneers, seizes Roxas’ shirt in his fists. Roxas lets him. 

“Wake up, sunshine. You’re not in elementary school anymore. Friendship isn’t magic. People always let you down. They let you down or they leave. Axel’s going to let you down. It’s better not to get attached.” Vanitas shoves Roxas’ chest and stalks off a few steps, but Roxas, being a black belt, catches himself easily, which seems to piss Vanitas off further when he glances back to see him still standing there. 

“You’re right,” Roxas says. 

“Huh?”

“Nobody’s perfect.” One of Roxas’ hands leave his pockets, lifts in a shrug. “Sometimes my best friends screw up. Sometimes they screw up a lot.” He almost laughs, thinking of Hayner, how many times he’s had to climb out of bed to pick him up, stumbling drunk. “But so do I.” I mean I dated Seifer, for Pete’s sake. He hadn’t thought anyone would forgive him for that, but, somehow, they had. “And at the end of the day, isn’t it enough that they care about me and that they tried?”

Roxas shifts his other hand out of its pocket, bringing a pack of Pop Rocks with it. “I don’t know what’s going to happen with Axel. Maybe he is going to hurt me, but maybe our friendship is going to be amazing. I’m not going to let maybe stop me from trying. And neither should you.” 

“Ugh.” Vanitas runs his fingers down his face like he’s trying to scrub it clean. But when he drops them his tone seems more level, “Forget the advice, you’re a hopeless sap.”  

Roxas smiles sadly. “Whatever you say, Vanitas.”

Vanitas eyes him, more wary than annoyed. “You’re setting yourself up for disappointment.”

Roxas shrugs. “Maybe I am. What about Aqua?”

Vanitas stiffens. Roxas feels like he’s just watched his defenses go up, an invisible shield. 

Vanitas flexes his hand against the stuffed animal he’s holding a few times. “What about her?” he says at last.

Roxas keeps his words soft, “You guys are friends, aren’t you?”

“She’s not my friend,” Vanitas counters, words quiet but forceful. His nostrils flare, staring at Roxas and then he turns sharply, like he doesn’t want to look at Roxas anymore, and goes back to shoving stuffed animals onto a shelf with unnecessary force. “She’s a hopeless sap like you. That’s why I’m standing here balls deep in Hello Kitty merch. Doing my fucking job. Tell Axel that.”

Roxas has no idea what to make of this. There’s obviously a lot of shit going down with Vanitas that he doesn’t know the first thing about. He decides it’s time to tap out. Defuse this situation before Vanitas makes with the punching again. 

Vanitas is still waiting for a reply. 

Roxas frowns a bit. “The Hello Kitty thing, or...?”

Vanitas takes a step forward, like a bull stomping its foot before the charge. 

Roxas raises his hands in surrender accordingly. “Okay, okay. I’ll tell him you were doing your damn job. Gees.”

There’s a tense moment as Vanitas considers Roxas’ sincerity and then he nods. “Thank you.” He tosses another Cheeseburger Kitty at Roxas’ face.  “Now fuck off.”

[jenovahh]

The Honey Pot - 2

This was originally titled “Black Rose” but i’ve finally settled on a title \o/

===========================================================

“They’re making you go after who?!”

You wince slightly at your friend’s shrill scream of outrage, bowing slightly in apology to the other customers in the restaurant.

“Lyse, you really need to keep your voice down,” You try to hush her, pushing her bowl of noodles a bit closer to her person. Her sparkling blue eyes are aflame in anger, hand roughly snatching the bowl so quickly that broth sloshes onto the table. Her blonde hair is tied up high in a ponytail, her police uniform clean and pressed. 

“How can I be quiet when they are having you do such a high level mission?!” She snarls, all but shoving her chopsticks into her food.

“Really Lyse, her captain wouldn’t have given her the assignment if she didn’t think she wasn’t capable.” Y’shtola chimes in, ever the calm to Lyse’s occasional hotheadedness. “Though I must admit, I have my reservations...” She trails off, brows furrowing. “Also, could you tell me where my chopsticks are?”

“Three o’ clock.” You and Lyse reply, to which the Miqo’te woman thanks you. Though blind, Y’shtola was a nurse at a local hospital, and though she did not work directly with you and Lyse, you had often bumped into her enough times on calls to make her acquaintance. With delicate hands, she picks up her chopsticks and begins to eat.

“Look guys,” you begin, taking a sip of your soda, “I’m nervous too, but like ‘Shtola said, I don’t think the captain would give me this mission if she didn’t believe in me.” Picking up your chopsticks as well, you lightly stir the noodles in the broth, resting your chin on your free hand. “Besides...if this mission goes well, imagine what it could mean for me in the long run? A promotion? Climbing up the ranks?”

“A promotion? In this economy?” Lyse snorts, pausing to slurp up some more noodles. “According to the files, no one even really knows much about the guy’s son anyway and they’re just throwing you in there on a hunch! You said in the reports that this Zenos guy right,”

Y’shtola has to stop herself from clapping a hand over her friend’s stupid mouth. “Lyse! Be careful!” She hisses, tail frizzing up.

“What else am I supposed to call him? We don’t know shit about him right?” Lyse defends, pointing her utensils at the riled Miqo’te. “They are feeding our friend to the wolves Y’shtola! I have a right to give the captain a piece of my mind,” You stop your friend’s tirade by reaching across the table and flicking her square in the forehead. “Ow! What did you do that for?!” She whines, rubbing at the offended spot.

“Lyse, while I appreciate your concern,” you begin diplomatically, giving her a small smile, “I’m not worried about this mission at all. In fact I’m a little excited.” You admit, your smile growing wider.

“Only someone as crazy as yourself would be eager to go fight the son of a crime lord...” Lyse grumbles, not at all hiding her pout. “Regardless, you promise to be careful, won’t you?” Y’shtola presses, her voice leaving no room for argument.

“Of course ‘Shtola. I would never be anything less.” You grin, steering the conversation onto easier, more pleasant topics such as Y’shtola’s relationship with her boyfriend Runar and Lyse fending off coworkers who can’t take no for an answer. 

The next day finds you back at headquarters preparing for a debriefing. Your name is no longer yours it feels like, being written away like that one movie you watched as a kid. Honey is the name you are given, and though it is a bit masculine, you find yourself unable to care. It isn’t your name, and that’s what matters.

