#[sly voice] Slow Down Some Of Us Are Old And Have Shorter Legs Than You

[double-hoe-seven]

Conjugal Visit

Summary: Its time to visit your husband at good old Belle Reve Pairing: Robert DuBois/Bloodsport x Reader Word Count: 1,830 Warning(s): Smut, prison sex(?), allusion to violence and murder. 18+ MINORS DNI (DO NOT INTERACT)

"DuBois, you have a visitor!" One of the guards shouted while he scrubbed the floor. "I'm not in the mood to fight with my daughter and I under no circumstances want to see Waller," he growled. "Well then you're in luck, it's the only other person in your life from the outside," the guard said bored. "What? I'm not ready for a visitor." "Too bad. Let's go." The guard was getting impatient. Reluctantly, Robert got up and followed the man; at least he'd showered that morning. He followed them to one of the private visitation rooms; there you sat, wearing black boots, jeans, and t-shirt, and a midnight blue leather jacket with the black rings on your left hand. "You're a sight for sore eyes, love," he smiled as the guards uncuffed him and repeated their usual warnings before leaving the room, locking the door behind them.

"If I'd known you were coming I might have shaved," he commented as he approached you, pulling you into his embrace with he was close enough. "I don't know, babe, I quite like the beard. It makes you look distinguished," you said with a hum as you wrapped your arms around his neck loosely. "That's just a polite way of sayin' it makes me look old, innit?" He asked with a stifled chuckle. "Older and handsome, love," you corrected. "Did you come here to just take the piss at me or do you have a better reason?" He teased before leaning down and capturing your lips in a hungry, impassioned kiss. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush against him.

A deep groan left him when you gently bit and tugged his bottom lip, smirking up at him. "Needy little thing, ain't ya, love?" He hummed as he tossed your jacket aside, hastily doing the same with your shirt before scooping you up and laying you on the cheap bed in the room. His lips dropped from yours to your neck, leaving a trail of light bite marks in the wake as he trailed his lips down to your chest. "I don't know why you bother wearing bras when you visit me, love, they only get in my way," he chuckled as he unclasped the black lace of your bra, discarding it with a grin. "Because I'd rather not be led through a prison with-" your words were quickly cut off by a surprised moan when he leaned down and took one of your nipples into his mouth. His tongue circled the bud as he suckled gently, rolling the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Robert alternated between the hardened peaks until you were a moaning, squirming mess beneath him. Your hips rocked against his needily as a whine escaped you "Robert..." "Use your words, love," he teased with a wicked grin. He chuckled to himself when you only shot him a glare. He unzipped your jeans and pulled them and your underwear down teasingly slowly; he pulled you to the edge of the bed and kneeled down throwing your legs over his shoulders. "I think this might be one of the things I miss most while I'm here, being able to just go down on you whenever the fuck I want," he said in a soft mutter as he ran his thumb along your wet slit. "Trust me, hon, you aren't the only one who misses it," you mumbled. Your back arched with the first swipe of his tongue. Two of his fingers teased your entrance before slowly pushing in as his tongue circled your clit slowly. What started out as slow drags of his fingers and tongue turned into him fucking you with his tongue and fingers, stretching you to prepare for him. He didn't stop until he felt your walls tensing around his digits, when he did he quickly pulled his fingers out and licked them clean, a small pleased groan leaving him as he watched you pant softly, a needy hunger in your eyes. He always did love bringing you right to the edge.

He quickly shed himself of his orange prisoner's uniform, taking his member into his hand as he climbed in bed over you. "I'll be outta here soon enough, love, then I'll take you somewhere proper and romantic," he promised before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, followed by a slow sensual kiss to your lips as he slowly pushed his length into you. His hand stroked your cheek when he felt you tense up, your tight warmth stretching to its limits to accommodate him "that's a good pet, takin' my cock so well." You wrapped your legs around his waist tightly while your nails dug into his shoulders.

Each slow drag and push of his hips pulled gentle moans from you. His pace quickly built up and he tightened your legs around him. "Is that the best you can give me, love?" You teased when he settled into a series of long, deep, slow thrusts. "Aw, does my needy little princess want it rough?" He almost cooed in false sympathy while slowing his hips. When you started trying to move your hips against him for any more friction than what he was giving, a small whine escaped you when his hand moved to hold your hips down "use your words, pet. Tell daddy exactly what you want or I'll just keep going slowly until I'm ready to finish." "Want you to fuck me until I leave here with a limp," you managed to say after a minute of trying to steel yourself.

The squeak that left your lips when he suddenly pulled out turned into a loud moan when he slammed back into you, setting a new brutal pace. You angled your hips up some so each thrust brought the head of his member harshly against your g-spot. "Fuck, Robert!" You moaned out louder when his thumb started rubbing fast tight circles on your clit. "That's it, little bird, sing for daddy so this entire fucking shithole can hear," he husked before nibbling and tugging on your ear lobe. "Say my name, Pet. Tell everyone who's you are," he growled, pinching your clit when your only answer was a moan that escaped your slightly parted lips. "Yours, Robert! All yours!" You moaned out, eagerly trying to match his thrusts but finding it harder to keep up with his roughness and brute force.

Soon, Robert sat back on his knees and pulled your hips flush against his with each more forceful thrust managing to hit even deeper places, places that were quickly bringing you closer to the edge. "Fuck, your warm walls are squeezing me so tightly. Play with your clit for me, yeah? I want to see all of you come undone but don't you dare cum until I say," he muttered lazily. He sat up fully and spread your legs a little further apart, transfixed on the sight of his length disappearing into you and coming out with your sweet nectar. You nodded and bit your lip as you traced shapes over your little button. "Good girl," he mumbled, his thrusts getting shorter but quicker, more of a rapid rutting. He smirked when he saw how hard you were trying to hold off "alright, Pet, you can let go." He might've whispered the words but they were clear to you.

As you came, you moaned out a series of curses and his name, your entire being quaking. Groaning as your walls tightened even more, he fell forward over you as he joined you in climax. His body covered yours while his forearms kept his weight off of you, his hips slowly rutting into you as you both came down. He planted a series of soft, languid kisses up your neck and along your jawline before finally kissing you softly, one of his hands coming up to gently brush some loose strands out of your face. Robert carefully maneuvered your bodies so he was laying on his back with you on his chest, his arms around your waist while his index finger absentmindedly traced shapes along your spine. You both laid there in comfortable silence, your rapid breaths slowing down were the only sounds in the room.

"Do you really think you'll be out of here soon, love?" You asked him hopefully, looking up at him with a small frown. "I do, darling. It won't be long before Waller comes with another suicide mission for me to lead," he grumbled before pecking your lips softly "I'll be home with you before you know it though, yeah?" "You promise? I miss waking up to your face between my legs," you joked. "Believe me, love, I miss that too. You always have been my favorite breakfast, or meal in general," a sly smirk crossed his face and he chuckled when you slapped his chest. "You're awful," you joked. "Baby, I'm an assassin, I'm not exactly a role model for anyone. I mean, for fucks sake, I almost killed Superman and if given the job again I'd take it," he said casually. "I know you would baby, maybe this time you'll succeed," you teased with a grin. "Watch it love or I'll have to bend you over my knee," he warned, squeezing your ass with a wicked smirk. "Oh no, please don't sp-" you started saying sarcastically before his hand quickly came down with a loud smack. "Wanna try that attitude again, princess?" He cocked his brow while he waited for your answer, giving you a quick kiss when you didn't say anything else.

Before either of you could react, the buzzer of the door unlocking and opening sounded and a woman walked in. "DuBois, Mrs. DuBois," she greeted flatly, unfazed by your nudity as you tried to cover your bodies with the sheet. "Fuck are you doing here, Waller?" Robert growled. "You have a new mission. And this time your wife's coming along. Isn't that right, Tracker?" She said. "Excuse me?" You and Robert said simultaneously. "That's right. We know about your side gig hunting down people the law let off. If either of you refuses to come on the mission or tries to abandon it, I'll hand over our evidence to the proper authorities. You, my dear, with not only be put in jail but you'll lose your license to practice law. Even if you managed to get it reinstated, nobody will hire a lawyer who knowingly married an assassin, the same one who put Superman in the ICU," Waller explained calmly. "You're threatening my fucking wife?!" Robert shouted as he sprung out of bed and pulled his boxers on. "I'm doing it for the safety of our country and the world," her voice was so eerily calm. "Robert, calm down. If it gets you home sooner, I'll do it," you told him as you sat up, using the bedsheet to cover your modesty. He looked at you like you'd just grown another head, in complete disbelief.

Tag Team: @bdffkierenwalker​

[hoekageyama]

cmfrt

yaku morisuke x reader

warnings: nsfw, smut, uhhhh grey sweatpants (ik im sorry ew)

wc: ~3k

a/n: hi hi! this is my first piece, so pls go easy on me ._. this started off as something fluffy bc my desire for yaku content is thru the roof (as it should be), but ofc i got off the rails and went the soft smut route lmao oops. anyway, i hope u enjoy! 

~ also! please don’t consume this content if you are not of age, thnx <3 ~

You and Yaku had been best friends for years. Having gone to the same middle school and practically being next door neighbors. Needless to say, you spent a lot of time together; you two were pretty much attached at the hip. So when Yaku told you that he’d also be going to Nekoma for high school, you were pretty excited but not really surprised. 

Throughout high school, the two of you spent as much time together as possible, proving to be difficult at times with every ounce of Yaku’s free time being devoured by volleyball and the endless amounts of studying that was required for prepping for uni. All that aside, the two of you always found time for each other. Whether it be little lunch dates on the weekends, small study sessions in the library, or even facetime hangouts when you were both exhausted and too lazy to actually meet up face to face.

It felt like any other Friday when you and Yaku met up in the early morning to walk to school together. “Y/n, did you finish that history report yet? I’m almost done, but I need someone to review it so I don’t look like an idiot when I present on it.” Yaku ran a hand through his light brown hair and looked over to your slightly shorter form.

You turn to Yaku, noticing how his cheeks were slightly flushed due to the cold wind blowing directly in your faces. “Just about. I just need to finish my conclusion, but it shouldn’t take me too long to power through it. Also, yeah, I can take a look at it. No worries.” You turn away after answering the boy, and continue on your walk, thinking that was the end of that conversation. You can feel his gaze on you suddenly, leaving your cheeks to tint to that familiar shade of red. “Thanks. Also… are you free tonight?” he asks with slight notes of hesitation in his voice. You glance at him through the side of your eye noticing his fidgeting hands. “Yea, I’m free. What’s up?”

Without looking at you or answering, he slows his pace until he’s stopped. Standing and gazing out at the trees that lined the roads, watching as the Maple leaves are shed from their branches, showing the first true signs of winter. You stop alongside him and nudge him slightly with your elbow, “Why’d you ask so suddenly, Mori? Something up?”

He jumps slightly being pulled from his thoughts. He glances over at you, “Oh, uh, no reason really. I was just wondering if you’d wanna come over tonight to study and hangout. We can chill and watch movies like the old times. I have the house to myself and all so…” When you see his raised eyebrow and sly smirk grace his features, you feel your face heat up slightly.

You turn to him giggling, “Oooooh, Mori! I didn’t know you could be such a flirt!” He wraps an arm around your shoulders and forces you to start walking again. “If that’s what you call flirting, then the guys you talk to must be braindead.” He pulls you a little closer into his chest, laughing along with you now. You nuzzle your head into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, “Of course I’ll come. As long as you treat me to some takeout tonight.” He nods and smiles, looking at your slightly smaller form clinging to his for warmth. “Deal. We can stop by the store on our walk home, and I’ll get you whatever ya want.” You only nod in agreement, leaving the two of you to walk the rest of the way in a comfortable silence.

As the day moved on, you found yourself getting a bit anxious for your hangout with your best friend. It’s not like you haven’t slept over at his house before. In fact, you and Yaku practically slept at each other’s houses every weekend for as long as you can remember. But what was so different now? Oh yeah, that’s right. It’s because now you were painfully aware of your burning crush on the mighty libero. 

The final bell signaling the day’s end rings as you make your way through the double doors of Nekoma. Making your way towards the gym, you see Kuroo and Kai standing by the entrance chatting. “Yo Tets! Kai! You guys seen Mori anywhere?” The two both wave in greeting as you move closer to the duo. “Yea, I think he’s getting changed right now. Should be out in a bit.” Kai states. “You two still aren’t dating yet? You guys act like you're married already.” says Kuroo, rustling your hair. “Oh shut uuuuup already.” you hear Yaku groan from inside the gym. “You’re so worried about our relationship when you can barely hold a conversation with a girl without looking like a nerd.” Yaku scoffs, punching Kuroo’s arm. 

The four of you eventually split off into your own groups, making your way home for the weekend. The walk home doesn’t take very long. It’s filled with Yaku telling you about Kuroo’s horrible chemistry pickup lines and complaining about the test you both had coming up. Midway through, you both stopped at the store, picking out ample snacks for your movie night and some dinner for later.

Upon finally trudging through the icy winds, you arrive at Yaku’s house. He unlocks the door, but steps aside to let you in first. “What a gentleman!” you say jokingly as he laughs from your reaction. You slide your shoes off at the door and make a beeline straight for Yaku’s bedroom, plastic bag filled with goodies in hand. Yaku lets out a happy sigh and soon follows suit. 

Once in Yaku’s room, you lie face down on his bed groaning. “What’s wrong now, princess?” he asks as he closes the door. Plopping down on the bed next to you with two juice pouches already in hand he nudges you gently to sit up. “I completely forgot to stop by my house to pick up clothes for tonight. All I have in my bag are gym clothes.” you sigh in exasperation as you take the pouch from his cold hands.

“Oh stop. You know you can always just use some of my clothes.” he shrugs while taking a sip of his juice. “I mean.. You’ve done it before. It’s not that big of a deal. I- if you’re ok with it, that is.” he says looking over to you, waiting for your response. You nod in response moving to lie in his lap.

If you didn’t know Yaku well enough, you wouldn’t have noticed the way he tenses slightly, ears the tiniest bit redder than they were moments ago braving the cold of the outside world. “Well then, get me something comfy because I need to get out of this skirt asap!” you say brushing down the edges of your skirt, putting them into place. “I’ll say..” he mumbles. You barely heard it, but it makes your cheeks grow a little red.

After you both finish your drink, you see him disappear into his closet only to emerge moments later with two sets of clothes in hand. He tosses a black t-shirt and a pair of red shorts to you on the bed. Both of which, landing right on top of your face. “I’ll go shower up first since I don’t take ages like some people.” he says with a smirk as he reaches the door.

You giggle hearing his mocking tone “Ok that was one time! And to be fair, it was all your fault. My hair smelled like Yakuult for days after!” He blushes slightly remembering the incident, but chooses to only shake his head laughing to himself as he continues his pursuit for the bathroom.

You lie in his bed scrolling through some app on your phone when you hear the door open. Yaku returns, toweling off his lightly dampened hair, clad in just a pair of grey sweatpants that seem to barely hand onto his waist. You feel your thighs press together tightly as he throws a hoodie on, turning to see your flustered state. “What? Am I too hot for ya?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows. “Oh shut up!” you groan, rushing passed him and right out the door. You quickly hop into the shower once in the bathroom to cool off your burning cheeks, praying that you can keep it together for the rest of the night. 

Soon enough, you’re all dry, dressed, and heading for Yaku’s room. As you close the door, you see Yaku sitting at his desk running his fingers through his hair. Yaku had been working on his history paper while you were in the shower, and it seems he isn’t making much progress. You grab your back and move to sit by him, brushing against his leg with your own on the way down. He feels a shiver rush down his spine at the sudden delicate touch. “You ok, Mor?” you ask when you see him nodding profusely in response. “Yeah just can’t get this paper done. It’s like my mind is racing, but I can’t focus.” You rub his back and lean over to view his paper in front of him. The way you’re positioned isn’t helping Yaku’s brain one bit. 

Yaku places a hand on your lower back, ogling at the way your back arches naturally reacting to his touch. He smooths out the back of your shirt, admiring the swell of your ass. He flushes a bit, feeling a dull throb and a tightness beginning to form in his sweatpants, when he notices how short you made the shorts after rolling the waistband up a few times to ensure they’d fit. 

You subconsciously rub your thighs together a little while reading through his history report. You hoped that Yaku wouldn’t notice, but unlucky for you he did. He continued rubbing your back, slightly lowering his hand little by little until you felt his rough hand caress your ass. You turned around to look at him, but were met with eyes glazed over in lust. “Hey Mor, you ok?” you ask confused. “I’m fine, baby. Sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.” he says as he drops his hand into his lap in an attempt to conceal the bulge that began growing in his sweats. You shake your head giggling, moving back to your original position next to him. “Nah it’s all good, babe. Just…” you lose all train of thought you possibly had when you glance down and notice the outline of something in his sweatpants. “Hey, y/n, listen. I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean for this to happen, I promise. I- I just think you look really good in my clothes…. Sorry.” he quickly spits out. 

He began shuffling to get up from you when you reach out and clamp a hand around his wrist. “Why are you apologizing, babe? I should probably be the one apologizing. Especially when you’ve made me like this.” you say bashfully, leading his hand to the wet spot that was now visible in the red shorts you wore. He groaned upon feeling the dampness. “What’s all this, princess? Why so wet already?” he coos into your ear, continuing to rub his rough hands against your clothed core. 

After building up the courage to get this far, you threw all caution to the wind. “You, Mori. Fuck! I want you to touch me, please.” you let out a little moan as you palmed him through his sweats. You could tell just how hard he was through his pants. “Fuck, baby, I’ll do whatever you want. Just please let me fuck you.” he groans when you press a little harder onto his hardened cock.

Everything that happened next was a blur. Lips smashed together, tongues dancing, teeth clashing every now and then. You finally part lips, gasping for air as he tugs his hoodie off over his head. You follow suit, removing your shirt and shorts, leaving you standing nearly bare in between his legs as he lounged in his desk chair. 

His eyes never leave yours as he unhooks your bra, allowing it to fall to the floor with a thud. His hands smooth over your breasts, rolling and pinching a nipple in between the rough pads of his fingers. He places open mouthed kisses from your jawline down to the swell of your breasts. Leaning back to take in the view once more he groans, saying, “You’re so beautiful, baby. I can’t believe you’ve been hiding these from me all this time.” you only moan as he moves in to nip at one of your pert nipples. Your hands immediately reach for his light brown locks and begin to tug in response to the stimulation. 

His hands move to your lower body pulling off your lace underwear until they drop to the floor. You kick them aside before he grips your hips tightly. “Mo- Mori please, let me ride your cock.” you say through moans as he lightly trails a finger through your soaked folds. He removes his mouth from your chest with a lewd popping sound. He stands up to pull his sweats lower and sits back down in his seat. You take a moment to ogle at the sight before you. His cock, painfully hard, dripping precum from the swollen head. You grab his shoulders and move in to kiss him as his grip returns to your hips. 

He hoists you up onto his lap, making you straddle the length in his lap. When your wet core makes contact with the length below you, you let out a lewd moan and grind in his lap. He hisses at the contact and tightens his grip on you to stop you from moving. “Patience, princess.” he groans out as you finally stop your ministrations. He lifts you slightly, aligning himself with your hole before looking up to you for approval. You simply nod your head and lower yourself onto his cock little by little. It isn’t too above average in length, but damn did he make up for it in girth. 

You both hiss at the feeling of him being sheathed completely inside your tight cunt, neither of you moving to allow for you both to regain some composure. “Fuck baby, you’re so tight!” he groans, “Just let me know when you want to start moving.” You only nod your head, savoring the delicious stretch in your core. 

As soon as you regain your bearings, you look up to him with glazed eyes, “Mori, mo- move please.” He attaches your mouth to his and gently lifts you, gripping your ass tightly. Before long, he let you take control. The pace you set is slow at first while you kiss him tenderly, running a hand through his hair, tugging gently every so often. His cock hits a particularly sensitive spot inside you, causing you to erupt in another lewd moan of his name. You feel him twitch inside you, he speeds up the pace a bit bringing your ass down harder each time he lifts you. 

Before long you feel that familiar heat in your core building inside you. “Ah fuck, I’m c- close” you moan out as he snaps his hips up to meet yours. The sound of his balls slapping your ass is nearly enough to set you off, but when he reaches a hand down to place sloppy circles around your clit. The coil of heat building up finally snaps, and you’re thrown head first into the bliss of ecstasy.

Yaku groans feeling you tighten around his length. He continues fucking you through your high, and his pace begins to get sloppy before he pulls out frantically. Before he can ask you, you get on your knees in front of him and take him into your mouth. He hisses at the feeling of your tongue gliding over his swollen head and throws his head back in pleasure. With one hand in your hair, he pulls you lower onto his cock as he bursts ribbons of heat down the back of your throat. 

After removing himself from your mouth and tucking himself back into his sweats, he pulls you back into his lap. He places a gentle kiss on your lips, holding you tightly in his arms. “Mori, I’m cooooooold.” you whine into his shoulder. “Let’s get you cleaned up and ready for bed, huh?”

He moves you onto his bed and quickly disappears to the bathroom. You see him return with a damp washcloth and a cup of water in hand. You let him clean you off as you look around the room for your clothes. “I’ll get you some new clothes ok? Just relax and drink your water while I put these washing.” he says, motioning to the pile of clothes on the floor. He hands you some garments and you quickly get dressed as he moves about the house.

He later returns, only to see you waiting for him with the takeout you had gotten earlier. He plops down beside on the bed for the second time tonight and pulls you into a hasty kiss. “You’re mine, right? I love you so much. I’ve dreamt of this for years. Please stay with me.” he says as he looks deep into your e/c eyes, while cupping your cheeks with his hands. “How can I say no?” you giggle, smashing your lips into his once more before chowing down on your takeout meals. The rest of the night is spent with the two of you cuddled up watching terrible rom-coms. The history report, long forgotten. That can wait for tomorrow.

- again, i’m so sorry at how trashy this is written lmaodfadfj 

- if u did read it tho, tysm! ily & maybe send me some suggestions on what to write next. i’m down for whatever rlly. i’m trying to write more often so this is kinda just a warm up for now.

[prepare4trouble]

Idk if you ship Heahmund/Ivar but if you do, wanna write something with Hvitserk dealing with the fact that his brother is falling hard for a christian menace?

I don't ship them, but I thought I'd give this a go anyway. Unfortunately, it didn't go according to plan, and I ended up writing and re-writing it for over a week until I ended up with one single scene that... isn’t exactly what I intended to write. Still, I have to post it or I'll keep chipping away at it forever

Sorry if it's not what you were hoping for...

(Prompts are still open, by the way)

Seated on a bench in the hall of King Harold’s home, Hvitserk watched out of the corner of his eye as Ivar made his way slowly across the room. His brother leaned more heavily than usual on his crutch, his steps shorter and slower than they had been earlier in the day, and it was clear that he had spent too long on his feet.

Hvitserk knew why. He had been visiting the prisoner again, the Saxon priest that they had, for reasons known only to Ivar, brought back with them from England.

Ivar reached the table and carefully lowered himself onto the bench next to Hvitserk, but leaving some distance between them. He sat with his back to the table, then turned to meet Hvitserk’s eyes as though daring him to say something. Hvitserk declined the offer, and turned his attention instead to the cup of ale that sat on the table in front of him.

Hvitserk didn’t trust the prisoner. The priest had betrayed him once before, when he had left he and Ubbe bruised and bloodied before sending them back to Ivar as a message that there would be no peace between their peoples. It was a move that had precipitated the rift in their family, and even if he chose to believe that it had been fate, Hvitserk couldn’t help but hold the priest responsible.

