#you will all see a lot more of these little lads soon enough

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

"Cuhut it out- you guys!" "Nu-uh, not until you're all perked up first! You don't want those gym challengers meetin' with an ol' mopey leader, do ya?" "Whitney's right, dear friend. No need to hide that beautiful smile of yours, alright?~"

What it takes to cheer up Johto's beloved ghost boy 👻💕

[newfoundstateof]

but she fell in love with an english man | b.b. x reader

summary: Academy friends drag Benedict to a tavern to watch Irish fiddle player!reader perform. He buys her a drink. But who can play a fiddle and drink a pint at the same time?

word count: 1.2k

warnings: suggestive but none

a/n: definitely not inspired by those tiktoks of dirty talk bar maids at ren faires, who said that???

“They are spectacular,” Rupert Norton declared with an arm slung over Benedict’s shoulder.

The rest of the Royal Academy students hummed in agreement. Already drunk from the party they left minutes ago, a small group of them stumbled down the cobbled streets of Soho. Earlier that night, news broke that a band that visited a few weeks before Benedict enrolled at the Academy had returned to much anticipation. In an instant, pipes were dropped, coats were gathered, and boots were marching to The Intrepid Fox tavern.

“They’re from Ireland,” someone said.

“I’ve never danced so much in my life,” another added.

“And the fiddle player is quite easy on the eyes,” Rupert slurred into Benedict’s ear. “Try and buy her a drink if you can. That usually gets her attention.”

Benedict laughed. “I’m just here to enjoy the music. As should all of you scoundrels.”

Once inside the tavern, a few of the men beelined to the bar to order whiskey shots for the fiddle player despite the empty stage in the corner. Benedict simply took a seat at the bar, observing the growing crowd. The band’s reputation must have preceded them, as he was soon shoulder to shoulder with the eager fans. But for the next twenty minutes, only chatter filled the room.

“They always like to keep you waiting,” Rupert grumbled into his ale. “But it’s worth it, I promise.”

“I don’t mind,” Benedict smiled. “It’s good people watch-”

The room erupted into cheering, and he turned toward the stage. Sure enough, two men climbed the small wooden platform. One carried a fiddle, the other a flute. The room roared even louder when you emerged with your fiddle, waving a good-natured hand to the audience. Your smile was wide and disarming. Your gaze was equally piercing. Looking at the gleam in your eyes, Benedict knew just how aware you were of your control over the room. Soon the clapping died down, and every soul waited with bated breath to what you would say.

A scrawny kitchen hand hurried up to you and set a tray of shots down on a small barrel.

“Wow,” you breathed. “All this for little old me?”

Benedict found himself chuckling with everyone. As you threw a shot back, his stomach dropped. You were certainly not like the young ladies of the ton. 

“This crowd is mighty impressive, isn’t it, boys?” you asked your bandmates as you all started tuning your instruments. “We appreciate you for coming out. If you don’t know us already, the lad on the flute is Johnny. My fellow friend on the fiddle is Patrick. And I’m Y/N. I have a favor to ask of you all… From now until the last of you sorry lot leave this building, I hereby decree this an Irish pub! That means we will be clapping along to the songs, singing if you know the words, and if you are so inclined, I would love to see some dancing tonight.”

Someone in the audience whistled, evoking more cheers.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” you grinned.

The trio launched into Seven Drunken Nights, a popular jig even Benedict knew. Though his classmates were rowdily singing along, he could only stare at you. Johnny and Patrick generally kept to their places on stage, but you swayed across, drawing your bow theatrically compared to Patrick’s controlled movements. He was the main vocalist, but during the wife’s lines in the song, you sang with the crowd. 

“Ah, you’re drunk, you’re drunk, you silly ol’ fool. Still, you cannot see, that’s a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me!”

Benedict couldn’t decide if you were a better fiddle player or singer, you were impeccable at both. But without a doubt, you were the best at simply putting on a show. You encouraged people to dance along as you skipped across the stage. Benedict could only imagine how taxing it was for you. Dancing, singing, and playing an instrument all while not breaking a sweat. He eyed the tray of shots, turned to the nearest bartender, and ordered something more refreshing for you.

As you strung out the last note of Seven Drunken Nights, the same kitchen hand ran the mug of beer up to your tray. You sighed to yourself.

“Which one of you did this?” you cried out, lifting the mug high.

Heads spun every which way. Benedict froze. Was liquor the only appropriate drink to tip a musician? He wasn’t sure, he’d never been to something like this. Awkwardly, he coughed and raised his hand.

Your eyes found him in the sea of faces, and you smirked. “Don’t be shy, come here!”

 Rupert clapped Benedict on the back. “Don’t screw this up, Bridgerton. She might go home with you tonight.”

Though he had been with many women and dangerously close with a few men, you still intimidated him somehow. Nothing intimate had been on his mind before Rupert’s comment, but now his heart skipped a few beats at just the thought of it. Benedict snaked through the crowd, trying to read the expression on your face. But all you looked was smug, and he wouldn’t be surprised if you poured the ale on his head. 

“Finally,” you breathed as he stood before you. “One of you buys a lady a real drink!”

He exhaled in relief.

“I’m afraid I’m quite thirsty though,” you pout, getting down on one knee. The stage was barely a foot off the ground, putting your face directly in front of Benedict’s wide shoulders. “And we need to get on with the next song, but I don’t have enough hands. Would you help me, good sir?”

Without waiting for his response, you shoved the drink in his hands and looked up to the ceiling. Before Benedict could blink, you were poising your instrument and drawing out a note with your bandmates following suit.

“We’re lucky I don’t sing in this one,” you smile, giving him a pointed look. “Get on with it, now. I’m parched.”

Never one to argue with a lady, Benedict slowly tilted the rim of the glass to your lips and poured the liquid steadily down your throat. You looked up through your lashes at him, daring him to look away. But he didn’t. Only when some of the ale dripped down your chin and onto your bodice did his gaze break yours.

“Should I stop?” he asked.

You shook your head, “No,” as much as you could with your lips around the glass.

As you neared the last dregs, your head tilted back more and more to get it all. The eroticism of it all was not lost on Benedict, especially as you swallowed the last gulp and moaned audibly. The growing friction in the front of his pants was no help. But once the glass was finished, you rose to your feet and sent him off with a wink. As you spun to the other side of the stage, the hem of your skirt brushed his groin and he mindlessly reached for the fabric. But you were gone. In a trance, Benedict walked backward to his friends at the bar, adjusting himself. 

“Has she done that before,” he coughed.

“I’ve never seen that before,” Rupert crowed. “And I’ve seen them perform at least five times since I started at the Academy.”

“You’ve got to talk to her after, Bridgerton,” someone urged.

“Can I come along?” a voice teased.

“You’re the luckiest bastard on earth right now,” another sighed.

Across the room, you caught him starring and blew him a quick kiss.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Luckiest bastard on earth.”

[gremlinmodetweeker]

riffing off socially awkward deeply anxious König, do you think he would do better digitally? chatting with someone he met online or someone who streams an obscure game? you have a lovely relationship with him and then before you meet in person he's like so. i'm. very. awkward. as a real person. i might not. talk a lot. you'll be carrying the conversation, don't take it personally. you have a captive audience for ANY topic. anything. you want. and why is it going to be a/b/o's spn origins

Okay yes this absolutely. I can totally write something for that. I hope this story suffices!

Now, I have no idea what you mean by the omegaverse, but I could try making an omegaverse!König if you’d like. I do not understand by spn omegaverse origins. Please feel free to either respond here or ask in my inbox. It should be open??? Tell me if it isn’t.

Anyways, onto the story! More below the cut.

König Prefers Quiet Time

König is a voracious reader, so he’s rather verbose and eloquent when online. His messages are witty, insightful, yet practical and grounded. He’s quick to become your best online friend. After all, he’s so well-spoken! He writes beautiful paragraphs that are easy and amusing to read. It’s rare to find such a delightful person online.

And he’s so quick to win over your heart. Whenever he can be, he there’s for you. He’ll take pictures and videos of sights on deployment or jot down little stories to tell you when he can. Sometimes he can drop off the face of the earth, but he’ll be back online soon enough and messaging you about how his latest mission went and what he did (within reason, can’t give away secrets).

Every time he comes back online, you know you’re in for a good time. Whether it’s him complaining about teammates, or having to argue about directions with a local, he’s got fantastic (yet terribly awkward) stories about his days. He always says he’s so shy and hates social situations, and sure he sometimes sounds a bit strange when he recounts the stories, but they're so fun that you don't really take in how it would look from an outside perspective. Sure, he sounds a bit dorky in these stories, but still so eloquent! He’s got this little way of describing things with abstract metaphors that make you smile and wish you were there by his side.

It took a lot to convince him to have a relationship with you. It’s not that he doesn’t like you, it’s that you ask to meet up in person. He tells you that he’s happy to meet you, but then why does he suddenly have more missions? He’s so punctual, but he missed his flight? When he goes on about having a stubbed toe, you have to put your foot down. You want to see him, and that’s final.

Begrudgingly, he books a vacation with you.

When you go to pick him up from the airport, the first thing that stands out about him is how tall he is. Then how big. You didn’t think they made people in that size. This guy has Shaquille O’Neil running for his money. Like, how? And then you realize that he’s crouching down to make himself look smaller. It’s insanity. At the very least, he’s easy to pick out in a crowd, what with his hood and all. You do worry about him fitting in the car, though.

So you go up to him, and then he sees you and he looks nothing but elated. It’s a beautiful moment between you two. In that hectic airport, with people calling in many languages and bags squeaking and the cars outside honking and revving their engines, it’s perfectly silent and beautiful. It’s a wonderful moment that you think you’ll cherish until you die.

The next moment is where it all falls apart.

He accidentally drops his bag and it spills everywhere. He scrambles to pick it up and he keeps looking around with wide eyes of terror so you take pity on the poor lad and lean down to help. He then promptly stands up and cracks the crown of his head against your nose and now your nose is bleeding and oh no he dropped his bag again and now he’s apologizing and then he’s rushing to the bathroom and you’re left with the realization that you fell in love with an absolute mess. 

By the time he’s back, your nose has stopped bleeding and you’re packing his belongings back into his pack. He tries to silently offer you tissues, so you take them and wipe your nose tenderly, but when you make a joke about it he doesn’t say anything. Odd, but maybe he’s just a bit frazzled.

You’re driving back home when he finally says his first words to you besides ‘hi’, ‘sorry’ and ‘oh no’.

“Thank you,” he says as he stares at the road ahead.

“What, for the drive?” you laugh, “it’s no problem! I mean, it’s not too bad. It’s about an hour’s drive, but I’m fine with that!”

König says nothing, just nods as you speak. You’re starting to worry that you picked up the wrong person. Where was the confident and friendly man you spoke to online? Where was his friendly joking? At least you now understand his awkward and amusing stories he told you, because even though you love him, you can’t help but feel terribly awkward. If he’s this bad with you, you can only imagine how bad it is with others.

You were prepared for someone who was going to talk your ear off, but you felt like you just picked up a skinwalker instead. Was he even blinking? You can’t tell. He looks shell-shocked as he gazes off into the distance.

“So, um, how was the flight?” you ask with a wide smile.

“Gut.”

Anything more? No? Nothing more. Well, that’s helpful.

“Did they give you anything to eat on the flight? Are you hungry?” you ask, hoping to pry more than a couple words out of him.

“I ate,” he says quietly.

You nod and bite your lip. So this is what it was going to be like?

You take him into your home. For the entire night he refuses to take a step outside.

By the time noon rolls around the next day, you decide to take the initiative and knock on his door.

“Hey, König?” you call.

You get a hum from behind the door.

“Can I come in?” you ask nervously.

There’s a pause, then a hiss and a curse, then the door opens.

“Thanks,” you whisper as you squeeze by him, but he doesn't move to let you in any easier.

König sits delicately on the edge of the bed while you sit on a stool across from him. You look at each other for a few moments before you crack.

“Am I… Am I not what you thought I’d be?” you ask nervously.

König tilts his head as he narrows his eyebrows.

“I mean, just…” you sigh, “you talked so much online, but you’ve barely said a word since I picked you up from the airport. Are you okay? Is there something wrong?”

You hesitate for a moment, before you tack on, “Is there something wrong with us?”

König’s eyes slowly widen before he shakes his head quickly, the fabric swinging like a dog shaking after a dip in a lake.

“Nein, you are…” he gestures towards you with one hand, “you are perfect. It’s just… Ah…”

You brace yourself.

“I am not good at talking,” he admits.

You deflate. That’s it? He’s not good at talking?

“But you’re fine online,” you point out.

“Ja, but this is… It is different,” he sighs, “I am not good at talking to people in person. It is.. Scary. I do not like to talk much.”

You nod as you listen carefully.

“So…” you rub your thumb over your kneecap, “would you like me to do most of the talking for us? Would that make things easier for you?”

König nodded quickly.

You laugh as you feel your shoulders relax.

“Great. I think I can do that.”

From then on, the visit is wonderful. Now that you know that König just isn’t great at talking in person, it’s a delight to talk to him. Sometimes you think you talk at him, but you realize pretty quickly that he’s listening attentively to everything you say. He’s a delight to speak to. If you ever lose your train of thought, he’s quick to help you get it back so he can listen to you further.

You realize pretty quickly that he worries too much. When you take him out to places, he’s nervous and flighty. The louder and more chaotic, the worse his social anxiety gets. As such, you find yourself going to more quiet areas. You chill and relax in quiet cafes, go to the aquarium at night, even play some games at a board game cafe in the middle of the day, when there’s nobody else there.

He’s a friendly man, all things considered. You also quickly learn the basis of his awkward stories.

You’re at a grocery store when you see it in action.

“Oh my God you’re so tall!” a woman looks up at your boyfriend with wide eyes.

König barely turns to acknowledge her, but he gives her a curt nod.

“Can you, like, help me with something?” she asks eagerly.

König looks down at you, then back to the woman.

“What is it?” his voice is sharply cold, and you can see the woman wince.

“Well, um, there’s this thing on the top shelves, and I was hoping you could get it for me?” she says, a bit nervously.

“What is it?” he’s somehow worse than last time.

“Um, uh, I can show it to you?” she offers meekly.

“I need to know what it is,” König practically tears her head off with how brutal he sounds.

You grab his hand and squeeze slightly, but it seems like it’s all going downhill too quickly.

“It’s-”

König turns to face her abruptly and she’s stumbling back before scurrying off. König watches her go, then turns to you.

“Why did she go?” he asks innocently. You can hardly believe him.

“König…” you start slowly, “is that how you usually speak to strangers?”

He thinks for a moment, then nods.

“König I think I know why you think people hate you.”

König’s eyebrows raise up for a moment, “You do?”

You nod, and give him a brief explanation. You can see his brain doing somersaults in his head, practically melting out his ears as his entire world view is shattered before him. Before he can respond properly, the woman is coming back with security in tow.

It’s no wonder König has so many interesting awkward stories.

[jaylienpotter]

Part 2 of Let them be | 1k words

< Part 1 | Part 3 >

Let boys wear skirts

James had started a protest against the school rules not allowing females to wear trousers. How? By breaking the dress code. Of course Sirius was going to follow up and also put on a skirt. His brother Reggie desperately needed to change uniforms.

What he wasn't expecting was how it felt. The fabric was nice and it was much more freeing, refreshing. But there was something else. He felt different. He felt pretty. I mean, he was always gorgeous. But not like this. He was looking at himself in the bathroom mirror, turning to see the skirt from different angles. He put his long black strands behind his ears and smiled. Sirius didn't know what it meant. He wasn't like Regulus. He wasn't trans. He liked being a bloke. He never felt discomfort with his body. The knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts.

"Sorry I'm going!" Taking the towel and his pajamas, he opened the door to a Moony in a skirt. Obviously they had all agreed to it but he just looked so awkward and cute, with high socks to hide the scars. But Remus would look good in anything. At least in Padfoot's eyes.

Lupin didn't budge when the bathroom got free. He stared, looked his friend up and down.

"What?" Did he look bad? Did he wear the skirt upside down? Did he just look ridiculous with his hair like that, which made him look even more feminine?

"I- uh- nothing, I just… It suits you." Was Moony blushing? Did Sirius only have to wear a skirt to catch his crush's attention this whole time?

"You think?" Pads did a little twirl. The skirt was a little short but what did he care?

"Yeah. You look… Pretty."

"Thanks. I kind of like it, actually…"

"I see. Uh Pads, can I use the toilet?" Sirius stepped aside and ever so slightly glanced at the boy's arse. Lupin looked a lot more modest. It made sense with his 'problem', as well as anxiety and low self confidence in general. Black didn't expect him to follow the protest. The four of them were in, though. Even Wormtail. Lily's skirt was slightly tight but he said it was fine since it was for a good cause. He could use a spell to largen it but none of them had mastered those yet. They'd end up making a skirt big enough for the squid.

There were whistles from the Gryffindor table as soon as he walked in for breakfast. Mckinnon was hyping her friend as usual.

"Look at her!" She was joking, of course. But it hit Sirius. He felt a knot in his (her?) stomach. Why did he like that? He was fine with male pronouns, never had a problem. Still didn't. Shrugging it off, the drama queen paraded to the table, followed by an anxious werewolf.

"Don't worry Moons. If anyone looks I'll just be flagrant and get the attention off you."

"Thanks Pads." He smiled, his cheeks still slightly tainted. Perhaps he was too hot from the high socks and long sleeves in the hot weather?

"Good morning, lads! How are we feeling? I see Padfoot is confident, great. Wormy is getting used to it. Moony, you good, mate?" Potter was such a mum. People would think that Remus being the most sensible out of the four, he would have the responsible, more parent-like role. To be quite frank, he didn't give a shit. If his friends made a fool of themselves he'd laugh. Prick. Hot prick, though.

"Yeah." He looked to his left and back at Prongs. "I'm okay."

The day went as expected, they got detention quite soon, the first class was thankfully History of Magic and their ghost of a teacher didn't even know he was dead, let alone what his students were wearing. They received plenty of comments. Some cheering, mostly from girls, some were snarky, and some of the students called them girls, which Black didn't seem to mind at all. And of course, there were lots of stares.

The Marauders walked together everywhere, to be stronger and avoid being attacked. James was incredible, swagging around the castle with his head held high.

"Hey, Prongs? Can I ask you something?" It wasn't until they were in their pajamas that Sirius gained the courage to talk about it.

"Of course."

"How did you feel wearing a skirt? Were you uncomfortable? Did you like it?"

"Well…" Potter twisted his mouth to the side, as he always did when thinking. "It was fine, I suppose. I wouldn't say I liked it, I wouldn't choose to wear one. But for the cause it didn't bother me."

"Hm." Pads's gaze was distant. He had time to figure it out, they were going to keep wearing skirts until a teacher heard their complaints. At least Sirius and James were.

The next day, Marlene joined the protest, borrowing Sirius's trousers that were oversized for her. The lads had gone downstairs and she was in their dorm with Black, getting ready. They had no problem changing in front of each other since both were gay.

"You seem to be enjoying the skirt." That tone meant she was onto something. The fucker could always read Sirius. Even better than James, at times.

"Yeah… I suppose so. Makes me feel pretty."

"Just pretty or more like a girl?" Bloody hell, she had figured it out even before Sirius.

"I'm not sure…" Marlene put on her tie, done getting ready.

"Do you want to borrow my makeup? It might help." Pads turned around nervously yet excitedly.

"You sure?"

"Yeah mate. You also have to repaint your nails, they're all chipped. Wait here, I'll get my stuff."

"Thanks Marls…" She winked and left, coming back a few minutes later.

"I also brought a small mirror. Sit, we're having a beauty session." It was funny. Marlene wasn't that feminine. She didn't wear makeup all that often and when she did, it was more of a rock punk look with smudged black eyes. It wasn't anything like Evans or Mary, which were a lot more elegant and traditional.

"You don't want to eat first?"

"I'd rather get you all prepped up to see people's faces when you show up all girly."

And the faces did not disappoint. Black and Mckinnon walked into the Great Hall with wrapped arms. She had her hair in a messy bun, her shirt not fully buttoned up with her tie loose, the trousers covering her feet and a bit of a black smudged eyeshadow. Sirius, on the other hand, wore the skirt from the previous day, which was slightly short but still covered up everything, the shirt also not buttoned up all the way as per usual, and the red and gold tie undone, sitting on his shoulders. Some black nail polish and winged eyeliner, too. He couldn't deny it, it felt pretty good.

The best face was Remus's, who literally dropped his toast. The pink cheeks were definitely not from the weather. It sparked a little hope in Padfoot, that maybe his dreams of being with his best friend would come true. However, Moony would probably forget about it as soon as the protest ended.

It took a while until that happened. Pads and Prongs wore skirts for around two weeks (and some of the girls wore pants - Marlene, Lily, Mary, Dorcas, Pandora), eventually Reg felt comfortable enough to join, he had never felt so good at Hogwarts.

Mcgonagall was the one who spoke up about it, saying it was getting ridiculously out of hand and that she saw no problem with girls wearing trousers 'But for the love of Merlin, boys, put on some trousers'.

Dumbledore agreed to change the rules, as the protest was distracting the students' focus during classes. Fully aware the Gryffindors weren't going to back down.

Regulus was ecstatic and thanked all of them. Sirius was happy for his brother but he was going to miss the skirt. In this journey of self discovery, he had come to the conclusion that he felt both masculine and feminine, some days more than others. All the pronouns felt right, but he did prefer being called pretty over handsome. Maybe Sirius would be able to wear a skirt again someday. Until then, makeup was the only way of expression. He would also miss Moony's glances, he ought to come up with a new way to lure the Gryffindor boy.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Family Forever.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

authors note - this is a part two to this blurb, so feel free to read that before engaging in this one!!

