#❝ ✦ ◜ready! aim! fire!◞ — honesty hour.

[iminlovewithpercyjackson]

if I must write creatively for my creative writing class, I will write creatively about my already existing stories so that I do not have to come up with new creative ideas to write

snippet below

“Would you want to spar with me?”

She stared.

“I know I'm not Liria, but we haven't sparred together in awhile because of your magic training. That's fine. You're busy. But I miss it.”

“With swords or magic?” she asked.

“Both,” he replied, a slow, easy grin sliding onto his face. “If we’re fighting magic users, I want practice against them. And you’ll want practice against someone other than Liria.”

“You’ve got a deal,” she told him.

It was dark. Camp was quiet. But out here, just the two of them, that silence didn't feel eerie or lonely like it did sometimes when Holland was alone. It felt almost intimate. And the air was charged with energy, nervous energy from both of them itching to start the fight, a burst of energy that always hit them both around this hour, and something else she couldn't quite put into words.

Holland struck first, launching a fireball ― not nearly as hot as she’d been throwing with Liria ― at him, letting him dodge it and throwing another where he sidestepped. With Liria, she’d had to focus on perfecting each cut with the wind and each twist with the fire. Now, with Zach, all she needed to do was win. Aside from cooling the flames, she wasn't pulling punches. She launched fireballs faster and faster, and she pulled a tall flame up from the ground when he got close, forcing him to skid to a halt to avoid being burned. He twisted around, close enough to strike with his sword, but she caught his blade with hers and slammed it down with a burst of wind. They traded blows for a minute with the swords, her ducking his strikes and him hitting harder and harder each time, testing for weakness.

“Ready to quit?” Holland asked breathlessly in a moment’s pause, her sword against his, her body close in his space, her face inches from his.

Zach smirked. “Not yet.”

He spun his sword downwards, twisting Holland’s arms, and she cried out in pain, dropping her blade. Without pausing a second, Zach caught up her sword and turned to catch her and win, but she brought her hands down with the hardest blade of air she had ever controlled before, and he dropped both swords.

Holland stepped forward, planting her feet on the blades to pin them to the ground, and she sparked a flame in each hand, taking aim and preparing to fire.

“I give.” Zach held his hands up in surrender, still smirking.

Smiling triumphantly, Holland stepped off the blades and picked her sword up and sheathed it. “Well, I guess I won, then, right?”

“You did,” Zach said, sheathing his own blade and turning with her, following her back towards camp. “You’ve gotten much better. We haven't sparred in awhile. You weren't this good last time.”

“I just have magic on my side. I still can't see that twist move coming. It gets me everytime,” she admitted.

“Maybe so, but you have improved,” Zach told her, and she could hear the honesty in his voice.

“Well,” she said, “thanks.”

“Of course.”

[fierte-verte]

Taking Care of the Baby Marauders Would Include:

~ James Potter ~

- Bright-eyed and prepared to conquer the world with his little fists, baby James is always ready to spread some much-needed cheer

- A fast learner with agile hands, he's eager to try anything and everything—ranging from activities that are mildly hazardous to mortally threatening

- So far, he's made some brilliant attempts in ditching his nappies, ridding the garden of its weeds with his bare hands, and kidnapping the neighbor's fire crab during his visits next door

- It had taken three whole months before his scorched left eyebrow grew back completely; nevertheless, James' love for the grumpy creature is stronger than ever

- Active in imagination and having been immersed in magic since birth, James also adores all kinds of stories and legends, especially if they include dragons and hippogriffs

- He's a real Hungarian Horntail enthusiast, proven by all the pictures he's done of them on his bedroom walls—although a few have bronze spikes that seem to resemble wiggly bananas instead

- James likes to name all his masterpieces, and so far glitter-lined Pip stands as a personal favorite, followed closely by macaroni-for-claws Buggleworth

- Spending time with him includes a lot of drawing (snack breaks for pudding included of course), and pretend-Qudditch on the living room couch

- His chubby hands can't quite aim yet, so you're always leaping around with a washing basket

- Granted, it's not the most enjoyable thing to do on a hot summer day, but James' bubbly laughter after scoring a goal makes all the sweating worth it

- And when he's tired himself out by late afternoon, there's nothing sweeter than the sight of him falling asleep against you—eyes droopy, dishevelled curls fanning out across your shoulder, and a small, content smile etched on his lips

- He'd wake a few hours later, bleary-eyed, then buzzing with life again, ready to take on the world one more time with that infectious chortle of his

- Bath time is another highlight—James will go wild over bubbles, hoarding them into a tiny mountain before him

- While he's occupied, you'd shampoo his hair, styling those unruly curls into the most ridiculous of shapes

- Shark James takes a regular appearance, along with Cloud James and Ladybug James—he'd sit there without a care, happily oogling at his bubble minions

- Post-shower baby James smells like sherbet lemons, sweet with a slight zest—compelling yourself not to nuzzle against his cheek is always a lost cause

- For all the zeal he's got bundled up in his small form, however, James has got a remarkably sensitive soul too

- Doesn't matter how well you hide your unease or misery, he'd be able to sniff it out like a hound

- And whenever he wraps his arms tight around your neck, pressing his puny fingers to stop whatever tears are rolling down your face, there's no better comfort in the world that you can possibly imagine

- Baby James Potter has a knack for hugs, there's just no denying that

- Very little upsets him, easygoing nature and all, except for spilled pudding and any prospects of romance for his favorite person—also known as you

- Then and there he'll throw a tantrum or two to ward off interested candidates, to which you'd laugh and reprimand him gently

- Although in all honesty, it's difficult to be cross when you're looking at those bulged, flushed cheeks and that absolutely harmless glare

- Most often than not James would settle from his fit after a minute, distracted by the sweets in a shop window or a passing stranger

- Despite the occasional wild ride, taking care of baby James never feels like a hassle nor chore—he's got a way of winning everyone over with that bold charm of his

~ Sirius Black ~

- Against all assumptions, baby Sirius starts out as a fairly reserved and gentle one; in all surroundings he's quick to adjust, rarely fusses, and only likes to draw attention through gentle tugs on your sleeve or hair

- In fact, the sprog seems a little too subdued at times, as though he's terrified of showing too much emotion

- An upset Sirius is difficult to soothe—whereas most babies would wail or throw a punch, it's almost impossible to discern Sirius' sour mood from all the silent brooding that he does

- The only telltale sign would be the delicate furrow between his brows, or the murk hanging over his sterling eyes

- You'd gather him in your arms, rock his tiny frame back and forth, and mumble sweet things to coax the temper out of him

- Underneath that guarded gaze and tightly pressed mouth, you know there's a world bursting with thoughts and feelings, woven together by all the silent mornings when Sirius would sit by the window, staring into the world outside

- Gaining his trust is no easy feat, but with time, as well as some ups and downs that you overcome together, your patience begins to wear down his relunctance to open up

- Turns out, he can be quite affectionate once you worm your way into his heart—his stretched out arms urging for a cuddle, semi-toothless grin, and babbling of mispronounced words are enough to send even the most cold-hearted to tears

- There's no point in denying it—Sirius is, most objectively, the prettiest baby to roam this planet

- And the little moppet is fully aware of this himself, judging from the number of times you've had to lift him up and away from the mirror

- When he knows you're in dire need of some peace or cheering up, he'd let you braid his locks using his star-shaped hair ties, while flipping through The Quibbler's kids section quietly to let you collect your thoughts

- Baby Sirius is a fan of music; he'll listen to you humming tunes and drumming gentle beats onto the countertop, sometimes joining in with a few notes of his own

- Unsurprisingly, shower-time is usually a full-blown concert—Sirius will draw up an award-winning symphony by splashing the water, blowing raspberries, and tapping on shampoo bottles

- Post-shower baby Sirius smells of salty ocean air, along with the barest hint of lavender from his baby oil

- A favorite pastime you two share is listening to muggle programmes on the radio, you with a glass of wine in hand and Sirius with juice in his rainbow sippy cup

- Though he loves spending time indoors, Sirius does carry a rather adventurous side—a temperament most prevelant at the beach

- His inability to swim does not stop him one bit from barrelling head first in the sea, nor does the constant need to shake wet sand out of his ears

- So far he's recruited an army of flying seahorses there, naming each after a constellation like himself

- An independent soul, baby Sirius thrives on an adequate amount of privacy and alone time; as expected, getting a little brother is the least of his desires

- The horror blooming on his face upon seeing Regulus' wrinkled one, so eerily like his own, is comical and just slightly concerning

- He'd spend the first few weeks peering into Regulus' crib, grimacing whenever the newborn reached for him with his pudgy fingers

- But the prideful kid is fooling no one — many nights you've spotted a petite shadow slipping in and out of the nursery, and not once has Regulus thrown a fit in his sleep

- As they both grow older, and Sirius less displeased with someone toddling after him at all times, he starts to appreciate the extra company

- On sunny days, you'll bring them out to the beach, where Sirius will eagerly introduce to his brother the now alarmingly large number of flying seahorses at his service

- He'll point at everything from the sun to the waves to the shells washed ashore, explaning each in careful details

- To witness Sirius blossoming into the bright and inspiring child that he was born to be, as well as being part of his beautiful world, is nothing short of a wonderous journey

~ Remus Lupin ~

- Devilish or heaven-sent—baby Remus is most definitely both

- Having to rotate between the wizarding and muggle world frequently since birth, he's grown a keen eye for observing his surroundings

- There is nothing, absolutely nothing, that the cunning little trickster can't use to his full advantage

- Every knob, handle, straw, and toy becomes a weapon of destruction in his hands; every pout, dimpled smile, and batted eyelash becomes a ticket to more cookies, as if he doesn't already get enough on a daily basis

- Since most around him find themselves too busy being dazzled by his wit, it can be assumed that Remus gets away with a lot

- Turn your gaze away for a second, and the next you can expect some sort of disaster to strike his vicinity

- Catching the tips of his sandy hair on fire, emptying an entire bag of flour into his lap, switching labels on the sugar and salt tins—you name it, he's done it

- And that guilty giggle of his is a downright menace, the endearing sound never failing to distract you from the actual havoc he's wrecked

- Funny enough, however, tears are a rare occasion for Remus; for all the mischief and drama that he strives to create, the kid is also incredibly brave and resilient

- In some ways, he's got the temperament of a lion—usually amiable, but fierce and protective once provoked

- It is moments when his beliefs are compromised, in particular, that make for quite the violent outbursts—rare as they may be

- You've learnt to give him space for calming down alone, which he'd do until he's placated enough to climb into your lap, blotchy face pressed against yours in silent defeat

- On a lighter note, he's a firm believer in head butts as the remedy to sadness; if he so much as catches a sniffle or tear, you'll be sure to hear hurried waddling, followed by a gentle knock on the forehead in seconds

- He'd hold your hand too, pressing his warm palm into yours for reassurance

- Heart full of compassion, Remus takes it upon himself to rid the world of each injustice; be it an abandoned kneazle on the street, or a neglected elf in Diagon Alley, no act of cruelty escapes his eyes and tiny fists

- Such purpose stems from his ability not to see the world as it is, but as it should be—fair, altruistic, and bettering always

- Undeterred from finding the beauty in life, Remus also maintains a fondness for listening to different languages on the telly, and, with half a cookie in his mouth, mickming their sounds in eery semblance

- You love watching him during these hours—his wide amber eyes that remind you of all the hope in the world, of all the great things he will do one day

- And at night, when those eyes become hooded with sleep, you'll read travel book after travel book, the soft sound and vivid imagery of architectural wonders lulling him to sleep

- In addition, bath time is when he displays the greatest sign of magical talent; bubbles will gather into shapes like the crescent moon upon an unsuspecting blink, then disseminating with ease upon another

- Post-bath Remus smells of strawberries and milk powder, a scent which is overlaid with (surprise) cookie dough

- Unfortunately, keeping his feet away from his mouth then becomes somewhat of a Herculean task—the boy will gladly sacrifice a toe or two for his sweet tooth

- Most evenings, the two of you will take a stroll around the neighborhood, with Remus beaming and blushing from all the old-lady-cooing

- Lately, he's made good friends with every dog around the block too, having them follow him around like happy little ducklings

- For all his brilliance and passion, baby Remus is a force to be reckoned with—you know from the full swell of your heart that he's one special kid indeed

[yarichin-imagines]

Hi!!! okokok, how bout a s/o who has a kind of quirk (just like bnha!), how do you think they would react? Like, I think they'd probably integrate into something related to sex or develop a kink (? LMAO

y'all i am so into bnha you have no idea!! also, for neutrality purposes, i'll be using the quirks of deku, todoroki, bakugou, uraraka, kirishima, denki, sero, iida, and satou, all from class 1A, mostly just because none of their quirks rely on physical appearances!!

tw: impact, dubcon (drugging, somno), dummification if you squint

Toono – S/O's Quirk: One for All – This Quirk is a union of two different Quirks, one that stockpiles power and one that passes itself on to another. The user can momentarily gain strength and speed far greater than any other Quirk and hero.

thankfully by the time he'd met you, you'd mastered the use of your Quirk

you were never the prance about type to flash around your power anyway

you preferred to use it for more mundane tasks – like opening pickle jars and carrying the groceries into the house in one trip

he found out about it on accident

he was on his way out when he caught you in the parking lot coming in––

with your car in hand, two feet off the ground

you'd dropped your fob somewhere underneath it and couldn't see

toono passed out

when he came to, his first questions revolved around whether or not the car was okay

once he wraps his head around it though..

he's way more into it than he tells you

but it also fuckin terrifies him

so much so that he really doesn't want you to use it on him

definitely has watched you use it so intently that he can nut off to it later

maybe one day he'll pluck up and ask you to activate it for some pictures he can keep

Kashima - S/O's Quirk: Half-Cold, Half-Hot – This Quirk splits the user into two, half of the user's body can emit ice, the other half emits fire.

honesty is a pillar to kashima's relationship

your quirk came to light a month or so into seeing him

and at first, he was mostly excited about the health benefits

he decides then and there that you gotta do him a solid and chill his side of the bed

that way he can keep cool when he sleeps

sometimes

even if he's half asleep

he'll grab your right hand with a lil soft tug

and in your drowsy stupor you chill his pillow so there's no need for a flip

makes him grin like an idiot every time

when he comes home from practice or from the gym he has you freeze and unfreeze the bathwater-- saves you guys a whole lot of ice

he doesn't mind letting you ease his muscles with your left side after all the heats works wonders that would make any rice pack green with envy

as a top, kashima's got complete control in the bedroom

all day, he'll ask you to close your eyes and heat something up, maybe it's a vibrator or a dildo

or when you chill something, they're usually beads or a plug

all for him to torment you with later on that night

Yacchan – S/O's Quirk: Explosion – This Quirk allows the user to sweat a substance similar to Nitroglycerin from the user's palms and ignite it to create explosions.

kyosuke recognizes it's too dangerous to use in the bedroom

but that being said, there's plenty of other stuff around the place to let you show off

your firework shows are always the best on the block

especially when he sets some off right when yuu isn't expecting it

mainly, yacchan appreciates your quirk when it comes to pulling pranks

It's really funny when you're popping ziploc bags full of nothing right outside tamura's dorm when he's trying to power nap before exams

and even funnier when he storms out in just tighty whities to yell at you

only to meet the flash of yacchan's cellphone

toono will fall asleep during study sessions sometimes and yacchan will facetime you so you can let out a boom and wake him up

he will most definitely fall off the bed and yacchan will most definitely record it

the two of you are the best of the worst that way

Shikatani – S/O's Quirk: Zero Gravity – This Quirk allows the user to cause people and items to float on contact. There is a weight limit on how much the user can levitate, and if this Quirk is used to much, it will cause the user to get sick.

it's really helpful when you help him deep clean

after all, if the supplies are gracefully floating behind him, that leaves his hands free to do twice the work, saving him half the time

but you're content to watch the beautiful boy work

if you help him clean like that, he won't ask for much more that day

he is very very conscious of how much you use your quirk

because he cares about you too much to let you get sick

since he knows for a fact that because of his ocd he won't be able to take care of you

and that stings

so on the days where the chores have all been done he gets the honor of experiencing the effects of your quirk in bed

he likes how it feels when your tease him from the air above

your throat feels more open

but it's not like he can do too much about it since the instant he gets too eager you always float just out of reach

sometimes if he's behaved very well, you'll suspend him

the headrush he gets is euphoric

but the best is how good you are when you blow out his back with your strap

after all, without gravity, your stroke game is literally out of this world

Akemi – S/O's Quirk: Hardening – This Quirk allows the user to harden any part of their body. This shell can withstand several tons of metal falling on the user, along with shock waves, explosions, etc.

there's nothing cuter to akemi keiichi than a brat

if you want to misbehave?

by all means

go right ahead

he'll leave it to you to exhaust yourself

that's the first time he saw you use it

he wasn't aiming to cause any major damage, he was only spanking you with his hand

but he'd been at it for almost an hour

then suddenly he'd pushed you off him after he'd slapped what felt like a solid rock

not that it could stop him

his eyes only grew darker

from then on out, it was all a game to see how far he could push before the shell wore down and you gave into him

Itome – S/O's Quirk: Electrification – This Quirk allows the user to discharge electricity out of the user's body. It goes out in all directions around the user, and can be used to even charge objects, such as batteries. There is a limit to how much this Quirk can be used, and if used too much, the user will short circuit their own brain, and won't be able to do anything for an hour.

of course you can charge his phone in a pinch when it dies at the worst possible moment

hotwire his car when he's already running late

restart the fusebox when there's a power outage

after hours, itome's not a hard dom

not in the slightest

but every once in awhile, he can be particularly malicious

like when he has you overcharge your vibrators to give him the liberty of overstimulating you for longer

really it's less about the scene and more about what comes after

due to the limits of your quirk, aftercare is all on him

that's what he likes the most

taking care of you completely

being able to coax you through your braindead state

clean you off and pose you all comfortable

you're all the sweeter when you come to, when you come back to him

Yuri – S/O's Quirk: Tape – This Quirk allows the user to shoot extremely strong tape from openings on the user's elbows.

the tape is good for fixing most messes yuri gets himself into, clumsy fuck

also waxing!

of course he's gonna be into it

he loves the sting it leaves when you pull it off him the most

and he feels it all over again when there's red rectangular patches all across his skin the next morning

though the gluey part is a bit of a pain to wash off

sometimes he'll leave it for him to pick at throughout the day -- that way he'll get the shivers, makes him hot all over again!

he literally cannot get enough

when you do your school work or anything that diverts your attention from him, he'll be tugging at your elbow

this way you can restrain him until you're ready to ahem

put him to use

you can also use your tape to toss him around, floor to bed to floor to wherever

sometimes you even tape up his face, cover his mouth until the drool renders the tape into a thin flimsy strip

you tie his hands tighter and tighter every time, and it never breaks him

he loves it

on the other hand, yuri can be quite the slippery fuck

for emergencies, you've got some of your tape stored away

you've woken up more than once hogtied, your quirk turned against you

like it or not, yuri can easily turn the tables and you're almost never expecting it

you might have an unlimited supply, but he's too quick for your own good

Tamura – S/O's Quirk: Engine – This Quirk gives the user incredible speed by engine-like protrusions in the user's calves. The engines are fueled by orange juice, and carbonated drinks will mess the engines up.

he calls a 40 meter dash every single weekend

he sets his treadmill to train for it the whole week

but he never beats you

and it seriously pisses him off

you're always faster, no matter the game

if anything, it motivates him

he'll take the bruised ego if it helps him get into better shape

the fact that sometimes, you let him win makes his "engines" overheat faster than you can blink

he'll chase you and chase you for hours

fueled on adrenaline and testosterone, there's no way he'll tap out before you

expect a long, hard bite once he catches you

he goes absolutely animalistic

that lilt in his voice when he finally gets to sink his teeth into your shoulder, even if it's through a shirt, that doesn't matter to him

"caught you"

Jimmy – S/O's Quirk: Sugar Rush – This Quirk allows the user to become stronger and faster every 10 grams of sugar they eat for three minutes. The more the user uses this Quirk, the dumber they get.

every time he catches you snacking on a chocolate bar his whole brain turns off

he's practically jumping, the way he bounces around

waiting for you to inevitably choke slam him against the nearest surface

wall, couch, bed, anything

he likes it when you just toss him over your shoulder

even more the way your hits are harder than usual

he antagonizes you on purpose

making sure to stuff a grocery cart full of sweets he knows you like so that he can catch you snacking and make him pay through the nose

he always asks so nicely

but when you won't give in, well that just won't do!

doses your miso with sugar, drops in three extra cubes in your milk tea, encourages extra flan for dessert

for the next three minutes, you're nearly tripping over yourself

everything is lighter

and then when the crash hits---

jimmy can finally take what he wants

and karma is quite the bitch

[100hearteyes]

Part 2 of Clarke And Lexa Make a Porno, because why the fuck not.

Part 1.

"No. Absolutely not."

Anya's wolfish grin is no good omen. Lexa feels a sense of dread wash over her and tries in vain to assuage her nerves by holding her friend's gaze. Anya wouldn't look this sure if she didn't have some card up her sleeve.

Lexa throws a furtive glance around, checks that her co-workers are still focused on the German porn telenovela. It's only when she's sure that the action on-screen will keep them rooted for a while that she turns back to Anya, trying but failing to meet her eyes.

She overcompensates with another glance around the room and a low hiss. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but am I not too," she licks her lips, gathering the courage, "'vanilla' to do it?"

Anya shrugs like it's a no-brainer; crosses her arms and props her booted feet on Lexa's desk. "That's exactly the point. You're a lesbian Disney princess. Pretty sure if you started singing the whole fucking fauna of Capitola would follow you around."

Lexa levels Anya with a glare and tries to push her feet off the desk, to no avail.

(Seriously, what's it worth being editor if she can't even have her subjects' respect? She wishes this job was less about the headaches and more about the self-indulgent moments of microscopic tyranny.)

The feet might not budge, but Anya will. Lexa is sure of it. She draws herself taller and tucks on her most authoritative scowl. "I won't do it."

Anya plucks an imaginary cigarette from her mouth and throws it away without a care in the world. She reaches behind her and drags forth a heavy wooden box, filled to the brim with—

"My vinyls."

Lexa is in a daze.

She thought she'd lost all her vinyls to time and moving. She mourned each one of them for at least a year, cried many a night away clutching her record player to dear life, lamenting their shared loss.

They had a real connection.

But it turns out her vinyls weren't lost after all, and her tears were for naught. They were safe all along, albeit in different hands, and she'd known nothing of it, like a mother who lets her children wander about without aim nor authority.

How can she ever have kids if she can't even take care of her prized vinyls?

Lexa feels a prick of self-righteous indignation at the betrayal and puffs out her chest. "Why do you have all my vinyls?"

"I think you mean all my vinyls," Anya corrects with a lazy flurry of one hand towards the box.

"You don't even own a record player."

"How the fuck would you know?"

Lexa raises an eyebrow at her friend. "I come over all the time?"

"I could hide it while you're there."

"And then you'd never find it again, because that's what happens every time you try to hide something from me."

Anya shrugs and watches as Lexa picks one of the vinyls and turns it over in her hands, reading the track list on the back with the reverence one would a millennium-old parchment. Then she looks up at Anya with a stern glare.

"Over half of these were stolen from my house."

Anya shrugs again with infuriating nonchalance and Lexa wishes she had a pencil nearby just so she could snap it in two with one hand. Or stab one of Anya's eyes with it.

"Maybe I just rescued them from the actual malefactor," drawls Anya.

"We both know the real culprit sits across from me and has been wearing the same socks for the past three weeks."

Nailed it.

When she looks at her friend, however, all she sees is that same old resting bitch face that never seems to go away.

"Wow, Lexa," Anya deadpans. "Now you've really hurt my feelings."