Holding onto the table for leverage, Ivar leaned forward, grabbed one leg with his free hand, and hoisted it up onto the bench with his foot pointing toward Hvitserk. He began to unfasten the buckles on the leather straps that held the brace in place. “Problem, Hvitserk?” he asked.

“Uh…” Hvitserk picked up his cup of ale and downed it in a single gulp. “What?”

“You looked as though you had something to say,” Ivar told him. His voice was calm and measured. He looked Hvitserk in the eye as practised fingers continued to work on the straps. “Why don’t you just say it instead of grinding your teeth and glaring at me?”

Hvitserk tapped the back of a fingernail on the side of his empty cup, and considered the request. “Okay,” he said. “I will. He’s dangerous, and you shouldn’t trust him.”

Ivar’s fingers stilled on the final buckle of his brace, and his brows knotted into an exaggerated parody of a frown. A hint of an amused smile played on his lips. “Who are you talking about?”

Hvitserk scowled, not in the mood to play games. “You know exactly who I’m talking about.”

“No…” Ivar shook his head thoughtfully as his frown deepened. “No, I do not believe that I do. After all, I know a great many dangerous people.” He paused, then smiled somewhat pointedly. “I am a dangerous person myself.”

“I was talking about the Christian, Ivar.” Hvitserk told him. “As you well know.”

Ivar gave him a dismissive shake of the head and turned his attention back to his leg. He unfastened the final strap, then winced noticeably as he removed the brace. He placed it on the floor next to the bench, near to where he had rested his crutch, for some slave to collect and return to his room later.

“Heahmund?” he asked.

Hvitserk scowled at the sound of the man’s name. “Are there any other Christians around here?”

“How would I know?” Ivar asked with a dismissive shrug. “Probably not, but we are in a new place. King Harold’s kingdom could be rife with Christians for all I know. Anyway, Heahmund is a sly one. He tried to convert me to his faith. Perhaps he has succeeded with somebody more weak minded than myself.”

“He…” Hvitserk found himself smiling at the idea of the Christian attempting to convert Ivar of all people. “Really?”

“Really. It did not exactly go as he had hoped.”

No, he imagined not. Hvitserk shook his head. “But that’s exactly what I mean. He’s dangerous, and not just because he will try to poison our minds against the gods. He would kill you without a moment’s thought if he believed that his god wanted it.”

“I know,” Ivar told him, apparently unconcerned by the idea.

“But still you carry on visiting him like he’s an old friend, talking to him for hours at a time. It’s almost as though you are infatuated with him. Almost like you’re...” he stopped as a realisation hit him.

“Almost like I…?” Ivar said, waving a hand in the air as he prompted him to continue.

Suddenly Hvitserk understood. He knew what was happening between his brother and the Christian. He shook his head, as though he could shake loose the thought, but it was stuck fast. Ivar really was infatuated by the Christian. Perhaps he even loved him.

“Hvitserk?” Ivar said. He waved a hand before his eyes mockingly.

Hvitserk blinked. He couldn’t say that, not with everything that it might imply. Not yet, not when he had no idea how his brother might react.

“You… like him,” Hvitserk said instead.

Ivar chuckled quietly under his breath, then turned his attention back to his legs. He moved his other leg onto the bench and began the slow task of removing the slightly more complicated brace. As he did, he shook his head. “You’re crazy.”

“Am I? Why else would you have brought him here? And why else would you spend so much time talking with him?”

“I brought you back, didn’t I? Ivar said. He winced in pain again as he released one part of the brace and got to work on the next. “He’s a great warrior, he has insight I can use. I find him interesting, that is all.”

“He’s a Christian priest.”

Ivar shook his head. “A bishop, actually.”

Hvitserk frowned. “And what is the difference?”

“I don’t know, but perhaps I could ask him for you, and then we will know. And that is why he is useful; it is important to know as much as we can about our enemies, wouldn’t you agree, brother?”

Hvitserk rubbed a hand wearily across his face and reached for a jug of ale. “He would happily kill you, given half a chance.”

“I know he would,” Ivar told him, “and that is one of the interesting things about him. But don’t worry, brother. He’ll never get that chance, and even if he did, he wouldn’t take it.”

That was not a promise that Ivar could make. Hvitserk frowned, unconvinced.

“It is true,” Ivar assured him. “I haven’t simply been talking to him, I have been slowly winning him over, convincing him that I’m not the monster he thought I was. I think he’s starting to like me, too. Anyway, he knows that I am the only person keeping him alive. If he did manage to kill me, you would have him put to death immediately, and he doesn’t want to die. If he were so eager to join his god, he would have tried to do so already.

There was an undeniable logic to Ivar’s argument, as usual. Hvitserk forced down a stab of irritation. “One of these days, Ivar, you’re going to make an assumption like that and be wrong.”

Ivar shrugged. “Maybe. But not today.”

“You should still be careful. Take somebody in with you when you see him.”

“Having an armed bodyguard present is no way to build trust. I am hoping that he will fight for us, remember? Do you think he would do that if he thought I was afraid of him?

“You told him you would crucify him if he didn’t. Don’t you think that is incentive enough to fight for us?”

“Perhaps,” Ivar shrugged, “But I would prefer it if he wanted to do it. That way he is less likely to betray me to my enemies. Besides,” he reached to his belt and removed a short but dangerous looking knife, I am not so stupid as to go in there unarmed. After all, as you say, he would happily murder me if his god asked him to, and I am just a helpless cripple.”

Hvitserk reached for the jug of ale and refilled his cup, then poured one for Ivar too, and pushed it across the table toward his brother. “You are anything but helpless, Ivar, and you know that wasn’t what I meant.”

Ivar finished removing the second brace and placed it carefully next to the first, then accepted the drink with a nod. He smiled knowingly. “Oh, but that is exactly what you meant, brother.”

And once again, he was right. In a way, that was what he had meant. Ivar would be terrifying to face across the battlefield, coated in in the blood of his enemies, screaming a battle cry from his chariot, but in close, one-on-one combat, especially if he caught him off-guard, Heahmund would have the advantage. Even Ivar would have to admit that, surely.

“And you are right,” Ivar told him.

Hvitserk blinked in surprise. “What?”

Ivar slipped his knife back into its holster, produced a length of strong cloth from a pocket and tied it around his legs below the knees. “I said, you are right. Heahmund is a great warrior. I have no doubt that he would be able to overpower me if he chose to do so. In fact, I have no doubt he could overpower you too. But yet I am safe with him, as I have already explained to you.”

“It’s not only that he could hurt you,” Hvitserk told him. “You might find him…” he hesitated, “You might find him interesting, but I don’t think he feels the same way.”

Ivar laughed quietly. “Are you worried about me, brother?”

Hvitserk set his lips in a thin line. There were only so many ways that it could end, and there was no room for the possibility of happiness. He decided to change the direction of the argument. “Father had a Christian that he found interesting once,” he said. “Do you remember?”

“Athelstan.” Ivar shook his head. “Not really. I was too young when he died to really remember.”

“Well, I remember,” Hvitserk told him. He had been a child too, but he had been old enough to understand what had happened, and to follow what the adults around him were saying. “I just don’t want the same thing to happen to you as happened to father.”

Ivar rolled his eyes. “Ragnar was dropped into a pit of snakes by a king that we have since killed.” Ivar shook his head, then took a long gulp of his drink. “It is unlikely to happen again.”

He was playing dumb, of course. Or, perhaps he wasn’t, not completely. Ivar had been little more than an infant when Floki had killed the priest; a coddled and protected child who had had very little contact with his father. By the time he would have been old enough to understand, the people had stopped speaking of Ragnar and his pet Christian. There was a chance that Ivar didn’t know how deep their father’s feelings for the other man had been, or that after his death, Ragnar had never been the same.

Hvitserk sighed. “Yes, Ivar.” he said, returning to the question his brother had asked him a moment earlier. “I am worried about you. No matter what happens, Heahmund will eventually turn against you, and when he does, I think that it will break your heart.”

Ivar shook his head. “It would not be the first break I have had to endure.”

Hvitserk shook his head. “It’s not the same thing, Ivar. It’s not the same thing at all.”

“I disagree,” Ivar told him. “You think my heart didn’t break when Father died? Or Mother? When Floki climbed into a boat and disappeared into the open ocean? I know heartbreak, Hvitserk. I know it every bit as well as you do. Perhaps even more.”

Once again, his little brother was right. Hvitserk sighed and nodded. “Of course. I’m sorry, Ivar.”

“Anyway,” Ivar added, dismissing the moment with a wave of his hand. “If Heahmund betrays me, I will simply kill him, or have him killed.

“And you think you could just kill somebody that you love?”

Ivar frowned. “Whoever said anything about love?”

Hvitserk closed his eyes briefly. He hadn’t meant to say that, it had simply slipped out.

“Anyway,” Ivar added. “I am sure that if I could bury an ax in my own brother’s chest, I would have no trouble doing the same to a Christian priest. Whether I 'love' him, or not.”

Uninvited, the image of Sigurd staggering toward Ivar before dropping lifeless to the ground, forced its way into Hvitserk’s mind, and he took another swig of his drink as though he could wash it away. “He’s a bishop,” he reminded him, repeating Ivar’s words back to him.

Ivar smiled, apparently unaffected by the memory of their brother. “So he is.”

“And whatever you feel for him, Ivar, he doesn’t feel the same way about you.” Hvitserk was still thinking of Sigurd; he had already lost one brother, and after everything that had happened, he doubted that he could ever repair things between himself and Ubbe, or Björn either for that matter; they were trying to kill his mother after all. That left Ivar as the only family that he had left. He sighed deeply, trying not to think of everything that he had lost, but suddenly unable to think of anything else. “I don’t want to lose you as well.”

Apparently unmoved by the plea, Ivar finished his drink in a single gulp, put the cup down heavily on the table, pressed his palms into the bench to lift himself, then slid down to the ground. “You won’t,” he said. “I think we are stuck with each other, I am beginning to think the gods want us to stay together.”

With that, using his hands to move across the ground, he made his way to the door far more quickly than he had arrived on his feet.

For a moment, Hvitserk watched him go. “You might not love him yet, Ivar, but you’re halfway there,” he called after him. “Don’t deny it.”

Ivar paused briefly. He turned back to look at his brother with a smirk on his face, then continued on his way. As he reached the door, he turned again. “I deny it,” he said, then quickly pulled himself out of the door and disappeared out of Hvitserk’s sight, leaving behind nothing but his crutch and braces, and the sound of a quiet chuckle floating back into the room.

Hvitserk glared after his brother helplessly, left, as Ivar had no doubt intended, with two equally unappealing options; chasing after him and attempting to finish a conversation that Ivar clearly didn’t want to continue with, or shouting a response after him through the wall, with no idea whether Ivar had heard him.

Instead, Hvitserk finished his drink and poured himself another. For all that he still thought of Ivar as his little brother, he was a grown man, and he was capable of making his own mistakes. Hvitserk just hoped it wouldn’t be as costly a mistake as he feared…

[izzyfandoms]

Follow The Red String Path

SHIPS: Lomile, side Royality

CHARACTERS: Logan Sanders, Emile Picani, Roman Sanders and Patton Sanders

WARNING: Nothing

GENERAL TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @aj-draws @phantomofthesanderssides @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game @because-were-fam-ily @imtryingthisout @a-creepycookie @emo-disaster @littlestr @spooky-scary-virgil @fuyel @mimsidoodles @soupgremlin @aroaceagenderfluid @birdsbookshiddeninrealbirdsskin @quirkalurk @gingers-trashy-stuff @iinyxtello @justaqueercactus @melodiread @mrbubbajones @glassferns @pun-master-logan @gayturtlez

Masterpost

A Series Of Soulmate AUs Masterpost

The tug at the string tied around Logan’s finger wasn’t an unwelcome one.

An unexpected surprise, sure, but not a negative one. It made Logan look up from his textbooks that were laid out in front of him, and he smiled at the string that no one else saw. Then, he quickly curled his ring finger inwards, tugging the string back. Hopefully it was enough movement for his soulmate to feel, too. It would be nice for them to feel the same comfort he did, so he hoped they could, though he would never admit that aloud.

(Logan had a reputation for being serious and uninterested in relationships, and he wanted to make sure he kept that up.)

He took a moment to watch the taut red string: one long straight line that would eventually lead right to his soulmate. His gaze followed it across the room, up to the opposite wall that it passed right through.

One day, he would follow that string to find his soulmate, but he didn’t know when that day would be.

“Hey, hey, Lo!”

Logan straightened up, pulled from his thoughts, and he turned to look at his friend, Roman, who was sat just beside him.

“What is it, Roman?”

Roman grinned at him. “You staring at your string again?”

Logan felt his face warm, and he looked back down at the textbook between them.

“No,” he lied.

Roman laughed, clapping him on the back. “No need to lie to me, specs. You know I know you better than that. You may have everyone else fooled, but I know what a sap you are.”

“I am not a ‘sap’,” Logan argued, making quotation marks with his fingers. “And I also believe that you are being a massive hypocrite, here. You and Patton are the ‘saps.’”

“You say that likes it’s an insult!” Roman announced, in a much louder voice than he should’ve had in a library. Someone shushed him, and he shot them a sheepish smile and a wave, before turning back to Logan and lowering his voice. “And I am sure that when you meet your soulmate, you’ll be even worse.”

“That is a ridiculous notion, and also, frankly, impossible.”

“Well, you know what they say, opposites attract. And you are going to need the sweetest of soulmates to balance out your sour personality.”

Logan glared weakly at Roman. “Why am I friends with you?”

“Because I’m amazing!”

“That is debatable,” Logan mumbled. At Roman’s overly offended reaction, he sighed. “We are supposed to be revising for our exam this Friday, not having a friendly conversation.”

Roman leant back in his chair, tipping it onto its back two legs. “Psh, who cares about a dumb exam-”

“I do.”

“-all I care about is love! And since I have already found my soulmate, it is my job, as your best friend, to help you find yours.”

Logan gave Roman a flat look. “That is what the string on my finger is for. I will know them when I meet them, so there is therefore no reason to actively seek them out myself.”

“But that could be when you’re all old and grey! Don’t you want to find them now, so you can have even longer together?”

“I will find them when I find them,” Logan said flatly. “Now, we are going to revise, or you will fail math and Patton will be disappointed you. Do you want Patton to be disappointed in you?”

Needless to say, that was the one thing that could get Roman to study. He was always consistent in that way, and Logan was glad that he at least had that to help motivate his best friend to revise with him. Roman wasn’t the best at math, but helping him was good practice for Logan’s desired future as a teacher.

But when Patton arrived at the library and joined them about half an hour later, the studying was clearly over, as Roman was far too distracted by Patton’s curly hair and pretty smile – both things that Logan had listened to his best friend ramble about on many, many occasions – to pay any more attention to the textbooks. Logan tried to keep studying for a few minutes afterwards, but even he had trouble concentrating with a loudly flirting couple beside him.

It didn’t help that they kept trying to include him, which usually he would appreciate, but today he was trying to study, so it wasn’t very convenient.

Logan sighed, closing his textbook and catching the attention of Roman and Patton, who had been holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes for an amount of time that Logan would consider excessive.

“I don’t think we’ll be getting any more studying done, today.”

“Aww, don’t look so grumpy, Microsoft Nerd,” Roman said, letting go of one of Patton’s hands to place his on Logan’s shoulder. “You don’t need to revise, you’re already a genius, you’ll ace this test.”

“Yeah!” Patton agreed. “You’re so smart, Lo!”

Logan sighed. “Yes, well, that will only take me so far, so I was hoping to get some more studying done, but I suppose I’ll have to finish my revision at home.”

“Or,” Roman said, throwing his free arm around Logan’s shoulders. “You could come back to my house with us, and have a Disney movie marathon with us!”

“Ooh, yeah!” Patton agreed.

Logan pulled a face. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude, or – what's the phrase? – third wheel.”

“Aww, don't worry, Lo, you’re always welcome to hang out with us!” Patton said. “If anything, I’m the third wheel, ‘cos you guys are such great friends!”

“Oh, darling, don’t say that!”

“Okay, okay, we can all be the third wheels. We’re a tricycle!”

“I do not think that that’s how it works,” Logan commented as he collected his books and returned them to his backpack. Roman had forgotten to bring his own textbooks to their little library study session, so they’d had to share, which was a common occurrence.

Patton didn’t go to the same high school as them, but the other nearest one, so he and Roman didn’t have to travel far to spend time with each other, and did so almost every weekend. Logan was often invited, too. He liked to pretend he was being dragged along – he had a reputation to maintain, after all – but nobody was fooled.

“So, does that mean you’re coming, specs?”

Logan swung his backpack over his shoulder, making sure to hook both arms through the straps, before pushing his glasses further up his nose. He sighed.

“I suppose I can stay for one movie, but then I really must return to my studies.”

Both Roman and Patton cheered loudly, the former raising his hands triumphantly in the air (including the one still holding Patton’s), causing the two of them to be shushed by someone sat nearby. Roman huffed, and Patton apologised sheepishly, but Logan hardly noticed as his attention was suddenly captured by something else: his string.

It was moving.

Now, movement wasn’t too uncommon of an occurrence, but it was moving quickly, sliding across the room from one wall to another.

“Hey, nerd.” Roman waved his hand in front of Logan’s face. “What are you looking at?”

Logan turned to him, blinking. “I...” He swallowed. “My string, it’s moving.”

“Moving?”

Patton gasped, his whole face lighting up. “How quickly?” He asked.

“Much quicker than I have ever seen it move before.” Logan returned his gaze to the red string, which continued to move across the library, still through the wall. He allowed his hand to follow the motion, though there was nothing actually pulling him, so his friends could have a better understanding of its speed.

“Oh. My. Stars!” Roman’s eyes were bright. “You know what this means, right?” He asked excitedly.

“I- I think so,” Logan said, stumbling over his words in a way he didn’t often.

“They’re close!” Patton squealed. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh! Lolo, you have to follow it!”

“Yes, yes!” Roman agreed. “Come on, we’ll go with you!”

Logan opened his mouth a few times, taking his gaze off the string for a moment to look at his friends for answers. They both nodded supportively.

“Uh... uh- okay.”

“Yes!” Roman pumped his fist in the air.

“Go on,” Patton made a shooing motion with his free hand. “We’ll follow you, start moving before you lose them!”

At that, Logan began to do something he’d never done once before in his life.

He followed the string.

Out of the library. Down the street. Around the corner. Across the road.

He quickened his pace as he could feel in his gut that the string was getting shorter and shorter. He didn’t check behind him for Roman and Patton, but he could hear their footsteps and words of encouragement, though his mind was racing so fast he could barely process what he heard.

Was he really doing this? Did he dare get his hopes up, was he really about to meet his soulmate?

He tugged on his string, hoping that his soulmate could feel the sudden pull.

A moment passed, and then he felt them tug back. An answer.

It filled his heart with a hope that he would never admit aloud, even to his closest friends. Roman’s teasing about Logan being a ‘secret romantic’ would increase tenfold if he ever realised it was actually true.

Logan followed the string with his eyes, watching as it cut right through a building to his right. He took a moment to pause and think, calculating his path, before he decided to continue down the pavement he was stood on and turn right. He heard Roman and Patton slow and stop behind him, but before they could say anything, he started running again.

As he ran forward, his shoes thumping loudly against the concrete below him, his breaths short and quick, he watched – wide-eyed – as the string changed too, like his soulmate was moving parallel to him, though at a slower speed, so it was moving slightly behind.

He reached the end of the street and then turned a corner.

Roman and Patton were lagging behind – Patton wasn’t the fastest runner, and Roman would never go ahead without him – but Logan couldn’t focus on that.

He ran and ran and ran and ran.

He turned and-

Whack!

Logan collided with someone else running, and they both tumbled to the ground. He fell on his right leg and arm, and the first thing that crossed his mind when he hit the ground was that he would probably end up with some nasty bruises.

“Oh, gosh! I am so, so sorry,” came the voice right in front of him, sheepish and apologetic.

(A teenage boy, likely around the same age as Logan.)

Logan huffed, rubbing his arm. “It’s quite alright, I was the one who wasn’t looking where I was go-”

He cut himself off mid-word when his eyes landed on his string. It was no longer taut, like it had been every other day of his life, now loose and running across the ground, looping around itself and no longer cutting through anything.

He followed it, and froze in place when he finally laid eyes on the person on the other end of his red string.

From ring finger to ring finger.

From soulmate to soulmate.

“Oh,” Logan spoke in a strangled voice.

“Oh,” his soulmate repeated, in a much softer voice that made Logan’s heart skip a beat.

His soulmate was a teenage boy about his age, with a beige cardigan and a pastel pink tie the same shade as his dyed hair. He had big, round glasses, and his eyes were just as wide and surprised as Logan was sure his own were.

Logan wanted to say something, anything, but stumbled over his own words like he’d suddenly forgotten how to speak, and his soulmate seemed to be having the same problem.

He heard footsteps approach, quick and stopping just behind him, though his soulmate didn’t seem to notice them as his eyes were glued on Logan’s face. Logan hardly noticed, too, as he was also far too focused on staring back at his soulmate.

“Wow,” Roman laughed when he caught his breath. “You two have the same glasses!”

[erin-bo-berin]

Insecurities

MASTERLIST

TRIGGER WARNING just in case weight/gaining weight is triggering to any of you. I just wanted to be extra sure to mention it because I don’t wanna accidentally upset any of you lovelies.

This was an anon fic request about Spencer reassuring the reader after she’s become more insecure in her body de to some weight gain. I loved the cute fluffiness and smut writing this. It’s a bit shorter than most of my fics, but I really love how it turned out. I wanted it to be sweet and simple and it turned out exactly how I hoped. Prepare yourselves for some fluffy Spencer feels. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut)

Word Count: 1,967

You stood in front of the mirror, grimacing at both your actions and what you saw before you.

You’d never been thin, by society’s standards at least, but you were a healthy weight. Dreams of a flat stomach, small thighs and a perky butt filled your teenage years until you learned to love the body you’d come with.

It wasn’t until recently that your old insecurities had surfaced again. 

You’d gained some weight; enough to be noticeable that is. Your stomach had a pooch to it, your thighs looking wider when you sat. The bigger boobs you could deal with, but it was the widening of your hips and waist that made you most unhappy. Your fingers could squeeze the flesh there.

You were simultaneously ashamed of yourself for gaining so much weight and also for letting yourself sink back into teenage insecurities. You were in your mid-20’s, you shouldn’t be so obsessed with how thin or thick you were. Bodies changed all the time, it was a natural thing.

But that speck of low self-esteem that had wormed its way into your brain, lingered.

That was how Spencer, your boyfriend, had caught you one evening, in front of the mirror.

You were in your normal cotton panties and bra, the most comfortable set you owned and you were frowning, trying to tell if you were becoming frumpy or not.

“Now what’s that frown for?”

You spun around, startled to hear his voice. 

“I didn’t hear you come in,” you flushed.

You turned back to the mirror, still scowling.

You saw a frown of his own in the reflection of the mirror as he walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. He rested his chin on the top of your head, looking at your reflection with you.

“Baby, what’s the matter?”

He held you tightly, not uncomfortably tight, but just enough that you could feel the protection in his grasp. He was always so protective of you, something you found endearing. If only he could protect you from your toxic thoughts.

You sighed, resigned to admitting your fears. You hadn’t voiced them to Spencer yet, but you were sure by now it was noticeable.

“I’m just kicking myself for gaining weight. It’s gotten noticeable and I don’t like the way I look. I’m sure you don’t either.”

He jerked back from you like you’d slapped him. At first, you thought it was because your suspicions were confirmed and he was disgusted by you. But then you saw the look on his face.

“How could you say something like that?”

He looked hurt. 

You probably could have actually slapped him and he would’ve looked less hurt than he did now.