━━━━━━━━┛ 💫 ┗━━━━━━━━

━━━━━━━━┓ 💫 ┏━━━━━━━━

liked by username, username and 4,319 others

harryandynupdates, (Y/N) spotted in London yesterday with a baby bump!

tagged, yourinstagram

view all comments.

username, I’m sorry but what?

username, you can’t just make assumptions, she may not even be pregnant 🤷‍♀️

username, Harry’s going to be a dad!!

username, I just passed out I think

username, I think I’m going to be sick

username, I mean it’s about time I guess

username, she’s glowing!

username, totally ignoring the caption but do you think she’s on the phone to Harry?

username, omds, imagine!

username, imagine she’s not pregnant 😭

username, in the first photo there’s definitely something

username, Harry being a dad is what all you lot have always wanted but now it could actually be happening your all upset…don’t make sense to me

username, exactly!

username, PREACH !!

liked by yourinstagram, mamatwist and 16 others

harrysfinsta, not long now. ❤️🍼

tagged, yourinstagram

view all comments.

niallsfinsta, still can’t believe your going to be a dad

harrysfinsta, your the odd one out now mate

yourinstagram, ❤️❤️

harrysfinsta, I adore you.❤️

mamatwist, can’t wait to finally hold them💞

harrysfinsta, nor can i.

louissfinsta, almost there lad !

harrysfinsta, time couldn’t come fast enough

taylorsfinsta, the nursery looks amazing you guys, so excited to meet the little one !!

harrysfinsta, @yourinstagram designed it, I just got told what to do

yourinstagram, hey!!

liamsfinsta, prepare for the sleep less nights 😂

harrysfinsta, nothing can prepare me for those

gemmasfinsta, can’t believe I’m finally going to be an aunty, not like I’ve been waiting years,

harrysfinsta, you’ve been waiting years? what about me?!

zaynsfinsta, Khai is so excited to meet them.

harrysfinsta, so am I 🥹

sarahsfinsta , you’ll be joining the crew so soon

harrysfinsta, it’s about damn time

liked by username, username and and 9,381 other

enews, Harry Styles seen carrying a baby carrier after exiting a hospital yesterday in London after reports his wife (Y/N) was expecting!

click the link in our bio to find out more 📎

tagged, harrystyles

view all comments.

username, never knew something like this would make me feel a certain way

username, where’s our (Y/N)?

username, most likely already in the car🤷‍♀️

username, DILF

username, adopt me <3

username, sorry I know I should be fanfirling over the fact he’s now got a baby but that fit is amazing!

username, he does look exceptionally good for a new dad

username, I don’t know how to feel

username, it’s official, he’s one hundred off the market

username, is it a girl or a boy?

username, like wtf?! he just wants to go home with his wife and baby and there’s paps taking his pictures

username, you can see the aggravation on his face

username, they don’t deserve this

username, this is making me really emotional 🥹

username, I’m so happy for him!

liked by niallhoran, taylorswift and 19,318,410 others

harrystyles, Chester Robin-Harry Styles.

tagged, yourinstagram

view all comments.

username, YAYAYAYAYA

username, oh my goodness, I’m so happy

username, the name..the name 🥹

annetwist, magical ❤️

harrystyles, it really was.

(liked by yourinstagram)

username, he had a little boy?

username, this is not what I was expecting to here this year

taylorswift, so happy for you!

username, (Y/N) is the kickers girl ever to say that Harry Styles is her baby daddy

yourinstagram, our little chester 💙

harrystyles, ours forever.

username, BOY DAD BOY DAD

louist91, enjoy lad!

username, chester like the cheese?

username, that’s cheddar you dumb ass

(liked by harrystyles)

(liked by yourinstagram)

liked by username, username and 104,183 others

dailymail, You know it’s not the same As It Was! Harry Styles (29) has become a father for the first time with long time partner (Y/N) after announcing the beautiful name of there newborn son.

view all comments.

username, this is one of the best things over actually ever heard in my life

username, can someone tell me why I’m crying please?

username, because Harry’s finally a dad

username, great now I’m crying even more

username, Chester is the cutest name I’ve ever heard

username, they could have used a better photo tbf

username, no cos fr

username, sobbing

username, that photo of them 😭

username, the fact that Chester has Harry in his name

username, ever the narcissist

username, and robin!

username, now when I read that my eye’s definitely watered

username, DILF DILF DILF

liked by username, username and 5,613 others

harryandynupdates, Harry and (Y/N) spotted going on a walk with baby Chester today in London!

tagged, yourinstagram, harrystyles

view all comments.

username, this is actually the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life

username, the wave😭

username, I’m melting over here

username, he looks like such a good dad already

username, can’t get over the fact he’s officially A dilf

username, she looks so good even though she only just gave birth

username, the wedding ring on his hand 😭😭

username, her smile makes me smile

username, no cause same

username, she’s always got a smile on her face I’ve noticed!

username, can i join this family chat please and thanks 🙏

username, seeing him with the stroller is actually making me weak

username, my insides are melting 🥹

liked by yourinstagram, gemmastyles and 643,190 others

annetwist, grandma duties have officially started.❤️🍼👶🏼

view all comments.

username, okay, this is actually adorable

username, they’re covering up his face?

username, they can do what they want 👍

username, Harry’s to famous for his kids faces to be blurred

username, Chester’s a new born, let them live there lives!

username, your smile 🥹🥹

username, do you think he looks like H?

username, we like to think the styles genes are strong.

username, having your parents look like Harry and (Y/N) means your bound to be cute

username, a grandma at the age of 55, your winning!

username, the way your looking at him 🫶😭

yourinstagram, the best grandma there is. ❤️

annetwist, making me tear up over here!

Harry Styles sat comfortably in his London home, surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds of his morning routine. Today, however, there was an added buzz in the air as he prepared to join a Zoom interview with two popular television personalities, Holly Willoughby and Alison Hammond.

As the virtual call connected, Harry found himself greeted by the beaming faces of Holly and Alison, who wasted no time in introducing him to their viewers.

"Good morning, everyone! We have a very special guest with us today. It's none other than the incredibly talented and stylish Harry Styles!" Holly exclaimed, her enthusiasm evident.

"Hello, Harry! How are you doing today?" Alison chimed in, her warm smile reaching through the screen.

Harry smiled back, feeling instantly at ease. "I'm doing great, thank you! It's lovely to be here with both of you."

The conversation flowed naturally as Holly and Alison delved into various topics, from Harry's music career to his personal life. Eventually, the subject of Harry's newborn baby came up, sparking the curiosity of both hosts.

"So, Harry," Holly began, leaning in with interest, "we've heard the wonderful news about your new addition to the family. How has it been adjusting to life with a newborn?"

Harry chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with joy. "Oh, it's been an absolute whirlwind, I must say. Sleepless nights and all, but it's also the most magical experience. I'm absolutely besotted."

Alison grinned, leaning closer to her screen. "And what about the name? We're dying to know! What did you and your wife decide to call your little one?"

Harry leaned back in his chair, adopting a playful expression. "Well, you see, my wife and I are both from Manchester. We wanted to pay homage to our roots, but we couldn't exactly name our son Manchester, now could we?"

Holly and Alison erupted into laughter, clearly enjoying Harry's wit.

"So," Harry continued, "we thought of shortening the name and getting rid of the man, hence the reason for Chester, it just felt right.”

Holly nodded, still smiling. "Absolutely! Chester Styles has a certain charm to it. Well, we wish you and your family all the love and happiness, Harry."

"Thank you so much," Harry replied warmly. "We're over the moon, and little Chester is already the light of our lives."

The virtual interview continued with Holly and Alison. They were eager to delve deeper into Harry Styles' life as a new father and couldn't resist asking about the speculation surrounding Chester's appearance.

"Harry, we must say, the world is abuzz with curiosity about your son Chester," Holly remarked, a twinkle of excitement in her eyes. "Fans are dying to know, does he resemble you or your wife?"

Harry grinned, appreciating their enthusiasm. "Ah, the great mystery of Chester's looks! I'll let you in on a secret – everyone says he looks like me."

Alison chuckled playfully. "Well, Harry, I guess we'll just have to take your word for it. I'm sure he's a little heartbreaker in the making!"

Harry chuckled in agreement. "Oh, he certainly has that effect on people already, even without showing his face. He's got the charm, I can tell you that."

The conversation continued, with Harry sharing endearing anecdotes about his experiences as a new parent, the sleepless nights, and the overwhelming love he felt for his son. He spoke passionately about creating a nurturing and inclusive environment for Chester, instilling values of kindness and acceptance from a young age.

"I want Chester to grow up in a world where he feels safe to be himself," Harry emphasized. "It's essential to me that he knows he is loved unconditionally and supported in whatever he chooses to pursue. He may be just a tiny baby now, but I can already see his spirit shining through."

Holly and Alison nodded, genuinely moved by Harry's heartfelt words. "That's truly beautiful, Harry," Holly said softly. "We can only imagine the wonderful bond you share as a family."

During the continuation of the virtual interview, Holly and Alison decided to inquire about the birth of Harry Styles' son, delving deeper into the experiences and challenges surrounding that significant moment in his life. As they ventured into the topic, a heaviness settled over Harry, and his smile gradually faded, replaced by a veil of apprehension.

"Harry, we would like to hear about your wife's birth experience," Holly gently probed, her tone laced with empathy. "Could you share with us the details of what transpired?"

Harry's eyes shifted, his voice trembling slightly as he began to recount the distressing memories. "It was an incredibly arduous journey, to say the least. The birth was a grueling battle filled with unforeseen obstacles."

Alison leaned in closer, her concern palpable. "Is everything alright, Harry? You seem burdened by the weight of it all."

A somber nod escaped Harry as he mustered the strength to reveal the truth. "Well, truth be told, everything didn't go as planned. It was an excruciating two-day labor, and in the end, my wife had to undergo an emergency C-section due to life-threatening complications."

Holly's brows furrowed, and her voice softened, almost a whisper. "Could you elaborate on the complications, Harry? We're here to listen."

Harry's breath caught, the anguish present in his voice. "The complications were tumultuous, to put it mildly. There was placental abruption, a harrowing occurrence where the placenta detaches from the uterine wall prematurely, leading to severe bleeding and endangering both my wife and our unborn child."

Alison gasped softly, her eyes brimming with empathy. "That sounds incredibly distressing, Harry. How did you manage to navigate such a traumatic experience?"

A quiver in his voice, Harry pressed on, his words thick with emotion. "We were thrust into a whirlwind of chaos. The medical team scrambled to stabilize my wife's condition, performing an emergency cesarean section to save both her life and that of our precious child."

A pause, heavy with anguish, hung in the air as Harry gathered himself to continue. "But even after Chester's arrival, the complications persisted. He was whisked away to the neonatal intensive care unit, or NICU, due to his premature birth and the trauma he endured during delivery."

Holly and Alison exchanged glances, their expressions etched with sympathy and concern. "Harry, it must have been an agonizing ordeal. How did you and your wife find the strength to endure?"

Harry's voice quivered as he delved deeper into the painful memories. "We clung to hope, even in the darkest moments. The NICU became our second home, where we witnessed our fragile child hooked up to monitors, enduring myriad treatments, battling complications such as respiratory distress syndrome and jaundice."

The weight of the medical terms hung heavy in the conversation, reflecting the gravity of the situation. Harry's voice cracked as he continued, "Days stretched into endless nights as we watched our little one fight for his life, clinging to the tender threads of fragile existence."

Holly and Alison's eyes welled with tears, their hearts heavy with the weight of Harry's anguished story. They expressed their deepest admiration for Harry's resilience and the unwavering love he and his wife exhibited during this harrowing journey.

"Harry, if it's not too difficult, could you share more about the complications your wife faced during the birth our viewers at home are interested in knowing that there’s a bright side during these difficult times.” Holly asked gently, her voice filled with empathy.

Harry took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the floor as he prepared to reveal the gravity of the situation. "It was a devastating cascade of events. Due to the placental abruption and the subsequent blood loss, my wife's condition deteriorated rapidly. The medical team made the difficult decision to place her in a medically induced coma for four days."

A collective gasp escaped both Holly and Alison, their eyes widening in shock. "Four days in a coma?" Alison whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Harry nodded, his voice trembling with the weight of the memories. "Yes, she fought for her life. The doctors worked tirelessly to stabilize her, administering blood transfusions and conducting multiple procedures to control the bleeding."

Silence hung in the air as the hosts absorbed the gravity of the situation, their hearts heavy with empathy for Harry and his wife. Finally, Holly spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "How did you cope with such an overwhelming situation, Harry?"

A pained expression crossed Harry's face as he opened up about the darkest moments of his life. "It felt like an abyss of despair. I was torn between staying strong for my wife and grappling with my own fears. I leaned on our families and friends for support, seeking solace in their unwavering presence."

He continued, his voice filled with a mix of anguish and gratitude. "The medical team provided exceptional care, explaining each step of the process and guiding us through the darkest nights. They became our pillars of strength, assuring us that we were not alone."

Harry's voice wavered as he recounted the arduous journey. "When my wife finally emerged from the coma, she had to confront the physical and emotional toll it had taken. The road to recovery was long and challenging, but we held onto the glimmer of hope that Chester's arrival had brought us."

Holly and Alison listened intently, their hearts aching for the pain Harry and his wife endured. They commended Harry's resilience and the strength that emanated from their shared experience.

As the virtual interview continued, delving into the deeply personal experiences of Harry Styles and his family, a tender moment unfolded. Harry's eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and adoration as he contemplated bringing his son, Chester, into the interview. He felt a warmth in his heart, a desire to share this precious part of his life, even while maintaining their privacy.

With a warm smile, Harry excused himself briefly, leaving the frame of the camera. Moments later, he reappeared, cradling Chester in his arms. The room seemed to light up with an invisible glow as he carefully held his son, ensuring his tiny face remained hidden from view.

Holly and Alison couldn't contain their delight as they caught a glimpse of the precious bundle in Harry's arms. "Oh, Harry, he's absolutely adorable!" Holly exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine affection.

Alison nodded enthusiastically, her eyes brimming with warmth. "He's a true heart-stealer, isn't he? We can see the love radiating from you, Harry."

A soft chuckle escaped Harry as he gently rocked Chester, careful to shield his face. "He's my little ray of sunshine, that's for sure. Though we prefer to keep his privacy protected, I couldn't resist bringing him along to share in this special moment."

The hosts cooed and awwed, completely captivated by the enchanting scene before them. The interview took on a lighter, more whimsical tone as Harry continued to speak, his voice infused with tenderness.

"You know, Chester has brought so much joy into our lives," Harry shared, a touch of awe in his voice. "Every day, I'm amazed by his little quirks and the way he captures everyone's hearts without even showing his face. He has this incredible way of making me smile, even in the toughest moments."

Holly's eyes shimmered with emotion as she commented, "It's evident how deeply you cherish him, Harry. Your love for him is palpable, even without revealing his sweet face to the world."

With a soft laugh, Harry nodded. "Absolutely. We want to give him the freedom to grow up away from the spotlight, to carve out his own path. But I couldn't resist sharing this glimpse of him with you all. He's my biggest source of inspiration and happiness."

As the interview drew to a close, Harry's arms instinctively tightened around Chester, an unspoken bond between father and son. He thanked Holly and Alison for their understanding and support, grateful for the opportunity to share this special moment.

With a final wave and a tender smile, Harry bid farewell, taking Chester with him as they embarked on the next chapter of their day. The love and warmth they shared lingered in the air, leaving behind a lasting impression of pure joy and adoration.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

v i e w a l l c o m m e n t s

username, okay this was way sadder then I thought it would be

(371 likes)

username, hearing Harry sound so vulnerable is hearting my heart in so many ways

(128 likes)

username, on a positive note the reason they named Chester that was actually so cute

(649 likes)

username, im so glad that our (y/n) is alright

(237 likes)

username, he looked so emotional when he was speaking about the birth 🥹

(419 likes)

username, when he brought Chester into the interview my heart combusted!

(1.2k likes)

username, I know it’s the hosts job to ask these questions but the look on his face when he had to answer absolutely breaks me😭

(631 likes)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

liked by annetwist, niallhoran and 39 others

yourinstagram, the styles twins <3

tagged, harrystyles

view all comments.

annetwist, my babies ❤️❤️

yourinstagram, they really are adorable!

taylorswift, his fathers twin literally

yourinstagram, you wouldn’t think I carried him for nine months 😭😭

louist91, woah my mans got a strong game

yourinstagram, he really has!

harrystyles, hey!

pillowpersonpp, chester is the cutest little bubba I’ve ever seen!!

mitchrowland, what about our son?

pillowpersonpp, with an exception of course 🫶

harrystyles, the styles genes are strong! 💪

yourinstagram, they really are. 🥹

niallhoran, I can’t believe I’ve not met him yet, I’m getting serious fomo over here guys!

yourinstagram, we’ll have to arrange something!!

harrystyles, don’t you dare corrupt my kid, Irish!

liked by yourinstagram, liampayne and 9,319,641 others

harrystyles, Saccharine Lullabies. September 5th.

view all comments

username, oh yeah baby!

username, this is giving album of the year vibes and it’s not even been released yet!

username, a new album?

username, it feels like only yesterday Harry’s House was released

username, sobbing

username, is that supposed to be (Y/N) and Chester on the front?

yourinstagram, ❤️❤️

(liked by harrystyles)

username, wtf?

username, this album is going to be beautiful!

annetwist, so excited for you H!

(liked by harrystyles)

username, YEAH BABY YEAH BABY YEAH BABY

username, lullabies?! omg an album dedicated to Chester!

username, this album is going to change lives I can just tell!

━━━━━━━━┛ 💫 ┗━━━━━━━━

━━━━━━━━┓ 💫 ┏━━━━━━━━

[mountttmase]

Safe Place

Note - before reading please click here so you can introduce yourself to Nala 🐶 I hope you enjoy and I’d really love it if you could leave me some feedback 🩷

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 3.6k

Warnings - fluff and smut

‘You sure you’ve got hold of her Ollie?’ You asked, watching as your dog Nala pulled on the lead. She was still just a puppy, albeit a large one, and Ollie was pretty big for an eight year old but you were still trying to train Nala to come back at the sound of her name and you didn’t need her running off and getting lost.

‘I got her’ he told you, walking a few steps in front of you so he could try and catch up with Tilly who was currently just ahead on her trike seeing how fast she could go, leaving you and Mason to walk hand in hand just behind them.

Family dog walks were a new thing for the five of you, but you made sure at least once a week to go out to the local nature park for a long walk and some family time. Thankfully the kids seemed to love it and it did Mason some good to get out with you all for some fresh air to clear his head.

‘Look at this I took in the car’ he suddenly mumbled, pulling his phone out of his pocket and shoving the screen in your face.

It was a video of Tilly in her car seat, Nala laying next to her with her head on Tilly’s lap and your heart gave a squeeze as you watched her tiny hand scratch over Nala’s head in a comforting way.

‘Ohhh, that’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen’ you cried, dropping your bottom lip as you looked up to Mason and his cheeky smile. ‘They’re gonna be best friends I know it’

‘It’s so sweet isn’t it?’ he laughed, pulling you in front of him gently so he could wrap his arms around your waist as you walked. It was a little bit awkward at first but you got into the rhythm of it and soon enough his lips were pressing soft kisses to your temple. ‘I really want another one’ he told you softly, causing your face to a scrunch up in confusion.

‘Another dog? We’ve only just got Nala and as cute as she is she’s a lot of work’

‘Not a dog, you plum’ he laughed, squeezing you a little tighter and nestling his nose into your hair. ‘A baby’

You stopped in your tracks, body freezing at his words before you looked up at him like he’d gone mad. ‘A baby? Seriously Mase, what the hell?’ You laughed.

‘Look at them’ he told you, nodding forward to Ollie and Tilly who were just up ahead and you felt your heart thump as you watched them laugh and play with Nala together. ‘I know I’m biased but I think we make the most beautiful babies’

‘We do’ you giggled, letting him push you forward so you’d start walking again and you couldn’t ignore the way you shivered when he placed his hands flat against your tummy.

‘And you know I think you’re sexy as hell when you’re pregnant. Think of all the sex we get to have too’ he teased, trying to convince you but it wasn’t like the pair of you weren’t having sex often. If anything you were surprised at how you could still barely keep your hands off of each other even after all this time. ‘I just miss looking after a little one you know? One at the lads in the fitness team has just had a baby and it made me want another one. Plus Tilly starts school soon and Ollie is basically a man now’ he joked, squeezing your sides as the pair of you laughed. ‘But you know I’d never force you. It’s your body and if it’s too much I get it’ he reassured you. ‘I just got a bit broody in the back of the car and thought I’d mention it’

It’s not that you didn’t want another baby, agreeing with him that you missed having a little one around to watch grow and he was right. With Tilly off to school soon it’s not like you wouldn’t have the time and as each second passed you were seeming becoming more convinced.

‘Not not to lay it on thick or anything but when I put Tilly to bed the other night she was asking when the new baby was coming’

‘What?’ You laughed, looking over at her peddling as fast as her little legs would take her and you couldn’t help but smile.

‘Ollie told her there’s supposed to be a baby every four years. Now she’s four she’s asking when the next ones coming so she can pick out some toys for them’ he told you softly, feeling tears spring in your eyes at how silly and adorable they were.

‘Nala, come on’ you suddenly heard, looking up to see Ollie pulling on her lead as she laid on the path. Clearly she was fed up of walking now so with a quick kiss to your cheek, Mason ran up ahead to lift her from the ground to carry her for a little bit. You watched with a smile as he placed kisses all over her head and she licked his cheek. ‘Come on Mummy’ Ollie called, holding his hand out for you to take and you smiled before hurrying up to grab it.

You loved days like this. Everything felt so wholesome and perfect. Your two beautiful babies laughing and having fun whilst the love of your life played with your new fur baby. It was enough to get you emotional but you held it together for the rest of the walk. Nala finally found her walking legs again towards the end, chasing after Tilly on her trike as Ollie made sure they were safe and you felt your whole body feel warm.

‘Mase?’ You called quietly, griping his bicep as you linked your arms together. ‘I’ve been thinking’

‘Oh yeah? What’s up?’

