#'maybe they would lay low for a few days before pursuing the plan to keep suspicions low'

[grinchwrapsupreme]

allowing yourself to write a novel will drive you insane actually i used to sing in the shower and now i think about Plot Points in there

[write-r-die]

Prisoner - Part 17

March 1067, Norman Conquest of England 

Masterlist

A/N: Drama!!

gif from demivampirew

For the first time in a long time, Thomasin felt safe.

Henry made her promise never to remove the pendant he gave her. It seemed terribly important to him, though Thomasin didn’t know why. Still, she agreed without question.

Henry never did shout at her. He didn’t like being angry, especially with someone he loved. Instead, he sat his wife down like a child and looked very deeply into her grey eyes while simply telling her she would never disobey him again, nor would she disagree with him in public. She was welcome to shout and scream and call him all sorts of names when they were alone together, but their situation was precarious. They had to present a united front so no one – just Lawrence, really – would think to pit them against each other.

Lawrence, though, seemed the same as ever. Maybe even scarier. He always had that awful grin on his face. He never got red; that’s what really worried both Henry and Tom. He was too calm, too self-assured. He planned out what he would do to them; now they were stuck in fear until he decided to act. It had only been a week since the wedding, and there was no telling how long Lawrence would wait. But he wasn’t a patient man.

Henry didn’t let Thomasin see his fear over Lawrence’s retribution. Since the wedding, she’d become all soft and willing. He thought she showed something akin to vulnerability. When they were alone, she would sit on his lap or press herself right against his side. They needed to be touching when they went to sleep, either with Henry spooning against her back or Thomasin lounging across his chest. She demanded his attention and affection. Henry obliged her, even going beyond. He’d kiss her in public when he thought no one was looking. She didn’t even mind.

He met her vulnerability with steady confidence. He’d sworn to look after her more times than he could count, and now that she was finally allowing it, he didn’t want to show any weakness. That was what husbands did for their wives – they remained strong and sure.

Henry asked a baron sailing back to Normandy to deliver the message to his family that he was wed; he was quite sure his mother would cry upon hearing the news.

“Should we send someone to tell your family?” he asked that night as he and Tom lay in the dark together. He was pressed tightly against Thomasin’s back. She used one of his arms as a pillow, and his free hand roamed over her body.

“I haven’t got a family,” Thomasin replied.

Henry nuzzled her rosy gold hair. “Yes, you do.” He kissed the back of her neck and sighed into her hair. “And you’ll never be rid of me.”

**

When the king finally summoned Henry, it wasn’t to chastise him. If he did mean to shout at Henry, it was low on his list of things to do. Henry found himself in something of a war council among other barons and knights of high praise.

“It is time to execute the Saxons,” William announced. “I’ve kept them alive for too long. It will embolden other rebels to attack if they believe I won’t kill them.”

“The rebels are all but gone,” a middle-aged baron said. “Even that young baron from the north has disappeared.” He looked at Henry from the corner of his eye; everyone knew he was referring to Hammond.

“Permanent imprisonment is not much better than death,” another put in. 

“All the same,” said the king. “The surviving Saxon prisoners will be put to death by hanging this afternoon. I expect you all to bear witness.”

“What about our wives?” a knight asked. Henry was grateful someone other than him asked the question. “Should they attend?”

William shook his head. “Tis no sight for a woman’s eyes.” He took a deep breath before declaring, “It is warm enough now to travel. We will hunt down the other rebels. If we cannot capture or kill them, we will at least run them out of England and keep them in exile for the rest of their lives.”

The men started shuffling out, murmuring to each other about the Saxon threat. Henry lagged behind the crowd, too lost in his thoughts to keep a fast pace. He was so distracted that he didn’t even notice when Lawrence sidled up beside him.

Lawrence made a sound like a sigh. “I do hope poor Tom won’t be too broken up over Cerdic’s execution.”

Henry felt like he had the wind knocked out of him. How did he find out about Thomasin’s relationship with Cerdic? How much did he know about it? What execution? Was that why the barons and knights were gathering?

But the true source of his fury was the fact that Lawrence had referred to his wife as Tom.

Lawrence looked at Henry from the corner of his eye. “Are you broken up, dear Henry?”

He turned his gaze to the other man, a savage look in his eyes. “You will never speak my wife’s name again. Do you understand me?”

Lawrence bowed his head in mock apology before moving along.

Henry paused in a nook in the corridor and ran his hand over his face. Damn.

Coming to England was like stepping in dog shit that one could never quite wipe away. Meeting Thomasin was like stepping in dog shit. One bad thing followed another like a cloying stink with that poor girl.

No, Henry realized. Thomasin meeting him when the troubles started.

***

Thomasin was grateful that Henry had been able to spend both his days and his nights with her. She knew it could not last forever, but she was sad all the same when he was called away, no doubt to discuss matters of war.

Now she would have to spend her days embroidering with other ladies or pursuing some other womanly hobby. She was never terribly good at that, though. At one point, her governess simply gave up trying to make Thomasin a proper lady. Her father let her have free reign of the estate so long as someone was always nearby and she returned to the keep by dark.

She imagined having a similar arrangement with Henry, but they first needed an estate of their own. Everyone assumed the king would give them the estate Thomasin grew up in, but she secretly hoped he would not. It would be haunted, at least for her, and she was sure she would never feel comfortable there. It wasn’t her home anymore. Just another conquered fortress.

The couple spoke a little of returning to Normandy so Tom could meet Henry’s family and there were some vague mentions of estates near his brothers that might be suitable for their needs, but they hadn’t had a real conversation about it.  What they wanted didn’t matter; William would likely keep Henry in England to fight his endless war against Thomasin’s way of life. Maybe they would be dismissed in a few years when things were calmer.

She would have to figure out how to spend her days. Her only true friend at court was Elaine, but the healer was often busy during the day. Thomasin accompanied her on a meeting with an elderly baroness with a horrifying rash; she would never do so again. 

She was returning from a brisk walk when she nearly crashed into her husband and his friends on their way out.

“Henry!” Thomasin bounced forward and grabbed onto his hand. She waited for him to kiss her while Charlie and Roger were pretending not to look. She knew something was wrong when he didn’t. “Are you well?”

Henry’s expression was as hard as it had been the day Thomasin tried to escape from him. She resisted the urge to step back. “Thomasin, go back to our rooms. Wait for me there.”

His clear agitation alarmed her; she spoke as calmly as she could. “Is something amiss?”

“Do as I say. I’ll be along soon.” He turned to Kal. “You go with her.”

Something must be truly wrong if Henry was willing to part with his shadow, even for an hour or two. Thomasin’s eyes flickered to Charlie for some hint of what was happening, but his expression was as stony as ever. Roger hadn’t stopped when Thomasin intercepted them so she could not look to him for clues.

She glanced at Henry one more time. He didn’t look all right. She wanted an explanation here and now, but she remembered her promise not to disobey him in public. Staying and demanding something from him would certainly count as disobedience. “Of course,” Thomasin said, forcing a mild tone of voice. She gave a shallow curtsey. 

She was chattering to Kal as they walked up a tight staircase when she heard a ruckus outside. There were no windows in the stairwell, only thin slats from which archers inside the castle could shoot at enemy soldiers in case of an attack, but they would do. 

Thomasin rocked up on her tiptoes to peer through one of them. There was a large cluster of men spread out across the field. They stood in clumps of three or four, talking among themselves as a handful of servants erected some makeshift structure she couldn’t quite make out. Perhaps if she had something to stand on, she would be able to see more clearly . . .

Kal made a grumbling sound. 

“I don’t mean to ignore you, Kal,” Thomasin said. “I just want to see what’s going on.” 

She never thought it unusual for one to speak to one’s pets, and Henry regularly held complex conversations with the bear, so she wasn’t embarrassed to talk to him in public as other women might be.

Thomasin pushed up a little further and caught a glimpse of fresh scaffolding, then of a handful of shackled men making their way over to it. The Saxon prisoners were finally being executed, then. Thomasin couldn’t blame Henry for not telling her. He was only trying to protect her.

She was about to turn away when she glimpsed a familiar silhouette and an even more familiar red beard. She squinted into the fading light as the hangman put a rope around the Saxon’s thick neck. 

She hated that neck. She once joked to Justina that she’d like to strangle him, but his neck was as sturdy as a thick branch on a tree. She’d only tire herself out trying to kill him.

Cerdic.

Thomasin was so shocked and upset that she pushed away from the window too hard and fell backwards; Kal softened her fall somewhat.

For a moment she couldn’t move or even draw in a lungful of air. Kal was breathing in right in her face, but she didn’t care. She felt removed from somehow, as if she weren’t truly in her body.

Cerdic was a ridiculous oaf, but she’d known him all her life. She’d cared for him not as a lover or brother or even a friend, but in the way a woman was expected to care for her husband-to-be. And he was all that was left of her life before.

It was easier when she thought he was dead, that he’d died in the fray along with most of the other Saxon men. She’d grieved him in her own strange way and put his memory behind her, but now everything swelled up again and tightened her throat. 

This was the last straw. She was strong but she wasn't made of ice. There was only so much someone could endure before they broke.

And Thomasin truly did break.

She ran to her rooms barely holding back tears. Her throat was sore with the effort of holding in sobs and her hands were shaking so hard that she almost couldn’t open the latch on the door to the antechamber. 

She barely made it through the antechamber and into the bedroom before she fell apart. She slammed the bedroom door before Kal could follow and fell forward on her hands and knees into the rushes scattered on the floor; she couldn’t hold herself together a moment longer, not even long enough to reach the bed. She began to weep so hard that she could barely breathe. She made choked, ugly sobbing sounds she couldn’t control that shook her shoulders as snot and tears ran down her face.

Kal whined and scratched at the door, desperate to comfort his mother.

Thomasin kicked the door hard enough to shake the hinges. “Go away!” she shrieked. Her throat was already raw.

She was too tired to move anymore, even to get into bed. She fell to her side and curled in on herself, shivering like a dog left outside in a storm, still whimpering and gasping for breath. 

***

Henry stood with Charlie and Roger as they waited for the executions to begin.

“You look unwell,” Henry remarked to his brother-by-law.

Roger heaved a sigh. “It’s always said when something beautiful dies.” 

“What, the men?” Charlie asked.

Roger turned to face his friends. “Their lives. Their spirits.” Their physical forms, too, of course. 

“That’s the nature of conquest,” Charlie said. “The old ways must end for the new ones to begin. If people cannot accept change . . .” He shrugged.

“I do not like the end part. You must feel some grief on behalf of Thomasin, Henry,” Roger said. “I cannot imagine. . .” he trailed off.

“I didn’t tell her,” Henry said. 

“She’ll find out,” Charlie said neutrally. He still didn’t like Thomasin by any stretch of the imagination, but he was coming to accept her. “Assuming she hasn’t already.”

Henry knew that, knew it would be better to tell her himself. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“I know,” he said. 

***

Cerdic had no last words – or if he did, Henry didn’t hear them. 

The men were strung up all at once, the nooses looped around their necks and the wooden bench kicked out from under them. A crueler king might have removed their heads one by one to heighten their fear, but William just wanted the business done with. He’d likely cut their heads off afterwards to mount on spikes near the city gates, though.

Henry left the first moment he could. Thomasin was probably fuming quietly in their room, probably repeatedly stabbing herself in the finger as she furiously embroidered something or other.  He hoped so. 

Charlie was right: Thomasin had probably found out about the executions somehow. He prayed that she didn’t know Cerdic was among the dead. He wasn’t sure what reaction to expect.

He tried to enter the antechamber quietly, but the room was deathly silent; every small sound he made seemed to echo. The first thing he saw was Kal stretched out in front of the door that led to the bedroom, his chin resting on top of his paws. He looked downright pensive.

“Kal.”

The dog leapt to attention as Henry knelt to scratch his ear.

“Good boy,” Henry murmured.

Kal whined, trying to communicate that something was wrong with Thomasin. He’d been guarding her as best as he could, but she wouldn’t let him into the bedroom.

Henry scratched Kal one more time before steeling himself. He opened the bedroom door. His wife lay on her side on the floor, still sniffling and hiccupping from weeping.

“Tom?” he knelt on the ground beside her. 

She moved her head the slightest bit to look up at him with bloodshot eyes. “You knew that Cerdic was here. That he was alive.” She was too exhausted to inject an accusatory tone into her raspy voice.

Henry took a deep breath. A lock of her rosy golden hair had gotten free of its braid; he gently tucked it behind her ear. “Yes.”

Her chin quivered as her eyes filled with tears. She shut them and turned away. “It was easier when . . .”

“I know.”

Her chin still moved. “I wish William had never come to England,” she said, voice high and tight. “I wish I’d never laid eyes on a Norman.”

Henry took a deep breath. “Tom, you can’t blame every Norm –”

“Yes I can!” She shouted, jumping to her feet. Henry stood, too. On the other side of the door, Kal whimpered. “It’s your fault! You came here and you took what wasn't yours and you killed the men and raped the women. My country is dead!” Her voice cracked. “I have nothing left! You took everything from me!”

Henry’s voice was low but strong. “You have me.”

“I don’t want you!” she shouted. Her words cut Henry like the blade of a knife. “You or your bastard king and your merciless countrymen! I wish I’d never met you! I – I –” 

I want to go home. 

“Enough, Tom,” said Henry. “You’ll give yourself a fit.” Thomasin reached for the back of her neck; Henry caught her hands in his and stopped her before she even touched the necklace’s clasp. “Don’t,” he said softly. 

Thomasin shoved away from him so hard she nearly fell backwards. Henry, who had the build of a stone wall, hardly budged. That made her so furious that she slapped him – tried to, anyway. Henry caught her wrist in his hand and used it to tug her close. 

“Let go!” she shouted. “Henry, let me go!”

But he held her to his chest and would not unlock his grip. She kept shoving and hitting him until he finally released her – only to capture her again.

Somehow, she was suddenly lying back on the bed, her wrists firmly locked in Henry’s grasp as he pinned them above her head. He hovered over her on his knees, locking her legs between his strong thighs to make sure she didn’t try to kick him in her anger.

“Thomasin, enough!” he shouted.

Exhausted, she finally gave up the fight. She sank limp against the bed and started to weep. 

She’d never cried in front of him before, Henry thought. He wasn’t even sure if she cried when she was wounded on the road. There were tears in her eyes on their wedding night and the day she tried to escape from him in the forest, but he didn’t think they ever spilled over.

He couldn’t stand to watch but he couldn’t look away. Thomasin needed him now. She was in mourning – for her father, her former betrothed, her relationships with her siblings, her country. She was mourning her own life, too, and what it might have been if William had never come.

“I hate you,” Thomasin whimpered through her tears.

“No, you don’t.” Her husband’s voice was tired but kind as he released her wrists and climbed off of her.

Her eyes were already shut; her outburst at Henry and fit of emotion after seeing Cerdic hanged drained her of all energy and she was on the very edge of sleep. “I hate you, Henry,” she insisted weakly. 

Henry knew she wasn’t sincere, that she was just speaking out of anger, but the words still stung him all the same.

It wouldn’t hurt him at all if she’d just say out loud that she loved him. He only needed to hear it once. None of her accusations or insults would bother him if he knew beyond a doubt that she loved him even half as much as he loved her. With those words, he’d be invincible.

But she didn’t say it. Maybe she never would. She loved him, Henry was sure of it, but she was too proud to admit it.

Tom’s tears had slowed and turned from sobs to sniffles to deep, loud breathing.

Henry stayed beside her in bed, both of them still fully dressed, and soon drifted off. She turned to him in her sleep, unconsciously taking her rightful place in his arms and against his chest. Henry didn’t wake; his body knew instinctively to put his arms around her.

[usergreenpixel]

Frev prompts, Part 4! 🎉

21. The protagonist is a high school student with a knack for drawing comics but they’re also the favorite target of the bullies at school.

One day the bullying gets so bad that the protagonist is unable to cope with reality anymore and, as a means of escapism, writes themselves into their new comic about their favorite topic - The French Revolution. With their favorite pen they had inherited from their writer grandfather, no less.

However, what was supposed to be a harmless little self-insert quickly becomes a reality when the protagonist is magically transported into their comic book and now has to navigate their own story and finish it in order to return to the real world, as well as figure out the mysterious powers of the magical pen.

22. Despite the fact that the days when the Bastille used to be packed with prisoners are gone, a handful were still trapped inside its gloomy walls by the time the infamous prison was taken.

The protagonist is one of the few prisoners who are sentenced to imprisonment inside the Bastille until they and the rest of the prisoners are set free by the revolutionaries.

For the first time in a long while, the protagonist is free but not all is sunshine and butterflies because the revolution is only beginning to escalate and the protagonist has long forgotten how to function in the society outside the prison.

With no other options, the protagonist decides to try and rebuild their life from square one, all while the events of the revolution are unfolding in the city of Paris.

23. Two friends, the protagonists, were raised together by a noble family as adopted wards and used to be close as children, but drifted apart when one of the two went abroad to get a good education.

Nevertheless, the childhood friends find themselves reunited by a pure coincidence during a meeting in the Jacobin Club, which both of them joined mere days ago.

All seems well, until it becomes apparent that the protagonists don’t exactly see eye to eye when it comes to politics in France nor the methods of solving the multiple issues plaguing the country.

This new rift between the protagonists only widens as the revolution progresses and the Jacobin Club gets split into groups on the basis of shared political beliefs.

Will the two protagonists be able to restore the friendship they used to have or will their new differences prove that maybe friendship isn’t always as almighty as people say?

24. The protagonist is acutely aware of the multiple injustices of the French society but they are not too eager to change things personally, hoping that maybe the government will find a way to fix things.

The protagonist, meanwhile, would rather focus on keeping their small family business (a bookshop) afloat and renting out an apartment in the house to make ends meet.

Soon, however, the protagonist ends up getting roped into the events of the revolution regardless when they accidentally overhear their new tenant discuss his plans in a hushed tone with a few other people.

The protagonist has all the evidence that they had unwittingly rented out an apartment to a revolutionary and now they have the evidence to turn that rebellious youth from Blérancourt in along with his buddies.

At first, the best course of action seems fairly obvious. Just report them to the authorities and be done with it.

However, perhaps these youths are more than just stupid kids playing at freedom fighting and maybe they can actually help the country.

When faced with the dilemma of either ratting the young rebels out or joining their cause, the protagonist makes a choice that ends up changing their entire life.

25. The year is 1811. Located near Saint-Petersburg, The Imperial Lyceum is a place where boys from noble families of The Russian Empire live and study. Perhaps the most famous Lyceum of all, it was home to plenty of those who would become prominent in Russian society of the time.

This is where the protagonist, one David de Boudry, teaches French to these boys.

Monsieur de Boudry knows that most of his students are blissfully unaware of a certain secret of his and likes it that way. It is best if they don’t know that he happens to be a younger brother to Jean-Paul Marat himself but changed his last name to avoid the associations.

Keeping this particular tidbit of his biography secret used to be fairly easy, until his older brother, Jean-Paul Marat, appeared in David’s life again on a snowy and frosty January day.

Marat is inexplicably alive, but he is also half-frozen and extremely disheveled when he shows up, not to mention the fact that he arrives with his wife and a very young child in tow. They all need a place to hide from the authorities, and fast.

Being a loving brother, David de Boudry hides his family and is now determined to keep them safe for not even a new name can sever family ties.

But, having made this difficult choice, will Monsieur de Boudry be able to reconcile his love for his family and the devotion to his adoptive home country? And will Marat be able to keep his loved ones and himself safe from the agents of police who lurk nearby and are quite hellbent on proving that the man they are pursuing is indeed the infamous Jacobin?

26. The protagonist is a sophomore who became a member of a Drama Club during their freshman year of high school and they are quite happy to finally have a friend group where they belong. Here nobody judges them for their stutter, their crossdressing and their fear of dogs.The protagonist is even allowed to play roles that would be normally reserved for the opposite gender just so they have an excuse to crossdress.

The upcoming play about the French Revolution is no exception and the protagonist is quite overjoyed but also frustrated that something just doesn’t ring true whenever they read their lines. Frustrated, they sneak into a time machine built by their parents and transport themselves to Paris of 1794.

They soon see that the city is in chaos and rumors about a traitor who had supposedly escaped the guillotine and went on the run with his family spread like wildfire. Moreover, the protagonist soon finds themselves in a bit of a pickle because of their name and physical appearance.

Even a man whom the protagonist saves from a mob advises them not to reveal their name and to lay low as soon as the protagonist introduces themselves. The protagonist is naturally confused but they do want to stay alive and free.

In order to survive, the protagonist decides to do what actors do best - improvise. It’s not easy, of course, but the protagonist tries to stay optimistic.

They hope that they will make it. They know they will. Giving up is not an option. After all, a Desmoulins never gives up. Right?

27. The French Revolution is not an easy period in history. It should be fairly obvious why.

The country is drowning in chaos and the future is uncertain, no matter how hard The Committee of Public Safety tries to maintain at least some semblance of order.

Meanwhile, in the heart of Paris, lives our protagonist whose main concern was not the revolution, but rather the fact that it’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep their inn’s doors open.

And then, one day, the unthinkable happens. A guest is found murdered in their room. Naturally, all the other guests are now suspects, and so is the staff. A diverse bunch of people with their own agendas, secrets and ties to the victim has gathered in the inn.

Sensing that something isn’t right, the protagonist decides to become an amateur sleuth and get to the bottom of the situation.

A “whodunnit” murder mystery is about to take place in the inn and the protagonist is determined to solve it.

28. A few years passed after the betrayal of the Thermidorians. The Revolution is destroyed and all of the enemies of the new government are dead… Except for one.

The protagonist is a patient in a mental hospital on the outskirts of Paris. Here the treatment of the patients is becoming more and more humane than it used to be before. That being said, the living conditions still leave a lot to be desired. Moreover, the protagonist feels isolated and lonely due to their personal issues and the trauma that caused them to become basically imprisoned in the facility.

Luckily, the loneliness disappears when the protagonist secretly manages to befriend another patient, a mysterious young man who is kept in isolation from the rest of the people at the facility, is forced to wear a mask to hide his face and is treated far worse than the others.

Horrified by the extent of the abuse that their new friend has to endure, the protagonist teams up with him to escape to Avignon, where the protagonist’s relatives live.

Little do they know, their new friend and partner in crime is an outlaw and a Montagnard, the last of them all, so when the two finally escape the police quickly catch wind of the situation.

Can the duo get to Avignon and avoid recapture? Will this unlikely friendship help them heal from their respective trauma? And will the revolutionary’s plan to avenge his executed friends be successful?

29. (Crossover with Greek mythology) When Adrestia, a minor Greek goddess, is banished to Earth from Mount Olympus for causing too much trouble, she assumes a human disguise and travels to France of 1789, where great changes are just around the corner.

Finally finding herself in her own element once again, Adrestia (whose human name is Adrienne) decides that she has no right to miss all the fun and joins the forces of the revolution. She is a goddess of revolt and a daughter of Ares, after all.

One would think that having a goddess on your side will make fighting easier, but things are not that simple and the other gods don’t exactly take kindly to troublemakers who go against authority.

Nevertheless, Adrestia is more than willing to try and help her new allies to win in their fight for Liberty, Equality and Fraternity.

30. When the protagonists first meet up in real life, they’re ecstatic. After a few years of chatting on the Internet, the two French Revolution enthusiasts have finally met each other face to face and now they decide to set an old plan of theirs in motion.