You turned around to face him and saw the downturn of his mouth and the furrow of his brows to display his upset manner.

“I’ve just been really self conscious lately...I’m sorry,” you said apologetically, “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

He turned you once again towards the mirror.

“I’m hurt that you’d think I wouldn’t love you, no matter what you look like.”

You winced, feeling foolish that you’d even voiced your thoughts.

“You see your thighs?”

His hands traced them gently, in a loving way.

“Unfortunately.”

“What do you see when you look at them?” he asked.

“Big, thunder thighs where half my weight gain has gone,” you mumbled.

“Well, what I see, is completely different, Y/N.”

“How so?” you asked, curious.

“What I see is the thighs that my pile of books fell on when I first met you. Or more like accidentally dumped a load of books on,” he chuckled.

You smiled, remembering that. It had been on the subway when Spencer had still used the public transport to get to work. You’d been sitting by yourself, earbuds in your ears and listening to an audiobook when all of a sudden what seemed like an avalanche of books came raining down onto your lap. Poor Spencer was red faced and embarrassed, but that one chance encounter led to so much more.

“And they look no different to me than the day I met you,” he continued, “Now, see these hips?”

“They’ve gotten huge,” you frowned.

“You don’t see me complaining,” he smirked, squeezing them playfully, making you chuckle.

“Anyway, on a serious note. These curves are what enticed me when you wore that pretty blue dress on our first date. They were—and still are—mesmerizing to me.”

His fingers trailed up your sides and across your stomach.

“And your stomach? I love that it’s realistic, that you still have rolls when you sit. It’s normal for even the tiniest person. But I love that you aren’t afraid to eat. That’s not the only thing, it’s my favorite spot to lay my head on, your tummy.”

You smiled. He loved to lay on you when you were relaxing, watching tv or even just cuddling. Sometimes his head would lay on your stomach as you played with his hair and he looked up at you with his heart in his eyes.

“I see your point,” you mumbled, fighting another smile.

“Maybe one day, this stomach will also grow with our baby,” he smiled at your reflection in the mirror.

“I also love your smile, it’s so bright and contagious. It lights up a room. I love your eyes, the way they sparkle when you’re excited about something. I also love seeing all your love in them when you look at me. I love your laugh. It’s filled with joy and nothing but it. I love everything about you Y/N. I don’t care if you’ve gained a little weight.”

Your heart couldn’t expand with any more love or happiness than you felt now. 

“In fact, I love your curves so much; the thicker the better, am I right?” Spencer smirked.

You chuckled, slapping his hands away playfully.

He in turn, turned you so you were facing each other. His fingers brushed your cheek.

“I love you. No matter what you think, how you look, I will always love you.”

His lips met yours and you kissed him with all the love you felt for him. It was passionate, sweet, soft, but fiery. 

You pulled him closer as the kisses grew more heated and his hands reached for the back of your bra, unfastening it.

“I wanna show you just how much I love your body,” he whispered against your lips.

He picked you up, carrying you across the room to the bed, setting you on it gently.

You watched him curiously as he laced his fingers underneath the waistband of your underwear, pulling them off.

He leaned down, kissing your nose, then your lips.

“I love these,” he smirked, tapping a finger over your lips.

Then he kissed across your collarbones, making sure to leave a kiss upon each of your shoulders. His trail of kisses led down to your breasts.

“I definitely love these,” he chuckled, placing a kiss on the swell of each of them.

He took one nipple in mouth sucking on it gently, his hand kneading your other breast. With a small gasp from your lips, your body arched toward his mouth.

You tugged at the material of his shirt, indicating you wanted it off. He parted from you with a sly grin.

“Patience.”

He discarded his shirt and returned his attention to you. You squirmed under his gaze making him smile.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just feel so...exposed,” you grinned, realizing that technically you were.

“Well, one,” his smirk returned as his hands roamed your exposed skin, “You actually are exposed. And two, it’s not like this is our first rodeo.”

You knew he was right. But voicing your earlier self-conscious thoughts had made you feel vulnerable in a way that physical intimacy had never had. His expression changed when he saw you contemplating your words.

“What is it, honey?” 

“I just feel more vulnerable than ever after voicing my insecurities,” you whispered, your gaze locking with his.

“I’m glad you told me,” he answered, his hands stroking your sides, “Because it gives me that much more motivation to show you why I think you’re perfect in my eyes.”

His kisses trailed downwards until his lips reached the top of your thighs. Your legs inadvertently parted a bit, earning a deep chuckle from him.

His hands were gentle on your thighs as was his mouth on your core. His tongue traveled over you like you were a piece of china, so incredibly delicate. Your soft moans filled the room as your fingers simultaneously tugged on his hair.

He didn’t stay there for long though. His goal was to just tease a bit before he got to the main act.

When he’d reached your face again, he kissed you tenderly, sliding into you at the same time. This was a much more gentle intimacy that you were usually used to.

His thrusts started out more slow and gentle as he continued to kiss you, his tongue twirling with yours. You held onto him, as if you couldn’t get close enough when you were already as connected as two souls could be.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, your timid noises giving him the slightest pause before his hips joined yours in a bit of a faster pace. 

It was far from normal sex, this was actual lovemaking you read about in romance novels or watched in theatrical love stories. You could feel every ounce of his love pour into you with each thrust into you.

“Spencer,” you murmured, bringing his face close to yours again.

Your lips met briefly before you pulled away, just to watch him, your eyes taking in every little detail about him as you both shared one of the deepest intimacies a couple could.

His lips hovered over yours as he moved within you, his gaze finding yours before his eyes fell closed, lost to the bliss. His groans reverberated through you, adding to the sensuality.

Your fingers dug into his back as his thrusts became more erratic. His hands pushed your legs further up his sides, granting even deeper access to you. Your breathy gasp was approval enough of the movement. 

Spencer watched you as you, too, lost yourself to the feeling of the two of you connected and as close as could be. Your lips were parted as you whimpered and moaned underneath him, your name falling from his lips more repeatedly now.

“God, I love you so fucking much,” he groaned into your neck, his release fast approaching.

You felt him tense above you, his low growl right in your ear as he came apart, your name coming from him like a mantra.

Your hand gripped his hair tightly as you came apart not long after him, your moans echoing in the bedroom.

When he slowed, his eyes found yours, his lips meeting yours gently in a sweet kiss. It was only when you parted from his kiss that you smiled up at him, feeling more loved than you could ever explain.

“You’re beautiful beyond belief, Y/N,” he mumbled, thumb stroking your cheek.

“I love you, Spencer.”

It was only when you parted from one another and the tangle of sheets and were laying in his arms that he spoke again.

“Will you still love me when I’m old and fat? You know I’m a sucker for Rossi’s cooking.”

You laughed, hitting his chest playfully.

“Of course I would love you, no matter what you look like.”

“Then you understand why I say I love you, even if you’ve gained a few pounds.”

You smiled, knowing he meant the words wholeheartedly.

It was then that you knew, everything would be okay. Your insecurities didn’t hold a flame to Spencer’s love.

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[wanda-chaos-witch]

Happy Birthday Vis!

It was Vision’s birthday, not that anyone had remembered, except Wanda.

She had bought him a book. Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo and Juliet.’ She figured that it was a classic and she knew he had not read it. She wasn’t sure if he was the type to enjoy fiction. But if she knew him at all, which she had better after meeting him a year ago... She knew he was always open to trying new things.

She folded over the wrapping paper and secured it neatly with a strip of tape. She smiled at the red package and jumped as someone knocked on her door.

“Hey Sabrina.” She could hear the smirk in his voice.

Wanda rolled her eyes at Tony’s pop culture reference.

She sighed heavily, “I’m 26 I’m not a teenager, and I’m not a witch...I don't answer to that name Stark.”

“You just did. What are you up to? I’m bored.” Tony called through the door.

“Nothing much you can come in.” Wanda replied.

Tony opened the door his eyes immediately drawn to the shiny red package.

“Ooo Whats that.” He asked reaching for it.

Wanda smacked his hand away, “No its not for you.”

“Ouch! Okay, then who’s it for?” He frowns.

“It’s for Vision... Do you seriously not remember what day it is?” Wanda exclaims.

Tony stared at her blankly.

The brunette gasped loudly, crossing her arms over her chest, “It’s Vision's birthday! You created him how could you forget?!”

“I didn’t forget! I just... didn't remember right away... Shit.”

Wanda sighed.

“Hey, can you get him out of the house for a bit? It shouldn't take me too long to whip something up for him...” Wanda could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“I don’t know Tony... I mean I already got him something.” Wanda shrugged.

“Oh come on please! I don't want to disappoint him.” Tony frowned.

Wanda was surprised at his frankness. She sighed,

“Alright fine. I can keep him occupied for an hour, maybe an hour and a half. I don't know if I can keep him from getting suspicious though.”

Tony nodded rapidly, “I can work with that time frame.”

He pressed a button on his watch.

“Friday call Pepper Pots tell her its a code red.”

[“You got it boss”] A speaker in the room spoke.

Tony made eye contact with Wanda, “Wanda go get Vision for me okay?”

Wanda got out of her office chair and walked to the door, squeezing past Tony on the way out.

“I’m on my way stark.”She retorted

o0o

She searched around for the friendly android finally finding him standing perfectly still in the main room.

“Please move slowly Wanda. I don’t want to scare them off.” Vision -who must have sensed her presence- spoke softly.

Wanda inched her way over to Vision, who was staring out the window of the main living space at some birds.

Wanda smiled at how intently he was studying those birds.

Before finally remembering her mission to get him out of the house.

“You know you should get some fresh air.” She suggested.

“As a Syntheoid the air quality matters very little to me.” Vision replied as he watched the bluebird in her nest curiously.

Wanda sighed, and turned Vision gently by his arms to face her.

He cocked his head to the side.

“Vision?”

“Yes Wanda?”

“Would you like to go on a walk with me?” Wanda asked.

Vision’s eyes widened comically, “Oh! Is that what you meant? Yes, that would be very nice.”

Wanda smiled.

“Let me grab my jacket.”

A few minutes later the two were walking out across one of the large grassy fields.

“So how have you been Wanda?” Vision asked, his hands clasped together behind his back.

“I’m doing well thank you Vision.” Wanda replied as she struggled to keep up to his long strides.

Vision noticed this and adjusted to accommodate her shorter stature.

“Back at the Compound. Do you happen to know what species of bird that was?” Vision asked.

“Beautiful wasn’t it?”

“Yes. I believe so.”

“I think it was a blue bird of some sort... hang on let me check.” Wanda pulled out her phone and searched. “An Eastern Bluebird.”

“Well that name certainly lacks imagination.” Vision seemed almost disappointed.

Wanda chuckled. “And what would you call it then?”

Vision frowned. “I don't know.”

Wanda smiled at him, and he smiled back, glancing away shyly after a moment.

They walked on for a while in companionable silence.

Until Wanda surveyed their surroundings and gasped.

“What?!” Vision exclaimed.

“Nothing to worry about. Look! Swings!” Wanda exclaimed.

Vision frowned. “I don't follow.”

Wanda gestured to the park that they had walked near.

She looked over at Vision who still seemed ready to defend her from some sort of threat.

“Come on!” She grabbed him by the hand and dragged him to the park.

Vision watched her carefully as she let go of his hand and sat down on the swing set.

“Come join me!”Wanda giggled

“Are those not primarily for children?” he asked.

“Hey technically you are only a year old... If anything you are too young to be on a swing.” Wanda retorted. “Besides do you see any children around?”

Vision looked around, it was a very empty park.

Vision sighed and sat down on the swing next to her. He looked over at her curiously.

“What are the purpose of swings?” He asked, watching as Wanda began to pump her legs.

Wanda frowned in concentration “It’s... it kind of gives you the feeling of falling without any of the risk.”

Vision nodded sagely, “Ah, the chains and seat provide safety as you swing?”

Wanda nodded.

“Do you want a push to get started?” She asked

“I suppose so.” He replied.

Wanda waved her hand and Vision was gently pushed forward with some of her magic.

His eyes widened as he clutched onto the chains tightly, the metal groaning in protest.

Wanda giggled at him.

o0o

The time flew past as they visited, and as the sun began to set Wanda received a text message from Tony.

“Okay Maximoff, we’re all set up here. Why don't you bring the Kid home?”

“What’s that?” Vision asked looking over at her phone’s glow.

“We’re apparently out past our curfew. Tony wants us back at the compound.” Wanda replies.

“It’s getting dark anyway.” Vision replies with a small smile.

Vision offered Wanda his arm as he took her home, as his sight was better than hers in the dark.

“Is that a new scorch mark on the grass?”

“I guess Thor is here.” Wanda replied.

“It would appear so.” Vision puzzled.

Wanda opened the door before Vision could get to it. He furrowed his brow, but his confusion was quickly replaced with another emotion.

“Surprise!!!” Tony and the others shouted.

Vision jumped, and stood there in shock for a moment, before offering Wanda a sly smile.

“Were you distracting me?” He exclaimed

“What gave it away?” She retorted

Tony smirked and grabbed him by the arm dragging him into the compound “Come on in birthday boy!”

“Happy birthday Vision.” Steve smiled.

“Thank you Captain.”

o0o

The party was winding down at around one in the morning. Laura and Clint had just said goodbye to Vision and Wanda as Wanda made her way to the balcony on which Vision stood.

“Hey, happy birthday.” Wanda smiled “You were so swarmed by people that I wasn’t able to say that.”

“Well, Thank you.”

“You tired yet?” Wanda asks.

Vision cocks his head to the side, “I do not get tired.”

“Not physically I meant socially.” Wanda explains.

He frowned.

Wanda bit her lip trying to think of how to explain this.“The party was nice but you have left it, meaning you needed a break?”

“Yes, Precisely.” He smiles, happy she understands.

They sit again in companionable silence.

“I still don't understand the reason for birthdays.” Vision admits.

Wanda shrugs then smiles. “Well I think that the day you were created should be celebrated... I got you something.”

“Oh? You didn’t have to. Your presence is a gift enough.” He smiles.

“Vision?”

“Yes Wanda?”

“Open the damned gift.”

His eyes widen and he takes the package beginning to unwrap it

“A book?” he asks.

“Shakespeare.” Wanda replies

“Romeo and Juliet, yes I have heard of it.”

Wanda tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I thought the human interest of it might pique your interest.”

Vision smiles widely, his eyes crinkle at the edges making him look very human. “I’ve been meaning to read some Shakespeare, thank you very much Wanda.”

For some reason Wanda is blushing. “Of course! I saw it and thought of you.”

Vision set down the gift with a smile and initiated a rather awkward hug.

Which despite the awkwardness both parties enjoyed more than either would say.

“Shall we return to the party?” Vision asks.

She smiles, “Yes. We shall.”

Vision picked up the book and its wrapping and opened the door for Wanda. She smiled at him.

o0o

Tony and Pepper, were slow dancing to some music in the living room.

Thor, Steve, Natasha and Doctor Cho sat in one of the lounge areas, drinking and visiting.

“Ah there you two are. What were you two up to?” Natasha asks, wiggling her eyebrows at Wanda.

Wanda frowned at Natasha who smirked in response.

“Wanda was giving me her gift.” Vision brandished the book so everyone could see.

“Ah, Shakespeare. A novel book indeed.” Thor smiled. “Hello Lady Wanda.”

“Hello Thor.” Wanda waved.

“Come sit!” Natasha exclaimed, “Wanda you and Doctor Cho met right?”

Dr. Cho nodded. “Yes, she saved my life.”

“Hardly.” Wanda replied.

Nat took a sip from her wine glass, and waved her unoccupied hand at Vision. “And this is Vision.”

Dr. Cho smiled. “I am so glad to see that all my hard work didn’t go to waste.”

Vision nodded, “As am I. Thank you for coming Doctor.”

Helen Cho smiled, “Of course. It’s always nice to go to a party, especially one dedicated to such a nice Syntheziod.”

Vision smiled again.

“It’s a shame you can’t drink Vision, I wonder what you would be like drunk.” Tony shouts from the dance floor as Pepper leads him to the group.

Wanda chuckled. “I’m not sure we would want to see that.”

Vision frowns “I don't understand the logic behind drinking.”

“That’s because there is none.” Wanda replies.

“I suppose we cant tempt you either Wanda?” Tony asks.

“Nope I like being sober, gives me lots of blackmail opportunities.” Wanda replies.

Thor chuckles.

o0o

“Well, I hope you had a good party Vision.” Wanda says as she waves goodbye, and goodnight to the party of people.

Vision is thoughtful for a moment, “I did enjoy the day today.”

“Oh?” Wanda smiles pleasantly.

“Yes but it was not because of the party.” He smiled softly. “Goodnight Wanda.”

Wanda’s face was bright red as Vision phased through the floor to get to his room.

A girlish chuckle, resounds from a dark corner of the room. “Oh... That was smooth.”

“Natasha!” Wanda exclaims.

“I’m going! I’m going...” Nat replies and scurries out of the room Tossing a wink at Wanda over her shoulder.

@thewitchsvision happy (belated) birthday, My dear. I've been really lucky to find you both as a roleplay partner and as a friend! I hope you had a wonderful birthday and many more to come!

[devnicolee]

The Chosen Ones (6)

Warnings: Slow burn, angst 

Word Count: 9,150

Pairings: M’Baku x Original Character

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

A/N: This took forever... slowly realizing I am a slow writer lol also this story was only supposed to be 5 chapters. It is going to be more like 8. Someone teach me how to write shorter stories and chapters lol Enjoy!

Asha gingerly opened her eyes to the darkness of her bedroom, her deep red curtains blocking the sunlight she knew tried to shine through her window. She stretched her arms and legs slightly, grimacing at the soreness that still coursed through her bones. She closed her eyes again, focusing internally to feel her powers once again at full force. The panther inside was rested and rejuvenated... ready for a new day. After years of begging to be rid of them, it was unnerving and terrifying to have exhausted them the way she did last night. She was slowly coming to realize that even in her lifelong hate of her powers, she still relied on them to catch her if she ever fell. Last night was an example of what would happen when the safety net was not beneath her. That was enough to force the young princess on her journey to accepting her powers, even without her conversation with Bast.

She thought back to her conversation with Bast briefly but refused to let her mind spiral too far down that black hole.

It is too early to dissect that, she determined silently. She would need a cup of strong coffee… maybe Jabari rum, to process that. 

She lazily rolled over to her side, eyes still heavy and tired, deciding to fall back into the unconscious world for a bit. Quiet moments passed before she opened her eyes again, coming face to face with the slumbering giant in her bed. Her eyes widened with shock as she took in M'Baku's resting form and deep, gentle snores.

I must have been more tired than I thought last night, she thought to herself, knowing that if she had all her wits about her... she certainly would not have forgotten falling asleep with the man of her dreams under her covers.

The desire for more sleep vanished like a flash of lightning. Small flashes of the night before appeared in her mind like a movie. Him carrying her to the fire, her asking him to stay in her bed, his heavy arm pulling her close to him, the warmth of his chest, him saying he would care if she died.

I would care. 

How could three simple words carry so much weight? Perhaps because aside from her siblings, no one had ever said it about her before. She loved him... She was in love with him. And she never felt it more strongly or deeply than last night when he held her in his arms. They hadn't done anything... hadn't even shared a kiss but that was intimacy unlike anything Asha had ever experienced. Staying like this with him was far more appealing than the drama she knew waited for her outside her bedroom's vibranium-enforced walls. 

She could see it now: waking up to his soft snores in the mornings, the thumps of his strong heartbeat against her ear as she laid on his chest, his strong arms wrapped around her to keep her close and safe, his natural body heat keeping her warm. She wanted it... craved it. And she thought nothing could top waking up in his bed that morning in Jabariland? This beat that by miles.

Her fingers ran up and down his bicep, feeling the strong muscle beneath the surface that gave him his sculptured figure. His eyes opened slowly at her light touch, the warrior inside crushing the heavy sleeper he once was as a child. A smile crept across his face as he took her in for the first time that day, a sight he certainly could get used to. He decided that there would be no better way than to start his days than with this woman by his side.

"Good morning," he said, his deep voice raspy and somehow more sexier than normal to Asha. 

"Good morning," she answered back, a sly smile on her face.  A silence fell over the two for a few moments as they just laid and stared at each other. Asha looked away, the intensity in his eyes too much for her. The joy of waking up with him was slowly morphing into dread. It was unfortunate that she could so clearly articulate the feelings she had for him to herself but the moment she had the opportunity to say them to him? She clammed up and shut down. The sun was up and a new day meant they would have to talk... about their complicated feelings, what they could be to each other, what it would mean for their families, their tribes. Asha didn't even know if she was still engaged... though she figured it was a safe guess to assume that arrangement had ended. 

She knew she wanted to choose M'Baku and figured he felt the same. After all, why would he still be here if he didn’t? But still, she dreaded asking... dreaded revealing her true feelings only to be disappointed. Asha's life was a series of moments where she thought things were going well and life veered down a hill of ragged rocks. Hasani was a great example... something she thought could work out only to be sadly mistaken. She was tired of expecting smooth sailing only to be met with rough seas and disappointment. She wanted desperately to believe this would be different, but her fear was real. She didn't know which conversation she was dreading more: the one with her brother and sister or the one in front of her right now. 

"W-we should probably get up, yes? I need to talk to my brother and sister. I-I should have called them last night," Asha said quickly, stumbling over her words a bit. Ultimately, she chose her siblings, that crisis seemed less daunting than whatever was going on between them. Besides, it seemed selfish to focus on building a new life with someone after lighting her old one on fire. It was her duty to help put it out first. 

She watched a look of surprise and disappointment flash across his face as she sat up to get out of bed. But to his credit, he did not voice it. He didn't want to get around her family and lose the opportunity to finally talk about them. He knew what last night meant for her family and he felt for them. But he also knew that last night meant the end of her engagement. M'Baku was not as selfless as he hoped to be so he couldn't help but see all of this as another barrier between them falling, granting them a clearer path ahead. But as T'Challa rightfully reminded him, selfishness was not Asha's way. They would need to deal with the consequences of last night before she would ever consider their future.

"Yes. Your sister left these for you, since yours were destroyed."  

He handed her a delicate set of new beads, which she quickly slid onto her wrist as she muttered a soft thank you. They blinked purple for a few moments when they touched her wrist, resyncing themselves with her information. 

M'Baku quickly excused himself to go back to his own guest room and change his clothes, allowing Asha to do the same.  

Asha used the new set of beads Shuri left with M'Baku to send messages to her siblings, mother, and Nakia, asking the group to meet her in T'Challa's office in 15 minutes. She was desperate to see them, to talk to them. Guilt rose like bile in her throat as she contemplated what to say, the appropriate apologies and explanations she needed to give for her reckless actions. Her father always said she would be the downfall of their tribe and she always vowed to prove him wrong. She had quite spectacularly failed at that. She knew they would ask about her flying adventure and she was not quite sure on what to tell them. Would she tell them of her near brush with death, her visit to the Planes, her conversation with Bast... her desperate attempts to stay there?

No... she quickly decided. 

The rest? Maybe, Bast seemed to believe there was some quest she had to fulfill and she had no earthly idea what it could be. Perhaps the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio could help her decipher Bast's riddles. But she knew she could never tell them that she tried to choose death, that would be hard to admit and even harder for them to hear. 

Once dressed, she walked outside her room to find Alexis waiting. Her guard did not even attempt to hide her jubilation at seeing the Princess alive, well and whole as she quickly swept the girl into a tight hug. Despite her surprise, Asha returned it with equal vigor, tightly wrapping her guard and confidant in her embrace. 

"Don't ever scare us like that again," Alexis stated sternly in her ear, though there was a plea buried under Alexis' usual abrasive tone.