‘I think I might like a other one too’ you whispered, looking up at him with an excited smile that he mirrored before lifting you up by your thighs so he could spin you around.

‘Really? You really want one?’

‘I don’t see the harm in trying’ you laughed before he kissed you heavily.

‘Thank you, baby. Honestly I can’t tell you how this means to me’ he laughed, holding you as tight as he could. ‘Even if it doesn’t happen just… I love you so much’ he told you, his glossy eyes touching your heart and you left a soft kiss on his forehead before connecting your lips again.

After the park you had a nail appointment, Mason promising he’d have dinner and everything sorted by the time you got home yet when you did, you walked into a suspiciously quiet house. You called Masons name as you walk the through, finding him in the kitchen stirring away yet Nala wasn’t in her bed and the kids were nowhere to be seen.

‘What’s going on? Where is everyone?’ You asked, but you should of know from his cheeky smile that he was up to something. ‘What did you do?’

‘Nothing’ he laughed, his arms in the air in mock surrender before making grabby hands in your direction. You gave in instantly, walking round to his side where he pulled you into his arms and dropped a kiss on your forehead. ‘I told Lewis we had a last minute dinner event we’ve had to go to so he’s taken Nala and the kids for the night’

‘Mason’ you laughed, squeezing his sides as you looked up to his cheeky smile. ‘You don’t hang about do you?’

‘Well I was thinking I can’t remember the last time we were alone for a bit’ he laughed, his hands snaking lower so he could pinch your bum lightly. ‘And you know me, I like to start getting prepared early. No point hanging about’ he winked before leaning down to press his lips against yours. ‘Dinner won’t be for a little while. Why don’t you go have a shower and get changed?’ He offered quietly so you agreed and scurried off. Taking a quick shower before rifling through your underwear drawer.

It had been a while since you’d looked in here, not thinking about what your underwear looked like for the longest time but thankfully Mason seemed to love your granny pants so you didn’t feel the need to squeeze into these anymore.

Your fished out your old favourite set, black and laced with most of it being made up of mesh that you could see right through and you remembered feeling incredible in it. Now however you weren’t sure if you liked the look of the person staring back at you. Your boobs only just about contained as they spilled from the top, the underwear not sitting how it used to and you felt your heart sink at your reflection.

You didn’t have time to do anything about it though as you could hear Mason bounding up the stairs in search of you so you quickly threw on one of his shirts and some cycling shorts before he got a glimpse of you.

‘Foods nearly ready’ he smiled, his face soft as he took you in before reaching his hand out for you to take. The energy between you had shifted slightly and his usually warm and caring self had been amplified ten fold. His touches that little bit softer and sweeter and you melted into him when he planted a kiss on your lips as he sat down.

The dinner conversation was kept light, you knew he wanted to but he never bought up your conversation from earlier. Instead taking a small walk down memory lane as he recounted how he felt when he first saw you, not imagining you’d give him the time of day let alone be sat here with him now, two kids and a dog later.

You both decided to head to bed soon after, knowing where the night was heading and after a quick shower himself he joined you under the sheets in just his boxers. His head on your chest as his hand snuck under your top to gently stroke your waist and the butterflies erupted in your tummy immediately. It was crazy how he still made you feel like a school girl with the most simple of touches, having to burry your head in his hair as you were overcome with silliness.

His hand moved further up your body, fingers dancing over your chest until he felt the lace under his fingers and his eyes were on you in an instant. The next this you knew his head was fully under your shirt so he could take a look for himself, you forgetting for a moment what you had on underneath but as soon as you felt him press a kiss to your right boob the memory came flying back and you jumped away from him.

‘Hey, where’s the fire’ he laughed, reaching for you to pull you back but you shuffled further away from him. You couldn’t see the hurt behind his eyes but you were too embarrassed about what you looked like to let him see. ‘Baby, what’s wrong?’

‘Nothing, I…’ you started, a deep breath falling from your lips as you finally looked at him properly and you knew there was no point hiding anything from him. ‘I wanted to look good for you so I put some of my nice underwear on. They don’t look quite as good as I remember and I was gonna change but I forgot. I’m just a bit embarrassed that’s all’ you confessed quietly before you felt him shuffle up so he was sat against the headboard.

‘Come here, Mumma’ he whispered, holding out his hands for you to take before placing you in his lap, straddling his thighs as his hands settled on your waist. You always felt extra soft for him when he called you that as you knew he did it out of love and pride for the fact you were the mother of his children so you let him position you how he wanted before looking up at him. ‘I love you so much, you know that right?’ he mumbled, lips on your neck as he trailed them down to leave hot kisses over your collar bones. ‘Even after all these years, I’ve never stopped wanting you. Needing you’ he professed, and you felt yourself melt at his words.

‘I love you too’ you managed to whisper, his teeth lightly biting your neck before his eyes were on yours again.

‘Your body is my safe place, I don’t want you to ever be embarrassed of it. You’re so perfect, trust me’ he told you sincerely, shivering at his words and he must of felt it as a cocky smirk made it’s way onto his lips. ‘You are, I mean it. This beautiful body has given me everything I could ever want. You make me feel like the luckiest man in the world’

It was like someone had knocked the wind out of you, tears welling up in your eyes at his words so when he gripped the hem of your shirt to lift it over your head, you didn’t stop him this time. His face was a picture, taking in a sharp breath before letting it out slowly through pursed lips, brows furrowed like he couldn’t quite believe how lucky he was to have you sat in front of him before running his hand over his chin like he always did when he was a bit nervous.

‘You, my love, have got nothing to be worried about. Ageing like fine wine’ he winked, causing you to scoff before he rolled you over onto your back so he could tower over you. ‘Hey, I’m being serious’ he whispered, bumping his nose against yours before gripping the waistband on your shorts so he could pull them down your legs. ‘I’ve got no reason to lie, do I?’ He asked and you shook your head whilst biting your lip.

‘No, you don’t’

‘Exactly’ he whispered, pulling back to look over your body whilst he lightly traced his fingertips down your body causing you to shudder and erupt in goosebumps. ‘I love the way you react to me’ he whispered, coming back down to connect your lips in a heavy kiss before trailing thin all over your cheeks and jaw. ‘So perfect’ he mumbled into your skin and you giggled whilst trying pull his face up to yours so you could kiss him again.

You could feel him pressing into your core, making your tummy flip as he slowly rocked his hips into you and you couldn’t help but moan into his mouth as you tugged on his hair.

‘Please’ you breathed, raising your hips to let him know you were ready but he clearly wasn’t yet. He did it give you exactly what you wanted but your thoughts were stopped by the feeling on his mouth covering your nipple over the thin mesh of your bra. ‘F-fuck’ you managed to stutter out before he kissed his way across your chest to the other side. Your fingers combing through his hair as he kissed every inch of you. Lips trailing down your body to kiss over the faint stretch marks that had been left from Ollie and Tilly and you shivered at the gesture.

He didn’t stop there though, kissing your hips and your thighs before slowing working his way back up to your lips where he kissed you deeply. You were ready for him to have his way with you but he seeming wanted to worship you and you weren’t about to tell him no. You hadn’t had this amount of attention paid to you for a while and even though you could feel your face burning you were enjoying the feeling of his lips on your flushed skin

‘I’m gonna make you feel so good baby I promise’ he whispered against your inner thighs. ‘Gonna give you what you deserve’

You went to reply, but the feeling of him pulling your underwear down your legs stopped you. Your eyes were on him but his were focused on your core as he lowered himself back down, positioning your legs over his shoulders as his fingers lightly danced over your thighs before you finally felt him pressing kisses over your skin again.

As much as you were enjoying all the kisses and his soft touches you were aching for him to finally touch you properly. You had a tell, and he knew exactly what it was so when he felt your fingers gliding over his scalp he didn’t waste anymore time, darting his tongue out so he could separate your folds gently before flicking over your clit in a way he knew you loved. Your back was arching off the bed instantly but you felt him press you back down before slowly torturing you with his mouth.

You were already turned on more than you had been in a while, his soft touches and words really getting you going so the feel of him now finally giving you what you wanted felt like heaven, especially when his hands traveled up your body so he could cup your boobs so you couldn’t help but moan, biting your finger out of habit so no one heard you.

‘Does that feel good?’ He asked, taking a break so you could get your breath back and you managed to nod before he grabbed your hands to link your fingers together and rest them next to you. ‘I wanna hear you then, yeah? It’s just us baby, no need to hold back’ he told you before diving back in.

You lost yourself in the feeling, the familiar fizz rushing through your veins are your high was bubbling up inside you. Mason always knew how to get you going and how to get you to the finish line, knowing just by your reaction when he was on the right track and a few seconds after he’d slipped his fingers inside of you you were cuming around them.

You were crying his name, squeezing his fingers as you gripped the sheets with your free hand as he rode you through it, growling into you as you came down from you high and you could just about feel him pressing delicate kisses to your thighs again before making his way back up so you were eye level.

‘You ready for me now gorgeous?’

‘Mmhmm’ you breathed, opening your eyes to try and focus on him but your head was still spinning.

He didn’t give you a second, pushing your thighs up and apart so you were open for him before lining up and pushing himself in. You couldn’t blame him, he’d been teasing you for ages so you knew he must of been desperate to get inside you but the groan he let out when he was fully inside made your spine tingle.

‘You take me so well, baby. Made just for me, yeah? All mine’

‘Mase’ you whimpered, gripping his forearms as he leant forward and pounded into you steadily. ‘Oh, fuck. Do that again.’ You cried, your legs shaking as he repeatedly hit the same spot inside of you.

‘I know baby, I know. You feel so so good’ he mumbled, resting his forehead on yours as your moans got lost in each others mouths. He made you feel beautiful, feel seen, like the luckiest person on the planet that you got to share your world with him and you knew you were covered in goosebumps as your feelings hit you like a tone of bricks.

‘I love you so much, Mase’ you cried, bringing his lips down to yours for a heated kiss before feeling his fingers travel to your clit as he continued to thrust into you. You could tell he was close and now you were too so you pulled you lips away from him just in time to let out a loud groan as you came around him.

‘I love you too’ he whimpered, stilling his hips as he finished inside of you before collapsing on top of you with a light thud.

You were both exhausted and you let him lay on you for a bit so you could get you breathing back to normal, your own eyes becoming heavy so you shut them for a few seconds but you felt Mason move his head to look up at you almost as if it was an instinct for him.

‘Don’t go to sleep on me now, takes more than one go to make a baby’ he winked, making you laugh as you played with his hair ‘How about a snack and we go again?’ He asked

‘Grab me a bag of malteasers and you’ve got yourself a deal’ you told him, watching him sit up so he could pull out of you slowly. Once he had he dropped a quick kiss to your forehead and closed your legs ‘just to be on the safe side’ before jumping up to run downstairs and get your sweets for you.

You giggled as you watched him run out of your room without a stitch of clothing on, laughing like a school kid at the prospect of having sex with you again and it wasn’t long before he back in the doorway, dangling the share size bag between his fingers as he leant up against the frame.

‘I hope you’re ready for round two’

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed :) I’d love to know what you thought so please feel free to comment or drop me an ask, I’d really appreciate it!

[kriffingstars]

Johnny MacTavish; Price has a trophy wife?

pairing: Johnny MacTavish x Price!Reader summary: Johnny makes a fool of himself, but it's all worth it because he made a pretty girl laugh warnings: none :) a/n: anon, thank you for the prompt! Once again asks are open, what do you guys want to see from Johnny and Reader (or platonic Price)

Price's Niece Masterlist

Johnny has been to Price's a number of times, but the front garden has never looked so put together the whole time John has lived there.

Probably hired a Gardner or something, he doesn't peg Price as someone with a green thumb and it's very evident that lots of hard work has gone into the small green space.

It’s nice he notes, slightly rural village, close enough to the city, but still far enough to bring a sense of peace, the new additions make the place feel a bit more homely.

He raps on the door a couple of times before admiring the large lavender bush that now sits next to the gate, the calming scent a bit stronger now, after he brushed past it on his way up to the door.

When you open the door, he’s standing right on your doorstep, hands in his pockets, not paying much attention.

"Hi, Soap is it?" your soft voice cuts through his observation, and he turns to face you.

He was expecting his gruff Captain to answer the door, not a gorgeous, and obviously, much younger woman.

He clears his throat as he takes you in, radient smile and bright eyes are the standout things he admires as his eyes scan over you.

"Come on in. John's just in his office on a call, he'll be down in a minute," you inform him, as you lead him through the hallway into the kitchen.

That's when you tell him your name, and he says it aloud, liking the way it feels as it rolls on his tongue.

He doesn't know it just yet but the way he says it makes your heart flutter just a little bit.

As you pop the kettle on for the three of you his thoughts wander slightly, trying to come up with a good way to ask about your relationship with his CO.

Maybe he doesn't know Price as well as he thinks he does, because never in a million years would he think the man, out of all people, would have a gorgeous, very young, trophy wife.

The lads are never going to believe this.

You carry on with polite conversation until Johnny changes the subject slightly abruptly.

"Sorry is John your husband or…?”

As soon as the words come out of his mouth he's mentally kicking himself. The subject change is like whiplash, you were just asking him how he's enjoying leave and he's just rather rudely ignored what you've just asked him.

Your shoulders begin to heave up and down, as you let out a large belt of laughter. Your face scrunching as you slap a palm over your mouth to mute the noise coming out of it.

Whatever reaction he was expecting, that is not it.

"Oh my gosh, no!" you manage to squeak out between fits of laughter, wiping a loose tear from the outside of your eye.

"He's my uncle," you explain, once your laughter dies down. Adding on about how you're living with him whilst you're at university.

By the time Price finishes his call, and makes his way downstairs Johnny is beet red. It's an unusual sight, but he doesn't address it.

In all honesty, he was a bit apprehensive about the two of you meeting, he knows what Soap is like, and he doesn't want him laying on the charm with you. One of the many reasons why he left out the fact that you were now living with him.

"You'll never guess what Johnny just asked me," you giggle, once the greetings are over.

And now that he knows you're not in fact, Price's secret trophy wife, he basks in the way that even if he did royally embarrass himself, he still made an impression and made you laugh that hard.

[cursedonyx]

Hogwarts Legacy Characters React to Being in a Haunted House Attraction

Sebastian Sallow

This boy doesn’t know the meaning of the word fear. Not in the sense of ghosties and ghoulies, anyway. He’s more frightened of things that can actually hurt, like Anne’s curse and Solomon’s abuse. Considering he willingly sought out tombs and catacombs to explore that are full of inferi, a haunted house is a walk in the park for this ballsy lad. He might jump if a scare actor pops up but then he’ll laugh and tell them ‘you got me!’ He treats the whole thing as a game and relishes any puzzles he comes across. He’s most often found joking with Ominis about everything, but this is partly because he's extremely protective of his best friend. Even though he knows he’s more than capable, he’ll keep an eye on him all the same.

Sebastian absolutely wants to go again the second he’s out, and might complain if he’s not allowed.

Ominis Gaunt

Shockingly, none of the visual scares work on our prince of snakes, and he soon gets used to the cacophony of spooky noises that surround him, they don’t bother him. He does find it a bit disorienting if there’s a lot of noise, and though he complains that he’s bored or finds it pointless, a very well-placed sound-effect will have him leap Scooby-Doo style into the closest person’s arms. He’s grossed out if he has to touch anything nasty and will avoid it at all costs. Everyone follows him through the hall of mirrors because to him, it’s just a hall.

He does end up enjoying it more than he’ll admit out loud, because after growing up in the house he did, what true fear can be found in a haunted house? It’s nice to be scared safely around his friends.

Garreth Weasley

Similarly to Sebastian, Garreth has a good time in haunted houses, but he’s very easily startled or spooked. He’s the first to scream at a jumpscare and he’s absolutely terrified of anything resembling a scary white lady with long black hair. He can and will bolt if he sees this. To cover his nerves, he makes loud, crass jokes and puns, which will either help calm everyone down or piss them off.

He and Sebastian might get into a dick-swinging contest about who’s the least scared, but when Seb suggests they go through alone, Garreth is not keen, but he’ll do it if he’s sufficiently egged-on, and he will shit bricks. It’s harder to be brave when there’s no one to show off for.

Leander Prewett

Leander is the type to boast about how ‘not scary’ these types of attractions are when he’s in the queue, but the moment he’s inside, he’s holding onto Garreth’s hand for dear life and more often than not is hiding his face in the back of Garreth’s shirt. Credit to him, he’ll go through the whole haunted house, but it’ll take a lot for him to actually feel brave enough to peek at his surroundings. He’ll probably regret it, because with Leander’s luck, he’s going to come face to face with something terrifying. The only time he’ll not cling onto Garreth like a life-raft is if he’s in there with people who are more frightened than he is – seeing other people more scared than him brings out the true Gryffindor bravery in him and he’ll lead them through, even if he needs a very strong drink afterwards.

Amit Thakkar

Perhaps surprisingly, Amit loves haunted houses. He knows they’re all pretend and are full of actors, not actual things trying to kill him, so to him they’re very much a game, a way to experience danger without actually being in danger. He’ll still shriek like a banshee at every little thing and might even run away at times, but the only thing he’ll outright refuse to do is crawl through a small space. He’ll have to be immobilised and pulled through if the group comes across one, because he absolutely will not do it under his own steam.

Andrew Larson

He’s a nervous giggler, and is cackling pretty much all the way through. He feels safest if he can hold onto someone and will probably form a chain with Garreth and Leander. That said, he’s not above taking advantage of how unnerved everyone is and he might try a few of his own scares, like running his fingers over the back of someone’s neck and pretending he didn’t, or blowing puffs of air on someone. He’s not particularly subtle and will probably be caught out quite quickly, but he’s such a sweetheart that everyone forgives him.

Duncan Hobhouse

Similarly to Leander, Duncan will boast to everyone that haunted houses don’t scare him, but he’ll only boast about that when there’s no chance of him being within fifty miles of one. He’ll come up with all sorts of excuses to avoid going, but if he’s forced, he’s going to be bawling from the moment he sets foot inside. Chances are he won’t make it to the end and has to be rescued by the staff before he has a full-on meltdown. Ominis, naturally, will take every opportunity to scare him more and make him leave so he can enjoy the rest of the attraction in relative peace. One could term this cruel, if it wasn’t for the fact that Duncan had been planning to do the exact same thing but meaner to Ominis until his cowardice got the better of him.

Natsai Onai

Natty can take or leave a hunted house. She enjoys the experience, but she’s had one too many scares in her life to take any real enjoyment out of being deliberately scared for fun. What she likes is the camaraderie with her friends as they all go through together, and she’ll be the first to make fun of herself for screaming at a spider when an axe-wielding maniac is chasing them down a hallway.

She’s also a bit of a mum-friend – if someone’s really struggling, she’ll do her best to comfort them and show them that haunted houses aren’t that scary, so she’ll probably be part of the chain with Garreth, Leander and Andrew. She’ll hum nursery-rhymes from her childhood when she gets nervous, and the others find this both endearing and comforting.

Poppy Sweeting

This little hellion will scare the actors. Poppy is a feral nutbucket and she delights in the chaos of the average haunted house. She will happy charge ahead by herself, shriek and wail at the actors to make them back off then go running back to the group with a huge grin on her face. On occasion, Garreth might pick her up and point her at something particularly scary, like a whirling-limbs-shield.

Poppy’s laughter is genuine in a haunted house. She loves the décor, the aesthetic, and the efforts the actors put in, and her enthusiasm is infectious. She and Sebastian will probably run off ahead together at some point, find some masks or bandages, then jump out and scare their friends.

She will actively try to save any real spiders she finds, and chances are her pockets will be full of them when she leaves.

Imelda Rayes

Imelda will probably affect great boredom going through a haunted house, complaining loudly about how dull everything is. She’s got a keen eye and great reactions, so she’ll probably spot a scare coming a mile off, most of the time. A skeleton would pop out and she’d yawn and go ‘seen it before!’ but then she’d turn around and come face to face with a scare she wasn’t expecting and scream the place down. Being used to yelling across a quidditch pitch, Imelda’s screams are quite something to behold, and Ominis learns very quickly not to stand too close to her for fear of going deaf.

Once out, Imelda will be the one giving a blow-by-blow of what happened inside, laughing with everyone about which bits scared whom and doing impressions of everyone’s reactions.

Masterlist

[hopefulromances]

Long Time Coming I Chapter One I All My Ghost

Summary: Being hired as the first female assistant coach in the league was a challenge of it itself. Being a football protigy and University Football Legend was easy enough. Coaching Jamie Tartt was a challenge all on its own.

Word Count: 1355

Warnings: Jamie is a dick. First Person. Enemies to lovers. Minimal Y/N use. Again I have no idea how football works so... just play along. Some angst in this chapter.

A/N: Slow beginnings yall! But I promise things will pick up soon enough! I thrive on words of affirmation so feel free to comment or send me a note letting me know what you think!

Prologue

As I originally predicted, hating Jamie was incredibly easy. His arrogance was intoxicating and not in a good way. But for me, it felt like he was doing everything in his power to make me feel small.

            "I know we’re all fit but I need you to focus on the football, not my ass.”

            “What do you think (Y/N), should I go left then not pass to Sam, or should I not pass to Sam and then go left.”

            “Woah that was harsh, you need some Midol?”

Every jab made my blood boil. But Ted was always there to back me up. His ever-present optimism was contagious and no matter how bad the cards seemed to be delt, he always had some way to make things better.

My days were made in the early mornings. I always like to come to come in early to get some time on the field. Before Ted or Beard or any of the lads got to the club, I would come with my own ball and practice shooting and dribbling by myself. It was sorta a sacred practice for me, and something I really looked forward to.

That was until one frosty morning. The pitch was dewy in the morning sun, and I could see my breath as I stood starring at the goal. My foot rested on the ball in front of me as I visualized my attack. The imaginary defenders coming towards me set the stage for the roaring crowd cheering my name. All at once, I began my movement.