The duo wants to perform a time travel spell invented by their witch ancestors and change the way the French Revolution ended. The spell is successfully cast, but in the process the warlocks run out of magic and are now forced to wait in the past until they are strong enough to cast the spell again to return home.

But hey, at least while they’re waiting they can do what they always wanted to do - prevent the Thermidorian Reaction, and they are going to try to do just that, even though preventing a coup d’état is far from easy, especially for two college kids from the future.

31. It’s 1815. Joseph Fouché is the Minister of Police but his days in office are numbered and he knows it.

What’s more, rumors spread about the incompetence of the police as nobody can catch the culprit behind a new string of murders. Fouché hopes that cracking the case would restore his reputation, but something isn’t right about these murders.

So far, every single victim was a participant of the Thermidorian Reaction and it simply cannot be a mere coincidence. This pattern makes Fouché fear for his life and his reputation, as in addition to the murders the sins that he and his allies had pinned on their enemies begin to resurface.

Fearing that he is next and that his own crimes are about to be exposed as well, Fouché becomes obsessed with catching this mysterious vigilante. He even has a prime suspect in mind, but he can neither track him down nor prove that it was him.

Meanwhile, the time Fouché has to rehabilitate the police force is running out. Soon he too might face the music at long last, as well as learn exactly why sparing one of your enemies while killing the rest is considered to be a classic mistake.

Will the vigilante get to Fouché? How much time does the Minister of Police actually have left before karma knocks on his door? And why does the youngest police inspector in history, who is Fouché’s beloved protégé, turn against his mentor?

32. When the protagonist decided to sneak into the Catacombs of Paris for “shits and giggles” with their buddies, the last thing they expected was a sudden time travel to a closet in an apartment of a prominent revolutionary, whose skull the protagonist was holding in their hands seconds ago.

Naturally, the protagonist gets caught by the housekeeper and promptly accused of breaking and entering at best, and an assasination attempt at worst. It doesn’t help that the protagonist has strange pills and a baseball bat on their person.

But when they’re about to get prosecuted, the inhabitant of that same apartment suddenly speaks up on their behalf and defends the protagonist, claiming that it was a mere misunderstanding. Later, that same revolutionary visits the protagonist, reveals that he knows about the existence of time travel and promises to help, as long as the protagonist goes along with his plan.

Despite suspecting that the revolutionary has an ulterior motive, the protagonist does want answers so they agree to play along...at least for a while.

33. After the Revolutionary War in America, the protagonist follows his friend and mentor, Marquis de Lafayette, to Paris as he is the only family the hero has at this point.

At first, when the French Revolution rolls around, the hero still stays by his mentor’s side, never questioning his opinions and decisions and admiring him as a hero.

But after the September Massacres reveal Lafayette’s...less heroic side the hero is utterly broken and disappointed that he trusted the wrong person yet again. This revelation prompts the hero to switch sides and become a double agent, working with the Jacobins while pretending that he is still loyal to Lafayette.

Is this the correct choice to make or will the hero’s naïveté and a simple desire to belong betray him once again?

34. Maximilien Robespierre finds himself in a difficult situation. Somehow, everyone who crosses his path keeps going missing, only to turn up brutally murdered.

Moreover, Robespierre keeps receiving notes with rather...stalkerish messages written by the culprit. The stress and the crippling paranoia are slowly taking a toll on his frail body and he collapses altogether after finding out that Camille Desmoulins and Antoine de Saint-Just got attacked as well.

Fortunately, Saint-Just and Desmoulins manage to survive the ordeal and decide that enough is enough. After a long recovery, the two men decide to set aside their differences and track down the mysterious stalker before other people close to Robespierre get hurt.

Who knows, perhaps this buddy cop-esque adventure will even help Saint-Just and Desmoulins resolve their rivalry once and for all, now that a mutual friend of theirs needs both of them.

35. An immigrant enrolls into a high school in the country where they live now, a country located on the other side of the planet, miles away from their homeland.

Isolated from the rest of the students, shunned for their Eastern European accent (feel free to pick the specific country) and their Socialist beliefs, the protagonist has very few friends and even they are imaginary - three French revolutionaries whom the protagonist admires the most.

However, things change when a classmate bonds with the protagonist over their fascination with the French Revolution and the two decide to team up and write a novel about their favorite topic, all while the three imaginary friends, who may or may not be something more than a simple product of imagination, are guiding these kids on their quest to rehabilitate the legacy of the revolution.

P. S. The Fouché tag has been graciously lent to me by @frevandrest , the tag’s inventor. This needs to become an official tag imo.

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Act 1, chapter 8

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Content warnings: death mention, possible minor body horror with regards to injury

It had been a fortnight since Andariel. Morgan was adjusting to his new reality, one where speaking much louder than a whisper for more than a few sentences made it feel like he'd been screaming his throat raw. Where pain was out of proportion to the damage that caused it. Where his left arm was all but useless. Although he felt well enough to get up and move around, the wound on his arm showed no signs of closing. An inky colouration had spread out from the puncture, extending up above his elbow and down to his wrist. It turned his stomach to look at it. Any remaining strength in the limb was negated by the pain that shot through it at the slightest jostle or pull. Akara's expertise in the healing arts was not sufficient to handle a wound like this, caused by a demon queen and determined to linger. She had offered her sympathies and a supply of bandages, which at least allowed him to bind the damned thing so he didn't have to see it. His own limited knowledge of medicine did not extend to this manner of injury either, so simply keeping it covered and clean seemed like the best option available.

Morgan had been spending most of his time and energy on meditation and geomancy. Physical pursuits were not very attractive at the moment, so instead he focused on improving his magic. He would need it more than ever now, given the state of his arm. Eventually he would return to the graveyard he'd marked, to check on the restless spirits there, but he wasn't yet well enough for that journey.

The ground around the encampment was largely untended, but the soil was good. Morgan had been using it to flex his magical abilities cautiously, not wanting them to suffer from disuse. He turned small patches at a time, shuffling the richer earth up toward the surface bit by bit, until eventually there was a respectable area prepared. Nobody had asked him to install a garden, but it felt like it might be a useful contribution. It also helped to ground him. He had often tended the gardens back home, and found now that he was missing that work.

Short forays into the surrounding fields were still within the scope of Morgan's ability. Over the course of about a week, he'd managed to successfully transplant a reasonable variety of usable plants. Comfrey, feverfew, yarrow, and chamomile had all been easy enough to spot, and each had at least one medicinal use. They also had the benefit of being reasonably hardy, taking root well in the freshly turned earth. He had also experimented a little with some preparations of other plants he'd found - an outcrop of sway grass by a small lake, some sage nestled in among a patch of bright trefoil, a little bark from the willow just outside the encampment - but despite following standard procedures for preparation, none of the resultant concoctions did anything to relieve the pain of his injury. He took some fruits from what looked like an oleaster, intending to dry them for another attempt in the future, but he kept his expectations low. If the wound wasn't going to heal properly, it stood to reason that the other effects would also linger.

Cain had been good company, stopping by often. He inquired about the garden as it was talking shape and seemed legitimately interested in the various applications of the plants filling it. Morgan took care not to speak at too much length on any one topic, endlessly interesting though they were. Equally fascinating were the tales Cain had to share in exchange. The story of Tristram had been a sobering one, between the king's corruption by Diablo and the destruction it had wrought. And it seemed that it was not yet concluded, given the hero-turned-dark-wanderer who had fled. It would be worth pursuing that tale to its conclusion; Morgan's original request had been duly fulfilled, but the evident threat to the Balance was more pressing than returning to the Necropolis.

He'd also been alternating between meditating on ways to improve his clay golems and creating small versions to test the changes he'd thought of. So far he had come up with a lot of failed designs, going too far to the extremes to test the boundaries. A build with above average mobility that would crumble in combat, a strong and sturdy make that could absorb a great deal of punishment but would be too slow to hit anything that wasn't standing still. Now it was time to rein it in, to tinker with proportions and the flow of magic through the construct until something better emerged. Morgan slipped easily into the in-between state, retreating into his mind while his body rested in a comfortable cross-legged position. A pleasant breeze ruffled the leaves of the tree he was leaning against. Today would be good for focusing on the smaller details. He lost himself for a time in the contemplation of his designs.

A crawling, prickling discomfort pulled him back into reality. The sun was getting low in the sky. Someone had put their hand on his shoulder, and they were speaking to him.

"- word I've said, have you?" It was Blaise, looking annoyed.

Morgan shifted away from her, and she let her hand fall. "I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't hear you. I was meditating." The rough sound of his voice was another thing he was still getting used to. He rubbed his throat gingerly. Should have thought to keep some water nearby.

"Of course you were. I said, I talked to Kashya and she's agreed to give you some training. If you're going to keep fighting monsters and demons, you'll need some help. With your swordplay. It's not very good."

She was right, of course. Now that he could no longer hold a shield, his sword would have to be defensive as well - and magic had always been his strength, not actual physical strength or coordination. He'd been planning to refocus himself entirely on the magical side of things, but this was undeniably a good idea even if he didn't relish the prospect of physical training. Any formal instruction in the use of a sword would be useful.

"When?"

"You're welcome. Whenever you're ready. As soon as tomorrow." Instead of turning to go, she sat next to him. He expected her to keep talking, but she didn't. Maybe she was working up to something. The silence stretched uncomfortably. She didn't like him, she'd often said as much - so why was she staying so near? He'd been doing his best to be avoidable, true to his word. She hadn't been taking advantage of it, instead crossing his path at least once a day. Probably some sort of sense of obligation. The Sisterhood had been treating him with a cautious, grudging respect since Andariel's defeat. It was... strange.

That reminded him of a question he'd been meaning to ask. Now seemed as good a time as any, so he turned to study her. "Blaise. Why did you tell everyone I killed Andariel?"

She startled visibly and raised a hand to shush him. "What the hell, Morgan," she hissed, "you can't just say-" she cut herself off, looking around furtively. Apparently satisfied that nobody was eavesdropping, she continued in hushed tones. "Look, if Akara and Kashya knew I killed that big ugly bitch, they'd never let me get away from this backwater. It's different for you. They're expecting you to go. And when you leave, I'm going with you. At least until I'm well away from here. This place... I'm not really cut out to be part of something like this."

"Ah." That explanation made enough sense. He hadn't realized she wanted to leave, but then he often didn't realize things about other people. Perhaps he'd misinterpreted her loyalty as fondness. There wasn't always a correlation there. She hadn't exactly been talkative during their time together - not to him, not about personal wishes and desires. It also explained the closeness; by spending time around him, she was putting on a front, laying the groundwork that would justify her departure. Satisfied, he turned away to look at the sky. It was starting to be tinged with pink, and it was lovely to see.

"How do you do it?" Now it was her turn to scrutinize him. She was staring intently at his face as though it was going to hold anything other than confusion. Do what? Had he slipped back into his thoughts and missed part of the conversation? "I mean, doesn't it bother you?" That clarified nothing. He stared blankly, and she huffed. "People don't like you. As a necromancer. I mean, we didn't exactly give you a warm welcome. But there's no way it's just us. Your kind are... well, hated."

Oh, that. It was just a fact. He'd come to accept it easily enough. People didn't usually take kindly to him even before they knew his particular area of specialization. He shrugged, wondering idly what had lead to the question. She didn't seem to like that response.

"It's normal," he offered.

"It's not normal! How could you think that's normal? How do you... live with it?" She gesticulated, as though the waving of her hands might clarify her meaning. It did not. How else would he live? He took a moment to search for the words to frame it.

"As followers of Rathma, we are driven by pursuit of the Balance. What others think of us is not important."

"Not im- Morgan, of course it's important! The way people treat you matters. You have to rely on other people all the time."

"I try not to."

Blaise pinched the bridge of her nose as though the conversation was giving her a headache. "Yeah, I know you do. But sometimes you don't have a choice. Like - there's no way you could have gone up against Andariel alone, she would have killed you in a second."

"Mm." While certainly true, it didn't change much. Alone, he would have been more cautious, planned better. Probably died anyway. Others would have come to take his place. His individual life only held value in the contribution it could make toward the Balance. Death came inevitably to all things; to die in service was at least honourable.

Blaise seemed agitated. "I don't think you understand - this is life and death stuff. For fuck's sake, you nearly did die! When-" she lowered her voice, which had risen in frustration. It shook a little. "When I brought you to Akara, she argued with me. She didn't want to waste her supplies on you. She was just going to let you die on her doorstep, because she doesn't like you. That's not normal. You can't just think that's okay."

It certainly wasn't extraordinary. That was why necromancers generally brewed their own potions, not that he'd had either the time or the forethought to reach for his own during the encounter. He started to shrug again. Akara had been pleasant enough since - oh. All the pieces came together suddenly, but the picture they formed didn't quite make sense. Blaise had lied to save him. She'd decided, probably on an impulse, out of desperation, to frame him as the hero because the healer wasn't going to touch him otherwise. She had wanted him to live, and had sacrificed her own part in the story to ensure his survival.

Of course, that type of instinctively selfless behaviour was part of the reason he'd decided she was a genuinely good person. But having that kindness extended to him - that was new. He didn't quite know what to make of it. People weren't kind to him, as a rule. That was familiar, at least, predictable. It didn't feel like he'd done anything to earn this special treatment. He'd have to tread carefully.

"It's what I'm used to," he said quietly. "Death comes to all things. We do not expect others to delay it for us. But you... are extraordinary." It didn't really feel adequate, but he would need some time to process this new information, and the moment would be long past by then. "Thank you," he added. That also felt shallow. He had no reference to draw from - what was the appropriate way to convey this tangle of feelings? Indebtedness, surprise, gratitude, admiration, and those were just the aspects he had names for. He purposely held her gaze for a moment, hoping she would be able to glean something from that since his words weren't doing the job.

Blaise opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. Instead, she stood and stretched. "I bet you haven't even eaten today. Come on, Charsi made these beautiful rabbit pies. You have to try them." She extended her hand toward him. He didn't especially want to join a communal meal, but it would be rude to refuse such a rare offer. And he had, in fact, neglected to eat. He took her hand to pull himself up. Tomorrow he would attempt to train with Kashya, but right now he wouldn't worry about it.

[frustratedpoetwrites]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter Characters: James Potter, Lily Evans Potter Additional Tags: Morning After, Goodbyes, Sharing a Shower, reluctant goodbyes Series: Part 2 of The Marauders Pub Soho Summary:

The morning after a night of passion Lily has to leave a soundly sleeping James, but she doesn't want to.

Lily lay staring at the skylight, and watched the patch of sky turn from black to indigo. She just gazed without moving, hardly even blinking as it gradually grew lighter and lighter. She had not been able to find any rest for more than a few brief snatches, as tired as she was. Her whole body zinged with electricity, her brain abuzz with everything that had happened last night and had continued to happen throughout the night. She glanced over towards the body sleeping soundly beside her, the sheets pooled around his waist showing his toned back. He had acquired some new tattoos in the six years since she had last seen him. When she’d remarked on the delicately detailed Lily that was now inked on his right side sweeping across his ribs, he had quipped back that it marked the spot where she had stuck her knife in him when she’d left him to pursue her career. That remark had stung more than she wanted to admit, even though she did deserve it. 

She had told him last night she never wanted to leave his side again, and she had meant it. Especially at that moment, standing in the bar he basically built, surrounded by the memories of their childhood. Engulfed by the overwhelming scent of James himself. At that moment it had been so easy to say yes to all of his questions, say yes to coming here to his place instead of going back to her hotel as she had planned. She wished she could stay in this moment, with the old day finished and the new not yet begun. In this bed with this man forever. But all too soon she would have to leave. She needed to get on a plane in a few hours. If she didn’t, then any dream she had to live in London permanently would be gone.

She glanced around James's attic room trying to see if he even had a clock. She was amazed that he still lived like this. There was a rail for his clothes and a bed so low it was almost like the mattress was on the floor. That was it. She hoped he didn’t live like this all the time, but she suspected his life and energy was spent at the bar.

It had looked so beautiful, the large dark polished oak panels and the brass rail, the small stage with the piano sitting proudly. And all the pictures on the walls of their schooldays. It had always been his dream to run a bar, and the four Marauders had made it a successful reality, but she knew who had been driving it from day one, and she was  incredibly proud of him for that.

She reached for her clutch bag and fumbled in it for her phone. It did not light up when she tapped the screen. Her battery must have died. 

Fuck.

She glanced over at James, still sleeping soundly, and contemplated waking him, but she knew he was exhausted. She had wiped him out, she thought to herself, suppressing a giggle, it had been a wonderful night. He had not forgotten any of the things he used to do to make her whole body hum, and he had learned a few new things too she had discovered. His strength and stamina had greatly increased. Not that she had expected him to hold himself chaste for her, but she still had a pang of jealousy at the thought that other women had touched him, had been with her James. Had they asked about his tattoo? She always thought of him as hers, even though she hadn’t exactly expected to ever come back to him that day she had left. Any time before now when she had considered it she talked herself out of it because she was convinced he would be with someone else.

She rolled over onto her back again, and looked up at the skylight. 

What time was it?

She’d hoped she wouldn't have to do this but she slid off the edge of the bed and took James’s phone out of the pocket of his jeans and opened it, shaking her head at the stubborn distrust for technology that meant he still used an old flip phone. Although at the moment Lily was grateful because she didn’t have to worry about unlocking it.

She tapped in the digits for her assistant's number as she crept into his ensuite, slipping on the dressing gown that was on a hook behind the door.

The phone rang just once before she heard an unsure “Hello?”

“Hey, Jess it’s me…”

“Lily!” came the scream, causing her to jump and nearly drop the phone. “Where the fucking hell have you been? I’ve been calling you all night. Your meeting has been moved up, you need to get to the airport right now!”

“What? Oh, fuck!” Lily took a breath and closed her eyes as her assistant kept rambling over the phone, talking so fast Lily could hardly understand them. “Jess, Jess, Jessie!” She tried to speak urgently and sharply without making too much noise. “I need you to bring me my bag and my suit, the green one. Put an extra pair of underwear in my bag.”

“I’m sorry, Lily, but your overnight bag won’t be enough, I've had to pack your suitcase, you’ll be staying for a week. They’ve sent a whole itinerary, but when we left Hong Kong I didn’t think to pack any of your formal wear. I’ve arranged for the concierge to book a fitting for after your first meeting, once you’ve checked in. Where are you anyway? I need to let Terrence know where we need to come and get you.” 

Lily went to answer then realised she had no actual idea of the address. It wasn’t far from the bar, she didn’t think. But she had been interested in other things besides looking out the car window to notice what neighbourhood they were in. Lily looked up as the door to the bathroom swung open gently, revealing a conscious James leaning against the frame wearing only his battered looking jeans, his tousled hair framing his tired-looking face and his glasses perching on the end of his nose, as if they were mere moments from falling off.

She let the phone fall from her ear slightly as he continued to stare at her, a wry smile reaching only the edge of his lips. 

“Something tells me you aren’t staying for breakfast.” His tone was light but she heard the resignation behind it. As she looked over at her childhood sweetheart, an idea struck her.

“Jess? You still there? Pick me up outside the Marauders’ Pub in Soho. Yeah? And Jess? I'm gonna need another plane ticket.”

“Well, okay boss but they are sending you a priv…..” Lily did not hear the last of her assistant’s words as she closed the flip phone and tossed it back to him.

“I can't believe you still use that antique.” He caught it deftly in his left hand and dropped it into his back pocket.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you dick around with my life again,” he replied, barely even trying to mask the disappointment.

“As much as I'd love to have this argument again, I really need you to pack yourself a bag. Do you have a good suit that fits you?”

He shook his head and blinked at her as she brushed past him to his rail of clothes and started looking through them. He still had some nice attire here, a lot of it she remembered from their life before.

“Lily, wait,” he called after her but she took no notice. She had no time. Already, in her head, she was mapping out what she needed to do. A whole week with these people. The one day originally planned would have been torture, but this... If she had back up maybe she could make it work.  “Stop.” He placed a hand on hers as it rested on the next coathanger. She looked up into his gorgeous eyes as they shone with all the colours as his emotions played out across his face. He was always so expressive. “What are you doing?”

“I want you to come with me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not? You’re your own boss, you could take the time off. It’s not like you’re the only one in charge. What about Sirius? Or Remus? Or even Pete?” She paused, “Is Pete doing okay? I thought he wanted to go in a, erm, different direction but I saw his name up there with the rest of you?”

He sighed and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “Pete is a silent partner, he helps out when he can but his wife made him join their family business, he helps by keeping them away.” His hand dropped to his side. “Lily I can’t afford to just drop everything, everybody else has other responsibilities, I’m the only one left to run it and I won't let it fail. My staff depends on me.”

“James, this is me telling you I don’t want to leave you again. I don’t want to go on this trip without you by my side, I could use someone in my corner. I could also use a devilishly handsome, charming, charismatic–” he raised an eyebrow at her seductive tone but didn’t stop her putting her hands on his chest, tracing the antlers that spread across them. 

 “My tattoos aren’t very corporate,” he murmured, his voice sounding deep and throaty. she shrugged in reply,

“You’d be surprised what people hide under their suits these days.” She told him with a twinkle, sobering when his lips thinned. “Please James. I need you.” She hadn’t realised how true those words were until she had spoken them to the universe.

“I’m sorry Lily, but my staff need me more. They rely on me.”

“So you’ve never taken a day off? Never had to call in sick?” Before he could answer her questions an idea struck her. “What if I pay your staff for the week? How much would that be?” He stood for a moment apparently stunned then started laughing and stepped away from her, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She tried not to look upset at his reaction to her suggestion. She stood watching him and waited for his mirth to subside.

“Oh, you are actually serious? You want to pay me so I will spend time with you?” He shook his head as his mirth still rippled through him. “This isn’t Pretty Woman and I’m not some, some...rentboy you picked up off the street.” 

Now he sounded angry. James’ phone started buzzing in his back pocket. She had not thought that offering to pay his staff would equate  to her hiring him as an escort service. Her brain hadn’t gone that way at all. She let him answer his call, as she rushed back to the bathroom for a much needed shower and tried to clear her head.

James may have skimped on bedroom furniture but he hadn’t skimped on his wet room. The shower was a walk-in style and big enough for four people, the naturally textured tiles on her feet were warm as she walked in, the large slabs of highly polished sand-coloured stone on the walls were so neatly fitted she couldn’t even see the joins. 

Turning on the shower filled the room with hot steam and the reassuring splats of water droplets peppering the tiles. Stepping into it, she gasped at the pressure. It was like standing in a tropical rainstorm. She just stood there unmoving, letting the water rush over her enjoying the sensation as it beat down on her head.

“That was your PA on the phone. I gave them this address so you can leave from here.” James said as he stepped into the bathroom like they did this kind of thing all the time. “Thought you might want to have some fresh clothes to wear.”

“You really won’t come?” She asked, trying one last time. She forced herself to keep her eyes forward when she realised he was joining her by the sound of his jeans hitting the tiled floor. 

Despite their recent intimacy, or perhaps because of it, being this close to his naked body turned her core white-hot. She tried very hard not to react as she felt his naked skin brush up against hers.  His arm reached past and grabbed an unlabelled metal bottle from the small alcove. Then his fingers were in her hair and her nostrils were filled with the scent of an English summer garden.

“Is it okay that I join you in here? Thought it would save some time.”