"Never... I promise," Asha said back. It seemed Alexis decided that her stern warning would do and let the young girl go. Asha smiled at her before the two started toward M'Baku's guest quarters. 

M'Baku emerged from his door as soon as his guard knocked to alert him of Asha's arrival, having been ready moments before. The two shared a smile but no words, having just seen each other, and continued on the journey to T'Challa's office. 

Asha tried her best to ignore the stares and hushed whispers of the palace staff they passed. She knew what it meant. Her powers were no longer a palace secret... the thing many knew of or suspected but dared not talk about. Now, she imagined the secret was free and circulating through the palace and country like air, being soaked up by person after person after person. She felt exposed, naked… particularly without her rings she completely destroyed. 

However, she was determined not to let them get to her. Where yesterday's Asha would have shrunk into the shadows and hid in her room, today's Asha forced herself to hold her head high. It was difficult, she found herself desperate to hide at moments. But every time she did, a voice whispered to her and reminded her that she was a child of Bast. If Bast would not tolerate her kneeling before her, she certainly would not accept her cowering before anyone else. 

Asha knew the true transformation into the person Bast wanted her to be... the person she was apparently meant to be would take time. One meeting with Bast, one night would not change how she felt about herself, or stop her desire to run away from who she was. She knew she was still miles away from where Bast wanted her to be and where Wakanda apparently needed her to be, but she would celebrate any small step in the right direction. 

They rounded a corner and found themselves face to face with T'Challa's unmanned office door. She didn't announce her presence, simply opening the door to find her favorite people in this world huddled around T'Challa's desk. She didn't get a word out or even cross the threshold of the office before a speeding ball crashed into her and almost knocked her off her feet. There was no need to look down and figure out who it was, only one person in her world hugged like a mini cannonball.

She wrapped her arms tightly around her sister before pulling back to hold her face in her hands. Shuri looked as though she aged years in that one night. She looked up and found similar looks of worry and exhaustion on everyone else's face, bags and worry lines that could not be hidden by their wide smiles at seeing her.

Shuri seemed reluctant to let her go but finally did, giving her brother the chance to wrap her in a bone-crushingly tight hug.

"We are glad you are ok," he said.

Just hearing his voice, the voice of her first and fiercest protector caused tears to spring up to her eyes. She hid them as best she could but she knew the dam wouldn't hold for much longer. The round-robin of hugs continued with Nakia and Okoye before Asha turned back to face her brother again.

Her right hand fidgeted with the long sleeve on her cardigan, her apprehension and nerves clearly on display. They calmed slightly at the soothing circles M'Baku rubbed into her back and his presence so close to her as she tried to overcome the tightness in her vocal chords. When she finally looked up at T'Challa again, he was shocked to see tears streaming down her face. 

"I-I am so sorry T'Challa," she whispered. "Running away like that... scaring you all like that. I-it was selfish and i-it was wrong. A-a-and I never should have provoked Elder Shani in the first place. This is all my fault, I feel horrible. I am just... please forgive me." 

"Why in Bast's name are you talking about? You can't think any of us blame you for this?" Shuri asked, her confusion painted clearly on her face.

"How could you not? After what I said to her... and fleeing like that? I mean I broke a window for Bast’s sake." Asha's eyes bounced between the two, searching for a hint of anger or disappointment, searching for the reactions she had built up in her mind. But she couldn't find any of it.

T'Challa chuckled, "You mistake us for Baba, Asha. We are not him... unreasonable and apathetic. Nothing you said to Elder Shani was untrue or wrong. It was your right to speak up as my advisor. Elder Shani made a choice and those choices are not your fault, nor are they a reflection of you. We were worried about you, of course. But we certainly do not blame you. We will have to speak about the window though," he added with a smile, winking at her.  

"Quite frankly, you did us all a favor," Shuri added, waving off Asha's concerns with her hand as she hoisted herself up slightly to sit on T’Challa’s desk. "Keeping that secret was killing you, hurting the tribe's reputation with all those lies. Now, we don't have to worry about that anymore. The laws are gone. You can set things on fire to your heart's content and no one can hold it over our heads again." 

Asha nodded slowly, "I know not everyone feels that way... where is mama?" she asked, acknowledging the absence of a key member of the Panther Tribe.

Asha tried not to feel affronted by the fact that she almost died and her own mother had not come to see about her. She knew it was long past time to accept her mother's lukewarm reception of her. She always thought of her as an ally but as she grew and analyzed her childhood, she recognized that Ramonda was merely an extension of her husband. She would never fully love Asha as a mother should. But for reasons unknown, or rather that she did not yet want to admit, she still held hope that her mother would be more to her. And she was always disappointed. 

T'Challa and Shuri could not control their immediate reaction to share a dark glare with each other. Asha appreciated their attempts to hide it and put on for her benefit. But she knew it was just that... an act.

"Mama said she would see you later. Don't worry about her. She is glad you are alright," T'Challa managed to say, though lying was never his strong suit, with a failed attempt at a reassuring smile on his face.  

"It is high time you two stop lying about things for my benefit. I know, just as well as you do, that, at best, she is begrudgingly happy about my survival," Asha snorted, eyes rolling as she settled down on the couch across from T'Challa's desk. 

"But we are not here to discuss mama... we are here to discuss the other woman who hates me. How bad is it?" Asha asked, moving on to more important matters than her mother's indifference toward her. Jitters coursed through her body as she waited to hear of the damage her stunt brought upon them. She felt M'Baku's weight settle on the couch next to her, his presence forcing some of those jitters to melt away.

M'Baku stayed silent throughout their meeting, feeling like an outsider in a family reunion. He felt assured in his presence knowing Asha indeed wanted him there. Her body gravitated toward his, leaning into his side the moment he sat down on the couch. His hand instantly found its home on her knee, her fingertips grazed his arm gently. It was so natural, he almost didn't realize it and wondered if she even noticed it herself. The intimacy of their soft, effortless touches were not lost on him or the other occupants of this office. He imagined it looked as if they had been in love for years, that was surely how it felt to him. Except, he didn't know what they were... in love, yes. In sync? Not so much.

T'Challa leaned against his wooden desk, suddenly looking older, the burdens of a king etched on his face. He rubbed his eyes like an exhausted child and folded his arms across his chest before answering,  "It is, unfortunately, as we feared. Elder Shani has launched a campaign against the Panther Tribe. She has already gathered a group of vocal anti-mutants to support her and told anyone who will listen the truth of your status and the web of lies built to hide it. If it is any consolation, it seems to us that most of the country is enraged by the lies and secrets, not your actual status."

"The River Tribe and the Jabari are firmly behind us. The Mining and Border Tribes are still on the fence, refusing to signal support either way. We believe she will use the King's Exhibition tomorrow as her moment to publicly demand another challenge," Shuri added. 

"Can she do that?" M'Baku asked.  

"Technically, yes. It hasn't been done in a century and has always failed. But the majority of the Council can demand another challenge for the throne if they have sufficient evidence against the King. If she convinces the mining and border tribes to join her, she will have her majority." 

"Our best bet is to remind the Mining and Border Tribes of the long-term implications of another challenge. If we strip T'Challa of his powers to challenge for the throne, it will be the end of the Black Panther. The last of the herbs runs through his veins," Nakia offered from her spot by the window. 

Asha's head lulled into her hands, her soft moan of exasperation muffled through her fingers. She loathed to think about it, but her father was right. The truth was out and their tribe was beginning to crumble. 

"Your engagement to Hasani has been called off, not officially. But we have no reason to uphold our end of that bargain when she did not uphold hers. It is nothing we cannot handle, Asha."

Asha nodded, slowly standing and pacing by the couch. Her fingers twisted among themselves as she walked, thinking. "Ok. So how do we stop her? What do we need to -"  

"No, there is nothing we need to do. Shuri and I had a long conversation last night and we decided that whatever comes of this, wherever this takes us... it is no longer your concern." 

Her pacing ceased, her hands fell to her sides as his words hit her. There was no malice, no intention of harm in his words... not even a hint of harshness. And yet, the words felt like a slap to the face, a slight. "T'Challa... what? What is that supposed to mean?"

He walked up to her, taking her hands in his firmly, ignoring her immediate instinct to rip them away. He saw the flickers of hurt in her eyes and needed to explain. He felt responsible for all this carnage that surrounded them. M'Baku was right. T'Challa always did the easiest thing when it came to his sister, never taking the leap that would actually free her. It was his determination as her big brother to free her, no matter the cost to him or their family. And it was time she stopped lugging around the weight of the consequences alone.

"It means that our parents laid the fate of our family... our legacy at your feet and that was unfair. Forced you to carry a weight alone that is all of ours. Your life has never been your own because of that. We will not do that any longer. As king, the fate of our family and tribe is my cross to bear. The rest of this life is yours... to experience something different, choose something different." His eyes lingered on M'Baku for a moment for he knew, even if his sister didn't yet, that life in Jabariland was that something different she needed to explore.

Asha was rarely at a loss for words but she couldn't think of anything to say. What he offered, she desperately wanted to accept. After all, it is what she always wanted. To be free of this place and all that came with it. But after her conversation with Bast, she now worried that her heart's desire was not her destiny. She was born into this family for a reason. If her destiny was to live happily in Jabariland, Bast could have put her there from the start. But no... she was here and that meant that whatever she was meant to do in this life, she couldn't turn her back on her role for good. After 15 years of believing she had to get rid of her powers to truly be in this family or that she had to leave in order to be free, she now actually saw a path in which she could have both.

She squeezed his hand before replying, "I love you both... more than anyone in this life. And I appreciate this, truly. But we are our family's present and future. So we share the burden of leading this country and its people. I can no more dissolve myself of the responsibilities that come with that than you can. I cannot leave here and pretend I do not care what happens to our family." 

"But you said you couldn't stay here anymore?" Shuri asked. 

"I did say that... before. But I don’t know how true that is now. Before I d-didn’t see a lot of choices.  I wanted so desperately to be loved and wanted in this life. I just wanted to be like you two... you both live lives that are vibrant, filled with your passions and joy... filled with hope. It always hurt to watch you both live the lives you so richly deserved while I could not. But when I got back from Jabariland, days spent watching what my life here could have been like, I realized I couldn't ignore that pain anymore. I couldn't be satisfied with a half-life anymore, which is why I took the easy way out and ran. But you two are my family and this is my home. You two are in this world so I do not have a desire to choose a different one.”

T'Challa nodded, understanding, "We just want you to find happiness, Asha. Even if it is not with us... even if it is not here." 

"The only happiness I have ever known has been with the people in this room. I can find some more happiness outside these walls and not turn my back on our family at the same time. I thought I couldn't but Bast showed me that I could, made me remember that you all are worth that. You are the reason I came back."

"'Came back?'" Shuri repeated slowly, confusion evident in her tone and on her face. "What do you mean?"  

Asha bowed her head, internally frustrated at her slip up. She thought about lying but that wasn’t them. She, Shuri and T'Challa were different. She always felt like they would never understand the depths of her sadness and pain. But they proved her wrong time and time again. They might not have understood fully but they never stopped trying, never stopped listening.

"Um... well, when I fell, I went to the Ancestral Plane." 

The air in the room became thick with tension as her words sank down upon them. T'Challa's body went rigid, his shock and anger clear in his facial expression. Tears welled up in Shuri's eyes. M'Baku leaped up from his seat, immediately tugging on her elbow to turn Asha's attention toward him.

Asha's body was tired of crying, exhausted of it, and yet the look of rage and pain in his face made her throat tight and tear ducts active again.

"You died?" he whispered, words barely above a whisper to keep the shakiness out of his voice.  

"How are you here?" Okoye asked as the only person who managed to maintain their composure, though her face did seem harder than usual. "How is this possible? No one but the Black Panther can visit the Planes and return." 

Asha scratched her head, unsure on how to explain something that she didn't fully understand herself. Scientifically, she knew what happened to her should not have been possible but what about any of this was scientific? It was all determined by Bast and she did not adhere to the rules of man. 

"I don't know. Truly. Bast said I wasn't dead but that the fall was an opportunity for her to speak with me. She did say that it was my choice of whether to stay or return here. I chose to return."

"Bast? The Bast?" T'Challa whispered. 

"Yes... The Bast... Panther Goddess of Wakanda and all that. You talked to her on your trip to the Plane yes?" Asha asked, confused as to why her brother looked more shocked than the rest of them. It was a known fact that the Black Panther visited the Ancestral Plane when they were given their powers. T'Challa visited twice, once more than any Black Panther before him. It was always Asha's assumption that the protector of Wakanda met with the Goddess that gave them those powers during that crucial visit.

"No. No, I didn't. I spoke to Baba, both times. And only Baba. I have never heard of a panther speaking directly to Bast, aside from the first Black Panther of course."

What is so special about me? Asha wondered silently to herself. 

If she was being honest, meeting Bast had not seemed like much of an honor initially to her. But Asha's anger at her was unparalleled, her frustrations having built up for years with no release. It was hard to find joy in a meeting sullied by such pain and anger. 

"So what happened??" Shuri demanded, loudly, tapping Asha on the arm to pull her out of her own head. 

"When I woke up, I thought it was just a dream. I have dreamed about the Planes since I was a child and had not realized it. She showed up. I yelled at her, demanded she let me stay in the Planes," Asha admitted sheepishly, "And then she told me that Wakanda needed me to save its future and the legacy of the Black Panther. That is it. There were a lot of words but she did not offer many tangible actions," Asha added at the end, voicing her frustration at the cryptic messages her goddess gave her. 

"Unless she told you how to make me immortal or gave you new seeds to grow more herbs, I am not sure you or anyone can save the legacy of the Black Panther. The mantle will die when I die." There was a sadness in his eyes that Asha had only seen in her own, an acknowledgement that he would indeed be the last of a centuries-long tradition. "Wakanda's only protector will be gone forever."  

"Perhaps not forever..." M'Baku whispered. Asha could almost see the light bulb in his head going off as he addressed the full group for the first time since they walked in.

Everyone's attention shifted to the Mountain King, eyes wide with skepticism. The same question oscillating in all their minds: What did a Jabari know of the Heart-Shaped Herb?  

"What do you mean?" Asha asked. 

"I have had this reoccurring dream about the heart-shaped herb since I was a child. Except, the herb was on the top of a mountain, covered in ice, in Jabariland. I would try to seize one and panthers would surround them and I would wake up. The same outcome every single time. I believed the dream was my sign to challenge for the throne. But I continued to have the dream after Challenge Day. What if it means something more?"

"I don't see how that can help us, Lord M'Baku," Shuri muttered, rolling her eyes. "Those were just dreams. You all have never found herbs in Jabariland. There are none. We have searched... There are none in the wild in all of Wakanda."

"Yes, we have yet to find herbs in Jabariland, that is true Princess. But we have not searched all of Jabariland. There is a small mountain range on the border of the Land of the Heart-Shaped Herb, land that no Jabari has set foot on in almost a century. Its forest is impenetrable. It is forbidden. Truthfully, I haven't thought about it in years until just now. Last night, King T'Challa said that your priestesses refuse to go to the Hall of Kings because they are attacked by visions and voices, yes? Our scouts used to report the same phenomenon in those mountains. Even the Chosen are not immune."

"You think there are herbs there?" Nakia said? "I don't understand why Bast would put herbs outside of Wakanda?" 

"Technically... she didn't put them outside Wakanda. We did. Old maps of Wakanda show that the land that is now the Land of the Heart-Shaped Herb stretched into the mountains. The Taifa Ngao simply thought the mountain and river's natural fortification made the easiest barriers between the territories, an easy break between the two that would not confuse anyone. But in doing so, part of the forest of herb ended up in Jabari territory. Bast said that she and Hanuman were aligned on many things... maybe it is protecting the last of the Heart-Shaped Herb?"

"This is all speculation. What proof is there to any of this? And how can we find them when the forest drives you to insanity?" 

"You cannot believe these are coincidences? These dreams are real. Think about everything that has happened... Killmonger, reuniting Jabari with Wakanda, Asha meeting with Bast? All of it had to be for a reason. This is the reason. There are herbs in Jabariland and Asha is meant to lead us to them. She is not a Jabari, she is not a Chosen... she is... something else. She may be the only person who can do this." 

Heads turned to Asha as she contemplated everything M'Baku said. She could not deny that the pieces fit together as he described them. If there were herbs left in this world, M'Baku may have just drawn them the road map directly to that garden. They owed it to Wakanda to find out the truth. And he was right… she was something else. She was A Gift. 

"Then we go. We search for it. Today," Asha declared, determination set on her face. 

"Today??" Shuri called out incredulously, laughing lightly at the absurdity of this plan. "You can't be serious? You literally died last night and now you want to go hiking? Are you on drugs??"

"Yes, I must agree with Shuri. Not because I don't believe you may be right. B-but you cannot run off into the forest off M'Baku's word and a hunch, Asha. it is not safe." 

Asha shook her head. "It is not just M'Baku's word... it is Bast's too. She said I was to build last bridges across Wakanda, T'Challa. This is it. This is what she wants me to do. The herb and the Black Panther are what stopped Wakanda from tearing itself apart centuries ago. It is the thread that has held us together for centuries. Without it, we will just tear each other apart again. Bast doesn’t want the Black Panther to die, it would be the end of her people. If the Jabari lead us to the last of the wild herbs and give us the opportunity to cultivate them once more... no Wakandan could ever deny their place in this country again. If a mutant helps us preserve the legacy of the Black Panther, no one would ever question their existence again. They would have to recognize them as Bast intended, as gifts to her people. Brother... you have done what was once thought as unimaginable: bringing mutants back into the light, bringing the Jabari back into Wakanda. The Warrior Shaman went into the wilderness to save Wakanda then. This is how we save Wakanda now." 

T'Challa stared at her intently, processing her words. He knew she was right, knew the puzzle pieces did in fact create this clear picture and path forward. However, he wished she was not the one that had to do it. 

"We need the herb before the King's Challenge tomorrow evening. This is how we will convince the Mining and Border Tribes to maintain their allegiance to the throne. Are you sure you can do this, Asha? It won’t be an easy journey alone." 

"Yes," she answered without hesitation. "And I won't be alone." 

***

The ramp of the Royal Talon thudded softly into the soft ground of a clearing in Jabariland, allowing Asha and M'Baku to descend into the frigid air. They looked like an odd pair, he in traditional Jabari hiking clothes. Asha, who had never done true hiking in her life, was in a borrowed pair of boots, leggings and a light jacket. A freezing Jabari day felt like a nice cool day to her. Both had backpacks filled with supplies and blankets, courtesy of Shuri who had also never hiked but seemed to think it was a week-long affair. 

"Are you sure you want to do this?" She asked M'Baku as they stepped into the soft and undisrupted snow on the ground. The Talon dropped them off at a spot already halfway up the mountain, giving them a head start. Unfortunately, the thick trees would not let them get any higher. 

"Do you want to do this?" he countered, already knowing the answer. "No one wants to walk into a forest filled with magic. But this is my duty. I will nott turn back on it." 

“How do we know that you are immune? From the creepy voices and dreams?” Asha asked, concerned for his mental health. 

“We don’t. I guess we will have to wait and find out.” 

Asha gave him a side glance. The man didn't look scared but there was such silence in him since they got on the plane and certain tension radiated off him that she was not used to. She wondered if this was how he wore fear.. This was certainly a new side of him she was experiencing.

"You said your dreams put the herb at the top of the mountain yes?" 

"Yes, we should get started. It will take us a great deal of time." 

The further they walked, the more Asha understood why people did not come here. Even without the voices and visions, which she was sure would be terrifying to the average Jabari, the trees were so thick and hunched over that they blocked out almost all of the natural sunlight along their path. It seemed as though night had fallen the moment they stepped foot out of the clearing. But so far, M'Baku's theory seemed to hold true. Asha heard nothing except the chitter chatter of forest animals, the swaying of trees, and a mixture of her and M'Baku's breathing. 

Silence followed them easily as they walked for the first stretch, neither needing to stop or fill the space with unnecessary conversation. They just walked upward, toward the garden they knew was waiting for them. Occasionally, Asha threw a glance toward M'Baku, wondering what he was thinking of, wondering if they should use this free time to finally talk. 

"It seems you were chosen in a different way, Lord M'Baku," she mused aloud as he used his knobkerrie to knock low-hanging branches from their path. 

He looked back at her, eyebrows raised in speculation. 

"How do you figure that?" 

She laughed lightly, her childlike laughter filling the quiet forest as they went. "Well, you said this journey drives everyone else insane. Yet here you are... mind clear enough to continue the journey. Why do you think that is?" 

Her question was met with silence but she could practically hear the wheels in his head churning, thinking about her words. 

"Here we are... the only two people in all of Wakanda who could make this journey? You are doing something even T'Challa could not. You are saving the legacy of Wakanda." 

"I don't serve your God though. Bast would not use me as a pawn in her plans." 

She had fallen behind him slightly, his long legs allowing him to take greater strides than her. She sped up and he slowed down slightly so they could walk side by side and better engage in conversation. 

"Bast and Hanuman are not mutually exclusive. They exist together. They are aligned in many ways. She told me so. Who says Hanuman doesn't want to protect the legacy of Wakanda too? If he didn't, why would he have urged you to fight for us against Killmonger or rejoin Wakanda? I don't think this is just Bast's plan... I don't know.I think it is their plan? " 

"You seemed to know a lot about Bast for someone who doesn't pray," M'Baku countered, not to be contentious but trying to understand. He still remembered their hike her first morning in Jabariland... she had said she was done with all that. 

Asha sighed, "I was. But I spoke to her, laid my frustrations and grievances at her feet and she listened, without judgement. She pushed me, challenged the things I always believed. I don't know. I stopped praying because I thought she stopped listening. But she never did, she just knew I was asking for the wrong things." 

Silence fell over them for a while before M'Baku responded, "You truly believe I was chosen for this?" 

A small smile settled on Asha's face. His tone, the look in his eyes was of a child wanting to be told he was good enough... worthy enough. Asha wondered if this was the great juxtaposition of their relationship - both grew up wanting what the other had and neither appreciated what they had. Neither thought they were chosen when their worthiness was so clear and evident in the other’s eyes. In reality, it seems they were destined for this task and perhaps destined for each other.

"Yes. I do. I know you have never felt like it but it is clear to me. Your dreams... your leadership in this tribe. Those are no coincidence. Hanuman and Bast could have chosen anyone to have that dream and wander this mountain and find these herbs. But they chose you. That means something." 

The weather was getting colder, the winds stronger, the higher they walked up the mountain. The loud winds forced their conversation to die off as it howled loudly around them. Even Asha was starting to feel the sharp bite of the cold weather. It was not enough for her to regret her choice of light clothing, her internal furnace just had to do a bit of extra work. 

The sun started to set, stealing the minimal light they had on the path. The darker it got, the more ominous the walk got as well. Not long after, snow started to fall on them, growing heavier by the second. 

"How much farther?" Asha asked quietly. 

"A few hours. But soon we won't be able to see anything with the snow. We should find shelter." 

Asha looked around wildly, incredulously. "Shelter? Where? We are on an uninhabited mountain, M'Baku. Where in Bast's name would we find shelter?"

"I d - sh!" M'Baku quickly silenced her and himself as he heard rustling in the trees by Asha. Asha had little time to think before he pushed her behind him and raised his knobkerrie. 

However, Asha was no damsel in distress, she was a fighter. She moved from behind him and summoned flames around her hands, though they struggled to stay alive due to the cold winds, ready to strike whatever came out of the forest at them. 

They both stared into the black abyss between the trees beside them. First there was nothing, the pair starting to let their guard down. But before they allowed themselves to relax too much, Asha let out a soft gasp. Where there was nothing but black, there were now two amber eyes staring back at them. 