I kicked the ball up and began my dribble. I swerved and spun around keeping control of the ball but allowing myself to perform a few dribbling tricks along the way. Then I sent the ball flying through the air relishing in the swish as the ball hit the back of the net. I smiled to myself, catching my breath when a slow clap from behind me caught my attention. I turned around and saw Jamie in a blue track suit staring at me with his dumb cocky smirk.

He sent me a whistle. “Wow, that was impressive.”

I rolled my eyes, going to grab my ball, ignoring him. That’s what Roy had told me to do. Anytime he was being especially pricky, just ignore him. Nevertheless, he persisted.

            “I mean, seriously gaffer, those little tricks would send any opposing team running.”

I kicked the ball up into my hands started off the pitch.

            “No wonder they made you a coach. I mean, I could really learn from you.”

The sarcasm dripped from his words like acid, stinging me with every syllable.

            “Piss off, Jamie” I spat at him as I brushed past him.

            “No seriously, it’s cute! They should put you in the reserves, send you on the field when I’ve sprained me ankle,” he chuckled.

I whipped back around and marched straight up to him. He didn’t move, reveling in the fact that I was angry.

            “Why do you have to be such a prick? Huh? Is it impossible to be nice, just once, to me?” I asked him. “To your teammates? To anyone? I promise you; life is a lot more enjoyable when you are.” He rolled his eyes, but his smile began to fade. I continued. “I worked my ass off to get to where I am, just like you did. So, what, you’re talented? So am I. And I certainly don’t need your giant ego getting in the way of my success. So, just leave me alone! Okay?”

His eyes widened slightly as he took in my words. For a second, it looked like he might apologize. But slowly, a sly smile came over his face.

            “You think I’m talented?” he smirked, raising an eyebrow.

I shook my head, scoffing in disbelief. “You are unbelievable.”

The surprising thing was my hatred for Jamie had faded as the season went on. The Lasso Effect, however surprising, was truly working. Jamie was changing… for the better. There was even a second where I thought I liked him. The day Dani Rojas arrived and challenged Jamie’s star power was the most fear I’ve seen in him since he arrived. But it wasn’t necessarily fear of being less popular or not scoring the most goals, it looked more like fear of not being needed.

            “You know Jamie,” I said to him as he left the locker room. “There’s room on this team for both of you.” Jamie stared at me. I slung my bag over my shoulder before shrugging. “I’m just saying that if you tried to work with him, instead of against him, it could be great for the team.”

I gave him a small smile before walking past him. In some odd way, I understood him. He had been benched at the last game, then spent all day watching someone else do his role and, nearly, just as good as him.

            “(Y/N)...”

His voice surprised me. I didn’t expect him to actually have something to say in response. I turned back around, and he approached me.

            “Do you think… do you think that the gaffer would replace me? ‘Cos I was a prick ‘n all?” he asked, curiously. He seemed nervous. I could tell he was trying to hide it but his question made me wonder.

            “Jamie, you’re too talented to replace. Ted knows that. Just…” I struggled to find the right words. “Try to focus on the team. If you used your skills to uplift your teammates, rather than using it to prove yourself to them… well.” I shrugged. Again, he stared at me, waiting for something to make a point. “I’m just saying you’ve got nothing to prove to us. Just play the game with your mates. It’ll come together.”

            “You ready to go?” Keely's voice called from down the hallway.

We both turned and saw her standing near the door. She gave Jamie a smile before her eyes landed on me expectantly.

            “See you later, Jamie?” I ventured a kind goodbye.

He grunted at me before turning and walking away. I sighed, disappointed that I hadn’t gotten through to him. What I didn’t see, as I walked away, was Jamie looking over his should at me.

            “What was that about?” Keely asked as we walked through the Richmond green.

            “He was asking if he was being replace. By Dani.” I admitted. Their relationship hadn’t ended that long ago so I was sure she knew more about his insecurities than I did.

She tsked before responding. “He’s so scared, actually. Like all the time.”

I considered her words. I had admired Jamie for so long. Posters in my room, stats in my journals. But meeting him, it was something completely different. He was so hostile. But fear can do that to someone. I was just about to respond when my phone began to ring. I saw that it was Ted and excused myself to answer. Shortly after I returned to Keely.

            “Who was that?” she probed, not looking up from her phone.

            “Uh, that was Ted. Apparently, there’s an emergency ‘ghost’ situation and we’re all meeting at the club in 30 minutes?”

Keely looked over at my incredulous. “Ghost?”

            “I truly have no idea.”

Nonetheless, I found myself back at the club with a letter from my father in hand. All the boys were there. Well, all except Jamie, who I couldn’t locate. I approached Sam who gave me a rundown of what was happening. We all went in a circle, placing things in a bin to light on fire as a sacrifice to the ghost of Richmond’s past. I couldn’t help asking myself how I got in this situation.

Finally, it was my turn and I took a step forward. I held up the letter from my father.

            “This is the letter my dad sent me when I told him I got the job here at Richmond. Must have been about 6 months ago? He was so proud of me. He’s always been the one to encourage me or… support me through all my decision. Even if they were the wrong ones.” A chuckle ripples through the lads and I finish up. “Anyways, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him supporting me my whole life.”

With that, I place the letter in the bin and step back. A voice cleared itself from behind me and I turned to see Jamie. His eyes wouldn’t meet mine as he stepped forward. I moved aside so he could make his way forward. He held up a pair of boots. They were boots his mom gave him. As he spoke, I watched him closely.

            “I made a vow to be so tough that he could never call me ‘soft’ again,” he spoke. His voice was sure, but I could hear the slight shake of nerves. “I wonder if sometimes… I forget about making her proud… I don’t think she would be lately…”

He dropped the boots in the bin and took a step back, landing next to me. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, and I could feel him trying not to look at me. I, however, looked up at him. He was so different than he was just a few months ago, on the pitch, in the cold hours of the morning. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest and I gave him a small nudge. He looked down slightly, and I gave him a comforting smile.

He tried to roll his eyes, but I could see the twitch of his lips in the semblance of a smile. Before Ted could light the fire inside, Coach Beard made the wonderful comment about going outside to light it.  Jamie and I walked next to each other as we made our way outside.

            “So,” I ventured. “Dad’s, huh?”

            “What are you on about?” he questioned, looking over at me, finally.

            “I don’t know I was just making conversation,” I defended myself, holding up my hands.

            “I just went on about how much of a dickhead my dad is and you want to make conversation about it?” he retorted, raising an eyebrow.

I pursed my lips. “I guess?”

He tried to frown but couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips.

            “That’s mental,” he decided on.

I smiled, happy that I was able to make him laugh, at least.  It made my cheeks burn, and I didn't know why. And it was the last time I would see Jamie for a long time.

After that night, I looked forward to seeing him again the next day. But when I arrived at the office, I was met with Ted storming out of the down the hallway. Angrier than I had ever seen him before.

            “What’s up with Ted?” I asked Beard as I put my bag down.

            “Jamie’s gone,” he answered.

It felt like the world dropped out from under me. I looked over into the locker room and found his space empty. I struggled to speak.

            “What?” I managed to get out.

            “Man City took him back. Ted’s furious. He’s going to talk to Rebecca right now,” he explained, a frustrated look on his face.

            “Oh.”

And that was it. The next time I heard him was on the telly, talking shit about the coaching staff and the team. Saying the same hurtful stuff that he had been all season. As the team let out shouts at him, I couldn’t help but feel sad. I wanted to be angry with him, but the feeling wouldn’t come. Just the look of nerves and fear on his face as he placed his boots in the ghost bin that night. And more importantly, the guy who had come out of his shell around the fire. Smiling and singing with this teammate.  That Jamie, who was gone.

[prettyboypistol]

Mercs realize that they are in love with their friend with benefits (preferred male please) love your headcanons,have you a nice day

Mercs Realizing They're In Love With a FWB || TF2 x M!Reader

Scout

Gay panics HARD

Out here acting like sucking dick made him catch the homo fr

He avoids you and even the topic of you. As soon as someone brings you up he changes the topic or gets mad.

He's mad at himself for thinking of you in a romantic way since you two CLEARLY said that this was just a way to blow off steam.

Probably takes it out on you, Def calls you a slur and feels really bad about it.

Jeremy knew what he had to do. He had fucked up severely and now he had to be a man about it. With a sucking in of breath, he knocked on your door. God, he hated himself so much for calling you that.

"Hey I-"

Your broken expression tore him to shreds. Your eyes were puffy and cheeks were red from crying.

After about an hour of crying, amending things, and a good punch to the stomach, you two eventually patch things up. You two don't know exactly what's going to happen going forward, but there won't be anymore name-calling.

Engineer

Suddenly a lot more gentle and romantic out of nowhere.

Like, he was usually a great friend and there for you, but out of the blue. He's checking up on you. He's handing you things you ask for, even if it's out of his way to do so. Etc etc

Kind of adverse to any sort of sexual favors bc he feels like he's taking advantage of you.

Eventually musters up the courage to speak his mind.

"Hey Dell, you wanted to see me?" You hummed as you shut and locked the door to his workshop. You assumed that you two would be breaking the dry spell that had been going on as of late, but the expression Dell had on his face clued you in otherwise.

"Listen, I've got something to tell you about. And I feel like straight shit for not saying anything sooner- but I think I'm catching feelings for you."

Dell sucked in a breath as he waited for your response. God, it was hell for him to stare you in the eye, but he was a man too! He was going to face you like one!

Demoman

"well shit"

He's not happy about it, but he is not othered by it in the slightest.

Def tells you right away like "if you wanna continue fucking that's cool but I really like you."

He still keeps treating you the same and is really calm and open about his feelings, even if he hits the booze a little more in downtime to cope with his feelings.

"Hey lad, c'mere." Tavish mumbled loud enough for only you to hear. Worried, you follow him quickly into the vacant hallway. With the way Tavish's demeanor was completely serious. "There's something you should know about." "Why? Did something happen?" You asked. Tavish nodded before he continued.

"Well ah, I caught a bit of feelings for you laddie, and I felt like- like you should know that before we do anything more. Just in case that changes anything. I just really got hit with how much I fucking like your personality as well as your physicality, y'know?"

Pyro

They swing from avoiding you entirely to keeping you a maximum of 3 feet away from them at all times. Mainly because of how their hallucinations and reality distorts their perception of you and how they exist around you.

Hates the fact that if it came out that they were fucking a man, Pyro would get made fun of more by the mercs.

You have no clue why Pyro is extremely hot and cold with you suddenly, but you don't feel like it would be ethical to have sex with them when they're cuddly and affectionate.

They tell you that they love you constantly when they're all over you and a hell of a lot more protective/jealous/paranoid about your affections.

Even when they are avoiding you, they still keep an eye on you to keep you safe.

"Pyro?" You call. They had been avoiding you for weeks. It pained them to avoid you, but they knew that they had to. They just didn't want to hurt you.

"Pyro please talk to me. I- I feel like you're struggling with something. Do you want to talk?" You would have offered to have a cup of tea or engage in Pyroland, but it was probably best to talk to them when they are clearly more terrified rather than euphoric.

You finally got a response. Pyro nodded.

Spy

god DAMMIT

Ghosts you until he feels better. Like total asshole mode until you hate him.

it's his idea that nobody is allowed to love him. The last time he loved someone he abandoned his son.

It hurts like hell for him, especially when you try to talk to him. He brushes you off and ignores you until you get the hint that he does NOT want to talk to you anymore.

Keeps the picture he has of you asleep in his bed in his wallet. It's his best picture of you since you look so at ease and peaceful- almost as if you trusted him with your very life and heart.

Sniper

Bro this man is AWKWARD

Still smashes tho

Mundy really thinks that giving you head counts as a love confession fr

Genuinely though, he's a lot more intentional with mini acts of service. He invites you to have a cup of coffee, offers you a cigarette when he opens a pack, just the little things you know?

A lot more blushy and shy when you talk to him/tease him.

"Mick Mundy." You called, the mischief in your voice clear as day. Sniper was never more envious of Spy's cloaking device as you made your way over. "Hey there handsome, is your evening free?" You loved the way his face flushed and how he pulled his hat down to cover himself. You could tell the very moment he fell for you, and you just loved teasing him!

Medic

He doesn't like the fact that he's fallen in love with you, but knows he can't really do anything about it. (He's tried a lobotomy, but he lost feeling in his ring finger for a week.)

Keeps it friendly, but def "dirty talks" in German to you stuff like "you're so beautiful" and "I adore you" to kind of feel better about his crush

Gets jealous of you hanging with the others more to the point of you noticing. (Glares, more touching, etc)

Eventually tells you in English, but def in a heat of passion moment. Ludwig kept near you during the fight, but a rain of bullets dropped down from out of nowhere. Despite how much Medic tried to battle the onslaught, he wasn't powerful enough to stop the bleeding. "Liebe! God DAMN IT!" Ludwig shouted as you dropped down to the ground. Of course you would respawn in a few seconds, maybe- just maybe, since you were dead... "I love you."

Heavy

He's open about it, but demands you to keep it quiet.

He asks you to please keep everything quiet, especially if you reciprocate. He trusts you enough to keep his sexuality a secret, but he wants both of you to stay safe.

Mikhail acts a lot more kind to you, little acts of kindness.

PLEASE call him nicknames he gets so blushy. "Big Bear" "Big Guy" "Handsome", all make him scream internally.

As you wind down from the absolutely wild night you two shared, Mikhail held you tight as the alarm clock flashed 4:06AM. "I have to say something." Heavy mumbled into your neck. "What is it?" You respond as sleep sews itself into your consciousness. You tried to stay awake, but he was just so warm and cuddlyyy... "I love you." "I love.. you too"

Soldier

VERY uncomfortable with his feelings

called himself straight, even despite you two's "arrangement". Man's so far in the closet he's found the forest the wood is from.

He is fully aware that he's in love with you, but he refuses to acknowledge the feelings. He wants to kiss you. He wants to hold you. He wants to keep you safe and care for you.

Def daydreams of a domestic household with you(stfu he doesn't mean to imagine you that sexy when you wear an apron)

"Solly?" You hum, a smile blooming when you see your little soldier. "You spacing out?" "I'M MORE THAN SENTIENT, PRIVATE!" Jane responded. He took a step back when he realized how damn close you suddenly had gotten. "What's got you smiling like that? Thinking about the Revolution?" You teased. "OF COURSE!" He lied. He was thinking about you and him on a hillside holding hands.

[steveinscarlet]

Another vintage Kerrang article for your delectation. This one is loooong. Text below the cut...

THEY'RE ALL concerned and they all want answers. Mötley Crüe drummer Tommy Lee, hauling ass down Sunset Boulevard, Los Angeles, in a sparkling silver Corvette, certainly does. So does Blackfoot mainspring Ricky Medlocke, a recent unexpected apparition within the Marquee's glistening vaults. So does just about everyone I've met in the course of recent field-trips. They're all wearing that 'there but for the grace of God' look and they all want to know. So do I...

"Every time you speak to Rick on the phone you come away with a big grin on your face because he's in such good spirits. He's handling it better than I thought he would. He's matured 10 years overnight. He's totally accepted the fact that he's only got one arm and he's being very realistic about coming back into Def Leppard. He's mad to go for it, though, and we're mad to let him try."

That drummer Rick Allen will try, however, isn't in doubt. He's adamant about it and Leppard vocalist Joe Elliott is equally adamant that the band will give him their unrestrained support. As they've said all along, the decision is totally his "We aren't trying to show off or get sympathy," spells out Joe, "it's just the way we are. Def Leppard is simply five lads - we could have been a football team, we could have been international bank robbers. Rick's a mate, and just because he's had an accident doesn't mean he can't still be in the band. If he physically can't do it then obviously there's going to be problems, but with the technology available today I don't see why he can't play snare drum with his left foot, say. And if he can do that, and maybe have tom tom fills already recorded on a trigger, then the kit would look exactly the same. "Bill Ludwig, who builds Rick's kits, actually got in touch with him as soon as it happened, and it seems that there's a lot of one-arm drummers, guys who came back from Vietnam, y'know. The thing is, they tend to play Holiday Inns and places that like that; it's a different approach to drumming. Rick has a very John Bonhamish style - I mean, the quy doesn't need monitors, he's ridiculously loud! - and he'd never be able to do with one hand what he did with two for an hour and three quarters. It would kill him! So he's gonna need the technology. It's just down to whether he can accept the fact that there are gonna be people in the crowd trying to peer through the cymbals to see a plastic arm. He'll have to wear a shirt now, whereas before he'd always go bare-topped..."

THE DETAILS of the car crash that removed 21- year-old Rick (temporarily at least) from the Leppard ranks have been pretty well documented, grabbing column inches in the Nationals and beyond. The bare facts seem plain enough: at 12.50pm on New Year's Eve, while driving his Corvette along the A57 from Sheffield to his parents home in Dronfield (Derbyshire), Rick was involved in an incident which sent his car spinning out of control, turning over several times, injuring his female passenger and removing his left arm in the process. He remembers what happened vividly, and really can count himself fortunate to be alive. When the debris from the accident was examined it was found that the top half of the steering wheel had been bent back, Rick's particular power clearly preventing the steering column and dashboard from crushing against his chest. But why did it happen?

Picking through the events with Elliott it soon becomes obvious that the whole story is a little more complex than yer typical life-in-the-fast-lane pile up. Think about it...

When you're young and successful, with a streamlined US car and a female companion to match, it can sometimes sting the nasal membrane of the folks you've abandoned to a dole queue existence in your humdrum hometown rut. People have been known to glow green with jealousy, and on New Year's Eve people have been known to take a drink. Sometimes even a life...

"Yeah," says Joe quietly. "There was another car involved in the accident."

Mucking Rick around, you mean?

"That's right. But the people have denied it and there's nothing we can do. The coppers have interviewed them but it's no good I'd love to go round and kill 'em!"

Joe takes a moment to collect his thoughts, then continues... "The arm was placed in a bucket of ice gathered from all the houses nearby and Rick was in hospital (the Royal Hallamshire) within 19 minutes, which is unbelievable. He underwent an 11-hour operation; his arm was back on by ten to one the following morning, but infection set in and after three days they had to take it off.

"His nerves are still alive, though. They've got them wrapped up like spaghetti, and it's possible to have them connected up in a way that can give movement to a prosthetic arm. So the Steve Austin 'Six Million Dollar Man' thing is not beyond the realms of possibility one day. Rick still feels his arm because of the nerves."

When did you hear what had happened?

"I heard at about ten to four the same afternoon and I couldn't believe it. I cried like a baby for about three hours - my face was hurting. Peter (Mensch, manager) rang and said, 'Rick's had an accident, his arm's off, but they've sown it back on'. I've heard of that working before but unfortunately it was torn off, not cut off, so everything snapped and stretched in different places, which made it more difficult."

How soon after the accident did you visit Rick in hospital?

"I saw him two days after it happened... it was the worst experience I've ever had... but he was walking a week earlier than expected and telling the nurses to f**k off after three days because he was fed up having his bandages changed. He sounds in fine form now and wants to get back; drumming's all he's ever done, and he's done it very well."

"It's just up to him if he can stand the strain. I mean, he's going to go through some crap. He's not had it yet, but he's gonna suffer from depression; bad depression. He's being very realistic about it, though. He said to me, 'When it comes, it comes.' He wants to come out here to Holland but he knows he can't."

Presumably he won't be ready to play a part on the forthcoming tour?

"No, and he knows that. Somebody will guest with us until we know the result of Rick's convalescence." Would you consider using two drummers on any subsequent tours?

"Possibly, yeah, and Rick could do specific bits. We've definitely thought about that, but he's got a lot to learn first. I mean, there's certain things that are now a fact of life. If Rick wants to wear baseball boots, for example, he's gonna have to wear Velcro ones. And he's probably gonna need press-stud trousers. He's got to learn to bath himself even..."

"The thing is, at the moment his right arm doesn't work. The ball is smashed so they've had to pin it. He's got a six inch pin as big as a poker in there. Imagine if your elbow was sown to your hip; well that's all the movement he's got. I guess he's a bit of a mess, though mentally he's the best he's ever been."

What would happen if Rick returned to the band yet clearly wasn't cutting it? Would you have to tell him? "No, because he'd know himself. He's said that to me on the phone. He's being realistic- if he can't do it he can't, but he's definitely gonna try. There'll come a time when Rick will say, I'm ready, and we'll get together in a rehearsal room for a month and see what he does. He'll either turn round and go

'Yes!' and we'll go 'Yes!', or else he'll say 'Sorry, I'm not coping with it.'

"The important thing is that he tries, otherwise he'll never know, and that would be awful. I know he'd rather fail than not try at all. Besides, it's no big secret that we use drum machines on the records so, whatever happens, he could still be involved on that side. We would just take a session drummer out on the road."

"At the moment, we're trying not to get too depressed about the whole situation, but we were mega-depressed at first. I was in a real state, like a zombie for five hours, and for quite a time after I just didn't want to get into a car. I know it's daft, but it's true

A BONHAM of the biscuit tins, a Titan of the tupperware, since the age of 11 Rick Allen has thought of little outside of drums and drumming. At the moment he's at home, probably watching Cheech & Chong videos on the new system bought for him by Phonogram Records. But chances are that his thoughts are elsewhere, no doubt wafting with the music around the booths and corridors of Wisseloord Studios near Amsterdam, Holland, where Leppard are recording their fourth, as yet untitled, LP. As always, he's with his colleagues 110 per cent (for now it can be in spirit only), a continued commitment that should spur him on through the tough weeks and numerous hospital visits ahead.

Prior to the accident, he'd laid the groundwork for eight backing tracks, and the remaining two songs on the album were always destined to feature a less human touch, the band specifically wanting a more clinical punch, so there's no problem on that front. As for his work on backing vocals, well, Elliott can easily deputise in that department, leaving Rick free to concentrate on the speediest recovery possible and, as Elliott puts it, "Learn to live again. He's having all these drums built and a special car designed, all sorts of stuff..."