“Yes, okay, it’s absolutely fine,” she tried to keep her voice as neutral as his but even she could hear the breathiness.  

“I told your assistant I can’t, it’s not my scene at all,” he told her conversationally, as if he wasn’t standing butt naked behind her in the shower. He was trying to calm her down, trying to talk about what needed to be talked about. The fact they were taking a shower together didn’t seem to phase him at all. Determinedly, she tried to follow his lead.

“This is not me running away from you. I need you to understand that.” She hummed in pleasure as his fingers massaged deeper into her hair. “I’m sorry if I offended you, offering to pay.” 

 “I’m still not sure if I find it more funny or offensive,” he began. “I can’t say I’m not tempted to run away with you, but you know as well as I do how much of a distraction I would be. You need to be at your best. I will be fine, I’ll just have to trust you’ll come back. That you're not making me the poor jilted lover once more.” He told her. She wanted to tell him he didn’t need to worry, wanted to say all the things that she had agonised about saying as she lay awake beside him in his bed, but no words could adequately explain how she was feeling. So she turned and reached for him, pushing her fingers up across his stubble studded cheeks into his hair and kissing him soundly. Breaking the kiss he tilted her head back as his lips dragged kisses across her throat. She didn’t need to ask where his mind was right now, she could feel his arousal pressing against her stomach. All too soon her brain caught up with her and soundly put on the brakes. “Not that I don’t enjoy where this is going, but we need to stop.” She took a few quick breaths as his hands continued to soap her breasts. “I don’t have the time and I’m a little tender.”

“You were the one who started things, Evans. I was just helping you wash,” he said innocently, amusement dancing in his eyes. But he did take his hands off her body and even though she had asked him to, she mourned the loss of contact. “In all honesty, I don’t think I have it in me right now to perform at my best anyway.” 

“Let’s just put this on pause for now then shall we?” She told him, giving him a gentle kiss, hoping he understood how much he continued to mean to her. Lily dipped her head to rinse the bubbles out of her hair. It felt like silk as she combed her fingers through it.

“What is that shampoo? It’s amazing!”

“It’s a prototype. Remus’ company makes it, the only thing that’s come close to making my hair behave. He’s made it his personal mission to tame it. He gives me a new formula just about every week.” He pointed to the small bathroom cabinet above the sink. “The conditioner’s in there, it's one you have to leave in. I put towels on the hook.” She stepped aside once she was rinsed, letting him have the full force of the shower. 

“Does he always make it smell like flowers?”

“Yup.” She expected him to elaborate but when he didn’t she just let it go and stepped out of the shower. She found the small spray bottle in the cabinet simply labelled conditioner and scrunched some into her hair as she watched James wash his. The bubbles slid down his frame in ways that made her wish she could just step back in there with him.

Lily wished she could continue to stare at him but her logical brain was kicking in to tell her all that she still had to do. Moving back to the bedroom, she twisted her hair up out of the way while she looked for anywhere he would store things. There wasn’t even a cupboard in the bedroom so she padded her way through to the living space. She barely remembered it from the night before, and she was stunned at how minimally he lived.

It was a beautiful apartment, the exposed red brick looked amazing with the warm honey-coloured wooden floor. The living space was a good size for London, the kitchen looked brand new with a wooden worktop that matched the floor and clean white cupboards. She spotted the coffee machine, and hunted in the cupboards to see if he had any beans, suppressing her irritation when every one was empty. 

The more she looked around his place, the less it felt like he lived here at all. There was a giant modular brown leather sofa taking up the majority of space in the living area, a coffee table that looked like it was made out of granite, and a giant tv on the wall. 

“What is this place to you James Potter?” She mused as she looked around. She was tempted to start rummaging in drawers (if there were any) but it felt like possibly a step too far for now. 

The intercom buzzed impatiently making her jump guiltily and nearly drop her towel. As she stared at the white box on the wall and wondered how to operate it James came striding out of the bedroom holding a hand towel around his waist, hair still dripping. He lifted the receiver then buzzed to let the person come up. “It’s your assistant.” He explained before vanishing back to the bedroom.

Lily stood looking through the peephole until she saw her assistant's blonde head appear from the stairs.

She opened the door and ushered them in quickly. Taking the bag from them awkwardly with one hand.

Jessie looked around and hummed appreciatively. “This is nice, you could do a lot with this place. When are they moving in?”

“I don’t know,” Lily replied quietly. “I’m going to go change. Can you play nice with James, please? It would be great if you two get on.”

“Well I’ll behave if he will,” Jessie swept an invisible strand of hair out their face before relenting to Lily’s reproachful look. “Alright, alright. When we spoke on the phone they were pleasant so I can be too.” 

“Great, I’ll be super quick,” as she made her way back into the bedroom James stepped out wearing that same pair of jeans he seemed incredibly fond of and one of his many black Marauders Pub t-shirts. He put out a hand to stop her as she tried to slip past him.

“I’m going to get out of your hair,” he said quietly. She could tell by the tone he didn’t want to be here when she left, didn’t want to be the one left waving by the door. She understood that in an instant, saw it in his sad eyes, and the hesitant touch he placed on her arm. 

“Okay.” With a glance at her assistant she walked him back into the bedroom. “This was not how I wanted this to go,” she said, keeping her voice down once she knew they were alone.

“Saying goodbye brings back bad memories,” he told her shuffling his feet and running a hand through his hair. “I want to believe you're coming back this time.”

“Of course I’m coming back. I’ll call you, every day. But could you do something for me?” She asked, reaching to snake her arms around his neck.

“Can you get yourself a new phone so we can video chat?”

“Yes, Evans I think I can manage that,” he told her, leaning down to kiss her goodbye for the last time. 

[samwrights]

Aoba Johsai 3rd Years as dads [hc]

Lmao, as if I was gonna stop at Karasuno. I’m a Seijoh hoe through and through 😂😂😂 this ones a little off the rails but it’s my blog and I write what I want. I’ll get to the rest of Seijoh later, maybe, but these turned out way longer than I anticipated.

Slight TW; mentions of miscarriage.

Iwaizumi;

I love this supportive man so much 🥺

I don’t even want kids and I’d let him turn me into a baby factory, idgaf.

Ahem, n e ways.

Low key, he would be freaking out over your guys’ first kid. Didn’t matter that you were in live-in S/O’s, or that you’d been together for y e a r s.

Homie wanted to marry you first, finally get you guys out of your shoddy apartment, maybe spend a few years traveling the world.

He wanted to live the life of a dink, at least for a little while before eventually starting a family with you. Apparently someone’s pullout game weak af.

Despite not being prepared for parenthood, your pregnancy actually goes pretty swimmingly. Iwa would def be the man to come with to all doctors appointments, parenting classes, and would literally call his mom every three seconds freaking out because he has no idea what color to paint the nursery.

“Mom, I can’t just paint it whatever, what if the baby doesn’t like it?” Don’t ask me why, I just know it would be a fact.

Throughout your relationship as teenagers, Iwa was always your hype-man cause he loves flaunting his woman at whatever she chooses to succeed at. Which made Oikawa hella jealous but irrelevant. Now that you guys were going to be a family, it was like falling in love with you all over again and he literally hyped you up everyday with how great of a mom you were going to be.

Endless comments on how beautiful you looked while pregnant, regarding your glow or how he gets so overwhelmed with love knowing that you are having his child. Fucking simp.

If you feel he’s laying it on too thick, you tell him it’s actually Mattsun’s and Iwa is just a cover so you can run off with him and Makki. 0/10, does not appreciate.

The closer you get to your due date, however, all jokes are completely off, and Hajime is in full on protective husband/dad mode. Did I mention y’all still ain’t married or

He does literally everything for you just to make sure you aren’t in too much pain or discomfort. Mfer won’t even let you pick up a laundry basket 💀

“Honey, I’m fine! Please, I can’t sit on the couch all day, there’s going to be a permanent imprint from my ass on it.”

“Baby, why is the couch wet?”

“Huh. Guess my water broke.”

Annnnnnd cue Hajime screaming his head off while proceeding to grab your hospital bag packed with clothes, a spare aux cable, and your toiletries, before rushing out to the car, starting it, and driving to the hospital.

Without you.

With that being his only major faux pas, Iwaizumi welcomes fatherhood with open arms. Sure, y’all didn’t have your house yet and a wedding was going to be difficult to plan (though if you’re down for the courthouse, he was in), and he didn’t have enough saved to buy you a ring that screamed “Mrs. Iwaizumi” to him.

But in the mean time, he could not get enough of his girls. Even little things like feeding your daughter or watching tv with her in his arms with you snuggling up to his side made him the absolute softest boy.

It may not have been his ideal situation in the past, but now all he looked forward to was watching your family continue to grow with a few more hopeful additions.

Oikawa;

Well this is awkward. You and Tooru I mean Oikawa broke up a few months ago. Not that it was a particularly bad break up; definitely more on the mutual side.

You wanted to continue pursuing your dreams and he wanted to carry on being a Pro. (Personally, I picture Oikawa being with a musician of some sort that posts covers of YouTube).

So even though you guys aren’t together anymore, you still keep up with how he’s doing in the pro VB world and he low key still watches your covers on the internet.

Your posting becomes less and less frequent, he notices over the span of a few months until you stop uploading all together. He thinks nothing of it until he gets a notification that you’ve finally uploaded a video. Two. Years. Later.

“Where we’ve been.” He doesn’t miss the collective pronoun before clicking on the video, seeing you standing with your guitarist, the former Nekoma VBC captain, Tetsurou Kuroo, as well as a cute, pudgy baby.

A baby that looked nothing like Kuroo and a whole lot like Oikawa did when he was a baby.

The video talks about your hiatus, as well as how you and your now boyfriend/guitarist were enjoying your life as parents and making music was hard with your little boy, and that the two of you needed to prioritize your son first. you introduce your baby, but the first thing Oikawa discovers is that the age of your baby and the duration of yours and Kuroo’s relationship didn’t add up. Don’t ask me why Oikawa knows how long you’ve been together, he has his resources.

Considering the toddler was two, and you and Kuroo had been together for a year. And the baby didn’t look anything like you OR him

Oikawa is flipping out now, and tries everything in his power to get a hold of you. Which oddly enough, wasn’t that hard considering your number is still the same.

“Did you finally figure it out?” Was all you said to him. He’s so upset that you didn’t tell him—that could have been him. Standing with you. Holding his baby—not bed headed fuck holding HIS son.

After FTing him, you, Oikawa, and Kuroo agreed to set up a meeting with all of you so Oikawa could finally meet his flesh and blood. He’s excited, but man oh man is he salty.

He missed his son’s first steps, first meal, holding him, teaching him how to walk, his first words; he missed ALL of it.

But the bitterness he feels completely goes away when he sees baby Oik’s in person for the first time. He had never, in his entire twenty three years of living, been in love until now. Despite your hesitation, you allow Tooru to hold his child for the entirety of your little meeting, allowing him to make up for lost years.

The three of you agreed on a form of joint custody that allowed Oikawa to have his son while you toured or were busy working, and you would have him while he was out doing his thing.

TL;DR, Oikawa takes the opportunity to make up his lost years spoiling the fuck out of his baby when he can and, oddly enough, the arrangement works out to benefit the both of you.

Ngl, parenthood is hard for him. Not because he doesn’t know how to parent, but rather because he never pictured his first child to come about this way. He would never admit it to anybody, not even Iwa, that knowing he had a child that he was barely a father to left him feeling lonely. That loneliness, however, motivates him to truly be the best dad that can be so that maybe when his son his old enough, he would rather live with him instead of his mom

Ofc, he teaches his offspring how to play volleyball as soon as he’s old enough to learn. But outside of that, Oikawa’s favorite thing to do with his son is little quiet nature walks away from the bustling city to have quality time with him.

Hanamaki;

This chill mfer 💀💀💀 for some reason, I feel like his love language is touch.

Your relationship with him was so simple, even after moving in together in your second year of college, years ago.

Well, it was simple.

As simple as life could be with four demons overrunning your house.

Due to the number of children the two of you had, with all of them being no more than two years apart in age, you became a stay-at-home mom, leaving Makki to provide for the six of you.

Because of your hellions wreaking havoc on you all day, Takahiro always wound down from work with the kids by putting on a movie and even reciting the script in his own voice to keep them entertained. Allowing you to go wind down with a glass of wine while you took a bubble bath.

Your oldest was Makki’s right hand man at the ripe age of 7. He always made sure that, as the big brother, he was looking out for his siblings and being the man of the house to help mommy while he worked.

Makki never raises his voice at the kids. Ever. Period.

If he’s upset with them or they did something they weren’t supposed to, he resolves the issue by picking them up, sitting down on the couch with them in his lap and staring at them. “Why did you draw on the walls with crayon, little man?” He would ask the offending five year old boy in the most calm voice.

“I wanted to paint a pretty picture for you and mommy!”

“And we love it. But next time, dude, if you put it on paper, I can bring those pictures to work so I can show everyone else.” Yeah, he calls his sons dude.

If his youngest and only daughter began crying over anything—Makki was on it like flies on shit. Little princess is not allowed to cry in daddy’s presence. He’s always quick to figure out why she’s crying too and, he learned, it’s mostly just because she wanted attention.

“When did you get so good at this?” You’d tease him.

“We’ve had lots of practice, honey.” 💀💀💀

A lot of the time, he felt really bad because he felt that he just kinda left you with the kids while he worked, and he’d be a little insecure. He thinks you’re tired of him and that you want to leave sometimes.

He thinks you don’t notice when he’s upset but he kinda dumb dumb cause you’ve been together for almost half of your lives, ofc you know when he’s upset.

While he’s laying in bed, nonchalantly scrolling through his phone before falling asleep for the night, you sit at his bedside, giving him the look. “C’mon, Takahiro. I can tell when something’s bothering you.” His lips would purse a little bit before locking his phone and putting it on his night stand, then holding whatever hand of yours that was closest to him with both of his.

“Ya ever just...get tired of our life?” Aksfnrjfl WOW THAT CAME OUT WRONG. This is why he prefers touch, he’s shit with words. “Wait no, that’s not what I meant. D-do, uh...a-are you happy?” Wow he really shit with words. Even if this would be conversation y’all would have at least once a year.

But no matter how many times you told him you loved him, he needed to feel it. Why do you think you ended up pregnant nearly every year? “I’m getting my fucking tubes tied after this, Makki.”

Matsukawa;

This goof would be your partner in crime second to Makki of course.

Half the time people kinda forgot you were dating let alone married because the two of you had always been playful and full of laughter; the only change was PDA was sprinkled in.

Sitting in his lap, little pecks during conversations, burying yourself in his neck or him burying himself in your hair, a hand always on your back or your shoulder.

Homies super subtle touchy.

The biggest reminder was when you’d announced your pregnancy to your friends. While Makki was super excited to be an uncle, Oikawa and Iwa were kinda like “y’all actually have sex??” Like you weren’t fucking married??

But whatever, y’all goofy and in love or w/e and it almost seems that the two of you aren’t taking pregnancy seriously. You totally are, but your friends don’t think so.

Coming up with baby names was Issei’s favorite pastime. But he went super left field with a lot of them, so you unfortunately had to veto them.

Painting and preparing the nursery was also an absolute blast. Because you both wanted the gender to be a surprise, y’all painted the room white on top with a full rainbow on the bottom, complete with gender neutral wall decals.

Honestly, he was so so so excited to be a dad. But mostly, he was just so smitten with you. It wasn’t hard for him to, considering the two of you were best friends long before dating.

He definitely turned your ultrasound pictures into memes that he hung in the babies room. “The last time I got pussy” captioned under the first ultrasound was his favorite.

You woke up one day in excruciating amounts of pain—like someone was carving out the muscles in your stomach and separating them from the skin from the inside and you knew something was wrong. “Issei, we gotta go to the hospital now!”

“N-now?” All jokes are gone, all laughter void and absent. “Honey, you’re only at the end of the first trime—“

“I know, idiot! We gotta go now!” You’re sobbing while hunching over your stomach, trying to walk but not succeeding in getting very far. Instead, your husband opts to carry you out to the car before zipping on over.

The sudden appointment had taken hours and the both of you felt drained. Well, you actually were. All of the pain you had experienced earlier in the day did not compare to the devastating blow of hearing that you had a miscarriage.

Silence fills every space that the two of you were in but, knowing you as well as he did, Mattsun refused to leave your side. Even if you had to pee.

“Babe, I have to pee.”

“Cool, which bathroom do we wanna use?” He wasn’t making jokes for the sake of being funny, which was the reason you allowed him to sit on the edge of the tub while you handled your business, holding your fingers in loose threads. It’s weird, but this was not a time for either of you to be alone to indulge your demons.

“We’re gonna get through this.” His arms would wrap around you from behind, carefully folding over your once filled womb, with his head resting on top of your own. “Just you and me, babe, against the world.”

“And Makki.”

“And Makki.”

[littlx-songbxrd]

okok here it is, i don't have a working title yet lol and i wrote the first like three paragraphs a year ago and only now finished it

but uh here it is ig (it's long so below the cut)

oh and i named the characters before i read chog believe it or not so there is no correlation lol

Prologue - Cordelia

May brings with it the memory of battles fought and won and the ever looming presence of a war not quite lost but certainly nowhere near done. As I hand out threadbare blankets around the flickering fires of the temporary war camp, I have to force my mind not to stray to all the people who should be here but are not. Well, the one person, really. I don’t allow myself to dwell, for I know that if I let my heart open to loss, there will be no hope at closing the hole left behind. No one here will tolerate that.

Yet no one criticizes Halen when she fumbles and breaks her fragile composure, storming out of the planning tent, the memories glistening in her eyes threatening to spill over. No, when it’s her, they rush to comfort her, to appease her, and they tell her to take all the time she needs. After all, has the poor girl not been through enough? they whisper pityingly as though we all haven’t lost others to this fight. But, of course, it’s not my place to comment on the actions of the mighty Chosen One. Even if she is my friend.

I look down to find my hands are empty. Tir has taken the last blanket from me without my noticing, and he’s settling down against his pack with his bare feet at the fire. I scowl; he isn’t allowed to speak against Halen either, despite being her older brother.

Heaving a sign, I slump down next to my friend and pull a corner of the blanket over myself. Tir shifts slightly so I can lean against his shoulder. We don’t speak. There are no words big enough to dispel the cloud of grief that hangs over us.

I know Tir is thinking of Zo today, just like he knows I’m thinking of Cherry.

Both of us, I’m sure, are also thinking that Halen ought to be here. She ought to be spilling those tears she always threatens and apologizing meaninglessly for deaths that aren’t her fault. Since when did she choose to be distant and calm? Couldn’t she at least have the decency to break down with the rest of us?

I scowl at a gecko as it skitters through the dirt toward the treeline to the west. I should say something to Halen. I should scream at her, sob at her, cry out until she understands that we need her as a friend, not just a commander.

My mind made up, I stand quickly, earning a confused stare from Tir. “Where are you off to?” he asks, his voice thick.

I shake my head. “Somewhere that isn’t here.”

He chuckles and reaches up to squeeze my hand. It’s enough. He was never one for many words.

I smile sadly down at him and set off to the eastern shore, where the purple and gold tents of the Eneris royal tents have been set up. Their fire and sun emblem shines bright on the tent flaps behind guards dressed in layers upon layers of robes and wraps and blankets. I scoff. The army settled just twenty yards away is shivering under thin blankets and dying fires while the royals and their company dine on mutton and venison. Not that I’ve come to expect anything else from them. They recruited Halen and built this army from the ground up—of course they believe themselves worthy of a few more precious coins exchanged for better conditions.

Even today, the first anniversary of Monvira’s troops storming villages and uprooting lives, they haven’t so much as acknowledged the flood of pain that’s sweeping through their army. I wonder if they even know what May first means to their people.

I stop mid-stride, staring straight ahead at the Strategy tent, where I know Halen spends most of her time these days.

It hits me: May first. The sky is clouded and the birds are silent, but it’s May first and no one bothered telling me that I forgot my birthday. Which was April thirtieth. No one noticed.

Weariness pushes at the back of my eyes, and I blink heavily against the tears blurring my vision. Memories from last year flood my mind as I turn and hurry towards Halen’s private tent. It bares the same colors and seal as the others.

I collapse on her bedroll and let out a single sob.

Last year, on the night of my birthday, Cherry had wrapped a blanket around us both as we stumbled back to our village after a whole day spent together at Renton Lake. She’d kissed my hand and twirled me toward the hut I shared with Halen, giggling in the moonlight, her dark unbound hair spilling over her shoulder like a waterfall of night. The memory rips through me, forcing another sob out of my quaking body.

The next morning, she’d been gone.

I’m not sure how long I lay there, my tears collecting in a pool around my head, but eventually the shaking subsides and leaves behind a solemn heaviness. Only when I hear the tent flap ruffle do I stir. There’s a small gasp, then: “Delia?”

Halen’s nickname for me only makes the smallest dent in my sorrow. I push myself to a sitting position, sure that my face is red and splotchy and my hair wild and tangled. All in all, I don’t blame her for looking taken aback. “Delia, what is it?” she gushes, crouching before me and taking my face in her hands. “What’s wrong? What can I do?”

This is exactly what I wanted when I stormed in here. Now, I nearly laugh. It’s pathetic, really, all this time I’ve spent cleaning up after Halen, chasing her, thinking maybe she could do something that would fill the cavity growing inside me. I see it now, as her hazel eyes rake my face. “Nothing,” I tell her. Her thumbs are soft as they wipe away the tears that trickle down my cheeks. “Not anymore.” My voice is scratchy, and I push down against a wave of shame. I’m better than this. I’m better than breaking down in my friend’s plush tent. I’ve never been the emotional one—that was always Halen.

I wipe away my tears, feel myself stand and walk out of the tent, my mind still occupied with hazy revelations I’m too exhausted to fully pursue. There’s a feeling in my gut, the only one that matters right now, and it’s an overwhelming cry to get out.

The grass is silent under my feet as I walk, and I’m distantly aware of Halen calling after me. Her cries of “Wait!” and “What’s going on, Cordelia?” follow me, even after she stops.

I keep walking.

I don’t look back.

---

so uh yeah that's it 👉👈 i can give u the idea of the book if u want or you can just take this offering and run lol <33

Im gonna give you my unfiltered thoughts with no order or organization

REMEMBER ME WHEN YOURE RICH AND FAMOUS AND A NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR

OMG IM GONNA GET TO BRAG I SAW THE PROLOGUE TO AN AWARD WINNING BOOK IN THE FUTURE HOLY SHIT

I DONT HAVE ENOUGH WORDS TO EXPLAIN HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS AND IM BILINGUAL

RENDERED ME SPEECHLESS IN TWO LANGUAGES GO YOU

SHE DIDNT EVEN REMEMBER HER BIRTHDAY HOLY SHIT

LOOK I ADORE THE FEELINGA CORDELIA POTRAYED DURING THE ENTIRE PROLOGUE

LIKE HOW YOU WROTE IT IS JUST

I WANTED HER TO COME BREAKDOWN WITH THE REST OF US?????