M'Baku raised his weapon higher but Asha lowered hers, allowing the flames to cease and held his arm with her normal hand. She couldn't explain it but she knew this wasn't dangerous. Whatever the creature was, it would not hurt them. She took a step forward despite M'Baku's urgent whispers to not get too close. As she moved with bated breath, a paw emerged from the darkness, giving way to a full-grown panther slowly walking toward her. 

M'Baku stood stunned as Asha dropped to her knee before the Panther. This was a message from Bast... they were on the right track. 

The panther stared at her for a moment before turning and heading back through another set of trees. Asha immediately fell into step behind it. She felt her body tugged back by a strong grip and turned to find M'Baku looking more fearful than she had ever seen him. 

"Panthers can't survive up here. It shouldn’t be up here. What are you doing?" 

"I am following it. You have to trust me, M'Baku. You just have to," she begged him, eyes pleading with him to let her follow this animal. All the senses in her body yearned to go after it for she knew it was leading them exactly where they needed to go. 

M'Baku didn't understand why following a wild panther would help them, unless she desired a trip back to the Planes. But he knew his logical brain was simply trying to overpower the feeling in his gut that agreed with her: the panther knew the way. 

He let go of her arm and nodded, both quickly catching up to the panther who was waiting for them a few paces ahead. They followed it, snow heavily falling and winds whipping their faces for 10 minutes. Asha's resolve never wavered, this panther knew where it was going. 

Sure enough, minutes later, just as M'Baku was cementing his idea to demand they return to the path, the panther stopped in front of the mouth of a cave. It flopped down onto its belly, licking the snow melting on its limbs while Asha and M'Baku walked past it. It was dark and damp but it was shelter, a reprieve from the harsh winds and snow outside. 

They huddled inside, shielded from the winter elements outside. 

"This will do for the night. Do you want to make a fire? I can go get wood," M'Baku offered. 

Asha shook her head, sliding her backpack and sleeping bag she didn't think she would actually need off her shoulders. 

"The sleeping bag is insulated. It heats up according to your body temperature. And I can make heat if we need it. Are you cold?"  

M'Baku shook his head but couldn't hide the obvious judgement that clouded his eyes, knowing exactly what made the sleeping bag operate like that. 

"Sorry, I forgot you all distrust vibranium. I shouldn't have men-" 

He shook his head, silencing her. "It is fine, don't apologize. I suppose I must get used to vibranium if we are going to be a part of Wakanda." 

They both unrolled their sleeping bags next to each other before sliding in. Silence fell over them as they stared at the dark gray, damp walls of the cave, listened to nothing but their own breathing and the soft drops of water dripping onto the floor. 

Asha wondered if he felt it too, the urge to finally talk. She wondered if the spirits haunting this mountain were finally attacking her brain, for she had wanted nothing but to avoid this difficult conversation since she woke up this morning. But this felt like their time, their moment. 

Bast and Hanuman pulling the strings yet again, she thought to herself. 

There were no interruptions, no distractions. They had all night. They were in their element, in the mountains where the rest of the world fell away and they could be the best versions of themselves. 

Another stolen moment? she wondered. But she knew that wasn't it. This was the first interaction that didn't feel stolen, it felt as if it was designed for them... made for them.

Asha felt like so much of the last few weeks were destiny, her love for M'Baku included. Asha was in love with him, she wanted him and would choose him if he was still willing to have her. All signs pointed to that, after all, why else would he go on this journey with her? If this was truly Bast's plan, why waste her opportunity? Suddenly, she had no desire to go another night without being his if that was the path she was on. They... she wasted so much time already fighting for something that she didn't even truly want.

But first, she knew there was something she needed to say, apologize for. She rejected him, for good reasons at the time, but it was rejection nonetheless. And he was still here, still fighting for her and her family without any assurance that she wanted him in return. It was a selflessness she questioned whether she actually deserved. 

"Can I say something?" she inquired, her fear of broaching this subject evident in her voice. Thankfully, without a fire for light, it was pitch black so she knew he couldn't see it. Her question was met with silence but she took that as permission to press forward.

"I-I'm sorry."

He side-eyed her suspiciously in the darkness, not understanding what the woman beside him had to apologize for. 

"I am sorry for choosing him. I thought I had good reasons, thought it was the right choice. At the time, it felt, he felt, like the only choice. Yet, I still pursued something with you, knowing I couldn't choose you. That wasn't fair. I-It was selfish. And I am sorry." 

There was silence for a while. Her anxiety was at an all-time high as she waited with bated breath for him to say something, say anything back to her. She wasn't even sure what she wanted to hear. 

"I want to see you. Like that first night." 

It was a simple request, one that didn't need additional explaining. Asha's small hands curled into tight fists. Unlike that first night where she had little control over her body and her powers, she had grown since then. The flames instantly grew large enough to swirl themselves into a tight ball, vibrant oranges and yellows dancing in an invisible encasing. 

She pushed the ball out and it floated away from her, dancing gracefully through the darkness as it slowly illuminated the cave around them, bathing them in a soft glow. Her hands repeated the motion until the cave was filled with light and heat of her own making, sourced by a dozen balls of fire.

M'Baku stared up at them for a few minutes, just as mesmerized by them and her as he was the first time around. He watched them gently float through the air, their heat warming him in a way his sleeping bag never could. He looked over at her, illuminated by her own magic, looking like the goddess he knew her to be. 

"No it wasn't fair. But I also pursued you when I knew you were taken. That was equally selfish. But I do not want nor will I accept an apology. The path was rugged but it got us here. I wouldn't change it." 

"Except maybe the part where I almost died. I would happily change that," she added. She smiled at the belly laugh M'Baku let out at her words, which echoed throughout their makeshift shelter. His smile and laugh filled her soul in a way no else could ever have. 

"Yes, definitely that part. So the journey got us here. Where is here?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. "I want you. I choose you, I know that much. But everything else... what this means for us, the Jabari, Wakanda? That I don't know." 

"Why does that matter?" 

She shifted to her side, looking at his profile. 

"B-because you are the leader of your tribe, I am the princess of our country. What we do with our lives has greater implications than our happiness. You said it yourself. If our happiness had anything to do with it, we wouldn't be here. It is our duty." 

He shifted to sit up slightly, his hand reaching out to find hers, interlocking their fingers together. 

"Yes. But our lives are still our own. All the other things work out on their own. They should not stop us. They won’t stop me. I want to be with you." 

Asha smiled, "So we are really doing this? You wish to date me? A vibranium-obsessed lowlander?" she teased. 

M'Baku couldn't help but notice something else under her teasing tone, uncertainty. She still needed confirmation that he wanted her. He would give that to her every day for the rest of his days if it helped her. 

He tugged on her arm, beckoning her to join him in his over-sized sleeping bag. She slid in next to him at his prompting, warmth spreading through her in new ways as they laid skin to skin. His knuckle stroked her cheek as he stared at her for a few minutes. 

"Yes. Because I am in love with you, Asha Udaka. I have been since the moment you walked into my throne room and will be until my last breath." 

His rough thumb wiped away the tears that fell down her face. 

"I love you too," she whispered, feeling the weight of holding that in lift off her shoulders. It felt good to say it, even better to feel it freely and openly. Asha had never felt this light before... weighed down by secrets of her powers, of her family, of her love for him. In a few short weeks, she went from being crushed under the sheer weight of it to being free from them all. 

His lips quickly captured hers before she could say another word. It started out gently but soon turned desperate as the couple tried to make up for lost time, tried to cram weeks of subtle touches and looks into this moment. M'Baku quickly shifted his body weight to be on top of her, her legs instantly wrapping around his waist as they kissed. His lips made their way to her neck as his hands roamed the rest of her willing body. She let out a breathy moan as he sucked her neck and his hands massaged her thighs, inching dangerously close to her core. 

Despite her heart literally doing back flips in her body, her logical mind couldn't help but demand she pump the breaks on this lust-filled tryst in the woods. She wanted him... Bast, she wanted him more than she wanted anything in this world. He was her drug and she was officially an addict. But he would be her first and she had heard enough from Nakia and Okoye to know that the first time can come with some unpleasantness among the pleasure. It only took two days in Jabariland to know that this was not his first time. She heard the staff gossip as she moved through the Great Lodge, the Lord of Jabariland knew his way around a woman's body and had many opportunities to practice. She was somewhat embarrassed by her lack of experience compared to him. But she knew enough about him to know, if he knew, he wouldn't judge her. He would just slow things down to put her at ease and ensure she was comfortable. And she wanted that. 

"M'Baku," she breathed, pushing against his shoulders. "M'Baku, wait." It was almost painful to ask him to stop, it went against every natural urge and instinct in her body. 

He immediately stopped, his hand coming to her face to cup her cheek, his eyes instantly apologetic. He took it too far, he knew it. He had just wanted this so bad, yearned for her like no other woman in the world. But after only agreeing to date five minutes prior, he should have known she wanted to take it slow. 

"I-I am sorry, Asha. I lost my head for a minute. That was inapp-" 

She captured his lips, kissing him deeply before sucking his bottom lip and breaking it off. 

"It is not that. I enjoyed it and I want to continue. I-it is just that, I have never been with anyone before. I thought you would want to know before w-we do this." 

M'Baku sighed, the better man in him winning out as her words sunk in. Regardless of how desperately he wanted this, this was not the way. He shifted them so they were both laying on their side again. Asha looked perplexed and slightly put out, taking his abrupt ending as rejection. 

"Why did you stop? I want to." 

"I do too. But your first time... our first time together, should not be in the cold on a hard cave floor. That is not what I want for us. We have waited this long, one more day until we get back to a real bed will not kill us."

Asha sighed, partially with relief that his reasoning was not rejection. 

He chuckled before kissing her on the forehead before she settled on his chest, her own sleeping bag cold and forgotten. 

“Good night, usana. Sleep well,” he whispered. 

And she did, going to sleep truly at peace for the first time in years. 

****

A/N: I mean FINALLY! These two are finally free and ready to stop tiptoeing around each other. We love to see it! Thanks for reading! 

Tag list: @destinio1 @muse-of-mbaku @jellybean531 @skysynclair19 @ashanti-notthesinger @gloriousgam3r @archivistofwakanda @leahnicole1219 @mygirlrenee

[fandom-strumpet]

Lucifer’s Daughter- Chapter 1

Summary: The reader is an undercover hunter in college, and she also has another secret to hide. Her world gets turned upside down when the Winchesters come into town. Will she be able to hold up her facade?

Word Count: 

Warnings: Drinking

Word Count for Chapter 1: 1,577

“Whew. Well I guess that’s a wrap.” 

You chuckled,  wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. You turn to see Ruth smiling back at you, less winded than you, but still tired after the fight. You both sprawl on the damp grass to look at the scene laid before you; two headless bodies, and blood decorating the woodland grass and surrounding trees. 

“I think this calls for drinks, don’t you?”

“I think you need a shower.” Ruth leans over, after licking her thumb, wiping the blood off your forehead that you had smeared there on accident. 

You swipe her hand away playfully.

“Fine. And THEN we get drinks.” 

Ruth shrugged and you took that as a yes. It took you both about 15 minutes to get back to the dorm rooms, which wasn’t bad time considering clean-up. You had to cover your tracks well if you wanted to stay in one place, one college, for a while. Stripping down in the bathroom felt so good, the steam from the shower already curling in the air. Mmmmmm. You hummed, lifting the shower curtain slightly to the side with one arm while one leg slowly dipped in to test the waters. Perfect. You loved your showers steaming hot. Sighing in content you fully walk in, the familiar clink of the shower curtain sliding back into place sent you to a happy place. Picking up your favorite strawberry body wash, you apply a generous amount to your body, cleansing yourself of blood and stink. The suds always looked so pleasing to you for some reason and in no time you were out of the shower, towel wrapped around you. 

“Hey Ruth? Should it be a sexy dress or shorts tonight? I’m feeling like showing some skin.”

Ruth gave a thoughtful look and nodded toward the shorts you were holding up. 

“Good choice. I’ll even wear this new flannel I got.” You couldn’t resist giving a little squeal of excitement with a stupid dance to get Ruth to smile.

“Girls night out it is,Y/N.”

“Damn right. We deserve this!”

About 30 minutes later, you pulled up to the bar most commonly visited by college students. You’re hopping out of your ‘69 red Mustang when you spy a nice looking ‘67 Chevy parked a few spaces down. 

“Wwhhooooo” you whistle, unable to keep from staring at the beauty, almost drooling a little before catching yourself as Ruth cleared her throat. 

“So are we going to get drinks?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry Ruth.”

The smell of alcohol poisoning and peanuts hits you with a wave of comfort as you enter the bar. Out of habit, you and Ruth head over to the bar, flashing a smile and ID.

“I’ll have the zombie smash cocktail” you say winking at the bartender.

“I second that” Ruth chimed in.

“Sure thing.” He replies with a smirk. 

You always ordered the same drink on nights you celebrated a victory. 

“Wow Ruth, really putting yourself out there tonight aren’t ya?” You give her a sly grin and raise your eyebrows playfully.

“Well, as you said Y/N, we deserve it. Girls night.”

The bartender slides the two drinks toward you. Grabbing it, you turn and take a slow, deep drink while scanning the crowded room for anyone standing out. Your eyes freeze upon spotting a quite handsome, badass looking biker guy with a leather jacket on and immaculate hair. Almost like a princess. You give an amused huh before looking past him to see a very large man in plaid, looking pretty serious for being at a college bar. The shorter one seems to be having a good time though, and suddenly he turns, making eye contact with you and holding it as a fox like smile spread across his face. You nudge Ruth in the side to get her looking at what you’re seeing. 

“Hey Ruth, look at these two sexy fellas.” 

The two men had started to come over to where you and Ruth were standing. The shorter one spoke first.

“Hey, mind if we buy you two a drink?”

“Not at all and how about some fries?” You reply, matching his side smile and coy look. 

“My name is Dean and this is my brother Sam.” 

“Nice to meet you Sam and Dean.” Ruth speaks up, “My name is Ruth.”

“-And I’m Y/N.”

Dean lifts a finger to signal the bartender over, who nods. 

“We’ll get some tequila shots and a basket of fries for us and the lovely ladies.” He winks at you.

You humorously roll your eyes and feel your face flush. That first drink must be kicking in already. 

“Are you guys college students here?”

“No, just passing through. We’re here visiting an old friend.” Dean replies.

God, he has an amazing gruff voice that just puts you on edge. You had heard plenty of gruff voices before at the bar but not like this. No. His forest green eyes twinkled with mischief and already you could feel yourself falling into them. Especially as your eyes wandered down to his pink plump lips. Mmmmmm. 

“What about you?” 

Your mind snaps back to attention upon his question.

“Ruth and I are both juniors at Haverford College, we’re actually roommates.”

“Tonight is our celebrating night.” Ruth beams.

Sam inquires, “What are you celebrating?”

“Oh you know, passing midterms and stuff.” 

You shrug with a smile, a silent and stuff reverberating in your mind. 

“Congratulations” Sam and Dean chime heartily. 

“Thank you! Hey Ruth, why don’t you take Sam and show him the tricks to the pool table?” 

You elbow her in the side hard enough to where she can feel it but it doesn’t show.

“Sure! Sam come with me.” She winked cheesily, and it made you inwardly groan. God she is never going to get laid is she? 

You toss your head back, taking down the shot, exhaling as the back of your throat stings. Dean follows your lead and takes his, and then proceeds to signal the bartender for another one. 

“Aside from being sexy, what do you do for a living?”

“I do the baking at the local diner.”

You two talked for a good hour, both of you becoming increasingly drunk/ tipsy. You couldn’t help letting your giggly side spill out. Some badass hunter I am. 

“Dance with me.”

“Sure thing sweetheart.” 

You lead him out onto the dance floor, you move his large coarse hands down to your waist, onto the bare skin where your top didn’t cover under the flannel. You start to sway while moving your hands up his arms, taking in every muscle and warmth. When at last you reached his bulky shoulders, you let your arms rest there. Dean tilts his head forward to where both your foreheads are touching. 

“Mmmmmm you smell amazing- like strawberries” He said, inhaling deeply. 

You love the way his stubble felt against your skin, you could let your hands wander all over him, and let him explore your body as well. You could feel your cheeks flush with the thought.

“What do you say we take this someplace else?” 

Dean touched your wrist with his fingertips, letting them slide up and you enjoyed the feeling. It sent chills up your spine and you let an audible giggle escape. 

All of a sudden, you hear Ruth say loudly,

“Are you religious? Because you are the answer to all of my prayers.”

You roll your eyes. Ruth has got to up her game. 

“However much of a handsome devil you are, I’ll have to take a rain check for another night.” You had slowly inched closer to him as you were talking, your lips just inches from each other. You could feel his warm breath, smell the pine, woodsy, manly essence of him. You let your hands wander on his shoulders,

“Perhaps another night?”

“Sorry little lady, but its a limited time offer only.”

“Don’t be afraid to drop by if you get the chance.” You grinned at him, looking deep into eyes. 

You go over to the nearest table, grab a napkin and steal a pen from the passing waitress. You wrote the best you could in your tipsy state, your handwriting looking like a doctor’s note. 

“Here, it’s my address.”

Biting your bottom lip, you held eye contact while slipping the piece of paper in his flannel’s front pocket as sexily as possible. You hear Ruth giggle and  you look toward she and Sam starting to wander over to where the two of you are swaying.

“I take this is my cue to go. Don’t be a stranger Dean, stop by sometime.”

You stand onto your tiptoes and plant a sweet kiss on his cheek. As you pull away, a smile bloomed across both of your faces. Ruth’s presence behind you let you know it was time to go. 

“Goodnight Dean. Goodnight Sam.”

As you and Ruth started to walk out of the doorway, you gave one last longing look backwards to see the two brothers smiling at you and her, saying goodbye. Ruth’s arm entwined with yours led you to the car, and within moments you had passed out in the passenger seat with her driving you home. You awoke to Ruth nudging you out of the car, towards the entrance of the dormitory. 

“Best girl’s night out ever.” You managed to slur groggily. 

You let her lead you all the way up to bed, even going as far as to letting her help you change into your favorite pjs. 

“There. Now you’re all tucked in.” 

“You’re the best, Ruth.” You managed to mumble before passing out.

Ruth gave a chuckle, “Thank you for the compliment Y/N. Goodnight.”

Intro        Chapter 2  

[ari-shipping-stuff]

Monochrome Week 2020

Day Five - High School AU

———

@monochromeweek

sequel to day three's fake dating au

———

Weiss couldn't get it out of her head.

It made her breathless. Light. Dreamy. She couldn't see clearly.

When she slept. Whenever she closed her eyes. The she was.

Blake, staring at her with that curious little head tilt she did. And her catlike amber eyes glowing under the orange lights.

In the place of every sound, it was still her. That one simple word. Her voice like velvet. Echoing relentlessly in her head.

And her hand. Held in hers. That's what had her the most. Their hands. Fingers intertwined. Staying that way for what Weiss wanted to be forever.

They never did let go last night. Not until the very last minute when Blake brought her home. And just before she left, she turned back. Another moment Weiss wished would last forever.

Blake had smiled ever so slightly. Easy to miss. But Weiss did see. Explosions might've gone off around her, but she could only see her smile. That smile that filled her with such an overwhelming, beautifully unfamiliar feeling that made her want to climb up a mountain and sing at the top of her lungs. To smile like there was no tomorrow. To steal every star from the sky. To conquer the world and give it all to Blake.

Weiss had all that to say as she drifted into space in the following day's English lecture. That.. And another thing.

Fuck.

She was not supposed to feel like this. What the hell did I do? What would Blake do?

Weiss was restless for the whole day, incessantly tapping her feet and answering questions only because she was annoyed that said questions were breaking her train of thought and she couldn't think straight at all.

As soon as the last bell rang, Weiss was ready to run out and curl up in bed forever.

Unfortunately, certain nosy people have other ideas.

Ruby, curse her track team legs, ran up to Weiss from behind, pouncing on her to prevent her escape. Though it did backfire (not that Ruby cared), causing them both to fall over.

"What are you doing, you dolt!?" Weiss screeched.

"Sorry!" Ruby giggled, not sorry in the slightest. She let go, rolling over and helping Weiss back up. "You didn't answer our messages last night!"

Weiss brushed off herself, groaning at the sight of her other friends' grinning idiot faces.

"Do you people ever stop?"

"Unfortunately not." replied Ren.

Weiss shook her head, sighing. "I used to think you were a sensible person.

"Now what do you dolts want?"

"We saw you leave the party!" said Nora.

"Early." Yang added, grinning. "Again."

"We went home." Weiss deadpanned. "Can I go?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Not a chance."

Ruby only shrugged. "Sorry, Weiss. This is a democracy."

"Democracy." Weiss rolled her eyes, leaning against a locker. She pouted, looking away from Ruby, who was trying to pull off her typical five-year-old pleading face.

Weiss kept running through thoughts about how all of this should be kept private. Whatever she and Blake did was absolutely none of their business. But then it struck her again— no. It didn't. They were not in a real relationship. Every juicy detail of their fake relationship needed to be widespread.

Oh, how confused she'd become. It was almost laughable. Level-headed Weiss Schnee couldn't discern which parts of her and Blake's relationship were real or not. Was the relationship real? It couldn't be. Yet it certainly felt real last night.

"Weiss?" Ruby called out, pulling Weiss back to reality.

"We went out to eat."

The group leaned towards Weiss expectantly, like puppies waiting to be fed. She only rolled her eyes in response.

"That's it. That's all you're getting."

Nora jabbed an accusing finger at Weiss.

"So there was more!" she yelled.

"No." Weiss snapped. "There was not. Leave me alone."

Someone cleared their throat.

All heads turned to see Blake. She had a hand on her hip and an eyebrow raised. Her eyes landed on Weiss.

'What are you doing here?' Weiss mouthed.

Blake snorted, walking up next to her. She snaked an arm around the shorter girl's waist, smiling casually at the rest of the group.

"Can you guys back up a bit? My girlfriend needs some space to breathe, you know."

"Girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend?" 

Blake rolled her eyes amusedly, tightening her grip around Weiss's waist.

"Yes. Girlfriend." she said. "Now if you'll excuse us, I'm supposed to walk her home."

"Don't worry about it then!" Yang grinned, winking supportively at her best friend. "Make sure she gets there safely, Kitty Cat."

Blake snorted, waving. "Yeah, I will. See you soon."

From there, Blake began to steer the dumbfounded, red-faced Weiss out of the building.

"Got everything you needed?" Blake asked casually.

"What was that?" Weiss hissed. "Girlfriend?"

An intense red crept up Blake's cheeks, as if waking up from a daydream. She pulled back her arm. A cold nothing grew on the small of Weiss's back. They both looked away.

"Sorry." Blake mumbled. "Did.. Did I make you uncomfortable?"

Weiss sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"W-Well, yes, a bit. But nevermind that. Technically, that was a good move. Get this scheme moving along faster."

"O-Oh." Weiss didn't catch the twinge of hurt in Blake's tone, her own mind spinning.

"But next time warn me before you get all forward like that!" Weiss exclaimed. Then she stopped in her tracks, grimacing.

Blake watched her worriedly.

"Weiss? What's wrong?"

Weiss switched positions with Blake, so that she was on their left, as if she was hiding.

"Be discrete. He's there."

Blake searched around the parking lot as they walked. But the ridiculous amount of gel on Henry Marigold's hair was hard to miss.

Weiss instinctively linked her arm with Blake's, turning them to pass along the other side.

"Weiss!"

Drat.

Weiss twitched, wanting nothing more than to bash Henry's head against a rock and hope he never wakes up.

Then Blake pulled back her arm, placing her hand on hers. In a laughable moment of deja vu, Weiss pushed her fingers forward, intertwining their fingers.

She looked up at Blake, chills running down her spine.