All things considered, '84 certainly wasn't an easy year for Def Leppard, a rude awakening for an almost unbroken streak of good fortune. First longstanding associate 'Mutt' Lange proved unable to produce the new LP, likewise his replacement Jim Steinman (though for different reasons - read on!), and then came The Accident, which instantly eclipsed all previous hassles, reducing apparent mountains of doom and dismay to easily skirted molehills. But, if anything, adversity has caused the four active members of the Leppard clan to virtually graft respective beaks to the grindstone in a collective consummate effort to make their next album their best.

The band's first LP, 'On Through The Night', produced by (Colonel) Tom Allom, took a mere 18 days to record and remains something of an embarrassment in Elliott's eyes (someday he'd like to remix it and touch up a few of the vocal parts), while the second, 'High 'N' Dry', with Lange now at the helm, was laid down in three and a half months, including a month's pre-production, bang, bang, bang, 'Mutt' clearly wanting to capture the excitement generated by these 21-year-old 'let's go for its'. But 'Pyromania' now that was a different story, with band and producer (Lange again) making a conscious decision at the outset to pin back the ears of a generation with something of genuine lasting quality; an attempt to update the glories of Queen's 'Sheer Heart Attack' and 'Night At The Opera' LPs...

They went for it in a big way and 10 months later came up trumps, creating a slice of history that many have doubted they'll be able to top; an album that left the whole of the music industry wide-eyed and open-mouthed, and caused bands both big and small to almost instantly re-assess their directions and aims. A (hard) labour of love still selling around a thousand a week, it broke taboos and set fresh standards right down the line.

"Hopefully, it'll be an Heavy Metal 'Sergeant Pepper...'," says Elliott, "who knows, but we've got to do more. It'd be tragic if our best album was our third and we end up doing 17 LPs."

Whatever the next album sounds like, however, Joe's convinced that it's gonna be slated by the press. He's resigned himself to the fact (not having heard the record beyond a few notes ricocheting out of the studio doors, I really can't comment), but, along with bassist Rick Savage and guitarists Steve Clark/Phil Collen, he's ploughing on regardless, helping to create something different to 'Pyromania' in content yet as good, if not better, overall.

"Since 'Pyromania' we're two years on technically," he explains. "The Fairlights are better, the keyboards are better and the microphones are better. And we're two years more experienced, of course. Actually, we keep putting on 'Pyromania' and listening to it back-to-back with what we've done; you have to imagine it without the mix, but it's definitely up there to my ears."

JOE ELLIOTT leans forward in the chair, tucks a fold of his rather battered dressing gown tight against private parts and pours himself another glass of one cal Coke. This for the moment is home, and has been since the middle of August: a simple hotel room in Holland ten minutes drive from the studio complex. Originally, the band were due to play the 'Mick Wall Festival' in Rio, but they eventually decided against it on grounds of not wanting to interrupt recording. So while certain jammy so-and-so's were sunning themselves on the Copacabana sands (maaaan!!), Elliott and co, tax exiles all, were trudging across frozen lakes, wrapped up tight against temperatures of 25° below! Still, there's always next year And if nothing else, in their present position the four are conveniently cut off from all domestic distractions. Through the hotel room window I can see Dirk, Elliott's treasured Renault 12 (and centrespread star of Kerrang! 79), basking quietly in the hazy sunlight, the central motif on an idyllic pastel canvas shaded only by the distant foghorn fuming of an adrenalised Peter Mensch. Somewhere, behind closed doors, he's informing an unfortunate Halfin that a five-piece outfit close to the latter's wallet have been 'stiffing' horribly in the South, and he doesn't mean Torquay! Let's just say he's on form...

Later, on the flight back to London, having persuaded Mensch to fund my purchase of a duty free Sony Walkman in tasteful pink, I tentatively suggest that the forthcoming Leppard biography should be titled 'Me & My Whine'...

"OH, YEAH, DAAAN-TAY!!" he snaps, blood vessels popping like balloons, "AND HOW LONG DID IT TAKE YOU TO THINK THAT ONE UP???"

Back to business...

"We've always upheld the theory," theorises Joe as things quieten down, "that we don't want to put out a record every nine months. We'd much rather put out a record every two to three years that's of real good quality

"When we started this album 'Mutt' was involved; we did pre-production with him in Dublin, Ireland, which is why we've put him down again on the songwriting credits. It's an honesty thing with us. He doesn't write anything as such; the six of us just sit round a table with a piece of paper in front of us and guitars turned down really low, then whoever chucks in an idea - be it Rick or 'Sav' or me or 'Mutt' - we play with it."

"Steve, for example, will come up with an idea and 'Mutt' will say, 'Change that round', 'Use this', 'Do it in another key', ' or whatever. It just creases me up to think that there are some people out there who look at us and say, 'Ha! They can't write their own songs', which isn't true at all. And even if it was, I'd much rather be involved with an album that sold six million copies co-written with a producer than one that sold 200,000 copies that wasn't."

Surely helping with the arrangements and so on is part of a producer's job, though "Yeah, right, but it's almost as if it's some kind of crime to let your producer be involved. That's what a producer's there for - to kick you up the arse and bring out the best that you can do. We encourage 'Mutt' to be involved and we repay him by sticking his name on the songwriting credits. Who cares! It's only a bloody song anyway..."

Isn't it true, though, that a lot of producers are really just glorified engineers and can't make the extra step up to that level of involvement?

"Yes, that is true, but 'Mutt's an exception anway because the guy's a musician, he's been an engineer since he left school - he's been doing it for 17 years and he's only in his early thirties now and he's also a brilliant singer and great songwriter, so you've got everything going for you! Whereas an engineer will be able to tell you if something's out of tune, 'Mutt' can go further than that and say, 'It doesn't feel right' or 'Sing it this way, shape your mouth like this, let's alter the phrasing'. "With most engineers, if it's in tune and it's what you want then it's a take, and that's all their job is, because if it's that way round it's normally the band who are producing, the way we are with this album. I noticed in Kerrang! it implied that Nigel Green is now producing – he's not, we are. Nigel's assisting." "Actually, he's worked with us on our last two albums, though not as main engineer. Mike Shipley was always our main engineer. Nigel's as good as Mike, it's just that at the time he was involved in other projects; so when Mike took a holiday or went to the dentist Nigel would come in. We've never worked with him on a long term basis before but we do know him."

What happened with 'Mutt' Lange, though? As I understand it, he originally agreed to produce the album as well as help out on pre-production...

"Yeah. In fact, he was still going to do it last February. We started with pre-production, as you've mentioned, but it soon became obvious that 'Mutt' was in no state to see the whole thing through. The Cars' album ('Heartbeat City') nearly killed him; our last album nearly killed him, and the Foreigner record ('IV') the same. I think he's just reached the stage now where to attain certain standards you're talking about grafting for a long time."

"The way we worked on 'Pyromania', for example, we were doing 20 hour days and the guy was sleeping on the couch in the control room. You just can't do that forever, so for the sake of his health he made a wise decision not to do our album. At the time, we were panicking; we thought, 'Oh, Christ!', cos things had all been planned. It wasn't a case of us being afraid of what the album would sound like if 'Mutt' wasn't there, it was simply the availability of other producers that we were concerned about. With top people like Ted Templeman, Mike Stone or Trevor Horn, you've got to book 'em years in advance, you can't just get in touch two weeks before you want to start..."

"Actually, we did approach Templeman just to see how much he wanted, and I don't think he was too keen to do it; he put in such a ridiculous money offer that no band in the world would have accepted it! But then we really wanted somebody a bit different, anyhow. We were interested in the people I've already mentioned initially because we thought, well, these are the names that we've listened to, Bob Ezrin, y'know. But then we started to think about people like Alex Sadkin, who we found was doing the new Foreigner album ('Agent Provocateur'). Trevor Horn would have worked with us in England, but Chris Thomas (Roxy Music, Procol Harum) turned us down flat - he obviously doesn't like us. We actually tried to get Phil Collins, who was interested but tied up with the latest Clapton LP ('Behind The Sun')."

So you were looking at people outside the world of heavy rock...

"Yeah, we were looking at up and coming producers like Terry Manning, who's engineered for ZZ Top, and Steve Lillywhite, who's yet to do a hard rock album but possibly could do a good one. Some of us were interested in him, some of us weren't. I like the fullness of Simple Minds' 'Sparkle In The Rain' LP, it's brill, but sounds are really no problem for us now, we can get good sounds; the thing we always like to have is musical input, and that's where we thought Steinman would come into his own. I mean, the guy's a good songwriter and he's had a hell of a lot of success with what he does."

He worked on the last Billy Squier album, 'Signs Of Life', with Tony Platt, didn't he?

"Yeah, well, he 'navigated' it is what Squier says. We thought, OK, we'll get the sounds and let him do the producing, but it turned out that Jim wasn't really what any of us thought he would be. In fact, I wonder how he's ever got a production credit on anything - especially with Squier, the kind of ego he's got. I can't understand why he even let Steinman's name appear on his album cos we're not putting it on ours."

What was the problem with Steinman then?

"Ahh... I wouldn't be lying if I said that you could have done it as well. I mean that. The guy just sat there reading 'Country Life' all day and going, 'Yeah, yeah, that sounds good', when it plainly wasn't. He's simply not used to recording the way we record. When we said, 'Listen, this is the way we work, you'd better get used to it', he tried and he couldn't. He just could not hear if something was wrong."

Were your standards too exacting for him, do you think?

"Possibly, yeah. It sounds strange to say that, though, cos to me those standards are normal. Doing 'Pyromania' was like going to college; I've grown up listening to things a certain way. As far as I'm concerned, getting the timing, the tuning and the feel spot on is the usual way to work, but Jim Steinman for all his reputation - could not hear it."

"After a while, we just thought, well, this is silly, we're wasting our time and money and wasting his time, though we weren't too bothered about that cos he wasn't too bothered about the project. I honestly don't think he was doing it for any reason other than credibility in the States. "We'd say, 'Right, we start at 12', and he'd wander in at 3.30. We'd stay till 12 or one in the morning, then he'd go back to his hotel and start writing songs for his own future projects, and he'd be up till nine o'clock doing that. So when he finally got round to us, he'd only had five hours sleep. he wasn't there half the time. I mean, he was there in body but not in mind. We found more and more that we were doing the work, which was fine, we didn't mind doing it, we just thought, why the hell should we be giving this guy so many points and so many dollars to sit there reading 'Country Life'!"

So how much did you manage to accomplish with Steinman?

"We did about eight backing tracks and scrapped them; almost everything has been done again. And even the things that went down were our decision Steinman never overruled us on anything. If he said a certain take was good and we said it was bad, we'd do it again."

Who was actually getting the sounds at this stage?

"Us and Neil Dorfsman, Steinman's engineer. He was good, actually, cos he was doing all the work. Jim was the ears of the partnership, but the ears were plugged up, I think..."

"Y'know, it annoys me intensely when a producer walks into a control room and says, "This carpet has got to go!' Sod the desk, that's not important. An SSL desk, 150,000 quid's worth of equipment, and the carpet's got to go! He even had the carpet changed in his hotel room. The guy was living in a suite while we were happy in rooms with a fridge and a cooker. Obviously, we paid for it all..."

"And the food! He went out to the North of Holland and had a 12 course meal! Which is fine, that's his personality, but when somebody walks into a studio and says the carpet has got to go... if I'd been there I'd have decked him. Seriously. Who gives a flying s**t what the carpet looks like!"

How long did Steinman last, then?

"Oh, we dumped Jim about November, we gave him a fair chance. We thought, well, alright, we're doing the spadework, what he might consider the boring side of the album, let's see what he's like on vocals, maybe that's his strongpoint. He did tell us that he spent something like five weeks trying to get Meat Loaf to sing one line, so we thought, OK, the guy's definitely got stamina."

"But when it came to doing vocals with me, it was exactly the same situation as with the backing tracks - everything was my decision. He'd say, 'Yeah, that's good', and I'd go, 'Jim, it's f**king useless!' I'd run out of breath at the end of a line cos I wasn't quite familiar with what I was singing, and he'd say, 'It's got a bit of feel'. Isn't that pathetic?!"

"I mean, Steve and Phil wanted to get rid of him two weeks after he was here. But I just kept saying, 'Give the guy a chance, blah, blah, blah' made meself look a right arsehole. But it was only fair to let him get to the vocal stage of things."

"Anyway, when Steinman went we all sat down and asked Mensch to sort out which other producers were available. We put down everybody we thought might be good. Mike Shipley couldn't do it cos he was off co-producing the new Loverboy album, so we just suggested Nigel. We were doing a better job than Steinman, so we thought, well, what's the point getting in another producer? We send 'Mutt' the odd tape now and then and he sends it back saying, 'It sounds brilliant to me', which shows that we can do it, so we are."

Has having Phil Collen involved from the start of this album (he became a Leppard member during the recording of 'Pyromania', replacing guitarist Pete Willis) made things different in any way?

"Yeah, it means that the songwriting's changed a little; Phil's input is better than Pete's ever was. Steve will always be the major songwriter, I think, but he's really encouraged Phil a lot. He doesn't just sit down and say, 'I want to write all the songs', stuff like that. In fact, everything that Steve's written, he's written with Phil in the same room... Phil's probably involved in eight of the 10 songs on the album."

And what about 'Sav'? He writes too, doesn't he?

"Yeah, but 'Sav's weird; I can't get to grips with him sometimes. More than anyone else in this band he likes your Journeys and your Bryan Adams, occasionally even the odd Duran Duran song, yet he was the one who came up with 'Stagefright' and 'No No No'. And on this new album he's got a number called 'Ring Of Fire' - not a cover of the famous Johnny Cash song! which is an uptempo, thrash, crash, Metal job. He just never writes like the people he listens to."

Will Steve and Phil be sharing the guitar breaks on the new LP?

"Oh yeah, 50/50, right down the middle. Actually, they argue about who's gonna do 'em; not in the sense of, 'I wanna do this', but Phil's telling Steve that he should do a certain solo and Steve's saying, 'No you do it, it's more up your street'. I remember hearing stories about KK (Downing) and Glenn (Tipton) from Priest not talking to each other for four months at a time, but it's the other way round with Steve and Phil. The only thing they argue about is who's gonna buy the drinks!"

What about you, though? You play a bit of guitar...

"Badly!"

...have you written anything on the new record?

"Er... I did come up with some stuff but I don't think it got used. I wrote little bits on the last album, but my main worry is obviously melodies, lyrics and vocals."

"Sometimes, though, we'll have a vocal line and work the backing around that. We've got this one new song, 'Armageddon It', which is Piltdown, just two chords all the way through; it's based around a tongue-in-cheek vocal thing."

Is it a 'Rock Of Ages' type number?

"I suppose it is a bit, yeah. The vocals come out from all over the place once it gets going. It's just a totally stupid lyric... like 'Rock Of Ages', just a piss-take of ourselves, though not mocking the fans in any way."

"And then there's 'Ring Of Fire', which I've already mentioned. It's actually about an Indian meal, the day after, but nobody would ever know that... well, they will now!"

When you're writing lyrics, do you ever think about how the song will work live?

"Not really, no. Obviously, a number like 'Rock Till You Drop' is a stage song, and the same with 'Stagefright', but I've never consciously sat down and thought, well, I'd better come up with two songs about 'Rock This Place To The Ground', or whatever, and one meaningful one about Vietnam, and another about a vigilante in New York. They just turn out that way. You do it in moods. I was probably watching something about Vietnam on TV and 'Die Hard The Hunter' (from the 'Pyromania' LP) came out, and I'd probably been to see 'Deathwish' when I wrote 'Billy's Got A Gun' (also on 'Pyromania'). I can't remember, I just do it."

"I actually wrote 'Photograph' (ditto) while I was sitting on the bog. I was stuck for a chorus and I had a picture of Marilyn Monroe staring me in the face... Bob's your uncle!"

When you made the decision to go for something extra with the 'Pyromania' album, were you confident that you could pull it off?

"We were confident, yeah, very confident, because 'Mutt' was producing. We just had so much faith in the guy and in return he had total confidence in what we were doing. We didn't see how we could go wrong, though Mensch was tearing his hair out when we were nearly a million pounds in debt and the record company were drumming their fingers waiting. I think we had to sell 1.2 million copies of 'Pyromania' to break even, we were in a real big mess..."

"I mean, I nearly had a nervous breakdown, I just couldn't handle it. I was going through so much crap towards the end - do it again, do it again... I got what a lot of singers get, 'Lastitis', which comes from the pressure of finishing. We went through a lot of hell on that record..."

Including, of course, the slightly wobbly exit of young Mr Willis...

"Yeah, but in all honesty I think that did us more good than anything. The thing is, you sometimes take situations for granted and then all of a sudden something like that happens and it's like, wow, it's different, there's only four of us, he's gone, really gone. I mean, Phil joined the day after, but then he almost joined back in '81."

"I tried to get him cos we were having trouble with Willis in America. I rang Phil up and said, 'Can you learn 16 songs in two days?' He said, 'I'll try', but that was just totally out of desperation, there's no way he could have done it. However, when Pete started to act in the studio like he did on tour, which was making Keith Moon look like a bloody vicar, it was time for him to go."

Why doesn't he get some help?

"Well, I think he's beyond help, to tell the truth. He doesn't even realise he needs it, he doesn't accept he's got a problem, though the guy's been in hospital twice as a result of drink and drugs. He had a collapsed liver or something, and epileptic fits, God knows what."

That hasn't happened to the rest of you, though, and you're all the same age, you've all worked your way up together...

"No, it's just him. Pete's always had something to prove, y'see, probably because he's a midget. The guy thought he was 10 feet tall when he was pissed and he'd be taking on people as big as you it didn't work. He was like a gigantic ball and chain around our ankles..."

THE LATEST whisper on Willis is that he's currently swanning around the environs of Sheffield, complete with Rolls Royce and minder, recounting tales of some hush-hush supergroup he might be throwing in his frets with. Elliott finds it hard to take the whole thing seriously, and I think it's fair to say that the recording of album number four is proceeding all the smoother for the wee man's absence.

Already, a number of lead vocals are complete, and the band (employing two studios simultaneously) are steadily piecing together their ten new songs, ready to convince a waiting world that Life After 'Pyromania' does exist.

So what's on the boil? Well, in no particular order, there's 'Armageddon It' and 'Ring Of Fire', already mentioned, 'Excitable', 'Gods Of War', 'Fractured Love', 'Don't Shoot The Shotgun' (Stonesy, I'm assured), 'Animal', 'Love Bites' (a ballad), 'Run Riot' and the enticingly handled 'Women', all proudly produced by the Leppard members themselves, who, without the invaluable 'Mutt' Marten to administer the prods, are taking great and serious pleasure in booting each other up the bum! "Actually, I never envisaged us producing ourselves," admits Joe, "I thought it might be the one thing that would lead to us falling out. It's always been dead important to us that Leppard is a friends situation; we want to keep the element of why we started. Five mates who can still go into the same bar and look each other in the face after seven years. Happily, that's the way it's remained, and producing ourselves is working really well..."

The new album, which now looks set to be mixed by Lange in the UK, an added bonus, should be available by August, after which the band plan to tear up the tarmac on a world tour of, well... y'know. The idea, it seems, is to blow away the studio cobwebs with about eight shows in Ireland, some in smaller places, then steer a course for the UK, perhaps for a September stint (the British dates have already been put back four times!) of 20 or so gigs. A headline appearance at Wembley Arena isn't too far off for the boys, according to Queen's Brian May, a staunch Leppard supporter, but this time around I reckon they'll settle for something a little more cosy.

Next tour, though Europe too seems odds on to cop a visit, particularly as 'Pyromania' has now shifted over 100,000 copies in France and is making a late burst for the tape in Scandinavia as well. Business in Germany, however, remains a little slow, and as for Holland... well, now we're talking about a massive 639 units shifted. Still, at least it means the band don't have to worry about being recognised. Def what?!

By December Leppard should be into America, after which it's likely they'll travel to Japan, though probably not Australia, that stage of the tour having lost them around 60 grand last Feb. Indeed, all in all, their schedule will be less arduous than last time, including more days off to recover and recharge. The band should certainly feel healthier as a result, but then with the Rick Allen episode having shocked the Leppard camp into a highly body-conscious state, that's the way things are heading anyway "I don't want to waste away and vegetate," explains Joe. "I'm 25, I'm supposed to be at the peak of my fitness; I'm supposed to be Glenn Hoddle but I wasn't. I'd run a mile and be out of breath. Now I can run a six minute mile, no trouble, and I do half an hour's worth of exercises every day. 'Sav', Phil and myself all go jogging too - we take less for granted now than we did before..."

[writingsofwesteros]

Can you do Harwin strong x Targaryen reader where they have three sons and he’s teaching them how to fight where one of her ladies in waiting rushes towards them to let him know his wife is in labor and she gives birth to their first daughter. Just lots off fluff with daddy Harwin and just have a loving family moment.

AN:Hi, I hope you like it x

“Keep your shield up.” Harwin softly chastised his youngest boy whose pout was his only answer. The other two sons chuckled together as they fought each other. Harwin’s eyes looked up to see the King watching. He was thankful of the King’s blessing of the marriage and he knew the sight of his grandchildren made him happy.

Harwin himself has never been so happy, he thought to himself when picking up his youngest. “We shall have a rest then.” His little one hummed and burrowed into his neck as he moved around the courtyard and placed the equipment away. “You always make us train.” His eldest son called to him.

Harwin could only chuckle loudly. “I thought you enjoyed this.” He teased the lad who only huffed in response. The sight warmed his heart as he settled his youngest on top of the crate. “You are going to be a big brother soon.” Harwin hummed. “Will it be another brother?” His middle boy spoke out.

“You don’t want another brother?” Harwin teased as he collected the swords from the two sons as well. “I don’t think so.” His youngest mumbled and he turned his head to pick up the cheeky boy. “We shall see. It’s in the hands of the Gods.” Harwin hummed and settled the youngest on his lap.

He would be happy with a healthy babe and wife. Of course, the idea of a little girl had his heart warming but it was out of his hands. “You have to remember to be gentle with the babe.” Harwin whispered before placing his head gently against his oldest. “You are always a good lad.” He praised his boy.

