#(apparently one of my closest friends lurked for about a year Before we became friends)

[void-tiger]

I’m learning that my interpersonal jealousy isn’t so much exclusivity and wanting to hoard someone else like a dragon—it never has been. And I’ve been on the receiving end of that many, many times, some of which has been actively malicious versus just the other person’s insecurity.

It’s moreso a cry of “what about me? Me too! This isn’t fair! Why not me?” And keeping that in-check when the other person isn’t that connected to me yet. Tell the inner insecurity gremlin to chill. Wait. Address that later if there is a later.

Because…actually I like it when someone else has their own life. Hopefully that’d also mean they wouldn’t begrudge me for having mine. Actually that’s what I find interesting and attractive about people, so I’d never want to stifle that.

…I just don’t want to be forgotten. I want to feel secure that the feeling of wanting to connect is mutual.

And…heck. All of my friendships are quite literally long distance, and my closest ones are with people who are usernames shortened to nicknames since they’re internet friendships. Some I chat with daily. Some it’s closer to once a week or once a month or longer—but that’s all fine because I feel secure with where I stand with them. We’ve reached a stable equilibrium. I respect their introvert needs to recharge, and they tolerate my more extroverted need to word splatter and have a back&forth conversation.

Because—at least for me—that’s what jealousy is: it’s an intense awareness of want/need and lack of equilibrium and security. It will go away if those needs are met if a relationship continues to form.

[profoundtyrantharmony]

Title : That’s How I Feel

Warning : None. Italics means flashback. Y/f/c => your favorite color. Y/f/sc => your favorite summer clothe.

Words : around 2260

Painting : Loki x Black!Chubby!Reader

Requested by @rootbeergoddess “Can you write a story where a chubby, brown skinned reader is dating Loki and Loki decides to spoil her one day by taking her to the mall and buying her everything she wants?”

My name is y/f/n y/l/n, I’m a young adult living in 21th century. You wonder why I would say that ? Simple. I’m a woman, black and chubby, and apparently in this era this is a huge problem. I didn’t do anything wrong, I mean yeah I love good food and I’m not overly fond of any kind of sport but is this really enough of a reason to basically bully me everyday. Let me answer this basic question : HELL NO !!! I’m pissed of all this bad comments about my appearance, what I should do to lose weight, to eat healthier… I can’t stand the fact that we are being judge (yes because of course I’m far from being the only one) based on our looks rather than our sharpe mind. I know my worth, and I am far more worthy than all of these piece of…garbage…those wanabe decent human. Right now I seem like I am incredibly confident but I’m not. I’m alone in my room talking to myself in my head because I am not capable of doing it in front of my bullies !! You wanna know what happened for me to be alone instead of happilly working ? Let me tell you a story…

I live in a cute two bedrooms appartment not far from the Avengers quarter (I’d say 20 minutes on foot). It’s a charming place, the neighbors are the nicest and most of all not judgmental. I live alone but sometimes my boyfriend come to spend the night at my house, those are the best night that could happen. But today I woke up alone in my king size bed, unfortunatelly for me he had an important meeting early this morning so he had to go early. His name is Loki of Asgard heir to the crown of Jotunheim, adoptive son of Odin, brother of Thor and most importantly the Holder of my heart. It’s been 4-5 months that we are actually together but we’ve known each other for about one year. We met at the Avengers compound where I worked as an assistant for Pepper Potts before I became the analyst that I am today, but that’s a story for another time. As I was saying I woke up alone this morning, it was 8:30 am. I’m not due to work until 10:00 am. I decided to take my breakfast while mentally visualise what I will do to work, whilst thinking about how to avoid my mescreants of co-workers (you read it right co-workers not collegues, I’m not appreciate enough to call them that, I only consider Bonnie a collegue, she’s the closest thing I have to a friend at work. ). Once my coffe and my toasts spread with honey were eaten I went to to the bathroom to prepare myself. The most difficult part for me is to chose what I am going to wear if I don’t want any comments. The purpose is to clearly become invisible, like a shadow lurking in the corner of the room. I don’t want to wear a cute dress, a fluffy skirt or a top with some lacework on it cause i will 100% receive insults, mockery, and I just don’t have the strengh anymore, it already happened before it will happened again I can’t do anything to stop it. I already try when I was younger and guess what “it’s just words don’t listen to them”, thanks a lot I feel better now ! I finally decided on a simple dark tight blue jeans and a white shirt with an afro motif on it (just like me). I put some liner and mascara and I was ready to face my personal hell. I went to work on foot, it was sunny with a bit of fresh wind, perfect for 20 minutes of walk. I arrived at exactly 9:50 am, and went to my desk to begin with my daily task. It took time and mental energy cause i’m a bit perfectionnist. My boss knows of that fact and are still satisfied with me because my work is ALWAYS perfect and NEVER need rework, the fact that I won the award of the best employee last year and this year too is something that didn’t escape me. That’s why I went to the communal area to get some tea and a chocolate and pistachio cookie, I really needed it. Just before I arrived I heard my name being said, and clearly not in a friendly way. I stayed hidden in the corridor to listen to what was being said. I recognised the voice of five persons (three men and two women, all agents of shield), they were talking about how fat I am, how ugly I am, how my clothes are too tight and not meant for me. But if it was only about my body it would be just like usual, nothing to worry about, but they were talking about my personnality (low confidence, shy, discret) and about Loki, and that, I couldn’t stand it ! How dare they insult him after all he has done for humanity, for shield, for them, only to be treated as a lesser man, it’s absolutelly despicable. Understanding that whatever I could do I will never be enough for them made me sad and angry at myself. I didn’t wanna eat anymore and decided to quit work for the day (don’t worry I informed Pepper) and get back home and stay alone in my bedroom, laying on my dark green new bedsheets.