Sometimes, Lexa wonders if Anya really has a rock where her heart should be. A supernatural, blood-pumping rock, of course, but a rock nonetheless. Or, maybe, Anya is a psychopath. Maybe the blood money theory wasn't so far-fetched after all. That would explain the brazen lack of empathy for everyone else's feelings, most of all Lexa's. What does it say about Lexa that her one true friend is someone who sneezes literally every time Lexa says 'I love you'?

Not that Lexa says it a lot. Only once or twice every few years.

Just enough to have noticed the pattern.

"Are you really trying to blackmail me with vinyls?"

Anya fakes an affronted gasp, laying a hand on her heart. "Would I ever. Think of it as... an incentive."

Lexa really does love Anya, despite her friend's... unique demeanor. Anya helps her come out of her shell — by taking up all the space and forcing her out of her own metaphorical home — and every once in a while she likes to make sure Anya is aware of her gratitude. Sometimes, though, things get really fucking weird.

Lexa would still do anything for her best friend.

"Let's imagine, hypothetically - very hypothetically," she stresses, although Anya's burgeoning smirk tells Lexa she isn't so easily fooled, "that I agreed. What would happen next?"

Anya takes her feet off Lexa's desk and sits up straighter, perhaps aware of the importance of this moment. This, Lexa decides, will determine her answer.

"Well first, I'd have to get you a costar. Then we'd sign some legally binding shit, find a crew, and make the damn movie. Simple as that."

Anya leans forward, looking into her eyes. In Anya's, she sees honesty and a pressing need to reassure. It takes some of the pressure off her shoulders right away.

"Look, Lexa, you can say no. But your name won't be on anything related to the movie and I promise no one in this shitty town will ever find out you did this."

This is why Anya is Lexa's best friend. And it's why Lexa would do anything for her.

Even star in a porno.

"Okay."

Anya's inner smile must be really, really big, because Lexa knows how hard she tries to tamper its outward expression — and still her lips manage to lift into a grotesque grimace. Coming from Anya, it's the equivalent of a blissful grin.

"Okay?"

Lexa nods and closes her eyes, bracing herself for a bone-crushing hug. It never comes. When she opens her eyes, Anya's resting bitch face is back on.

"What, did you want a fucking hug?"

It's a blessing to have her rude friend back, Lexa guesses, because seeing Anya almost smile is fifty shades of unsettling. So she rolls her eyes and rolls with it.

Her next question demands her full focus, lest she makes an even bigger fool of herself than usual.

Lexa breathes in, makes sure all her co-workers are still otherwise entertained, breathes out. Smooths out a non-existent wrinkle in her pants, wets her lips for courage.

"Anyway," she treads with caution, "do you have someone in mind for the other main role?"

It's fitting that Harper McIntyre's hit song One More Betyreyal (one of her less inspired titles, if Lexa may say so) starts playing in that moment, for the look in Anya's eyes speaks of nothing but danger. Lexa wonders how much planning went into this conversation, so Anya could plan all her gut punches in advance.

"Clarke Griffin."

No. No. Anyone but her.

Clarke Griffin is the new recruit, although Lexa hardly understands how there can be someone new considering the station is broke and they’re already overstaffed — and none of them make nearly enough money for how much they laze around all day.

Clarke came from out of town with a fancy degree and was directly hired as an editor. She voices the early afternoon newscasts and Lexa curses the one-hour period during which she's forced to cohabitate with Clarke every day.

Apparently, Clarke had taken a liking to unnerving her, be it by smirking at her every time she catches Lexa staring or by making all sorts of inappropriate comments — to her ear. Lexa hates how much it affects her, but how can she possibly focus on reporting about Lionel "Real Sight" Foster swallowing his own wooden eye or how Jasper Jordan rescued his own private parts from the jaws of two slats of an unassuming park bench if someone keeps doing everything in their power to distract her?

Lexa has a theory (an iron-clad theory, if she may say so herself), and it's that Clarke is trying to get her fired so she can take her shift. It's the best shift of the day. There is no other possible explanation.

"You know what, I take it back. Now you need to convince two people to star in your porno."

"Oh, there's no need." Anya waves her argument away with staggering nonchalance. "Clarke's already said yes."

Wait, what? "But you told me we'd need to get me a costar."

Anya shrugs and Lexa is now seriously considering revisiting her psychopath theory. "I lied."

"You conniving, lying b—"

"Careful," Anya cuts in with a raised eyebrow. "I am under protection of the Capitola Astrologers Union."

"Of which you are president, treasurer, and the only legal member," Lexa reminds her. "And I think any upstanding judge would love to know how exactly every other name on the list has joined said union posthumously."

"I am an astrologer, Lexa. I can communicate with the dead. It's in my job description."

"It scares me that you're not even aware you're describing an entirely different profession."

Lexa sits back, staring at the ceiling (and the chewing gum Murphy glued there a year ago — he could've been an Olympic jumper if he committed to work the way he does to being an asshole), trying to come to terms with a single, harrowing probability: she's going to star in a porno with Clarke Griffin.

"l don't understand why it has to be Clarke."

Anya leans forward, propping her elbows on her knees, expression serious and ready to talk shop. The last time Lexa saw her like this was— actually, Lexa doesn't think she's ever seen Anya like this.

"Look, I've done some market analysis and most girl on girl pairings are a blonde and a brunette." Anya raises both her hands and starts counting off fingers, "Brittana, Petramos, Holstein, Wayhaught, Supercorp, Joanarty, Choni, the inaptly named Shoni, Deanoru, Dana and Alice, Bette and Tina, Catradora, Villaneve, Clexa—"

"What's Clexa?"

"I don't know, some chicks from this fucking terrible CW show."

"Do you like it?"

"Do I like what?"

"Clexa."

"Dude, I don't even know their fucking names!" Anya exclaims, exasperated. As if she's the victim here. "The only Clexa I ship is you and Blondie. Naked. On my porno. Clarke and Lexa. Clexa. Havin' very hot sexa."

"Smart," Lexa deadpans.

"I know."

"Why can't it be Niylah? She's blonde, too."

Anya's smirk is five hundred shades of gross. "I know you'd love to get up close and personal with Niylah's knick-knacks, but no."

Lexa decides to let the comment fly for the sake of her own sanity.

"Why Clarke, though?"

"Because you two have chemistry, you fucking dimwit."

Lexa snorts. Chemistry. Lexa has never heard of something so absurd. She and Clarke have as much chemistry as Harper McIntyre and any semblance of originality.

Which is to say, none at all.

"She makes very inappropriate comments," she argues instead, knowing full well that pressing on the topic of chemistry will only open way for some trademark crass joke from Anya.

"Yeah," her friend agrees, like it's obvious. "Because she knows you love them."

She most certainly does not.

"I most certainly do not."

"You do. Your freakishly tiny ears go red whenever she flirts with you. Your step falters when she makes one of those comments, for fuck's sake," Anya observes, pointing in Lexa's general direction, before leaving forward and laying a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but you, my friend, are a walking lesbian cliché."

Lexa takes Anya's hand off her shoulder. "Can you please stop insulting my tragically conspicuous homosexuality?"

"Oh please," Anya scoffs. "I'm bisexual, I can say whatever I want."

"If my step actually faltered - which they don't - it would be because her comments are annoying, off-putting, unprofessional, inopportune, and... and inappropriate", she finishes lamely.

"And you fucking love them."

"I don't."

Anya leans back on her chair with an evil smirk, propping her feet on the table and crossing them at the ankles. Lexa tries to push them off to no avail.

"Legalities aside, it's very simple. Clarke has already said yes. I just recorded you saying yes."

Lexa sputters, "You what--"

"You're both legally bound now." Anya shrugs. "Look at it this way: it will be very educational. You'll finally learn how to make a girl come, and get paid for it. Sort of."

A beat of silence.

"Anya, are you aware that you say something at least vaguely criminal every five sentences? Something that could actually put you in prison?"

Anya clicks her tongue, sinking farther into her chair, and lowers her sunglasses to her eyes.

"I've got friends everywhere, Lex. Let's just say I've dipped more than my fingers in my fair share of pies, if you catch my drift." A second later, she lowers her sunglasses just enough to reveal her eyes. "That means my tongue. My tongue's been in a lot of pies, too."

Lexa doesn't doubt that for a second.

"What I need to know is," Anya adds, taking off her sunglasses and throwing them across the room, "will you dip your fingers in the porn pie?"

Like this conversation hasn't caused enough trauma for thirty lifetimes.

"If I say no, will you still give me back my vinyls?"

"Absolutely fucking not."

Lexa swallows, clenches her jaw, and thinks of all those lonely nights spent in the couch clutching her record player and sharing cookie dough ice cream with it, longing for long-gone times when she'd dance to the mellow voices of the likes Billy Ocean and Ella Fitzgerald.

"My answer is yes."

[jennagill]

Take a Shot at Love

Summary: Katniss is new in town and Peeta is her range guide. Now rated M. 

Part 3 is written for @promptsinpanem in the 15 Days to Finish Your Fic (For Kika) Round. Parts 1 and 2 on AO3 here. They’re short if you missed them in ... checks notes... 2015 and 2018.

Yes. I told him yes. His face brightened into a warm smile at my acceptance. We agreed to meet at the Club but that doesn't stop the butterflies in my stomach while I get ready in my apartment. 

Right now I'm struggling with what to wear. Practical over anything else. Closed toe shoes, high neck top, practical above anything else. I don’t want a rogue shell casing burning me. Besides, it's only a Sunday afternoon, right?

So it feels like a date, but I—and anything else in my head is blinded by the flash of someone’s daytime running lights outside my apartment. It’s just someone turning around but my eyes cut to the clock and I need to leave now. Long-sleeve turtleneck and vest with jeans it is, as I slide into my boots and head out the door. The drive over to the Capitol Hunting Club is mercifully short, compared to the growing list of questions in my head. I park and grab my bow and quiver with standard arrows before rushing inside. 

The main showroom is packed. Who knew so many people wanted to attend this event? How am I ever going to find Peeta in here? My mind buzzes as I scan for his face when a gentle nudge from behind stops me in my tracks. 

“Hey, found you,” he greets me with another one of those disarming smiles. 

He’s definitely cleaned up well. Gone is the safety hue and in its place, a fetching shade that matches his eyes. 

“Hey, uh yeah. This place is crazy busy. How'd you manage the day off from work?” I ask as my eyes roam the facility and catch a few familiar faces. “Looks like they have the whole staff on point here tonight.”

“I traded a coworker for a few Saturdays. It was quite the negotiation,” he pauses for a long moment, as if he is deciding something. “Ultimately though, I told him that I had a really special date,” he says as heat blooms across his cheeks. 

“So this is a date, then?” I say with caution. “I wasn't sure, so I'm glad we have that clarified.” It almost sounds like a contract, rather than romance.

“It's a date if you allow it,” he stammers as his cheeks reach beet red before settling back into his normal skin tone.

I consider this, weighing my heart, body, and head on the matter. I can only imagine the confusion my face must show until I meet his eyes and the fog begins to lift. “I'll allow it, though...having a first date on Valentine's Day? What kind of omen is that?”

“Truth be told, Katniss, I've been wanting to ask you out for months but never worked up the courage until now,” he says quietly. “I’m not placing any special emphasis on the day, I’m just happy to be here, with you.”

Well that’s hard to argue. “Okay, well where do you want to start?” I try with a smile.

“Shoot first?”

“Pardon?”

“The pistol range, then the archery range, and then the meal?” 

“Oh, I don’t… really know that much about pistols, my only experience with guns is the shooting we did the other weekend.”

“Oh I have a feeling you’ll be dead on with your aim and we can rent from the club too since I don’t own a pistol. I’ll run you through a safety briefing too.”

I keep considering his motives and his actions, if they are aligned or if I’m missing something as we move to the first station. It’s not much more than a series of door frames with walls in between, just enough for two people to stand closely with a shelf at waist height to place the weapons. I watch Peeta take aim at the ringed hearts on paper hung seven yards away. Blue, purple, and pink. Pop, pop, pop, goes my nerves and heart. The sound is too much on this indoor range with the pistols, even with the noise canceling headphones Peeta lent me. 

“Your turn,” he gestures and shows me that the pistol is on safety and pointed down range on the shelf. He changes the target out for good measure too. 

I take the pistol in my hands, forming the teacup he mentioned and squinting at the target. The cool steel chills me—I’m more accustomed to the warm bow wood. I flip the safety off and squeeze the trigger, taking a breath between shots. A crackle of electricity runs through my shoulders and spine as I finish my clip but it’s not the same thrill found in the woods. I take another glance at the target. All of the paper hearts are shredded.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” Peeta asks in amazement.

“Thanks, though I think I’ll stick with my bow or trap and skeet,” I say, flipping the safety back on, placing the weapon down, and backing away from the shelf. 

Peeta sends another series of shots down range but I’m done shooting pistols for the day. My fingers are itching to get back on a bow. I go over to the archery station for some sanity while Peeta returns the equipment to the rental booth.

Red balloons are attached to the various targets on the archery range with prizes inside. Peeta takes aim with precision and hits nearly all of them. The slips float down to the floor to be retrieved by attendants. “Bullseye! Have you been taking lessons?” I ask casually. 

“No. I just replayed what you told me in my head, and well—I wanted to impress you.” A lopsided grin sneaks across his face and he shuffles his feet.

His honesty takes me aback. He says everything in such an offhand way and I am foolish to have suspected ulterior motives. “Well...it shows, you’ve improved a lot since the other day.” 

He beams at the praise and then it’s my turn to shoot. The attendant notices that the standing balloon targets offer no challenge for me, so he releases balloons from a ceiling net I had not seen earlier. At first it seems stupid, but it turns out to be kind of fun. Much more like hunting a moving creature, albeit a slow-moving one. Since I’m hitting everything he releases, he starts increasing the number of balloons in the drop. I forget the rest of the range and this date and lose myself in the shooting. When I manage to take down all five balloons in one round, I realize it’s so quiet I can hear each prize slip hit the floor. I turn and see the majority of the people of the range have stopped to watch me. Their faces show everything from jealous to admiration, though Peeta’s face is the brightest of them all.

The attendant calls for cease fire and I retrieve my arrows and prize slips—gift cards for the Club store and café, mostly. We venture toward the cake and coffee bar set out for this event. I wrinkle my nose at the coffee but notice that they offer hot chocolate too. “Oooh, that cake looks amazing!” 

“You should have a slice, I have it on good authority that it's delicious,” he says.

He's met with a raised eyebrow.

“It's from my parent’s bakery,” he shrugs with another disarming smile. “Red velvet cake, cream cheese icing, and dark chocolate shavings on top.”

And he’s not wrong. The dark flavors burst in my mouth, sending ripple effects down my spine. The cake and hot chocolate together give me a nervous energy, propelling me toward the next steps of this date. I feel like I could run 26.2 miles now, okay maybe just a half marathon. We both finish our desserts though I have something sweeter in mind. 

“Will you walk me out to my car, Peeta?” 

Like a gentleman, he does and he waits patiently while I put up my equipment in the trunk. 

“Katniss, may I kiss you goodnight—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish because it’s me that leans in, answering his question with my own response. His lips are surprised but warm up instantly to me. His kisses are warm. His kisses leave me dizzy with want. Amazing kisses. Toe-curling kisses. I feel a swipe of his hot tongue in my mouth and I know that I need more.

He must feel the same way since he’s pulling me closer to him and kissing my jaw and neck, or what he can reach around my sweater. His body is so firm wrapped up with mine, something I’d like to explore more in private.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be goodnight,” I say to the sinking sun and feel him pause at the shell of my ear, “maybe we can—“ deep breath “maybe we could go back to my place?” 

Peeta clears his throat and meets my eyes, “Really?” His eyes cut to the parking lot, realizing that we’re still in a very public place.

“Um, yeah, I don’t live far from here and you could follow me there, if you—if you want to, that is,” I manage, though my confidence is slipping.

“Heck yeah, lead the way!” he says and grins. 

“Okay, right, well let’s go,” I say before I change my mind.

If I thought the drive over to the Club was short earlier, this one flew by, my mind racing at the scenario I’ve just proposed. We’ve made it back to my place before I can second guess myself any further. 

He parks next to me and follows me to the door, “This is a great location,” he chatters as I unlock it, “I mean, it’s a nice place too,” and then he’s scratching the back of his neck, looking around my sparse apartment.

“Well… as you know, I haven’t been in town very long and it seems like I spend most of my free time out at the Club, trying to compete for your attention with others,” I shrug. 

“Compete?“ he laughs and hides his face in his large hand for a moment. “You don’t have any competition anywhere, Katniss,” and this time, it’s him that leans in. 

Our lips have barely touched when I ask, “Couch or bed?”

He pulls back to look at me and curls that lip of his under a set of very white teeth. “Honestly, Katniss, whatever happens, you’re calling the shots.” 

“Right then, bed it is,” and I pull him into my bedroom.