Harwin would have stayed there forever with them but the sounds of rushing feet had his attention. “Ser..” A lady of your household came running over; picking up her skirts as she did. “The labour has begun.” The words had Harwin stalling for only a moment before he realised what was happening.

“Mama will be okay?” His oldest whispered up at Harwin as he guided the boys quickly into their home. “Of course.” Harwin promised; not truly knowing himself but he couldn’t have his sons worried. The ladies of the household were able to take the boys from him whilst he continued walking towards the birthing room.

He looked back over his shoulder once more as his son’s worried faces locked on his before they were guided away. Your screams of pain echoed around the halls as Harwin forced himself to move. You deserved to have him with you; somebody with you as he had done throughout all the labours.

The sight that greeted him had fear and love rushing through him all at once. You were so beautiful, even like this. “Harwin.” You whispered out; able to smile even in this situation as your hands gripped the sheets. The mere sight of him was enough for a calmness to spread over you. 

“I’m here.” The Knight promised you as he slowly moved to sit beside you. His hands gently cupped your face as your head rested on his own. You hummed through the pain as soft whimpers escaped you. “You are doing so well, my love.” Harwin whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

His words were usually such comfort but now you could hardly breath through the pain. Your hand tightened on his and you completely missed his flash of pain coming over his face. You also missed the chuckle escaping your midwife as they ordered you to push over and over again. 

You were about to scream at them when Harwin gently brought you into his chest. He could always read you so well. “So close now.” He whispered and brought his larger hand up and down your back. You softly panted and grabbed at his tunic; your knuckles nearly white as you whimpered out again and again.

“Oh gods..” You cried out and this time the tears did fall and finally the child was free of you. Or you were free of the child; you weren’t sure anymore. Your head fell back onto the comfortably pillows behind you whilst Harwin continued to hold your hand. The child would be cleaned and given to them soon enough.

He needed to look after you. You hummed and burrowed into his neck as his calming scent washed over you. “Here you go, my Princess.” The midwife smiled as she brought the healthy, bouncing baby girl into your arms. “A girl?” You whispered out with your eyes so wide and excited. 

“A girl?” Harwin whispered in shock; his heart warming at the mere idea. Those dark eyes of his warmed as he peeked over your shoulder. The baby girl cuddled into the blanket keeping her warm. “She’s beautiful.” The Knight whispered and his larger hand moved to gently stroke her cheek.

You smiled lovingly as you watched the pair. The dynamic would shift with a baby girl in the mix but Harwin was already so sweet. You allowed him to take her from your hold and brought the baby closer. “I don’t think there is anyone more protected than you.” Harwin whispered to his daughter.

You couldn’t help but agree with him as a soft giggle escaped you. It wasn’t long that you could heal when the thundering footsteps of your boys came into the room. You smiled your thanks and dismissed the ladies so your family could have some privacy. “Hello boys.” You hummed and moved to sit up.

They gently crowded onto the bed after having a lot of practice with this. You held your arms out for them to move as your youngest cuddled into your side. “Another brother?” Your son hummed and you smirked at the disappointment in his face. Harwin locked eyes with you lovingly as his own smile only widened. 

“No…a girl this time.” You announced and the soft commotion the boys made had you giggling. You watched Harwin gently pat the boys away when they crowded. “Careful lads.” He hummed and moved to kneel down for them to see. “She’s precious.” Your youngest whispered out and you could only melt.

“Yes, she is.” Harwin hummed as you sleepily rested your head once more. Your fingers moved into the curls of your middle son. The pain was finally leaving you and all that you were left with was the happiness of the moment. Such blessings you had been given, you thought as the boys whispered together.

[t-z-gow]

Sure thing! However I do keep things gender neutral in my stories unless it's necessary for it to be gendered. It's just so everyone can enjoy!

This one got a little long so I decided I'd have to make it a two part story. I'll start working on the next part soon! (Also hope you don't mind but I added a bit of Freya ^-^;)

PLATONIC Kratos x Freya & Child Reader ~ Silence [Pt 1]

Cold and abandoned was the child Kratos had found in the final remnants of the Fimbulwinter snow. Surprised to see them breathing he was swift to find them help with the Godess Freya.

He could not have known the path that decision would lead him down.

TW: Child Abandonment, Alluding to Child Abuse/Neglect/Harm

Softly yet with swift feet two wolves ran through the deep snow, following the orders of Kratos as he held their reins. Despite the sound of the moving sled the world was rather quiet; almost too quiet.

The constant snow of Fimbulwinter had finally ceased, though that wasn't the end of the snowy landscape. It would take many summers to thaw the sheets of ice that had been created, not to mention how fleeting those summers were, soon replaced by familiar cold again.

It was times like these, traveling around the expanses of the realms in utter silence, that he began to miss his son. To miss his questions, to miss the stories Mimir and him would tell. For the first time in a very long time he found himself uncomfortable in the silence. So uncomfortable in fact that he almost went to ask Mimir for a story, though thought better of it. Mimir had done enough of that over the past few days with the Midguardian children he had been entertaining. He was sure that the man had to be tired of speaking by now-

"So brother, how's the new title been treatin' ya? God of the people and all that" the head that lay in the sled asked. The question caught the quiet god off guard, though he answered after only a moment. He hated the silence.

"They talk a lot" was all he could comment, earning a chuckle from Mimir.

"Or perhaps you talk too little" Mimir pondered back, earning a grunt in response.

"I do not intend to change that" he spoke as his eyes turned to look around the environment, always searching for any possible danger ahead.

Instead his eyes froze on a figure on the ice, all too noticeable against the pure white snow. Seeing as the scene was out of the ordinary he turned his sled towards it, approaching whomever the figure was.

"Course not. Wouldn't expect-...where ya headin' lad?" Mimir asked, quickly noticing the strange change in direction. Kratos didn't speak for a moment, his eyes narrowing to try and see who the figure might be, but still being too far out.

"There is someone on the ice" he responded with a quiet grumble as he approached. The closer he got the more he slowed, taking caution with whoever might be on the snow. Or, more accurately, what might have caused their collapsed state. Only once he was a few feet out that he realized the person slumped held the features of a human. Getting even closer allowed him to notice that they were a child. He sped a little faster towards the end seeing as the situation grew quite a bit grimmer at the realization. Noticing this sudden hastiness Mimir spoke up again.

"What is it brother!" He called out, only to once again receive no response from Kratos who quickly stopped the sled before immediately stepping off of it. He moved just as swiftly to the limp body, only a few steps between. A dread fell in the air, Mimirs worried yells blurring into the sound of the wind.

It was a sight no person would ever wish to see, let alone one who had a child of their own. Yet it was a sight so horribly familiar for the scarred man. The tiny hands frozen in a grasp, the eyes shut in a disturbing calm. He quickly pushed those thoughts away though, instead kneeling to the ground beside the child, his eyes holding a darker look as he stared.

He had at first thought them dead. He had known the ice to preserve bodies long after their deaths and it wasn't entirely uncommon to find the ice melting to reveal hidden corpses. However that wasn't the case here, especially once he noticed the ragged yet still visible rise and fall of the child's chest. The instant he noticed he flew into action, picking up the abandoned child and bringing them back to the sled, laying them in a seat beside him as he sat back at the reins.

"What in the bloody- who-"

"It is a child. They are still alive" he finally answered Mimir before immediately mushing the wolves along.

-

Heavy. Every bone in your body, every ounce of blood running through your veins. It felt as if every force imaginable pulled you to the earth. After a long enough time held in the silent void, you began to finally push against it. The first few attempts were incredibly difficult and after the third try you began to wonder if it was pointless. It was then though that you began to feel your tongue in your mouth, and the heaviness of the air that made it to your chest. Confused and fearful you tried to call out to the void. But your tongue might as well have been made of metal with how near impossible it was to bend to make coherent sounds. The only noise to leave your lips was a half attempt at a groan. Realizing this your fear grew as you tried, in blind panic, to move anything, to do so much as speak a word. You felt your body adjust slightly, but nothing besides that.

"Shhh shhh. It's alright child" a voice called. You stopped your attempts upon hearing it, confusion flooding through you. The voice was soft and feminine, almost motherly, its tone not of any malice or anger. You felt the touch of a hand on your head; warm and comforting. The strange new presence was calming despite you not even fully understanding it. So you leaned into the hand, seeking more of that comforting feeling.

"It's alright. Rest now" the voice called again. Lulled by its words you stopped pushing against the strange heaviness, allowing your breath to slow and your body to relax, your mind leaving not long after.

Freya felt a smile cross her lips, as melancholy as it felt, as she stared down at the sleeping child. Her hand still held gently to their face as she carefully brushed her thumb against their cheek. She had learned after quite a while of their sounds that they seemed to calm their whining under her touch.

Only after they seemed to have fallen back to sleep did she stand once more, even if every fiber of her being called her back into their presence.

"Are they well?" the familiar voice of Kratos spoke behind her. She didn't jump as she had many times before, having grown used to his sudden appearances. She instead stood and went back to mixing her medicine, knowing that the child would need it upon waking.

"I managed to save their life," she quickly answered as her look grew grim once more, her eyes glancing back at the child that lay sleeping on the table.

"But not without a few consequences" she finished her words with an undertone of agitation, clearly unhappy with the outcome.

The wood of the floor creaked under the heavy foot of Kratos as he stepped closer. His eyes didn't stray from the child for even a second until he took a spot next to Freya.

"And what might those be?" Mimir asked. Upon hearing him speak Kratos removed him from his belt and placed him on the table so that he could more easily speak to them. Freya glanced up at him but seemed far more focused on grinding down the seeds in her bowl.

"I was unable to save three of their fingers, they were far too frostbitten. And while they remain asleep now, they are restless. The spell I used to save their life has some painful after-effects. Which is why we needed these," she motioned to her bowl as her movements became a little more aggressive, though not enough to warrant stopping her.

"Consequences are a given. They are lucky to live" Kratos spoke in some sort of attempt to calm her as he outstretched the final herbs she would need. She turned to meet his eye, her stare dark and burning. He didn't flinch. He didn't even stop staring at her. After a long moment she shook her head, taking the herb from him and continuing her task.

"You're lucky I even returned to this place" she mumbled with a slight sneer.

Silence reigned in a long pause, though that wasn't necessarily uncommon for them. After a few minutes though he left her side, instead turning his attention to the child in the bed. He hesitated, unsure if he should so much as go near the fragile being. Nevertheless, his concern soon pulled him forward and he approached the sleeping kid.

The first thing he noticed was the scars. Littered across their face in noticeable slashes and burns was a history he didn't yet know, but it was all but pretty. His eyes glanced back to Freya when he noticed this, wondering if this was what had her so on edge. Seeing a child with such harm done to them surely wasn't something she was comfortable with.

"The child...they hold many scars" he mentioned, her body tensing at his words.

"I noticed that" she replied, her hands further busying themselves. He was going to turn back to the child, hoping to maybe find some clue as to how they ended up on the ice of Midgard when Freya spoke again.

"They're Aesir" She commented, finally stopping her work to turn to him. He quickly turned his attention to her, his already hardened look narrowing at the comment.

"How did you learn this?" He asked, to which she nodded towards a nearby chair that held the outfit you had been wearing earlier. As torn as it was, Freya knew the design all too well.

"Their clothes. You only find quality like that with Aesir gods. Or at least, that was the case," she elaborated, taking the small bowl in her hand and bringing it to the fire. Mimir, having stayed quiet for a long while now as he clearly felt the tension in the room, finally decided to speak once again.

"Aesir gods? Are you sayin' the wee one's part of the Aesir?" He questioned, Freya nodding along with the words.

"Yes. That or they were somehow involved with them. I hadn't heard any mention of any Aesir gods having children before Ragnarök though. They usually make new family a big deal" Freya's agitation grew more clear the longer she talked, the venom of her words palpable. Both Kratos and Mimir thought on the words for a minute, unsure what any of this could mean. Freya poured her solution into the metal pot above the fire before beginning to mix it in.

"Should we speak to Sif about this?" Kratos suggested, the question giving Freya a slight pause before she shook her head.

"No. She's far too busy. Besides, she was always more concerned with her family than the matters of the Aesir. She wouldn't know" Freya continued her mixing, the two further thinking on the strangeness of the situation.

"Well if they're really part of the Aesir I'm sure she's bound ta have a clue at least. Wouldn't hurt ta talk to her," Mimir pushed, not letting the idea go. The room was quiet for a moment as Freya thought it over. After mixing a little longer she finally responded.

"Sure, she might know...but she isn't going to enjoy the intrusion" she reiterated as she took the pot from the flames, placing it on a metal rack to cool. Turning back to the two of them Freya's features held clear skepticism. She didn't seem to like the idea and the two of them were quickly picking that up.

"Well it seems like our best shot at finding the wee one's parents. I don' think we got much else ta go on" Mimir continued trying to convince her. Freya's eyes strayed from him, glancing back at the child that lay silently before looking back to the two.

"The last time I saw someone try to talk to Sif she nearly pulled their head off for getting in the way of her work. She's consumed with trying to rebuild her home and keeping the peace between the Aesir and the Vanier. Not to mention trying to keep Thrúd out of trouble. She's been a wreck since...well you both already know" Freya continued to explain her reasons for her hesitance. Yet even the thought of being attacked by Sif didn't drive Mimir away from his stance.

"But you two were friends weren't you? Surely she wouldn't be too harsh with ya, 'specially considerin' you're Vanir...worst-case scenario she just sends ya on your way-" Mimir's words suddenly stopped when a strange sound covered the room, causing Freya's eyes to widen as she quickly moved. Confused, Kratos turned to see the child.

Their eyebrows knitted as they tossed and turned in their spot, groaning in some sort of pain. It was only seconds later that Freya was at their side, trying to calm the clearly upset child with sweet shushes and comforting touches. A few seconds later the sounds stopped and the child found rest once more. She remained staring for a moment longer before finally turning over her shoulder to the two, both of them now very aware of her true reason for hesitance. The sudden silence made her aware of their knowing and, with a sigh, she stood.

"The child is still in need of help. They're going to be sick for a while. Finding their parents isn't a priority right now." She conveyed with a truer tone than before, her face twisted in concern. A bit of hesitance lingered, the two realizing the extent of Freya's concerns. After a while, Mimir finally spoke.

"Well I suppose you're right...but we can't put it off for too long. Their parents are probably worried sick" Mimir finally relented and Kratos agreed with a hum. Freya seemed to calm a little as they agreed.

"Would you wish for us to stay?" Kratos asked. The words seemed to catch Freya a little off guard, but she soon nodded.

"It would be best. I have business with the Valkyries in the morning" she agreed. Kratos gave a nod, knowing he had nothing else planned for the day anyway.

-

You were here again. The darkness, the numbness, the heavy weight. But something felt...different this time. The air that flowed through your lungs felt lighter, your body not as held in place. Noticing this you once again tried to fight against the pull of this unknown force and find yourself outside of this strange purgatory, to finally make some sort of full movement. And, to your utter surprise, you moved your arm.

It was then that a searing pain shot through your body, radiating from the core of your very being and singeing every nerve you had. You shot up, your eyes opening fully as you instantly began to scream in utter agony. Despite your eyes being open you could hardly begin to understand anything that was going on as you cried out, your balance shifting and your muscles stiff. You didn't hear the frantic footsteps, nor did you feel the pull of hands on you, gently grabbing and tugging to move you. You had no energy to stop them even if you did, your body feeling as weak as it had when you fell to the ice. Your mind could do nothing but focus on that pain, that white radiating feeling of suffering.

Something was raised to your lips and you once again didn't fight, not even as the warm liquid began to fall down your throat. Your body's instincts kicked in long enough to stop your crying and drink whatever this was without choking. After a few moments your adrenaline had pumped enough to allow your arms to push away whatever it was. Your head shook as the disgusting taste overtook your tongue. You went into a coughing fit not even a second after as you tried to rid yourself of that horrible taste. Suddenly though the pain racking through your body began to melt away, numbing in slow waves. As it did the world around you began to come into view along with the other sensations of the world. Such as the rolling tears down your face, the comfortable warmth against your skin, and your quick breaths that you tried rather poorly to calm. The next thing you felt was something rubbing slow circles on your back before whispered words met your ears.

"Shh shhh, It's alright child" a voice softly shushed, now allowing you to fully recognize the presence of someone else beside you. The instant you did your fluttering heart nearly stopped, your body quickly shifting in an attempt to get away, nearly falling off of whatever you were on as you did. Their hands grabbed you and your eyes tightly shut as they did, afraid of what they might do.

You were gently pulled back into your previous spot before the hands left you entirely. Slowly opening your eyes once more you came face to face with an utter stranger.

"Are you alright?" The strange woman asked. You stared silently at her, unsure of anything that was happening. You had remembered falling into the cold snow, tired and weak and now you were here...

Where was here exactly? And who was this stranger? And why did everything hurt so bad? Nothing made sense to you. So you gave no answer.

The lack of answer seemed to upset the woman, if only slightly. She continued to stare at you for a moment longer before.

BAM!

The sound immideatly frightened you and seemingly the woman as well. Your body flinched away and this time, without the woman's help, you fell. You didn't seem to stop once you'd fallen, using what little strength you had to shakingly try and stand. You made it only a few steps before you fell once more. You quickly turned around to face the sound, scooting away as you did so. You then found yourself locking eyes with a terrifying man.

Tall and scarred with eyes the color of a blazing fire. He wielded an ax that looked sharp enough to cut through bone and an all too eye-catching bright red tattoo that swirled around the left of his body.

Even more terrified than before you quickened your attempt to scoot away, hoping that the distance would keep you from him. Suddenly his eyes turned from you and towards the woman. You didn't dare turn your eyes from him though.

"I heard screaming" the man spoke, the sound deep enough to almost be physically felt. The woman quickly regained her composure as she stood and stared at the man with no fear in her stature.

"I told you there would be consequences" she reiterated, soon standing from her spot and quickly approaching you. You continued to back away but it wasn't long until you ran out of space, your back hitting a wall and panic consuming you.

"It's alright. We aren't going to hurt you" she spoke, trying to comfort you. It didn't seem to help as she continued to step closer. She stopped her movements upon noticing her approach was what was further frightening you. She didn't really know what to do at this point, something that showed in her hesitant stare and uncertain movements.

You, however, weren't paying attention to that. You were instead trying to figure out what was going on, trying to remember how you had gotten here, or maybe if you somehow knew these people-

A short glimpse at your hands froze every previous thought and motion, your eyes widening further as you realized a few of your fingers were missing. You felt your breath leave you, dread and terror consuming you as absolute shock ran through your system.

What happened to your hands?

Everything became a blurred mess, nothing made sense. Utterly overwhelmed and at a complete loss, you fainted.

Freya moved towards you the instant you went out, her worry apparent. Kratos stared at this scene with very little to add other than concern and confusion, which he kept rather hidden in his usual silence. Freya quickly returned you to your previous spot before letting out a held breath. Kratos finally moved, soon taking a spot next to Freya.

"What happened?" He asked as he glanced to the child.

"They woke up sooner than they were supposed to. The spell hadn't been able to fully settle. I thought it might happen, which is why I made that medicine earlier. I hadn't expected them to be up this though" Freya explained as she sat down.

Looking at her closely it was clear to see that she was beyond tired. From the slow movements to the quiet speech. The stress of this unexpected task was starting to get to her, which was all but a good sign. Yet the quiet remained, and the silence was all but comforting now.

Silence. It was always so quiet now. Too quiet. Too still.

"You should rest" Kratos finally spoke, her eyes snapping to him at the request. She was dumbfounded to find a serious look on his face, despite knowing full well that he never said anything he didn't mean.

"I-...This child is going to wake up again-"

"And I will handle it" he quickly answered back. She was further baffled by his commitment to his statement as she began to wonder if he had seen what she had.

"Kratos I can't just leave a sick child! What if the medicine wears?! Or- Or they panic again-"

"I will handle it" Kratos once again stood by his words, though there was a difference in it this time. Freya couldn't quite pin down the new strange quality to his tone. Determination? Worry? She didn't quite know. Either way, it instilled a lot more confidence in his capability. He seemed to think he could do this and she had no reason to doubt his assessment of his abilities. So, with another cautious stare, she slowly stood back up.

"Alright...but I will be checking back in the morning." She prefaced to which she earned nothing more than a nod of acknowledgment from him. With that she left for bed, too tired to argue further.

-

Slowly but surely your body began pushing you from sleep once again. Though, unlike your previous attempts, you no longer felt held down by unknown forces. In fact you couldn't feel anything other than a mild sting rushing through your body.

Despite being awake you didn't move for a few moments, almost afraid to do so. However your other bodily functions began to overcome that, such as hunger and thirst, so you eventually forced your eyes open. It seemed almost impossible but they did eventually open.

The world that met you was strange. Warm and dim yet not dark. Light poured gently through the windows, though it wasn't bright. It held a hue of early morning blue, a color that only barely lulled the dread growing within you.

You began to slowly sit up, your world falling blurry before slowly coming back into focus. Once it did you tried to take some deep breaths, hoping to escape the nervousness that grew upon realizing you had no clue where you were.

You hardly had time to do that though as your senses were filled with an absolutely mouthwatering smell. One that caused you to instantly salivate as your stomach rumbled. You tried to think about how long it had been since you had last eaten but instead found your memories quite jumbled. Your brain could barely focus on thinking when you felt nothing but hunger pull at you.

In fact, that hunger seemed to outweigh the nervousness coursing through you as you found yourself willing to stand to follow the smell. You hesitated for a short moment, part of you realizing you had no clue what was going on. But that soon left your mind as well. Everything left but a need to eat.

You were starving.

So you stood anyway, your legs wobbling as you barely caught yourself on a nearby chair. You stabilized yourself, taking breaths as you gained some strength in your legs. This part was never easy, but you weren't unfamiliar with it. Of holding on to something just to stand, of feeling weakness and exhaustion trying to pull you to the ground once more. But you shoved the weakness away. You shoved it deep down and buried it.