NO IM SORRY IM HORRIBLE AT COMPLIMENTING EVERYTHING HERE IS BRILLIANT

1) i have a basis for how the crown is unfair (based on cordelias description) ALSO HOW CORDELIA DESCRIBED "i wasnt even sure if they knew what may 1 meant to their people" IDK BUT I LOVED HOW OT WAS WRITTEN. Its not explicit BUT LEAVES THE MESSAGE SAID

2) basis to whats going on? C H E C K

3) JUST HOW YOU WROTE CORDELIAS GRIEVE AND ESTABLISHED THE CHARACTER

Artie i've told you a million times but I adore your writting style, i always adored it BIT READING YOUR ORIGINAL WORK

I FEEL SO PROUD OF YOU?????

Your style is perfect

I WASNT LOST WHICH IS GOOD!

AND LEAVES ME WANTING FOR MORE

I DIDNT NOTICE BUT MY PHONE HAS LOW BATTERY SO IF I DONT REPLY AFTER THIS ITS THAT BUT TELL ME MORE PLS

[martellthemandalor]

Fight or Flight - Part 2

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x F!Reader

Warnings: langauge, guns, blood, violence, alcohol, angst

Rating: T (teen)

Word Count: 4.2K+

A/N: Part 2!! Here we are after two weeks, which I’m impressed with becuase uni has been kicking my ass lately. Just a PSA that I mildly hate myself for writing this becuase I hate hurting Frankie. Thank you to @mylifeliterally for beta reading this! As always likes are appreciated, reblogs encouraged and comments are adored :)

If you haven’t already, read part 1 here!

Masterlist

GIF credit: @conveniently-available

Staying away from Frankie was working so far, the atmosphere between the two of you softening as your anger faded slowly with the distance. Everyone was happy with this, the boys starting to properly relax again in your presence and your relief at that knew no bounds.

Things were starting to feel like normal again.

Benny’s fight had gone… well you weren’t entirely sure how it had gone, but he was insisting that he had won and that was a good enough cause for celebration in the group.

The old squad had retired to Benny’s favourite haunt, a small Irish themed pub a few streets from the gym. There you were now sat, favourite beverages in hand, talking as if the last god-knows how many years hadn’t passed at all.

Ben had insisted that you weren’t paying for own drinks tonight, overjoyed that your good luck kiss had worked its magic on him. You certainly weren’t complaining, even if you did start to feel a little guilty as the other boys insisted that they pay for a few too.

Fish didn’t say anything to you but you clocked him slip his own contribution into Will’s hand, muttering something to him. Next thing you knew another bottle had been handed to you by the blonde.

A tiny wave of guilt washed over your stomach as you stared at the drink, offering your thanks to Will who simply gave your shoulder a squeeze in return. He knew it wasn’t meant for him.

The feeling quickly washed away though, replaced with that warm fuzz alcohol provided.

While it was true you had planned to lightly flirt with Benny at the start of the evening, you hadn’t expected it to be as enticing as it was to just… keep going. So, you did.

“So Benny, since when I was your good luck charm, hmm?” You queried lightly, nudging him with your elbow.

“You always were Athena, though honestly you’re more of a good looking charm than anything else.” He winked at you. It caused you, Will and Santi to groan in response.

“Come on Ben that was awful, surely you have better lines that from your other good luck charms,” You said.

“Ain’t ever been any other charm but you Ath. You gave us all our luck on missions and it continued into the ring. Wouldn’t want anyone else,” Benny confessed, all the boys nodding their agreement.

The sincerity of his words sent heat flaring to your cheeks. The boys had often joked that you were some kind of blessed, always knowing the best route out of a sticky situation, knowing when shit was about to hit the fan, knowing how to get everyone to safety even if they weren’t with you. You always said it was just paranoia and a lot of experience, but they insisted it was no joking matter how many times it had saved all your skins. All except… once.

“He’s right you know,” A quiet voice caused your head to snap from where you had been staring at your drink. “I know you don’t always believe it, but he’s right. You saved all our asses more times than I can count.”

Frankie. You stared at him, the heat from your cheeks now shifting to blaze a firefight behind your eyes.

“And yet the one time I needed you to save mine, my luck ran out? Is that it?” You snapped.

Frankie shrank under your gaze, refusing to meet your eyes. You watched his hands fidget with his bottle, fingertip skimming the rim. Then, calmly, in a move that you’d never seen before, he placed his hands flat on the table, keeping them still.

“Do you want to do this now?” He asked, his voice low, level, considered. “It’s been killing the guys to find out what happened to us, so do you want to do this now?”

They all were watching you now, four pairs of highly trained eyes bearing into your soul.

“Is that true?” You asked the group. The blaze in you never softening, the bite in your words not held back.

The answering silence told you everything, very clearly.

“You guys want to know what happened, huh? Is your curiosity finally getting the better of you now that we’re both here?” You sniped. It was all of them avoiding your eyes now, heads ducked away from your firing line.

“Hermana, you don’t have to-” Santiago started, cut off abruptly when you threw up a closed fist.

“No, I think it’s time we got it out there. I’m ready to talk. Frankie, honey, do you want to tell them? Or should I?” Fish squared his shoulders somewhat, but still couldn’t look at you. One hand had closed around his bottle again, knuckles white, gripping it so tight it looked as though it could shatter at any moment.

“Fine. Fish left me to die.” You let the words hang. And for a moment, nothing happened. Like the grace period between releasing the trigger on a hand grenade and the moment of devastation. There was silence.

The once light atmosphere instantly thickened as the words hit each of the boys in turn. It felt like smoke had filled the air around your table, swirling around you and choking up the boys before any of them had even thought of a response.

You pushed through.

“It was my last mission, before I was forced out of our company. We were out in the Rainforest, targeting some base camp. Shit went sideways. We all scattered and that was my call. Me and Fish ended up together, you know we always did. I kne- I thought, that he would always have my back.”

It was true. Frankie had always watched your six, more vigilantly than any of the other boys combined. A natural response, you thought, to being hopelessly in love with someone. It had certainly been the case for you. Your usual sharp surveillance turned up to eleven whenever he was near you on a mission.

“But on that day? That day he didn’t. We were being pursued, shots taken on us at every opportunity. I took out three of the guys behind us. Nine shots. Clean kills. No struggle.” You took a breath.

The squad was hyper focused on you, practically unblinking as you conjured the past into their minds. Even Frankie was staring at you now, mouth pressed into a firm line as he forced himself to pay attention.

He owed you that much.

“We’d made it to the hillside, one of our landmarks for tracking the distance back to the rendezvous. Things got real quiet behind us and I thought, stupidly, that we had somehow out maneuvered them. And then the rock-fall happened.” Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment. The memory of the gut wrenching fear so vivid you could practically feel it again, twisting and writhing deep in your belly.

“There were too few and they were too close together to be anything natural. I looked up and there the bastards were. I didn’t even think, just pushed Frankie off the path, down the shallow slope into the undergrowth. I just, wasn’t fast enough for myself I guess.”

You pulled up the left side of your shirt, showing the very obvious bullet wound scar that resided under your ribs. Benny’s mouth fell open, his hand moving towards you, only to swiftly clench into a fist on his thigh.

“I fell. Fell back off the ledge and into the undergrowth with him. Initially it was scrambled calls for med-evac and checking me over and telling me to keep pressure on it. My hearing started to go. Things got distant, but I could make out muffled shouting from above us. Then Fish called into his comm and gave me a look, I had no clue of why he was looking at me that way. Until he left. Left me there, bleeding out on the ground. Dying on the cold, damp earth.”

You cracked then, no longer being able to just play narrator, retelling it from some unfeeling perspective. It was becoming too real, too sharp in your mind as you replayed the event in four-D. You tried to quell the aching urge in your chest to gasp for breath by taking a long swig of your drink.

“I don’t know how long I lay there, in pain and on the verge of giving up, before med-evac showed up and saved me.”

Tears were threatening to roll down your cheeks, your head starting to spin as you battled to keep them at bay.

“Excuse me,” You muttered quietly, flying from the table and into the restroom.

The glass of the mirror was a glacier against your forehead, the smooth edge of the sink below you gliding under your thumbs as you anxiously stroked them across the surface. Your breathing was starting to even out as you used the sensations to ground yourself.

You thought you had been ready to talk about this, especially with the boys. Maybe it was because you had gone about it in a rather hostile way.

That was probably it.

You leant back from the cool glass, watching as your reflection shook her head at you.

“Get yourself together,” You firmly told yourself, “Go out there, apologise and finish the night on a high. Okay?”

The table had gone back to its normally bubbly ambience, the boys talking animatedly amongst themselves.

Your gut did a somersault. They all looked so happy, so carefree, even Frankie was talking happily with them.

You couldn’t stop observing him. The way he smiled and how his shoulders shake slightly when he laughs. His hands were gesticulating wildly when he spoke, the alcohol freeing them from their usual firmly crossed position.

Something flipped in you. The simmering anger that had flowed through your veins at the sight of him evaporated into lingering guilt.

All the tension, everything that had been off about the evening, it had all been your fault.

You took a breath and checked that you still had your phone and wallet in your pocket. You were just going to leave, let the boys have the carefree reunion they deserve.

Shit. Your coat.

Your coat was hanging off the back of the chair that your really didn’t have the stomach to approach right now. You considered making a run for it, just walking past and nabbing it. The problem with that is the boys would instantly notice.

No. Easier to leave it, you can just drop a text to Pope and tell him to drop it at your hotel room later.

You exited the bar quickly, hoping none of the guys saw, and started walking back to your room.

“You left your coat you know.”

Fuck.

Of course Santiago had noticed you slipping away. You stilled, and took a deep breath.

“I- I’m sorry Pope, I just… had to go.”

“You don’t have to apologise, Athena,” Santi spoke softly as he approached you. His arm looped into yours, and as you started walking the two of you fell instantly in step. “It couldn’t have been easy for you to tell us that.”

“No, I do. Not just for unloading that onto you about Frankie, but for being an asshole all evening. I put so much tension-”

“Ath, I promise you that there has been very little tension, things have been great this evening. Anything between you and Fish is between you two alone,” Pope gently squeezed your arm. “Will, Benny and I all knew that things wouldn’t be easy for you two tonight, so I promise you that any ‘tension’ you think you’ve caused was fully anticipated and did not ruin the night.”

The glow of the hotel drew closer with every step and 5 minutes ago the warmth and comfort would’ve been calling to you. Instead, all the warmth and comfort you needed was radiating from your best friend, his words gentle and reassuring in their very nature.

You looked over at him, at the face that had always greeted you on your worse days, and smiled with genuine affection filling your features.

“Thank you, Santiago,” You gave his arm a gentle squeeze, returning the one he had given before. “You always know what to say to me don’t you?”

“I’ve had years of practice, hermana,” He responded kindly.

Pope walked you to the door of your hotel room, even after you insisted that you were more than fine, and left you with a firm hug and a gentle kiss on your cheek. You believed that would be the last you’d see of any of the boys until tomorrow.

Settling in for the night, you were moments away from turning on the TV when a soft rapping at the door was about to prove you wrong.

You padded over to the door and peered through the peephole.

Fuck.

The latch on the door clicked as you opened it for your ex.

“We need to talk.” The words rushed from Frankie’s mouth before you even had chance to take a breath.

Standing for a moment, you studied the man standing patiently in the hallway. His hands were shoved in his pockets, cap pulled low over his face. His stance told you he was nervous, but his eyes betrayed a confidence that you weren’t even sure he realised he had.

“Okay.” 

Standing aside, you held the door open and let him slip past you. You shut the door behind him, leaning against it as the lock engaged.

Fish stood in the centre of the room, smoothing down his shirt before taking off his cap and slowly rotating it in his hands. His eyes were steady on your face, waiting for you to make the first move.

The air between you was thick and heavy. The bed suddenly looked like the most inviting place in the room, so you moved to sit on it, positioning yourself at the headboard. You leant forward and patted the space of mattress at your feet, a quiet signal for Frankie to get comfortable.

There was no hesitation his part, swiftly moving to settle cross-legged at the foot of the mattress. Even now, when you both knew that this was going to bare more of your souls to each other than you ever had before, he was still giving you all the space he could.

“Where do you want to start?” You asked, your voice calm and almost, almost, soft.

“You first. Just, tell me everything, whatever you feel or have felt. Me and you, we were… we were never good at that, we repressed and tried to forget. Especially with this and it broke us. So please, please I want to know, I want to understand.” He was almost pleading with you.

Of everything Frankie had ever asked you, this was the most terrifying of them all.

He was patient. Sitting quietly while you gathered your thoughts, he gave no indication of wanting to rush you. He was right. The two of you had never been good at talking out your feelings. You both tended to bottle them up until they exploded in moments of anger or were thrown into sex.

After a few minutes of quiet searching, you finally formulated a script of your thoughts.

“I loved you with everything, Frankie,” You began, taking a deep breath before continuing. “My entire heart and soul, and do you know where it went? With every passing minute after you abandoned me, every second that I lost more and more hope of you circling back to get me, all my love for you bled out.”

Your hands curled into fists on your thighs, the gentle pinch of your nails digging at your palm grounding you from the rise of unbridled emotion. Frankie kept still, attentively listening to your every word.

“My heart shattered away, piece by piece, with every weakening beat and gushed from my wounds. Its out there, somewhere, Frankie. My love for you is stained blood red onto the jungle floor.” Your voice was starting to crack, the tremors in it impossible to ignore.

Frankie’s mouth fell open a little at that. You could see in his face that he was desperate to say something, but he chose to draw himself back, to keep listening to you.

“I thought getting shot hurt, but it was nothing, nothing, compared to the pain of you leaving me to die alone,” You croaked, your throat constricted with the effort of holding back the rolling tears. Tears which were starting to drip down your face regardless.

“You broke me, Frankie. I can’t date, can’t connect with anyone else. Even if I want to I can’t, because I have this constant fear that they will get up and leave me in the dark,” Your breath hitched as the script changed, a dangerous realisation fighting its way to the front line of your thoughts. “And I can’t date them because none of them are you.”

The reaction in Frankie was instant. Choking on air, his eyes frantically searched your face for any sign of a lie. When he found none, you watched as he forced himself to relax, a shaky breath leaving his lungs.

Your own body slumped against the headboard, the admission winding you completely. All your composure was gone. The puppet string that you forced yourself to follow had been severed. There was no room for acting alright anymore. Not tonight. Not with him.

“My turn.”

Frankie shifted on the bed, looking as though he was going to crawl up to you. Instead, he merely turned a little in order to face you head on.

“You deserve to know the truth. I deserve for you to let me do that. Okay?” He was coaxing you, gently.

Even now, after everything, he was still asking your consent.

Your consent to let him talk. Your consent to let him change your memories. Your consent to finally let yourself feel.

“Okay,” You said quietly, a nod accompanying the small sound.

“When you fell beside me, your clothes slowly darkening before my eyes, my first instinct was to call for Med-Evac. I followed our training, trying to stop the bleeding and giving our location over the comms. But, I… they…” Frankie paused for a second, an unsteady hand dragging down his face.

You leant forward, closing the chasm that lay between you and the man you loved just a fraction.

“I heard them shouting above us. Kill all survivors. It wasn’t good enough that they’d shot you, they wanted us, you, dead. I just knew, that if I stayed there, if I called in Medics, if I showed even one sign that either you or I were still alive down there,” He closed his eyes, squeezing them tight for a moment. His fists were closed too, scrunched up in the sheets that lay beneath the two of you.

You shuffled forward. Just a little.

“Dios. (“God”) They would have killed both of us. In those seconds between hearing them and calling off Med-Evac, my mind ran through every single possibility of how I could get you out there alive. I couldn’t lose you. I couldn’t ever lose you, mi petardo.” (“My firecracker”)

You tried to speak, but Frankie cut you off with a shake of his head.

“I made the only decision that I thought could possibly save you. Let them think you were dead. Leave you and make you seem like a lost cause and maybe, just maybe, you would survive this. It was the hardest decision of my entire life. I tried to tell you what I was doing, but I think shock had set in and you couldn’t hear me at all.”

The tears were escaping down his face now, all attempts at staying stoic failing as the tell-tale droplets fell. Your heart constricted at the sight, the urge to fly to him and wipe them away blooming deep in your chest.

“The look in your eyes broke my heart. You were so afraid and I knew you were about to become infinitely more so. Leaving you there was the worst thing I have ever done, in the whole of my life. If I could ever reverse it, if I could ever switch places. I would do in a heartbeat.”

Frankie’s face was glistening, but he made no attempts to wipe away the continuous stream of tears. It drew your attention to the fact that you too were still crying, unregistered droplets falling down your own cheeks.

Fuck. You wanted to reach for him. To pull him safely into your arms and apologise a million times over for how fucking selfish you had been.

The silence was becoming deafening, echoing in the cavern between you, ricocheting back and forth in a plight to be broken.

Then it was like the gaping space between you vanished. A lifeline was strung across, attached to both your hearts as you both opened your mouths and…

“I’m sorry.”

The words were spoken in complete unison. So much more than just an apology, it was an acknowledgment. Of what, you weren’t quite sure yet.

You tried to speak again, but Frankie spoke over you.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you the truth earlier. I should’ve fought harder to see you when you were so set on not seeing me. Not talking to me. I didn’t want to force myself onto you, into your space. I wanted to give you time to heal. But I- I left it too long. It wasn’t much later that I decided the best thing for both of us was to just let you go.”

Frankie’s silent sobbing was becoming more and more physical, deep, shaking breaths starting to wrack his speech. You found your heart starting to shatter all over again.

Fuck giving each other space.

You practically pounced on him, arms and legs wrapping round him as you buried your head in his shoulder. You told yourself it was because you were trying to hide your own tears. In reality you knew it was because right there is where you felt safest.

It was where you always were safest.

It took a moment for Frankie. It was like his brain stopped working for a few seconds. But once it fully registered that it was you in his lap, his arms circled your body, holding you tight to him.

You felt his face nuzzle into your hair, his tears beginning to dampen the soft strands.

“I was wrong, I was so, so wrong,” Frankie sobbed against you.

“No, shhh, no you weren’t,” You hushed, your hand coming up to smooth over his unruly curls. “I was. I was stubborn and hurting and unwilling to listen to anyone.”

“You were hurting because of me,” He murmured.

“No Frankie, I was hurting because of me. It was my decision to push you first, my decision to not let you see me.”

You pulled back from his neck, moving to rest your forehead against his. Your hands cupped his face, thumbs sweeping over the rosy apples of his cheeks.

“We… we both made mistakes. We both fucked us up. It’s like you said, neither of us were any good at talking out our feelings. This was just the culmination of that,” You breathed it out, the words fanning over his lips that hovered mere inches away.

“I still love you.”

The words were whispered. Barely audible if not for how close you were. A confession so short, yet still held the weight of a thousand bullets.

“I still love you too.”

The parroted words broke down every single one of the walls that you and he had built up over the years. All the heartache, the hating, the yearning, the supressed loving, it all disintegrated in a moment. None of it mattered right now, not now you both knew you had felt it all together.

“Can I kiss you?” Frankie asked. His now words bolder and more assured.

You nodded, momentarily biting you lip before pressing them to the familiar shape of Frankie.

Everything melted away, the room, the world, the past, all with the gentle brush of his lips against your own. It was unhurried, long presses of lips that slowly turned to languid passing of tongues. Relearning what the other felt like, tasted like.

When you finally broke apart, you spent a few minutes in comfortable silence. Your hands glided over each other’s body in the quiet, using feather-light and comforting touch.

“Can we try again?” You spoke the question with firmly shut eyes, afraid that his answer wouldn’t match the one you were longer for.

You felt his hand your chin, gently tilting your head up and encouraging you to open your eyes.

When you did, you found yourself looking into his dark chocolate orbs. The corners of his eyes crinkled just slightly in a way that let you know the smile he wore was genuine.

“Cariño, I want nothing more. But,” Frankie paused, the smiling falling from his face. He pressed his forehead to yours, rocking his head to the side slightly as he did. “We need to be better. Better for each other. We… we need to learn to talk shit out.”

You brought your hands up to move his head, bringing it down to rest in the crook of your neck, cradling it there.

“We will,” You promised. “We’ll be better. We’ll work this out.”

And as you sat there, holding your world in your arms, you knew that you and he finally had the second chance you didn’t know you had been craving.

-

TAGLIST

@din-damn-djarin​

@phoenixhalliwell​

@legili-mens

@jeeperky

@autumnleaves1991-blog

@arabellathorne

[softboywriting]

Haven Port | Chapter Four | Shawn Mendes

Summary: Shawn and his pack have moved to your tiny town of Haven Port. You’ve never met werewolves other than your dad before and you’re infinitely curious. You may be only half werewolf but you and Shawn have a connection that will send you on a wild romantic journey in this small town you call home. [hybrid reader] [werewolf shawn]

Word Count: 2.7k

|Masterlist In Bio|

You and Shawn stay up for hours talking about everything and nothing. You find out he has two brothers who have their own packs. You tell him about your dad and what it was like growing up in Haven Port. Shawn tells you about his parents and how they moved far into the Canadian wilderness when the pack he grew up in disbanded just two years ago. 

Around one in the morning you find yourself slipping into unconsciousness, laying with your head on Shawn's lap. It's easy to drift off when he is talking, voice soft and level as he strokes your hair and ears. You're not sure what he's talking about currently, you've been so out of it for several minutes now.

"Shawn?" 

"Hmm?" 

"Why don't some packs like hybrids?" 

"Genetic impurity." Shawn sighs heavily. "Some people think humans shouldn't be allowed to taint the bloodlines our people fought hard to keep alive. It's stupid really, because if we hadn't cross mated with humans we would all be dead by now. The ones who argue for purity disgust me because even they have human ancestors whether they want to acknowledge it or not."

"We're all mutts in the end." You yawn sleepily. "Such a stupid term." 

"Mutt?" Shawn brushes his thumb over your ear gently. "That's a terrible word. It's a pretty low blow to people who are hybrids like you."

"I've heard it before, I don't take it personally." 

"Someone called you that directly?" 

"In school. It's been a long time, and teenagers are mean."

Shawn hums. "I've only heard other werewolves call hybrids that, not human kids. Interesting."

"It's fine."

"Can I ask you something?" 

"Mmhmm." You close your eyes and he stills his hand in your hair. "Yeah?" 

"While you were distancing yourself, did you feel anything?" 

You peek one eye open and he's looking out across your room. "Feel something? Like what?" 

"Heartache." He looks down and his eyes meet yours. He looks overwhelmingly sad. "Sadness, longing, sleeplessness."

"Yeah, all of those things actually."

He closes his eyes and cradles your head against his stomach. Tears fall on your nose and forehead. 

"Shawn?" You reach up and touch his cheek. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm relieved." He sniffs and wipes his face before taking a deep breath. "I was worried that you didn't feel the pull of a mate. I was scared I was wrong about us, that things were very onesided."

"The heartache and stuff is because we're mates?"

"Yes. When mates get separated without knowing they'll come back to each other, they will feel heartbroken and lethargic." Shawn twists his finger around your hair. "It's a bit extreme, but it's how mates work. We love very passionately."

You turn your face into his stomach. "I haven't been sleeping, and I've been so upset and vulnerable lately. It makes sense now. Did you feel like that? Was it really bad?" 

"I felt like I was going to fall apart. I was moody and angry. I didn't sleep, I went for late night runs instead. I tried to come see you at first but I couldn't find you and so I figured you didn't want to see me, which made things hurt more. I don't want to feel like that again."

"I'm sorry." You whimper, fingers curling into your bedspread. "I caused so much grief."