We spend the next few hours teasing, tasting, and exploring as much of each other as possible since Peeta only has one condom with him. He makes it last though and thoroughly fucks me. My favorite part is probably his ass. I remember checking it out on that very first day, and it’s certainly ample to cup while trying to coax him deeper into my throat or dig my heels into it as I spur him to the orgasms that finally give our bodies peace. My mind wanders just before we drift off to sleep, I just hope he doesn’t have an early shift tomorrow.

~~~~~~

Thank you @papofglencoe for the encouragement and quick beta skills on this third part! It was fun to come out of semi-retirement!

[impaladolan]

Capture - Grayson Dolan [8/-]

summary: y/n is quick to plot revenge.. but does she get away with it..?

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, and smut :)

a/n: i seriously love you

Anonymous said:

Ooohoohohoh I’m excited for her to steal his Rolex haha omg maybe she wears it and doesn’t give him it back when he asks for it OMG u know what would be cute!! if one day she goes snooping in his bedroom and tries on his chain necklace n rings and he walks out the shower n he’s like ummmm ok ily

Anonymous said:

i want y/n to ride gray’s thigh in his office, like he’s just got in still fully in his suite w his gun on his belt and she just walks in and strips 👀👀

Anonymous said:

I have an idea hehe!! WhYi f y/n gets drunk like she f inds alcohol in graysons office or kitchen or something and shes being really bratty but it’s so cute and she’s giving him nose kissies and hugging up and telling him stuff and he’s just listening and loving her

Relaxation.

That's how you'd explain the certain state of euphoria I'm embezzled within. Young love is a treacherous trap that can either end in favor, or be torn to shreds in only mere moments. To feel so passionate and fervently invested in someone you've only ever known and loved is such a thrill, and you could never forget those memories embedded in your mind.

Like right now, laying in bed while the sun's first shine leaks through the window and gleams down upon the two of us, nuzzled under the covers. His leg was wrapped over mine and his arms hung loosely around my hips, sheltering me from ever possibly leaving his grasp. I was the first to wake, but I dared not to move an inch.

The world around me was motionless, so peaceful and calm. Nothing could bother or disrupt the atmosphere around me. Everything felt so perfect, embraced by the one I love and the man I admire. Nothing, and I mean nothing, could ever unsettle me in this moment.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself...

A darkness warped over my newly sunken eyes, shielding the world around me. I called out his name, but nothing came out. The warmth I once felt upon my body, vanished into the air and seemed like it'd never return. The world became cold and useless, all the positivity and tranquility that once surrounded me was blown away and now, I sit in darkness;

All by myself.

Him.

-

It seemed too early in the morning to be awake at such an hour, but you had crashed shortly after making it back to your room last night. You were so mortified and embarrassed, for all those men to see you so vulnerable and being punished. Though, the crazy inside you kind of liked it, but still, it pushed boundaries.

Initially, you had wanted to sleep in all day, and hopefully never leave your room ever again. Although, today's forecast decided otherwise. A ground shaking rumble of thunder made you awaken and the shoestring lighting bolts strung across the darkened sky had drawn you in. Since you essentially have no concept of time, whatsoever, you had to believe it was early in the morning, unless you really had slept in all day...

It's been presumably an hour or so since you first fluttered your eyes open. By now, you had plotted a sickening revenge to his outrageous acts he had committed only a day ago. Of course, you had created horribly ill plans that even you could never pull off. Such as vandalizing his expensive vehicles or even trashing the entire house. You had even gone as far as to planning an "accidental" fire in the kitchen.

But something inside you had put a halt to those thoughts.

Other than not wanting to be known as a malicious arsonist, you had some sort of pull towards him— but what that pull was, you couldn't figure out. The phrase; " Darling, I may be a stranger to you, but you're no stranger to me," has been left in your mind ever since the words first left his mouth. You couldn't possibly help but wonder what that even meant. You felt like you've known him from a past life somehow, and that could potentially explain the affection you have towards him. All of that aside, you have to remember that he isn't who your brain morphs him in to be. He's a felon who's abducted you and has pulled you away from society and everything you've ever been a part of.

For some reason, that's hard for you to mentally consider.

Aside from criminalizing yourself too by creating a fire or becoming a vandalizer, the best option is to state your assertiveness and trespass the "laws" that he has forbidden you ro break. Unlike yesterday's escapades of you ruining the dining room table, today you were up for higher anticipated endeavours. You had it all planned out and you knew what you'd do in order to complete your vengeances.

And he's not going to be very happy...

The atmosphere above and around you still rumbles with the loud, crackling thunder and the strikes of lightning flooding certain increments of light through the surrounding windows pave your path to the daunting door. You were still dressed in the white shirt that could barely pass as acceptable in the public eye, and your feet were frozen at the first touch of the wooden floor. You kept on like you have done in the previous times you have left your room for mischievous reasons. You silently open the door, leaving it wide open as you crept out of your assigned room and into the hallway. You knew that the very first place you would go would be the kitchen. No, you aren't creating a fire or any of the sort, but you were going to raid the fridge and have your fill with what it has to offer.

You walk straight past the opening and right into the glorious establishment of cookware, like it was your very own home and you were just up for a midnight snack. In all honesty, you could get used to living here.

If only it weren't forced onto you, that is.

Your fingertips soon collide with the long, frigid handle of the refrigerator door and pull it wide open, marveling at the large display of different beverages and foods strategically set up. Of course, it was mainly veggies and several healthy-looking meal options. Which didn't surprise you whatsoever.

He has a nice physique for a reason...

You couldn't find anything that made your stomach growl with hunger, until you opened up the freezer drawer and spotted a nice looking ice cream container. Still, it looked healthy and it'd make you all the more frozen, but it would manage to subside your aching sweet tooth for now. You pop open the lid and fish around the drawers for a utensil. With a content sigh, you plunge a huge spoonful of the solid liquid and empty it into your mouth, savoring every last flavor like it would be the last time you'd ever eat the sugary treat again. It was delicious, the absolute best ice cream you've ever devoured in the entirety of your life.

You almost ate half the jar until you decided you were parched and needed a nice drink to soothe your throat. Luckily this time you were familiar with where the glasses were kept and already had your hand wrapped around a large wine glass that was a little bit higher up than the rest of the glassware. You set it down quietly, trailing your eyes upon the clean and prim counter.

A tall, fancy upscale bottle of what looked to be whiskey was settled in the corner, nicely organized with the other alcoholic beverages that were of the same importance.

Now, you weren't exactly a "drink-whiskey-out-of-a-wine-glass" type of gal, but as they say; desperate times call for desperate measures— and you were on the search of something to loosen you up a bit, and that was that.

You brought the glass over to where you had stationed your cup, not even flinching when you uncork the liquor and pour its contents out. With improper proportioning of the said liquid, you put the whiskey back how it was.

"Fuck, here we go." You inaudibly groan to yourself, just knowing that you'll regret every decision you've made in the near future. Raising up the plum-full glass, you tip it back into your mouth and down a whole gulp.

Nasty.

It's definitely an acquired taste, but the barely detectable taste of vanilla made it hardly feasible. You dared to not put the glass down until you were finished with it and had that sour taste submitted through your fiery throat.

The least you could say was that it's pretty smooth, but not something you'd drink in your free time.

In your head, you knew you'd feel a bit wonky, considering your nearly empty stomach and your abstinence from alcohol for the last month or so. It'd be easy to feel the side effects and overall feel much better, like you were aiming for.

Once you drained the glass of every last drop, you held your breath and rushed to the sink. The overwhelming want to just regurgitate what you ingested had drawn upon you, but you refrained from doing so. Waiting out the sickly feeling, you run a bit of cold water over your hand and press it against your forehead for a moment. Everything became hot, even with the freezing temperatures, you felt like breaking a sweat.

All just the side effects of alcohol, I'm sure.

Within the passing minutes, the faintness flew away and the sounds of the thunderstorm filled your ears. A large banging of the clouds above frightened you and you knocked over the glass you had just rested your lips on.

You didn't even feel bad about all the shattered pieces on the floor, it actually brought a smile to your face and you were ready to begin the fully planned extravaganza.

First stop; his room.

You skipped back the hallway, still quiet but not as careful as before. You weren't afraid of any consequences and whatever he was going to do to you wouldn't be too harsh. It's not like he's embarrassed you enough already anyway.

You easily find his door, pushing the handle down as slow as possible, just in case he was asleep in his room. His door didn't creak as you opened it, and nor did his floorboards as you walked straight into his marvelous bedroom. It was extravagant, but yet it still felt homely. You check the bed, no sign of him or anyone for the matter. He probably at a meeting, or something.

Not that you care..

You continue your stroll, glancing around his room for anything that could spark your immediate attention, considerably his desk. It held a lot of his more—fashionably inclined belongings. Such as his masculine jewelry and expensive watches. There was even a small, purple ring that reminded you of something you had worn a long time ago. You brush that off, it brings up sore wounds from a time where you were a lot happier and everything was simpler.

I wish I could say that now..

You began to pick up the neatly placed objects, slipping a couple of heavy necklaces around your neck and the large rings upon your fingers. You laugh at the size difference of your hand and how they barely stay on your fingers.

The stationary mirror attached to the desk caught your eyes, and you begin to make funny faces at it. Which sends you into a hushed giggle fest that makes you double over in your seat. Still caught up in your laughter, you take off all of the rings, just leaving a couple on the desk and tossing a few over to his bed. You do the same with the necklaces, except for the two that you threw into one of the drawers.

That’s when your eyes caught the nice watches, stuffed in clear pouches with the brand labeled across them. Rolex is the first you saw, and the first one you picked up. You weren’t thinking clearly. Hence the reason you tore it out of it’s protective packaging and brought it up above your head, throwing it down to the ground and watching the tiny glass fragments splatter everywhere.

It’s not like he can’t buy a new one, right?

Feeling content and a little less frustrated, you left the messy scene and followed your footsteps back into the hallway. He didn't seem to hear you, so the determination to find out his name came across your mind and you became dead set on finding it, so you basically sprinted into his ominous office and delved into his comfy chair without care.

Your motor skills were altered and it seemed to take for ever to lift yourself out of the chair and tap on the computer keyboard for it to wake up. While it began its process of turning on, you led your hand down to the drawers and pulled at them. And that’s when you found the very first locked up thing in this house.

“Care to tell me what you’re doing in here darling?” His alluring voice blasted through your ears and made you leap upward. “It’s not been a day and you’re already back to being a brat?” You couldn’t see what he looked like, but his silhouette looked suited and enticing.

Very enticing, actually...

“M’trying to find out your name, Daddy.” You spoke before you could think, crossing your arms over your chest while your lips form a pout. His body leaves from the doorway, and you’re barely able to see him as he strides over towards you. Suddenly, a light flips on and you’re met with his beautiful frame, a smile daunting his face as he looks down at your innocence.

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” He moves closer, wrapping his hand under your chin while his other has his blazer hung on his finger and thrown towards his back. He looks cute in a smile, until it forms into a confused frown.

“Have you been drinking, Y/N?” Your eyes widen and you quickly nod. You knew you’d be in trouble with him anyway, so might as well be honest now. “I c-couldn’t sleep and I- I just wanted a sip of somethin’.” You shrug, looking downward as you give him an okayish explanation.

“You know what helps me sleep?” He lets your chin go, dropping his jacket and beginning to roll up his dress-shirt’s sleeves. You shake your head, chewing your bottom lip as you take in his appearance. “A nice cocksucking does.” Thunder crackles loudly outside as his husky voice deepens and makes a cool wind run down your spine.

“Then let me help you..” You wrap your arms around his neck, twisting him around and forcefully pushing him down in the chair you were once sitting in. You were about to fall to your knees to “help” him, but he pulls your hips towards him and sets you on his lap. You replace your hands around his neck, sinking your fingertips into his hair and massaging the silky softness of it. He sweetly sighs, readjusting the leg you were sat upon.

And that’s when you feel the sensation you’ve been craving for however long you’ve been here.. you think..

“M’hm, do that again..” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. He actually obliges, his brows furrowed as he watches your face contort. “Like riding my thigh, huh?” He asks as he placed his large hands around your waist. You nod, moving your hips in the same direction. You eyes shut, your head falling back a little as you smoothly move against his muscled thigh.

It felt so good, everything felt so good actually. He somehow looked so much more attractive, the beard dotting his face and his hair styled nicely. Even what he was wearing had you wanting more.

You open your eyes for a moment, watching his pleased expression as he watches you needingly thrust yourself upon his warm, clothed thigh. He even steadily lifted his knee in the correct places, aiding in the pleasure that him alone could bring you. Your eyesight seemed foggy but visible enough to see the gun at his waist side, and you almost froze when you saw it. Even in your intoxicated state of mind, you knew that just the weapon could possibly help you escape and make it back to your own home.

You didn't think it through thoroughly..

You lean in, your lips next to his ear as you practically collapse upon him, though your movements to further yourself towards releasing didn't halt. You slipped your left hand down to his waist band, sensually gliding it over his tented groin. He shutters under your touch, clearing his throat as his heads falls back slightly. As quick as your body would let you, you grab for the handle of the gun and raise it up towards his forehead, stopping all your movements and gaining his attention.

"Y/N—" He starts, gliding his hands up your bare thighs.

"Don't fucking move, or I'll— I'll shoot you." You sounded clear as day in your head, but your words became slurred as they left your mouth, and he smirked at your innocence. Just as quickly as you pulled the gun, he took it away.

He grabbed the barrel and snatched it from your grip, placing it back into its holster at his side. You yelp as he grabs your wrists, twisting them around your back and slamming you into the table with an evil chuckle. "Better keep those hands pretty little hands to yourself, princess. You're too innocent to commit murder anyway." He continues his hoarse chuckles, licking a stripe up his hand before striking your slick pussy. "D-Ahh!" You hiccup, pressing your legs as close together as you can.

“Better fuckin’ pray that you can walk tomorrow, darling...”

to be continued...

[thebadbatch]

The Bad Batch: Soft Universe

Chapter Four. Breathe. 

They had since landed at the Planet eventually, the landing being a little rough causing Wrecker to panic but it wasn't anything Omega couldn't calm down - well, attempt to anyway.

"Alright," Echo spoke as Omega held his hand,  excitement filling her smaller body rapidly. "Are you ready for your training?" She nodded quickly, a Smile covering her face.

"I can't wait!" He crouched a little to match her height, placing his free mechanical hand against her shoulder.

"Remember if it gets too much for you then you can Stop at any time! We won't be mad, Ad'ika." He recalled, Scencirity coating his voice as he smiled a little. "And how's your arm doing? Don't do anything you can't handle alright?" 

" I Promise, Echo." She gently wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly." My arm doesn't hurt anymore and my cheek is fine too! Look!" Gently she removed the two bacta Strips, showing unharmed flush skin. To her Surprise he seemed rather shocked as he used his fingertips to run them across her cheeks.

"I didn't think you had accelerated healing abilities?"

"Neither did I! Nala se never mentioned it to me anyway." The humming of the ship's mechanics filled the thought-filled Silence until Wrecker walked in, Picking Omega up with a laugh as she squealed in Surprise.

"Let's get going, Kid!" He held her gently on his shoulder with Omega gesturing toward Echo to follow them. He knew she didn't want to be too far from her brothers right now after everything that had happened. They understood and couldn't blame her, she'd been through so much hell during her short life and so far they were the only consistent and loving thing in her life - despite it being threatened Pretty much everyday.  Echo had no idea how she wasn't still sobbing or even traumatised. Sure she cried for a little but it seemed like she suppressed the rest of her tears so as to not annoy them. In all honesty he was desperate to just hold her as she felt her emotions freely with his calming and constant reassurance that they all clearly loved her and they wouldn't ever leave her. 

Wrecker placed her against the Emerald Bladed grass, her eyes filling with wonder as she slowly turned around to take in her surroundings. Giant trees filled with enchanted eden toned leaves that swayed gently side to side against the softer gusts of wind that ruffled her hair. Fluffed clouds Stretched along the horizons against a blissfully blue sky comforted by occasional bubble gum pinks and Violet haze outlining the clouds. Various species of small winged creatures sang high pitched songs 

"This..." She breathed unable to move her eyes off of some Stray leaves gliding down to reach their eternal rest upon the floor. "This is so pretty." The others chuckled at her wonder filled eyes. They see these sights constantly so the constant change of scenery never bothered them, even though most of the time it's coated in blaster fire.

"You can go sightseeing later." Crosshair mumbled, holding two blasters, his sniper still standing proudly against his back. "I want to see what you're like with a blaster." The blaster that he held soon transferred to Omega's grip, a determined gaze laid upon her face as she walked alongside him as the others stretched and lingered behind them - curious as to what her natural Skill with blasters were like due to being a clone. Finally they approached a Single tree that lay among many of its kind, the oak ripping off due to its old age. "We'll Start here." Crosshair crouched beside Omega, guiding her hands to hold the blaster Correctly and helping her aim toward the tree.

"Always keep your blaster with you." Hunter recalled, Crosshair giving a slow nod of agreement at his words. "This will be your first and final line of defence when we're not around." 

"I thought I was doing the teaching." Crosshair mumbled, signalling for Omega to crouch with him - his finger pointing toward the tree. "Shoot." He spoke, watching and waiting for the familiar blue bullet. 

"But I don't even know how to yet!" Omega retorted, holding the blaster as she was instructed, finger against the trigger. "You haven't taught me anything apart from how to hold it." 

"Shoot the tree." He replied, coldness in his voice. "You wouldn't have much time if it was an enemy, so I suggest you shoot." The reminder caused Omega to nod, shutting her eyes as she pulled the trigger, skimming the tree as it glazed through the oak leaving a permanent mark. He chuckled a little, glad she shot at least a little of the target as she opened her eyes sheepishly, instantly disappointed. 

"Don't be so disheartened, that was an amazing first shot." Echo encouraged a with smile across his face. "Not many cadets could shoot the target on their first try." Wrecker, Hunter and Tech agreed with his softer words of encouragement - contrasting clearly against Crosshair's apparent teaching methods. Cross rolled his eyes, gently  guiding her aim toward the centre of the tree before sending out a simple reminder;

"Breathe." Omega let go a breath that she didn't realize her lungs were clinging to, gripping the blaster. "Shoot."  That command lingered in her head as she took the shot that sharpened through the air and to Crosshair's prediction and the others amazement, it went straight through the centre of the tree. "Again."

Omega wasn't given much time to celebrate her shot but she understood, this was the training she had wanted. Pulling the trigger, the shot sounded and was placed neatly next to the centre of the tree.  He gazed down at her, noticing her arm had become slightly relaxed.  "It's all about the positioning of the blaster, you've relaxed your arm."  She nodded, re-tensing her arm to get the correct stance required for the centre shot. "Again."  Taking a slight Sharp inhale, she took the shot that went through the hole remaining from her first bullseye. "Soon it'll become muscle memory. Some stances you won't be able to replicate due to the possible movement of your target."

"What do I do then?" Her voice filled with a curious nature, a tone only Tech was familiar with due to her endless questions about his projects. Something that luckily he loved, answering questions was in his blood. Gazing his eyes around, he moved over and gripped a rock, tossing it in his hands a few times.

"This will do." He mumbled helping her to stand. "Moving targets are all about the positioning of your arms. I want you to tune into your instincts and use the positioning you feel will give you the killing shot." Omega softly gripped her gun with a nod. The stone that Crosshair previously held was heading toward her causing panic to strike her previously strong hold on her blaster as she dodged it. "You're too lenient with your emotions. Trust your own abilities and shoot it away." Through his words, he had picked up another small rock and tossed it toward her - the blaster shooting toward it and destroying it.

"You did it!" Wrecker beamed, clearly impressed with her new shooting skills. Omega's smile returned the warmth to Crosshair's mind as he stared at the shattered rocks scattered across the grass.

"Way to go, kid!" Echo praised, "You're a natural." Hunter and Tech smiled toward her in agreement with their brother. A Sudden cold hand was laid upon her shoulder as the other brothers gushed over their little sister's new skills. 

"There's still plenty more training to go until your skill is persistent." Omega thought over his words, eyes glued to her new blaster. The black coating had silver intertwining it, an aspect she loved to stare at.

"I understand." She seriously couldn't even try to hide her excitement over her brother's teaching actually working for her. In all honesty, she expected him to be cold and angry toward her, especially if she missed the target assigned to her. Luckily he kept his harsh cover away for her training.

"Let's go." With that, they both proceeded to continuously train with her blaster doing rather well overall. The remaining brothers decided to clean their weapons on the steps up to the Havoc Marauder, keeping an eye on the training sessions before them that lasted hours until they finally let up.

The previously blissful blue toned sky had settled into a deep orange, fire tones surrounding the dominating colour. Omega suddenly gave a quick hug to an unsuspecting Crosshair who had hesitantly accepted it, glad she felt close enough to him to do so. "Thank you for teaching me Cross, I promise to protect you." Pulling away from the hug, her childlike eyes beamed with joy and a little tiredness - her legs soon dragging her to her brothers with a hidden yawn. 

"How did it go then?" Tech gazed up from his datapad to be greeted by an overly-ecstatic Omega. "I'm assuming that the results of the training were satisfactory?" Crosshair began to chew on his toothpick, patting Omega's head in a form of praise. 

"She's a natural, only had to teach her how to stand and hide whilst blasting." He took a breath, walking into the ship in search of food, "Her aim is immaculate, we won't have to worry much in battle about her now." Despite saying that, he knew it was a lie. They'd worry about her even if she was a force-welding jedi Master - that's just what siblings do. Hunter smiled at her as he gave out his own love- filled hug, pride absolutely consuming him. 

"I bet you're tired now. Come on, let's get you something to eat." Hunter began to make his way back into the ship expecting Omega to follow him. Instead of following, She Stood fiddling with her hands.

"Actually…" Her voice filled with a questioning tone again, Hunter turning back around with his arms folded, waiting rather patiently for her question. "Can I Stay out here for a while?" He paused in thought before Techs own Voice Piped up.

"If it's any reassurance to you then I'll keep an eye on her from here. I'm enjoying the fresh air anyway and I still have work to do." Hunter smiled at his brother, thanking him for keeping an eye on her.

"Alright then - but be eating your dinner when it gets dark." Omega grinned, shouting a thank you as she ran back onto the grass, allowing the cool breezes of wind to hold her. Tech knew that this is the peace she wasn't used to but should be surrounded by - it was the calmest and happiest she had been even from first greetings on Kamino. She had soon sat upon the grass after an hour or so of exploring,  surrounded by the planet's native flowers. Her curious hands softly running against them before a melodic hum soon took her attention almost as if it was calling her away. Could it be from the plants that she touched? The white petals surrounding yellow fuzzy-like orbs could have been singing to her. Tech soon stood, walking over to her prepared to share facts with the  plants she was fascinated by. 

"Omega!" He smiled, crouching beside her as he pointed toward the plants.  "These are called Dalalians. These white petals are Present due to the centre which is a glowing orb of energy known as 'cetar'." She nodded knowingly, her fingertips once again brushing along the white petals that spun softly among her touch - glowing orbs soon floating upwards to surround her. "Don't worry, that's just the plant's pollen." 

"Why do they sing?" She asked, allowing the smaller orbs to float beside her hands reminding her of the Orange lights that filled her room. Orange tones filled her with an unknown calm and little did She know that the sky had lit up in a fiery array of orange for her.

"Sing?" He questioned rapidly typing into his datapad with a confused expression, "I'm sorry Omega but these plants don't sing." She tilted her head quizzically at his response, that melodic humming soon returning to her head causing her to look around. "Can you hear something Omega?" 

"There's this high-pitched humming, can't you hear it?" She paused, taking a breath seeming to relax into its call. "It's so pretty…" He listened for a moment before Shaking his head.

"Sorry, Miss Omega." The humming still remained in Omega's head, "I believe they may be auditory hallucinations due to you being so tired."

"Auditory hallucinations?" She echoed, the curious tone of hers finally returning to him much to his joy.

"Yes. They're Sensory perceptions of hearing in the absence of an external Stimulus and can refer to a plethora of sounds. Some can be voices which can be distinguished as auditory verbal hallucinations. These are separate from your mental process and are the most common type for people to experience." He paused seeing her worried stare. "Don't worry though. Healthy People have them too - it's normal." She shuffled in her Place a little, Sofly pushing the Orbs from the Datalions away from her skin. "Now let's go shall we?" They both stood and began walking back to the Havoc Marauder before Omega felt it getting further and further away until she stopped dead in her tracks. 

"Tech, I-" She stammered as Tech turned back around to face her before taking a sharp breath in, " I don't feel so good…" Once those words left her lips, her usual hazelnut toned eyes brightened and became a pure white tone as those orbs soon returned to surround her prescience.