“So, Honey, here’s how we’re going to weasel you into the crime underworld.” Merlwyb’s voice carries clearly in the room, Raubahn sitting casually at his desk, but his eyes are as hard as ever. You turn your eyes to the projection on the wall, showcasing the Rakuza District. It’s certainly not the seediest place in the city, but even you wouldn’t go out of your way to go there. 

“Word on the street is every once in awhile, you can catch a few decent brawls down there. Simple stuff, some petty gangs getting together to strut their stuff. None of them are anywhere near the level Varis is on in terms of their ‘goods’, but still they attract Zenos’ attention all the same.” The slide shuffles over to a seemingly abandoned warehouse. “Rumor has it that Zenos himself has been known to grace these lowlives with his presence in hopes of a challenge.”

“You’ll be working closely with another operative, whose code name is Thancred. We’ve had him slithering into a low level gang called the Marauders; all they do is petty crime. Break into a few jewelry stores, rob some gas stations. My twelve year old could take on these chumps.” She scoffs in disdain, complete with an eye roll. “We could clean these guys off the streets any day. But what matters is they’re our in; you’re going to join them under the guise of being a new recruit. Showing up on your own would look too suspicious.” She crosses her long arms pinning you with her stare. “I’m sure you understand that you must use whatever means necessary to catch his attention.” 

You definitely catch what she’s implying, and resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Hopefully he’s just interested in a good fight and nothing else.” You sigh, shifting in your seat. Merlwyb nods and gestures to Raubahn, who then speaks.

“We want you to look the part, play the part as much as possible. Don’t worry about any small theft or crime they have you participate in; it’ll be cleared from your record. We need you to be as convincing as possible. These people are smart Honey, the top of their class. Do what you must to get the info, but most importantly do what you must to stay alive.”

You nod in understanding, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You are moved to a new apartment on a different side of town from your own, given a different car, a different ID, a different wardrobe.

You wonder if it’d be too much to ask them to let you keep it all. After all your thighs do look amazing in fishnet tights and tight leather shorts, a snug leather vest sitting just so under your breasts atop a red tanktop. Your favorite fighting gloves adorned your hands; the only real leather you owned prior to this whole operation. With your combat boots and some black eyeliner, you finished off what you hoped was a bad girl look. You had binged on a few movies to try and get the look as close as possible.

“Hey baby, how you doin?”

Well it seemed to get the “right” attention anyway. The first few weeks at the Marauders are surprisingly uneventful, the hideout seeming restless as if waiting for some action. Sure enough Merlwyb’s words ring true. They’re nowhere near the level of crime that the Galvuses are. It’s just a group of big, burly men and women acting tough, Maetifyst heralding as their leader. He’s certainly the biggest and burliest of them all, and Thancred warns you to steer clear of him at all costs.

You do your best to hold your own, not at all trained in matters of espionage. You decide that aloof and mysterious is the best persona to take on; aloof to the point of oddity. That strangeness seems to give you a negative reputation in the gang, though it is soon bolstered with respect when you start winning your first infights. The members of the gang are all worse than amateurs compared to your training, with zero combat experience and used to simply throwing their weight around at whoever pisses them off. There are a few who approach you in challenge, thinking themselves bigger and smarter, only for you to send them packing and running to get patched up with their tail between their legs.

It is your talent however, that puts you right in the way of Maetifyst. 

“You’re tough lil’ cookie ain’t cha?” The Roegadyn’s green skin somehow glows warmly in the light of his makeshift office, looking deceptively decent somehow in this abandoned warehouse. Dressed in a stark black suit and his hair styled upwards, he certainly carries himself as the boss. “Checkin’ up on new recruits ain’t much to me. All I need is muscle who will do as they’re told. You however...” his eyes run across you in a way that had you not needed to be undercover, your fist would be through his chest. “You might be just what we need.”

You pause for a moment to tilt your head. “Need for what?” You ask, playing the innocent doe.

“Tell me girl, have you ever heard of the Galvuses?” His voice his hushed now, his hand reaching to pour himself a glass of whiskey from a nearby bottle. He gently grabs a nearby glass, pouring the liquor smoothly until it is half full.

You take another moment to pause before answering. “You mean like the businessmen?” You question, watching as the man smirks.

“Aye, the businessmen. ‘Cept they ain’t no businessmen. They’s some right crooks, that they are.” He chortles, swirling the liquor in its glass. “The Galvuses have little people like us under their heel yeah? Might shock ya to know, but they’re actual crime bosses; like the ones in the movies.” He reclines in his chair, knocking back the whole glass and slamming it on the table when he’s done. “And we’re sick of ‘em.”

You lean forward slightly to show your interest. “Do they...bully you or something?” You ask, wincing at your choice of words. Maetifyst seems to not notice, instead bellowing in laughter, eyes twinkling with mirth.

“S’pose you could say that huh?” He chuckles, crossing one leg over the other. “When it comes to crime in Kugane, we answer to them in a way. Ya see we deal in DVDs, watches, even some cheap drugs on the side. But it’s not the real stuff. It ain’t Black Rose.”

You do your best to hide your spike of interest, fighting to remain aloof as Maetifyst just gives himself away. He must really want you to worm your way into the Galvuses’ gang to be giving away this info for free. “Black Rose...isn’t that,”

“It’s the good stuff.” He chuckles. “Students love the shit, yeah? For awhile the Galvuses had a monopoly on the stuff, but seems like they got a bit too big for their britches if ya catch my drift. I got in contact with a fellow gang called the Gunbreakers and they been cookin’ up some equally good shit. It’s been bringin’ in some real money for us.” Opening a drawer at his desk he pulls out a cigar, accompanied by a lighter. “However, them Galvuses ain’t too keen on us pushin’ in on their turf. Things been tense lately. But with you...” He trails off, giving you a once over again.

“If I can get you to catch Zenos yae Galvus’ attention with skills like yours, you just may be our in.” He sneers, taking a long drag from the cigar. “Not to say I don’t like havin’ ya around, but we could probably trade ya for some corners. I wouldn’t worry much about it. I know they treat folks good over there, with all the cash they got.”

You can’t hold back your snort fast enough, fumbling to recover. “Me? Good enough to get in with the Galvus line?” You do your best to come off as incredulous as possible, hoping he buys your slip up. The irony of the situation is not lost on you.

“Now’s not the time to act humble kid. My fightin’ days may be over, but even I can tell you wreck shop.” He takes another long drag, blowing out smoke into the stuffy office. “The Galvuses keep their crew tight. Don’t replace their ranks unless one of them ‘leaves’ if you catch my drift. Your opportunity comes this weekend, where we’ll be putting you in their little tournament. Climb to the top and snag the attention of the Galvus’ lines higher ups. If they like ya enough, maybe they’ll send one of their boys on their way out.”