Shawn strokes you ear and brushes back your hair from your face. "Look at me," he says gently and you look up from where you've turned your face mostly into his stomach. "You didn't know. It wasn't intentional. You thought you were doing the right thing. I understand, and I forgive you."

You nod. 

Shawn leans back and you position yourself so you're laying against his side, head on his shoulder. A few minutes pass and you think of how you felt without him versus how it feels now. There is nothing like feeling comfortable, safe...loved. 

"Do you think the pack will try to get to know me?" You ask softly just as Shawn's breathing slows down as if he were going to sleep. 

"Yes." He mumbles.  

"What if they don't like me?"

"Then they can leave."

You look up and he's got his eyes closed. "But they're your pack. I can't come between you and them."

Shawn slides his hand up the back of your shirt and traces your spine tenderly. "You're my pack too. Everyone was new once. If they choose not to get along with you then they can choose to get along elsewhere. I'd expect the same if I brought in anyone else."

"You want me in the pack?" 

"How could I not? You're my mate, believe it or not, I have no plans to leave your side any time soon." 

You close your eyes and lay your hand over his heart. It beats steadily, and he brings his hand up to lay over it. "Thank you."

"For what?" 

"Coming to Haven Port. I thought I'd be alone with Parker until I died, then you walked into my shop and changed my whole world. So thank you."

He hums softly. "I was supposed to come here. It was meant to be, and I'm glad I did. I didn't expect to meet you but when I did I knew why I chose Haven Port."

"So you're saying it was fate?"

"Mmhmm."

"Well, I'm glad fate came through." 

"Me too." 

_____________________

Two days later and you go to Shawn's place for the second time. You're nervous, hands shaking as Shawn pulls into the driveway. It's reminiscent of the first visit, same time of evening and everything. 

Shawn reaches over and holds his hand out, palm up for you. "I've talked to them. There is no need to be nervous."

"Tell that to my gut. I feel like I'm going to puke."

"Please don't throw up." He threads his fingers between yours and brings your hand to his lips. "They respect me, they know what I expect from them."

"Okay. If...if I'm uncomfortable can I leave?" 

"Yes. Always."

The house is empty when you walk in. There is no one at the door, no one in the main room. There isn't so much as a peep from anyone or anything but the heater in the corner of the living room under the window. It's much less of a greeting than before and you're not sure if it's better or worse. 

"Guys! I'm home!" Shawn announces and walks up behind you, arm wrapping around your waist. "They're here somewhere."

Ryan jogs down the stairs and his steps falter when he sees you. "You brought company?" 

"No, I brought a member of the pack." Shawn says firmly. 

"Right, yeah. I forgot." Ryan looks up where Lindsay and Jo are both standing at the top of the staircase. "Shawn's home."

Jo turns and goes back to where ever she had come from. 

Lindsay walks down slowly until she's a step above Ryan. "Hey, long time no see."

You raise your hand in an awkward wave. "Yeah, I have been...uh...busy."

Shawn looks past the two of them and scowls. "What is Jo doing?" 

"I don't know?" Ryan shrugs and Lindsay shakes her head. 

Shawn releases his hold on you and pushes past the two wolves on the stairs to go find the youngest member of the pack. You're left alone, staring down two people you don't know how to approach. 

Ryan steps down until he's in front of you. "So, what do you do?" 

"I run a tea and coffee shop. I make gift baskets that I sell online." You pull a sample of a chamomile blend from your pocket. You brought some with you to hopefully give as peace offerings. "You can try one?" 

Ryan takes the bag from you and turns it over in his hands. "You made this?"

"Yeah, the flowers are from-" 

"Who cares." Lindsay says as she walks past and into the living room. 

You clench your jaw and look down as you feel yourself flush with anger. 

"Thanks." Ryan says and follows Lindsay, leaving you alone in the entryway. 

Shawn comes down the stairs and looks around for the other two. "Where'd they go?" 

"I don't know." You swallow thickly. "I don't care. I want to leave."

"What? What happened? I was gone for a minute." He holds your shoulders. "What happened?" 

"They don't like me Shawn. They don't even want to try to like me." You flatten your ears back and take a deep breath. "They hate me because I'm a hybrid. You said it yourself that their old pack didn't like hybrids. I'm pretty sure they didn't grow out of an idea that was ingrained in them as children." 

Shawn growls. "Lindsay! Ryan!" 

Both of the wolves appear and you go up the stairs to Shawn's bedroom. You don't want to be around when he lays into them. You don't want to be the center of attention. 

You take a seat in Shawn's room near the door.  No sooner than you get sat down then the door opens. It's Jo. She looks down and then closes the door behind her.  

"I'm sorry." She says softly. "I'm sorry I made fun of your ears and upset you. That was insensitive and rude. I thought because Lindsay and Ryan were talking about them it'd be okay, that it was just a joke, y'know? Looking back on it now I was so mean for no reason. I don't think your ears are weird or stupid. I'm so sorry I was a bitch." 

"O-oh. Thank you for apologizing." 

Jo sits down across from you. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Yeah, but why would you want to tell me?" 

"Because it sort of involves you. The truth is that I was upset when Shawn brought you home." She picks at the rug under her legs, eyes focused on it instead of you. "I thought Shawn and I had a connection. I thought maybe because I'm a few years younger than him that was the reason he didn't want to pursue it. But I was wrong, I was jealous and angry." 

You remember what Ava told you, how she suspected this all along. "Oh, that must have been rough when you found out. I'm sorry."

"No, you don't have to be sorry." She looks up. "I made a mistake, I mistook feelings of brotherly love for the wrong thing. I-I should have gone with Peter probably."

"Peter?" 

"Shawn's brother, one of his brothers. He invited me to go with him, and I liked him too, but I chose Shawn." She scoffs. "Now I have no idea how to find Peter even if I did want to leave."

"Are you unhappy here?" 

"No. Well, sort of. I love Shawn to death and Ava is like a sister to me. It's just that without Shawn, I'm not sure if I'll ever find someone. I held on to the hope that he was the one for so long." Jo wipes her cheeks and you realize she's crying. "I played myself, I should have known. Now it just hurts."

You reach out and tentatively lay your hand on her leg. "You'll find someone, maybe Shawn knows how to get ahold of Peter. Have you asked him?" 

"No. I don't want to ask. I don't want him to think I want to leave."

"But if you're unhappy..."

Jo sighs. "I'll be fine. Besides, Lindsay and Ryan are leaving. They haven't said it to Shawn yet but they are, I overheard them talking a few nights ago." 

Your stomach churns. "Why are they leaving?" 

"They think Shawn isn't a good alpha, that he's too soft and doesn't care about the good of the pack. Which is wrong, he's incredible and he has always taken care of us. They're just angry."

"Because of me."

Jo nods. "I think they have a problem with you. I don't know why, there is nothing wrong with you."

"It's because I'm a hybrid."

"That's stupid. You're Shawn's mate, you're still a wolf even if you're a hybrid." Jo leans back and braces herself on her arms. "I actually think you're very interesting."

"Thank you?" 

"I mean it. I've never met someone who has wolf ears. Do you have a tail too?" 

"No!" You laugh and Jo giggles. "Do you see a tail?" 

She shrugs and leans over as if looking for it sticking out behind you. "You could hide it, but no, I don't see one. Too bad, I'm sure Shawn would be into it." 

"That's so weird."

"Shawn's weird." Jo says softly and goes quiet as if reflecting for a moment. "He's weird but he's also one of the best men I've ever met. You're very lucky."

"You'll find someone like him." 

"I know, one day right?" 

"Yeah. One day."

_____________________

Shawn takes you home later that evening. Lindsay and Ryan both disappeared, you've no idea where they went but they were not around when you crept down the stairs with Jo after talking for a while. You're sure Shawn must have come to find you and heard you and Jo talking and left you alone. It turns out that Jo has a lot in common with you. You both love cats despite your wolf nature, you both like to knit and sew, she loves coffee and you obviously do too. It's great, and she gives you hope that maybe you could be part of the pack one day.

Shawn turns the Jeep down your street and he reaches over and lays his hand on your leg. "I'm proud of you today."

"Why?"

"You talked to Jo. You let her apologize to you for what she did. I knew she would, that she doesn't think like Lindsay and Ryan." He pulls into your driveway and kills the engine. "I'm sure it's not easy for her to see us together."

"You know how she feels about you?"

"Yes." He sighs. "I've never lead her on, and I tried to always keep everything as platonic as possible. Still she always had that look in her eye. It kills me to break her heart but she knows that mates are not a choice."

"Yeah, she knows."

"Can I come in?"

You lift his hand from your leg and press your palm to his. It's so warm, and so big. "I'm just going to go to bed, but if you want to, I won't say no."

"I'd love to."

You and Shawn go into the house and he goes to the kitchen to make a cup of tea with the chamomile bags you brought with you. You go to the bathroom and clean up, wash your face, put on some lotion before bed, the usual things.

"You're so beautiful."

You shut off the sink and look over at Shawn leaning against the door frame. He's smiling, soft and gentle, just a slight turn of his lips. "Thank you."

"Everything about you is so inviting." He steps into the small bathroom and sets down the mug of tea he's cradling in his hand. He walks you back against the counter after you turn around to hang up your hand towel. "Your eyes, your smile...your voice." He trails off, eyes heavy on your lips. "I'm so lucky."

"I'm lucky, not you."

"No, I'm a hundred percent sure I'm the lucky one." He brushes back a bit of stray hair that's fallen in your face. "Y'know... we're mates and we haven't even kissed."

"Yeah?" You smile playfully. "So what?"

"So maybe I could change that."

"Or maybe you can wait." You press two fingers to his lips and he kisses them. "Let's let it happen naturally. There's no fun in just doing it for the sake of doing it."

Shawn smiles and scratches your ear briefly before stepping back just a bit. "I'll wait forever if I have to. I know it'll be worth it."

You grab his hands and walk backwards toward the doorway. "I know it will be. Now, are you going to stay again?"

"If you're comfortable with that, yes."

"I'm very comfortable with it."

Shawn breaks one hand away and he grabs the mug of tea from the counter. "Alright then, lead the way honey." 

—————

Please send feedback in asks, replies or reblogs. Let me know if you’d like to read more of this story. Thank you so much -A

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Pursue - Jim Hopper x Reader

Summary: How far can you push Hopper before he loses control?

Characters: Jim Hopper x female reader

Words: 5,310

Warnings: smut, language/dirty talk, light bondage, throat fucking, praise kink, implied age gap, I think that’s it? This is dirty smut so if that’s not your thing, don’t read. 

Author’s Note: This was written for sherrybaby14′s Fall Into You writing challenge. My prompt was to use the line “You want to be my good girl, don’t you?”

Pursue

Grinning with amusement, you twirled the phone cord around your finger and tried to sound innocent, though you both knew it was all an act. The mission was to drive Chief Jim Hopper mad with lust, and so far, your plan was working brilliantly.

 You had been teasing him all day, starting in the morning when he had received a call right as he got to the office. You could practically feel his surprise at your bold words, detailing to him how you were still laying naked in bed and wrapped up in sheets that smelled like him, wishing he was there to satisfy the lust you were currently feeling. He had growled out that you were going to regret teasing him when he got off work, and when you baited him further by saying that maybe you should just pull out your vibrator and pretend it was him, he gave a strangled groan and hung up. You had called about an hour later, and when Flo answered and said Hopper was busy, you asked her to relay the vague message of, “I took care of the situation myself.”

 It was now his lunch break, and you had, of course, taken advantage of the opportunity to call again, knowing that he couldn’t resist his curiosity about what else you’d have to say. You mentioned buying some new lingerie, a black lace teddy that clung to your curves like a second skin.

 “The neckline goes down a bit too low, so that I’m almost popping out. And I had no idea that the back would be a thong, but oh well, too late to return it now,” you said with an exaggerated sigh, listening intently for his response.

 Satisfaction darted through you at the unmistakable sound of increased breathing on the other end; you could clearly envision him in his office chair, leaning forward over his desk with a death grip on the receiver. The thought of him sitting there with a hard-on and trying to imagine what you looked like only served to ramp up your own desire, thighs squeezing together where you lounged on the couch in the aforementioned lingerie.

 “Don’t you want to know why it’s too late to return it?” you pouted, biting your lip to stifle a giggle.

 “Why?” His voice was raspy with desire, making it sound so low and commanding that you shivered.

 Giving a slow grin, you whispered, “Because I’ve been wearing it all morning, so it’s soaked from me thinking about you.”

 Dead silence. He must be holding his breath, body taut and unmoving. You knew because you were doing the same thing. Then, the smallest click...and the following silence lasted only a few seconds before the beep of a disconnected line sounded.

 He hung up?!

 Annoyed at the thought of him ending the conversation right as it was getting good, you redialed the station. Poor Flo was probably getting sick of transferring your calls to Hopper’s office, but she did so anyways. After the dozenth ring, it was obvious he had either left or was purposely ignoring you. Hanging up the phone, you puffed out an irritated breath that the game was over...for now.

 Getting up from the couch, you decided to make a sandwich for lunch. You grabbed your purple house robe and put it on over the black teddy before going to the kitchen to hunt down some lunch meat and bread. You really should go to the store later, seeing as how Hopper’s frequent visits had dwindled the fridge down to practically nothing. You and the Chief had officially started dating about six months ago, but it was only the past month or so that he seemed to spend more nights here than at his cabin.

 Getting the tall, brooding man’s attention hadn’t been an easy feat. It had taken weeks of you finding various excuses to stop by the station for him to finally get the hint. He later admitted that his cop buddies had all but begged him to ask you out, and that he genuinely hadn’t thought you’d be interested, the silly man. Usually you preferred playing a little harder to get, but from the moment you moved into Hawkins and met Chief Jim Hopper, you wanted him. And if you had to act a little too obviously interested to get his attention, then so be it. Otherwise he’d have never gotten a clue, since he’d had some warped idea that you were too young and pretty for him.

 But once you had gone on that first date, the rest was history. It had been hot and heavy from the start, especially after he’d asked what you were doing at Enzo’s with him and not someone younger and more carefree, someone who had their life together. You had smiled, grabbed his hand where it laid on the table, and told him that none of the youthful boys around town made you wet with just one glance, and none of them made you feel both recklessly turned on and completely safe at the same time. But he did.

 He had practically eye-fucked you for the rest of dinner, and you barely made it back to your place in one piece, Hopper unable to keep both hands on the wheel during the drive there. He had fucked you up against the wall right inside the front door, and it would be a miracle if the neighbors hadn’t heard your screams of ecstasy.

The chemistry between the two of you was off the charts, and it was by far the best sex you’d ever had. Just the thought of the things Hopper could do, of the reactions he was able to elicit from your body, had a shiver going down your spine as you cut the sandwich in half and took a bite.

 You had just finished chewing and swallowing when there came the unmistakable sound of tires screeching recklessly into the driveway, followed shortly by the loud slam of a car door. Putting down the sandwich, you walked from the kitchen into the living room. Right as you were starting to feel a bit alarmed, someone came up the front steps and crossed the porch, and your worry instantly turned into excitement. Those heavy, booted steps could only belong to one man...

 Standing there with bated breath, you heard the key you had recently given him turn in the lock, anticipation making your thighs clench. The door swung open and there he was, filling the entrance with his broad shoulders, gaze immediately zeroing in on where you stood in the middle of the living room. He walked inside, the door slamming slightly as he forcibly closed it with his boot. Dressed in his snug Chief’s uniform, your mouth watered at the sight of all that sexually frustrated man focused in your direction. His eyes trailed down over your form, nostrils flaring as he realized that all that stood between him and the lingerie you had teased him about was a thin layer of purple terry cloth.

 He took a step forward, but then halted when you danced backwards two steps. Brows furrowing, he took another step to test the waters, and sure enough, you backed up again. A teasing smile and cocked eyebrow signaled your enjoyment of the game, though Hopper looked far from amused. He suddenly came at you with a growl, but before he could get within arm’s reach, you turned with a squeal and fled.

 Adrenaline, fueled by a mixture of fear and excitement, pumped through your veins as bare feet darted from the living room and across cool kitchen tiles. The roles were suddenly switched from earlier, and the pursuer was now the prey.

 Skidding around the counter island in the kitchen, you grabbed the edge of the surface to help halt your forward movement, breath accelerated as you saw Hopper storm into the room only a second later. He eyed the counter with disdain then looked up and locked eyes with you, the intensity in his stare causing hair to stand up on the back of your neck.

 “You’re only digging yourself a deeper grave, sweetheart,” came the gruff warning.

 “That so?” you taunted back. “Guess you’ll just have to punish me then...if you think you’re quick enough, old man.”

 You saw the flash of anger in his eyes at your jab a split second before he charged around the counter on your right. Almost falling for it, you started to run to the left before realizing at the last second that he had only feinted going one way before abruptly turning around and charging the opposite. His intent was to cut you off before you could make it out of the kitchen, but you ruined the plan by skidding to a stop on the tiles. He was almost within arm’s reach when you flew back the other way, careening around the same side of the counter you had entered from and making a break across the kitchen back towards the living room.

 Heart in your throat, you sprinted through the lower level of the house, the bottom of the robe flapping out behind you like a beacon. There was a dart of euphoric satisfaction that you had thwarted him, as you beelined straight for the staircase with the goal of making it to the bedroom and closing the door. If you could get it locked in time, then it would be beyond entertaining to see what his next move would be. Images of him begging you to open the door and let him in flashed through your mind, making you smirk with sadistic glee. However, you should’ve known he wouldn’t let you get that far. Despite his size, Hopper was swifter and lighter on his feet than most people would suspect. In fact, you’d later look back and wonder if he had purposely let you think you were winning, and had actually been toying with you the entire time before waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in and capture his prey.

 You hadn’t even heard him gaining on you, so it came as a surprise when you only made it halfway up the staircase before strong fingers wrapped around your ankle, causing you to fall to your knees on the carpeted steps with a cry. Refusing to admit defeat, you continued to try and move forward, leg kicking against his grip, but he was unrelenting. You felt him come up the steps behind you, the presence of his large body hovering expectantly, waiting for you to turn over and accept your fate.

 “You should know better than to run from the police, baby,” he drawled in a raspy, lust-ridden voice.

 A shudder of arousal went through you at the words, and you slowly turned over onto your back, his hand still holding your ankle captive. He was looming over you, his broad frame blocking out the rest of the world. Looking up at his face, you saw that his pupils were blown wide with lust. The sight caused a smirk to twitch at the edges of your lips, satisfied to know that you weren’t the only one physically affected by all of this.

 “You think this is funny?” he growled menacingly, leaning down until his face was inches from your own. “Did you enjoy making me chase after you? Perhaps I should show you what happens to bad little girls who play games with the chief.”

 With that, his grip left your ankle as he all but tore into the tie of your robe, flinging it open and off your body. A groan of masculine arousal accompanied his hand diving between your legs, and you gave a soft cry at the feel of his fingers pressing into the soaked crotch of the teddy.

 “You weren’t lying about not being able to return this, baby. Even if the wetness wasn’t enough evidence, they’d be able to smell your cunt on it from a mile away.”

 Gasping at his filthy words, you were so focused on arching up into his fingers for more friction that you barely registered the sound of clinking metal. The realization of what he was doing hit a second too late, as Hopper lifted his hand from your crotch, grabbed both your wrists, and had the handcuffs clicked into place in the span of mere seconds. Even though it was futile, you still pulled at the cuffs, which only served to press the unrelenting metal into your flesh. You gave a huff of frustration that instantly turned into a squeal of surprise when he picked you up off the steps and threw you over his shoulder. Desire swirled in you at how his strength made you feel light as a feather, while the world also swirled as your head was suddenly upside down and staring at an absolutely delectable ass in tight, beige pants.

 Your own ass must’ve also been a distraction, as a warm hand came down with a smack on your left buttock that was bared by the thong of the teddy. He gave a second smack to the other cheek, causing you to groan and clench your fingers into the back of his shirt as he started up the rest of the steps and down the hall towards the bedroom.

 Once inside the room, he tossed you down onto the bed, back bouncing on the mattress from the force. Immediately trying to roll over and away, unwilling to admit defeat, your escape plan was cut short before it even began. His unyielding body came down over your own, thick thighs straddling your waist as he gathered your cuffed wrists in one hand and pinned them to the mattress above your head.

 Leaning down, he took your earlobe between his teeth before whispering, “Ah ah, baby. None of that. I caught you fair and square, and now you’re mine.”

 Shivering at both the feel of his mouth and the words coming out of it, your body squirmed underneath him with anticipation, declaring its surrender without your brain’s permission. Moving down to your neck, he sucked the flesh roughly, bringing blood to the surface so that you’d carry the mark of his possession around for days to come.

 The hand not holding your wrists captive ran down over your side, mapping the curves of your waist and thigh, his calloused fingers causing goosebumps to erupt on your flesh. He continued to skim past the places that wanted his touch the most, tracing fingertips lightly along the sides of your breasts in the black lace and along your lower stomach, before changing direction up and away from the part of you that wept for him. He caressed you slowly until every nerve ending was straining for him to do more, to give your body what it was craving. In response to your panting whimpers, he brought his mouth up to hover mere centimeters from your own, teasing you with his warm breaths.

 “What wrong, baby? I thought you enjoyed playing games?”

 Damn him to hell. You had no clue how he still had any control left, but apparently he was keeping a tight rein on his desire until he paid you back in full for your earlier teasing. You had meant to drive him mad with lust and be in control of the situation, but had apparently underestimated Hopper’s revenge tactics, which left you as the one panting and begging for more.

 Giving a groan of frustration when both large hands lifted from your body, you felt cold and bereft. Frustration turned to excitement at the sight of his fingers undoing the front of his pants, and you subconsciously licked your lips at the sight. Giving a deep chuckle at the motion, Hopper rasped, “Yea, you got the right idea, baby.”

 When the pants were unbuttoned and unzipped, he reached inside and pulled out his thick cock, the tip already weeping with desire. Unable to help the impulse, you lowered your hands towards it like a moth to flame, but they were grabbed roughly before you could even make contact. Shoving them back into the mattress above your head as he once more covered your body with his own, he leaned down and growled, “You want to be my good girl, don’t you?”

 A raspy moan and frantic nod was your response, the teddy becoming even more soaked at his words. A slow, arrogant smirk curled his lips; Hopper knew how much you got off on being praised, and he wasn’t afraid to use that knowledge to his advantage.

 “Then do as I say and keep your hands just like that, sweetheart. If you don’t move them while I fuck your pretty little mouth, then maybe I’ll let you come.”

 Another panting nod was all you could manage at the moment, your gaze fixated on the cock bobbing closer to you as he moved up the bed until he was straddling your shoulders. Grabbing his dick with one large hand, he gave a few slow, rolling strokes before placing the tip against your lips.

 “Open up, baby. Time to show the chief what a good little cock sucker you are.”

 You obeyed instantly, lips parting on a moan as Hopper fed you his cock. He started off slow and easy, barely moving his hips, which automatically motivated you to take control. Moving your head back and forth, you took him in with no added assistance. Grunts of pleasure fell from above as your tongue swirled around his tip and mouth worked his length. Looking upwards, you felt another gush of wetness between your legs at the sight of Hopper staring back down at you, heavy-lidded gaze focused on the sight of his cock disappearing between your lips.

Suddenly, he went from passive recipient to once more being in charge. His hand grabbed the back of your head and pulled forward while thrusting his hips. The movement forced his cock down your throat until his balls hit your chin and dark pubic hair tickled your nose, a strangled, fuck coming from the man above you. Eyes instantly watering as you gave a slight gag, you looked up at Hopper pleadingly, even though you knew the sadistic part of him loved watching you struggle to take him.