'I'm here.' Blake mouthed.

"Weiss!"

Reluctantly, Weiss tore her gaze away from Blake's. Henry was running towards them, completely abandoning the band of cheerleaders near his car.

He stopped, not so smoothly, in front of the two, a wide smirk on his face.

"Weiss Schnee." he drawled, leaning on his arm against the hood of a stranger's car.

"Henry."

He glanced at Blake. He pointed at her, his finger orbiting an imaginary circle.

"Isn't.. She that girl who lived in a box?"

Just as Blake was opening her mouth, Weiss cut in.

"Blake." she snapped. "Her name is Blake."

"Right.. Didn't she transfer last year?" he eyed their hands with a raised eyebrow. "What's she doing here?"

"She came to bring me home, Henry." Weiss's grip on Blake's hand tightened. She tugged ever so slightly, ready to leave. "Now if you'll excuse us—"

"No, no, baby—"

"Baby?"

"—I was waiting by my car for you the whole time!" he exclaimed, squaring his shoulders. He ran a finger through his hair, stepping forward towards Weiss. "Thought we could talk. Y'know.. Some.. Stuff."

He was playing attention to Blake, Weiss noted. He wasn't nonchalant about her presence like he was with everyone else. He almost looked..

"Worried, Henry?" Weiss asked.

"What?"

Weiss looked him up and down, a slow, giddy smirk creeping to her lips.

He saw the pictures.

She relaxed, smiling politely. Though after that sly expression she pulled earlier, Henry had to admit it looked almost eerie now.

"Sorry, Henry." she grinned, placing a hand on Blake's arm. "I don't think my girlfriend would rest so easy if you brought me home. Especially after walking all the way from her school."

"Girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend?"

Henry was too dumbfounded to notice Blake's expression. But he frowned, his mood turning bitter rather fast. He tugged the collars on his rust-colored jacket.

"Didn't take you for a dyke, Schnee." he sneered. "What a waste."

Blake stepped in front of him. She was stiff. Somewhat calm. But her seething amber eyes told another story.

"Take that back. And walk away."

"Or what?"

He glared at Blake, leaning forward to make himself seem much taller.

Weiss could feel the chill in Blake's hand. It turned cold with icy fear. But Blake let go, curling her hands into fists around Henry's collar. She pulled him towards her harshly.

"Or I'll make you." she growled.

Weiss placed a hand on Blake's shoulder.

"Blake." she said softly.

After what looked like reluctance, Blake pushed Henry away.

He ran and never looked back, once again ignoring the cheerleaders near his car.

Blake glared after him until he was out of view. Until she felt Weiss's fingers lace between hers. She sighed, turning to Weiss with an apologetic look.

Weiss smiled, shrugging.

"At least, he won't be bothering us anymore, huh?"

"Was I that bad?" Blake winced.

Without thinking, Weiss tucked a loose strand of hair behind Blake's ear, blushing once she realized what she was doing. But she played it off easily.

"I wouldn't call it bad."

"Adam.." Blake sighed. "He used to do that thing. Lean forward. Intimidate me. Make me feel small."

"Blake.."

Blake laughed, gently brushing her fingers along Weiss's cheeks.

"It felt good to stand up to someone for a change."

Weiss laughed.

"Yeah, it did."

———

i'll sequel this too lmao. that'll be the last one, i swear

— ari

———

part one | part two | part three | part four

[thewritingamateur]

🎁🔨 🖕 please and thank you!!

Thanks so much for the prompt! I had so much fun writing this and honestly, I might make a part two just to conclude what happens next! Hope you enjoy :)