“Just like that, huh?” You question, trying not to huff at Maetifyst’s easy grin.

“Just like that.”

[plutonianbees]

santa monica dream (f!sidestep/f!ortega)

here’s a one shot i wrote about my useless lesbian sidestep named dawn, in which she unwillingly dreams about a happy memory.

-----

dreaming is dawn’s least favorite. because her dreams aren’t always nightmares consisting of bad memories. sometimes they’re good memories, and those hurt worse than the latter.

tonight, she climbs into bed, her body throbbing with incessant pain and her mind buzzing from painkillers that don’t work. she checks her shitty little phone one last time with stupid curiosity to see if anyone has texted - or rather, someone in particular. but there are no new messages. she hates the way that makes her feel hollow. stupid. sucking in breath between her teeth, she lets the phone drop to the ground, and turns off the lamp on her bedside table.

sleep comes quickly. it’s dreamless at first. false hope, for sure. 

there is no such thing as dreamless sleep, nowadays, after everything and nothing. it’s not fair. but many things aren’t fair.

she’s sitting beside julia. of course the dream starts with that.

julia’s hair is long and braided, and there’s wispy curls around her face as she turns her face up to the sky. dawn watches her eyes close in momentary bliss, a smug smile on her face as she breathes in the salty air. salty air?

dawn looks out in front of them, and she sees the ocean, and the sun glittering on the water.

oh. they’re sitting by the sea. that makes sense.

“i used to hate the ocean when i was little,” julia says, glancing sideways at dawn with amusement in her tone. dawn looks back at her. she’s young, and golden in the light, and beautiful as always. it’s ridiculous. “i don’t know if i’ve ever told you that.”

“you haven’t,” dawn responds, and her own voice sounds far away. it’s a dream, so that happens sometimes, though now dawn is unaware that she’s dreaming at all.

“well, i used to be scared of sharks. and dad used to tell me stories about people getting swept out to sea by the currents and waves. i thought that was the most terrifying thing i’d ever heard.” when she talks about her father, she uses a neutral tone. dawn could never speak neutrally about someone that she resented, even when reminiscing about simple memories like this. but that’s simply apart of julia’s survival system - don’t give power to things that have hurt you, and the hurt won’t own you.

“you never struck me as someone who would have been scared by that,” dawn remarks, spitting out a piece of hair that gets in her mouth when the wind blows. having long hair is such a hassle. it’s too bad she’s too insecure to cut it all off, even if she spends most of her time in public in a suit and mask.

julia laughs, at both dawn’s comment and hair struggle. dawn notices she’s fiddling with a seashell between her always moving fingers. “well, i was. just imagining getting swept out gave me nightmares. i refused to even stick my feet in the water.” she shrugs as she always does. “i guess it was the lack of control that scared me. but i don’t mind it much, now.” she sets aside the seashell and picks up another one, looking it over with curious eyes.

fear of a lack of control. dawn can certainly empathize with that. but she also wonders what changed julia’s mindset about it.

“what changed?” dawn asks, and inwardly cringes. wow. she really couldn’t have phrased that inquiry any more pointedly. for someone who values privacy, it seems she has no shame impeding on others’.

julia looks at her, and to dawn’s relief, she’s not surprised or offended. rather, she looks truly thoughtful. her dark brown eyes are honey colored in the sun. damn. the sunlight on the sea doesn’t hold a candle to her.

“i almost died,” she answers. “and i became a vigilante. after a while, control was way more of an act than a reality. i knew i had no choice to accept that, so i did.” she pauses, looking like she has something else to say, but decides better of it. instead, she sighs, and continues. “and now… somehow, the lack of control feels nice. sometimes i want to take advantage of it and do whatever the hell i want, but i don’t really have the choice to do that when i’m relied on so much.” her smile is semi wistful now, and dawn’s heart pangs for a reason that she can’t decipher.

“maybe someday you’ll have that choice,” dawn suggests, a bit quieter as she turns her gaze away. in her gut, she’s definitely jealous that there’s even a ‘maybe’ in julia’s forecast. julia could throw everything to the wind and stop what she was doing, nevermind the consequences that would come with that.

dawn? she had never had a choice in anything, and she never would. that had been for sure from the moment she was created.

but... what if she did have a choice? what if they could both leave all of this behind at the drop of a hat someday? it’s immensely unrealistic to think about, and she’s well aware of that.

somehow, in the warmth of this moment and the fuzziness she feels when julia smiles, “what if”s don’t sound all that bad.

“maybe,” julia responds thoughtfully, looking out at the waves with her eyebrows knit. she’s quiet for a moment, and then nudges dawn with her elbow, a playful grin blossoming on her face. “but i don’t think i could do that without at least taking you with me. you can’t get away from me that easily.” her words are playful, but there's a hint of sincerity underneath - one that only she can pull off.

dawn chuckles, managing to hide the ache in her chest as she nudges her back. “i’ll hold you to that.”

they’re both quiet after that, looking out to the water and listening to the waves crash. it’s late afternoon, almost evening - they should be heading back soon. but there’s a sense of calm in dawn’s chest that she hasn’t felt in a long time. maybe she’s never felt this calm before. it’s nice. julia is nice. the sun on the water is nice, even if it’s bright.

so bright that there’s still spots behind dawn’s eyes when she wakes up.

there’s no jolt, no gasp, no throwing of covers. just darkness and the mixture of feelings in her chest as she becomes aware of her own consciousness.

maybe. 

what if.

those phrases still echo in the back of her mind, and fuck, she hates them. she runs her fingers across the buzzed texture of her scalp. things have changed. there’s no room for the stupid fantasies she had before her world turned upside down.

unlike when she has nightmares, she doesn’t get up to get a cigarette. instead, she lays in bed, and she thinks, and the tears come before she can stop them. so she curls into herself, and she lets herself cry, mourning the loss of everything exchanged in that memory. the laughter. the warmth of the sun. the notion that there was a future for the both of them, as bleak as it was.

it turns out that she has a choice now. she won’t change what she’s going to do with that choice.

but right now, she allows herself to wish otherwise, with julia’s smile and the sea burnt so vividly into her mind.

[akitokihojo]

Rage

Recently, I saw some art of human Inuyasha saving Kagome, which I am all here for! But then it gave me an idea. What if the roles were reversed? Enter bamf Kagome in all of her well-deserved glory.