I stay alone like this for quite some time until I hear the familiar voice of my tender one.

“I came as fast as I could, Pepper warned me you left work early what happened ?” He seems so worried, I don’t want him to see me as a weak little human even if I know that he doesn’t see me like that at all.

“Don’t worry it’s nothing. Lets talk about something else, how was the meeting ?” He was looking at me as if he could read me, maybe he can, he is too cute, look at his face, his eyes, his…sad smile ? What happen to him ? “Why the sad face Loki ?”

“I’m not sad, I know what you’re going through on a personnal level trust me, plus there is no such thing as secrecy when you work with and for the Avengers and shield. I know what those pathetic little things called humans have said about you, your collegue Bonnie was close to the area when she heard them, she called them on their bullshit (has been insulted short after) and came to Pepper who then came to me right after.” He come to sit beside me, his face coming closer to mine, his hands taking my face in his, our forehead touches, our eyes getting close, we breath each other’s in, it was so calm and tender. “The things you make me feel princess, I don’t think you understand the power you have over me that’s insane !” His smile when he said this makes my tears almost came free. We kissed each other slowly with a lot of passion until we stop to breath.

“I just don’t understand why they are so mean with me, yes I’m black but I can’t change that, yes I’m chubby but i’m don’t have cardiac problems, cholesterol issues or diabete, I walk everyday to go to work, I’m as healthy as I can be and those buffons can go to hell because I’m so freaking smart that they can’t understand how wonderful I am !!”

“You have a lot of confidence in you princess so why don’t you use it at work ?”

“You mean why I do not take the lead ? You mean taking the lead the same way I take it last time we were together in bed ?” I was trying so hard to change the topic of conversation but that was vain.

“Hmm you’re being a naughty girl don’t play this game right now I’m being serious.”

“You’re no fun !! Well, when I’m with you I feel respected, love. I trust you the way i never have thought I could. You never judge me and you make me feel whole, you’re the first person I see myself with for the long term, you’re the one for me and I hope you will love me for the rest of our time.” Tears were flowing from his eyes, he takes me in his arms and kisses me for all his worth. The moans that come out of my mouth was like a fuel to him, he could never stop loving me. “Come with me princess, we’re going shopping !”

The road to the mall was short cause we live close by and we took the car. It was still pretty early in the afternoon, maybe 3:00 pm si we had all the time we wanted, we were not in a hurry. When he parked the car I still didn’t know why we came here.

“Why did we came here Loki ?” I asked him.

“I have some items to purchase Princess.” He says with with a smile that could bright the entire universe.

“How many items do you have to purchase?” He smirked at me, and calmly told me :

“A healthy amount”.

We entered the mall, I didn’t know what to look for, it’s been so many time i didn’t come here, work kept me grounded in a way. I always asked one of my neighbors to do my shopping in exchange of some petsitting (when hollidays comes, familly week-end…it’s better than abandonment if you ask me). There were so many things I’d like to buy but I didn’t do it. Loki was leading to the litterature corner of the mall, I remembered that my favorite author just published a book days ago but didn’t purchase it. Without a word, he took the book and paid for it, I know he loves reading maybe he is a y/f/a’s fan. We looked at each other, smiling.

“Where do you want to go now ?

"I heard about the new summer collection, I’d like to go and check it out of that’s okay with you princess.” How could I ever refuse this face. He took my hand in his and lead me to the summer clothes sections. There were to many wonderful skirts, dresses I couldn'tstop looking at them…but would I ever be worthy of wearing them…

“Princess what do you think about this gorgeous y/f/c y/f/sc ? I think it will compliment your figure and make your pop more.”