Versace on the Floor (MCD Modern AU)

~~~

"Hayes, my boy! We did good tonight!" 

Champagne glasses clinked together in the room full of suited men. The business deal went well. Hayes Enterprise now had global domination. It was something only the business wits of Levi 'Walker' Hayes was capable of. 

His sleeves were rolled up, suit jacket thrown to the side as he drank his bubbly. It was a hard couple of months coming up with the best deal for his company and their Asian conglomerate. It was all for the better, though. He became close to the CEO of their business partner Nam Jung-woo, often having dinners and discussing topics of similar interest. 

Needless to say, they've become chummy in their time together. 

They were in a cocktail lounge, the renowned and revered King Cole Bar at the St.Regis hotel. It upheld the sophistication of the past hundred years while having a modern edge within the walls. Behind the men sitting on the barstools was the grand mural of King Cole bringing remembrance of the grand king from the old rhymes. 

Like the merry soul, they were smoking cigars in victory. 

After some cheer, there was silence as they downed the champagne. The only sound was the soft voice of a woman singing on the other side of the lounge.

Rolling his neck, Hayes was glad to finish with the tedious business deal. Now he could take the weekend off for himself. You can never really stop working for a day as a CEO, but at least he would be able to breathe and do whatever he wanted for a couple of hours. 

And boy, did he have some ideas in mind. 

He watched his shorter but equally as handsome business partner take a smoke, blowing out rings. 

"You know, I'll miss working with you, Hayes. You're cutthroat and know what you want. I need more men like you in my circle." 

The taller man smirked, taking a smoke of his own, "Likewise Nam. Let's hope we have more business dealings in the future." It was bound to happen. If Hayes Enterprise was going to hold into its top spot without question, he had to stick with Jung-woo. 

"Maybe you can come down to Korea, and I'll show you the amenities we have to offer. For now, though, I have other ways of showing you a token of my gratitude." 

Thick brows knitted together in confusion, watching his friend walk out of the room for a moment. His ears perked, hearing the pretty voice from the dark corner of the room, but he couldn't see the woman's face. 

The melody was light in her voice, soft and sweet, parallel to the ambiance of the room. 

By giving me all you got

Your love has captured me

Lost in the sweet words, Hayes didn't take notice of his friend's reentrance, with some special guests. 

Before him, thirty women of all creeds and shapes lined up. Blue eyes watched all the women dressed up in sexy lace lingerie. He feasted on the display before him. 

"As a gift, my friend, I am offering you any woman you see here before you now. You can do like you to her, whether that would be just for the night or for as long as you like. Please, take your pick." 

Walker gave slow steps assessing all the women before him. They all gave sultry eyes, some touching him as an act of enticement. It seemed that all were willing to bend to his will. 

Even if they had no clue what that would be. 

His lips stretched in a sly smirk seeing the enticing curves of each woman. They were all tempting in their own right, but none good enough to fulfill the desires he had. 

By the end of the line, he shared a smug look with Jung-woo before his ears tuning in to the sweet melody once again. 

Needing you more and more 

Let's give love a try

Hypnotized by the voice, he walked towards the dark corner where the band players were. 

With the snap of his fingers, the light shone brightly over the band. A dainty hand rose to cover the unknown face of the singer. 

Her skin was pale, creamy in tone. The lace and silk dress clung onto her slim yet shapely form, small shoulders exposed for his viewing. 

Dark hair was up in a messy low bun. Wispy bangs flew on her face. When her hand went down, he saw her dark eyes, an abyss of wonder shining forth. Her petite nose was up.  Supple lips painted red. 

Her eyes weren't on him, and his blood boiled. All the other females in the room were still staring him down, all willing to give him the attention a woman ought to give a man, to show their sexual prowess ready to bend to his command. 

Thick fingers went to rub his lips, staring the girl down before she finally acknowledged his presence. 

Who was she to not take notice of him? 

Her pretty eyes only looked at him for a moment, like he was just another person in the room for her to sing to. 

"Her." 

"What?" His friend came towards him, eventually also watching the girl before them. 

"I want her." 

The nervous laugh from the shorter man was not what was needed. "Well, Hayes, I meant from the women we provided over there. She-she's just a singer that was hired." 

Gritting his teeth, he turned to his business partner, "You said I could have any woman I want, to do as I please with." He pointed towards the girl, "I want her." 

Amid his command, the girl stopped singing. He was close enough for her to hear, and now there was fear running through her blood. The band also stopped playing for the moment. 

Jung-woo sighed. He gave a brief gaze towards the girl on the stage. His father warned him about Walker Hayes. He's a man who gets what he wants, regardless of the methods to obtain it. 

Without much choice, he nodded. "Alright, just give me a minute." 

He rounded up the other women to leave the room, pulling the small woman from the stage along with him. 

Walker was conversing with the other men for a while, waiting for his prize. 

He didn't receive it until the end of the night. 

With everyone long gone, he went to his floor with a pissed mindset. Did his friend break his word? 

Tapping his foot impatiently, he watched as two figures walked towards his room. Mr. Nam was dragging the girl down the hall. 

She was feisty. 

Perfect. 

Her eyes were full of anger watching his friend with hateful eyes. Lips twisted in a frown as she tried to pull out of the grip. 

"As promised, here she is." She was thrown to the larger form of Walker Hayes, the famous businessman who was awarded Entrepreneur of the Year by Forbes magazine only a month prior. 

He held onto her tightly by the waist, not giving her the ability to make a fast run for it. Fear made a home in the pit of her stomach as the famed businessman's nose dove into her hair, taking in the scent of her strawberry shampoo. 

Fingers bit into her waist. 

"It's time to take my leave. I'll see you soon, Hayes." The two men shared a firm handshake before the shorter man left. 

He pulled her into the grand hotel room, decorated with modern furniture within the spacious area. There were dark blue undertones against the gold. The night expanded along the big glass windows giving a full view of the nightlife in the city. 

The young girl was still donned in her outfit, the slinky silk she borrowed from her friend. 

Her eyes watched as he locked the door, starting to pull his tie off as his eyes dance on her form. Legs tremble in the tall heels, her ankle twisting as she tried to walk backward. She wasn't used to this get-up. 

Lust filled his dark blue gaze seeing the terror in her doll eyes. 

"P-please. I don't know what this is, but this is a mistake. I-I'm not what you think I am."

A mirthless laugh escaped him, "That's what you all say. Always trying to be coy and innocent until it's time to get down to it." 

"No, I am not a whore." Tears rolled down her soft cheeks as she kept walking back, and he never failed to move forward. 

Jenny was only covering for a friend that night. She needed the money, and a night as the St.Regis Hotel was bound to give her a good payday. That, and nothing else. 

She should've known it was too good to be true. She knew his eyes were on her from earlier in the night, no doubt like the sound of her voice. She thought she was free after seeing the women before him earlier. 

Why did he choose her in the end? 

Her back hit the wall, and he crushed her with his large frame. Thick fingers went to her slim throat, encircling it with a mild grip. 

"Methinks the lady doth protests too much." 

She didn't look him in the eyes, but her voice was still strong. "That's wrong." 

"What?" 

With a little courage on her side, she responded, "The line is, 'The lady doth protests too much, methinks'. What you said is wrong." 

She gasps, feeling his fingers tighten around her throat, looking into his angry eyes. 

"What are you, a smartass? Don't try to get one over me, you stupid bitch." 

Strong arms flung her to the floor. She struggled to catch her breath. 

She crawled away on her knees, wanting nothing more than to leave with her dignity intact. 

"Where are you going?" He pulled her back from the hair, her bun becoming loose. Long hair tumbled over her shoulders, a cry escaped her lips. 

He pulled her backward, back hitting the floor as he climbed on top of her. Her chest moved in hasty breaths as he pulled her arms above her head, holding both of her small wrists in one of his hands. 

"Let go!" She struggled to move, fighting against him as he tried to keep her legs down. 

The slap echoing in the room was enough to put her in a momentary daze. Her cheek became red. The hit was hard enough to cause a bruise. 

Using his silk tie, Walker tied her hands together behind her back. Tears decorated her cheeks. Her smudged lips trembled from his heavy gaze. 

Maybe they needed to slow down for a moment. He pulled her up and pushed her to the bedroom. She fell on the large, plush bed only a few could afford. 

"What's your name?" Her brows creased, wondering why he suddenly wanted to know, but the impatient look on his face gave her little time to wonder. 

"Jenny. Jenny Lee." 

"Well, Jenny- pretty name- who are you? Not every prostitute knows Shakespeare off the top of their head." 

"As I said, I'm not a whore." 

"Let me be the judge of that." His arms crossed to show off his biceps, standing above her with his shadow overcasting her. 

"I'm a college student, an English major. Knowing Shakespeare is a given for that field. I'm only here covering for a friend. She's the one usually singing." 

She watched his unknown expression, knowing there's a possibility he wouldn't believe her. 

Walker watched the big eyes of the girl before him, innocence radiating off her. He knew she was telling the truth. She was too scared to lie to him. 

A woman of class, how nice. 

He watched the dip of hidden cleavage rising under her dress, the blood rushing down him from the thoughts of taking her right in the room. 

"Please, let me go. I won't tell anyone what happened, I promise. I don't want your money. I  want to go home." 

Sobs filled the room as he watched her turmoil. 

Did she detest him so much that she wanted to leave without asking for compensation? Did she want to forget him so quickly, the most sought out bachelor of the past five years? 

He moved on top of her, strong hands-on ether side of her small form. She watched his cruel eyes fill with amusement. 

"That's the thing, Miss Lee. You're mine now. My friend promised me any woman I wanted in that room, and here you are. Now, be a good girl and don't fight too much." 

His fingers danced on her collarbone, eliciting a gasp from her pretty lips. 

As a last attempt, Jenny did something she never expected herself to do. 

Her mouth moved before she had time to think it through.

Another slap was on her face as he wiped the spit off his face. How dare she? 

Her fighting him started to become a bit tiring. 

Angry and filled up with all the stress that burdened him for months, he finally let it all go. 

Cries were heard throughout the large suite as his fists went down on her. 

Strikes were on her face, her stomach, and her chest. She gasped for air as she knocked the wind out of her. Her heels broke as he slammed her to the floor again, this time kicking her down with his leather shoes.  

"Stop!" The was the only word leaving her lips for minutes straight, each time becoming a bit more straggled than the last. Blood flooded out of her lips. Her left eye started to form a dark bruise when he punched her face. 

"You stupid bitch." A punch for every word. His kicks were hard, stepping on her at one point to show his authority. 

Her body battered, she did not fight when he decided to pick up her limp body, pulling her through to the main room and slamming her onto the glass window. 

"Why don't we give someone a show?" His strong fingers pulled her dress off like a piece of paper. Next was her lace bra and panties. Her body was pressed onto the glass, open for the viewing of many below them. 

He pulled off his shirt, rushing to take off his pants as his body burned for the release he desperately needed. 

She gave a strangled gasp as he forcefully entered her dry walls, ripping her apart. He pulled her tied up arms above her head as he wrapped her legs around him, hips meeting in harsh thrusts. 

Walker eventually let her arms free, knowing she wouldn't fight him anymore. 

Her hands wrapped around his broad shoulders, scared to fall in his fast pace. 

No thoughts came to her mind as he had his rough ministrations. 

Her body violated, blood mixing with his fluid. 

Jenny cried into his shoulders, salty tears mingling with sweat. 

"Don't cry. I know you like it." His hands encircled her small waist as he went slower, drawing out the ordeal. 

He made sure she released before he did, her legs quaking as she rode off her high. Walker soon came after, his seed overflowing outside her small hole. 

But it wasn't over, far from it. 

By morning, she was sore and out of it. With the bruises all over her body and the energy taken from her, Jenny was tired. Her eyes closed before dawn, and she woke up to the fragrance of scrumptious foods.  

Her eye still swollen, she struggled to open them as she saw Walker Hayes's tall body with a plate of food in front of her. 

"I thought it would be best to order some breakfast. You'll need the energy again for later."  Her gut reeled at the thoughts of what he had in store for her. 

She was hungry, and it did smell good. 

Digging in, she didn't take notice of his stare as she scarfed the food. 

"For someone so small, you have quite the appetite." His hand went towards her face. 

Out of instinct, she pulled back, but he only wanted to remove a piece of food hanging on the corner of her lips, eating it instead. 

Her cheeks turned red from the intimate action. 

Swallowing her food, she started back with her pleads. 

"Please, Mr.Hayes. I-I need to go home now." 

He frowned at her words. 

"Did you learn nothing last night? You belong to me now. Wherever I am will be your new home." 

He got up, still naked from the previous night's excursions, retrieving an object from the desk draw. 

Her pale skin turned paperwhite, seeing what it was. 

A leather choker with an emerald gem hanging in the middle. 

Her fingers were quick to hide whatever was at hand. 

Walker hooked the necklace on her slim throat, satisfied with the look. 

Small fingers turned the gem around. 

Property of W.Hayes

Tears fell, seeing what he said was finally coming to pass. 

She belonged to him. 

He kissed the side of her jaw, moving toward her lips. They were warm on hers, using teeth to bit down on her supple lips. 

Hands were quick to grope her breasts, tugging on her as his lips moved down to her neck, marking his territory. 

At the moment, he was lost in her body. 

Now was her time to strike.

Using full force, she pulled the knife from under her and aimed it at his face. 

A pained grunt escaped him, his hand covering his face in pain. 

He had no time to stop her from running, mind on the profuse amount of blood on his hands. He couldn't see out of his left eye. His lips were ripped open. 

All Walker saw was her naked body running. 

Jenny picked up the remainder of her clothes, nothing salvageable. Panicked, she picked up his discarded shirt and pulled it on. She didn't care if people saw her running out like this. 

Her focus was to escape, to run back to her home. 

"Get back here!" She heard his footsteps coming towards her, but she was out the door. 

She ran towards her freedom beyond the lavish walls of the hotel. 

Beyond the clutches of the man, she didn't realize became infatuated with her. 

Walker fell on the floor, the pain on his face overtaking him. He went towards the hotel phone, calling an emergency and his assistant. 

Even in his pain, there was one thing he knew for sure. 

He was going to get her back. It wasn't the end for Jenny Lee just yet. 

That, he promised. 

[asofterfan]

Winter Winds

Chapter 8: Bleeding Out

Previous ~ Next

Summary: Remy wakes up, and freaks out, and lashes out, and runs away because of course he does.

Warnings: None I think

Remy wakes up slowly, disoriented by a mix of familiar and unfamiliar sensations. The pounding in his skull is practically an old friend. The ache in his muscles, the layer of dried sweat and body paint and makeup on his skin, the dryness of his mouth- none of it is out of place for him. But the softness beneath him is nothing like his beat up mattress. The sheets feel smoother than the threadbare set he’s had since he moved.

And there are arms around him.

His eyes shoot open, body jerking in shock, blinking rapidly and taking deep breaths as he tries to slow his heart rate and take in his surroundings. A light breath ghosts over the top of his head, and Remy realizes that he is curled up against someone’s chest, their chin resting against the top of his head as muscular arms hold him loosely. Remy’s eyes catch a tattoo of a black cat in front of a moon. It’s a tattoo he recognizes, and everything from the night before comes rushing back.

October had held him all night long.

It was becoming a little harder to take deep breaths. Fuck. Fuck, Remy couldn’t do this. He thought he could, but he really, really couldn’t. Slowly, carefully, he slid out of Toby’s arms. The shorter man shifted slightly, but otherwise remained deep in sleep. Once he was free, Remy backed away quickly. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t be someone else, he couldn’t be himself, he couldn’t stand around and be tossed aside again, nope, fuck that, he was out, kthxbye.

His head was still pounding, but he ignored it as he searched for his boots, finding them tossed a bit aways from the bed. Grabbing them, he threw them on as quickly and quietly as possible, keeping one eye on Toby to ensure he stayed asleep. The man’s face was relaxed and peaceful, sighing softly as he buried his face a little deeper in his pillow. Remy swallowed thickly, silently cursing the part of himself that wanted nothing more but to crawl back into the others’ arms, to feel safe and secure and warm.

Tangled, dirty hair fell into Remy’s eyes, and he couldn’t even find a hair tie to pull it back. God, he was stupid to think he could even fake being someone that deserved to be here.

Whatever. He was the loner, too cool for friends, with skin as strong as steel. That’s who he was and that was who he was going to be.

Running his fingers roughly through his hair in an attempt to get it out of the way, he took one more glance around the bedroom, briefly taking in the Christmas lights hanging around the ceiling, the overflowing bookshelf, and the desk covered in papers with a laptop charging in the corner. But he didn’t see his jacket anywhere, so he didn’t waste anymore time standing around.

Tip-toeing out of the bedroom, leaving the door half closed behind him, Remy entered what was obviously the living room. The walls held posters of classic horror films, and framed photos of Toby with Talyn and a man he didn’t recognize, as well as several of them with two women who Remy assumed were his moms. The room was maybe slightly cluttered, but clean, and cozy. He saw his jacket draped across the couch in the middle of the room. Directly across from him looked like an entryway to the kitchen, and on the wall to the right he could see the front door. Quickly grabbing his jacket, he checked to make sure his phone, wallet, and keys were in the pockets. They’re all there, and he knows he’s forgetting something, but he can’t figure out what it is and he needs to get out of here, right now, so he clutches his jacket to his chest and moves towards the front door.

“Mmmrew?”

Remy nearly shrieked, spinning around to find the source of the noise. His head whipped around, abruptly reminding him of the terrible headache still present, and searched the room until his gaze finally landed on the floor next to the couch, where a black cat was looking up at him curiously.

Sighing in relief, Remy laughed lightly. He vaguely recalled Toby mentioning a cat before, he thinks. Shrugging to himself, he turned back towards the door.

“MmmmEOW!”

Jumping, Remy spun back around, eyes widening at the cat’s loud cry, “Shhhhhh, shush, shoo, hush!” He whispered frantically, trying to wave the cat away, but it only padded slowly closer, crying even louder.

“MREOOOOW!”

“Shhhhhhhh!”

“Meow?”

This time Remy did shriek softly, flinching to the side as a second cat appeared in the kitchen doorway. This one was orange, with bright green eyes, and trotted over much quicker than the first cat, coming to stand barely a foot away from Remy’s feet.

“MEEEEW!”

“MROW!”

“Could you please use your indoor meows?? I thought cats were supposed to be quiet pets!” Remy whispered furiously. Jesus, he needed to get out of here. Giving up on attempting to quiet the animals, he turned around, ready to bolt out the door.

But before he could take more than a single step, a black blur darted between his legs, sending him stumbling forward, barely catching his balance as he grabbed at the table next to the couch, sending a pile of magazines crashing to the floor.

“MEOWWWW!”

Glancing up, Remy saw the black cat staring at him. He was just about to curse the creature out when a second black cat- the first black cat?- came to stand beside it, making Remy do a double take. Turning his head, he saw the orange cat darting up behind him, coming to curl around his legs.

“Motherfuckers-” Remy tried to step over the cats, all of them crying at him loudly. The orange one stayed right by his feet, one of the black ones tried to bite at his shoelaces, while the third cat stood behind them, crying like the world was ending.

Everything was too loud. Everything was too loud and too close and he just wanted to leave but the damn cats kept tripping him up and if he wasn’t quick then October was going to-

“Jesus Christ, Rem, what the fuck are you doing to my cats?”

-wake up.

For a moment, Remy felt his entire body tense up. But he quickly recovered enough to turn and glare at the other man, “Me? I’m not doing anything! If anything, I’m the one being attacked!” He gestured at the cats, one happily chewing on his shoes while another rubbed against his legs.

Toby smiled, shaking his head fondly as the third cat jumped up on the back of the couch so Toby could scratch behind its ears. His hair was a disheveled mess, makeup smeared around his eyes from the night before, wearing just a wrinkled shirt and boxers.

Rubbing at his face tiredly, he looked back up at Remy, “What are you doing up, anyway? It’s like six in the morning.”

“Nothing,” Remy replied immediately. Toby raised an eyebrow at him, and Remy tried to wave him off, “Seriously, nothing, just… meeting your cats. All three of them. Seriously, three? Whatever, not important. You should go back to bed, it’s like six in the morning.”

“You should join me,” Toby smirked, winking playfully.

Remy was too hungover for this shit.

“Nope. Nope. Nope. I was right, this was a terrible idea. I’m out,” Remy threw his hands up in surrender, turning to head out the door only to immediately trip over a cat.

“For FUCKS SAKE!”

“Hey, dude,” All joking was gone from Toby’s voice. He frowned in concerned and walked towards Remy, “I was just kidding. But seriously, you should lay down, last night was… intense. And you kind of look like shit.”

Remy giggled with a tinge of desperation, “Please, I am a goddess. Models want what I have. I am an icon, and the lack of appreciation you have just shows I am ahead of my time.”

“Riiiight,” Toby drawled, the concern not leaving his face, “I more meant that you look tired, and you didn’t sleep for very long, so we should maybe-”

“That’s cute,” Remy snapped. His head hurt. He wanted to go home. “I’ve definitely never heard that line before.”

“Excuse me?” Much to Remy’s annoyance, Toby still sounded worried, instead of fed up or angry or disappointed.

“You know, you don’t have to try to be all sly and talk around me, mmkay?” Remy took a step back, stumbling over a cat and struggling to keep his balance when he still felt a little tipsy, “I don’t need any dumb pickup lines or insinuations, it’s getting more than a little irksome trying to untangle whatever subliminal messages you’re trying to blab at me so just. Just do something, stop fucking with me and just... fucking just…” Yeah, no, there was definitely still alcohol in his system, because there was no filter stopping all the words pouring out his mouth and honestly Remy couldn’t bring himself to care.

Toby took a step forward, hands out like he was approaching a spooked animal. Even now he was so fucking gentle, “Hey man, we can talk about, uh, this, but I really think you need to sit down. I can get you some water and-”

Remy gripped a fistful of his own hair. Fuck it, he couldn’t live like this. He was pulling out the goddamn dagger.

“What the fuck do you want?!”

Blinking in shock, Toby actually had the gall to look confused, “Remy, what are you-”

“I can’t keep guessing!” Remy knew he was yelling; knew it was early and he was yelling and he was probably going to get Toby in trouble with his neighbors or something but he didn’t know how to say any of this softly, “It’s driving me crazy trying to figure out what the fuck you expect from me! Just tell what you want me to do, or be, or not be, or whatever!” His jacket dropped from his hands, landing with a ‘thud’ on the ground but he barely noticed, “I’m trying okay? For the first time in God knows how long I’m actually trying here, but it’s pointless if you don’t at least give me a hint as to what the fuck I’m supposed to be doing! So...” Remy panted, hands shaking at his sides, and his eyes were watering but it was probably from the headache. “So just tell me what you want so I at least know what to apologize for!”

Silence rings through the apartment. Even the cats are silence, two of them having run off at the yelling while one of the black cats hovers around the couch nervously. Toby is staring at Remy with wide eyes, and he looks more than a little lost, and this really wasn’t what Remy was going for.

This is why he shouldn’t have tried. This moment, right here, the feeling of whatever he had with October slipping through his fingers was so much worse than just being alone from the start.

But he swallows it back.

“Fuck this.”

His voice cracks, but he ignores it as he turns around, stumbling towards the door. He just wants to leave.

At that moment, Toby snaps out of whatever shock had left him frozen, his eyes widening in panic as he saw Remy try to leave, “Woah woah woah, wait!” He rushed forward, because no he was not going to let Remy just leave, not when he looked so sick, not when he looked so broken.

Toby’s hand wrapped around Remy’s thin wrist, jerking him to a halt, “Remy, wait!”

But Remy pulls away, refusing to look back at Toby as he desperately tries to escape his grip, “Let me go!”

“Remy, just hold on-!”

“No! I’m done-!”

“I just want to talk, please-!” Toby reached out with his other arm, gripping at Remy’s shoulder in an attempt to turn him towards him.

Gritting his teeth and clenching his eyes shut, Remy let out one last shout, “Let GO!” as he shoved Toby away from him.

As they staggered apart, Remy didn’t notice Toby’s fingers snag in his necklace until he felt a pinch and a light ‘snap’ at the back of his neck. The three charms barely made any noise as they landed on the floor, the silver chain tangling around them. Even as the two men each regained their balance, Remy leaning against the front door as his stomach lurched from the hangover and Toby standing frozen next to the couch, neither could take their eyes from the fallen jewelry.

The room was silent except for Remy’s harsh breathing, until it was interrupted by a choked sob. It took Remy a moment to realize it came from him.

Toby’s eyes snap up, and he looks more heartbroken than Remy thought was possible.

“Remy…”

He doesn’t get the chance to say anything else though, as Remy turns on his heel and swiftly fumbles with the lock until he has the front door thrown open, only to slam it behind him just as fast.

Flying down the stairs, Remy nearly trips three times. When he bursts out of the building, he’s dizzy, and he feels sick, and he thinks he might be crying and he has no idea where to go but he picks a direction and runs anyway. The street is empty and quiet, the cool morning air a blessing against his heated skin, and the sky is still pink as the sun rises.

After a few blocks, the consequence of running with an intense hangover becomes apparent, and Remy ducks into an alley to throw up.

When his stomach is empty, he leans against the wall, and he could almost laugh because here he is again, crying in an alley over a boy he’ll never be good enough for. Nothing has changed. He hasn’t changed.

He leans heavily against the wall, taking gasping breaths and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. It takes a few minutes for him to calm down, and he debates just staying in the alley, but he feels too close, and even though he feels like shit, his body is jittery and restless. He needs to move, needs to run away just a little more.

Taking a deep breath, wiping his face with the back of his hand, he starts walking. He left his jacket in October’s apartment. He doesn’t have his wallet, or his phone, or his keys. His hands reach to his forehead and he realized he doesn’t have his sunglasses. His hair blows freely around his face. The phantom weight around his neck reminds him that his necklace is gone too.

He feels hollow.

Gutted.

Shivering slightly, he wraps his arms around himself. Remy would love nothing more than to fill the emptiness in him with booze, or cigarettes, or unmarked pills like he has so often before, but without his wallet that’s not an option. For the first time in so long, Remy has no choice but to just feel all the bad things inside of him. And there is a lot of it.

This isn’t who Rem wants to be. This is who Remy has spent years trying not to be.

But nothing’s changed.

The sun rises, the light hurting Remy’s unprotected eyes. Downtown wakes up, cars filling the streets and people crowding the sidewalks.  He stops in a park for a little bit to get some water from a water fountain and get his bearings. He sits on a bench for a bit before the restlessness returns, and he finds himself wandering again.

He walks in circles. Going around blocks, looking for dead ends, doubling back. His mind feels like static. There are no words to his thoughts, just vague aches and pains. He knows where he wants to go, but he doesn’t want to go there.

But, as the sun peaks in the center of the sky, he finds that his feet take him there anyway. The city settles into suburbs. Remy walks through the nicer neighborhoods where he sticks out like a sore thumb, the areas where he is never more aware of how shitty he must look. The sun is just starting to dip into afternoon when he arrives at the familiar house.

Remy isn’t sure how long he stands on the sidewalk outside, but once he starts walking towards the front door, he feels like he’s moving through molasses. His limbs feel heavy and unwieldy and he cannot deny that his heart is pounding with something like fear. His hand is shaking when he knocks on the door. His whole body is shaking when he sees the doorknob turn.

Picani is dressed casually, no tie and with his shirt pushed up around his elbows to reveal the cartoon themed tattoos on his forearms. He blinks in surprise as he takes in the figure in front of him.

“Remy?”

That’s all it takes. Remy sucks in a breath, and barely manages to choke out one word- “Dad….”- before it’s lost to sobs. He feels so small, curling into himself, and covering his mouth with his hands as if he could hide all the pain pouring out of him.

His dad doesn’t hesitate. The first tears have barely made it to Remy’s chin before Emile has his arms wrapped securely around his child. Despite being shorter, Picani feels large, feels strong, and safe, covering Remy like a bandage. It makes Remy cry harder.

“Shhhh, I'm here, I got you, Remy,” Picani whispers, pressing a kiss to the side of Remy’s hair, pulling him even closer as he shakes and cries.

“I'm here.”

[giulyshipsarelife]

Santa's Official Helper

Day 3 of the Hayffismas Week : Au or Semi-Au based on a Christmas book/Movie/Song etc

Summary: This is a Modern AU based on a scene that I had Seen on TV.

You can also find it on [AO3]

__________________________________________________

Peeta Mellark stood in The Twelve’s library, staring at the empty red velvet chair in the town’s small scale version of a Christmas Village, looking for all the world like he was about to burst into tears. His uncle, Haymitch Abernathy stood behind him, looking like he had no idea what to do if his nephew were to burst into tears.

“It’s - it’s alright, Peeta,” he said, giving the boy’s shoulder a squeeze. “You can leave school a little early tomorrow, and we’ll drive down to Portland and go to the mall there.”

Peeta looked up at him uncertain, his lower lip pushed out in a rather endearing pout. “But tomorrow is the holiday party at school. You said you’d help me make cookies tonight.”

“Right…” Haymitch frowned. He’d known that, but things had been a bit busy the last couple of days with it being so close to Christmas and the end of the year. It was the first Christmas he celebrated since he was sixteen and it was because of his nephew. The child's family had died in a fire and he was the only superstite. They have been living together for almost a year.

He had always hated Chistmas, even when he was a child. But here he was, in a place where his nephew should have meet Santa Claus, even if he was nowhere.

Haymitch was certain though, that he had read the times for the Christmas Village in the paper correctly. “Santa” would be there from ten to seven, and it was just now five o’clock.

But there was no Santa, just an empty chair.

“Oh!” came a voice from the back of the library. “I’m sorry! I didn’t realize anyone came in.”

The man’s face lit up as Effie Trinket came around the shelves. “Trinket,” he started, then he stopped and his mouth dropped open when he saw what she was wearing.

The green skirt was a bit shorter than her usual wardrobe, and it puffed out around her legs from the crinoline that was beneath it. Her top was a simple green button down with some red and white embellishments, but what really made her ensemble were the candy cane striped stockings and the sparkly red heels. She was the most adorable Santa’s elf he’d ever seen, and he was quite possibly even more smitten with her. And that was saying something given that he’d been besotted with her from the first day they met and had been harboring a growing crush every day since.

"Finally, you have learned my name. But you should add 'Miss' before my surname." She said amused.

“Uh, I’m - I mean we were -” He snapped his mouth shut and pressed his lips together, struggling for words as a slow smile spread over her face.

“Where’s Santa?” the child asked.

Effie’s face fell. “I’m so sorry, dear. He had to, uh, go - back to his workshop.”

Peeta shuffled his feet and pushed his hands down in his coat pockets. “Oh. Why?”

She knelt down in front of him and gave him a small smile. “Well, there was a problem with some of the toys and he had to make sure it was all fixed in time for Christmas.”

Her eyes darted up to Haymitch’s face, and her smile broadening when she met his stormy grey eyes. “It was very last minute, I’m very sorry. I meant to put up a sign, but I got distracted reshelving some books.”

Haymitch shook his head. “That’s quite alright, Sweetheart.”

The woman glared at him, probably because of his lack of manners.

When he had met her the first time he had noticed that she loved to behave like a proper lady. And he had found entertaining to annoy her, so he used pet names like Sweetheart or Princess.

"He is a very busy man." She added.

The Santa duties were usually covered by a combination of Mr. Heavensbee from the drugstore and Mr. Odair who taught biology at the high school. Something must have happened to one or both of them for there to be no one to cover.

“Will he be back tomorrow?” Peeta asked.

Effie bit her lip and shot another look at Haymitch. “I’m sorry, but Santa’s schedule is so busy he won’t be able to come back tomorrow.”

The child looked almost distraught. “But Mitchy - how - how will I tell Santa what I need for Christmas?”

The man braced himself for a difficult evening of dealing with an extremely disappointed six year old. “Well, uh, we - we can go this weekend...” No, there was the Everthorne’s party this weekend in the woods. “Or, um…”

“Hey, darling,” Effie said, her voice just above a whisper so that Haymitch could hear what she was saying.

He flash her a smile when she glanced up at him, grateful that she’d sensed his distress.

Peeta immediate turned his attention to her, and she leaned in with a sly smile. “You know, I’m Santa’s Official Helper in Twelve. If you tell me what you want for Christmas, I can tell Santa.”

Peeta titled his head to the side. “How?”

“I’ll text him.” the woman grinned. She didn’t care if it made sense or not, if it made the child happy and save his uncle some grief, it was worth it.

The boy’s eyes went wide. “You have Santa’s phone number?!”

Even though it was harmless white lie told for the benefit of a child, she still felt quite important.“All Santa’s helpers do.”

“Wow…” His voice was hushed and he looked up at Effie in awe. Then he pulled a face. “Do I have to sit on your lap?”

It was all she could do not to laugh, and when she looked at his uncle again, she could see he was having the same problem. “Not if you don’t want to, darling. All you have to do is whisper to me.” She turned her head to the side, her eyes on Haymitch’s as his nephew leaned in to whisper his most wanted presents in her ear. The way he was staring at her made her heart skip, and she had to ask Peeta to repeat his last item to make sure she got it all correct.

“You promise you’ll tell Santa?”

Effie smiled and straightened, brushing her hands down the front of her outfit. “I’ll do it right now.”

She walked over to the main desk and picked up her phone, opening a new text message and typing out what the boy had just told her. To make it look more real, she entered SANTA at the top in the recipient list. Of course there was no such contact in her phone, but the child didn’t need to know that.

“See?” she said, bending down to show him the phone.

Peeta eyed the screen and a wide grin spread over his face, much to his uncle relief. She had turned away to show his nephew the message she was pretending to send to Santa, but he could read the screen quite clearly over her shoulder. Luckily, he knew his nephew would have asked for a recipes book and for a small building kitchen that children usually used to faking cook. He had only to go out, bought them and then wrapped and hid on the top shelf in his walk-in closet. He thought he must be beaming from ear to ear. Effie Trinket was an absolute treasure.