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

Kagome slid the door open slightly, peeking out into the dark woods from Sango's doorway for what she felt was maybe the eighteenth time within the last thirty minutes. Nothing. Still nothing. Tilting her head back, she eyed the night sky hoping the moon would have appeared overheard since she last poked her head out. Nothing.

Sliding the door shut, she went back to the pacing she'd been doing since the sun set. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest while she flicked her thumb nail back and forth over the nail of her middle finger, creating a clicking sound that did little to distract her.

"I take it they still aren't back?" Sango asked, setting her sleeping one year old down in his makeshift, bedside bassinet and peering nervously over her shoulder at Kagome.

Kagome could only shake her head in response, knowing her nerves were getting the better of her, and thankful all of Sango's children were asleep so they wouldn't pick up on the unsettling emotions that practically oozed from her own pores.

Earlier today, a man from a village a couple of hours out requested the help of Miroku and Inuyasha. A demon had begun reeking havoc on the village the night before, and was holding all of the women hostage while literally devouring the men. A demon like this wasn't something the hanyou and monk were strangers to, being well-known demon slayers now, so they obliged and followed the villager back. Kagome couldn't help but feel surprised when Inuyasha agreed to help so easily. Normally on the night of the new moon he was hesitant to leave the house, let alone agree to slay a demon. And when she asked if he was sure, Inuyasha had promised to be back before sundown.

Sundown was hours ago.

Kagome felt sick, her stomach feeling heavy in her abdomen. Something was wrong. Something was definitely wrong. And it only agitated her more that Sango appeared so calm when her husband was missing, too.

"They'll be back." Sango placed a light hand on her friend's shoulder, stopping her from her pacing in an attempt to soothe her nerves. "Maybe there was just a small set back. Maybe they decided to stay the night in the village and they'll return by morning."

"On an average night, I might take your word for it. But it's a new moon, and I've got a bad feeling." Kagome's arms dropped to her sides, her voice coming out small and breathy.

Sango felt her heart give an aggressive thud, the anxiety beginning to boil up and spill over. She'd felt something was off all night, and not just because the priestess in her home was a nervous wreck. For hours now, she'd just been telling herself to be patient. Miroku and Inuyasha had run late on numerous occasions before, and have even had to stay in distant villages overnight due to set backs and late hours. Something was different tonight though, and Sango couldn't believe she hadn't realized what tonight was. More importantly, Sango couldn't believe Inuyasha agreed to help out on such a compromising occasion.

"I... I should go after them." Kagome stated, peering back over to the closed door and then to the corner of the room where her bow and arrows sat leaning against the wall.

"Kagome, no. Not alone. It's too dangerous! If something did happen to them, what's to say the same won't happen to you?!" The mother gripped Kagome's hand as she tried to move past, shaking her head with pleading eyes.

"There's no guarantees, Sango, but I have to try."

"What if they're on their way back?"

"Then we'll cross paths."

"Maybe I should go, instead."

"No." Kagome held a tone of finality to her friend's suggestion, letting her know there was no room for compromise. While she was, no doubt, the better fighter of the two, it was more important that Sango was kept safe. "You have three babies here, and they need you. Their mother. I'll be back, don't worry." She gave her friend's hand a firm squeeze before peeling out of Sango's hold. "And I'll have our husbands in tow."

Sango watched the priestess hastily pick up her weapons and strap them over her shoulder with wide eyes. Her friend's bravery still surprised her at times. It was nothing she was unfamiliar with, of course. All that time spent traveling and fighting demons, monsters, and sometimes even humans showed Sango just how bold the girl from the future was. Kagome gave Sango one last look and she nodded an affirmation towards her close friend as she slid the door shut behind her, the cool air of the night that blew through brushing against her clammy skin.

This could all be in her head. Kagome was more than willing to admit that this wouldn't be the first time her imagination has gotten the better of her during tense situations, but she couldn't just sit around and wait to see if she was wrong. The longer she waited, the more danger Inuyasha could be in.

Picking up speed, her jog turned into a run. She'd been to the village they'd gone to save before, accompanying Kaede on more that one trip during the recent, bitter winter to aid the sick. She remembered the way, and it was at least a two hour walk, but she could cut that down some if she ran.

The angry feeling in the pit of her stomach seeded deeper and grew worse, churning her insides with an overwhelming amount of anxiety. As much as she wanted to stop running, to double over from the unsettling nausea and puke, she couldn't. She wouldn't allow herself to yet. Something's wrong. Something's wrong. The chanting wouldn't stop in her head, repeating the words over and over no matter how hard she tried to reassure herself that this was Inuyasha, for goodness sake! She'd seen him take on Tokajin in his human form, fall from a cliff, and live! He may be rash, but he's smart. He knows how to survive.

Kagome's breathing was jagged, lungs burning from each inhale of the crisp night air that dragged through her wind pipes. Kagome braced herself against the closest tree, trying to steady her muscles as her legs shook beneath her, her hair sticking to her slick and sweaty forehead and cheeks. Her run had become a sprint as she began to sense a menacing demonic aura nearby. It was even stronger from where she stood now, not far ahead. She could hear a few panicked villagers off in the distance, letting her know that her hunch wasn't wrong; the fight never ended.

Her sides cramped as she went to take a step away from the tree, her body begging her to rest a bit longer. Then she heard it. The heart-shattering, chill-inducing scream that caused everything inside and around Kagome to stop while painfully twisting at every organ within her abdomen.

Inuyasha.

She stood there a moment as the gears in her brain slowly began working again, her lungs remembering how to inhale and exhale, her muscles regaining movement, the blood once again coursing through her veins with an extra dousing of something hot. Fire, maybe. No, hotter. Lava.

It seared through her body so quickly, her subconscious walk towards the blood curdling scream that had long ended but still rang in her ears shifted and she was suddenly racing forward. The adrenaline silenced her body's plead for rest with the overwhelming need to make sure her husband was safe. Alive.

"INUYASHA!"

Shit. Shit. Shit. This was bad. This was really fucking bad. Inuyasha crawled his way to a half seated position, the hot blood that leaked from the wound in his waist oozing over his calloused fingers as he applied painful pressure to it.

Tetsusaiga was useless. Miroku's pretty messed up, so he's useless. And Inuyasha was human. He was as useless as they get.