 It was all you could do to keep your wrists in place and not try to buck him off, but then his other hand came down and gently cupped your face as he rumbled, “What a good girl. You look so fucking sexy while choking on my dick, baby. I can’t decide if I want to come down your throat or wait until I get in that beautiful pussy.”

 His words caused your throat to instantly relax and loosen in submission, while your pussy clenched tightly with jealousy that it wasn’t the one being currently filled. As if he knew your body’s new dilemma, he reached back and down between your legs, which instantly spread to make room for his hand. Shoving the soaked fabric to the side, he ran a thick finger down your slit, causing your hips to buck and throat to moan around his cock, the vibrations wringing a strangled snarl from his lips. Two fingers easily slid inside your dripping cunt, his thrusts accompanied by the sloppy wet sounds of your arousal gushing around his digits. You felt dizzy, both with desire and the lack of oxygen, as you laid there with his dick down your throat, clenching on his fingers. Both your mouth and pussy provided him with a warm, wet welcome and begged for more, the two of you groaning simultaneously at the sensations.

 Disappointment and oxygen hit your lungs when he suddenly pulled out of your mouth, a long string of saliva hanging precariously between the tip of his cock and your lower lip before it broke and fell. Giving a cough and taking a deep gasp of air, you felt his fingers also leave your body as he reached into the front pocket of his undone pants and pulled out a set of keys. It was obvious by his pulsing, reddened cock that he had been close to coming but decided to wait until he got between your thighs, a decision which made your cunt pulse in eager anticipation.

 Jingling the keys teasingly between his fingers, he said, “You still going to be a good girl if I take these off?”

 Nodding frantically, you arched your body underneath him, panting, “Yes! Please, Jim!”

 Satisfied with your submissive response, he leaned up over your head, and you felt the cuffs fall away as he unlocked them. He set both cuffs and keys on the bedside table before taking a moment to bring your wrists down in front of his face, rubbing them gently while inspecting to make sure there hadn’t been any damage done. The gesture sent a flutter through your chest; even during intense moments such as this, Hopper’s protectiveness still reared its head, reinforcing that you were always safe with him.

 Once satisfied with his inspection, he moved off the bed before turning to fix desire-blazed eyes on you, thighs spread and chest panting as you awaited his next move. Without hesitation, he reached down and shoved the teddy’s straps off your shoulders, roughly peeling it down your body as if he were a kid tearing into a long-awaited present on Christmas morning. The fabric scraped down over your rock-hard nipples, causing a faint shiver, then was pulled off your hips and legs so that the cool air of the room hit your desire-glazed cunt.

 “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

 Smiling at his praise, you arched your back a little and cupped both hands under your breasts, offering yourself up to him.

 The animalistic sound that came from his throat sent chills down your spine, and he wasted no time in tearing off his uniform. You watched greedily as more and more skin was revealed, biting your bottom lip to muffle the moan of arousal when he stood naked and proud. You got a fine view of his muscled ass when he walked across the room to his chest of drawers, yanking the top one open and pulling out a condom. He came back but stopped at the foot of the bed, his sharp gaze searing a path down the length of your curves before lifting and locking onto your own.

 “Be a good girl and get on your hands and knees for the chief, baby,” he commanded in his best cop voice while tearing open the condom and rolling it down his throbbing cock.

 Body begging to be filled, you immediately obeyed, flipping onto all fours on the mattress, ass up and legs widely parted in presentation. Unable to resist a little teasing, you slowly rocked your hips back and forth while looking over your shoulder at him with a knowing grin. A jolt of excitement went through you at the expletive hissed from a clenched jaw, his predatory gaze raking downward, greedily taking in the way you were spread out on the bed and waiting for him. He had frozen for a moment with your movement, but quickly recovered and moved forward onto the bed at record speed, his body radiating heat and hunger as it came up behind your own.

 His rough hands trailed down over your sides while his cock bumped against your inner thighs, causing a shudder to ripple along your flesh. Arching back into him, you let out a whine of impatience, tired of the games and just wanting him to fuck you.

 Knowing you were getting desperate, he leaned down so his front fit to your back with mouth at your nape, as he whispered, “You ready for my cock, sweetheart?”

 His words stole your breath, so that you could only nod frantically before pulling enough oxygen to breath out a shaky, “Yes.”

 Unable to deny both of you any longer, he reached down with one hand to line his dick up at your entrance, and slowly pushed inside. Mewling with pleasure, you tried to widen your thighs even more on the mattress and gripped the bedspread as your walls stretched around his thick length. Fuck, but he was big, and your body never failed to remind you of that. No matter how many times the two of you had sex, that slight burn of possession always made itself known during that first thrust.

 Once he was balls deep, he went still for a few long moments, both of you savoring the feel of him deep inside. Then he planted his left hand down on top of your own on the mattress, the gesture dominant and possessive, yet also reassuring, while his other hand snaked around the front of your waist and dove between your open thighs. The tips of his fingers unerringly found your swollen clit, zeroing in with tight, fast circles in the rhythm needed to make you moan and instinctively push back into him. If there was one thing Hopper had learned over the past months of dating, it was exactly how to touch you in a way guaranteed to make come.

 And if there was one thing you had learned about Hopper, it was that dirty talk affected him just as much as it did you.

 “You can go again later, right?” you tried to sound seductive and saucy, but it came out as more of a breathless whimper.

 “Was that an insult, little girl? You think I can’t keep up with you?” he growled in your ear, fingers speeding up into even faster and tighter circles on your bundle of nerves.

 Shaking your head, you gasped, “I just really...w-want…I want to...”

 “Want to what?”

 Almost convulsing at the carnal, deep command in his voice, you panted loudly for a few moments before answering. “I want to finish what I started...suck you off. I want to feel you come in my mouth.” The words were puffed out in a rush at the end, head dropping forward from the overwhelming pleasure of his body over and in yours.

 “Fuck,” was the only verbal response, followed by the hand on top of yours lifting to grip tightly onto your hip. His thrusts increased until you had to clench the bedspread for dear life to keep from being forced face-first into the headboard.

 Even though it was usually him using filthy words to take control, to make you beg and come, the idea of turning the tables caused more wetness to run down your thighs. He might be dominating your body right now, but you had the key to dominating his mind.

 “Do you want that? Me taking your cock in my mouth, deep down my throat.”

 “Sweetheart…” he groaned warningly, his hips stuttering out of rhythm for a moment as he fought off his orgasm. The fingers at your hip dug in painfully as he jackhammered into you, while his other hand kept its punishing rhythm on your clit. Toes curling, you could feel him start to lose his iron-tight control, and fuck if that didn’t amp your own arousal up to new heights.

 “I want it...I want to suck your dick and...swallow every drop of your cum,” you gasped between heaving breaths.

 “Jesus fuck!” he cried, and a dart of triumph went through you as he upped his movements in a way that was pure carnal instinct, his control flying out the window and body taking over. Cock pounding so hard that his balls slapped your clit with each thrust, the wet sounds coming from your bodies was so obscenely erotic that you could only moan in response and hold on. The coil drew tighter until you were unable to speak even if you wanted to, knuckles turning white and every muscle in your body tensed as you hurtled towards the peak.

 With an animalistic groan, Hopper went over the edge, his large body shaking behind yours as the throes of ecstasy hit him. Not wanting to leave you behind, he kept thrusting, trying to drag you down with him. When his hand lifted away for a split second, only to then come down hard in a slap directed perfectly on your throbbing clit, you exploded. Sparks of pleasure radiated through your entire body, making your back arch and cunt pulse as you wordlessly cried out Hopper’s name like a litany.

 It took a while to come down from the high, both your bodies shuddering against one another with aftershocks. Giving a whimper when his now-limp cock left your body, you collapsed onto your side at the same time he also rolled onto the bed. Snuggling up behind you, his body spooned along your own so you could still feel his chest rapidly rising and falling, his breaths loudly puffed out against the back of your neck and causing goosebumps on your sweat-dampened flesh.

 You laid there in silence for a couple minutes, just soaking in the moment and allowing your heart rates to slow down to a more normal rhythm. Rolling over to face Hopper, you ran soothing fingers over his chest and looked up at him, happy to see his usual brooding expression had relaxed and the usual lines of tension he carried in his face and shoulders had eased.

 “So?” you asked expectantly, trying not to grin when his eyebrows raised in question.

 “So, what?” he grumbled, voice already taking on a sleepy quality that let you know he wouldn’t be conscious for much longer.

 “So...was I a good girl? Or do I need to try again?”

 His eyes, which had been drifting shut, shot back open and locked onto yours. He studied you intently, cop face firmly in place. “Ma’am, are you purposely trying to kill me? Because murdering a police officer is a serious offense.”

 Giggling with delight, which made his own lips curl upwards at the edges, you leaned in and whispered against his lips, “Even more serious than running from said police officer?”

 Closing the distance so that his mouth covered your own, he kissed you breathless before pulling back and murmuring, “They’re both serious, and you’ll be punished accordingly once I get feeling back in my legs.”

 Smiling, you traced fingers down along the side of his stubbled cheek and across his strong jaw. “I think it was only fair, considering.”

 “Hmm?” was the rumbled response, his eyes once again closed.

 “I just figured that after all the pursuing I did in the beginning to get your attention, it was about time you were the one who had to chase me.”

 Groaning in exasperation, he wrapped large arms around your waist and pulled you in close, body pressed full-length against his own. “You and the boys at the station are never going to move on and let me live that down, are you?” This was murmured in a low tone that let you know he wouldn’t be conscious for much longer, and you internally preened that he was so worn out.

 Since it was obvious he didn’t plan on returning to work anytime soon, you laid your head on the pillow next to his with a contented sigh. A quick nap couldn’t hurt before you roused him for round two and made good on your dirty words from earlier. You could hardly wait to try and make him lose control again, and maybe you could even sneak those handcuffs back in somehow.

 A soft snore broke the silence, Hopper unable to stay conscious long enough to finish the teasing conversation. However, knowing he was asleep made you bold enough to answer his question in a more honest way, the words a whispered confession of commitment.  

 “If it means more afternoons like this, then no, I won’t move on...ever.”

[scarletfokx]

Regarding episode 58- Beware, there shall be spoilers!

Okay, so, Peacock and Runyu have a convo where Jinmi overhears them talking and figures out that Runyu knew that Xufeng wasn't her parents murderer before she killed him. Then after peacock leaves and Runyu wants to get some shuteye before the wedding he is confronted by Jinmi who shouts at him in angst.

It was a powerful scene. And extremely...unjustified.

I personally believe that in her mind Jinmi still wanted to escape the blame of everything bad that happened because it all revolved around her, and she obviously didn't want to marry Runyu, hell, she didn't even PRETEND to care about him. She didn't even show friendly affection. The thing is...is what she said fair or true?

I want to point out that it would have been cruel of him to tell her that peacock was the real murderer after she already killed Xufeng, and even if he wanted to tell her he couldn't because she put herself in a coma. He couldn't exact her revenge because even though he denys it and we know he is jealous of Xufeng, he still loved his brother deeply and the damn peacock was the only thing keeping Xufeng alive. I couldn't find the episode before the wedding/murder, so I'm not entirely certain that Runyu DIDN'T know who was behind Jinmi's parents murder, but I doubt he would have let her go through the injustice he had to, that's against everything he stands for and let's face it, he DID fix the heavenly realm and the six realms as best he could after the corrupt ruling of his parents.

I'm posting this because I really need to know what you guys think. I barely sleep at night now and this injustice infuriates me in bed for hours!

Jinmi didn't give him the opportunity to defend himself properly. She even scared him and riled him up with the fear of losing her. He just took her words like whips.

How did he use every inch of her? He didn't marry her, he didn't sleep with her...and as for her accusations of him never loving her and only loving himself...he never loved himself until he met her. He loved her because she taught him to love himself. It was sincere and honest and it never changed. (Love triangle my ass, they never gave Runyu a fighting chance! Xufeng always got seen and acknowledged for his actions but Runyu never did.)

He also genuinely never wanted the throne. He just wanted to give her the best life could offer, in a world fit for someone as pure and innocent as her to live in. He fixed it up and took on all the dirty work and responsibility...

When she accused him of approaching her in the beginning because she was close to Xufeng and using her to spy on him...LIES. I literally (in my obsession for justice) searched all the scenes and annalised them closely up till episode 16 for this, and no, he didn't ever spy on Xufeng intentionally, and he was genuinely interested in her because he liked her, NO OTHER REASON!

And he is smart, but even he didn't suspect that she was related to Water Immortal the day of the empress's birthday. Sure it surprised him, but the hail stone isn't far off from all the other wierd and unexplainable things she did. He didn't he know about his mother yet, or the conspiracy. He eavesdropped on them all after HE helped save her from the empress (no thanks might I add), to learn the truth about her. He didn't plan to use it against her or anything!

As for pretending to not have seen her father...guys and girls, if it got you brownie points when you were behind in the live competition, wouldn't you do the same? It WAS underhanded, but it wasnt a bad thing really. In a way it was cute and showed us how he wanted to impress his in laws, goddamn, he has been teased about the nonexistent fiance for ages and now he finally has her, AND it's the one and only girl that he likes!

Anyone else think that Xufeng SHOULD have stepped down because it was the right thing to do? It WAS the right thing to do. He was willing to leave her when he thought they were related, yet he still left his father with her to show her that his feeling didn't even change! So why should Runyu's have? It doesn't mean he knew anything! And for his brothers sake, his brother who never asked for anything but gave as much as he could to his brother who already had everything, he WOULDN'T step down. WTF?!

Yes there was something between Jinmi and Xufeng already which was ofc, 99% only Xufeng's affection anyway, but this was his brothers promised bride for gods sake! Is it wrong for Runyu to pursue her? It was wrong for Xufeng to pursue her in the mortal realm! And was Runyu wrong for restoring the elixir? No. He did it for selfish reasons, but also for her own health as he always does. Love, even true love, is NEVER entirely selfless. This gave him equal footing to Xufeng to try and win her love.

And for the record, she is the o e who said she liked Runyu, even though he did understand it as the 'friend' way, as he also proved by playing 20 Questions. He never pressured her into staying in the arranged marriage, even when he knew she was trying to get out of it. He really just wanted her to be happy.

Runyu didn't need her fathers help to fight Xufeng, he needed his help to overthrow his parents and to stop the tyranny. Her father was already wanting to exact justice for Jinmi's mother, so they had similar interests. Didn't Runyu's mother deserve justice? I get how she abused her son, and to me it will forever be unforgivable, however by that point she was already driven into insanity.

The beast of dreams part was also a low blow. It's one of the few things that actually belong to him and he gave it to her in a sincere gesture way before anything terrible happened. Sure maybe he could have been using it to watch over her, but hello, he was protecting her!

I have no doubt that he believed that Jinmi would go against Xufeng for him, but I doubt he expected THAT outcome. The way she screams that she only loved Xufeng...his heart...you can just see it shattering!

And hello again, he IS the most innocent, kindest person around there who doesn't even expect praise for anything he does! Xufeng shows off while Runyu hides away. I doubt he ever wanted the entire world to adore and respect him :'D I mean...does she know him at all?!

Can you really tell me he wasn't sincere when he professed his love to her? <\3 Can you imagine the hurt he felt seeing her and Xufeng having sex in the dream? By then they all knew she was Runyu's fiance, and even worse, Jinmi couldn't love or show romantic love so Xufeng ALSO manipulated her into feeling and doing what he wanted. There are no two-ways, that is a damned fact. Runyu knew he had no place staking a claim or getting revenge for something that still wasn't his yet so HE DIDN'T! Even when she spied on Xufeng in the demon realm and kept getting into trouble, he kept saving her again and again, more times than Xufeng, and yet he asked for nothing. She he hurt him by saying she 'owe's him' OUCH! He gave her half his life!

(Somebody You Loved is totally his song btw!)

I feel that Runyu is like a heartbroken husband who knows his wife is having an affair with his own brother but because he loves them both he just continues being good and hoping with all his heart that she will open her eyes and realise that he is the right person for her, not Xufeng. I can imagine a man laying alone in bed and being grateful that his wife still came home to sleep. That's how much its synchronizes.

He then bore his heart open for her to see and told her the things that mattered to him and she told him he didn't deserve to be loved...O.M.G. Okay, so, I won't lie...I'm a crier. I cry easy. But this had me bawling like an infant because both sides were just so...I'M STILL DYING INSIDE! He wasn't even lying about giving up being the emperor! He really meant it. <\3

How desperate he was made it so much worse. He made some wrong choices in life, who hasn't? She killed an innocent man for a crime he didn't commit, and yet...

Runyu believed that she would understand and learn to live him in time. She could have. He knew the self hate was killing her inside so he even told her to hate him. <\3 All he wanted was to love and protect her. And then she dropped his heart scale like it was nothing. NOTHING. O.M.G!<\3

And when he said 'In the future, if we get married you might not be treated fairly. Would you mind?' He meant that she would be treated the way he was which was horribly! She didn't mind then, so where did that faith go?

His memories at the end scene...just so sad. I think I got an eyelash in my eye. He brokenly picked up his scale. Despite how she hurt him he won't regret it because he did it all for her.

After she died and the flowers all disappeared, including the one in his hand...it was heartbreaking. That's all he had left of her. At the end when he sits on the throne alone and in the dark,(except for his aid and the beast of dreams), he doesn't even resent her a tiny bit, but he has everything except the one he tried to get it all for. That's just...they really did him wrong.

My problem is that (and I started a fanfic that I'm too muddleheaded to continue atm) I can't get over this injustice. I'm one of those people who really just can't take it. In all of two weeks I watched Novoland S1and2, Ashes of Love, and The Eternal Live S1and2, and through all that, this scene sticks out worst of all of the injustices. Not even Tingjun's cruel fate.

Am I the only one who see's Runyu like this? Tell me what you think, I need someone to sooth my poor mind!

[candythemew]

     There he stood. Looming over the makeshift cradle protectively. Inside the altar turned resting place, laid a small skekling. Rustled up and shivering against the red cloth that lay in the altar’s centre. A handcrafted garment insulated with azure feathers that smelt of salt and the sea. SkekZok had found it alongside the small one when he had first found the skekling a few weeks after he had… Well, he’d rather not dwell on what he had done. That was in the past; and he had to do whatever he needed to do to secure his place at the emperor’s left hand. Even if it tore what little was left of his cold black heart asunder.

     The skekling shifted around. Letting out soft cries as it attempted to get comfortable. It hadn’t grown in all its feathers yet so life was just a little bit harder for the mewling infant. It nuzzled it’s face into the feathered cloth, finding comfort in it’s familiar scent. But the cold castle air made the small bundle quiver. SkekZok pulled something out of his sleeve. It was ornate and plush. A blanket perfectly tailored to the skekling’s needs. He had commissioned the Ornamentalist to fashion some fabric into a baby blanket. It would help keep the newborn warm and safe. One of the duties SkekZok had to perform was making sure that the little one’s body temperature was always at a safe level. As well as many other things. He had to check, feed, and monitor the skekling multiple times daily to ensure the small one’s survival. This was the task he had been assigned… the task he had accepted.

     The Ritual Master reached out a clawed hand to place the blanket on the childling. Initially spooked by SkekZok’s scent, the skekling attempted to back away chirping noisily. It could barely crawl and it’s eyes were still fastened tightly shut, so it only fell back into the palm of The Ritual Master. Just as he had planned. He slightly lifted up the babe, swaddling the infant in the thick blanket. Making sure to bring the garment it adored oh so much close to it’s face to ensure it was comfortable. The skekling’s cries diminished as it nuzzled into the feathered cloth. The combination of the warmth that enveloped them, and the feathers that brushed against their cheek lulled them into a deep sleep.

     SkekZok sighed as he looked over the skekling’s sleeping form. It was peaceful. It’s breathing slow and calm like the ebb and flow of a wave. Looking at it rest peacefully almost made him as calm as it was. This was something he hadn’t felt in trine. Soon he found His thoughts wandering back to when he first brought the little one to the castle…

     Many of the Skeksis court questioned SkekZok when he returned to them with a trembling childling in hand. When he was sent away, his task was to persue the traitorous Mariner to get her out of the way of the empire’s plans. So, he was sent away. Being the bearer of the news of SkekSa’s failure and betrayal, as well as one of her closest “friends”. SkekZok was the perfect candidate to pursue her. As well as a smart one due to his knowledge of all the places she may try to hide away. He knew all the little things that made her tick. Although as hard as he looked, he never found her. Far and low, never a trace. Except for one thing… A cry.

     It had turned out that The Mariner had carried a child with someone. He had found her childling in the company of ruthless Sifan mariners. Who SkekZok had claimed were torturing the poor whelp and were about to drown it before he had bravely intervened; Slaughtering them all mercilessly. Taking the small wriggling creature back with him. Suspicion naturally arose when he told his tale. It seemed a bit… Convenient. Had it not have been for his slashed and torn robes and a fresh cut on his cheek left by a sword they would’ve assumed he was bluffing… Maybe he was.

     Everyone could tell the child was SkekSa’s. Her striking appearance was unmistakable on the little creature. But who was the Sire? Whoever it was must be punished.

     The punishment for an unmated pair to produce a skekling was severe. Especially for one to be birthed from a traitor! SkekZok had known this law well. After all, he made it himself as per the emperor’s request so that a very small amount of skeklings would ever be born. He swore that he would gladly deal an appropriate punishment to whoever the father might have been. As soon as they found out whoever that could be. The Ritual Master told the court that He had no idea who the sire was, as he had found it in Gelfling hand. The skekling was also far too young to tell apart any features aside from the ones it’s mother bestowed upon it. But he would find the father, and a fitting punishment would be served! …So he told the court…

     The other Skeksis cackled at the thought of some pathetic peer being mercilessly punished and humiliated for a period of days or even weeks in front of the whole court. Oh what a sight to behold! What exotic punishments would be deployed? Something awful to be sure. A crime on this scale was to be dealt with painfully. But before they all got too ahead of themselves, SkekSo the Emperor slammed his staff on the ground. Directing everyone’s attention back to him. As well as making the newly found skekling cry from the shock.

     “We must not forget what we have here.” The emperor spoke in a mighty tone. “Another life, another mouth to feed! …But also another addition to our legacy.” He continued as he stood up tall.

     “We ARE ETERNAL! And this… childling…” he hissed. Looking it up and down. Flashing a disgusted grimace that soon turned into a wicked smirk crept across his rotten face.

     “Although a bastard— it immortalizes our legacy here!”

     ”The Mariner was one of our finest warriors. Surely her child will follow in her footsteps.” He concluded. His hand elegantly motioning through the air as he spoke.

     “A new light be shall soon shine through our empire through the sins of those who betrayed us! Our glory shall be sung to the end of time and BEYOND!” The Emperor shouted triumphantly!

     The others cheered loudly at the speech SkekSo had given. Chattering incoherently amongst themselves. A few gossiping, Others sending suspicious looks SkekZok’s way. The Ritual Master was cold and cunning. Never caring for another soul other than himself, the law, and the phony cult he had called a religion. To “rescue” a traitor’s childling was extremely out off character. Especially a bastard childling. He had been the one to create the law against them hadn’t he?