"Hunter- Something's Wrong!" He yelled into his comm causing all of her brothers to exit the ship - instantly spotting her. 

"Omega!" Hunter yelled, rushing toward her before getting close enough to reach out for her before some kind of Force prevented him pulling her into his arms and instead it threw him and Tech back into the ground by their Ship.

"What the Kriff is happening?" Wrecker yelled, unsure if he should wait for it to end or just blast the orbs that he thought were threatening his little Sister. Tech groggily Stood, rapidly typing into his datapad desperate for some kind of answer to what was happening. No answers or results were given though which was absolutely unacceptable to him. He had the answers for everything - So why not this? That melodic humming that had previously comforted Omega became louder into a beautiful higher- pitched hum, almost like singing.

"I dont- I dont know." Tech responded, not the response Hunter had wished for before running back Over toward her as the orbs began to hispurse, laying her in Hunter's arms before completely dispersing. Holding her tightly, he checked both her breathing and her purse which were both there and prominent to his glee. The land had fallen Silent as he rushed her back into the Ship. Shutting the doors as his brothers followed - all equally concerned. Laying her down against the table he spoke grateful her eyes opened revealing that well-loved Hazelnut tone.

"Breathe."

[snowbellewells]

CSSS20 Fic: “One Little Ray of Hope”

Merry Merry Christmas @let-it-raines!!! Can you believe we ended up being each other’s Secret Santas?!?  It was all I could do not to spoil the surprise yesterday when you posted your amazing story gift for me, but here I am finally with yours in return, and I truly hope you will enjoy it.

You mentioned that you like friends-to-lovers and mutual pining, which I genuinely tried to do to the best of my ability. However, I discovered neither of those things are actually types of fic I have done much.  This comes out more like bantering crushes, and Emma-in-denial-finally-admitting-what-everyone-else-already-knows. I did set it in the Enchanted Forest for you, and I tried to mix in the humor and the feels so it has a bit of everything. And there are Christmas touches but it isn’t holiday overwhelming. I got to the stopping place I envisioned though, and it just wasn’t enough. I hope you will forgive me if I say this is only Part One and there will be a Part Two coming shortly once the holiday hoopla dies down. (In all honesty, I was anxious that my story was for you - I love your writing so much, and I am not at all sure this measures up! And then I read your gift and was even more blown away.)  Still, here’s hoping this brings a smile to a shipmate like you who has been so friendly and kind and made me smile with your writing all year long!  Part Two - and hopefully some fic cover art - to follow soon!)

“One Little Ray of Hope”

by: @snowbellewells

               Though the fire in the stone hearth was blazing merrily, the lights from their lamps combatted the dark sky and frigid wind blasting flurries of snow outside their windows, and the jovial voices of many of their regulars mingled on the air to make things cozy inside the little inn and tavern, Emma Swan still shivered at the winter's chill. There, was some hint of frost that wouldn't go away, forming small icy crystals inside her chest - one particular voice that always stood out from the rest to her ears, was missing. She cursed herself for noticing, cursed him for being so unmistakable, and slammed an empty tankard onto her tray as she cleared the just-vacated table more violently than she had meant to.

               Naturally Ruby would be passing by just then, on her way to wait on some exuberant new arrivals, and she playfully arched one of her dark brows with a teasing smirk. "Looks like someone's a little frustrated this evening."

               From over her shoulder, where Emma hadn't even realized anyone was nearby, Tink tittered with a playful little giggle to Ruby, "Well, you know, we do seem to be short some of Emma's favorite guests this evening…" pirate was not her special anything. Honestly, she was just tired, overworked, overheated, and ready for some fresh air away from the evening crowd. It didn't have anything to do with the fact that Captain Killian Jones, with his unfairly blue eyes and his stomach-flipping accent wasn't here pestering her and getting in her way. What did she care if his farewell to her before he set sail nearly two months' back was that he would return in time for the Yuletide festivities? False hope and nonsense, all of it anyway…

               And yet… tomorrow was Christmas day, her traitorous mind whispered as she plunked her heavy tray of dishes on the counter where the Widow Lucas - the proprietor of their inn, and 'Granny' to all of them - was serving up orders and Ashley was doing dishes as fast as she could to serve warm bread and hearty stew on them once more. Again, her approach was none too gentle, as she huffed out a breath of air and pushed her hair from her face impatiently.

               "Careful there, my girl. Any dishes you break will be comin' from your pay," the widow threatened idly. Granny put on a tough front - one had to in a rough and tumble harbor town - and she meant business if she had to bring out her crossbow from where she kept it close to hand beneath the counter, but she was a soft heart beneath the necessary bluster and hard shell. She loved all "her girls" and most of her patrons dearly, wanting them to know they were welcome and cared for in her inn - and while many like she and her granddaughter had little in the way of blood-related family, she aimed to give them a feeling of home in her place.

               Emma smiled slightly, acknowledging Granny's words without comment, despite knowing the older woman would do no such thing. She unloaded the dirtied tankards and bowls more carefully into the soapy water for Ashley and forced herself to draw a couple of deep breaths as Granny loaded her up with the next order.

               Just as Emma moved to lift the tray and move off again, Granny placed her own hand over Emma's kindly, keeping her there until Emma met her eyes. "Don't let Ruby irk you. She means no harm," was the quietly offered advice, to which Emma nodded sagely, already knowing as much. It was only when Granny winked and added, "Of course, if you're awaiting some handsome sailor, I wager he'll be here soon," that Emma let out an exasperated huff and spun away to the sound of her boss and pseudo-grandmother's laughter at her back. Shaking her head, she seethed, 'Everyone thinks I'm waiting for Jones…. Well, I'm not!'

               The night went on without much further interruption; the snow fell in continued flakes, swirled and eddied by the window and pilling up on the windowsills. Inside their crowded tavern, however, the cozy warmth continued to rise right along with the songs and laughter of those gathered within. Soon Emma found her face flushed, cheeks pinked from the heat and close quarters. Even as the gathered crowd began to dwindle, slowly trickling out the door and homeward in twos and threes, as she, Ruby, Tink, and Ashley began to wipe down empty tables and see to storing up leftover food and seeing drinks stoppered and sealed for the night. Granny had gone upstairs nearly an hour before as the midnight hour had come and gone, claiming her old bones needed the rest, and Mulan, who did not appear the musical type, but who had once confessed when more than a bit tipsy on dwarf mead that her parents had seen that she was learn all sorts of marriageable skills in the hopes of seeing her matched with a smart, dashing husband before she had left hoe to make her own way - had switched from plunking out bawdy sea shanties and reels for the gathered revelers and lighting begun pecking out chords to a few softer and slower Yuletide carols as a background accompaniment to the cleaning and the quieter murmurs of those who still lingered in conversation over their last drinks.

               Not long after, Ruby silently slipped out the kitchen exit in back with the solemn huntsman who came every night to break bread and drink not at all other than to drink in her presence and bask in her company had stood and followed her like a silent shade as she beckoned from the doorway. Ashley had headed upstairs herself for some rest in her own apartments, as had Tink, saying the last town gazette's gossip section was calling her name. Mulan had paused at the door before heading to her own house a couple streets over, telling Emma she would make rounds of the block first, to see that all stragglers had gone home, and no trouble was lingering about them before she left.

               Emma thanked the beautiful warrior sincerely, knowing that it was no more or less than the other woman did every night, determined that these friends who took her and all others at face value, welcoming all lost and weary travelers without trying to change them were safe and secure. She would see no harm come to the Widow Lucas and her adopted "sisters" on her watch; Emma knew Mulan took that charge upon herself as a sworn duty. The rest of them would never have put such weight on her shoulders, but each one of them also slept easier knowing Mulan was nearby. The slim build, shining curtain of silky black hair and delicate features could have long ago earned Mulan the hand of any prince, pirate, or nobleman who laid eyes on her, but those physical attributes all deceptively hid her strength, speed, and core of deadly steel if anyone threatened harm to those she loved.

               "We'll be alright," Emma assured again, as Mulan bid her goodnight. "Everyone was in good spirits this evening. No fights, no trouble. Please rest easy once you get home. I can't imagine anything should happen until we see you again tomorrow."

               "As you say," the raven-haired woman replied simply, and with a slight dip of her head in a bow, she turned and slipped into the night with such soundless agility and grace that she seemed to melt into the darkness - unseen in mere seconds.

               Closing the door at last, Emma latched it securely, making certain the tavern and rooms above were locked properly for the night. She then began to move about the large, open main room, blowing out the candles still left aglow on scattered tabletops and snuffing out the wall sconces as well as she made a final pass around the main space. At last her final chores were complete, one last lit candle in her hand as she stood before the front window, looking down the moonlit street toward the docks for a moment longer. Captain Jones and his crew had yet to be seen in town, and while she could tell the others she didn't care - could even tell herself that in the light of day - here alone in the silent frosty night, Emma couldn't help wondering where he might be, and if he were well.

               "Jones, if you're out there," she murmured, hoping only the snow and ice and the Christmas star would hear her, "Take care or yourself… and be safe 'til we meet again."

               She had crossed the darkened room, placed her hand on the stair rail and was on the first step up to the second floor, when she heard the lightest rapping at the side door into the alley. Pausing there, Emma held her breath, listening uncertainly for the knock again, hardly daring to hope. She only had her candle in hand, the shadows long around her. Were Ruby and her huntsman still outside keeping each other warm despite the winter's chill? Could there be a prowler who had lain in wait until their self-appointed guardian had left for the night, or might it be the visitor she had been promised? The face she had looked for in anticipation every time the inn's door had opened to welcome a new patron that night? She would deny it to anyone, but those dark brows arched up into his windswept hair in challenge or jest, over eyes as blue as his beloved ocean, had been sorely missed; she had hoped to see him home again for Christmas more than she wanted to allow herself.

               She drew nearer to the side entrance, not wishing to give any her presence if the person on the other side bore ill intent, but straining to hear all the same; seeking some sign she was right and to confirm the feeling she had about who awaited on the other side. Gathering her courage, Emma reached for the fireplace poker beside the large stone hearth. Its embers were now dead for the night, but only a short while ago it had been blazing hotly, heating the entire space. She was not some frightened child at any rate; she'd hold her own against any intruder if the opened door led to a nasty surprise.

               Sure enough, the rapping came again, more firmly and with the added hushed entreaty, "Swan? Are you still about, Lass? Emma Swan! It's Captain Jones if you're still about and wish to see your sailor!"

               Her concerns brushed aside at the tones of that voice she could not mistake, Emma let the metal of her makeshift weapon clatter against the stone as it dropped from her fingers. With an exuberant little cry, she was at the door and lifting the latch in a second. The candle in her hand flickered and nearly went out with the stunned breath that left her upon glimpsing his handsome form once again after so long away.

               To his credit, Jones didn't tease; instead looking rather stunned himself as his gaze appeared busy drinking her in as well. Soon, he slipped inside out of the blustery chill and, seeing that her hand holding lighted taper was shaking considerably, he took it from her with care and reached to light the nearest sconce, casting their immediate surroundings with enough warm glow by which to see.

               Finally, she regained enough of her faculties to speak, and Emma stuttered, "It seemed you were not coming, Captain. Ruby mocked me all day for my foul temper and Tink joined in of course to say it was due to my missing and certain pirate and his crew. The busybodies!" she scoffed. But then she reached across the space between hem to catch his hand. "I did worry you might have been arrested, or hurt, or wrecked…or lost…any number of things. Or perhaps I gave you no clear assurance, and instead you had moved on, not to return."

               Killian shook his head just barely, looking troubled that she could even think he would abandon or fail her so easily. "Hardly Lass," he stated fervently, a sort of fiery glow in his eyes she had not seen before. I did say I would return by Yuletide, did I not? A pirate I might be, but I still have my honor.  It would take more than the increased vigilance of the Evil Queen and her forces to keep me away."

               Emma sucked in a worried breath at the cause of his delay. They all hoped to keep far under the notice of the usurper monarch - as cold and cruel as she was darkly attractive, she would end a life as easily as snapping her fingers, and at the slightest provocation, real or imagined. Life had been all the harder and more fraught with danger since Regina had wrested the crown from her kind and gentle stepdaughter Snow White, the rightful heir to the crown. If Killian were wanted by Queen Regina and had snuck back into her borders only to keep his promise, Emma could not bear to consider what would happen if he were discovered.

               Now was the moment of truth, before anymore needless time slipped past. It was time she told him what she had realized while no teasing friends or rowdy onlookers were listening in. "I missed you," she finally managed to croak out around the lump in her throat. "Thank you… Killian…for keeping your word."

               He dipped his head to look into her eyes where she had dropped her gaze to her feet. A strong, calloused hand, warm and gentle in its intent, tipped her chin back up to stare into his searching gaze. "Of course, Swan - Emma. All I could have wished for this holiday was…" he paused, his tongue darting out to wet his lips nervously and a hand coming up to worry the spot behind his ear - gesture she had long ago noticed signified nervousness. But he plunged on determinedly, "was to see you again, to see you and give you this."

               Pulling a small pouch from some inner pocket of his long leather jacket, he held it out to her with sparkling eyes, appearing almost boyish for a moment in his eagerness to see her open his gift, and whispering "Happy Christmas, Emma," as he placed it in her upturned palm.

               Emma's mouth formed a surprised "O", having not expected or hoped for anything more than his safe return. Opening the ties, she tilted the soft material until the item within spilled out in her hand. Holding up a long, golden chain with an exquisite stone of lovely pale green, near to jade in color, swinging from it, she was enchanted by the pendant he had brought her. "Oh, it's gorgeous," she breathed, rather stunned at how nice the piece of jewelry was.  She wore (or even owned, to be honest) little of such finery.

               "It's sea glass," Killian explained, taking the piece back in nimble fingers when she offered it, then turned, lifting her long hair so he could place the chain around her neck and fasten it for her. "Though sailors believe sea glass is good luck, that it keeps the wearer safe, and I would always wish you to be so, I knew it had to be yours because of the color. It reminded me vividly of your eyes…" Though the necklace was secured, his fingers still grazed featherlight along her skin, causing prickles of awareness to course throughout her body, and his own voice had turned decidedly husky.

               At last, Emma turned to face him once more, breaking the trance between them, but needing to thank him, and for him to see how touched she was by his gift, even if her voice was breathless and her words trembled with emotion. "I don't know what to say. You shouldn't have, but I adore it all the same. I'll treasure it, Killian. Truly." And without further hesitation or pausing to think and second guess, Emma threw her arms around him, squeezing him tightly to her. "Thank you," she whispered against his chest, breathing in the salty, spicy essence of him and nuzzling against his chest. She realized with a force that almost knocked her off her feet that she never wanted to let go.

               She felt Killian Jones' fingers thread through her hair, stroking gently, reverently as they stood there wrapped up in each other, swaying slightly in the candle glow and the howl of the wind outside. Emma felt they might indeed stay that way forever, and that neither of them would mind at all, until more rapid knocking interrupted their silent moment. The door handle rattled urgently, and she heard a nervous voice she recognized as Killian's first mate's speaking in hurried words. "Cap'n, you told me to summon you when an hour had gone. I've already seen one patrol of black guard go by. If they notice the Jolly in the harbor…"

               "Aye, Smee," he gritted out, stopping the anxious flow of words. "Head back and make ready to sail. I'll follow in a moment."

               He sighed as he turned back to Emma, tracing his thumb over the apple of her cheek and pausing to caress the dimple in her chin as he cradled her face in his hand.

               "You have to go," she acknowledged reluctantly; hating it, but understanding and wanting to see him safe, just as he did her. Her words were wistful, wishing he could stay there with her - or that she could run away with him - but it was too much, too quickly, no matter how she dreaded being parted again so soon.

               "I must, for now," he affirmed, the regret lacing every syllable of his words. "But I hope that now you know I will return."

               She nodded mutely, her mind trying to memorize every detail of his face, his voice, his touch, until she could see him again. "And I will be here waiting for you," she promised with equal intent.

               Bending slightly, Killian brushed his lips against her cheek, his stubble tickling her skin and again making her shiver at the sensation. It was the lightest and most gallant of kisses, and yet it only served to make her burn for more - for him to take her in his arms, for those firm lips to kiss her everywhere, for him to take her to her own apartments, or back to his cabin. It would keep her burning for however long they might be kept apart.

               As he had to leave, heading out again into the dark night, Emma stood at the door watching until the very second his vanished from her sight, no longer able to deny how anxiously she would await his return.

[asheelnair]

PERSONAL BLOG :-)

 Asheel Nair (Me18b101)

Course - MS4100 ( Soft skills)

First of all thanks Viji Ma'am to teach this wonderful course and making me understand and help me to grow and realize my skills that will help me personally as well as in professional growth.

1)   Meaning and Purpose 

 It was a very great session to attend as it gave a lot of insights about life and insisted us to find our true worth and value of life in this world.

There is a statement which touched me very much- “Ultimately, man should not ask what the meaning of his life is, but rather must recognize that it is he who is asked. In a word, each man is questioned by life; and he can only answer to life by answering for his own life; to life he can only respond by being responsible.”

We are all hungry for meaning, for purpose, for the feeling that our life is worth more than the sum of its parts. We can find meaning in the sublime, in the absurd, in the dull and dreary, and in the perfectly wretched in life. That's when Viji came up with the word 'ikigai'- Combining the Japanese words iki, meaning life and gai, meaning value or worth, ikigai is essentially about finding your purpose in life.  for exampe- Ikigai means “the reason you wake up for in the morning”

Then Viji told us to write our purpose of life in our book :-

What i love most- Video Games, family, friends, dogs

What i am good at - Maintaining relations, consulting

What can i get paid for - Consulting job or maybe some unexplored fields(who knows xD)

what the world needs- world is selfish and everyone wants profit in each and everything they do, the current world needs humanity and needs to develop a sense of empathy and helping nature.

Always know your true worth and realize it because it is only you know your true worth and value and always be grateful for who you are.

2) The '5S' principle 

:- It was the first time i came across this principle and trust me it was worth it :)

What are the 5 principles of 5S?

 5S stands for the 5 steps of this methodology: Sort, Set in Order, Shine, Standardize, Sustain. 

5S is designed to decrease waste while optimizing productivity through maintaining an orderly workplace which will help you bring positive thinking and productive solution.

Application - I applied this principle in my room which was dirty and messes up. I cleaned everything and kept everything in a proper way. After implying this principle it felt very comforting and nice.

3) Time-Management 

 It is one of the crucial factors to live a peaceful life without any tension and stress. The person who has time management skills are very calm and comforting and always live a peaceful life. Everyone has the same 24 hours, however, some make better use of their time than others. This is one of the reasons why we have people who excel at the things they do. In other words, people may become busy; but that necessarily does not mean they are effective at their task. Hence, time management plays a crucial role in personal and professional life.

 Time management may be a conscious effort to spend a selected amount of your time to perform a task efficiently . Furthermore, productivity is the key focus here. The more productive the work, the higher are the results. Moreover, time management requires a careful balancing between business life , social life, the other hobbies or activities. From an academic perspective, time management is a necessity. Students have many subjects to hide , therefore, efficiently managing time is a crucial skill.

The main problem we all face is the lack of time. Having so many things to do and yet not enough time to do them all. Through my conversations with many, I realized that I was not the only one facing this issue. This was when I realized sharpening my activity management skills becomes important. Though many people may call it ‘time management, I believe activity management is a better term because we can’t manage time but we can manage our activities each day. The reality is many people drift through life and allow themselves to be carried by the waves. We all have a choice to take control of our activities and reach our fullest potential. 

so use your time wisely by sorting important things first by realizing the importance of time in your life and seeing the benefits of time management.

As it is said " Time and Tide wait for none" , make sure you make each and every second count and create a change for a greater tomorrow.

I even talked with few people who I believe is very efficient in time management and asked them their secret mantra :P , example - My friend :-

– All good things take time and so does your goal, some achieve goals faster while some take their time.  You need to be vocal and loud about your goal, aim and thoughts. Always have a positive mindset and be ready to face any challenges thrown at your goals. You should always be open minded and appreciate every small thing that makes you reach your goal. She thinks that the importance of setting goals comes with maturity and responsibility and you need to figure out what things comes first in your life.

4) Strength based Learning - All the above factors can be included while finding about our personal strength based learning. sit down for few minutes and think about your strengths and weaknesses. For me-Strengths-based learning involves a process of assessing which helps us to identify our greatest talents, and to then develop and apply strengths based on those talents in the process of learning, intellectual development, and academic achievement to levels of personal and professional excellence.

As it is said " champions are not born they are trained and nourished with care to become a champion", Skills do not naturally exist within us; they must be acquired through training and practice. The concept of strengths is based in each individual’s unique nature and building upon what he or she naturally does best. Takeaway-After this session  I realized I have strengths with which I can create a change for better tomorrow and life is too long to explore, learn and develop. I would always like to explore my strengths and work on it and inspire others to play on their strengths. Thanks Viji for this wonderful session :)

5) Communication  

It is something because of which I faced conflicts in past, For me -signaling benevolence in communication seems vital than harsh-naked truth as it can sometimes product in fright, strain or spite in developing long-lasting relationships with family or at workplace. Blunt honesty can sometimes be rebellious whereas benevolence aids in handling difficult situations ethically by breeding trust and in boosting one’s morale. It enables one to be mindful of consequences and frame things in a way that is different from complete unvarnished truth- which in turn fosters relationships and other developments.

Thanks to Abha ma'am and Viji ma'am to take up this session and making it a wonderful experience. Salute to both of you for your professionalism and are dedicated to your work, was truly amazed to see this.

Presentation- The three 's' -structure, style and substance were covered in this. There were many other factors that were taught which helped me to learn, incorporate those and make my skills even stronger. Learned a lot on how to communicate, make a presentation and how to present yourself in front of people, all thanks to Abha ma'am.

Assertive Communication - Assertiveness means expressing your point of view in a way that is clear and direct, while still respecting others. Communicating in an assertive manner can help you to: minimize conflict. The 3 C's Of Assertive Communication are Confidence – you believe in your ability to handle a situation. Clear – the message you have is clear and easy to understand. Controlled – you deliver information in a calm and controlled manner. Passive communication and behavior involves allowing your own rights to be violated by failing to express honest feelings, thoughts, and beliefs, or by expressing your thoughts and feelings in an apologetic manner that others can easily disregard.

Few steps for assertive communication :

1.Tell the person what you think about their behavior without accusing them. 

2. Tell them how you feel when they behave a certain way. 

3. Tell them how their behavior affects you and your relationship with them. 

4. Tell them what you would prefer them to do instead.  

6) Self Realization

This was a very good session and topic. During the first 5 min we were told to take out a mirror or front camera and look yourself in it for few minutes and write down whatever comes into your mind. when i saw myself i could see that there is a fire burning within myself that want's to achieve each and every goal, I realized i will soon conquer each and every challenges in my way and make my parents and myself proud.

 Then we came on the topic of 

 Body shaming :

   It is something that i feel is cheap and very immature. Without knowing what the other person is going through people criticize them and laugh at them. Individuals with a history of trauma, depression, self-harm, low self-esteem, or borderline personality disorder are more likely to be affected by body shaming and potentially develop an eating disorder or engage in self-harm behavior.

 Empowerment doesn’t just refer to professional success and financial stability but also the overall personality development of an individual. Empowering yourself requires you to confront your problems but not bow down to them. It involves you being open to changing your views based on your own personal experience. Hence, if you’re not changing and sticking to what you’ve been told by society, you’re keeping yourself away from empowerment.

 When it comes to our views, we have plenty of them pertaining to our own selves. A majority of them are concerned with how we look. From television to magazine, most women have grown up being told that the perfect girl is slim, fair, humble, docile and quiet.