This wasn't a world for the weak.

You carefully let go of the chair, shoving away the fragility of your body as you tried to walk. You drifted with each step, almost losing your balance a few times as you did, but you walked all the same. Slowly you made your way closer and closer but abruptly stopped when the only thing that could override your hunger set it.

Fear

Why did the sudden fear rack through you? Well it might just have something to do with the truly terrifying man you saw mixing the source of the smell. Tall, scarred, and with a scowl that brought up more than a few bad memories. You ducked, quickly hiding behind whatever was closest to you.

Unfortunately your swiftness cost stealth, as seen by a cup you managed to knock over upon hiding behind a small table. The man promptly looked up from the pot, his bright amber eyes staring squarely in your direction. He stared for a short time before glancing at where you had once been laying. After that the harsh stare in his eyes calmed and he looked back to his food.

You had thought you had sufficiently hid yourself for a moment, though his voice quickly shot down that idea.

"You should be resting," he spoke, his voice more than matching his face. Gruff and deep with an almost damaged sense to it. As if used and worn over years.

Terror struck back through you like a lightning bolt as you froze. Silence reigned for a long while, the only sounds being him tending to the food. After a moment he moved the pot to which you quickly backed up in response.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, his voice slightly softer than just a second ago. His words greatly piqued your interest, so much so that you almost instinctively responded. Yet you stopped yourself, knowing that this situation could very well be dangerous. So you chose silence once more and hoped that by doing so he might just act as if you had disappeared

Such a thing would never happen of course, but your child-like mind allowed you to believe so.

Your silence didn't seem to bother him. Or more so his features didn't turn any scarier than they already were. He merely continued his actions unbothered by your presence as he grabbed a bowl and dealt out some of the food he had made.

His disregard confused you slightly. It was enough to dull your fear with a hint of deadly curiosity which in turn allowed your hunger to once again overtake them both. Your eyes glued to the bowl he was making as he continued not to look at you, instead putting the pot back over the fire. Afterward he walked away in a direction opposite to you.

"If you will not rest then you should eat," he voiced as he walked, soon leaving your vision altogether. You could still hear him, his large size not allowing for much of any quiet as he walked. He was far enough away now though that you felt safe to leave your hiding spot, even if you did so rather slowly. After peeking just a bit to make sure he wasn't anywhere near, you began to walk. You did so with very little grace, something anyone near was sure to hear as you stumbled into more than a few objects, but you did eventually make it to the table with food. You peeked out again, spotting him with his back turned as he focused on something else. With your eyes held on him for any sudden movements and your stomach practically begging for whatever was in the bowl, you climbed your way onto a chair. You had to sit on your knees just to reach the table, but that didn't bother you too much.

You stared at him a moment longer, as if waiting for him to turn and attack. When he didn't you reached for the spoon.

It was then that you were very swiftly and very horrifically reminded of your injuries from earlier. Wrapped in stained red bandages was the stump of what was supposed to be your middle finger. Looking to the other hand you found your index and pinky finger missing. Your throat tightened as you looked at the wounds, the terror of your current situation hitting you once more. What was weirder was the lack of pain as you looked at it. It felt almost entirely unreal, the shock of your body almost allowing you to believe that it truly was.

Despite the horrifying new sight and with truely no idea what you were supposed to do in this situation, you chose to ignore it. Because that's all you had been trained to do, that's the only recourse you had. To ignore it until it stopped, if it ever did.

You instead chose to focus on eating the meal, knowing that it could very well be the only one you eat for a long while. You cherished every bite as if you had never eaten a day in your life. You had been so hungry. So incredibly and indescribably hungry.

"Are you in any pain?" The man asked, slightly startling you from your meal. He didn't turn to look at you as he spoke, still busy with what he was doing. You found it almost comforting that he did so since it would allow you more time to get away if need be. Overtaken by the food, his vulnerable stance, and the overwhelming realization that your silence could potentially annoy and even possibly anger him, you decided to finally speak.

"No" was all you could really say, your voice frail and almost whisper-like. If it weren't for the silence it might even not have been heard. In response he gave a simple 'hm' and let you get back to eating.

Before you knew it the bowl was empty. As far as you were concerned you could have had ten more. Still, you weren't about to ask for anything more. That was the most food you'd had in months, you weren't about to push it.

Finally he turned to you, his movement immediately catching your eye. This time though since he was no longer hidden behind something he was able to make direct eye contact with you. To your dismay, it seemed to be something he had no problem doing. You, however, shrunk under the unmistakable power of his gaze.

"You need your bandages replaced" he commented, your eyes glancing at the bloodied bandages for only a split second before turning back to him. You quickly noticed the bandages he held in his hands and soon got what he was trying to say. You struggled to swallow with the sudden dryness of your throat, but you knew there was no other answer you could give that wouldn't have the potential to upset him. So you gave a slow and reluctant nod.

He then walked back over to the table, your heart beating ten times for every one of his slow steps. Once he was close he kneeled on the ground in front of you. You leaned away, your eyes fixated on every small movement he made, waiting for any of them to be suddenly violent. He remained slow and purposeful.

Once he was ready he held out his hand to you. As slow as the movement was, you still flinched. After realizing the gesture was harmless you calmed slightly, though you remained very significantly on edge.

You didn't move for a minute longer, waiting for an anger that never came. When silence was left and his features didn't falter from their calm yet intense stare, you finally held out your hand for him to bandage. And, to your relief, it hadn't been a trick to trap you as he did in fact move to re-bandage your wounds.

Your eyes avoided him entirely as he worked. You didn't know this stranger, nor what he wanted. So you were keen on keeping your edge of paranoia for the time being. Even though his help and silence calmed you down quite a lot.

He had only helped you thus far, but you knew better than to trust that.

"Do you have a name?" He asked, suddenly breaking the silence. You shrunk away at his voice, though with him wrapping your hands you weren't able to go too far. You once again calmed rather quickly, though your jumpiness was becoming very apparent.

Afraid that he might become upset with your silence you responded.

"Y/n'' you spoke, though the hesitance in telling him such a thing was very noticeable in the way the name paused slightly on your tongue. He nodded, another 'hm' leaving. Silence continued again, circling suffocatingly around the room. And suddenly thoughts plagued your mind. Questions of your own formed in your head and terrified you to the core. Questions that, being only a child, were bound to spill out.

"Where am I?" You finally asked your own question, though as you did the pure reality of what that question meant fell onto you as your voice cracked and tears unwillingly began to form. Where were you? What happened? Why were you hurt? You just wanted to go home, just be home- just home, just home, home, home-

A hand landed on your shoulder, snapping you back to reality almost immediately. Only then did you notice the wet trails that fell down your cheeks and the hiccups you tried and failed to hold back. However, you were more focused on the sudden contact, your head popping up to look at the hand before turning to the man in front of you. You had expected anger, maybe even a violent glint in his eyes. You were instead surprised to find the opposite written on his face. Soft and concerned, the intensity once held in them now fully calmed. It shocked you to see as the expression so foreign to you. Oddly enough though it did greatly calm you to his presence. It was a look you very rarely ever saw, let alone from someone you had initially thought of as utterly terrifying. No words were exchanged as your tears stopped and your breathing slowed again. You quickly went to wipe away the tears before looking away from him again.

"Sorry," Was all you could think to say. It got yet another hum from him, though you couldn't quite decipher what it meant this time. He removed his hand from your shoulder before speaking.

"You should rest. We can talk more when you are well" he spoke, though you more easily noticed the softness in it than before. You nodded, not looking to disagree with the stranger. So you tried to stand again, knowing you would have to walk back to the bed. You barely took a step when your body began to give out once more, your weight leaned more onto the chair than your legs. He quickly noticed this and, before you could make any protest, you were no longer on the ground.

You yelped at the sudden action, freezing as you quickly covered your head. It was only a few moments later, after a few of his heavy steps, that you were gently placed back down. Once his contact ceased you began to slowly open your eyes again, realizing that he had inflicted no pain. Suddenly you felt the warmth of a blanket placed on top of you as he had picked it up from where you had dropped it onto the floor. The comfort of it along with the warmth of everything around you and your full stomach began to make you feel the heavy weight of your eyelids as you fought to keep them open.

He gave one final 'hm' before walking away to attend to his own tasks. With nothing more to do and just too exhausted to push on, you laid your head back down, quickly wrapping the warm blanket around yourself. It was barely a second before you drifted back to sleep.

[whumpzone]

Linden & Colton - 27

(masterlist)

wow, it's been a while. the main story is back on track! this chapter was ridiculously hard to write, but im finally happy enough to post it :-)

(slang note: a slash = a piss)

CW: pet whump, dehumanisation

-

Linden flipped the business card around between his fingers, flicking the edge with his thumb like it would help him make his mind up. He didn’t want to get involved. Dom seemed nice and Sooty seemed… hm. Linden couldn’t convince himself that Sooty seemed anything. His calm demeanour could be hiding all manner of things underneath. He still didn’t want to get involved.

But then he thought, what if Dom was well meaning, but he had a friend who wasn’t? What if Dom went to someone else for pet-rearing tips? What if Sooty got hurt, taken advantage of, by someone right under Dom’s nose? Or Dom was convinced that hurting him was for the best?

Linden knew the guilt would eat him alive, so he reluctantly tapped the number into his phone.

“DT Plumbing and Heating?”

“Hey Dom, it’s, uh, it’s Linden. You gave me your card a week or so ago?”

“Oh, hi mate!” he replied, instantly sounding more upbeat. “I’m glad you called! Up for having your brains picked, then?”

“That’s one way of putting it…” Linden joked weakly.

“Yeah, great stuff, great stuff. What’s your availability? Shall we say… tomorrow evening? Free house then, you see. Suzie has piano lessons and the missus is hosting a lecture,” Dom told him.

“Tomorrow evening is fine. It’ll be a lads night.”

Dom laughed, to Linden’s relief. Maybe his social skills were better than he gave himself credit for. “Do you drink?”

“Eh, a little bit.”

“Great. Bring round whatever you fancy. See you!”

The call ended abruptly and Linden pulled the phone away from his ear with a small smile. He hadn’t exactly planned on buying drinks for Dom and himself but… perhaps that was just the way of the world.

-

Dom did most of the talking. Despite, Linden thought wryly, the whole point of the evening being that Dom wanted to ask Linden questions.

Linden listened patiently despite this, feeling a twinge of regret for judging Dom when he evidently had a lot to get off his chest. As he carried on, Linden’s eyes frequently flicked to the pet knelt by his side.

Sooty hadn’t moved a single inch since Linden had arrived, over thirty minutes ago. He simply knelt, breathing evenly and staring straight ahead. His face was just taut enough that it didn’t look like he was daydreaming. It seemed like he was waiting. Perfectly obedient. At his owner’s beck and call.

Sooty wasn’t even looking at him, and yet Linden still felt as though he’d won the staring contest when he pulled his own eyes away, focusing back on Dom once more.

Dom had dressed down for the occasion, which Linden took as a good sign. He had on a retro fleece, white with a shock of blue across the chest, and his top knot had been thrown up with just enough loose hairs to look effortless and still cool- a skill Linden had never acquired.

Eventually Dom excused himself, citing the need for “another beer and a slash”, and then Linden was alone.

Well, not quite alone.

Sooty being right there while Dom discussed him was more than a little uncomfortable. Not to mention it was probably terrifying for Sooty- to hear his owner discuss punishments in terms of when, not if. It at least made Linden thankful that Dom had hardly asked his advice so far. If he had to participate in the idea of punishments as a source of guidance for a pet, Linden was sure he would never gain Sooty’s trust. Perhaps just listening to Dom was participation enough, though. Linden was finding it tremendously hard to interject.

He had to say something to the pet. Nothing conspiratorial or confusing. Just something friendly, something to make him feel respected.

He didn’t think before he actually spoke, guided by a mixture of muscle memory and the knowledge that Dom would return soon. “Sooty… can you look at me?”

As mechanically as a switch flicking, Sooty’s eyes went from the wall to Linden’s face. And held.

Linden hadn’t realised how unused he was to a pet actually maintaining eye contact. Col would usually manage a second or two at most, before the tension and perceived disobedience overpowered him. But Sooty had been ordered, and so he stared at Linden evenly.

He was surely awaiting some order, but his face showed no sign of apprehension or desperation. Sooty’s eyes were a darker brown than Linden’s, and he could see himself reflected in them.

It was startling. Linden quirked his mouth up into a crooked smile. All thoughts of what to say went out of his head.

“Hey.”

“Sir.”

“You uh…”

So far, his conversation with Dom had established a few truths, one being that Sooty hadn’t yet needed punishing. Sooty was extraordinarily well-behaved. Part of that didn’t surprise Linden, given his evident self-control. But Sooty was primarily under the thumb of a child, one that was just stepping into the whirlpool of puberty, and he also had two protective parents to watch out for. He would fall on somebody’s bad side one day.

Linden could see Sooty for what he was- a man in his twenties. Who had been purchased to hang out with an eleven-year-old girl. It certainly proved that Dom was unable to see Sooty as anything other than a smart dog.

“Do you like it here? Is your owner nice?”

Sooty actually allowed a shard of emotion to glint through. Pride, perhaps, or relief. “Sir will know that an opinion is not feasible for me. However… yes, my young Miss is very fair.”

God, he was even worse than Colton. At least Col only said he wasn’t allowed opinions. Sooty was trying to convince Linden it was a full-on biological impossibility.

“I have a pet too, at home. I’m looking after him. You might meet him, one day.”

If there had been anything on Sooty’s face, it was gone in a heartbeat, and what returned was perhaps even more stony than before. “Yes, Sir. My Master has mentioned what a sweet specimen he is.”

A-ha. There was the first tiny crack. No doubt Dom would have preferred a slightly more friendly companion. Sooty was hardly smiling up at him and begging for head pats.

Linden heard the toilet flush from somewhere upstairs, and quickly poured half of his beer into a nearby plant pot. He’d take the monstera cursing him over having to explain that he found beer disgusting.

As Dom sat back down, Linden quickly grasped for something he could talk about comfortably that was in eyeshot- avoiding Sooty like the plague- and asked Dom how long he’d been growing his hair out for.

“Well, it’s obviously no match for yours, but I’ve had it like this for a while now…”

-

Dom concluded by stressing that Suzie loved the pet, it was definitely going well so far, he was just worried that he’d mess up while Sooty was still new. What if he was developing bad habits and Dom was too inexperienced to notice? What if Sooty got too complacent and started acting out? Would the odd punishment for no reason keep him on his best behaviour? What if it made him nervous or jittery? Linden nodded as the questions slid over him and tried not to let on how insane this all was.

“No, it sounds like Sooty’s doing just fine. In fact, better than fine. You need to hear yourself- worrying because he’s too well-behaved. Reward that! Then he’ll know to keep doing it. The last thing you want is someone anxious around your little girl because her dad’s never happy with him.”

“That’s smart, that. This is what happens when you let me talk- I go on and on until I’ve talked myself into a right tizz.”

“Honestly, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Sooty’s clearly no trouble.”

“Hear that?” Dom said, leaning over and patting Sooty’s head, the first time he’d acknowledged him all evening. “You’ve made a good impression.”

Sooty blinked and looked down, his face unmoving. He pushed his head up a little- just enough, apparently, since Dom gave his hair a ruffle before retracting his hand.

“Anyway,” he laughed, rolling his eyes. “I know I’ve not actually picked your brains. Felt great to get all that shit off my chest though. And hey, we’ve got so much in common. See you again soon, right? We can do something more fun than just sitting around yapping next time.”

-

Linden sat on the bus with much on his mind. He swept his hair to sit over his chest, to avoid it accidentally dusting the bus seat.

Sooty was so calm, so well-spoken and so unharmed that Linden had to remind himself that he had gone through hell to come out that way. He was only physically unharmed. Just because he wasn’t Colton didn’t mean he wasn’t vulnerable. It was hard to picture, but Sooty was probably still overthinking, trying to compensate, trying to please, in any way he could. Sooty chose his words carefully, while Col apologised. Both tactics tried to diminish any perceived insubordination.

His mind ran over the night’s events in no coherent order.

Sooty had seemed just a tiny bit peeved at the fact Dom thought Col was a nice pet. He would probably be in for quite a shock if he ever did meet Col in the flesh. Linden’s own household companion wasn’t any closer than Sooty was to being the loving family dog.

Were any pets perfect? Did they all strive for an ideal that didn’t exist? Was Sooty more put-together than Col, deep down, truly?

But Sooty had never been owned before. Was Col like that before he was taken in by his old owner? Had he been a relatively normal, well-adjusted pet? Linden might never know.

By the time he had completed the slow bus journey, stopping for a few essentials from the shop, and taken the long route home to get his steps in, it was far later than he realised. When he got home, he was initially alarmed to find no one in the hallway waiting for him. He had become so accustomed to opening the door and finding Col kneeling before him, head to the floor, mumbling out a greeting- after Linden had spoken first, of course.

He found him in the living room, lying in his usual spot on the floor, fast asleep. He had either tried to stay up for Linden’s return or, more likely, hadn’t been able to go to bed without permission.

Linden watched him sleep, as he sat on the sofa to pull off his loafers. Both of Col’s arms were bent in front of him, like he was praying. It was a peculiar pose. There was something deliberate about it, particularly in the way his wrists overlapped.

Ah. It wasn’t a shock to the system, just a melancholic understanding: they were chained together, weren’t they? My poor Colton. My poor Col. Do you sleep like that every night? Or is it just because tonight, you’re on the floor?

Linden lined his shoes up neatly on the shoe rack, hung his coat in its usual spot, and put his keys in the little dish. The final part of his downstairs ritual was suggesting that he and Col both retire to bed. He had never really noticed that they always went to bed at the same time. At least tonight would be no different.

Where did Sooty sleep? Linden hadn’t seen any oversized dog beds, or a cage. He highly doubted Sooty had his own room, so that left little Suzie’s bedroom, or perhaps the basement or attic. Some corner of the house where no one went anyway, so putting the human-shaped dog there wouldn’t be a problem.

He went to shake Col awake, his mind’s eye seeing the horrified look on his face before it materialised. Linden hoped that one day he’d instead see a look of exhausted indignation. Hey! You woke me up!

“I’m home,” Linden smiled. He was knelt with one knee to the floor, making sure not to lean over Col.

The look of horror appeared like clockwork, and as Col tried to shift onto his knees, he initially kept his wrists pressed together. He paused when he realised, looking down and pulling them apart. Linden wasn’t sure whether to acknowledge it or not.

“You’re here, remember? You’ve got a bed to sleep in. Much nicer than the floor, I think.”

“Yes, Sir,” Col breathed. “Of course, I-I wasn’t being ungrateful, I’m sorry, I’m- I’m so grateful for the bedroom. Welcome home, Sir. I’m s-so sorry I wasn’t there to greet you, I’m useless. I should never have fallen asleep.”

“Of course you get a bedroom, sweet. I came home later than I thought I would. I’m sorry about that. You stayed up.”

“It doesn’t matter about me, Sir,” Col said, doing a poor job of hiding his confusion. Linden probably sounded as ludicrous to Col as Dom had sounded earlier in the night. “You may do as you please. Y-Your pet should be better.”

“It’s alright,” Linden said. He knew if he said I don’t think that, Col would fall over himself apologising for talking back. “I’m tired. Let’s both go to bed, yeah?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you Sir. Thank you for your kindness.”

-

taglist part 1:

@newbornwhumperfly @whumpadump1939 @firewheeesky @whump-me-all-night-long @captain-seconds @grizzlie70 @unicornscotty @lave-whump @princessofonwardsworld @cupcakes-and-pain @bumbumbea @whumpfigure @yet-another-heathen @secretwhumplair @whumps-up @as-a-matter-of-whump @getyourwhumphere @itzagoodthing @whumpymirages @soapparentlyilikewhumpnow @the-monarch-whumperfly @penny-for-your-whump @briars7 @legallylibra @angel-stars @loyds-of-registry @tears-and-lilies @badluck990 @rosesareviolentlyread @vickytokio @neuro-whump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpsy-daisies @control-whump @theydy-cringeworthy @starnight-whump @cursedandtired @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @justabitofwhump @glamrockgregory @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @genesissane @justbreakonme @addyez @httyd-chocolate @littlespacecastle @haro-whumps @extrabitterbrain @neverthelass @downrivergirl914

[slowlyhardgoatee]

Wow. I didn’t think you’d actually come, Smith. 

I see you brought your son with you, as I told you to. Good. I want him to see and be a part of this. I want him to know what his father’s prepared to do to write off a debt.

That’s right, son, your dad’s into me for a couple hundred thousand. I told him there was a way to write the debt off. I think you probably know what the deal we made was - your dad might be into me for money, but you’re into me in a whole different way, ain’t’cha, boy? Yeah. Go ahead and stare at my crotch, boy, I can guarantee you’ll be getting well acquainted with it soon enough. 

Y’know, I always have a rule: don’t get kids involved. That’s why we’re doing this now. See, your dad’s been racking up debts to me for about a year now, taking out loan after loan and never repaying - finally, I got sick of it. I waited deliberately until last Friday. What happened last Friday, son? …That’s right, it was your eighteenth birthday. And I sent your deadbeat dad a little message.

Read him the message, Smith, out loud.

Oh, you won’t? Ok then, I will.

‘No kids. That was the agreement. Time’s up. You’ve got a week to come up with the money, or I’m gonna cum up something else. Your choice. Wish Tim a happy birthday. Looking forward to seeing you both soon. Saturday next week. 3PM. Bring the money, or bring Tim.’

Well, I’m looking around real good, Smith, and I ain’t seeing two hundred thousand. I am seeing your son, though. And I think I’m gonna be seeing a lot more of him, am I right?

Tim, get over here a minute. Listen, son, I’m about to give your dad a choice. When he makes it, I think I’ll be handing him a piece of paper and a pen.

Well, go ahead, Smith. You got the money? Or you wanna write your name on a sheet of paper for me?