"You taste disgusting. Just as I'd imagine a puny dog would taste like." The demon remarked with his boisterous voice, spitting Inuyasha's blood off to the side.

"Yeah, well that's what ya get for biting me, asshole!" He winced as he yelled, clutching his side harder.

"Inu- yasha... Try- not to- anta- gonize it- please." Miroku's words came out with each short, shaky breath. He was bleeding from his temple and the arm his wind tunnel used to plague, and he'd lost quite a bit of blood already.

"He bit me, Miroku." Inuyasha responded, still in disbelief that it had happened to begin with. He'd come across many breeds of demons before, some more animalistic than others. But not a single one of those deliberately attempted to take a chunk out of him as a midnight snack. Luckily, the thing found him gross and pulled away before actually taking a piece of Inuyasha with him, and while he'd normally be offended by being told he tasted disgusting, he'd take his wins any way he could get them tonight.

Still, the bite inflicted a good amount of damage and Inuyasha was losing blood now. A lot of it. Not to mention, the demon's claws had gotten him pretty good on both his right leg and left arm.

This was really fucking bad and he still had several hours until sunrise.

Inuyasha's vision was beginning to blur as he tried to sit up more, his head growing light and limbs trembling. Fuck this human body. Fuck the night of the new moon!

"Since I'd rather not make a half breed like you a meal, especially while you're in such pitiful form, I'll just kill you for sport and eat your friend as a tasty, little snack after."

"Keh. And you called me disgusting." Inuyasha rolled his dark eyes, peeling his aching body from the ground, fighting against the unsteadiness of his muscles and standing up. "You'd eat that guy as a snack? I've spoken to his wife and she definitely wouldn't call him a treat."

"Inuyasha! What good does taunting him do?" Miroku grimaced, coming to stand beside him and gripping his injured arm.

"Time management?" He asked more than stated, a small shrug coming from his shoulders. He didn't quite know what his plan was. In fact, he'd hoped that if everyone kept talking, he'd be able to figure something out. But time was as limited as options.

"Do you plan on telling jokes until sunrise? We'll both bleed out by then. We need to get to safety." Miroku was talking under his breath, but it was clear how serious he was.

"You run if you like, monk, but I ain't going anywhere! You know I can take it! I'm built differently than you!" Inuyasha scoffed, tossing his ebony hair back and off his shoulder as he gave Miroku a deadly look then directed it back towards the demon.

"I hate to break it to you, my friend, but all those other times you survived were pure luck. You know as well as I that tonight you're no different from me."

The fluid leaking from his waist and causing his robes to stick to his sensitive wound was proof enough that the monk was right about him not being so different. But he was wrong about luck. Inuyasha and luck didn't mix too well. Hell, if he was lucky, he wouldn't be running into trouble on the one night of the month where he didn't have his demonic powers. Or in his case tonight, willingly running towards the trouble like a dumbass. Still, he survived all those previous battles because he kept fighting. Which was exactly what he planned to do tonight.

"Are you finished?" the creature growled, all evidence of amusement vanishing suddenly, his lips curling back to bear his fangs in a fearsome snarl. "You two interrupted my meal earlier, let my women escape, and I've grown hungry. The villagers weren't smart enough to leave the village while they could, and I can smell a delicious human snooping around nearby. It's time for this to end so that I may feast." He licked his lips, remnants of the blood from the man he was eating earlier still staining his face.

This was a bad time for Inuyasha's legs to threaten to give in. The demon was digging its claws into the dirt, the front of him dipping down as his rear raised up in what he could only guess was preparation to pounce, and as soon as he was airborne Inuyasha was going to have to get the hell out of there. His legs were just going to have to hang on for a little while longer.

Actually, a lot longer.

Inuyasha and Miroku dove in opposite directions to avoid the giant cat, Inuyasha rolling a couple more times as the demon swiped his way, groaning loudly in pain as rocks in the dirt collided with his wounds.

A flash of purple light caught his attention is it flew passed his face and landed just at the creature's paws, the demon barely jumping back in time and coming to a halt. The purple glow faded away slowly, revealing an arrow. A sacred arrow.

What? Inuyasha sat up quickly, ignoring the blinding pain from his movement and whipped his head in the direction the arrow came from to see Kagome standing at the edge of the trees, another arrow already lined up with her bow and aimed directly at the offending demon. Her brow was furrowed together, lips curled downward in a tight frown as she held her tense position, cheeks pink and glowing with sweat.

If looks could kill...

"Don't think my aim was off!" Kagome shouted, pulling her arrow back an inch further. "I wanted your attention!”

"A woman coming to me? Well, that's a first. Usually I have to chase them down, but I'll admit, it's nice to be chased for once." The cat snickered, lips curling up in a menacing smile.

Kagome angled her bow slightly downward and released the arrow, the arrowhead slicing through the skin of his front leg causing the demon to roar and jump back again, his dark red blood staining his dirty, golden fur.

"Shut up!" Kagome demanded, snagging another arrow from her quiver and lining it up perfectly to aim at him.

Her demand rang so clearly that even Inuyasha's hanging jaw snapped shut, eyes wide from her ferocious demeanor. He'd never seen her like this before. Not even in their worst battles they'd fought together did she direct such a fearsome scowl towards their enemies, let alone make them bleed to show how serious she was.

Kagome looked the demon up and down. Yellow fur covered it from head to toe, a bushy, sandy colored mane with darker tips adorning his head and neck. Rounded ears poked out of the top of his head as Inuyasha's did on any other night, and several cuts littered his body from what she could only guess was his ongoing fight with the two men.

A lion? Well this was a first. She couldn't say she was altogether surprised at the new encounter, nor was she particularly eager to be taking on what was known as the king of the jungle in her day and age, but none of that mattered right now. She was here and she'd already challenged him, a weird sense of blind fury numbing her fear. There was absolutely no way she was about to back down now.

"You'll pay for that, bitch!" He growled, lips peeling back to reveal his large set of sharp teeth and his muzzle wrinkling viciously into a snarl. "I'll kill you!"

"Not if I kill you first." Kagome muttered to only herself, watching as the lion poised itself to launch in her direction, pulling her arrow back until the string of the bow was as taut as possible.

"Kagome, get the hell out of here!" Her husband bellowed, trying to stand but quickly falling back to his hands and knees.

She waited another moment, watched as the demon's front legs lowered and his hind legs kicked at the ground sending him speeding in her direction, waited another very, very short moment, then released her arrow. The sacred aura surrounded the sharp weapon from head to tail and as it impaled the left side of the chest of her enemy, the force and power sent him flying backwards, smacking against the ground near Miroku's feet, and twitching slightly from the purification.