But, what about those women who are plus-sized, have a deformity, have too many tattoos or are too outspoken? The society might not find them palatable enough to call them perfect but who gave society that right, anyway? The only person who gets to decide is you. You need to shed societal expectations and accept every bit of yourself.

Takeaway - Don't live by fearing of someone's judgement, Everyone has a beautiful body on this planet, all are different that is the beauty of this world. "Embrace it don't hide it"

Snake and Ladder in our life :-

Ladder here refers to all the supports in your life who encourage you to achieve something great in your life while snake refers to all the challenges that is stopping you to achieve your goals.

Ladder and goals - 

 Family, friends and dear ones

Get into a dream company that recognizes my     talent and reach a good position where one day i can become a leader

Want to buy a luxurious home to my parents and     want to give them everything whatever they ask for

Buy a dream car

Building shelter homes for animals

Do something for orphans and rural people

Reach at a height where i become a role model     for few

Build a dream  PC gaming set-up, xD 

Want to travel the world (each and every     corner)

Want to learn calisthenics

And many more.............  :P

 Snakes -

Negative people

Procrastination. “I will do it later” is often     equivalent to “I will never do it,” though that is never the real     intention behind procrastinating something

Fear of Failure

Ignorance

Lack of Purpose

Lack of Courage

Fault Finding

Lack of Self-belief             Takeaway -

[xpearlshippingx]

Day 4: Relationships

Sorato Drabbles

So this post by @cassandrasorato came up in my recommended post and I could not resist. It a few years late but hey better late than never right?

https://cassandrasorato.tumblr.com/post/112860214739/some-scenes-i-would-love-to-see-in-tri

(5) Prompt : Sora was targeted by an evil Digimon and he was worried he was gonna lose her. Set during Tri Loss

Sparing a glance at the exhausted boy behind him, Yamato slow his step

“ Shall we take a break ?”

Koushiro gave a tired smile in reply “ might be a good idea ... “

“ If we can’t find the others soon, we have to find somewhere to camp for tonight ...”

A shimmer distracted him mid-sentence and what he saw paralyze him. He prides himself as someone who quite brave, after all, not many things can faze him (except ghost story ) but the sight of Sora running toward Gennai and Mugendramon frighten him more than he likes to admit

His leg moves before he even finishes processing and he found himself in front of the distortion

“ Don’t be stupid !” He shouted, pounding on the distortion, wanting to get through. The distortion remains shut, only infuriating him

“ Run away ! “ he added when Sora throws a rock at Gennai. What was she thinking? He doesn't see Piyomon with her, even if Piyomon is with her, the Bird Digimon can’t even evolve now! Don’t she know she is defenseless?

His ponding get more desperate when Sora was tackle to the ground “ Sora! get your hand off her !”. He barely registered a hand gently stopping his ponding and a voice timidly call out “ I don’t think pounding gonna work, Yamato. I will try to find a way to get through the distortion “

He hit the distortion one more time in frustration. Damn it! is there nothing he can do? Can he only watch her being in danger? Will he lose her?

He stumbles when for some strange reason, the distortion let him through and he almost landed face-first on the ground. When he got his bearing, he saw the rest of his friend going through the distortion as well but this wasn’t his main concern for the moment

Mugendramon was aiming it cannon straight at Sora, it was still charging up at the moment but once it ready ...

“ Gabumon petite fire !”

It was a risk sending a Child Digimon against an ultimate, he knows it but it a risk he had to take. Across from him, Gabumon look bewildered by his request and he gives his partner a reassuring nod

More confident, the Reptile Digimon charge, leaping into the air just as Mugendramon fire it Mugen Cannon. A hot stream of blue fire merge with Agumon's red hot fire and clash with the ultimate attack midway.

An explosion occurs and Yamato shielded his eye. When he opened his eye again after the dust clear, he was relieved to see Sora unscattered

Moving on instinct, he stood protectively in front of the girl

“ Taichi ... Yamato “

Meeting her ruby eye, many things threaten to escape from his lip. Ranging from “You idiot “to "Don’t scare me like that ever again “but only one sentences mange to get past his lip

“ Don’t push yourself “

~

(4) Prompt : the band, school, different assignments on saving Digital World that he can’t get to see Sora much. Set during Tri Determination, a little different from the prompt

Yamato lost count of how many nights he spent practicing with his new bandmates for the school festival tomorrow

“ Shall we call it a night guy ?” Tomoki call out after their latest run through “ we need some rest for tomorrow “

The rest of his members mumble their agreement and begin to pack the equipment. Keeping his guitar back in its case, he was secretly relieved, the long night every day was starting to get to him

“See ya tomorrow “ his bandmates call as they leave one by one till he was the only one left in the practice room. He took a look at his phone, 930 PM .... slinging his guitar over his shoulder he heads out, locking the door behind him

~

“ Soraaa “

“ Yes, Piyomon? “ Sora reply trying her best not to snap. It wasn’t the poor bird fault she was in a foul mood but the endless assignment is starting to get on her nerve, add in the pressure of the new infected Digimon issues, it no wonder she didn’t crack yet

“ Do you need a drink ?” Piyomon ask cautiously but the subtle worry in her partner voice didn’t escape her

Giving a strained smile, she shut the book she currently revising, maybe she should take a little break “ that sound good “

Her eye following as her partner hop to the kitchen. Her mind, not consume by assignment for once, drifted into someone ... Yamato ... she misses him.

They been so busy with school lately that they hardly get to see each other besides class and the occasional Digimon fight which doesn’t really count ... they are not drifting apart, are they?

She sighs... she really misses him ... she missed how he will usually keep her accompany during a stressful time like this, she missed how he never fails to make her laugh between the long hour of study

A doorbell pulls her out of her thought and she peeks at her phone. 950 PM...Who could it be so late at night?

She stood up and make her way to the door. What greeted her when she unlocks the door was the sight of Yamato with his guitar and she freezes, hardly believing the scene

“ Yamato ?“

It came out more of a question than a greeting. The boy flick his eye toward her, a soft and sheepish smile begin to spread on his lip

“ Sora ... sorry I drop by so late “

“Doesn’t matter ... I miss you “

“I miss you too .. that why I came after practice “ the gentle confession send her head racing like it always did. It beat harder when the blond embraces her. Being in his embrace after so long felt comforting ... familiar like it where she belongs and she relishes in it

A gasp makes them break away from the embrace sooner than she would have liked. Whirling around, she saw Piyomon fail attempt of trying to be casual, peeking from the kitchen doorway

“ Piyomon “

“ Don’t mind me “ the Bird Digimon chirp, covering her eye with her wing” you can kiss if you want to “

~~

*Extra: some Piyomon and Yamato cause this scene in tri is just :) set after they started dating in 02

A soft tap at the door breaks his concentration and he misses the last note. He looks up, miffed, he was so close to nailing the song this time

When he comes face to face with an unexpected guest, his annoyance turn into bewilderment

“ Piyomon?” He utter, quickly putting his guitar aside and let the pink bird in. Piyomon strolls in and he glances behind the Digimon, expecting Sora to be behind her. When no one follows Piyomon in, he asks “ where Sora? Did something happen during tennis practice ?”

Piyomon must have caught on to this slight distress and assure him “ she fine, she still at tennis practice. I just need to talk to you alone “

Knowing the girl is safe, he was relieved. Instead, his curiosity piqued. What was Piyomon doing out here alone without Sora? What did they even have to talk about?

“What are you doing out here alone? Sora will be worried if she finds out “

“ It fine, I will go straight home after we talk “ the Child Digimon waves him off. Pointing toward the guitar at the side, she added teasingly “ writing a cheesy love song for Sora?”

“ No ! I wouldn’t do that “ he snapped, hoping his face doesn’t betray him, Piyomon only smile knowingly

“ Sit “

He raised his eyebrow as Piyomon instructed him to sit, motioning toward the couch in the practice room. Who was she to command him? She does know that this was his practice room right? but the serious look make him decide not to question the Digimon and complied with the request

There was silence as Piyomon study him as if pondering over something and he didn’t dare to interrupt her. With each second that pass, the tension, and awkwardness only grew ... where was Gabumon when you need him?

“ You and Sora are dating now “ Piyomon finally break the silence “ which mean you have the power to hurt her “

Suddenly, the purpose of this visit was becoming clear to him “ I wouldn’t hurt her! She... “

“ I’m not done “

A wing was thrust to his lip and he fell silent. Seriously since when was the affectionate Digimon so intimidating?

“ As Sora number one partner, it is my duty to protect her “

“ That debatable “ he can’t help cutting in almost childishly, he was Sora number one partner now. Piyomon seem to pick up on his thought and flap her wing challengingly

“ I am! and that not up for debate !”

He grumbles but let the subject drop for now. After all, He at a disadvantage since she could split out flames

“ Anyway, Gabumon talks highly of you and I think you are a good guy too Yamato. I don’t think you will do anything to upset her but we need to get somethings straight “

He could only nod dumbly, not knowing what else to response

“We both know she likes to bottle up her feeling and keep her problem to herself. She worries more about other than herself and doest take care of herself as much as I want her to ... that why you need to be there for her, assure her it ok to lean on someone too “

“ Always”

“ Just one more thing, treat her with the honesty and respect she deserves and DONT HURT HER”

The Bird Digimon emphasizes the last three words, leaning in the whole time till she was right in his face, her beak barely touching his nose. He back away only to hit the back of the couch

“ She is my favorite person in the world Yamato and I will protect her. You know how powerful I can be ... I might not achieve my ultimate yet but trust me, if I ever find out you hurt her, I will fight MetalGarurumon to get to you “

Just like that, the typical cheerful and friendly expression had returned to the Child Digimon as if the talk didn’t happen. Hopping down, Piyomon head for the exit, calling out brightly “ I will be heading home now and oh Sora doesn’t need to know about this talk”

[stydiaeverafter]

Two Ships in the Night

Tyler-Kennedy Strand and Carlos Reyes come from two different worlds. But what happens during one particular night, will change the course of their lives forever. It was written in the stars.

Written for @911lonestarweek Day 3 - Alternate Universe (AU) 

Read on ao3

Tyler-Kennedy was a very rich man and came from a very powerful line of Strands. But all the money in the world couldn’t buy happiness. Every day was the same. His servants woke him up. They got him dressed. They made his meals. And then he would be on his way dealing with one social event after another.

This wasn’t what he called happiness.

One night as he was walking solemnly on his beautiful grounds, he decided to take a walk deeper in the forest. He didn’t usually go without a companion, but he was feeling as though he just wanted to run away from it all.

It started off as walking but soon changed into a run. He didn’t know where he was going but it didn’t matter. Tyler was ready for an adventure, or a new life.

***

“How did you find the gold?”

“Did the wench have it after all?”

Carlos Reyes smiled as he put his black muddy boots up on the table, “A gentleman never exposes his secrets.”

“Good thing you ain’t no gentleman!”

“Don’t make me cut out your tongue,” Carlos whispered, his eyes narrowing.

Everyone in the tavern went quiet, but then they burst out laughing.

“What will you do with it?”

“The gold?” Carlos asked. When the men nodded excitedly, he smiled in return, “Well, give it to the poor of course. I’m tired of the rich taking over our land. We’re the ones that work it and take care of it. Meanwhile, they eat their fancy dinners and dance their ridiculously overdone balls. Enough is enough.”

They all whooped and cheered, chugging for their mugs.

Carlos looked out the window above the candlelight and saw the storm was starting to pick up. The wind was bellowing. He wouldn’t want to be a soul dealing with such a beast.

Just then, the doors of Hog’s Wallow opened up with a bang!

Everyone looked in the direction of the sound. There was a man standing with a cloak and hood on. Carlos couldn’t make out his face. But he didn’t seem to recognize the man from the stance.

Finally, the man revealed his face and Carlos inhaled deeply. “My God…” he whispered, for he had never seen such a handsome man in all the land. He sat up as if that would grasp the man’s attention.

He was just so beautiful with his long blonde hair and what looked like blue-green eyes. But Carlos also had to take notice that he wasn’t dressed like any peasant.

No, this man was all but royalty.

Change of plans. It was now a game of cat-and-mouse. His night was looking better already.

***

Tyler-Kennedy didn’t plan on going into this small town at all. His plan was to stay on the outside and look in at life he would never know. But fate, in the face of the weather, told him otherwise.

So he arrived without so much as a hesitation into the first place he could find. The tavern was warm and quaint but smelled heavily of the drink.

“Well, hello there,” a strong pleasant voice said. Tyler looked over and his breath came to a halt within his chest. “And may I inquire for a name?”

The man before him was so beautiful, that he forgot how to think. His skin was silk and dark, the curls on his head were as black as night, he had brown eyes that you could spend an entire century looking within, and he had thick broad shoulders covered with a tannish shirt opened at the neck, chest hair revealed. It made desire bloom within his chest.

Tyler had seen beautiful men before. But none like this before.

The man wasn’t at all what he’d normally be admirable too, but that didn’t matter. Whatever he was feeling at that moment didn’t make a lick of sense… but he went with it. That was the point of something different, wasn’t it?

He decided to be wise and not give his full name, for he didn’t know who this man really was… and when the commoners found out what title he held over their land, he was sure a ransom would be made in his honor.

“TK,” he answered with a nod, trying not to show how nervous he truly felt. He was in unknown parts; he wouldn’t fit in here. His appearance proved that.

“Interesting name,” the man smirked. “I don’t recognize you… are you new to our humble home?”

He nodded, “I live some towns over. I’ve never been here before. It’s nice.”

“Ah,” the man replied, rubbing his stubbly chin which Tyler had missed in his gaze. “The weather stopped your travels, I reckon?”

“You assume correctly, sir,” Tyler answered, getting rather annoyed by the dull conversation of why he was here. He was cold, tired, and wanted a drink. Eyeing the bar, he saw the man motioning to the owner who nodded and spoke to a waitress.

A woman with a large bust smiled with crooked teeth and brought him a pint, “Here you are, kind sir.” He handed her a bundle of coins and her eyes widened and stuttered. “That’s more than we ask for, sir.”

“Keep it,” he nodded with a genuine smile. He might as well give back while he was escaping his life.

Tyler looked back at the man standing in front of him. He was giving him the most unusual surprised expression. Did he know who he was after all? “What? Why do you stare?”

The man shook his head as if waking himself up from a dream, yet a gleam still shining in his eyes, “You just surprised me is all. That doesn’t happen often.”

As if feeling a pull to the man, he got closer without control of his actions. As he leaned in, he saw the man actually tremble slightly. The feeling shot through him like a dart flying to its target. “If you stay close to me,” Tyler whispered in his ear, “it won’t be the last.”

***

Dammit. This wasn’t going according to his plan at all, Carlos thought miserably. He had now spent hours into the night with this man of great fortune.

He thought the game would be easy. Seduce and steal. It was the game after all, and he’d played this round many times over. He wanted to take the man for all he was worth, giving back to his people… but TK wasn’t like anyone he’d ever meant.

He was rich, that much was certain, yet he was acting like it wasn’t so. But why? What did he gain from this? Did he know Carlos found the gold? At first, he thought the man was playing him, and he got defensive, he wasn’t the one to be played with. He was the master of deception after all. But as the night grew deeper, TK kept buying drinks for Carlos’ men and tipped the tavern hands well.

It didn’t make any bit of sense. He was puzzled.

TK, which he knew the name stood for something more, was witty and kind. A soul that Carlos was suddenly craving to know more of. Carlos found himself opening up, without truly wanting to. Sometimes he would push at the man to see if he could get some sort of exposure, but TK paid no attention to this.

Maybe the man was a very wealthy merchant… but that still didn’t explain his clothes. He also wore a few rings, just like Carlos’... he tried to ignore the stirring in gut burning for a small touch. A pauper like he wouldn’t dare get his dirty fingers on such a clean….

His thoughts on their own accord went into a place he almost welcomed. In his mind, his lips were feverishly kissing the man on his neck, sucking softly at the skin there. TK’s hands pulling his hair roughly as Carlos moaned and undid that black belt, fingers exploring to where they so desperately wanted to be… wanting more… touching more… owning one another’s body with sweat and lust… and….

“Did I lose you?”

Carlos’ head shot up, “Pardon?”

“You seem quite lost in your thoughts…” TK smirked, then his expression changed to that of puzzlement as he took a sip of his drink, “You know… you have yet to tell me your name.”

“My apologies, sir,” Carlos wiped his sweaty hands on his brown pants and cleared his thirsty throat, “My name is Carlos Reyes.” As they shook hands, Carlos felt something unexpected; something new. In all honesty, he felt scared for the first time in years.

“Carlos,” TK inquired, “My goodness, that is a beautiful name.”

What in the devil was happening? How was this man sitting across from him seducing him with his words and that stare of his? Carlos was starting to get annoyed by the situation. “It was the name I was born with, sir, do not make it an issue of indulgence.”

TK’s eyes widened in surprise, and Carlos immediately felt pain for hurting the man. But the man was quick-whipped, “You speak intelligent words for a—”

The fire fueled on. “For what, sir? A poor pauper?”

“I did not mean….”

“Oh, but I think you did,” Carlos replied quickly and he stood up from the wooden table, angry he had let this random stranger get under his ruff skin like this. He was beginning to feel like the mouse in this game, and he was always calm and collected—now he was anything but that. “I think our night has come to an end… TK.. if that is your real name.”

“Why do you question it?”

Carlos narrowed his eyes, “Please don’t trifle with me. You are not a commoner, you come from wealth.” He motioned to TK’s outfit, “Your appearance alone tells me all I need to know of who you really are. And for the simple fact that you most likely speak down to others. Others you'd consider dirt on your nice shoes.”

TK’s frowned, still looking achingly beautiful, and Carlos wanted to smooth his expression with his fingers. TK took another big sip of his ale. “You know nothing of who I really am, so don’t presume to know otherwise.”

“Whatever your aim is, I want no part in it.”

“Why do you assume I have the motive for such an action?” TK asked as he bit his lip. The motion itself almost knocked Carlos over with lust. “I thought we were enjoying the night, getting to know each other and talking of things with little importance, yet fun nonetheless.”

“Well, as it may… I’ve suddenly grown tired of this dull lack of conversation,” Carlos nodded towards him, “So I’ll take my leave. Good night.”

As he gave money to Roman on his way out he didn’t look back, even though every voice in his mind, and even more importantly his heart, was telling him to.

***

Tyler-Kennedy sat there not understanding what could possibly have happened. He had thought they were getting along nicely. For once in his 26 years of life, he was enjoying himself with someone else’s company. What did he say that was so wrong? He was a fool to feel as though he could pretend he was anything but what he was.

He left more coins and started to walk away upset. Just then an old man grabbed his arm... tightly. Tyler looked over defensively, “Let go of me this instance!”

“I just mean to tell you to not take his actions to heart.”

“Pardon? I do not…. “

The man smiled and wiped his toothy grin. “You are his match in every way that matters, and he fears that. I can see you two together as clear as I can see my hand, sir.”

“So you read fortunes then?” Tyler scowled, running a hand through his thick hair. The man shrugged, but there was something very unnerving about the way he stared into his eyes.

“He thought you were like the rest of them, but you proved to be something quite different. You felt the same about him, no?”

Tyler thought for a minute. What was this old man getting at? But then he thought of what he was saying. Tyler-Kennedy felt at home here, well, when he was sitting in Carlos’ company. He had become quite shaken himself, feeling something far deeper than he should’ve in such a short time. But he would not give in to temptation, “No. I do not feel the same.”

“You lie. You lie not only about who you truly are but your feelings as well. Just because you were born into a certain situation does not make you that. Follow your heart.”

Tyler looked down, “My heart is stone. Nothing can break its walls.”

Shaking his head, the man took a sip of his drink and muttered, “But he will… he will. You shall see, my Lord. It was written in the stars.”

As Tyler turned away, nonplussed, he knew that there was truth in the man’s words.

***

Carlos sat by the edge of the water close to the tavern. His reflection was waving towards him with the help of the moon’s bright light.

His life had been such a mess, but he had enjoyed it… for the most part. He was an orphan who had made something of himself. He was respected by others and feared by some. They looked up to him as they would in a leader; he took care of the people, the ones the other’s left behind. It was something he took great joy in.

Carlos had just forgotten the dream of sharing his life with a companion. For so long he brushed the notion that he needed another. He didn’t want that for himself, truly he didn’t. So why in God’s name was this stranger unnerving him so? He knew he was wrong to lash out at the man for no just reason… but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was changing… maybe within himself. Something called fate. What if he was meant to meet TK?

He laughed at the thought; life didn’t work that way. If so, he wouldn’t be dirt poor. And if he were to think of that notion it begs the question of and what would he do? Save him from his poor life? A man, a proper man, like TK would never truly look his way. Carlos had known that and it had also fueled the fire within. He was tired of not being good enough. Dammit… he hadn't asked for this life… this hand he was dealt. Just once he wanted something that was truly his.

Carlos grabbed a large rock and threw it aggressively into the pond as he swore angrily.

As another rock flew past him and into the water, he turned and pulled his small dagger out.

TK was standing behind him, looking more beautiful than was truly fair. It angered him once more.

“I did not mean to frighten you so,” TK said softly, holding his hands up in a retreating manner.

“Who said you frightened me? You did not.”

A small laugh made its way out of TK’s mouth and Carlos' heart fluttered at the sound. “Your sword towards my throat tells another story.”

Carlos shook his head ignoring his witty banter, “What are you doing here? Are you following me?”

“Well, as there is but one exit… and the storm has finally stopped. I thought I should be on my way.”

“Back to your fortress of money I presume,” Carlos sneered, knowing he wasn’t being fair or kind and feeling instantly bad about it.

“My goodness, I certainly hit a nerve, haven’t I?”

Carlos rolled his eyes, “I’m right, am I not?”

TK nodded, “Yes, I suppose you are. I’ll be swimming in my coins tonight. Is that what you wanted to hear? Yes, I come from great money. My name is Tyler-Kennedy Strand.”

No… it couldn’t be. “You… you are a Strand?”

“That I am. In the flesh.”

“What on earth are you doing here? Will I have my head on a platter for even speaking with you?”

“I don’t know… are you going to try to hurt me?”

“I would never!” The words came quickly out of Carlos’ mouth before he could stop them. “I mean… you have given me no reason to do so. So I shall not… tonight.”

Again, TK surprised him, “I enjoy your spirit, Carlos. You are quite fun.”

“You have no idea how fun I can be,” he replied, eyes growing hungry without meaning so. It was as if TK had control over his mind, body, and soul. He hated it.

“Intriguing…” TK sighed and they stared at one another for a long time. Carlos’ heart was pounding behind his chest the entire time. TK broke off the stare and walked next to him closer to the water. As he looked out towards the mountains, the moon was shining on his face, making him even more breathtakingly beautiful.

“I did not mean to be so cruel, sir,” Carlos expressed, rubbing his head, “I suppose you did frighten me.”

“How so?”

“I think you know….”

TK had nothing to say to this, and Carlos cursed himself silently. Why was he acting like such a fool? Here he was, expressing his heart when it was clearly not reciprocated.

“I ran away.”

Carlos' eyes widened, not for the first time. What had he said? He ran away? Maybe by being open with TK, he was doing the same, “But why? You have everything a person could ever want.”

TK looked over at him with sadness and whispered, “Almost everything.”

His heart broke at that moment, for he knew just what TK had meant. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than this man who stood beside him. Reason be damned.

Carlos looked in his eyes once more; those beautiful eyes that looked of sea glass were a siren calling his inner desires to come out and play. And by God, he wanted to play. TK licked his lips and it was all over….

His mouth moved towards TK’s as light as a feather, inviting his partner in if he wished. Carlos had never been so gentle, but then again, he’d never used his heart in this way either.

***

Tyler-Kennedy didn’t know what was happening, but all he knew was he wanted more of it as he kissed Carlos back. His lips moved slowly at first as a whisper, but when he felt a shock he pulled away.

Was the old man correct? Was this the beginning of what he saw….

As he faltered and stopped kissing back. Carlos pulled away. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have inquired….” Carlos said quickly looking down. No, he was mistaken.

Pushing the fear of what could be behind him, Tyler gently tilted the beautiful’s man’s face up to look at him. “I’m happy you did.” He moved closer once more, “The only mistake you made was pulling away….”

Their lips crashed into one another’s more feverishly this time around, surrounded with passion, and Tyler kissed as though he had never kissed another before. In truth, he hadn’t. There had been one man years past, but that was nothing like this. There was a fire within these kisses that made him feel alive for the first time.

Time ceased meaning. Nothing else mattered. Tyler never wanted this to stop. He craved the man in his arms.

Their fingers grazed over one another like a fairy dance; a dance of heaven meeting hell. He wanted more of that fire.

As if Carlos read his mind with some sort of sorcery, he breathed raggedly into Tyler's mouth, “Stay with me tonight?”

He wanted nothing more… but he knew that if he slept with this man, nothing would be the same. It wouldn’t be a one-time thing. Not with how he was feeling about this man, about this night. But looking into the future, what life could he offer them both? He was expected to marry another noble with great fortune and a title. Carlos, the man that had knocked the wooden stool out from under him, was not that. But he was so much more, in all the ways that mattered to his heart.

If he did follow through with this desire, they might both end up broken-hearted… especially if the old man had been correct about their future together. He thought they might be intertwined...and the way this night had gone, was making him believe it so.

But he couldn’t…even though he wanted it more now than ever before. “I cannot,” he finally said, moving out of Carlos’ firm but loving grasp. “I’m sorry.”

Carlos’ look of disappointment was a dagger to Tyler’s heart. He felt tears well up within his eyes and cursed his family’s name. He so badly wanted to be anyone else.

“I understand,” Carlos whispered, looking towards the ground.

He knew that Carlos thought the worst, but how could he tell him what he was feeling so deeply and that he was scared to hurt them both? Tyler shook his head, “No, I don’t think you do… I—”

“Lord Strand! Lord Strand?”