     SkekZok The Ritual Master stood tall, making himself known and dignified. The other’s petty gossip did not phase him. He knew where he stood. He was loyal. He puffed out his chest and spoke:

     “My emperor. I am the one who found this skekling. I see that it should only make sense that I should be the one to see to it’s well-being and care.” The Ritual Master stated clearly. The frightened skekling squealing pathetically as it attempted to hide itself amongst the folds of his golden robes.

     “I only see it fit Ritual Master. You were very close to SkekSa after all.” SkekSo remarked with a click of his beak and a twirling toss of his staff.

“But if it shall interfere with any of your duties I will not hesitate to have the sniveling thing taken from your hand and given to the Scientist. SkekTek could always use more… “Volunteers” The Emperor snickered with a large toothy grin as he looked SkekTek’s way.

     SkekZok barely contained the snarl he was about to let out at the emperor— But he bit his lip and accepted the terms through clenched teeth.

     “I shall see to it then My Emperor.” He bowed.

      SkekZok’s attention naturally gravitated to SkekShod the Treasurer. Who had remained silent the entire time that SkekZok had shown the newborn to the court. He stood playing cat’s cradle with some golden thread. Although he may have seemed aloof, in reality he was soaking in all the information he had just received from this meeting intently. Deep in thought, he returned the gaze of The Ritual Master.

     “Come Treasurer, I require your assistance.” SkekZok beckoned to his closest ally. Skekshod lifted his hunched head and nodded. Following close behind as the two made their way into SkekZok’s cathedral.      The tall gold-adorned skeksis led his ally into an old room hidden behind the echoing halls of the chapel. It was once a meditation chamber used by SkekZok to receive visions from Thra, although he quickly abandoned it once the visions wouldn’t tell him he wanted to hear. This would become the newly adopted Skeksis’s room until something more appropriate was constructed. It was a wise choice. Being one of the safest rooms in the holy place. There were no weapons, no bloodstains… Dry and hidden away, with not many remembering its existence. Only adding to the feeling of safety.

     “Skekshod. I want you to hold the skekling as I empty the altar of the water inside. Together we will create a temporary nursery for this little one until it has its own quarters.”

     He passed over the overwhelmed skekling to The Treasurer. The babe still lost and scared, continued to sharply cry. It’s mewling echoing throughout the dimly lit room as Skekshod confusingly tried to carry it properly. Holding the weeping infant upside-down.

     “The one with the power blesses us for caring for his chosen and lost. Remember that as you endure it’s squealing and scratching.” The Ritual Master recited as he prepared a place for the skekling.

     Soon... things were starting to get hazy… Memories and reality blurring until he was brought back to the present… SkekZok quickly shook his head from side to side. Ah. He had been day dreaming of the unum’s events. Had it really been a whole unum? It went by too fast. That didn’t seem right. Although… nothing seemed right anymore. The world was never a simple place and he knew it. And it never would be that wonderful, simple place ever again. Not after what he had done to her… But the brief moments of relief he felt when he would care for this strange childling was all worth it.

     Taking a quick look around the chamber he noticed nobody but a few podling servants lighting candles. Good. As it should be. Once he knew he was all alone and not a sound could be heard; he lowered his large skeletal head down to the altar. Nuzzling the skekling’s soft cheek with the tip of what remained of his snout. He smiled subtly as the baby yawned and stretched. It’s gangly little limbs reaching out to him as he brushed against them. The skekling grabbed at his face with an exhausted peep, but soon grew tired again. Turning to face the opposite direction as it continued to sleep peacefully.

     The Ritual Master slowly removed his head from the cradle with a quiet hoarse chuckle. He smiled as he brushed it’s cheek one more time with his fingertips. Ever so careful as to not cut open it’s tender skin with his talons. He then stood up straight with an unmistakable wheeze as he sighed.

     “There is much I must attend to little one. May the one with the power bless you and keep you.”

     After reciting his blessing, his face returned to its natural scowl as he left the room to attend to the rest of his daily rituals and duties. He looked as if nothing had changed in his life. And everything was the same way it had been for the last 1,000 trine. Good. That’s how it should be. He was just The Ritual Master. Left hand to the Lord of all of Thra. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep his power intact. Not even a little childling that had grasped his heart tightly in its little azure claws. Or at least that’s what he would let the world see.

     “MmmMmMmMmmM…”

…A familiar whimper could be heard echoing within the cathedral.

[c-atm]

Fighting Flirty: Character Select PT4 (Act3.5)

“Um-hm-hm-hm.”

“You ok Nini? Gonna be able take my pictures with your giggling fit.”

Connie gave him a slight glance before her giggles erupted again,for the fifth time in three minutes causing him to raise an eyebrow.

“Maybe I should take your picture first, since  you've suddenly been doused with smilex.”

“I got it. I got it.” Connie reassured as she kept the phone out of Stevens reach, still giggling 

“I don't believe you.” The hybrid accused. He walked up to the table as Connie put the phone behind her, sitting on it just a bit. “ Heartberry.” He reprimanded as he reached behind her.

“Mister.” She teased as she grabbed his hands and placed his palms on her knees. “No reaching behind...to get my behind, Handsy.” She chuckled as she squeezed his hands keeping them in place.

"Oh really? I can't reach behind." His hands started to trail upward slowly over her thighs, squeezing them a little.

"Yup," she nodded with a smirk, "only my man can." She giggled again as he poked her nose with his.

"Isn't that me, though?"

"Hmmm?"  She shrugged, pursuing her lips while turning her head to her side. She snickered as he grabbed her hips and pulled her close. 

"What got you so tickled, Berry?" 

His low, slightly husky voice made her breath deep.

"You." She bit her lips, feeling the heat on her face from her feelings and his breath.

"Me?" Steven gave her a small grin.

"She nodded. "Uh-huh, You."

"What about me? Do I look funny in this?" His voice had a teasing tone as it tickled her nerves..

"Oh no. Not at all." She looked him up and down. "You're very..Hmm. Hehe." 

"What is with you?" 

"You.You're making me laugh." 

"Cause my costume, huh" He poked her stomach causing her to giggle more.

She cupped his cheeks, grinning at him. " Yes..Cause you're so cute in it." She kissed his forehead.

"And handsome." She kissed the bridge of his nose.

"And adorable." A kiss upon his nose.

"And...Gamy" She kissed his lips gently before laughing, red face. "I'm sorry, I really don't know why I'm like this right now."

Steven shook his head before taking her hands from his cheek and massaging palms of them with his thumbs.

"I get it…" He stated impishly, before making a show of running his right hand through  his hair. "My beauty has caused you delirium." 

The cocky and smug look he gave made her fall back in a tittering mess.

He twisted his lip up playfully "I know it was a joke but…"

He was interrupted when she reached up towards him smiling lovingly at him. He grabbed her hands expecting her to pull herself up. He was caught off guard when she pulled him down and enclosed him in a hug laying his head upon her heart.

"Giggling, trailed kisses, surprise hugs." He slipped his hands under her hips. "Wonder what got you so affectionate, so I can do it more.

She shook her head. "It's nothing...Just had the urge." she turns down to him. 

"A cuddle urge..a giggle urge." He looked up at her, " Sounds like you got bitten by the love bug."

She rolled her eyes at his smirk. "Doubtful." She smiled at him, holding him a bit closer. "Who would I fall for, huh?"

"Who indeed?" 

She blushed but didn't say anything. " I don't want a relationship."

"Strange thing to say red faced." He stated, her heartbeat thumping rapidly in his ear. "Did..Did Alex try to talk to you, when you were getting dressed."

Connie nodded. " She did...Asked questions about us."

"About our relationship?" He sighed before chuckling. "Wanda grilled me too."

"Same and Peri didn't help just now." 

"Yeah." 

They sat in silence for a moment, the music from the tv in front, the sound of Wanda and Alex talking about the upcoming weeks schedule and their breathing being the only noise they registered as Steven nuzzled closer.

"What did you mean?"

"Hmm?" She ran a hand through his hair.

"When you said you loved me?"

"That I love you?" There was a questionable tone to her voice. "Same as every time I did it."

"Is it?….Cause it sounded different than usual."

"Oh." She rested her lips upon his crown. " I mean..What did you hear when I said it?"

"What did you feel when you said It?"

"I asked you first."

"No...You didn't."

Connie sighed..He was right. 

"Normal.. It felt normal..easy?..I don't know.." 

That was a lie. It didn't just feel normal There was always an aura of tease.It was without the tease and play. 

'It felt so natural saying it..Meaning it...Like a breath of fresh air...A very heavy. very real...breath of fresh air.' Connie sighed lost in her thoughts.

"So, It was just part of our war?"

 Very slowly she shook her head.  

"Oh…" 

She felt Steven grinned against her causing her to stroke his hair more.

"Are you ok, with me saying that...like That."

"I mean.. Yeah, sure.. It shocked me to hear it said like that towards me.” 

“Oh, so you did hear...”

“Didn’t want to assume..”

“It didn’t make you feel weird.”

“Why would it? I mean...After everything we did so far.”

“But we always act like that when we're alone.”

“Do we?”

Connie looked at him as he smirked up at her. “We’re very physical with each other. The way we tease and comfort each other.” She stroked his cheek. 

“True..but we don’t really speak about.. This..”

“Do we have to?” Connie retorted. “I like whatever this is.This game of ours” she pressed her lips on top of  his head. "Don’t you?”

Steven heard the downtrodden tone and responded the only way he knew. Shifting off her to lay beside her on his right, causing her to face him. Cupping her cheeks, he gave her a piercing look.”I love what we have.” His face relaxed into a smile. “I love sharing...THIS, with you.”.

“Then what’s wrong, Mister?”

“Nothing wrong..It's just.” He sighed  “We’ve been a lot more free here and have gone  further than just little kissing, loving pranks, and teasing touches.” Steven looked down flushing. “Like calling me your man?”

“You started it by promising to bite me.” She grinned 

“You told me you want me to sink them in.”

Connie rubbed his hands affectionately. “Steven, did I do something wrong?”

“No.. It made me happy..”  He kissed her tenderly “ You make me happy, Connie. I just wondered if this is only going to be while we are here on your birthday weekend..or is this the new normal for us?”

Shyness and uncertainty settled inside Connie at Steven’s question. She didn’t have an answer for him. Everything that happened was just a natural progression to her.“I...” She looked down. “Honestly, I feel..”

“Nyeh-heh-heh!, Nyeh-heh-heh!”

The two looked toward the sound coming from under Connie, who sighed and removed his hands from her face. She shifted her right hip and took the phone under her. She showed him the phone with Peri’s number flashing.

She gave him an apologetic smile “We should take those pic~MMMM!!!”

Her words were lost as Steven lips met her own.She  Her eyes widened just a bit before closing in relaxation. Her instinct guided her to kiss him back, with slightly parted lips. 

It wasn’t different from any of their kisses they shared that day, physically.

Emotionally, affectionately. 

It threw her right back to the hotel room, right before they left. The feeling of just wanting to be there with him at that moment of time. Not wanting a move second more.

It is no wonder she felt a chill when he slowly broke it after kissing her quickly and gently, a few more times before settling down.    

“Steven.” She was speechless as still feeling the ghost of his kiss linger, making her mind race.

 "I love you, Heartberry." 

She froze as the phone rang again. She opened her mouth to respond.

“We’ll continue talking later.. “ He kissed her cheek before standing up and walking over to the center of the room. He turned and T-posed, giving her a grin. “Let’s give Peri her pictures and then have some fun.”

Connie breathed out before giving him a smile, lifting the camera phone towards him. Her heart pounding, her mind drifting to the hotel room, to Peridot’s teasing, his words.

The kiss.

As she gazed at him through the screen, she didn’t feel the giggles from before. Reactions from latent feelings being kept in check. 

‘Now they are slowly moving to the forefront. I don’t think I will be able to hide the depths for much longer. Which shouldn't be a problem.’  

She felt her face turn maroon as she took the first picture, before signaling to turn around.

‘I mean, I decided that I want to have a deeper connection right? Even planned to cross that line if it came down to it, stars willing.’

She gave a playful whistle before taking a shot of the back of the costume. Turning even redder as he shook his hips a bit. She took another picture catching him smirking over his shoulder, back at her.

‘I love him, he’s my Biscuit, my Man, my Mister...And more’

.”Oooh..and Save.” She sighed as she did save the picture

‘I feel so free being here with him...Being with him, period.’

“Yo Heartberry, what’s you think of this pose?”

She turned to his boyish grin and heroic stance. His right hand neck length as he left hand pulled in the right glove. He settled his face into a determined look as he stared forward as Connie lifted the. Phone and smirk. 

“Hold that pose.” She teased before taking the picture.

‘…So why do I feel..’

She gaze at the picture for a moment feeling a tightness in her chest

 ‘So uneasy?’

[xiolaperry]

Four Ways Gaston Could Have Died (and the One Way He Actually Did)

After much delay, here is the the story I promised months ago at the end of “The Piano”. It won’t make much sense if you didn’t read that one. A special thank you to everyone in my NaNoWriMo Rumbelle Writers group!!!

Summary:  We all agreed at the end of 'The Piano' that Gaston deserved to die. But how? I opened it up to prompts, and here they are...

Notes: Prompt from Brokensoul, “a haircut from Barney.”

Read “The Piano” on AO3.

Read “Four Ways” on AO3.

--

Gaston looked at himself in the mirror with a critical eye. He smiled a big toothy grin, then assumed a look of nonchalant superiority. His “intimidating” look was next and he finished with the charming, flirtatious smile he used with the ladies.

The reflection in the mirror confirmed he was as handsome as ever, but life hadn't gone back to normal since Belle left with Gold. Whispers followed him wherever he went. Instead of looking at him with admiration, people looked at him like they expected to see shame on his face. Shame? He may have overreacted a bit with Belle, but leaving a challenge to his superiority as a man unanswered was not an option.

He stroked his face in contemplation as he paced, the sound of his heavy boots filling the sparsely furnished bedroom. Perhaps he needed a haircut and a shave. Freshen up his look and maybe turn things around. His aunt Cora told him yesterday that a barber set up shop in the village. Before the incident, he'd have heard about it himself, but his friends no longer dropped by to share the local gossip.

“Not a very confident man,” Cora had said about the barber. “A bit nervous. But I can work with that.” Gaston had no doubt his aunt would find something about the fellow to exploit.

He passed Reverend Hopper and Ruby out on a stroll as he entered the town. Hopper said a polite hello and stopped to exchange pleasantries. The Reverend was one of the few that still spoke to him. His companion glared and said nothing. The charming smile on his face had no effect on her. If anything, it only made her frown harder.

How did such a mild-mannered man catch the eye of a firecracker like Ruby Lucas? Not that he wanted her for himself. Hopper could have her. No, he was done with women. They were more trouble than they were worth.

Ruby had a pretty face and a nice, lean body, he thought as he turned to watch them for a moment as the couple continued on their way. He was sure most men would find her attractive, but she'd set her mind on the mousy Reverend and pursued him with determination, ever since the day she arrived on the same ship that took them away.

His aunt was very unhappy with the match between Hopper and Granny's granddaughter. The sermons now were full of love and acceptance, instead of the grimmer messages Cora favored. Hopper was no longer her dutiful companion, and she was furious. Ruby had better watch out.

Gaston made his way down the main street with his head held high. He kept his smile on his face as he seethed at the snubs he received from most people he encountered.

The barbershop, with its new red and white striped pole, was easy to spot. He stomped up the steps and pushed the door open with a bang, making an entrance to attract attention. A slight man wearing a maroon jacket was sweeping the floor and he jumped at the noise. His hair, combed and slicked back from his face, shone in the light pouring in the large windows.

“Hello?” the man said. His voice, uncertain, made his greeting a question.

“You the barber?” asked Gaston.

“Yes, I am. Barney Thomson.” He stepped forward and extended his hand.

Gaston shook it, gripping with more force than necessary. It was important to establish dominance in all situations. After a final squeeze, the smaller man extracted his hand, wincing.

“Gaston Legume,” He introduced himself, satisfied with his superiority. “I need a shave and a haircut. Can that be done now?”

“Yes, sir. It will be a few minutes. I just need to heat some water.”

Barney scurried to one of the chairs, brushing non-existent dust from it with a handkerchief. “Please, have a seat.”

The man's meek demeanor made Gaston want to punch him in the face. And he looked familiar too. Something about the eyes, the sharpness of his nose... he shook his head. Aunt Cora told him he needed to lay low for a bit to let everything blow over. Now would not be a good time to lose his temper. He took a deep breath and sat in the chair Barney had gestured at.

---

Barney returned a few minutes later carrying a steaming basin. “If you could please lie back, Mr. Legume?” he asked, and with deft, practiced movements draped a damp, hot towel across Gaston's face.

Barney was nervous, which was not good. Bad things happened when Barney was nervous. And those bad things were how he ended up here in New Zealand, far from his home in Scotland. However, something about this man, with his massive arms and handsome sneering face, made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Calm down, he told himself. Just be happy to have a customer. But his anxiety ratcheted higher as he tried to place the name. Legume. He knew he'd heard it since he moved to town, but could not remember where. Barney removed the towel and applied a soapy lather to Gaston's face. He attempted to make friendly conversation, reminding himself not to ramble.

“Have any advice for someone new in town? I haven't been here very long, just arrived from Scotland.”

“Make friends with my aunt, Cora Mills. She's the most important person around here, so stay on her good side.”

Barney almost dropped his razor. Wasn't this just his luck. Women flustered him as a general rule. But aggressive women? They reminded him too much of his mother and rendered him a cowering mess. After meeting Cora, he had planned to stay as far away from her as possible. And now here he was with her nephew in his chair.

“Cora Mills is your aunt?” Barney's hands began to sweat as he fumbled with the razor. He sent up a prayer not to cut the man sitting here, who would not be the type to forgive an accidental slice.

“Yes. That's what I said.” Irritation was creeping into Gaston's voice.

Barney spoke to fill the uncomfortable quiet as his blade glided across Gaston's cheek, its sharp edge making quick work of the stubble. “You have beautiful skin, Mr. Legume. I'm sure your wife will appreciate seeing you with this smooth, close shave. Very handsome.” He attempted, in vain, to keep a high pitched nervous tone out of his voice.

It was the wrong thing to say, judging by Gaston's response. His jaw tensed and his hands tightened into fists, the veins in his forearms standing out. “I'm not married,” he said through clenched teeth.

Barney laughed nervously. “I'm sure someday you'll meet a special lady.” Shut up, shut up!

Gaston's face darkened further.

“I have no luck with women, myself.” He knew he was babbling, but could not keep the words from pouring out of his mouth. “Maybe your aunt could set you up with someone. Not that you couldn't find someone yourself if you wanted to. Because you could. I mean, look at you. I bet you have to beat the women off with a stick. Who wouldn't want a strapping young man such as yourself?” He stopped to take a breath, his mind spinning, begging him to stop talking.

“I. Don't. Want. A. Wife. Women are nothing but trouble.” He paused, then muttered under his breath, “Especially if they're interested in books or music.”

Barney's hand froze where it hovered over Gaston's neck. Now he remembered where he'd heard the name Gaston Legume before.

“You're the one who–—!” The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“'The one who' what?” Gaston's handsome face contorted with rage.

“The one... the one..” Barney drew a blank. There was no way to fix this. He was unable to move, prey immobilized by the predator. The razor hung just above Gaston's neck.

Gaston knew exactly what “one” he was. The one who cut off his wife's finger. The one whose wife left him for a crippled old man. The one who looked like a fool. He'd been on his best behavior for weeks and still, no one would let him forget what happened.

He sat up and whipped around, ready to give the barber a beating he wouldn't soon forget. Warmth startled him as it spread down from his neck to his chest. When he tried to speak the only sound he made was a strange, wet gurgle. His hands fumbled, slippery at the slit in his throat. He looked at them and they were crimson.

“I'm sorry!” shrieked Barney, dropping the razor. He grabbed a towel and tried to stem the flood of blood gushing from Gaston's jugular. It was a futile effort, the white towel turned red and sopping in an instant. The anger and confusion in Gaston's eyes soon faded to a dull, lifeless gaze as his life drained away, and he slumped over.

“Oh, not again,” whispered Barney with panicked tears in his eyes. He hung his head and wrung his hands. No one would believe that Gaston had inadvertently slit his own throat. Another accident, and another body to dispose of. At least he had experience.

End Notes: I hope to post a chapter a week until this is finished-- and if you have a prompt, feel free to send it! I can always change the title to “Five” or “Six”...

[thiswasinevitableid]

On brand with the last ask, could you please do a New Years indruck?

Of course!

The list is created three weeks after the world almost but ultimately doesn’t end, and a mere five days after Indrid announces he plans to stay in Kepler for the foreseeable future. 

“Hey, uh, if you wanna come with us, me and Leo and a few others are gonna go bowling tomorrow night.” Duck says these words after dropping Indrid off at his trailer, as has become their habit if both happen to be visiting the lodge at the same time.

“I would be happy to come along. I have never bowled, so I can’t promise I’ll be good.”

“Wait, really? You been on Earth, what, decades if not centuries and you’ve never gone bowling?”

A shrug, “I was alone, and often chose my activities based on my investigations and, later, on what allowed me to intervene in unwanted futures.”

Duck taps the steering wheel, “Are there other things you missed out on?”

“Plenty.”

“Like what?”

Indrid sifts through his memories, looking for the moments when he’d wistfully wondered what something was like, or turned away from an object of interest in order to pursue his mission or prevent a catastrophe.

“I...there are so many, I am afraid we would be in the car all night if I were to name them.”

Duck drums on the wheel a moment more, then snaps his fingers and reaches across Indrid to rummage in the glove box,. He pulls out a napkin and a pen, scribbles something on it before handing it to Indrid.

“Here, when you think of more, write ‘em down on this list. Probably can’t help with all of them, but I’m bettin I can help with some.”

“Thank you Duck, but why do this for me?”

He knows the answer but, selfishly, he wants to hear it in real time.

“Because you’re my friend. And hey, owe you one for tellin us our first plan to stop the Quell was gonna backfire.”

Indrid doesn’t really care about that second part of the explanation, but he smiles anyway, “I suppose that’s true. See you tomorrow.” He hops out of the car and waves as Duck pulls away, opens the ‘Bago in the dim red glow of his taillights. It’s only when he’s inside that he sees what Duck actually wrote on the list. 

Fun things Indrid’s never done

1) Bowling.

Indrid grabs Capri Sun from the fridge, sits down and picks up a pen, still laying on a nearby drawing, and adds to the list.

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

Somewhere around number 14, obtain fancy, proper manicure the list moves from Indrid’s table to Duck’s fridge. Indrid admires his shiny, pink and yellow nails while Duck crosses that item off along with number 23, eat Sushi at a place with rotating boat things. They’d driven two towns over for that combination, a Saturday well spent as far as Indrid is concerned. 

And he is. Concerned. Duck has spent nearly one day out of every weekend with Indrid since the list was created, even when the activity is something Indrid could easily do on his own. He’s bonded with others as well. Juno took a  water-coloring class with him (he’d seldom sought out other forms of art in spite of wanting to try them, drawing serve his purposes just fine) and dishing the dirt on Ducks younger days. Barclay helped him actually make a cake from start to finish. Jake taught him how to do an adequately graceful dive off a diving board. 

But more often than not, it’s Duck by his side. He enjoys the other mans’ company immensely, the warm, safe feeling that flickers in his chest when Duck is with him. Yet still he worries. 