Yeah. Just as I thought. Tim, hand your dad this piece of paper and then come back over here. Don’t look at it! Just hand it over. Good lad.

Sign on the dotted line whenever you’re ready, Smith. There we go. And hey, just like that, your debt is forgiven. There’s just a couple more things I need you to do.

Give Tim that paper back. Tim, read it out for me.

‘I hereby swear that I understand that Tim Smith is now Your property to use as You see fit, for as long as You want. I understand that in exchange for forgiving my debt, I am giving my son’s body to You with no time limit, and that he is to be viewed as nothing more than a pair of holes to be fucked. My signature below makes this contract binding.’

And then there’s the signature, etc. Good. Glad we all understand each other. Tim? You understand what you’ve just read out? Good. In that case, I want you to strip, right here, right now, and get on all fours. I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me lately, boy. I know you’ve been wanting this for a while.

Now it’s over to you, Smith. Last thing I need you to do to ensure your debt is paid. Ready? Here we go.

Beg me. Beg me to rape your only son’s faggot cunt bareback right in front of you and take his virginity. Beg me to use him as a fucking cum dump. Beg to watch me breed him while I call him every whore, slut and faggot under the sun. And finally, Smith, when I’ve done seeding his hole, you can beg to lick his cherry off my cock. And then you’ll never see each other again.

In your own time, Smith. Tim’s got a hungry hole just waiting to be fed. You just say the word. Oh - and make sure you call me Sir while you’re at it. I can’t wait to look you straight in the eye knowing you’ve begged me to breed your only son’s virgin cunt.

[superheroauthor]

Who Needs A Superpower?

CHAPTER ONE - Are You A Superhero?

   We all want to be a superhero, who wouldn't?

   We just don't need to be. After all criminals don't have superpowers.

   We just need to be heroes. To take back our streets and communities. To make our neighbourhoods safe again.

   Of course, a few superpowers would help us.

   And criminals, proper criminals, do carry guns.

   It is really lucky then that superpowers are exactly what I have, skills too and a bit of kit.

   You see I was a squaddie, that's in the British Army to you.

   I joined up and was soon representing them not for killing people but for athletics. Long distance was my forte, 10,000 metres or the marathon.

   For some reason this made me a good test subject for some of their research, the Super-Soldier Program. Being all too keen to better myself, and greedy for the huge hike in pay I would get, I accepted their offer.

   In this program I became stronger, a lot stronger and my eyesight improved until I had the sight of a hawk. And that was just the start.

   When I cut myself accidentally, I found I healed quicker, a lot quicker. Instead of a couple of days and scabbing a wound healed in a few hours. My endurance too was off the chart. I could run and run and only feel tired after several hours.

   Which was so good for me!

   I loved running . . . the harder, the longer and the faster the better.

   Which was strange, as when I was younger all the lads around me wanted girlfriends and of course lots of sex.

   For me it was running. I was not interested in girls or sex at all. Boys neither before you come up with that. I think I was what you call asexual, just not interested.

   Surely sex could not be better than running . . . that last sprint after 10 miles . . . your whole body crying out for you to stop and the exultation and glory as you just run faster. Surely sex could not be better than that.

   And yes, I am 23 and still a virgin.

    I went through the Super-Soldier Program. As it progressed some just vanished. They could not have been success stories and I was considered that. A few of the others tried to leave, saying the vanished ones were dead, but leaving was not an option. We were soldiers.

   Enough of that story though. It is enough to say the program did not work out. There was only one survivor, me!

   Even I was none too good. I was too aggressive, always wanting to fight, not caring with who.

   That was why I was quietly discharged, being the last man standing. Quietly kicked out, after first having signed a confidentiality agreement of course. A very lucrative agreement that the program had never existed and I had never been part of it.

   I returned to find my old neighbourhood in ruins. Drugs dealers and loan sharks, muggers and pimps had all taken over our estate. I hate pimps. Nothing against prostitutes of either sex but pimps are just scum.

   No-one was fighting back. A few good blokes had fought at the start but there were a few nasty bastards running the show. No big boss evident just nasty little men at the top of their nasty little professions.

   What, you want to know more about me?

   My name is Tony Ashton and I have lived on the Jack The Ripper Estate since I was born.

   I was always army barmy as the expression goes.

   Around here a job is something you do without the owner knowing. A warehouse break-in, an office or if you are ambitious robbing a post office.

   I though, did not want to go that way. My Dad had always been on the straight and narrow and I wanted the same.

   At five foot ten and tough and rugged the Army was a natural choice. Join the Army and Travel the World and all that. I was fit, strong, could run a marathon and had wanted to join the army since I was knee high to a grasshopper.

   Travelling to distant lands, keeping the peace and defending the weak. That was how I saw the Army.

   Yeah, you might have to go into battle but it was in a good cause, right?

   I loved being in the army. It was like one big family, well it was to me. And they loved me. Their blue eyed boy. Their athlete. Their special soldier.

   What do I look like? Exactly? Well as near as damn it I look like that bloke from Doctor Who? Which one? The Dalek? No, that David Tennant bloke.

   Oh, you thought I would be huge? No squaddies aren't like that, skinny as sticks most of them. And I, my friends, am a typical squaddie, or I was.

    Oh yes, I was a basic working-class squaddie alright. Well, I always considered myself that until I went to Newcastle, now I consider myself middle class.

   Keep my head down and get on was what I tried to do. I hoped to be a sergeant one day but that was not to be.

   Now though I had got busted out of the army and left in a hell-hole of a housing estate, the Ripper estate no less.

   I laid low for a couple of weeks at a house arranged for me on my discharge. I spent that time just walking around, getting the lay of the land again, finding out who was where, which crim was located in which position.

   People were soon used to seeing me back, usually just walking. Shuffling through the depressed streets, trying to ignore the dealers standing on the corners.

   It was time to get kitted out. You see, when I left the army, I took a few things with me. There was a whole mass of equipment for urban warfare, riots, looting, for when the people were fighting the police and the army. All in the stores of the Super-Soldier program.

   The best bit was a bullet proof tracksuit. A hoodie and tracksuit bottoms, all bullet proof. Would not stop a high velocity rifle bullet but would stop a revolver round no sweat, would block a knife.  And it looked casual, very casual, like everything everyone else was wearing on the estate.

   So casual the man who snatched Mrs Terrill's purse hardly seemed to notice me. Well until I put out an arm and clothes-lined him as he ran towards me. I let the bag drop as I dragged him down into a quiet car park. One slit of the knife deep into the guts and across and I walked away leaving him to bleed out.

   Hey, what sort of superhero do you think I am?

   One of those soft ones that never kills and always helps the police. Nah! That's just not me.

   I am a squaddie, an army boy, kill or be killed.

   That however was the first time I had killed. And the fear set in. Not guilt, after all it had only been a mugger, a purse stealer, scum of the Earth.

   It was fear of getting caught. Not fear of prison though . . .

   It was just I had so much more to do.

   Not much notice was shown over the death of the purse stealer. When I was down the local, sinking a pint, I overheard them all talking about it. He had been nicked for bag snatching many times, an addict of all that he could his hands on. Even the police did not care.

   I smiled.

   I let it be known in the pub that this estate now made me feel nervous. Even I, an ex-squaddie, did not like it here. And with that information I enquired about weapons, proper weapons, guns!

   I did have guns stolen from the armoury at the army base but not small guns. I only had rifles. An assault rifle and a sniper rifle.

   Two days later a man sidled up to me in the pub and told me he could get hold of guns, anything I liked. If we went back to his house, he had a sawn-off if that was any good to me. He said his name was Ginger Tom and he could get me all sorts, almost anything I wished.

   I told him I would meet up with him later and he smiled. He knew the score. Better not to seen together in case the law tumbled to us. He gave me the address and left.

   I resumed my drinking and even met with one of my old school-mates. We chatted for a bit before I left.

   It was a few seconds after I entered Ginger Tom's flat that he and his friend fell upon me. It was of course a trap to get my money.

   But hey I had expected nothing less of him!

   His friend had me in a hold and Tom told me to cough up my cash or die. He even showed me the shotgun I was due to buy. He thrust it in my belly as way of a persuader.

   Ginger Tom looked very perturbed when I just laughed. Even when he told me it was loaded and he would fire. I did not break down as he hoped. I just laughed some more.

   In a second I flipped the man behind me right over and into Tom knocking the shotgun wide. Not only was I martial art trained, to the level of a Super-Soldier, his grip was nothing to me. Now I was hugely strong.

   I now had his dubious assistant in my grasp, between Tom and me.

   "Drop the gun or I break his back." I told the arms dealer.

   Instead, he tried to get a line on me with the gun. Without much success for I had his mate in the way.

   I then grabbed the scruff of the neck of the second man with one hand and his groin with the other hand. Slowly I bought my hands together and you could hear as bones, his vertebrae, the bones in his back, snapped one by one. As I said, I had huge strength, such an act was little more than snapping balsa wood was for the normal man.

   The effect this sight had on Ginger Tom was amazing. He dropped the gun in terror and backed away. Quick as a flash I had him, kicking the sawn-off safely out of the way.

   "Now you and me are going to have a little chat." I told him. "You are going to tell me where I can get weapons around here. Pistols, shotguns, rifles, big guns. Grenades too and any military shit."

   "They will kill me." He said in a whisper and then I grabbed his arm tightly and started to squeeze.

   He let out a scream as the bone broke. Ginger Tom then started to talk. Such was his terror I think he wanted to talk. And once he started, he just could not stop. He did not tell me of just arms dealers, oh no, drug dealers too. A dealer of little guns like the ones he sold. A proper arms dealer who sold to the big drugs dealer of the area. The big drug dealer did not live around here. His minions just sold here for him but even they carried pistols or knives.

   This was not because they were scared of the populace, oh no. It was rival drug dealers who scared them, so they made sure they were always armed, just in case.

   He willingly showed me what guns he had, almost fawning over me, acting like a puppy willing to please his master. I told him he had done good and he could live.

   I asked for a brew and, as he turned, I snapped his neck. No choice, he had seen my face. No choice, he was dealing guns in what was once a nice neighbourhood.

   I had on my usual outfit, hoodie, joggings bottoms and of course leather gloves. I had put those on, the gloves, just as I walked up to the back door of Ginger Tom's.

   I took with me the sawn-off with all the cartridges Tom had shown me and a small pistol with 100 rounds of ammo. The rest I left around with the bodies of Ginger Tom and his friend for the police to find.

   Strangely enough there more than a little interest in the death of Ginger Tom. Even though he tried to trap me and rip me off he was well liked in the community as a man who could get you things, illegal and not.

   The police put it out as a falling out between two criminals. I knew though they weren't fooled, they just couldn't be bothered to look for the person who took the pair down. What with the budget cuts they could not investigate half the crimes that happened to good folk, let alone criminals.

   Over the next week, three muggers and four street dealers died. One street dealer died from shotgun wounds, one from a pistol bullet to the throat, one from a knife and the last of a severe beating.

   Word on the street was a rival gang of dealers was moving in. The muggers who got beaten to death, well that caused more speculation. That had people thinking a vigilante was coming to the neighbourhood who did not like muggers one little bit.

   Of course, I killed that other dealer of small arms too. Not the proper arms dealer but the one like Ginger Tom. He had a freak accident in which he flew off the top of a block of flats.

   This place was a hotbed of crime. Last thing it needed was more guns.

   No-one suspected me. I had put it out that I was suffering from post traumatic stress syndrome from fighting in a different country. Truth was I had spent all my time training to be a Super-Soldier. I had never served abroad at all.

   Everyone was sure I was scared of my own shadow, not the guy to be going out at night and tidying up the neighbourhood.

   The police actually starting searching the dealers and anyone strange to the neighbourhood for guns and knives. They too were sure a gang war was going to happen. This was unlikely. The badly beaten dealer had told me all I needed to know about the hierarchy of his gang.

   In just a couple of weeks there was a real police presence in the area making all around feel a lot safer.

   One dark evening, when a gang member picked up the proceeds of all his street dealers, he walked into one of the homes on the estate. He nodded at the tramp lazing around at the door as he went in.

   The tramp let out a scream as I took him from the side, the knife sliding into his gut and then around and around. The door flew open and three guys came barrelling out. The first took the shotgun blast full-on, the second got the butt of the gun and the last my foot to his throat.

   I dragged in the only survivor. The one I had hit with the butt of the gun. Guns blazed as I went in but only hit the body of the man I was holding in front of me. The light was behind me and they could not see me properly, just as I had hoped. Their bullets hit their friend, not me.

   They fell as the body was thrown at them and then I was on them. No guns needed, just violence, bone snapping violence.

   One survived but only just and I dragged him with me. There was just one more man in here if my information was right.

   There was and he shot me! Right in the gut!

   That pissed me off I can tell you. If I was not wearing bullet-proof clothing he could of killed me!

   I mean, how rude!

   The room was small and I was on him in a second. I didn't kill him, I just sparked him out and tied him up, his friend too.

   This was their counting house. This was where the money was held until the boss turned up to collect or sent someone to collect it for him.

   There were piles of money on the table. A safe too. I was tempted to try rip the safe door off with my bare hands until I worked out the counting house man probably had a key. A quick frisk of his pockets and I was opening the safe.

   I whistled. Stacks and stacks of bank notes.

   All went in my knapsack, the ones on the table too.

   These two would not recognise me. Not only was I wearing the hoodie but my face was painted green with black stripes. Enough to scare anyone and never for them to remember what I looked like.

   I had a quick chat with the money-counter man when he came around involving only a minimum of pain. I then left the two men still tied up and alive.

   The counter had been petrified. He had six guards including the tramp at the door and one man had seemingly just walked though them all, taking a bullet to the gut on the way.

   Of course, the bullet did not penetrate the cloth and as for the rest, well they were not army trained, they were not Super-Soldiers. They had not stood a chance.

   The next night a sniper took pot shots at the windows of another seemingly innocuous building on the estate. The police went around but were refused entry making them very suspicious. I left them to it when I noticed they left a policeman as sentry on the house.

   That was the stash-house, the place where all the drugs lived, ready to supply the lads on the corners. The nice counter of cash had told me so.

   I heard the next day the police had come back in force to try and gain entry to the property but they were refused entrance and there was a scuffle. That was all the police needed to raid the place with a warrant and the huge cache of drugs was found.

   Result!

   You see, heroin is not just a drug, it is a poison and it does not just poison individuals, it poisons communities. To get their daily fix junkies will do many desperate acts just to get through the day. Robbery of all types, violence and even murder if the price is right.

   Hopefully keeping heroin out of the area would make the junkies move out. But I was just at the start of that process.

   After that the street dealers vanished one by one and junkies got beatings, kickings that put them in the hospital.

   All too soon the junkies were crying out about the man with the green face that hurt them. Many did not believe them, thinking it was just one of their drug fuelled fantasies. The dealers however, and maybe the police, knew better.

   The street dealers were found after a couple of weeks, all dead, piled up in a deserted warehouse by the river on the edge of town. Laying beside them was a stuffed toy. A green dragon.

   This got whole neighbourhood was talking about what was happening. Dealers off the streets, junkies in hospital or moving to safer areas. And by the looks of it someone protecting them, the people of the estate, someone who got the nickname The Green Dragon.

   Little Timmy the rent boy was glad too. His pimp had been in the act of beating him up when someone sparked the pimp out and carried the pimp away. It was a long while before the pimp's weighted body was knocked by a barge in the river and came floating up.

   One by one pimps vanished. A policeman who hit a prostitute got taken as well. First knocked unconscious then waking up in a deserted building with a man dressed in a black tracksuit and with an odd green face. The copper only got the briefest glimpses of that man's face as the man walked around him, again and again.

   The policeman was told the working girls had their job to do as well. It was not nice for them but they had to earn their money. Best leave them be and to spread the word to the other officers . . . and never hit one just because she would not give you a freebie.

   The copper was just glad the vigilante let him live. He spread the word and the cops left the working girls alone, even the clients treated them better as they too did not want the green man popping up for a chat.

   This is not to say I did not get hurt occasionally. We all make mistakes. One dealer hit me with a cosh on the back of my neck. Another sliced my face with a knife. These minor injuries did not stop me doing my job however and healed all too quickly.

   Don't let anyone tell you that taking a live round and it being stopped by your bullet-proof hoodie don't hurt. It does. It bruises the area concerned and hurts like hell. But that is part of the job when you are a hero to your neighbourhood, even one that they will probably never realise has helped them.

   Of course, it was not all sunshine and rainbows. Sometime things definitely did not work out. Sometimes even I was at risk and it was all too easy to think I was indestructible.

   Look at the time when I cornered Big Trevor the fellow who used to do the re-ups for the dealers. The man who made sure there was always drugs for their gang to sell.           I saw him go into a shop, one that has not been open in donkey's years by the look of it.

   Shuffling along in my hoodie, trying to look inconspicuous, I follow him in. I had in mind having a little chat with this man. A chat involving me dangling him from a high roof until he gave me the address of his boss.

   To be honest, it did not work out quite that way. Big Trevor went through a door and I followed him.

   What do I find?

   A large room full of people with guns all looking as if they were wolves and I was a fresh spring lamb. Others were coming behind me, I could feel their presence without looking around. There was even one in the far corner with an assault rifle.

   Let me tell you, the room may have been a big one but with so many people it was not wise to loose an automatic rifle in here unless you had some serious skills with that gun. Put that into full auto with a newbie holding it and it could pull to one side and take out half the people in the room.

   This one is going to get hairy was my thoughts. Pistols and knives, well I could deal with them but an automatic rifle, probably in the hands of an amateur, well that sounded dangerous to me.

   I gauged the situation in a second and . . . jumped!

   Just like the rest of me, my legs are strong. I could do a standing jump up to fifteen or twenty feet, higher with a run up.

   I did not do a little leap, I jumped right over their heads. The only thing I had to worry about was not hitting the ceiling. Right across the room I went, not away from them but over them and into the corner. As I went, I dropped a present from the belt under my hoodie.

   It was a flash-bang.

   I doubt you have come into contact with flash-bangs but you might have seen them on the telly. When they go off they let out a blast of light that is blinding, temporarily so, and a bang that sounds like a hundred fireworks in one go.

   They are for shock value. I can tell you, if you are not expecting them, they scare the shit out of you.

   I had my eyes tight shut as I landed on the man with the automatic rifle but still it seemed the light burned through and then there was an almighty boom. The bloke under me was stunned and I grabbed up the rifle and fired it high.

   Suddenly they were all firing, sure I was attacking them. I kept my head down I can tell you. My eyes were open now and when the firing slowed I looked up. Half the people were dead and the rest looked stunned. They had overreacted and in a big way.

   One caught sight of me and put a bullet in my chest, which made me grunt.

   I returned the compliment by making sure the rifle was on full auto and standing and firing in an arc, slowly mowing down the people in the room.

   Too many people in a confined space and it was easy. Of course, they did not like this and some, before they fell, did fire at me but the bullets just bounced off. This only added to their consternation before they went down.

   I would be bruised all over, there could be no doubt of that but I would live, unlike them.

   Of course, the rifle did not take them all down. All too soon it was out of bullets and I had to use my own pistol, headshots all the way.

   I slipped a couple of pistols in my pockets and some spare clips and then had a think. Someone had set a trap, a big trap involving lots of people, a well thought out trap. Now if I was really lucky . . . no they could not be that silly, could they?

   Only one way to find out.

   At the rear of the building was a fire door. I disconnected it from the fire alarm and kicked it down. The whole door fell out of its hinges the kick was so strong. I then jumped up to the top of the building and slid along its roof.

   I was right. There was a car waiting out front, an expensive car. It had to be, the boss's car.

   Slipping off the side of the building I came up behind the car . . . and lifted the rear end until it was vertical. I shook it a bit, hearing them cry out inside of the car. At least one of them seemed to recover however, at a least a bit, as bullets started to fly through the car and towards me.

   It made me jump I can tell you. I had not been expecting that. I dropped the car I was so startled.

   It was as well I did, a stray shot must have hit something in the engine as petrol was streaming out onto the road around the car. I backed right off, bullets are no problem but petrol and flames, well they could hurt!

   No flames yet, just petrol and a monstrously large man getting out of the car with a shotgun in his hands. He was grinning. I think this one was actually enjoying how it was playing out.

   "Shoot him in the head Ron, he might be wearing a bullet proof vest under that." This was from a suit getting out of the passenger side of the car.

   Expensive suit he was wearing too, chunky gold ring on his finger and a gold medallion to boot. Yes, this was the boss.

   Ron got two shots in the head from the pistol I had picked up in the shop. Just like I had been taught. Tap, tap!

   I turned to the boss and aimed at his left knee and fired.

   Click!

   Dead-man's click, out of ammo.

   The boss thought so too, that without that gun I was a dead man. He had a massive smile on his face. A massive smile and a large automatic pistol, a big silver shiny one.

   Come at me, closer, closer than that, I was thinking. I needed him within about ten foot. And come at me he did but stopped at fifteen feet away, still with that idiotic smile on his face. He knew he had won. He knew he was the victor here.

   I had to try it but it would be risky, bloody risky if he went for a head shot.

   I had other pistols but even though I was lightning fast he could still have me in the time it took me to draw one from a pocket.

   It would have to be the 'Shadow' move. Easy enough if you are pumped up and less than ten feet from your assailant but this was not the case. This muppet was fifteen feet away and it would be risky.

   My adrenaline was high though, I was almost swooning with the blood pumping so fast through my body.

   I tried it and was behind him as he shot the pistol in front of him.

   The 'Shadow' move is moving so fast you are like a blur, part leap, part run and only a move a high adrenaline Super-Soldier could make. The amazing speed given by the superpower was what made it even remotely possible.

   That boss had been shooting at my blur. I hit him on the back of the neck with my pistol butt. I put him in his car and walked back away. A single shot ignited the petrol and his car seemed to lift into the air with the blast as it hit the petrol tank.

   I quickly went back to the shop, left a fluffy green dragon on the floor and left the area.