“Thank you, Miss Effie!” Peeta exclaimed, throwing his arms around Effie’s neck.

She laughed and hugged him back. “You are so welcome. I’m glad I could help. And I see that you are a gentleman, fortunately you aren't like your uncle.”

Her eyes found Haymitch’s again as she said his name. She had turned around and her eyes were sparkling.

Haymitch scoffed but he didn't say anything.

An idea popped into her head. “Sweetheart, Why don’t you go grab some candy out of the bowl? I think there’s some peanut butter cups left...”

Peeta gave a cheer and ran across the room to the refreshment table to dig through the candy bowl.

“Speaking of phone numbers...” she said as she turned to the man and held out her phone.

The message to “Santa” was still open on the screen, the cursor blinking next to it. It took him a moment, but he finally reached out and took it from her, and entered his personal number.

He wasn't sure he'd had done the right thing. Giving her his phone number. He found her annoying and crazy. Who cared that she was one of the sexiest teacher he had ever known? Who cared that he loved her smile and how she behaved with children? Who cared that she had a masterpiece as an ass? Certainly not him... Well, he might had a crush on her but it was only that.

He handed the phone back, while thinking at all of those thing. A few seconds later, his cell beeped in his pocket. Effie waited as he pulled it out to see a message from her number. Up popped the list of Peeta’s gifts.

He grinned. “Very clever, Princess.”

Effie’s head dipped and she smiled. “Why, thank you.”

"No, really you have just saved me, Princess." He added.

She gave him a soft smile and then she spoke again. "So now the princess had just saved her prince?" She asked with a strange glint in her eyes.

Her words left him unprepared and he found himself without a quick remark.

He touched nervously his hair. "I'm not... We are not.. well not that I don't find you hot.. but you are my nephew's teacher.." He bubbled.

She started to laugh at his attempt to say something comprehensive. "It was just a joke, you have to relax," she brushed her hand with his. "Prince" she added with an amusing smile on her lips.

He shook his head while Peeta hurried back to his side, the pockets of his coat stuffed with candy. Haymitch rolled his eyes.

"Umh, we need to head home and - bake - a batch of cookies for tomorrow.”

She gave Haymitch a sympathetic look. “Goodnight, Mr. Abernathy. And goodnight, Peeta!”

“Night, Miss Belle!” The boy hollered back, already halfway out the door.

“Goodnight, and thank you.” He sighed and inclined his head, not looking forward to spending the night in the kitchen, covered in flour.

“If you need help,” Effie called out, and Haymitch stopped with the door open. She help up her phone and wiggled it back and forth. “You know how to reach me.”

She winked at him, and his eyebrows lifted. “Indeed I do, Sweetheart.”

*

Effie was standing in her small kitchen, toying with the string of a tea bag while it seeped, when her phone buzzed. She picked up and tapped the screen.

I'm bored, sweetheart. You know how to help me? Haymitch.

She smiled fondly at his inappropriate message.

[azissuffering]

The Cure Part 2 (ACOTAR/ToG Fanfic)

I may have taken some liberties with the Weaver's cottage.

Aelin was pissed again.

The initial rush of outrunning a band of angry, terrified soldiers was gone. Impossible to retain any kind of good spirit if you'd been running nonstop for the better part of a day. Even harder if you were running through a forest.

She hissed a curse as she ran headlong into a branch. Cursed again when an arrow grazed the pointed tip of her ear.

"Damned archers," she muttered, coaxing her weary legs to move faster.

Her breaths came in short, rasping pants, lungs burning, braid streaming. Going from knocked-unconscious to flat-out sprint was a stupid stunt, even for her, but to go from flat-out sprint to marathon-run was proof of how exhausted and addled she was.

The trees were a blur as she ran past, pine and oak and forever-budding dogwood. The animals had been scared off by the commotion behind, but the flora was still present. Purple jasmine flowers and little, yellow spuds that puffed and floated on the breeze. In another situation, she may have been lucid enough to call this place beautiful. But through current events, "fuckin' madhouse" may have been a more apt description.

As the day wore on, Aelin noted that the trees had begun to thin. Her first reaction was to be grateful, for there were fewer roots and rocks to trip upon, but then common sense spoke up and she realized that less cover meant an easy target.

From behind came a shout. "Archers, ready!"

An arrow thunked into the bark of a tree beside her head.

Aelin whirled, cupped a hand to her mouth, and shouted back, "Definitely ready!" And then resumed running.

Perhaps sound carried better in these woods, and perhaps Tamlin's soldiers possessed a pride easily-wounded, (or perhaps she'd finally tired, and she just wouldn't admit it) for suddenly they were that much faster than her, breaking through the trees on white horses and bedecked in golden armor, plated scales running down the graceful lines of their legs and arms. How they had gotten into such assembly while she wasn't looking, she'd never understand.

But her steps were slowing as nausea and dehydration set in, and panic, with his stubby little legs, was finally able to catch up to her mind and say, What the fuck are you gonna do now?"

For the first time in a long while, Aelin Galathynius was prepared to give up, but then that shadowy little voice brushed her mind.

This way, it said, and this time something in it was distinctly female.

A mental tug had her stumbling eastwards, cutting a line directly across the soldiers' path, a necessary risk if she was to have any hope of escape. Her body went into autopilot, brain shutting off, until all she could feel was that insistent pull and a little voice in her head saying, This way, this way.

Aelin's mind woke up some time later, when she realized a miracle was occurring before her very eyes. Somehow, somehow, the voices were fading. A deep inhale had her suspicions confirmed. She couldn't smell Tamlin anymore.

The trees had stopped thinning, but the land was remarkably different. The plants were thinner, longer, as if less accustomed to standing stiff against the wind or pulling nutrient from the sun, and more to creeping around the trunk of some greater life, drawing soul from that being instead.

The air was still and humid, thick with pollen and heavy as a blanket. Aelin was left with the feeling she could sweat as much as she liked and she'd never cool off.

The voice said, Almost there. This way.

She found her steps slowing, mind clearing, and her gaze drifted across the small glade she'd stopped in. There, to the left, was a small cottage. Thatch on the roof, held together by something sticky and thick. Thin windows, tall and thin, like those on the castles back in the mountains of Doranelle. Immediately upon seeing it, Aelin struggled to turn around, fought the hold in her mind. She might be dead tired, but her instincts were still in tact. Something was very wrong with this place.

Calm down, the voice said, and...yes, that was definitely a female, an irritated, testy one at that.

"Hell, no," Aelin said out loud. "You're crazy."

Irritation flickered again.

And then the door was opening, and a clean, brown-haired female was stepping outside. Her scent was strong even with the breeze so full of pollen and Spring-shit, something dark and writhing, like a feral beast shoved into a rusted-down cage, bars popping and straining and near ready to burst.

As the female stalked closer, green dress swishing behind her, Aelin took note of the pointed ears, the delicate tattoo trailing up her arm, and the angry cobalt eyes that now flashed at her. The female stopped right in front of her, perhaps an inch or two shorter than Aelin herself, but not intimidated in the slightest.

The first thing she said was (in a particularly crabby, old woman kind of way, if anyone was asking Aelin), "If you want to die, stay out here. If not, stop being an ass and follow me."

With that, she pivoted on her heel and stomped back to the cottage. Aelin slipped inside before the door could slam shut.

Inside, it was a mess. No matter how disturbing the outside of the house was. The interior was...something. The floors and ceilings resembled hardwood, but they were pure, midnight black. And old. Ancient. No cobwebs, no spiders or creepy things hiding behind rotted boards, but it was cracked and had that musty book-smell of houses long ago abandoned. There were no connecting hallways, and Aelin thought that the whole place was a lot smaller than it appeared on the outside. The single room was lit with scanty furniture: an old chest (and with the chairs surrounding it, and its relatively flat top, she supposed it was passing as a table), a stuffed black dog curled on the purple throw-rug in the back, a bookcase, so low to the ground it might've been built for that hound, once well-aged (and somehow breathing), to go perusing through the stacks. And then there was the old loom, propped in the corner of the room beside a thin-cushioned stool, perfect and unmarked by dust, as if someone had used it just hours ago.

Overall, it was the works of a very creepy house.

Aelin turned to find the female assessing her with a frankness that had her bristling.

She glared right back.

The female let out something that might have been a snort and moved to get one of the chairs from its perch beside the chest. She brought it over, a nice healthy distance away, and flicked her fingers in a way that indicated Aelin should sit.

If she'd been at full strength, she might have laughed, turned the chair upside down and sat on the wrong side, just for the heck of it. But she wasn't, and so she didn't.

Her body sagged when she sat, fatigue hitting her with all the subtlety of a brick to the face. She hadn't let it show, but even when she'd just woken up from unconsciousness she'd been tired. Dealing with fools like Tamlin made her head hurt on a good day, but with Evangeline so far gone, and without Rowan's stoic support at her side...

She knuckled her eyes. "Damn..."

Soft footsteps had her looking up. The female had returned, a washcloth and bucket in hand.

"I know some things about healing," she said.

It was an offer.

Aelin cocked her head. Then nodded.

The female set the bucket down and knelt beside her. She did not pick up the washcloth as Aelin expected. Instead, a gentle whisper in her mind — Let me in?

Aelin glanced up sharply, found the female's piercing eyes already waiting. Knowing. Aelin studied her for a moment, wary and intrigued at the same time. Open trust did not come easy.

But this female had helped her and obviously was aware that Tamlin was an idiot, and as far as she was concerned, that was reason enough to place some good will in a person.

So Aelin nodded and the voice turned into something thicker, more tangible, as it brushed up against a barrier in her mind she hadn't been aware existed.

You need to put this down.

Aelin wasn't sure how, but she tried, and she found that this "wall" slid away as willingly as it slammed back up. The shadow in her head was gentle and feather-light, which she appreciated, given how startling even this small touch was. It wriggled deeper and deeper, like a little black worm, until it had reached the very core of her, a center of golden flame and burning heart. The worm felt out of place in there, and Aelin had to fight to keep from shoving it away entirely.

Relax. A word on the edge of her consciousness.

The word was a command, an order, and it had her rising faster than she could measure. Stubborn refusal and rage bubbling to the surface, hot and angry and compulsory. A knife found its way into her hand and she took a step forward, even through the sub-reality of her own making.

Relax. The word held a harder edge.

It was a struggle to remind herself that the danger was of her mind and not a noose poised about her neck.

She won, eventually, forcing tense muscles to relax and heart-rate to steady. The worm seemed to sigh, and then something deep and dark flowed into her being, a soothing darkness like she hadn't felt since she was less than a babe, rocked to sleep in her mother's womb. It filled her, full to bursting, sending dying embers into a burst of flame that popped and roared before settling into a steady beat.

Aelin opened her eyes with a quiet gasp.

The worm was gone, and —

"I feel...good," she breathed. "Better than good."

The female laughed quietly. "They always say that the first time." Still kneeling on the floor, her stern gaze had softened considerably, into something friendly, if slightly concerned. "You're alright, then?"

Aelin gave her an incredulous stare. "Did I not just say that?"

The female shook her head, a sly smile on her lips. "You did. I meant mentally." Her smile halted, blue eyes darkening. "Tamlin can be a bit..."

"Of an ass?"

"Of an ass," the female agreed.

Their voices died away, and suddenly without them, everything seemed unnaturally still. A glance out the reed-thin window confirmed that yes, the world chirped on outside, with a crescent moon hanging dubious in a purple sky.

"Moon's beautiful, isn't it?" the female murmured, and Aelin wondered if she was imagining that quiet hint of longing.

She debated the many possible tones to which she could answer that question before settling on, "Looks like a toenail clipping."

A snort. "I suppose it does."

Aelin studied the female, brown hair snagging halfway down her back, slender neck and nose, eyes deep and knowing as her own. All distraction to hide the strange broadness of her shoulders, the muscle that danced along her arms and legs, all unbecoming of a lady born to tittering and lash-fluttering.

Sort of like...me?

In the following moments, she contemplated the wisdom of her next decision.

"Aelin Galathynius," she said abruptly, and the female turned to look at her. "That's my name. I also happen to be queen of a kingdom you've never heard of."

The female blinked, then nodded, as if this news was not particularly surprising. "I'm Feyre." A pause. "Affiliated with a Court different than this."

Aelin grinned. "Would never have guessed, what with how loyal you are to His Royal Pansy-ass."

Feyre snorted and shifted on the floor into a cross-legged position. "Try dealing with him for nine months and let's see how loyal you are."

"Oh, I don't know. I think I could entertain myself. It was kind of fun to see him spluttering so beautifully."

Feyre scratched her cheek. "You've got me beat for sheer will, I'll give you that. Knocked unconscious only to wake up Tamlin's face." She shook her head. "I'd have gone right back to sleep."

Aelin laughed. "I was thinking about it." As her gaze wandered the cottage's strange contents, her thoughts returned to more pressing matters. "Where are we exactly."

"Well..." Feyre hesitated.

Suspicion was her bane. Voice flat, Aelin said, "Tell me."

A flash of temper. "I'd tell you if I knew," she bit out. "This place isn't exactly consistent."

"What do you mean?"

"Sometimes it's here, and sometimes it's...not." She shrugged. "The previous owner was old, older than this land. She needed somewhere safe to stay, so she built this cottage. She made sure it was sufficiently hidden from the rest of the world. Took safety precautions."

"Disappearing to somewhere you can't find it isn't very befitting of a safe-haven."

Feyre brushed a fist down her jaw, a crease of worry appearing between her brows. "That's not all it does."

Aelin gave her a look.

"It also...might disappear while you're in it."

She blinked. "You mean we might be hurtling through space right now?"

"Possibly."

Aelin looked out the window again. The moon was still there, wan and pale as ever. "Doesn't look like it."

"It doesn't have to," Feyre said. "It —" She sighed the sigh of one too young to be so weary. She stood up and smoothed a wrinkle in her dress. "Do you know what a pocket realm is?"

Aelin swung back in her chair, arm hanging over the side. "No idea."

"It's...hard to explain. I...perhaps better if I show you." Feyre paced in a circle, looking decidedly frazzled as she ran a hand through her hair. "I wish Rhysand was here," she muttered. "Always the better teacher." She stopped, took a breath, and turned back to Aelin. "This might be a bit startling."

She snapped her fingers.

Aelin was not sure what happened next.

Cliffhanger for y'all!

[writing-royza]

Two Hundred and Fourteen - Covered Eyes, 3.0

A/N: Happy Sunday, everyone! With the region getting walloped by snow, I got to spend the day inside with the cat.... I think we’re looking forward to me going to work tomorrow.

I do not own FMA.

Two Hundred and Fourteen - Covered Eyes, 3.0

She felt the fabric cinch tight against the back if her head, before Roy's voice came through the enveloping darkness. "Okay; ground rules," he said quietly. "Keep pace; don't go too fast or too slow. The blindfold must stay on. And above all, do exactly as I tell you." His fingers lightly curled around her chin. "You ready?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's my girl." There was a short pause as he no doubt glanced about for anyone watching before his lips pressed against her forehead. "Listen for the buzzer. I'll be ready and waiting."

His hand shifted to her shoulder, squeezing once in reassurance, and then he was gone, his footsteps disappearing through a door that closed with a soft thud. Riza was left alone with nothing but her own thoughts, the familiar weight and feel of her favourite handgun against her palms, and the sound of her own breathing.

Now, she waited.

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

Standing behind the closed door, Roy could only catch snippets of phrases here and there, and only when they were shouted. At this point, he was aware of Breda's voice becoming slowly louder out of frustration. "Turn left - your other left! Fire, straight ahead! I said 'straight!' Fine, whatever, just keep going...."

He allowed himself a tight smile, closing his eyes and breathing deep, working his mind into the kind of deep focus usually reserved for his research. Running through a list of possible highly-specific directions and orders he could give, he added in any and every advantage and disadvantage he knew Riza did or would have.

Unbidden, the image of her in that room, standing calm and statue-still with her eyes hidden by the blindfold, stole in from his memory. Taunting him with the thought that they had been unobserved, they could have done so much in the short time allotted them before their turn.... What fun could have been had?

Shaking his head roughly to clear it, he dove deep into the focus again. That 'fun' could be saved for later, when there wasn't a rush deadline.

At last, the door swung open, Grumman smiling as he motioned him inside. "Your turn, Colonel. Is your partner ready and in position?"

"She was when I left her there," he answered casually, moving to the edge of the platform. Breda was just leaving the tall chair with a look of annoyance and frustration, pulling the headset off as he did so. "How did it go?"

"Not great," the other admitted, passing him the headset. "Fuery and Falman did better than we did, but, truth be told, I half-expected that."

On the other side of the room below - visible from this second-story observation deck - Havoc was bent double, hands on his knees as he regained his breath. Nearby, an assistant for the exercise consulted a stopwatch before scribbling the final time on a clipboard.

Pulling his eyes away, Roy turned his attention to the map on the floor in front of the chair as he took his seat. The map was a duplicate of the actual maze on the level below, clearly marked with all fire points, every twist and turn, and every dead end. He smiled tightly; this was going to be interesting.

Without warning, the harsh sound of a buzzer echoed through the room below, accompanied by the grinding of a door being raised. Roy settled himself in the chair, hands in his pockets and eyes on the maze below.

"Hawkeye. Go."

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

Havoc reached the observation platform, still slightly out of breath from his run through the maze, forty-five seconds into Hawkeye's run. "What'd I miss? How's she doing?"

"Better than any of us, that's for sure," Breda murmured, his eyes alternating between the maze below and his watch. "She's as far as you were by two minutes and not even at a minute yet."

"To be fair," Falman put in quietly, "she and the Colonel have a lot more practice at giving and following orders than the rest of us. That's probably what's giving them more of an edge."

Fuery nodded in agreement. "And even so, this probably isn't all that easy for them. It takes a lot of concentration, a lot of thinking ahead, not to mention the person on the ground has to trust the person calling the shots."

Shooting the shorter man a disbelieving look, Havoc folded his arms across his chest. "...How does that translate to being difficult for them?! That's what they do all - the - time." He tilted his chin in Roy's direction. "Look at him."

The dark-haired alchemist sat in the tall chair, his posture just slightly less than straight, his hands casually in his pockets and one leg crossed, the ankle resting on the opposite knee. But for all the appearance of relaxation, it was the eyes and body language that betrayed him.

Dark eyes moved quickly, from the maze below to the map in front of him, tracing the paths Hawkeye would need to take in advance of her movements. His shoulders held a certain tension, the rest of him unnaturally still in concentration. His lips barely move when he spoke, his voice low and carefully controlled. Every now and then, as Hawkeye cleared a fire point or some other obstacle, he smiled, the tiny expression radiating satisfaction and the barest hint of pride.

"Oh no..." Breda said under his breath. "He's enjoying this."

"This has to be more like a game to him," Fuery added, in something akin to mild horror. Four heads whipped around to stare at the clock as a bell rang clearly from the maze. "Less than four minutes, and she rang the halfway bell.... How is that possible?"

"Our little lady is quick when she needs to be," Havoc muttered. "But even moving at just above a fast walk, she shouldn't be -"

"Oh, she's not speed-walking down there," Grumman interjected, wandering over to join the group, having noticed their quiet conference. He smiled tightly, the wolfish grin that many forgot the deceptively-jolly old man possessed. “You can’t see from over here. She’s running."

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

Riza joined the rest of the group on the observation platform, her breath still returning and her legs burning, but otherwise entirely as perfectly together as always. Ignoring the four men off to one side, staring at her in disbelief, she crossed to where Roy stood near the edge of the observation deck, watching the timekeepers tally up the final run times.

“How did we do, sir?”

“All things considered, I’d say pretty well.” He half-turned toward her as she stopped a few feet behind, his eyes going to the scuffed knees of her pants. “Sorry about that wipeout you took; I didn’t notice the tripwire symbol until too late. You all right?”

“A skinned knee never stopped me before, sir.” Riza’s lips twitched in a privately amused smile as she brought her hands forward from their place folded behind her back, showing him the red, irritated patches at the heels of her palms. “Writing might be a little painful for the next few days, though. I’ll have to be careful.”

Havoc nudged Breda with an elbow as the rest of the group came over to join their superiors. “See? That’s the worst injury she’s got, and you ran me face-first into a wall!”

“You ran yourself into the wall, because you didn’t listen to what I was telling you!” Breda grinned at both Colonel and Lieutenant. “Nice job, sirs. There’s no doubt yours is the top time. I guess the rest of us have some teamwork to work on.”

Riza’s small smile grew slightly sly. “I’m not going to disagree with you on the second point…. But as to the first, we agreed ahead of time that whatever our time was, it was to be considered null and void. We participated, but we weren’t competing.”

Fuery stared, his mouth dropping open. “You mean… you did it just because you could? No other reason?”

“Exactly.” Smiling in satisfaction, hands still tucked in his pockets, Roy shrugged. “Just because you guys needed to go through the exercise doesn’t mean we didn’t want to play too. But for a team as used to working together as Hawkeye and I, we knew it wouldn’t be fair if we competed. So we just did it for kicks.” The smile became a smirk. “Why should you have all the fun?”

[solargear]

Based off of @Servantserah minicomic Warlock interrupting Ashtoreth and Francis.

Nanny Ashtoreth (Crowley)

Brother Francis (Aziraphale)

Warlock Dowling (age 5)

Part 1

 Diamonds glistened high in the sky on a full moon night. The sonnet of frogs and crickets filled the garden of the Doweling Estate. The rustle of the leaves, and babbling of the garden fountain lulled the Sun driven wildlife to sleep. Off in the distance, the sounds of garden tools were heard as Aziraphale, who was known as Brother Francis, returned them back to the shed. The angel turned his head to see an owl watching him.

“Why hello brother Owl.” He greeted with a warm smile. “Off to hunting? I do hope you find a hearty meal.”

He tipped his hat to the owl as a good night and looked up to a particular window of the Doweling Mansion. As he watched the window, the main light turned off, Aziraphale smiled as he headed to the servants’ quarters. He sat on a bench to await Nanny Ashtoreth, or rather known as his dear friend Crowley. A soft hum of a symphony laid in his lips as he waited.

“Master Warlock... where are art thou, my little hell spawn?” A harsh yet sweet voice called out.

Nanny Ashtoreth called out. She searched for the young master, for the little anti-Christ loved to play just before bed. Faint giggles were heard in the study, and Ashtoreth strode to the room.

“Mm... I swear I head giggling coming from this room.”

Warlock covered his mouth to prevent more giggles. Ashtoreth knew Warlock loved to hide under his father’s desk and there she always found the dear boy. Slowly Ashtoreth quietly walked on one side of the desk and knocked on it.

“Mm... could he be behind the curtains?” The nanny hurried to the drapes and fanned then out.

“No... how about...” she tip-toed to the other side of the desk. “HERE!?” The slender woman acted surprised “I thought for sure he was in here.” Ashtoreth called out.

Suddenly a chair rolled out and out popped the young master. “Here I am...” Warlock giggled. “I fooled you!”

Acting surprised and startled Ashtoreth jumped “You certainly did. But now it is time for all little anti-Christs to go to bed.” She walked over to Warlock and gently picked him up. Cradling the boy in her arms, the nanny started to sing. Grant it, the song was about destroying the world and everything, but a demon did what a demon had to do. Once in the boy’s room, Crowley laid the Warlock in bed and tucked him in. “Now, have horrible nightmares and sleep restlessly.” The nanny kissed the boy on the forehead and sat down to wait until the boy was sleeping.

Fifteen minutes later, when the demon was sure the boy was asleep, Crowley got up and left the room. The demon sighed and hurried to the servant’s quarters to get some rest. Being a care giver to an energy filled five-year-old was tough work actually, and Crowley wanted nothing more to have some drinks with his angel and sleep.

Aziraphale heard faint footsteps and saw Crowley walking up.  He watched as his friend walked up, and, oddly, he had butterflies in his stomach. Seeing Crowley in a dress and makeup made the angel feel... strangely, all tingly. A smile greeted his lips, the gardener straightened out his clothes. “Good evening Miss Ashtoreth... how is the young master?”

“Finally, asleep. Keeping up with a human five-year-old as hard work for an old demon.” The old serpent plopped down in the bench and relaxed like he always did. Arm over the back of the bench and legs spread.

“He is a Inquisitive one...” Aziraphale saw how stressed Crowley was and miracled their favorite wine and two wine glasses. “Care for a drink?”

Sunglasses slid down his nose and saw a goofy smiled in his Angel’s face. “Sure… why not...” he took the wine glasses, so Aziraphale could open the bottle. With slender hand, Crowley held out the glasses. “You know, we could just pop back to my place and drink there...”

Pouring the wine, the gardener looked to the nanny. “I suppose we could, but it is such a lovely night and what better way to spend it, than with my dear friend.” The angel grinned and the large teeth made Crowley laugh. Honestly Crowley had to admit, the character the angel chose was quite endearing. He loved the how his best friend portrayed the gardener so well.

“Hell... those teeth are just too goofy, but...” the demon chuckled. “Kind of cute. But can you have normal teeth just for tonight?”

Aziraphale sat back down and corked the bottle and placed it on the bench. He looked at Crowley and a small tint of pink spread on his cheeks. Never did he think Crowley would call him cute. “We do have to keep up appearances... I can’t. Who knows what might happen if someone sees me without them?”

“Oh... it is dark... everyone is sleep... no one will see” Crowley raised a brow and handed a glass of wine to Aziraphale. Then He took off his sunglasses and hung them on his blouse.

Aziraphale sipped his wine and sat back on the bench. Watching the stars, a few shooting stars streaked the sky. Of course, the angel knew shooting starts were just meteors, but he could not help but wish for tender night with his closest friend. Some time passed before words were spoken. “Crowley... did you mean what you said, that they were cute? These teeth I mean?”

Yellow snake eyes glanced at blue angel eyes. Cheek heated up and Crowley thought about what he said. “Well... um... yeah... I mean... a goofy cute... but that is what you are anyway. Goofy cute...” after heard what the old serpent said, he cursed himself. ‘Oh Satan...’  The idea of such a complement to the angel shook the demon the core, but in an unforeseen good way. Crowley quickly downed his glass of wine and reached for the bottle. Before his hand touched the bottle, he felt a hand over his and his eyes met Angel’s again. A warmth surged through is body at the touched, and Crowley gulped. Snake eyes hooded and longingly gazed back into those piercing blue eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand and held it tenderly. “To be honest, you dressed like that... it is quite fetching” the angel said quietly. Then he stood up and place his glass on the bench. The hand he held, the angel tightened his grip and coaxed the nanny up. “May I have this dance...”

Crowley’s free hand raised straight for his chest, and like a prom date, the demon raised and was led a few feet away from the bench. What had gotten into his friend? Was it the wine, or did Aziraphale actually have romantic interest for the demon? But Crowley was not resisting the advances of the angel either.

Aziraphale was fluid, and his hands slid into place. One on the hip, and the other slid over and fingers locked. With a snap of his fingers, slow waltz filled the air. Slowly, the gardener started to guide the nanny into the waltz. Soon, the angel and the demon flowed over the grass. Tension between them melted, and they danced as one. As the two continued to embrace the closeness of each other, Aziraphale slid his hand around Crowley’ waist more, bring the bodies to touch. The serpent looked down at the angel with surprised, then leaned down to the angel’s ear.

“Angel... you know I am the one to be the tempter” Crowley smirked.

“And who said you had not already?” Aziraphale gazed into those beautiful yellow eyes. He gripped tightened around the slender waist and pulled the sly serpent closer.

“Aziraphale...” Crowley whispered. Crowley hardly ever called the angel his real name. Only in times of great emotion. Which was a curse and blessing. And tonight, was more of a blessing.

The music continued and the two danced. Slowly the grounds keeper led the nanny over to the side of the building and leaned against the wall and pulled his dance partner close. Pulling Crowley close, Aziraphale took off the hat Crowley wore, tossed it to the bench, and combed his fingers through the red locks. The sensation of his hair being toyed with sent tingles down Crowley’s spine. One hand braced against the wall while the other snapped fingers to turn off the music then started to toy with the bow around Aziraphale’s neck.

Crowley figured, to ‘keep up appearances’, a bit of role play would be fun. “Say Francis, hasn’t your shift just ended, perhaps the two of us could~” the nanny started to lean in to kiss the gardener

Going along with the ruse, Aziraphale blush deeper and a bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. “Oh~ We could~” His hands timidly slid down to the supple bottom of Crowley’s, making their groins meet. The simple little pressure started to stir up strange but wonderful feelings within each of them.  Aziraphale licked his lips. His eyes slowly moved from Crowley’s eyes to lips and began to leaned into meet the nanny’s lips. 

Crowley watched Aziraphale and closed the remainder of the distance and lips met. The sensation of lips meeting sparked Francis to pull Ashtoreth into him. The spark grew in to a flame, and black gloved hands cupped the shaggy chops and deepened the kiss. The ginger was a little shocked that the angel would be so willing to engage in romantic fantasies, but Crowley was not going to complain. His desire to express his feelings to the angel has been confined for so long, and now the caged emotions had finally broken free. As the nanny sank into the kiss more, she pressed up against the gardener more. A groan was heard from the shorter man, and he tighten the hold on his tall ginger. Both started to feel their bodies react, and the kiss as broken for a moment. Yellow hooded eyes met blue longing eyes, and a mutual thought was shared. ‘What are… we doing… we shouldn’t but… I do not want to stop.’ Suddenly they pressed their mouths together again with more vigor and shared a few more moments of passionate dancing of the tongues.

Aziraphale subconsciously untucked the black blouse from the back, and a hand slid up under the black blouse. His hand touched smooth soft skin of the lower back sending his body into greater desire for his demon. When Crowley felt the untucking, then the hand on his bare back, his mind numbed. The Ginger’s body reacted, and he moaned into the kiss. He pressed his now hardening groin in to the angel’s and felt Aziraphale’s harden member also. Rubbing their erections together, caused the angel to break the kiss and groan. Crowley took this chance to put lift up the long work garment Aziraphale wore and slipped a hand down the angel’s pants and groped his love. The gardener broke the kiss and gasped, pressing his lower body into Crowley’s hand. 

“Cr-crowley…” the gardener panted as he gazed hungerly into the demon’s eyes.

“Y..yes… Angel…” Crowley gazed back into his angel’s eyes.

“I… um… Think we may want to move inside…” Aziraphale moved his hips some causing them to press into Crowley’s more. 

Swallowing hard and removing his hand from the angel’s pants, the tall ginger nodded. The couple was about to move when they hear a little voice. “What are you to doing?”

Like deer in headlights, the gardener and nanny turned their heads to the voice. Young master Warlock was standing a couple of feet away and was watching them. A few moments went by before either could speak from the shock of being caught about to make out.

Aziraphale was speechless.

“Young man!? Why aren’t you in bed?” Crowley put on his nanny side on and placed his sunglasses back on. ‘FOR THE HATE OF SATAN’ the demon mentally cursed. Reluctantly, he moved from the gardener’s grip and walked over to the boy. He looked his shoulder. With the looks of pain and sorrow of being unwillingly separated, Crowley gave Aziraphale a sympathetic look. ‘I am sorry… I need to get him back to bed’ Then he looked back to the young master. 

“I couldn’t sleep and then I heard music, so I looked out my window and saw you two dancing. I wanted to dance with you too” Warlock grinned.

Once again, Crowley looked back at Aziraphale, who clearly seemed discorporated. Crowley sighed. “Let’s get you back to bed, little hell spawn.”

“Can you sing me a lullaby?” Warlock asked

“Of course, dear” Ashtoreth said sweetly and walked off to put Warlock back to bed. As Crowley carried Warlock back to bed, his heart sank. The intimate moment he shared with his angel was ruined. As the demon became more lost in thought, he tossed the idea of the angel reciprocated mutual feelings. Crowley had waited 6000 years to express his longing to Aziraphale. Upon the demon’s return to the servants’ quarters, would the angel want to try again or pretend it never happened. Suddenly a little hard tap on the nanny’s chest shook her out of her thoughts with the anti-Christ asking a question. “What did you ask dear?”

“Were you and Mr. Francis kissing?” 

Crowley blushed and cleared his throat, “Well… that is a complicated situation, and one a sneaking little hell spawn need not to worry about.” He carried Warlock back up to the room and laid him back down. “Now, time for all little hell spawn to go to sleep.” Nanny said as he tucked the boy back into bed. Crowley sat down in the chair next to the bed and sang the lullaby again.

Aziraphale watch Crowley walk away with the child. His eyes landed on that perfect backside. Watching it sway back and forth and farther from his reach. The angel deflated and sat back down on the bench. He hissed at the ache in his trousers and rubbed it to try and relieve it a little. “Fuck... Hell spawn indeed...” he murmured.

The angel closed his eyes and let out a slow deep breath. He reflected on the event just moments go. He raised a hand to his lips and remembered the soft, warm touch on Crowley’s lips on his. His body remembering the way Crowley pressed into him, and the sensation of pure bliss of being lost in their own world. Then that moment as they looked into each other’s eyes. For many years now, Aziraphale had been battling his feelings. Even though befriending a demon was against Heaven’s rules, he could not help but slowly come to love Crowley. That sly serpent has always seen the angel through key moments in his life. Then that day, when Crowley saved the books, is the moment Aziraphale know he love Crowley. But tonight, was the demon, toying with the angel, or was the feelings of Love synonymous?  With a sigh, the angel stood up and miracled the wine glasses away and took the remainder of wine into his quarters. Once inside he returned to his normal appearance and sat in his chair. Taking out his glasses, Aziraphale slipped them on and reached for his book near by and began to read.