“Duck?” He looks up from his nails.

“Yeah, ‘Drid?” 

“I appreciate all your help, and your company. But you know you do not have to do everything on the list with me simply because it was your idea, right?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m doin them because I like spendin time with you, goofus. Besides, it’s kinda fun, havin an excuse to share all the normal, cool shit of the world with someone who hasn’t gotten to experience it before. I like seein how happy it makes you”

“Oh.” Indrid says softly. He hadn’t seen that last sentence coming. Duck’s smile goes shy at the edges, and  Indrid realizes his answer was not sufficient to convey how he feels. 

“Thank you, Duck. I hope you know I always enjoy spending time with you. And there is no one I would rather explore the world with.”

“Glad to hear it” Duck leans against the fridge, “now c’mon, we’ve still got time to go feed the Ducks down on the Greenbriar.”

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

It’s the week between Christmas and New Years when Indrid discovers another item for his list. 

“So, Barclay,” Dani, visiting from Sylvain this week, flops on the lobby couch near the fire, “you’re gonna finally have someone to smooch at midnight.”

“Uh, ah, well, yeah. I mean, if Joseph wants to, of course.”

“Oh yes, that is an earth tradition, isn’t it. For luck?” Indrid cocks his head, trying to recall if he ever learned the true reason for it. 

“Maybe? I think it’s mostly an excuse to kiss.” Barclay shoots Dani a friendly glare when she bounces her eyebrows. 

“I see.”

“Have you ever gotten a New Years kiss, Indrid?” 

“No.” He answers mildly, as if the thought is already leaving his mind.

That night, as Duck is queuing up The Addams Family (it’s not a list item, they simply both enjoy the film), Indrid adds a new item to the list.

60: Kiss someone at midnight on new years

At some point during the night, Duck gets up to grab them drinks, and from the corner of his eye he sees him pause and read the list.  He says nothing about it when he sits back down, but several futures emerge where he rests his arm around Indrid’s shoulder. 

None of those futures come to pass.  Indrid tries not to be disappointed.

 He continues this futile process throughout the remaining week. True, he could ask someone to be his new years kiss, or choose the person closest by to ask on the night of. But he wants it to be Duck. Duck, with his easy smile and good heart, his fondness for gently teasing Indrid, his absurd laugh, the way he makes Indrid feel home when they’re side by side. It can’t be anyone else.

He nearly cracks during item 43, have a snowball fight, when he collides with Duck accidentally while avoiding a barrage from Hollis and Jake. They hit the ground, the human shaking with giggles beneath him. Duck catches his breath, reaches up and adjusts Indrids glasses, knocked askew in the dive. 

“Knew I was fallin for you, but this is ridiculous” he murmurs.

Indrid is a half-second away from kissing him, or at the very least asking him out, when a large snowball is dropped on top of them. He splutters, shaking powder from his head while Duck guffaws, and spots Barclay running the other way in his Sylph form. 

He hands Duck his glasses and scoops snow into all four hands “I’ll be right back, I need to perform an air strike.”

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

The lodge lobby is covered in white star lights, silver and gold streamers hang from the ceiling, and Aubrey has enchanted the clock above the fireplace to shower rainbow glitter on the room every hour, on the hour. 

Because the party invitation stated guests should dress “fancy,” Indrid is in a sparkly silver sweater and his most formal pair of sweatpants. When he sees Duck enter the room around nine, he spends a good thirty seconds admiring the way his suit flatters the sturdy, familiar curves of his frame. 

He’s given many more chances to admire them, as Duck spends much of the night by his side, sitting snug against him as they talk with their friends by the fire. Indrid allows himself to be content with this closeness, afraid that broaching the subject of the kiss will ruin things. He’s so certain it’s not worth the risk, he doesn’t bother looking at the futures. 

As midnight approaches, many of the guests crowd near the glowing count-down clock Aubrey’s created in the air. Duck and Indrid stay seated.

“Five, four, three, two, one, happy new year!” People cheer and whoop, and Indrid watches Dani dip Aubrey in a kiss, Stern cup Barclays face gently with a smile.

Oh well, there’s always next year. 

“Hey, ‘Drid.”

He turns, finds Duck with a sweet, flirtatious smile spreading across his face. Carefully, he tilts Indrids glasses up onto his forehead. Indrid leans in, pulled magnetically into Ducks arms. He hums as warm, champagne-tinged lips meet his own. 

Duck pulls back to breathe, but keeps him in the embrace, “That good enough to check off the list?”

Indrid tries to keep his voice steady, “Please don’t tell me that’s the only reason you-mphnmmmmm.” The next kiss is deeper, Duck growling gently when Indrid nips his lower lip. 

“Been wantin to do that for weeks” He nuzzles Indrids cheek, “This just seemed like the most romantic way to start things off.”

“Agreed.” Indrid kisses him eagerly, climbing into his lap.

“Whoo! But also, get a room!” Aubrey’s voice rings out, and Indrid doesn’t need to look to know many heads in the room are turned their way. 

“Apologies.” He smiles, not in the least bit ashamed, at his friends. Duck turns redder than the fire behind them.

As the party winds down, the duo says their goodbyes and head out towards the human’s car. 

‘Y’know” Duck’s voice is low, full of warm, filthy promises, “think we outgha make another list of things you been wantin to try,”

“Agreed” Indrid purrs, looping his arm around Ducks shoulder, “but I suggest we not keep that one on the refrigerator.”

[ficstogo]

Confusion

Pairing: Edward Nygma x Reader

Word Count: 4,097

Warnings: None

Summary: After hearing what Kristen Kringle had called him behind his back, Edward goes to you for comfort. Being the good friend you are, you listen to his problems and ideas.

A/N: This was originally on my Wattpad but I don’t even know if it was a good to post it here but oh well. Hopefully, somebody here likes this.

This was confusing. If you liked someone and show your affection to them, shouldn’t they like you back? That’s exactly what Edward had done but Kristen had no affection towards him at all. Instead, when she had thought he had left the room completely, she had called him a freak. A freak. Why was that necessary? I’m a human being who has feelings as well. The pain was lingering. He thought she might like the kind gesture. The cupcake was a riddle. The riddle was a compliment. He must’ve over analyzed the situation. He’s not use to doing these sort of things. Maybe Y/N might help me out with this conundrum.

Arriving in the forensic laboratory, Edward took notice of you messing about with the magnifying glass. He walks towards you, hands behind his back, and gave a slight cough to get your attention. “What’s on your mind Ed?” you said without taking your eyes off of the bullet you were observing. It was another one of those boring days you were having and the only thing to occupy you was to observe whatever was around you under the magnifying glass.

“Do you remember when you told me that if I wanted to get Miss Kringle’s attention that I would have to be romantic?”

“Yes…” Your interest had peaked. This little crush Ed is having on Kristen is the best thing that’s happened. Hearing Edward talk like some sort of awkward schoolboy amused you. This only happened once or twice back when you guys were in high school but usually only being a phase, going back to focus on his studies.

“Well I did that and it didn’t work.” He said as if the idea was nonsense to begin with.

You sighed and turned to look at him. You took off your glasses and place them on the table. “What did you do?” you said, laying your head on your hand that was in a fist.

“…I gave her a cupcake,” he said hesitantly.

“Mmhm, and you must have done something to the cupcake, obviously. You’re not telling me everything Ed.” You said with a little confidence. You knew Edward long enough to know when he’s withholding information and you love to know all.



“There was a bullet in the cupcake that I placed on her desk. She came to me a bit…disgusted. It was supposed to be a riddle so I thought I should clarify it for her.”

“A beautiful woman is a dangerous thing. Smart. Go on.”

“When I told her, I thought I’ve gotten ahold of her but detective Flass was around and well…I think you can imagine what happened next.” Edward took a seat next to you, hands clasped on his lap looking down. “She, uh, also called me a…freak.” Your body tensed. You thought these immature antics were over with, but like they say high school never ends.

Deciding against raging over the name calling, you, instead, took a deep breath without Edward noticing and responded in an adult like manner. “Are you still going to pursue her?” You try to keep a smile on your face. “Because if it were me I would stop completely. She’s ignorant and a fool and I would suggest you do so.”

“Please don’t call her that, she’s just trying to fit in is all. I probably just misinterpreted the conversation.” His eyes went wide as a false idea had manifested into a delusion in his head.

Your eyes went wide as well when you realized what he was thinking, all hope had returned to him. This is bad. His heart will break and you’re going to prevent that from happening. “Wait, Ed-”

But he cuts you off. “Of course! Us human beings are afraid of judgment and rejection, which is why she said the things she said. Miss Kringle just wants to be accepted like any other person and not be an outcast.” A shocked look immediately took place on your face. You raised your arm to reach for Edward but he came at you with a hug. “There’s still hope Y/N. Thank you for this very productive chat but I must attend to business.” A smile had spread on Edwards’ face, leaving you in a daze, wondering what just happened.

.~.~.~.~.

A few weeks went by and you haven’t heard much of Edward and his ideas about Kristen. It’s definitely a romance that is never to be. You’ve took noticed (more like observed intently) the men Kristen hung around with and none of them were like Edward. You wanted to tell Edward but was it really worth hurting his feelings? You were debating on that idea.

It was around nine that night, you were wrapping up the work you’ve been very focused on. Edward and his little dilemma were far from your mind until he showed up to the lab, his aura feeling tense. “I’m done.” he stated. He looked at you waiting for your response.

You looked at him a bit surprised but then your eyebrows knitted into confusion. “Done with what exactly? It’d be nice if you could elaborate on what you’re talking about.” You faced him, preparing yourself for what was to come.



“Kristen, this crush, my efforts in winning her affection. The Buffoons she hangs around with! They are complete imbeciles and are only going to lower her IQ by the minute!” his arms were in the air, expressing his inner struggles. “Why am I worrying over her petty IQ! I bet it’s not even as high as mine. I try and try but does it matter to her? No, absolutely not!” He paced around the room with his face flushed red.

You placed your hand on his arm a bit worried about him. You didn’t know how to handle this, not with Ed. Concern washed over your face. “Ed, Ed, what happened?” you said before he could start up his rant again.

“I was about to make my move. I was completely prepared. I had flowers and plans lined up for her. Instead, I found out that she has a new boyfriend.” he spat out the word. “Earlier that day, she said that there are better men out there, which, in my point of view, thought she was referring to me. Instead, it was another low leveled pathetic creep that was taking her out.” while Edward was talking you lead him to a chair to sit on while you sat across from him, completely focused on his words. That was spewing from him. It was like watching a dragon spit fire from his mouth with rage.

“I’m sorry Ed. To be honest I wanted this little thing between you two to work out. You two were going to be my favorite ‘nifty fifties’ couple.” You gave a small chuckle to lighten up his mood. How else were you going to deal with this? Say ‘I told you so.’ Obviously, that wasn’t an option.

“Oh please don’t laugh, this isn’t a joke.” he said irritated.

“I’m not laughing and I never said it is a joke. In my opinion, this whole thing is problematic, a nuisance. I know you like her a lot Ed, but don’t always expect other people to like you back.” You spoke to him as if he were a young child, putting your hand on top of his. “Just remember you have friends that care.” Edward then stood up at that.

“What friends? You mean the ones that use to beat me up and make fun of me because my intellect is far more superior than theirs? All my life I’ve had apes wail on me because of their lack of understanding and intelligence. I couldn’t get a girlfriend because all the girls thought I was weird and 'nerdy’. Spare me the lies Y/N, I have no friends, I have strangers that don’t care.”

You didn’t understand. Wasn’t I his friend? You thought. Your heart ached and you wanted to understand what just came out of his mouth. You were there taking care of him just to find out that it didn’t matter at all to him. You looked down, fist clenched, anger ready to be released. “Am I among those strangers or do I not count? I guess all I’ve done doesn’t matter.” You stood up. “I’ve been there for so long but I suppose I’m invisible to the one person I considered my best friend. What the hell was I thinking? I’m invisible to everyone else, what made me think that I would have a friend!” at that, you weren’t able to stand in the room with him. You packed up your things, grabbed your bag and left.

The anger within Edward had subsided and realized what he had done. He turned towards you calling your name but you already stormed out the room with tears rimmed around your eyes.

.~.~.~.

Work was impossible. The tension always arose when the both of you were in the same room. You didn’t speak to each other unless needed. You stopped talking to Edward because of obvious reasons, still angry, hurt, and utterly confused. Edward stopped talking to you because he didn’t know what to say, he was ashamed and was afraid to make this problem even worse. Edward knew he couldn’t leave it like this, he’ll have to take it slow.

It was around your lunch break and you got ready to leave to go to a small deli that was only a few blocks away. As you walked to the exit of the police department, Edward had tapped you on the shoulder. You turned around to see who it was only to have a slight frown appear on your face. “Hello Y/N. I was wondering if I can accompany you to your lunch break today.” he had a small smile on his face but on the inside, he was a bit terrified. What if she snaps at me? Then I would have made this even worse.

You were surprised by his request. You missed hanging out with Edward but at the same time, you needed space. “Um… That sounds nice and all but I prefer you not… I’m getting together with a friend today.” You lied. You looked up at him waiting to see how he would react.

“Oh, yes, well um, have a nice lunch then.” another smile came across his lips and then turned to leave. Did I really hurt her that bad? There’s no one else she hangs out with. He thought.

Maybe I should let him come along, you thought. No,  I need to think everything over. You then left for your lunch break.

.~.~.~.

A week went by as you and Edward being 'friends’ was on hold. You had a date tonight, an actual real date. This whole friendship issue with Edward made you realize that you have no one else you could really talk to and spend time with, well, besides your mom. This made you want to speak out more and be visible so everyone can see who you are and that you were here. Your self-esteem was raised a bit. Because of this, you found yourself a date that night with a fellow officer at work. You decided to wear a fitting maroon short-sleeved velvet dress that was sitting in your closet collecting dust, forest green tights and a pair of black leather boots, honestly, you weren’t going to put up with heels. You actually tried to look attractive for tonight, your hair was simply down with light makeup. You weren’t going to wear your glasses but instead, put on some contacts.

You stood by one of the many desks that occupied the space of the department waiting for your date. Another tap on your shoulder was present to reveal Edward. He had much confidence and his smile was showing it. He was stunned when he took a good look at you. You never dressed this way before, your new look stopped Edward in his tracks. It made him forget why he was there for. “Oh, uh, Y/N, you look… Pretty.” Stupid! She looks beautiful!

“Um, thank you.” there was a moment of awkward silence that was then broken by Edward remembering what he came for.

“I would like to apologize for my rude and uncalled behavior the other day and would like to become friends once more.” Another smile climbed up to form on his lips. You were taken aback at what he said. An arm was snaked around your waist, the smile Edward had left looking down to see the arm and the person who it belonged to. It was just officer John.

“You ready to go?” John asked not noticing Edward. You gave a small yet awkward smile to him.

“Yes, I was just talking to my coworker about something in the lab.” you raised your arm to address Edward. “This should only take a minute.” you looked down with a slight blush creeping on your face.

“Alright, I’ll pull the car out front then.”

“I’ll follow after.” he then left leaving you and Edward in awkwardness once again.

“Who was that?”

“That is John Hamilton, he’s, um, taking me out,” you said in a shy demeanor. You looked down at the ground once again, holding onto the coat that you had in your arms.

“As in a date? No, that’s impossible, you don’t date, and even if you did it wouldn’t be imbeciles like him,” he said in a matter-of-fact manner.

“He’s not an imbecile, we’ve talked and he’s proven to be much smarter then he lets on. And besides what knowledge do you have about me and the type of men I date.” you defended. Who gave him the right to judge who I date? You felt insulted as if he thought your choice was stupid. “And it’s sweet of you to apologize but as for us being friends, I don’t think we should. I just need to think over our friendship and everything else. I just…” you said. Its true, you did need to think things over. You wanted to know if your whole friendship was one-sided, if all you ever done was give but not receive. “I need to go, John’s waiting for me.” you left not wanting to continue this discussion.

“But…” Edward said, stunned at the results not going as he thought. You were supposed to accept his apology and go back to being his friend. What was he suppose to do now? If this was actually happening then he just lost the only true friend he had.

Edward roamed around, lost in thought until he noticed a weary man. Edward felt as if this detective lived up to the expectations of his badge, keeping the people of Gotham safe and righting the wrongdoings within the city. Edward walked toward the detective, his back facing him. He gathered up his things, ready to leave hard work and crime for another day. “Good evening Detective Gordon.” Edward greeted. Jim was startled by the sudden voice and the close proximity.

“Oh, hey Ed.” He responded.

“May I ask you a question. Well, actually two depending on how you answer the first question, which I assume you’ll answer it the way I predict it, which then leads to the second question.” Edward never understood why people get annoyed with technicalities. They help.

“Ed, is this a riddle? Because if it is then I can’t answer it, I have somewhere to be.”

“On the contrary, It’s actually a question that I would want to know the answer instead of it being for my amusement.”

“Alright well, what is it?” Jim asked.

“Are you familiar with relationships with the opposite sex?”

“…Yes.” Jim had to think about it. Of course, he had girlfriends before but he wouldn’t consider himself an expert on relationships. Maybe Harvey is. When cows fly.

“Well let’s say that you hurt your friend’s feelings, who is a girl, what would you do?” Edward asked.

“Apologize.” is that not obvious, Jim thought.

“Of course, but what if you already did that and she says that she likes to think of the relationship. What then?”

Jim thought for a moment. “Ed, I’m just going to assume that you just apologized and thought she would accept it. If it were me, I’d buy her flowers… Tell her that it pains me to see her hurt, that it kills me that I’m the one who’s causing her misery, that I do whatever I can to see her smile and be happy again.” Even though Jim is in a new relationship, he couldn’t help but think of the things he’d do for Barbra. He worried, yes, but she’s a grown woman that can make her own choices and he wouldn’t interfere with her independence.

“Wow. That’s actually better than whatever I was going to do. I’ll take up on your advice. If you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be. Until tomorrow Detective Gordon.” Edward then turned around rushing towards the doors of the department. While that happened Jim wondered what friend Edward was referring to the whole time. A mystery to solve some other day.

.~.~.~.~.

You arrived at your apartment right after your dinner with John, back against the dark wooden barrier that separates you from the harsh society that is Gotham. You were hoping throughout the date that you and John would be spewing facts to each other, releasing the endless knowledge within your head, instead, he only talked about common things that you didn’t care to acknowledge like sports. The conversations led you to feeling bored and tired, wanting to fall on your comfortable bed.

Ed loves to give out wonderful information about anything and everything. Ugh, I’m thinking about him again.

You were then startled by a knocking behind your back. You opened the door revealing the devil himself holding your favorite flowers. Those are probably for Kristen. I wonder if he’ll ever learn, you thought. “Hello Y/N, I was hoping that maybe you’ll let me discuss something with you,” Edward said.

“…I suppose.” You open the door wider to let him in. He entered sticking his arm out when you faced him.

“These are for you.” In shock, you took the flowers, the sweet smell finding its way to reach the sensors in your nose, giving you a peaceful feeling. There’s another thing about (F/F), not only are they pretty but the smell is majestic, always releasing the tension you have within yourself. “I wanted to come to give you a proper, real apology. An apology that does not require you to forgive at all but for the fact that you deserve one. So please, let me say what I need to say.” You stood there holding the flowers.

“All my life you were there through my worst and best times. You made me feel like I was somebody, not some worthless waste of space like they said I was. You were my support and while I was driving around to find an open flower shop, I looked over our friendship as well and I now can understand why you wouldn’t want to be friends with me because I wouldn’t either.” He said, walking towards you, staring within your eyes.

“All you ever done is support, respect, appreciate, and help me like a true friend while all I did was take and I can’t believe I had to lose you to actually see what I lost, a remarkable, smart, beautiful friend that I’ve taken for granted for so many years while all you’ve done was be my saving grace, an angel sent to me. You don’t need to forgive me but I just want you to know how terrible I feel about all of this. I shouldn’t have said what wasn’t true. You are my friend and probably the only person I’ll ever need.” Edward had his hands on your upper arms, his delicate touch caressing your flesh. This is exactly what you needed from him, to be sincere instead of being so professional about things. To actually realize his faults instead of saying a sorry and think that it’ll automatically make up for it. He’s done it to a bunch of people.

“I wear clothes of the brightest of colors and bells ring on my every step. You laugh at me, I laugh at you. Tell me, what am I?”

“A fool.” You answered.

“I’m sorry.” Edward finally said, his hands sliding down toward yours. You felt a wave of happiness and release crash down on you but shock hit you when he kissed you on the cheek, lips lingering for a moment before pulling back. For you two, you guys never done intimate things like some boy-girl friendships do. You found yourself trapping him in a tight hug, head buried in his chest. Stunned at first, Edward wrapped his arms around you, nose deep in your hair with a smile on his face.

“Thank you. That’s all I needed.” You looked up at him with a smile on your face.

“Earlier this evening, when I gave you that poor apology, I meant to say beautiful…but you always do look beautiful.” You blushed at this, ducking your head so Edward wouldn’t see. You picked your head back up to see Edward staring at you with a smile on his face, your faces to close for comfort. You couldn’t help but look at his lips, and he looks at yours. You could feel his breath on your lips, the tips of your noses touching slightly. Then there was the feeling, hearts pounding, mind cloudy, and stomachs filled with butterflies when your lips touched each others. You kissed a boy once for a slight second but that was for complete ridicule and embarrassment on your side, and that was years ago. Edward never kissed a girl but he was glad it’s with his best friend, well, now crush, now that he thinks about it.

Your hands found his, intertwining your fingers, turning your head to the side, making the kiss a whole lot better for the both of you, lip locking until air was needed. When the kiss broke off, the both of you looked dazed at each other. Edwards’ eyes went wide. “Oh dear Y/N, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that you’re dating officer Hamilton and he will not be pleased when he finds out…” Edward kept blabbering on.

“Ed, Ed, it’s fine. I’m not his girlfriend. It was only one date and he wasn’t really what I expected him to be.” You said being honest.

“What did you expect him to be?” He asked, his hands still holding yours.

“Well, He’s not that smart for starters. He bored me with conversations about sports and those sort of things. To be honest, I actually… thought about you, it was actually bringing my mood down with how we left things.”

Being the boy scout Edward is, he put a hand to his heart and raised his other and said: “Then I will make sure, with all of my power, to never let that happen ever again.” A smile came to your face with Edward being sweet and adorable. “Wait…just one question. Does this mean we’re in a non-platonic relationship and in an intimate relationship? You know, because we kissed and all…” Edward looked down trying to hide his face from the rejection that was to come.

“Well, it depends…do you want it to be?” you whispered the last part, face heating up.

“Oh, uh, well I don’t want to force you into anything but… I would really enjoy being in that sort of relationship with you.” He answered.

“What about Ms. Kringle?”

“I realized that I shouldn’t waste my time on someone who won’t return the feelings.” He said smiling at you. He grabbed your hand and asked “So…I’m allowed to this.” referring to the clasped hands. You smiled, happy at what had just happened.

“Haha, yes, you’re allowed.” You looked up at him and decided to give him a kiss on the cheek, having to stand on your toes slightly.

“Since you already had dinner, how about I take you out tomorrow after work?”

“Definitely,” you answered.

“Great! I have to get home, I don’t want to arrive at the lab all tired.” he kissed your cheek and headed for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N.” Edward then left, leaving you with full of content.