His loud interruption caught him off guard and he looked in the distance. Philip, his lead servant, and four other men from their manor were on their horses calling out his name.

“It seems your adventure of freedom comes to an end,” Carlos replied with a sad smile, on that did not reach his beautiful face.

“It appears so,” he all but growled. He didn’t want to do this, now that he had a taste of what freedom felt like.

Carlos touched his back gently, “Whatever this was… meeting you on this night… I am grateful, Tyler-Kennedy.”

It broke his heart to know that this was their farewell. But all he could do was nod in reply, “You as well.” He smiled, “And it’s TK if you don’t mind.”

Now Carlos smiled again touching Tyler’s face softly, “TK, I do hope to see you again someday.”

Tyler leaned in to kiss him once more and felt that fire within flicker in delight. He pulled away breathlessly and smiled, “I’m sure our paths will cross again. After all, it was written in the stars.” And with that, he walked away from the man who had changed the course of his path forever.

[breanime]

Good Enough (Part Two)

Requested by @delicatelilyflower:  Oh gosh, okay, do you remember that fic you write “good enough”? Well, could you write it but in Billy’s POV? I think it could be interesting to see how he felt during all of this! Thank you so much! 💗

So this isn’t so much a Part Two as it is a companion piece, but I was too lazy to think of a new title, haha. 

Here’s the original, from the Reader’s POV, maybe read this before this one?

*gif not mine*

Billy was late. He was three hours late, to be exact, and he knew it. Luckily for him, he knew you were fine waiting at home, and luckily for him, he was on his way to you.

He let himself into the place you shared and smiled when he saw you. You were fast asleep on the couch, surrounded by the mis-matched colored walls. He chuckled to himself as he approached you. It had been his idea to paint the living room, but he was a slow study. The room, in all honesty, looked worse now that he’d gotten involved with it, except now, with you in it… It had the best view in the whole world.

He leaned over you, his hand brushing against your warm skin, and Billy felt his heart melt. You were so beautiful, so soft and sweet and perfect. How he got you—how he kept you—was a mystery to him, frightening and fantastic all at once. But he was determined to keep you, even if he had to keep you locked in the penthouse like a dragon guarding his princess, for as long as he could. 

“You know,” he said softly, the back of hand caressing your sleeping face, “we have an entire bedroom for this exact purpose.”

You smiled as you woke up, and Billy was glad that he was sitting on the edge of the couch, because otherwise, he would have fallen to his knees at the sight of you; pretty eyes blinking up at him, lips spread in that perfect smile aimed at him—only him. “I thought our room was for another purpose…”

He laughed, kissing you and the two of you started talking. He told you about the benefit he had to go to—a favor to Curtis—and felt his heart speed up when you said the dreaded words: “I can go with you.”

He both loved and hated when you said that. He loved it because he loved you, loved that you were always so willing to be with him, knowing good and well that those benefits were Billy’s least favorite thing. You just wanted to be there to be with him, to support him. He’d never had that before, someone who just wanted… be there for him. He loved it.

But he hated it, too.

He hated the thought of you, charming and beautiful and warm, being surrounded by all those fakes and phonies, of the men and women who would flock to you, wanted to possess you and own you… His fists clenched with just the thought of it. You were such a beacon, such an inviting presence, you couldn’t help it—it was one of the things Billy loved about you. But him… Those parties were work for him, he had to force a smile, shake hands, trade small talk and insignificant chatter with people he’d never want to spend time with in his regular life. It was like he was a robot; it was forced and stiff and fake. Not him at all. He didn’t want to expose you to that, didn’t want you to see him like that…

…what if you left him?

Quickly, he assured you that he’d be home sometime soon and convinced you to go to bed—the actual bed—while he headed out.

Crisis averted.

A few days later, he got a text from you. Gonna be out late with Karen. Be home later.

He texted back, glancing over at himself in the mirror. He was getting a fitting for one of his suits to prepare for the event tonight; a huge waste of time (the fitting and the event), that he was forced to do because of the social nature of his job. His fingers moved quickly: That’s fine. I have another event I have to go to. Don’t wait up. He sighed, pocketing his phone. He wanted to come home to you, hold you in his arms and not worry about shaking hands with rich assholes who knew him for an upstart with a violent past, but he had to. It wasn’t his favorite part of his job, but it was a part of it nonetheless. He just had to suffer through it, and then he could go home to you.

But then he heard the whispers, excited and predatory, about a beautiful woman at the gala, of how she was so friendly and witty and enticing—and he knew immediately they were talking about you. It didn’t take him long to find you after that, he just followed the scent of lust and wandering eyes, and there you were, surrounded by four women that Billy knew for a fact wanted to take you home. He saw red. He felt the cool, empty mask he put on for these kinds of events slip away, and his real self—selfish and harsh and territorial—come through.

He came up and took you by the elbow, stopping himself from literally tossing you over his shoulder and carrying you off like King Kong. Be cool, Russo. Be cool. “I need to speak with Y/N,” he said through gritted teeth. He led you away, ready to talk…

…and made it all worse.

He yelled at you—something he’d never done before, and the way you looked at him… Pretty eyes so wide, he could practically see the resentment in them. “I don’t want you here!” He had said—shouted—at the only women he’d ever loved.

He watched you run out and felt himself deflate. Fuck.

He looked for you, jogging back out to the ballroom, looking for you in that amazing dress, but he didn’t see you. He didn’t bother asking around—the thought of people watching you was already on his mind, he didn’t need any proof to add fire to his already present jealousies. Instead, he went around the entire place looking for you. It took him less than five minutes to cover the grounds—partly because of his training, and partly because he had a very specific you-radar that helped him scan the crowd—before he had to admit that you were gone.

Loosening his tie, he hoped into his car and drove home—speeding just a little bit, replaying the argument in his head. God, he loved you. He loved you so much, and he yelled at you. He ran his hand through his hair, pulling at the strands, shaking it as he drove. Fuck. He was such a fucking idiot. Who was he to yell at you like that? To grab you and pull you away just because he was a coward and afraid you were going to leave him. Hell, who could blame you if you did? You wanted to be with a man, not a machine, not someone who had to play a part at work, someone who only pretended to be what you were—warm and funny and open. You deserved better, you deserved someone…whole.

Billy came into the house, pissed at himself and wanting nothing more to hold you and beg your forgiveness. He slammed the door behind him, both to let off some steam and to let you know he was coming. He stomped to your room, still pissed at himself and still revved for a fight, even though he knew better. But you had to know, he shouldn’t have yelled at you, and he didn’t… Didn’t mean for you to leave. He wanted it, yes, but he hadn’t wanted to make you leave, hadn’t wanted to start a fight.

“Fuck, Y/N, I didn’t mean I wanted you to—” his eyes landed on the bag you had on the bed and widened as he realized you were packing, and his heart nearly stopped, “what are you doing?”

You sighed, wiping your cheeks. You were crying. He’d made you cry. “What does it look like I’m doing, Billy?” You snapped back, voice wavering. “I’m leaving. Just…give me a minute and I’ll be out of your way.”

Billy moved, standing between you and the door, knowing that all it would take for you to get him to move would be just to ask him to. He put his hands up, wanting to touch you but afraid you would recoil if he did. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if you did. “What?” He asked, shaking his head. “Why?” He knew why.  “Y/N, baby, I’m sorry I raised my voice at you, I was being a dick, I know—”

“I can’t do this anymore,” you said, and Billy’s heart broke. “I love you, Billy, I love you so much, but…” He shook his head again as you spoke. But what? There should be no but—you were everything he ever wanted, exactly what he needed. You couldn’t go. “I’m not enough for you and I know that,” you went on, “So I’m not going to hold you back any longer…”

Billy felt his hands shake. He’d faced down criminals, terrorists, dangers of every sort, but this… He had never been so afraid, so heart-stoppingly terrified, in his entire life. “Baby, what are you talking about? Don’t,” he stepped towards you, willing his hands to stop shaking, “don’t go. Just… Talk to me, what’s going on?”

“You’re embarrassed of me!” You screamed, eyes flooding with a new set of tears, “You are! I’m not blind, Billy, I’ve seen all those women from the galas and parties and benefits—they’re beautiful and I can never match up to that!” His jaw dropped. You had no idea how wrong you were—and that was his fault... “So I’m done, I’m leaving and now you can be with one of them and not have to be ashamed to be seen with her or have your picture in the paper—”

Billy grabbed you for the second time that night, pulling you to his chest. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, not even noticing that, now that you were in his grasp, his hands had stopped shaking. You sobbed against his chest, fisting your hands in his shirt as he rubbed your back. God, he loved you. And look what he’d done to you; letting you think that you weren’t enough for him. You were everything. He put his mouth on the top of your head, breathing in your scent, and closed his eyes. He ruined this. He ruined everything. He should have known that he would, that he was never good enough for you—and he never would be.

No.

No, he couldn’t—wouldn’t—just let you go. He needed you, he loved you, and he would fight for you. Even if it meant having to be vulnerable. You were more than worth it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice soft and low over your heartbreaking, shuddering cries, “Baby, I am so, so sorry.” He kissed the top of your precious head. “I never meant to make you think… God, I swear, I had no idea you felt like this…” He sighed. “I really am a dick.” He pulled back, so that he could look at your face and carefully, softly wiped your tears. “Let me be very, very clear, Y/N.” He took a breath. “I love you. I am so in love with you, it’s scary. I want… I want to be with you for the rest of my life.” He watched your eyes widen and continued. “Baby, please, please understand that I have never been ashamed or embarrassed of you, ever. Never. You’re the most amazing, gorgeous, beautiful person on this Earth. I’m so lucky to have you,” he swallowed, “And I’m selfish. You know that. Y/N, the only reason I never take you to these parties is because I don’t want to share you. And I don’t like having you see me when I’m working, when I’m not myself because… You’re the only person I can really be honest with. And I love you for that, Y/N.”

He held you as you spoke, telling him your fears and insecurities, and he listened with a heavy heart. You had been so sad, so lonely, for so long, and he hadn’t even noticed. He’d let you down.

But he was going to spend the rest of his life making it up to you, and he told you so.

You smiled then, watery eyes lighting up in that special way they did only for him, “That almost sounds like a proposal, Russo,” you joked.

Billy grinned back at you. “Aw, sweetheart,” he said, kissing you again, a little deeper this time, “trust me, you’ll know when I propose.” His grip on you tightened and you sighed contently as he kissed you once more. “But best believe, I’m gonna make you Mrs. Billy Russo someday…someday soon.”

He took you to bed then, whispering just how much you meant to him, and how much he loved you. He made it a point to back his words up with his touch; caressing and kissing every inch of you, telling you how unbelievably beautiful you were and hoping to God you believed him. Because it was true. You were beautiful, inside and out. And you were his just as much as he was yours. He knew that, and he didn’t need to be afraid anymore. You loved him.

“I love you,” he said, lips against yours, body on top of yours, eyes staring into yours, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You smiled. “I love you, Billy,” you said back, “I love you.”

He kissed you again, and as he held you, his whole world in his arms, he knew who he was. The job, the mixing and mingling, his past—none of that mattered. He wasn’t just Lieutenant Russo anymore, but he wasn’t just a pretty face either, nor was he just Billy Russo, CEO—he was yours. And because of you, because of your patience and love and warmth, he knew who he was.

He was good enough.

*******************************************************************************************

I copied and pasted a few bits from the first part, but I did try to add a few things every time I did. I hope you liked this--thanks for reading!

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[flowerymoonlight]

my third heart

pairing: Bucky x Reader

genre: angst and pain, I didn’t even try to make it happy

word count: 2,054

summary: You saw the Soldat a total of four times in your life.

warnings: talking about hydra and the red room but no real details, character deaths, shootings

author’s note: this is for @the-omni-princess ‘s 1k challenge OH MY GOD IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG IM TERRIBLE I KNOW I had War Of Hearts by Ruelle 

The first time you saw Soldat you were nine years old and practicing for your first ballet recital. He had come in with six other men all in combat gear and all surrounding another man in a suit. You didn’t know enough then not to look him in the eyes – even if they were void of any color.

The second time you saw Soldat you were fifteen and instructed to wait in the training room with Natalia, Alina, and Dominika. You knew you four were the best in your class, you just weren’t sure whether they would kill you or give you an assignment. Then the Soldat walked in without his mask and barking orders that your body had since a long time ago learn to follow.

From that day on you saw the Soldat every day for the next four years. He trained you and the others on different fighting styles, how to make yourselves invisible and how to get in and out of a room without anyone inside it realize you were ever there.

He had you working in two teams, you with Natalia and Alina with Dominika. You were operating a mission in Moska when Alina and Dominika were compromised by the local police. You sat and watched as the Soldat pulled out his rifle and aimed. Two head-shots. Fifteen minutes later you were on a military aircraft back to the compound.

You never forgot the speed in which he was ready to take them out.

When it was time for yours and Natalia’s graduation ceremony the Soldat tried to do a pep talk. It was the first time you had seen him fumbling with his words and it was oddly endearing. It took a couple of giggles from you and Natalia for him to grumble something about the youth and leave the room.

Three years later Natalia went rogue and you never heard from her again.

The next time you saw the Soldat it was a year after Natalia had disappeared and you had learned she was with your enemies. At first, you were angry that her loyalty was so easily swayed and went on a killing spree trying to find Agent Barton, Hawkeye, the man that took her with him. After being unsuccessful you decided to wait patiently and plan his slow death.

That time the Soldat came with the mask over his face and stayed for another year.

That year he was assigned to you – or rather you were assigned to him. Someone from above had suspicions that what happened to Natalia would happen to you. So, the Soldat was supposed to take care of you and make sure you killed for the right team.

He wasn’t supposed to get attached. You weren’t supposed to get attached. You were a highly skilled agent, trained to conceal and be in control of your emotions at all times. What happened with the Soldat was unexpected and certainly unwanted. It compromised your position and reliability as an asset to the cause.

And yet you couldn’t stop. Everything in your training told you that getting involved with an agent, from your team or otherwise, was to be avoided at all costs. You must not have any attachments so you can focus on the cause.

The Soldat had assured you after a night of holding you close that you were both extremely committed to what was right and this thing between you was simply bodies exchanging heat.

You tried to believe him – until you didn’t. Until he almost got his head blown up during an extraction, and so much worry clouded your mind that you almost got made by the enemy. And it was only almost because you made sure no one of them would live to tell the tale.

You tried to believe that the cause was more important even as you rushed to make sure he was okay and kissed him when all you could find on his body were a few scratches and bruises, maybe a cracked rib that would heal in a couple of hours. You even tried to believe it when he kissed you back with the same vigor while you dragged each other back to the safe house.

You began to wonder when you would see him after an especially hard mission that would get him to the infirmary for two days. Or when he would leave for a mission all alone, arming himself to the bone. You began to worry about him. And you began to wonder if the cause really was more important than him.

That’s when you knew you were in too deep and the only solution was to extract yourself from the situation focus on your assignments. But knowing what to do and actually doing it are two very different things.

Then your pace started to change. He was coming to see you after each mission before he could even get checked for injuries. He would stay until you made him leave and take a shower and check himself and then he would come back at night when all the lights were out and none the wiser.

He would curl around you and bring you both to orgasm but he would never let go of you not even for a moment. After he would stay until his breathing evened out, until your breathing evened out, and you would fall asleep in his arms every night. Even if you woke up without him the next day, you knew he wanted to stay.

It was becoming more and more dangerous to see him and get even more attached and infatuated with him. And yet there was a war happening inside of you, between your heart and your mind. Both convinced that they knew the right thing to do and yet pitching two different things.

Realizing and acknowledging your situation didn’t make it any easier when they took him from you. A year after being partners the STRIKE team came barging in while you were cleaning your weapons and they tasered him till he couldn’t move and was helpless as they hoisted him up and took him away from you.

The only reaction you gave – the only reaction you were supposed to give – was a twitch of your jaw before they left and you focused again on cleaning your gun. Aware of the cameras in the room and how they were now intently focused on you and aware of where they were taking him and what they’d do to him.

It hurt more when you pretended like nothing had happened. Like they didn’t take your partner away from you. It hurt more when you were letting out your rage on the enemy and not being able to shoot down the very STRIKE members that ripped him from you.

It hurt more when you didn’t know which was the right side anymore.

So, you did the only thing you could. You went dark – rogue, just like Natalia. Only you didn’t change sides. You didn’t choose any sides. You were on your own with a new name, a new identity, and a new country.

Your solitary didn’t last for long as three years later you were coming back from a run when you caught a black van trailing you. You didn’t give them the satisfaction of acknowledging them, continuing on your way to your apartment.

In all honesty, you were expecting someone to already be there and waiting for you to get back – you just weren’t expecting him. You weren’t expecting to see the Soldat in full combat gear looking around your living room, confused as if it was his first time seeing a couch.

You couldn’t blame him, it was a lot for you too when you discovered throw pillows.

But the surprise of seeing him there after all these years had you being slow and with a gun pointed at your chest while the Soldat stared you down. When your eyes trailed over his exposed face, trying to memorize it again, you couldn’t stop them even if you wanted to.

But the thing that made something inside of you break and shatter were his eyes, and how vacant they were compared to the last time you saw him. A part of you broke even more because you knew exactly what they had done to him – exactly what he went through. And you were not there to stop it.

You expected the bullet to hit you straight in the chest. You prepared for the sharp pain that would only last seconds before you took your last gasped breaths in this world. But it never came. The Soldat never fired.

Instead, he kept staring at you with a frow between his brows. You itched to move as more seconds passed by but you made yourself stand still and wait for his next move. You didn’t expect that either. He flipped the gun in his hand so you could take it from him.

You gaped at him – willingly giving you his gun – and for the seconds it took you to place the thought in your head the Soldat was moving and taking your hand to shove the gun on it till your instincts kicked in and you gripped it tightly.

The next moment he was stepping back, with his hands at his sides, and looking at you expectantly. You lifted the gun to point at his chest and he didn’t even blink. But as much as you knew that you should pull the trigger and flee as fast as possible. As much as you knew your only chance was with him laying on your living room floor, bleeding out, you couldn’t do it.

You lowered the gun to your side and let out a shaky exhale – the first sign of emotion since you saw him. You thought that he would strike you then. That he only gave you a fighting chance before taking you down. But you should’ve learned by then that you should never expect anything from him.

The Soldat took two steps before he was in front of you and grabbing your hand still holding the gun and placing it against his chest. You stared at him as you realized that he wanted you to shoot him. He wanted you to take him down. Does that mean...

“You remember...” You whisper, and it’s lost between you as he shuts his eyes but never lets the grip he has on your hand falter. You realize quickly that you’re hoping for too much. You were asking too much of him. But that just gave you even more questions about his reasons behind this.

“It’s the only way,” he whispered back and his voice held all the things you couldn’t say and all the things you couldn’t feel. You felt it landing heavily at the pit of your stomach and all you wanted to do was disregard all your training for just one moment – one moment where you could hold him before he was taken away again.

But you couldn’t – because he wouldn’t either.

So, you ripped your hand from his hold and before you could blink and change your mind you aimed for his leg, firing a shot just above his right knee that had him grunting and his other knee falling to the ground. You didn’t hesitate before going for his left shoulder.

You did, though, take a moment to look into his eyes as you aimed at the center of his chest again – different position and different eyes staring back at you. This time the Soldat didn’t dare hide anything as you held his life in your hands. You saw everything in those blue orbs and you felt like you were shooting yourself when you pulled that trigger.

You didn’t stay to look after you heard his gasp and the sound of his body hitting the floor. You didn’t stay to look at the blood trickling out of his body and soaking your carpet. You took the fire escape out of the building just in time to hear the STRIKE team bust down your door to find the Soldat.

You didn’t stay to hear if they found a pulse – you just fled.

[mother-snake]

promised story 1-

(this one is an origional and first chapter to a book im going over at  the minuet, any constructive critisism would be nice and anything you liked about or didnt like would be good for me so i can perhapse change certain things in future!) -if you guys like it enough i might post the other chapters as i work along them. and if youd like, i can tagg you in!-

UNLOCKED: kurbose words: 3641 warnings: small fight thing happens at begining.

chapter 2-  n/a

chapter 1 -I will eat this sandwich; fate just has other plans.

At least crows don’t judge people for doing the bizarre things they do, I suppose. For example; the fact that I was sitting down on top of the rather worn-down churches roof that lay in the dead centre of the village, slowly turning into a town. Very slowly... I’d blame me getting up here on my habit of using my, not so useful, skill of getting into trouble; but in all honesty that excuse’ became unreliable since the tenth time I’d deliberately made my way up here. Not that I minded much.

Ten or so crows were lined on either side of me cawing loudly at one another trying to get closer, hoping that they could snag some of the sandwich I was eating. It had been wrapped up and stayed in my pocket since the morning. I had always left then in the early hours and barely came back until nightfall. the murder was slowly becoming more and more agitated as they looked at the sandwich with a keen eye.

lunch I had to skip due to them… I don’t mean the birds of course. not the birds. Never. Ever. blame the birds.

the night air was always calming. The stars seemed to look down upon me with a curious gaze, as if asking why I was still in the melancholy village. Living in such a boring place for years. sometimes it felt like hundreds of eyes were on me. that’s why I always sat on top of the roof. And when I did, I couldn’t help but feel a form of freedom I couldn’t get anywhere else. Mayhaps that was because I wasn’t supposed to be up there in the first place. Alas. We shall never know.

sure, some people would enjoy the normal life. Not worrying about what would be around the corner. But I I’m not like that, when it’s all you know. You’d wish for something to change.

I surveyed the area in my line of vision. It was slowly becoming dark enough that everything was blending together. But I could still see the outlines of everything. the sound of the canal that split the village up in sections was only a couple streets away.

I could recognise some of the people lined up by their houses getting the final things ready. And those who were wondering the streets were making their ways home. it was fairly easy to remember everyone in the town. No one really moved here, and if they did, they would mostly stay till they were old and grey.

One of the many people I could see from where I was is Miss hazel. I could see her picking some of the herbs and flowers for her medicines and potions. She was our physician much to many traveller’s surprise.

Then there was Mr. jackal who was sitting on his doorstep. A small wooden pipe in hand, a faint smoke ring coming from the pipe. Sometimes I felt that I’d never seen him going anywhere without it.

The brother and sister, Lawrence and Catherine were running after one another, up and down the street below. They were five and seven. Catherine being the eldest. She was very much a saint in many eyes. Learning how to climb into small places for things we had lost.

Her brother Lawrence had been practicing magic as far as anyone knew. He was getting better as the year continued to pass. He had started in early spring and not seemed to have stopped since. He had a wizard’s soul, that’s for sure. Only one in thousands seemed to appear.

Mrs. Evelyn was looking around the streets from one of her windows waving down to everyone, looking up and spotting me, I gave a quick wave back. I couldn’t hear her but I could tell she was laughing as a crow hopped up onto my lap and stole a slither of meat from my sandwich.

Sometimes it was nice to see a familiar face, but when you know practically everyone who walks the street daily. It can get rather boring, their conversations tended to repeat with nothing interesting happening most of the time.

I was cut from my thoughts by an annoyingly familiar clink of something hitting the roof grabbed my attention. I quickly wrapped my sandwich back in its paper bag and placed it into my cardigans pocket. I turned my attention to the gutter, a small sharp stone that hadn’t been there before laid on top of some moss.

The murder realising what was going to happen fluttered away in a frenzy, cawing in disarray. Not wanting to be caught in the stupidity that laid below me in the church garden.

Preparing myself as best as I could, I looked around and caught sight of the gargoyle sitting perched slightly off from where I was positioned. If I miss this, well… I either die or break my legs.

The gargoyle itself had a monstrous face, baring fanged teeth and its wings spread out, poised to strike. another rock landed near my position. deciding to take the risk, I pushed myself slightly in the direction of the beast. landing with a small thud behind it, I let out a breath. Two more stones were thrown in my direction, the sound of them rolling onto the gutter caused me to flinch.

They were too close. One thing I could say is that the people below were getting better at their aim and way of throwing.