"Miroku, hurry!" She shouted, sprinting over to Inuyasha to assess the damage his human form had taken.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

She ignored him and continued looking him over while their enemy was down, noticing the blood that came from a shoulder wound, disappeared underneath his robe of the fire rat, and reappeared at his hands, dripping down the tips of his fingers. His dark grey eyes bore into her waiting for some sort of response, but she didn't care. Now was definitely not the time to catch up with one another. Especially not when she noticed the tear in the side of his robe and the amount of crimson liquid that put the color of his clothing to shame.

The monk quickly joined at Kagome's side looking exhausted and battered, covered in dirt and blood of his own.

"Do you think you can get him out of here, Miroku? The villagers are hiding not too far off, I saw them on my way over. Get them to help you guys." She could hear the lion demon stirring, no doubt itching to rise and attack again.

"You're an idiot if you think I'm leaving you here to fight that bastard alone!"

"And you're an idiot if you think you can help me!" Kagome snapped, gesturing to his current state.

"No, Kagome! Out of the question! I'm not leaving you!"

"Uh, guys..." Miroku was staring at the risen demon, the beast emitting a deep growl as it hurled its body over towards the three. Miroku quickly snagged Inuyasha out of the way, a pained yelp coming from the half-demon as they rolled, and Kagome leapt in the opposite direction, curling her body and landing in a kneel. She snatched an arrow from the quiver once more and positioned it quickly, launching it into his shoulder.

He roared again as her purification powers shot into his system, his muscles suddenly trembling under his weight but then quickly steadying. If it were possible, she swore his snarl grew more vicious and his anger spiked. She could feel his demonic power surging, growing stronger when it should have been growing weaker with the arrows she'd shot at him.

That's not good.

His red eyes slowly peeled up from the ground and found her, searing into her own, a rush of fear racing through her.

"Lady Kagome, you must get out of there!" Miroku shouted, but it was too late.

The lion demon raced at her and she only had enough time to merely drop her bow and shield herself with her left arm. He snatched her forearm within his teeth, the white, scorching pain bringing a deafening scream out of Kagome. He bit down a little harder, another scream burning at her throat, hot liquid spilling from her flesh and in between his teeth. The jungle cat stepped forward bringing the priestess fully to her knees, and with another step she was inching backwards, trying desperately to follow his lead to avoid further pain. And then he was on top of her, arm still in his mouth, his snarl still just as vicious as her blood dripped down onto her chest.

"Kagome!" Inuyasha yelled, kicking and fighting to get out of Miroku's hold. His body grew hot, heart pounding erratically in his chest as a number of emotions punched the air from his lungs. "No! Let go of me, Miroku! Kagome, no! I'm coming! Hang on! LET GO OF ME!"

"You would only make things worse, Inuyasha! She can handle this!" The monk scolded, his grip on the half-demon-turned-human only wavering slightly from the sting of his own wound in his arm. "You have to trust her! You're too hurt to fight!"

Kagome fought the urge to attempt to pry away his teeth from her forearm and instead shot her free hand behind her to snatch an arrow, unable to stop the small whimpering sounds that escaped her lips as any sort of movement sent electric waves directly to the limb currently stuck in the lion's jaw. More hot blood poured down onto her chest and neck, following gravity's lead and trickling down around the curve of her collar bone and throat. Just as his tongue lapped at her arm from behind his teeth she positioned the arrow in her fingers, clutched it tight, and with a powerful yell she stabbed it into the side of his neck.

Kagome was terrified that the demon's reaction would be to bite down even harder, potentially snapping her arm, but luckily he roared monstrously and she was freed. Quickly she peeled herself out from under him, scurrying backwards until she'd put a few feet of distance between them, clutching at her wound while desperately avoiding the sight of it. She knew the moment she paid mind to it was the moment she'd crumble from the pain.

The lion still stood, three arrows now sticking out from his body. She imagined he couldn't speak if he wanted to with the arrow lodged in his throat, but he was still strong enough to stand which made her fear that he was probably still strong enough to fight. She eyed her bow behind him, knowing her chances of retrieving it were slim to none from her position, and she'd really like to avoid tempting him into taking another part of her body between his teeth.

Kagome noticed Inuyasha in the distance. He was pale and drained, still squirming in their friend's hold to be free but too weak to put up an actual fight. Even from where she stood, she could see his black hair matted with a mixture of dirt and blood, sticking to the sides of his cheeks and neck. His dark eyes were half-lidded as he fought in Miroku's arms, cursing and calling out to her.

An overwhelming amount of rage shot through Kagome at the sight of her critically wounded husband, clouding her mind, and without thinking she leapt forward, her fist colliding with the beasts face once, twice, and the third time with enough force to send it stumbling backwards, tripping over its own feet and landing on the ground.

Everything stopped. It was quiet. Inuyasha wasn't fighting anymore and Miroku was hardly hanging on to him. The lion demon's breathing had slowed tremendously, Kagome feeling her powers of purification finally beginning to subdue the creature little-by-little. She was able to grab her bow before he was on his feet again, a searing pain shooting through her arm as she gripped the weapon and pulled one of her remaining arrows taut in the string. A low rumble came from the lion, the sound hardly noticeable but there nonetheless, as he rose once more with his head hung weakly.

"One more of these and you're done." Kagome warned as he took a few, slow steps toward her.

As if to irritate her, he chuckled. It was pained and hushed, but he kept laughing all the while taking one more step forward. "You couldn't kill me if you tried."

"Maybe you're right." Kagome agreed, lowering her bow in front of her, her shaking forearm finding alleviation as she loosened her hold. "Maybe I'm wasting my arrows. Maybe I'm not. Maybe I'm stronger than you're too proud to believe. Maybe one of us dies here tonight, or maybe you leave and I spare your life."

His thick brow furrowed together, a deep growl coming from the pit of his stomach and vibrating even her own core. Kagome returned his challenging stare, brown eyes colliding with red.

"Leave?" His pained voice queried, half laughing.

"Leave." Kagome answered flatly.

He squinted his eyes into a menacing glare, his snout wrinkling as his blood-stained lips twitched upward to reveal just the sharp tips of his fangs, his ruthless claws digging into the earth. Unwavering, Kagome stood up taller dropping the arrow from her fingers and letting it bounce against the ground before stilling, understanding that she'd have to give in before his pride allowed him to. "Leave." She repeated, her tone coming off as more of an order than the last confirmation she'd given.

His demeanor changed, suddenly. The fierce scowl he'd given her softened, muscles relaxing and jaw unclenching. With a huff from his nose and a shake of his thick mane, he abruptly turned around and began walking towards the dense edge of the forest. Pressing a heavy sigh from her lungs, Kagome dropped her shoulders, the tension that kept her body tight and focused beginning to leave her body as her muscles became shaky, fingers twitching along her bow.

"Kagome," she heard the low, weak moan, quickly snapping both hers and the lion's attention over to the two injured men.

"No," she pleaded, sensing the immediate danger as the beast emitted another rumble in their direction. She should have known the lion's surrender was too easy. She shouldn't have ignored the gut-wrenching feeling that screamed at her for lowering her weapons.

"No." She was a little louder, a little more desperate that time as she watched his path quickly change, watched the intention in his bright red eyes spark and his speed begin to pick up, Miroku and Inuyasha fumbling over their spent, damaged bodies to try and stand. That same, bubbling, excruciatingly hot blood that fueled her before returned with a fury as she pulled her last remaining arrow out of the quiver by its feathers, positioned the items to point directly ahead of the beast's path, pulling the tail back to align with her cheek and line of sight.

"NO!" She screamed, releasing her hold as the monster leapt towards the men, his jaw opened wide, powerful teeth bared.

A flash of purple light blinded them all as Kagome crumpled under her own weight, her energy drastically depleted from the amount of power she'd just used, falling to her hands and knees as she watched the arrow pierce the demon's rib cage and send him flying away from his prey. The silence was nearly unbearable, neither of the three breathing until the rise and fall of the fallen lion's chest finally ceased completely, his demonic aura dissipating into the crisp night air.

"Inuyasha." Kagome muttered under her breath, as if to bring herself back to the present. Back to the entire reason she'd come this far in the first place. "Inuyasha!"

The priestess forced herself up and ran over to the two black-haired men, skidding onto her knees as she reached Inuyasha's side. He was barely able to hold himself up in a sitting position anymore, leaning back onto one elbow as his other hand pressed firmly against the bite wound in his side. His face had paled considerably since the last time she'd noted, breaths coming in shallow and weak. His eyebrows were furrowed together and she could tell that if he just had an ounce more of strength he'd be chewing her out for putting herself in so much danger for their sake.

Miroku looked around them, peering into the dark forest trees and the wrecked buildings and huts that surrounded them as Kagome urged her husband to lay back and took over applying pressure to his still-bleeding wound repeating over and over you'll be okay, you'll be okay even if it was only to convince herself. "Please!" Miroku shouted, "If any villagers remain, we need help!"

Kagome bit back the sob that swelled in her throat, tears stinging at her eyes as they burned a trail down her cheeks. She heard the distant sound of rustling grow louder and closer as several people emerged from the darkness, but couldn't bring herself to look away from her hanyou's half-lidded, vacant eyes. His mouth had opened to say something as he lifted a hand to brush his thumb across her cheek, wiping away a stray tear, but nothing came out. Kagome, herself, was only capable of repeating you'll be okay, you're alright, I promise, you'll be okay, everything's okay now over and over and over until his eyes closed and heavy, forceful hands peeled her away from his battered body.

-----------

He felt heavy. Achy. Like he'd been laying in one position for far too long and his muscles were punishing him for the laziness. Even opening his eyes felt like a chore as he repeatedly blinked away the sleep until his golden eyes were able to focus on the familiar ceiling above him, sturdy beams crossing into a high arch. The blankets were pulled up to his shoulders yet he could still slightly feel the chill of the early morning drafting through his home.

Wait... Home?

He slowly pulled himself into a seated position, hissing all the while from the dull pain in his side. His nose registered the lingering scents around him. Miroku and Sango had been here, though Kaede's scent was stronger in the air indicating that she had just recently left. He took a deep inhale of the most important scent of them all, the incredibly sweet aroma of Kagome calming every confused nerve in his body.

Kagome.

His ear flicked as a sleepy sigh came from behind him, turning his head to see his wife had fallen asleep sitting against the wall next to where his head once was. His mind began racing, remembering the events that had taken place before he'd lost consciousness. The new moon, the beast, and his wife showing up out of fucking nowhere. That explained the pain in his side. He must have been really messed up if it didn't heal at least almost completely when he transformed back into a half demon.

His eyes looked her body up and down. Her legs were curled next to her, her back slouched slightly and her head resting half on the wall, half on her own shoulder. She was wearing clean robes now, wincing as he recalled her chest and neck splattered in her own blood. Inuyasha growled and clenched his fists at the memory, his claws biting into the palms of his hands. Her sleeve was pulled upward revealing her left forearm bandaged from elbow to wrist. It instantly ignited a fire in the pit of Inuyasha's core, remembering the sight of that wretched demon taking a bite out of his woman. His eyes flicked over to her right hand, her fingers resting on her lap and her knuckles a soft shade of red and purple, causing him to grimace. No, this shouldn't have happened to her.

While his basic instincts knew she must have stayed up all night taking care of him and she was exhausted and needed the rest, his demon instincts that needed answers and needed her to know just how much of an idiot she was overpowered them. He crawled off the futon, cursing under his breath at the damn pain in his waist, kneeling just in front of Kagome. He wanted to shake her awake, but the feeling disappeared just as quickly as it arose and he couldn't bring himself to be even close to that cruel to his wife no matter how angry he was. His calloused thumb grazed her soft cheek, momentarily grateful that nothing had happened to blemish her beautiful face.

"Hey," he whispered, easing her out of sleep, still slowly moving his finger back and fourth over her cheek. "Wake up, Kagome."

She blinked open her eyes at the feeling of heat against her face, a low and deep voice bringing her attention away from her dream and back to her chilly hut. It was morning. How long had she been asleep? Couldn't have been long. The soothing hand now began brushing her raven strands out of her face and behind her ear and then combing through the length of her hair with his fingers.

"Inuyasha?" Her voice was small and gentle from sleep, smiling gently as he continued stroking her hair. Her half demon was finally up, his clean, silver hair falling over his bare shoulders. She sat up straight, pushing him back a little to see that the bandages wrapped around his torso were still clean and his wound hadn't reopened, sighing back into a slight slouch from the relief that it was finally closing. "Thank goodness."