There was a slight warmth coming from the gargoyle, they were in hibernation. They would remove the stone shell around them late into the spring most likely. But they were still aware of what was happing around them. “sorry Mr gargoyle, I hope you can forgive me for using you as a shield…again,” I muttered as I sat behind it. it was hard to keep myself completely hidden. My height being the main reason. Why on this planet did I have to be one of the tallest people. Why? What reason was there for someone to be over six feet? What reason was there?

A couple more stones landed on the roof. I grumbled to myself and peaked over the wing, trying my best to be as careful as possible.

A rock soared over my head causing me to duck slightly. A small part of me was proud. That was the closest they’d gotten in a long time. After all this had been a weekly routine for a while now. A bit inconvenient when trying to eat. But at least it kept my somewhat self-preservation skills usable.

A small cackle came from down below. I rolled my eyes. If only they were as smart as their egos. Their rich snobbish attitudes had been like this for years.

“is poor goliath too scared to come down?” Jonathan yelled; the noise being muffled by the distance. “sorry! It’s not my fault I’m allergic to social interaction” I hollered back; I peeked back over the wing, slightly thankful for the small heat it gave off the cold winter air biting my exposed skin. Wearing knee length shorts in winter is not advised for a reason. That’s the joy of being a dysfunctional mess such as myself.

Anyways, as I peeked over the first thing, I could see was his obnoxiously blonde hair, it was almost three shades close to white. I would have easily called it fake if it wasn’t for the fact that I hadn’t grown up with him. the blonde hair was held in a ponytail today.

My eyes also caught sight of the two figures standing either side of Jonathan. Both recognisable by the way they looked. the ginger on his left was always known for her seemingly endless collection of silk blue dresses. Each one would have cost my family a year’s worth of food.

Then the boy on his right was a lavante, he had been one of the few to move here. His species are known for the fact their basically living lava, skin ossified by the oxygen. His eyes were pools of red lava. His hair was like living fire. the older they got, the bluer their hair became.

He looked a bit conflicted to what they were doing. He always did. We were mutual friends. He gave a weak smile and waved. To be honest I forgot his name years ago… too late to ask now.

“you’ll come down eventually!” blue dress screeched as she readied to throw a stone in her hand.

“you underestimate my pettiness, I've got food in my pocket, I could stay up here longer that you could down there!" I yelled back; my pettiness was something barely anyone was able to match.

Seeing her pull her arm back to throw, I ducked myself behind the wing one more time. soon one after another, a barrage of rocks was being thrown my way. one sailed over my head; I could feel the air move as it ruffled my hair. It rolled down and landed by my foot. I picked it up and threw it back as possible.

I looked down to my other pocket. reaching in I pulled out a bronze pocket watch. The lid had long since came off, according to my dad it was the day he met my mother. I chuckled to myself as I remembered the story.

 “what on earth do you think you’re doing?!” I sighed in relief as the voice of the father reached my ears; even if the malice in his voice sent small shivers down my spine.

Is wrath being something to fear. They could try anything they wanted. But as soon as the father got involved then they were very much screwed over.

I tuned out the shouting down below me, sitting in a better way that made my lanky legs sigh in relief. I looked into the gargoyles eyes and mouthed a quick thank you.

As the noise went silent, I looked over the wing to see them walking away out the garden and back to whence they came, a wave of ease flooded over me. At least I would be home in time. Hopefully.

I stood up, stretching and listening my bones crack as I did so. Clapping my hands together I turned around and climbed back onto the top of the roof struggling to get a grip as I did so. I shakily stood up, trying to balance myself in hopes I didn’t fall over.

I walked over to the edge of the building, I crouched down and grabbed the rope I had long ago tied to the building. holding on as tight as possible, knuckles going white in the process, I swung my body over the edge. The rope swayed from the motion. I wrapped my legs around the rope, hoping and praying I didn’t mess this up. taking a deep breath, I let slightly let loose of the rope. Gravity swiftly dragging me down, the rope slightly burning my skin in the process.

I quickly held onto the rope tighter as the ground came too close for comfort. it was that moment father Francis turned the corner. I gave a nervous chuckle as my body hung in the air. “what are you doing,” he groaned. “you know, just hanging around,” I responded, getting a smack on the back of the head causing me to spin slightly in the air.

Planting my feet firmly on the ground, I stood up and rubbed my hands on my shirt, getting rid of the small amounts of dust and mud that clung to them.

He began to walk away, waving for me to follow. I jogged to keep up as best as possible. He didn’t say much anymore. But he was one of the best people in my mind. before he had joined the church, he had been working in the north. He had been one of my inspirations growing up. the stories he told about dragons and monsters he had seen had filled m wonder and desire to see what was beyond here.

People would joke around that the reason he had grey hairs was because of me. I didn’t blame them really. “sorry about that father Francis… again…” I sighed as I averted my gaze. he let out a small chuckle and patted my back, “only a gentle giant like you could hie instead of bashing them in,” he gestured for me to begin moving, “only you goliath.” “why won’t you let that die?” I muttered. he let out another laugh. “I’ll walk you back to your home, make sure you dad knows that they were back again,” there were very few things that could make me shiver, but having my family know about this was one of them. “or, you don’t tell them?” he only gave a deadpanned look in response. I wasn’t getting out of it.

It withing a minuet we were out the garden and onto the streets. The greys and browns of the buildings seemingly blending together in the darkness. we walked in silence turning when needed. The sound of the canal getting closer. brass lamps were lined neatly on each side of the streets. Fireflies the size of a grown adult’s hand laid inside, buzzing away to one another. the people in their homes slowly turning of their lights in hopes of falling asleep. I’d never understood why it was always this time of night that they locked everything up. weather it was a habit or just a bizarre timing factor.

I reached up to my hair and pulled down the bobble keeping my hair up in a simple ponytail. My brown locks dropped down to my sides. I ran my hands through my hair grumbling. I stumbled for second after tripping on a rock. Barely stopping myself from tumbling over.

 The darker and closer we got to my home; the more noises filled the air. Small neon bugs lit up houses and other buildings. Small mice with glowing whiskers would scuttle past us as quickly as possible. The vibrant colours would almost leave a blur in their trail, making them easy to spot in the dark.

Small groups of night birds flocked around piles of litter left by merchants that had been wandering the streets. Nibbling or defending pieces of food, or guarding small shiny things they found on the ground. Like children defending their own things.

So much happened in the night, so much happened and I only get to see a portion of the neon lights, I wished I could have seen more sometimes.

Soon we were out of the main village turning town and making our way down a mud and stone covered path towards the farm.

 Soon enough, but not long enough to gather my thoughts and mentally prepare myself. we arrived at a metal gate surrounding what looked like a nearly collapsing house. I stepped forwards and opened the rusty gate, the hinges creaking with the movement. I had been needing to oil them for a while and had been putting it off for around two weeks now.

The house looked barely liveable. The roof looked both old and new in patches. the chimney looked cracked and ready to fall on the house. the porches roof looked close to caving in as well.

But sill it was home. I took a deep breath and made my way forward towards the door. Hoping with every fibre of my being they were all asleep by now for the sake of my sanity.

As I got closer, the porch light flickered before turning on completely and giving off a small hum. A small dread filling up. the light could only be turned on from the inside after all.

I quickly checked the time on the pocket watch. Oh… I was late. Not too late, but just enough that I was going to get chewed out at most.

The door swung open. A figure walked out and stood in the doorframe with an icy glare directed at me. “where have you been?” yeah, I wasn’t going to survive. the figure let out a sigh, “come in, you will have some explaining to do whilst Eric gets you both some tea.” “sorry for being late…again miles,” I chuckled as I rubbed the back of my neck.

He steppe bac and walked into the house. I let father Francis go in front of me as we made our way inside. I would have taken my shoes of if I had worn them today. I gave a small weak smile to Francis. If it were my dad that we had been greeted with he would have to only stay for five minutes. The twins on the other hand were another story… they had been like this for as long as I could remember. They had always been protective of me. I was sixteen. Yes, it was strange but the reason behind why they were so overprotective is a story for another time.

The entrance was small. Barely able to fit the three of us. Miles made his way up to the first couple steps on the staircase to give more room. I looked to the right; the lights were off witch was probably to save energy. I made my way into the left room. The fireplace warmed up the room, relaxing my body compared to the cold nipping air that was outside.

There was a figure identical to miles, the only difference being their hair partings. They had both their own unique skills, that was one other way to tell their differences.

The cardigan that I was wearing was knitted by Eric. It was at that moment I remembered what was in its pocket. I quickly reached down and pulled out a slightly squashed paper wrapped sandwich and sighed, putting it on the kitchen table that was one wrong move away from losing a leg.

The door at the back of the room shuttered. Looks like it was going to be a long night. the room was slightly crammed, but I didn’t mind that much.

Pulling out a chair and sitting down, I looked over to where the twins were arguing silently. miles had his parting on the left, the smaller part was cut off, it was the same for Eric except with his parting on the right. their hair was an inky black. they glanced over in my direction as I took a bite out of my crushed sandwich.

Red and green heterochromia. One eye green, the other a blood red.

“so, what are you two thinking about?” I said before taking another bite. “why we put up with your antics every day,” miles deadpanned at me. “you love me. That’s why,” I grinned as they sighed. “you’re ten minutes late Charlie, where have you been,” a voice forms the entrance. I looked up to see a scruffy looking man and grinned, “hey pops. And I think the pocket watch may be on the fritz again if that’s the case. It says I should be on time.” “either way, may I ask why the father is currently in our home? Again.”

“Jonathan and the other two again, I simply came to make sure she got home safely instead of running off.”

 They began to talk, leaving me to my own devices. The sandwich that had only one or two more bites worth lay on the table. A half-drunk cup of tea next to it.

Standing up and cracking by back, I made my way past the gossips and made my way to the living room. The light now on as dumbass one and two sat on the floor with cards.

Falling on the sofa backwards, the two who were absorbed in their game gave a little squeak and flung back. I let out a chuckle and stared at them with a curious look as the grumbled curses and words that would put sailors to shame.

“so, what has caused you to grace us with your company?” “if you were in the room with those two gossips, you would leave after a while too.”

Eric laughed and reached his hand over to the small wooden table in the middle of the room. “shift over goliath,” Eric muttered pushing me up. I swung my legs from the arm of the sofa and crossed my legs as I felt a pair of hands running down my hair before getting caught in a knot.

“I swear your hair is worse than ours on a good day,” he groaned before he began to brush my hair. “you do know I could do this on my own, right?” I said. “yeah, but it’s not like I’ve got much else to do in the first place.”

It was another fifteen minutes before I heard the noise in the kitchen slowly rise into the room. the three of us looked between one another with concern. They hadn’t fought before as far as we knew.

“she can’t know!” the voice I could clearly tell was my dad yelled. “she needs to know sooner or later, the sooner the better.”

I stood up from the sofa and slipped into the hall and peaked my head into the room. I could see my father’s face, eyebrows knitted together and eyes glaring at the father. His knuckled white from gripping the cup.

“look, I get why you don’t want to. But all your doing is speeding up the inevitable.” “I know… I’ll tell her soon. I promise.”

I walked into the room and locked gaze with my dad, “or you could tell me now instead of hiding it.”

“how much did you hear,” his face paled. “enough.”

[orangeoctopi7]

Do You Even Lift?

Hope you’re all staying healthy and physically isolating yourselves. Unfortunately, I can’t work from home so I’m still working most nights for the foreseeable future. Still, I know everybody’s stuck at home and looking for something to do, so I’m gonna try and post all the WIPs I’ve been sitting on for the past few months.

Here’s the latest chapter of the Spider Stan AU

* * *

Stan had no idea how to broach the subject of what he’d seen last night with Ford, so he asked a not-so-subtle question the next morning.

“So, uh, you had any weird dreams last night?”

Ford looked at him blankly. “No, why?”

“Uh…” Stan stammered. How was he supposed to answer that question? Remember my spider-sense that you hate so much? It went off again last night, so I snuck into your room and watched you sleep for like half and hour until I saw that weird triangle you have all over the house float out of your head.

“I, uh, thought I heard you talking in your sleep last night?”

“Really? What’d I say?”

“Pch… I dunno! You were all the way downstairs, I couldn’t understand what you were saying! Just heard some muttering through the floorboards with my, y’know, super hearin’.” Stan crossed his arms and looked away.

Ford shrugged. “No, it was a pretty normal night for me.”

“Good. That’s good.” 

Their awkward breakfast conversation was cut short by the ringing of the phone. Ford scrambled out of his chair and down the hall to where the main-floor phone was kept. Stan could easily overhear Ford’s end of the conversation from the kitchen.

“Hello, this is Stanford Pines… Ah, hello Fiddleford.” Stan couldn’t help but notice his brother sounded annoyed. “How is Emma-May? ...Mhmm… I--I’m glad to hear she’s ok. Oh, Stan and I are, surprisingly, doing very well. There have still been a few arguments but really, I think we’re getting along better than-- better than in a very long time… Look Fiddleford, I know… sigh… I know you want to spend more time with your family. You could stay over the weekend, if you want. ...Yes. I’m sure. Take your time. It--it’ll be good to have you back. ...Ok. See you Sunday night.”

Ford re-entered the kitchen with a conflicted expression on his face. “McGucket will be back on Sunday.”

“Oh. Good?” 

“Why did that sound like a question?”

“Well, ya don’t seem too excited for him to come back.”

“I-- of course I’m happy he’s coming back, he’s my friend!” Ford replied stiffly. That conflicted expression returned to his face.

“Are you mad ‘cuz he lied about his wife bein’ sick?”

“I-- you-- you don’t know that!” Ford spluttered. “But… but even if I did learn that--that your assumption was somehow correct, that doesn’t mean-- it shouldn’t be-- that’s no reason--maybe… maybe he was right.”

“Wha?”

“It--it’s been nice, just spending time together again. Would… would you agree?”

Stan swore he felt his heart leap into his throat. Don’t get your hopes up, don’t look desperate! “Y-yeah.” he choked out with a noncommittal shrug.

“Maybe Fiddleford giving the two of us some space is exactly what we needed right now. We got along better yesterday than we ever did the preceding week. The preceding twelve years, really.”

Stan grinned. “See? Lyin’ can be for the greater good sometimes.”

Ford frowned. “I still believe honesty is the best policy…” he added under his breath, “except for when it’s not.”

Stan burst out laughing. Ford looked away sheepishly.

“What, you forget I have super-hearing already? We were literally just talking about it!”

* * *

After cleaning up the kitchen, the brothers returned to the storage room where Ford kept most of his spare inventions.

“Well, you’ve already tested out the anomaly filtration goggles, the web-shooters, and the--”

“Super hero costume.” Stan finished with a roll of his eyes.

“--high durability textiles.” Ford corrected with an annoyed glare. “Do you see anything else in here you’d like to try out?

“How am I supposed to answer that? I don’t even know what any of this junk does!”

“Well, is there anything you always wanted, when you were out on the streets?”

“Money.”

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose but couldn’t quite suppress the smile sneaking onto his lips. He’d walked right into that one. “Let me rephrase. Is there any kind of equipment or tool or skill that would have been helpful to you when you were saving people?”

“Huh…” Stan thought about it for a minute. One thing in particular came to mind. “Something to carry stuff with that’d still keep my hands free.”

Ford gave him a withering glare. “Some place to hold stolen goods?”

“Not all the time!” Stan defended. “Like what if when I ran into you and Mc-What’s-his-name there had been more guards and we had to make a run for it up the wall. I couldn’t carry you two and hold onto the gun I’d swiped at the same time, and I couldn’t just leave it there for some mook to pick up and start shooting at us.”

Ford looked at his brother in confusion. “Your parka has pockets, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, big, old pockets that things can fall out of very easily when you’re climbing directly up a wall. I tried sewing zippers on them once, but zippers are tricky. I almost ruined this coat, and the left pocket still won’t lay right. I tried usin’ a backpack a while ago, but it got stolen, and it was throwin’ me off balance when I climbed anyway.”

“Hmm… Ok. So it would have to be compact enough that it wouldn’t swing about while you climb.” Ford pulled out his Journal and began to sketch something. 

“And y’know what? That reminds me of something else that’d be nice to have. Some sorta handle for people to hold onto or like, I dunno, a baby sling or something. ‘Cuz I’ve had to carry a lot of people to safety, and it’s way harder to climb a shear wall when you’re also tryin’ to carry even a little kid, let alone a grown man! This one time I saved a lady from a mugging by climbing up an office tower, and she nearly strangled me, she wrapped her arms around my neck so tight.”

“I think I’ve got an idea!” Ford flipped around his book to show Stan his drawing. “A belt, with different compartments to hold different supplies in. We could even incorporate a holster for any wayward guns. And of course, people could hold onto it--”

“I don’t want people pullin’ my pants down, genius.”

“Oh, right, of course. Then perhaps more of a harness? Hmm… yes, that could allow for more compartments.”

Stan looked at the sketch. “A utility belt? I’m not freakin’ Captain Nightshade!”

“A tool belt is a piece of equipment that people have been using since our ancestors first started fashinoing clothing out of animal skins.”

“That’s not what I’m complainin’ about. I told you, I’m not playin’ at bein’ a hero, Ford!”

“I never said you had to!”

“Then why’ve you got a logo drawn on it?”

Ford looked down at the little spider silhouette he had drawn on the belt buckle. “It’s just artistic license.” He folded his arms, as though that settled it. “Anyway, I had an idea for another test we can run. Grab the web-shooters.”

“Uh, I dunno if I’m ready for more trapeze stunts.” Stan scratched the back of his neck apprehensively.

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll be on the ground this time. I want to see how much weight this stuff can take.”

* * *

Ford led Stan out into the woods, not far from the house, where a large pile of squashed scrap metal lay rusting under piles of discarded pine needles. It looked like something that would come out of a trash compactor in a big junk yard, not something you would find in the middle of the forest.

“What is this?”

“This is what’s left of my old car. You remember Steve from yesterday?

“Ah.” That explained it.

Ford powered up the leaf blower he’d packed out and blew away the pine needles, revealing his squashed car. “Now, the idea is to attach a line to the frame of the car, loop over one of the thicker branches up there as a pulley, and see if you can pull the car up off the ground. It’ll test the limits of both your strength, and the strength of the web material.”

He picked up one of the web-shooters and tried to aim it up and over the thick branch he’d been thinking of. The line just sailed up over the branch and stuck to another tree a few feet away.

“Lemme see that, Sixer.” Stan took the web-shooter from his brother and strapped it around his wrist before climbing up the tree to the branch in question. He fired a line down on the car and then jumped back down to the ground, letting more webbing out slowly to lower himself.

“Oh. Thank you, Stan. I’ll just stand over here where there’s no danger of being crushed.” Ford retreated a couple of yards.

Once Stan had good footing, he grunted and started pulling at the line like it was a rope. It was hard, at first. The web line was thin and hard to get a grasp on, despite how sticky it was. But once Stan got a good grip and found a comfortable way to pull, he felt the car begin to give. With another strong tug, it lifted a few inches off the ground. Stan grinned as he heard his brother start laughing triumphantly.

“Yes! Yes, it’s holding! It’s perfect! How much of a strain is this on you?”

“Heh, just like liftin’ weights back in high school!”

“Wonderful!” Ford began scribbling in his Journal again. “Oh, weights! We need more weight.”

Stan released the line and the car crashed back to the ground. “You tellin’ me you nerds have a weight set hidden in that cabin?”

Ford laughed again. “No, but one Liter of water weighs about a kilogram. We can just fill up water jugs and put them in the car.”

“Kilo-what?”

“No, Stan, kilowatts measure electrical current!” Ford joked with a cheesy grin.

Stan punched his brother playfully in the arm. Ford winced and rubbed the spot, but he smiled back nonetheless. It was like they were teenagers again, working together on whatever experiments they could come up with. 

They ran back and forth between the crushed car and the garden hose, filling up jug after jug with water. Each time they added another jug, Stan lifted it again. When they got to ten jugs, no more would fit inside the flattened vehicle without them falling out, but Stan could still lift it without much trouble. Ford got the bright idea to use the web fluid to stick more jugs to the car. They finally had to stop at 105kg, not because Stan could no longer lift it, or because the line had broken, but because they were out of water containers.

“Pfew!” Stan wiped his brow as he finished the last lift. “How much did that last load weigh in normal weight?”

Ford rolled his eyes. “Pounds can hardly be considered normal weight when the United States is the only country that still uses them widely.”

“Fine, how much did I lift in abnormal weight?”

“Over 230 pounds of water, plus the weight of the car… I’d estimate around 1300 pounds! That’s over 300 pounds more than the current world record!”

“Haha! Yes! Eat it, world record guys! Pines! Pines! Pines!”

Ford chuckled and joined in the chant as they walked back home.

* * *

Things were going great. He and Stanford were finally getting along like brothers again! Which was why Stan was terrified to ask Ford about the triangle thing. Stan had a strong suspicion he wasn’t going to like the answer, and what if it led to yet another fight? Just because things were going better between the two of them now didn’t mean the situation wasn’t still delicate.

But he couldn’t just ignore it! His spider-sense had never steered him wrong before, and had in fact saved his life more times than he could count. If it was telling him something bad was happening to Ford, then he had to get to the bottom of it!

He was climbing the stairs up to the attic to go to bed that Friday when he finally worked up the courage to ask his brother a simple question.

“Hey Ford, could… could you tell me more about this thing?” He pointed down at the rug on the landing that had caught his attention his first night in the cabin.

Ford certainly looked caught off-guard by the question. “I thought you said it was creepy.” he finally replied icily.

“Well, yeah, but, you know me. I like creepy stuff.”

To Stan’s relief, this seemed to be the right answer, because now Ford was smiling like a proud mother hen and motioning Stan back down the stairs and into the library. 

“This mysterious figure can be found throughout history! It seems to be the inspiration behind many great civilizations and secret societies.” Ford narrated as he pulled out a large file filled with depictions of the one-eyed triangle. “More specifically, it inspires one brilliant mind a generation to lead their civilization, their society, into a new era of enlightenment!”

“Ok, but what does it want?”

“What?” Ford responded in confusion. “I--I just told you, it wants to enlighten civilizations.”

“Yeah, sure, but what does the triangle guy get out of it? Does he wanna be worshiped? Does he get a cut of the profits?”

Ford rolled his eyes. “Not everything is about money, Stanley!”

“I know, I know, I was just jokin’ about the profits thing.” But he wasn’t joking about the worship thing. “But no one does anything for free! What’s this thing’s angle?” 

Stanford just stared at his brother in disbelief. “You really have no concept of a selfless act, do you?”

“If this thing was selfless, it wouldn’t go plasterin’ its face, or symbol, or whatever it is all over!”

“You can’t assume he has any ulterior motives by just projecting human behavior onto a supernatural being!”

“And why are you so sure it’s some friendly ‘enlightenment’ giver?”

“Because I--” Ford’s expression suddenly went blank and his eyes drifted to some point behind his brother. 

Stan turned around and saw nothing, but he did notice that same twinging spider-sense again. He suspected if he’d been wearing those special goggles right now, he’d see that same sickly yellow aura around his brother.

“Ford? You ok?” Stan asked. No response. “Stanford, snap out of it!” He went to snap his fingers in front of his brother’s face, but a six-fingered hand shot up and grabbed his own instead.

“Just a second.” Ford shushed him with a far-away, dreamy voice.

“Seriously, you’re freakin’ me out.”

“Shhsh!”

After a few more seconds, Ford gave a small nod before focusing back on his brother.

“Sorry about that, Stan. I… uh… I zoned out for a moment there.” He laughed weakly. “I think we both need to go to bed.”

Stan snorted as he watched his brother rush down the hall to his own bedroom. Stanford did have a tendency to zone out from time to time, but that was usually while he was caught up reading or studying or just staring into space, not right in the middle of an argument. And when Ford was zoning out, he wasn’t paying attention to anyone, so he certainly never had to shush anyone. It was almost like Ford had been trying to listen to something. But Stan had super-hearing, and he hadn’t heard a thing. 

Unless… Stan remembered the triangle floating out of Ford’s head a few nights ago… Unless it was something Ford could only hear in his mind.

* * *

As Ford had hoped, he found himself in his mindscape almost as soon as he fell asleep, his muse floating before him. Which was good, because he really needed a word with Bill now.

“You disappear for four nights, only to show up while I’m awake again! And in the middle of a conversation, no less!” He made his annoyance clear.

“WELL EXCUSE ME, I THOUGHT YOU WANTED SOME QUALITY TIME WITH YOUR BROTHER!”

“I do, but that doesn’t have to exclude your night visions, does it? And that doesn’t excuse jumping into the middle of our conversation just to stop me from telling Stan about you!

“I WAS JUST LOOKING OUT FOR YOU, SIXER! YOU WERE ABOUT TO DO SOMETHING YOU’D REGRET LATER.”

Ford sighed. “You’re right, as always. Thank you. Letting slip that I have a literal muse in the middle of an argument certainly isn’t how I want him to find out. I need to find the right time to tell him.”

“I WOULDN’T RECOMMEND IT.” 

“Please, Bill, I know Stanley can be a valuable asset in building the portal! We’ve been testing his strength, he can lift upwards of a thousand pounds! Immagine what he can do to help with salvaging parts from the alien ship or placing the superstructure frame!”

“LOOK, SIXER, IF YOU TELL YOUR BROTHER YOU’RE GETTING YOUR IDEAS FROM ME, AN OTHERWORLDLY MUSE WHO ONLY CHOSES ONE GREAT MIND A CENTURY, ONE OF TWO THINGS’LL HAPPEN. EITHER HE’LL THINK YOU’RE A NUT-JOB, OR HE’LL GET JEALOUS THAT YOU WERE CHOSEN INSTEAD OF HIM. AND I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO REMIND YOU WHAT A JEALOUS STANLEY IS CAPABLE OF.”

“... He says it was an accident.”

“WE BOTH KNOW YOU DON’T REALLY BELIEVE THAT. AND EVEN IF IT WAS TRUE, DID THAT SAVE YOUR SPIDERS?”

“... No.”

“THEN WE’RE AGREED! YOU’LL KEEP STANLEY IN THE DARK. ALTHOUGH, I GUESS WE COULD STILL USE HIM TO HELP BUILD THE PORTAL. THAT SUPER-STRENGTH SURE WILL COME IN HANDY!”

“Well, if you didn’t want Stan finding out, you shouldn’t have interrupted me earlier. Now he’s bound to be suspicious.”

“AW, I’M NOT WORRIED. A GENIUS LIKE YOU WILL FIGURE IT OUT, NO PROBLEM!”

Ford smiled. “Thanks, Bill, your confidence in me really does make me feel better.”

* * *

Stan wasn’t completely surprised when his spider-sense went off again just an hour after he’d gone to bed. It was the smallest period of time between warnings yet, but Stan was finally getting an idea of what this weird twinging spider-sense was trying to warn him of, so the frequency didn’t bother him. If it really was the triangle guy, then it made sense that he’d come back after whatever had happened to Ford earlier.

Now, what to do about it? Obviously, waking Ford in the middle of whatever was going on just made him mad. Was there a way to communicate with it? Catch it? 

Stan had a dream catcher hanging from his rearview mirror in his car. He didn’t remember where he’d gotten it. He’d probably bought it to cover for all the actual valuables he’d stolen from some gas station or gift shop somewhere. He knew it probably wouldn’t work. It was just some mass-produced trinket, not a genuine article crafted by a Native American who knew what they were doing. But for the time being, Stan didn’t have any other options. It was worth a shot.

After grabbing the dream catcher, the web shooter, and the anomaly goggles, Stan crept into Ford’s room and dangled the cheap trinket over Ford’s head with a line of webbing. He didn’t have to wait nearly as long this time. After just five minutes, Stan saw the triangle float out of his brother’s head again. He was honestly surprised when the thing stopped half-way through the web. It started to struggle, like it was stuck. Just as Stan was about to reach out and grab it, the triangle guy just rose out of the dream catcher like it wasn’t even there. It stared directly at Stan. Despite the fact that it didn’t speak, and only had one eye for a face, it’s expression clearly read “Haha, just kidding. You actually thought that would work? Idiot.”

“W-wait, I just wanna talk!” Stan whispered as quietly as he could. Thankfully, Ford didn’t wake.

The triangle guy looked at Stan intently. And then disappeared.

Stan huffed in frustration and carefully cleared away all evidence that he’d been in his brother’s room that night. Well, that hadn’t worked. But he wasn’t going to give up yet.

* * * 

JWZ CFAY PLVST EIQD, SCM? PPTQ, FLGGX T ENEW IWKLVLX QWW T WQYMWM HALB. N’EW PFOP BT VLTQ BY I KXH XFPYA KBCAY.

[theonceoverthinker]

When Will My Life Begin (Fair Game 4/?)

Summary: Tangled AU. Clover Callows has been confined to a tower for all of his life, and given the threat that his Uncle Tyrian says his semblance poses to his safety, he accepts that fate. It’s the only life he’s ever known, after all. But when he’s offered the opportunity to fulfill his greatest dream after a chance encounter with a thief -- or bandit, as Qrow Branwen insists there’s a difference between the two -- both Clover and Qrow will discover joys that they never knew life could offer them before. AO3

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A/N: Wahoo!!! I managed to get this done on time!!! I hope you all enjoy!

()()()()()()()()()

Clover considered himself pretty knowledgeable when it came to his body. 

It shouldn’t have come as a shock to anyone. After all, he spent an awful long time getting to know it without the hassle of constant distractions and a biology book at his disposal since his eleventh birthday that was now in dire need of glue just to keep itself together. 

Much of Clover’s life had been spent exploring his physical limits. Exercise was a key part of that, with much of his day used to stretch, work out, climb, pull, and reel. He’d seen the developing muscles across his limbs act as the payoff of that work.

Injuries were another. A child could only be so safe when left alone in a tower for much of a day, and even with the hindsight gained through maturity, injuries as a result of experimentation with what he could and couldn’t do were inevitable. Even when he wasn’t suffering them, he closely studied Raven’s injuries as well as his uncle’s when he could get a peek of or information about their existences.

But all the same, those experiences, both good and bad were fantastic teachers. The human body -- as well as the body of a bird -- was such an interesting thing to Clover. It was frail, yet durable and nuanced in its structure as muscles, bones, nerves and veins all made their homes in an interconnected mass that combined to create a living, breathing, thinking, feeling being. A million things could hurt a body, but a million things could also save it, and that wasn’t even factoring in the effects of semblances, an effect that in all honesty, he only had the vaguest idea about.

Many an hour was spent by Clover studying his book’s diagrams as well as his own growth, thinking about all the possibilities for how that one bodily structure could go about life in such a world as theirs.

So yes, Clover felt he knew the human body -- mostly his -- quite well.

However, despite all of his knowledge about that body, he had no idea how in the world he could possibly slow down the rapid beating of his heart as he approached his uncle.

Well, that wasn’t true. Clover knew plenty of ways to do so, but that rapid beating in his heart made it all the way over to his ears, deafening them to even the thought of any of those methods.

But he didn’t need to hear those methods -- today, he had no problem with letting his anticipation and excitement over asking what he was about to ask fuel the fire in his heart.

He was going to do it.

Oh Gods, he was really going to do it.

“Clover!” 

The second time his Uncle Tyrian said his name was noticeably less patient than the first. Clover would be lying if he said it wasn’t just a bit annoying.

To be fair though, that impatience was very much understandable. Uncle Tyrian only had so much time to spend with Clover in the morning before he had to go to work, and he wanted to make sure each and every possible second of it was spent by Clover’s side. The process of getting him up the tower took long enough as it stood, so any further delays on top of it were just an additional hassle, and Clover absolutely felt the same.

Greeting and helping his uncle into the tower was the high point of Clover’s morning, and had been for ages. It not only provided him with the most activity he’d experience until his uncle’s return at sunset, but it gave him a friendly face on top of it all.

“Hello, uncle!” Clover called down to the bottom of the tower. “Looking good today!”

Despite the gentle wind’s efforts, he could hear the light sound of his uncle’s chuckle. 

“I’m surprised you can tell one way or the other from all the way up there!” he said. “Bring me up!”

“Of course! Just another second, please!”

Clover quickly grabbed Kingfisher, aiming the weapon with his eyes. Once he was perfectly in place, he held his weapon above his head and behind his left shoulder, and then swung it downward, just as he’d done hundreds and hundreds of times before.

Just as it did everyday, Clover felt the familiar bit of pressure in the reel as Uncle Tyrian clicked Kingfisher’s hook into its usual spot and heard the ever so faint sound of him stepping onto their mechanism’s stone base.

“I’m ready!” Uncle Tyrian called out to him, and with that, Clover started pulling.

Kingfisher’s reel was strong -- it had lifted him plenty of times -- but lifting a person positioned on the heavy stone his uncle stood on was something Clover knew that reel wouldn’t be able to handle. Because of that, for the sake of keeping the reel’s strength and structure intact, Clover elected to regularly pull his uncle up to the tower by reeling in the line with his own two hands, bit by bit.

It was a good thing he had the foresight to take up wearing leather gloves when he pulled. 

Whether the thing being pulled was made of the plant stems or metal, rope burn was a pain no one should have to deal with.

Clover lifted his uncle all the way up the tower to its window. As he exited the stone pulley, Clover gently lowered it down again until he was sure he could let it drop without risking cracking the stone itself.

When the task of resetting the pulley was at last done, Clover turned to greet his company.

“Good morning, Uncle Tyrian!” he called out. As Clover approached, Uncle Tyrian took a gentle hold of his head, giving it a kind pat.

“Clover! My boy,” he said through a dramatic, yet goofy sigh, “how you’ve configured that weapon of yours so you can pull me up each and every day, all on your own, I don’t know how you do it.”

“Oh,” Clover waved off as the hug broke, “it’s nothing.”

Uncle Tyrian smiled, almost too sweetly, as he released his hold on Clover. “Then I don’t know why it took so long,” he said, the slightest hint of a sing-song fashion in his voice as his index poked Clover’s nose to a rhythm his uncle developed. Clover frowned, causing Tyrian to laugh. “Oh, boy. I’m just teasing,” he cooed, right before walking himself further into the room.

Clover forced out a chuckle. His uncle had a tendency to joke around with him, no doubt a means of bringing some extra joy to his small and quite lonely world. It wasn’t that Clover didn’t appreciate it...but his uncle’s jokes had a habit of seldom being as funny as Clover imagined his uncle found them -- not to mention, sometimes, it was hard to tell what was a joke and what wasn’t. 

Uncle Tyrian was, in a word, opinionated...very, very opinionated. He had something to say about everything, and what he usually said amounted to pointing out what was wrong with or what could be improved about whatever point of discussion came his way.

Of course, he wasn’t without his compliments -- Uncle Tyrian was by no means a cruel man. He appreciated Clover’s meal preparation and how much easier their pulley system made his morning climb than before. Criticisms were just his uncle’s way of trying to make his and Clover’s world better.

And that was a good thing, Clover supposed. Life in a tower or not, there was something to be said for effort and one’s quality of life. If anything, the fact that his uncle gave him critiques showed trust. It was a trust that Clover could improve, do more than he expected to, despite his limitations.

It was inspiring.

Clover just wished the difference between what was supposed to be inspiring and what was supposed to make him laugh was made just a little bit clearer. But perhaps that was a nuance that was more organically recognized in the world outside of the tower.

Uncle Tyrian probably picked it up.

He never would.

No...he would because he was finally going to ask for the chance to see just a glimpse of that world for himself.

It was finally time.

Clover took a deep breath, and finally enacted his plan. 

“Uncle Tyrian,” Clover started, following him to the mirror by his closet. “As you know, tomorrow is-”

“Clover,” he interrupted, taking hold of Clover’s shoulder and pulling him beside him in front of the mirror. “Do you know what I see in that mirror? I see a strong, bright, handsome man.” Clover smiled at the unashamed compliment, and let himself lean more into his uncle’s touch. 

“Oh look,” he then continued, “you’re there too.” A fit of laughter took over his uncle.

And there was the punchline…

Clover hoped his love for his uncle was something Uncle Tyrian never questioned, but all the same, his uncle really needed to work on his material.

Though he tried his best not to, Clover couldn’t help but drop the fragile smile that he’d built in the span of those few precious seconds before the proverbial other shoe was dropped.

At the sight of that, Uncle Tyrian playfully ruffled his hair. “Oh Clover, I’m just teasing! You really need to work on that oversensitivity of yours.” Uncle Tyrian then stepped away from the mirror and headed towards the breakfast table. “Now, what have you made for us today, boy?”

Before Clover answered, he took a second’s pause for a deep breath, still recovering from his uncle’s joke. 

He told himself to relax, reminded himself that today yielded a far bigger prize to focus on, and repeated a sentiment he’d argue many a time in the past -- if his uncle’s questionable taste in comedy was his biggest failing, then Clover would take it with a smile the size of this very tower itself on his face.

Perhaps his uncle was right about his oversensitivity…

Well, if that was the case, then Clover would just have to show him that he could overcome that, too.

Clover smiled, walking over to Uncle Tyrian’s side of the breakfast table and pulling his uncle’s chair out for him. 

“I’m so happy you asked,” he said once his uncle was situated, leaning towards the dish. “For today, I’ve prepared for us fresh bread rolls with cinnamon and brown sugar baked into the dough, an apricot spread, and some lemon tea.”

Tyrian hummed, clearly impressed. “Sounds good. And might I add that someone’s feeling confident,” he said, smiling a bit.

“What can I say?” Clover returned. “When I get to make breakfast for the world’s best uncle, I do it well.” He chuckled as he gave his uncle a pat on the shoulder, right before taking off for his own side of the table. As Clover sat down and spread his jam over his roll, he watched his uncle do the same and take his first bite. 

He looked pleased.

That was a good sign.

It was now time to try again.

“So Uncle, I-”

Uncle Tyrian moaned in delight. “These are fantastic,” he said through a full mouth, pointing his free hand at the roll in his hand. “Clover, you are a God in the kitchen.”

“Well, you told me my mother was quite the baker. I felt like I owed it to her to try to do the same.”

“You’re a good boy, Clover -- always doing just what your parents wished you to do.”

Clover felt his smile wane.

Yes, he was a good boy.

Yes, he did always do just what his parents wished him to do.

But yes, he was also going to request to defy their dying plea.

It would only be for a single day -- barely a blink of an eye compared to the lifetime he’d dutifully spent in this tower already, and would continue to dutifully spend in this tower once he did it.

All the same though, it was undeniably a defiance he would be suggesting.

What would his parents or his uncle think of that?

Suddenly, Clover found that his heart was quite heavy.

“You know, Clover,” Uncle Tyrian continued, paying Clover no mind. “Your bread is nice, but when’s the last time you cooked up some eggs or sausage? A big, strapping young man needs protein in his diet. ...And so do you!” At that comment, he started laughing again. “I’ll need to pick you up some the next time I go out.”

Clover forced a laugh, trying to regain his metaphorical footing.

What was he thinking, asking to do this?

But then, Clover felt the tiniest bit of heat from behind him. 

He had a feeling of its source.

Still, perhaps seeing it with his own eyes would help him make a decision.

Clover grabbed his butter knife and made a move to get some more jam for his roll. However, the knife ‘slipped’ out of his hand just before he could.

Oops. 

From across the table, his uncle gave him a wistful shake of the head, one Clover responded to with naught but a shrug of his shoulders, a silly smile, and a chuckle under his breath before ducking under the table to retrieve it. 

Once under the table, Clover looked behind him, towards the possible source of the heat he felt on his back.

Sure enough, looking right back at him was Raven. 

A bird could only be so expressive. Clover knew that to be true. 

However, the look she gave Clover was one that could be nothing else other than pure encouragement.

It did the trick of melting Clover’s anxieties away like honey in a cup of tea.

She was right. He could do this.

‘Thank you,’ he silently mouthed to her just before grabbing the knife and rising back up to the table. Raven gave him a nod from her hiding spot. Clover then grabbed his knife and brought it over to the kitchen area’s sink. 

“Uncle,” he said. “Can we talk?”

“It was my belief that we were already talking,” Uncle Tyrian replied, smirking.

Clover returned the smirk with one of his own.

“What was it you always told me about not being a smart ass?” he said, unable to keep the laugh out of his voice.

“I’m not a smart ass,” his uncle returned without so much as a beat passing between them. “I’m just smart.”

Clover had to admit that was actually a good joke.

The two of them shared a laugh. It had been a while since they both did at the same time, and Clover loved the feeling of them unequivocally sharing such a warm moment more than he could ever explain.

And the fact that Uncle Tyrian’s mood had nicely improved as a result of such a moment right before Clover was about to ask him his question didn’t hurt either.

As it turned out, Clover was smart, too.

“So Uncle,” he said when the laughter had at last subsided. “As I’m sure you know, tomorrow is my birthday.”

Uncle Tyrian gave him a look similar to just a bit earlier, confused, but almost sarcastically.

“No, no, no,” he said, shaking his head. “Your birthday was last year. You remember, right?”

Clover gave him a pointed look. “You know birthdays are kind of an annual thing, right?”

“Are they though?”

“Yes, uncle,” he said, half teasing and half tired.

Finally, Clover took a deep breath.

It was time. 

“Uncle,” he continued. “I’m turning twenty-one tomorrow, and I wanted to ask.” Clover took a pause to sigh and collect himself. 

It was really happening. He almost didn’t know how to process that, let alone ask for it.

All memories of the hours of practice he put into this moment abandoned him.

Oh well, looks like he was gonna wing it. 

“What I really want for this birthday,” he said when at last ready. “Actually, what I’ve wanted for quite a few birthdays now…”

Clover could tell that the changes to his voice as a result of his reliance on improvisation pulled down his voice’s pitch and quickened its pace, now sounding like something that resembled a mumble, but he’d hoped Uncle Tyrian wouldn’t call attention to it.

He did.

“Clover, please,” Uncle Tyrian interrupted, dramatically sighing in an unamused tone. “You need to stop with the mumbling. You know how I feel about the mumbling. Everything you’re saying is just ‘Blah-blah-blah-blah-blah.’” he mocked, and in true Uncle Tyrian fashion, as soon as he was done admonishing Clover, Clover knew he was going to go right back to teasing him or praising him or something else, unintentionally deflecting from and further delaying the conversation. 

But Clover wasn’t going to let that happen again.

“I want to see the floating lights!”

The words all but flew off of Clover’s lips. If Clover himself didn’t feel himself say them, he wouldn’t have believed that they were actually even said.

However, they were.

For a long moment, everything and everyone in the room basically froze.

He’d said it. There was no taking back the request.

Now, it was a matter of how his uncle would respond.

Clover studied his uncle’s face. It flashed through expressions of shock, confusion, and reluctance over the following few seconds.

He knew he was going to have to argue for his request after he at last vocalized it, so those expressions didn’t surprise him, nor did the single word that followed.

“What?”

It was now on him to elaborate on what he meant, and thankfully, he had the perfect visual representation of that.

Clover swiftly moved over to the curtains, the mask that had shielded a certain painting of his from his uncle for years.

Now though, it was time for that mask to finally be lifted.

Pulling at the curtains, Clover revealed the painting he’d made of himself watching the floating green lights.

“These,” Clover clarified. “I was hoping you could take these floating lights.”

He looked away from his painting and back to Uncle Tyrian, who was now studying it.

However, he did so only for a moment before smiling with recognition.

For the brief moment before his uncle responded, Clover let himself hope.

And then he spoke.

“Oh,” Uncle Tyrian said, nodding as his recognizing smile persisted. “You mean the stars. They are beautiful, but you won’t find a better view of them than you have in your tower.”

“N-no, uncle, please,” Clover said, raising his hand in a stopping motion. He grabbed Kingfisher, unhooking it from the pulley and shot its hook towards the upper part of his tower, where a little door had existed that acted very much like a window. The miniature door not only made for a nice skylight, but also illuminated a sky chart he’d developed. 

“I’ve been studying astrology for years now,” he continued, “and whatever these lights are, they aren’t stars. They don’t stay in the sky for weeks or months at a time like stars do. They just appear on my birthday -- only my birthday. And...I just can’t help but feel like these lights and I are connected somehow.” 

Clover sighed. He hoped to the Gods that he was making sense. 

“Uncle, I need to see these lights, in person, and finally understand what they are.”

He’d never let his passion bleed for anything in his life like how he let it in this moment.

Upon saying those last words, Clover signaled to Uncle Tyrian that he was done speaking as well as thanking him for letting him do so uninterrupted.

Uncle Tyrian took a small pause, and then a deep breath. 

“You want to go outside?” Uncle Tyrian clarified, his face and tone neutral.

“Yes.”

“You want to go against your parents’ final wishes for you?” It was said in the exact same way as the previous question.

Clover knew those words were going to come up. He knew his body would take it like ice water down his back, and tried to prepare himself for the feeling.

As it turns out, all the preparation in the world couldn’t make that notion feel any less painful than it did when it was finally out.

However, Clover had also planned out his answer to that inevitable question.

He nodded. “Yes.” 

Uncle Tyrian gave him a dark look, filled to the brim with disappointment. “But,” Clover quickly added, “it would only be for a day, and you’d be with me the whole time! I bet you know good places to hide, and quick roads to take if we need to escape! You could keep me safe. So, please? Will you take me?”

Clover prayed that Uncle Tyrian could see the desperation and pure want that coursed through his entire being -- that he could tell that while Clover knew the risks of such a request, he wasn't intending on going through with this plan with naught but a childlike understanding of the world, and that he wouldn’t ask something like this if he didn’t long for it with every fibre of his heart, just like he did now.

Maybe Uncle Tyrian did see that.

He probably did, judging by the look on his face.

That didn’t make his response any easier to hear.

“Oh, Clover,” he said, getting up, approaching Clover, and taking his cheek into his hard, bony hand. “When your poor father -- my brother -- died protecting you, he begged me to watch over his most adored and fragile treasure, and I promised him I’d do everything in my power to ensure your safety for as long as I lived.”

“And, I know, uncle, but-”

“It’s a dangerous world out there, Clover.”

“You’ve told me that, but-”

“So, what else is there to say?” Uncle Tyrian gave him the floor, expectantly looking at him as he waited for a response.

Clover tried desperately to come up with an answer to that...but with every rebuke that came to his mind, he knew exactly what his uncle would say to shoot it down. 

His strength? ‘Men out there have four times the strength you do, boy!’

His weapon? ‘That little fishing pole of yours won’t do anything against the weapons those outside the tower have!’

His stealth? ‘What stealth? You’re as subtle as a strike of lightning!’

“I-I just think-,” Clover started, trying once more to argue his point.

And just as some part of him knew it was going to happen, that was as far as he got.

“That’s the thing, Clover,” Uncle Tyrian interrupted, peering straight into his eyes. “You just think, but you don’t know.” With his free hand, Uncle Tyrian placed a hand to his own heart, smiling ever so slightly as he did so. “I do know, and I’m here to keep you safely cocooned from the world.”

Clover’s feelings on the way Uncle Tyrian described the tower they dwelled in was something of a mixed bag. Often, it was fine enough -- a safe place, rustic, unassuming. But when he said things like ‘cocooned,’ it just felt so confining, like a blanket tucked around his too tightly, constricting his arms and chest entirely. It made Clover want to go outside of it more than ever. 

In that moment, it served to strengthen Clover’s resolve, however minorly.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be from all of the world?” Clover suggested, optimistically, yet slowly, in much the same way that one drank a cup of piping hot tea.

Uncle Tyrian laughed. 

“Clover, Clover,” he said, patting Clover’s cheek. “You’re such a naive, funny boy, and I love you for that. But the world isn’t so simple to manage -- it never has been. I know you. You’ll let just a little bit of it into your life, thinking it won’t be too much, and then a bit more, and before you know it, the chaos of the world will find its way into this safe haven your father left you, and then you’ll be kidnapped and sold off, or perhaps even worse once they realize that you can’t control your semblance!”

Clover winced, audibly despite his efforts for it not to be.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t aware of the dangers he knew going outside would present. He could never let himself forget, nor would his uncle ever let him forget either. However, being reminded of those very dangers so directly never failed to send shudders down his spine and make his skin feel like it was crawling up it.

...Not to mention, Uncle Tyrian was right about Clover semblance. If anyone knew…

And like his uncle always said, even if they didn’t know...they’d find out, and sooner, rather than later, at that. 

“Clover,” Uncle Tyrian continued, “I’m a strong man, but I can only do so much once I’m outnumbered. I couldn’t bear the thought of anything ever happening to you -- not on my watch. And I know you wouldn’t wish to put me in danger, either.”

“O-of course not, uncle,” Clover quickly assured. “I’d never want you to get hurt, especially for me.”

“Nor would I ever want you to be hurt. But don’t worry, Clover. You’re exactly where you belong -- away from danger -- nice, safe, and happy in this tower, and that’s exactly how you’ll stay. Be glad for that, my boy. Not everyone is so lucky.” Uncle Tyrian pinched Clover’s cheek. Clover knew it was meant to be in a joking way, something to lighten the mood between them, but it was just a bit too tight a pinch to do that for his taste. Even still though, Clover forced a chuckle.

“Y-yes, uncle.”

Uncle Tyrian looked at the clock, making a ‘tsk’ noise with his lips and teeth. “Is it eight-forty five already?” he half-groaned. 

Clover looked at the clock. Indeed, it was. 

That meant it was time for him to leave for work.

“Where does the time even go?”

Unfortunately, Clover had a pretty good idea, and if this conversation solidified anything, it was that that would remain the case for a long time to come.

“No idea, uncle. Let me get the pulley ready for you.” Clover turned away from his uncle as he started to make his way towards the window, trying all the while to desperately eat his frown before his uncle saw it. He succeeded in at least cloaking it behind a neutral expression.

Of course, Clover knew there ran the risk of this plan failing...but experiencing that reality was nowhere near as bad as imagining it had ever been.

He should’ve known it was stupid to try...

“Before you do,” Uncle Tyrian said, his words stopping Clover in his tracks and having him turn back to face him. “I have some good news for you, Clover.”

“Oh?” Clover asked, trying with all his might to simultaneously will his semblance to do something for him and to will his hopes away.

His semblance, as per usual, did nothing of the sort.

“My work is on the lighter side today, so I can come home early. I’ll bring some food, and we’ll have a delicious lunch together. How does that sound?”

On any other day, that would’ve been just about the best news Clover could ever hope to receive.

However, today, in comparison to his wish to see the lights and the clear rejection of that wish by his uncle, it just came off as a consolation prize more than anything.

But how ungrateful was that of him to feel, after all his uncle had done for him?

It wasn’t like Uncle Tyrian was saying no to his request to be mean -- he was just trying to keep Clover safe. And now, here he was, using the little time he had off of work not to treat himself to some alone time, but to instead do nothing more than spend a few extra hours with him.

No, Clover thought to himself, he couldn’t be that cruel, not to a man like that. 

He could always just work harder to show his uncle how strong and independent he could be and try again next year.

Quickly, Clover shook all morose feelings away and forced a smile.

“That’s great, uncle,” he said. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

Tyrian placed a hand on Clover’s head.

“I love you,” he said.

Clover felt his smile soften, because it was now completely and utterly genuine.

“I love you too, Uncle Tyrian.” With that, Clover turned around and readied the pulley for his uncle’s trip down.

The good news about the pulley’s reverse trip was that it was a lot less straining on his body and took noticeably less time, too. Within six minutes, Uncle Tyrian was safely on the ground, waving goodbye to Clover as he made his way through the vine-y entrance that shielded the tower from the world, promising Clover before he went too far off to be heard that he’d be back soon. Much like every morning, Clover waved back and watched as he disappeared into the vines.

When he was at last gone, Clover turned, and sat down against the window’s wall. 

Right next to him when he landed, Raven stood, placing her uninjured wing on his knee in an act of compassion. 

It was an appreciated sentiment, a comforting one...but it also served to remind Clover that he failed in his mission today.

He wouldn’t be seeing the floating lights this year.

In fact, if today’s conversation was anything to go by, he might not see them ever.

At least he still had the view from his window...but that was no longer the comfort that it had been in the years prior.

He’d asked...he’d argued as passionately as he’d ever dared...and had come away with nothing to show for it...

Clover knew a lot about his body.

If only he knew for the life of him how to will the fresh tears he was now shedding away.