"How long- wait, no, how did-”

"You’ve been out for about two days now. The villagers could only help us out so much. They had injured of their own to tend to and homes to rebuild, so they helped me get you and Miroku back here yesterday. How are you feeling?" She asked, reaching forward and trailing her fingers around the curve of his shoulder where a nasty cut had been just before he transformed back.

"Me!? Kagome, how are you feeling?" Inuyasha pressed, snatching her injured arm up in his hands, immediately regretting the unnecessary force he'd just used.

She tried to hide her wince, a small gasp escaping her lips. "I'm okay, Inuyasha. Really."

"He bit you, Kagome!" He argued, gently raising her arm a little higher as if to remind her just why it was bandaged. Did nobody see a problem with being bitten anymore?

"He bit you too!" She took her arm back and gestured towards his own bandages.

"I'm a half demon, remember? I can take it!"

"Are you kidding me?" Kagome could feel something bubbling up inside of her. She couldn't tell if it was anger or exasperation or anxiety or sadness or whatever other emotion that could possible arise at the moment, but it was beginning to boil over and she could feel the heat settle into her cheeks. "You weren't a half demon when you were bitten! You know better than I that you need to be careful during one night of the month! One night! Your regenerative powers won't work in your favor if you don't survive as a human!" She flailed her arms as she yelled, tears stinging at her eyes and spilling over.

"Keh. I'm fine. Why did you come? You know what I do for a living! It's dangerous, Kagome!"

"You promised to be home before sundown!"

"That doesn't mean come after me if I'm not!"

"So I'm supposed to just sit around and wait!?"

"That's exactly what you're supposed to do!"

"You could have died, Inuyasha!"

"I wouldn't have died." Inuyasha scoffed, rolling his golden eyes and crossing his arms over his bare chest.

"You could have died!" Kagome cried, hastily trying and failing to wipe the tears that fell with her sleeves as more and more spilled from her eyes. She shut them tight, hoping that would close the gates, but she just couldn't stop. "If you had kept fighting, or if I had been any later, or if I wasn't able to shoot in time when the demon jumped at you because I lowered my damn defenses!" She hit her fist against the floor, the emphasis on her curse shocking Inuyasha even further.

Inuyasha felt himself soften immediately, her salty tears burning his nose as he felt himself slouch his shoulders in defeat. He couldn't stand seeing Kagome this way. She is the light of his life, and the sobs she let out in between a few words had his heart crumbling away. His fingers slowly wrapped around her small fist that was braced against the floor, bringing it into his lap as he attempted to gently rub out the sting she must have felt from punching the wood. His fingers brushed against her bruised knuckles and he gave in to the urgent need to hold Kagome to his chest. He scooted himself forward, brought his legs to cross in front of him, then gave the hand he held a good tug in his direction that she didn't resist to follow.

He adjusted her in his lap, her legs draped over one of his while she buried her tear stained face into the crook of his neck. He let Kagome cry for as long as she needed to, holding her as firmly as he could without crushing her and pushing up her pants so he could graze his fingertips against the soft skin of her legs. Finally, he felt her relax and the salty scent began to fade away, her trembling body stilling against his hard, steady one.

"I'm sorry, Kagome. You're right. Shit could have gone south, and it's because of you that I'm alive. You fought so well and I'm so damn proud of you, baby." He was subconsciously swaying her back and forth, the curve of her body fitting so perfectly into his. "I'm not gonna lie, even I was afraid of you."

She giggled and it was music to his ears. She pulled back to look at him, wiping away the remaining evidence of her breakdown with her sleeves again then shook her head.

"No, I- I put my guard down too soon. He was so close to getting you at the end."

"But you stopped him. That's what matters." Inuyasha replied, bringing her bruised hand up to his lips and brushing a kiss against each injured knuckle.

Kagome smiled, her heart giving a small flutter as he soothed her worries away. He was right. What mattered in the end was she managed to kill the demon and save her husband. She was sitting in his lap, relishing in his body heat and the small kisses he was now placing along her bandaged forearm, starting from her outer arm, making his way inwards, and ending at her inner wrist making sure to place a few extra tender kisses along the barely exposed, delicate skin. Him knowing full and well that it was a sensitive area that she loved to have touched, and her knowing full and well that she wouldn't be able to enjoy this wonderful moment if she hadn't have pulled through in the nick of time.

"Oh and by the way," Inuyasha began, letting his fingers wander down her legs and underneath her hakama once again. "I wasn't kidding when I said you scared the shit out of me. Could you let me know if I ever piss you off that bad so I can get the hell out of firing range?"

Kagome shot him a questioning look, cocking an eyebrow up at him. "What are you talking about?" The hanyou brought her bruised knuckles into her line of sight, a dumbfounded expression on his face.

"You punched a demon in the face, Kagome." He explained, a look of shock causing his eyes to go wide as he remembered her throwing each powerful punch, realizing that maybe he was rubbing off on her in all the wrong ways. "I'm not looking to be on the other end of that!"

Kagome gave a small smile and giggled again. "Oh," she started, climbing out of Inuyasha's lap to stand, pulling herself into a long stretch then sighing and gently rubbing one of her husband's ears.

"We'll see." She teased, walking away to get breakfast started for her hanyou.

"I'm serious, Kagome!" He shouted after her, worry causing his brow to furrow. She replied with a simple, happy hum as she exited their hut for ingredients. Inuyasha sighed heavily, rolling his eyes and standing slowly to make sure not to further aggravate his side.

"We aren't done here!" He yelled, following her out to their yard. He heard her melodic giggle from the side of their home, turning to see her peeking around the corner.

"You mean the big, bad half demon isn't actually afraid of me and my fists of fury?" She played, walking over to him and pretending to throw a punch, pushing his cheek with a soft fist.

"Shut up." Inuyasha droned, rolling his amber eyes and grasping the offending wrist. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against his chest, heat burning along his cheeks. "Listen, I don't like that you put yourself in so much danger. Please, just trust me to come back to you okay? I will always come back to you."

"And I will always come after you." She replied, wrapping her arms around his neck, her fingers threading in the long strands at his nape and standing on the tips of her toes to place a small kiss against his lips. "You don't have to like it, but that's how we work. That's how we've always worked, Inuyasha."

He shook his head and made an aggravated noise under his breath, but instead of countering her with another argument that she no doubt expected, he pressed his lips firmly against her own, gripping her waist tight in an attempt to pull her even closer. "Yeah, yeah. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.” He sighed, bending down and passionately kissing his wife again, swallowing her giggle and drinking her in.