“Why would you wanna buy it ? That’s not exactly what you would wear my sweet.”

“It’s not for me” he said laughing, “That’s for you !”

“…But why ?” I was shocked.

“Why would I want to spoiled the best thing that ever happened to me you mean ? Because I can and most importantly I want to do it. I want you to see yourself as I see you. I want you to feel self confident enough to allowed yourself to wear whatever you want without feeling self concious. And above all I want to please you as the Princess tou deserve. So I’m asking you, will you let me buy you books, clothes, make up, knits…”

“How do you know about the knits ?” I asked interumpting him.

“It doesn’t matter, I know that you knit some tiny socks and caps for orphans babies, that you don’t tell to anyone cause you don’t brag about the good thing you do because that’s not who you are and I love you all the more for it. You take so much care about people you don’t even know but never about you. I’m here to change it I’m here to take care of you the way you won’t do.”

“Loki…I..I..Thanks you”. I was crying my soul out. It wasn’t from sadness but from hapiness, i couldn’t describe the amount of love I felt for him this right moment. We hugged each other, the time stopped around us and we were floating like two leaves dancing with the wind.

“Lets go eat something, I saw a french backery at the other end of the mall.”

“Good idea, I didn’t eat since breakfast so I’m a little bit starving.” I happilly answered.

“There is a lot of choices princess, croissant, paint au chocolat, chicolate chips cookie…a millefeuille…” he was undecided.

“Why not take the four and split, this way de could taste and eat a bit of everything.” I told him, secretly hopping he’d say yes, cause, lets be honnest here, french food was literally my péché mignon (*cute sin/guilty pleasure*). He was more than happy with this idea, and more than happy to share his food with me. We talked a lot, purchase many other items, especially a bouquet of several flowers ( bouton d'or for joy ; white camellias for the eternal love ; fuchsias for unbreakable love ; gardenias for honesty ; lavender for respect and tenderness, last flowers but not the least the white roses for pure love). I was so overwelmed with joy that I couldn’t contain my tears.

“What did I do to deserve all this Loki ?” I asked crying.

“There is no reason really…” he looked me in the eyes and I saw all the love pouring into them as he continued “…that’s how I feel.”

*This is the end of my first fic, hope you liked it, remember, english is not my mother tongue so there might be some mistakes.*

*If you want to request check out here*

*Likes, Comments and Reblogs are also appreciated*

[matryosika]

shoot me, chapter III

pairing — changbin x reader

rating — 18+

genre of the overall series — smut, angst, fluff if you squint

prologue chapter I chapter II chapter III

word count for this chapter — 3.7 k

warnings — suggestive, slight jisung x reader, mentions of alcohol, possessive and jealous changbin, choking and sexual tension.

note — i have been pretty ia lately because i'm full of school work to do. my semester is coming to an end, so i must turn in final projects and take my final tests too. i'm normally much active than i have been on this account, i promise to get back to you as soon as school ends for me. this chapter has just sexual tension but not smut smut and it's shorter than the rest but i needed to divide the chapter because it became way too long. smut promised for next one that i will be uploading this weekend (hopefully!)

taglist: @cozyblues @ahgasearmyfan @binnie-m00n

*

[12:17 a.m. Changbin]

i don't think we should to that again

it was a mistake

you looked at your phone at a extreme state of confusion. he had left your place minutes ago and, after an amazing session of oral sex, a lovely dinner and a extremely bearable (maybe even good) late-night talk, the walk to his car was all it took for him to develop a guilt complex?

[12:17 a.m. Changbin]

i just needed to vent but honestly, getting with you can really damage my future and that's not something i'm willing to jeopardize for sex.

you read his messages over and over again. it was the "i just needed to vent" that got backlash from you... did he really just came to your place only to ease his sexual frustrations?

you were still siting in the living room, hugging your knees to your chest. you hadn't lose self control once but twice, and not to mention it was with a man whose only purpose all along was to use you to feel better about himself.

"you really touched bottom this time" you whispered to yourself, feeling the need to take a second shower in order to rinse away all the traces from his touches and kisses on your skin.

maybe it wasn't really the guilt that bothered you. maybe it was the fact that, tonight, was probably the best night you've ever had for a while. he took well care of you, after finishing he cleaned you up and carried you to your room so you could take a shower and change your clothes.

he patiently waited for you while sitting at the edge of your bed and, when you were done showering, some delicious food he ordered was already expecting both of you at the dinning room of the house. during dinner, you told him a little bit about your life in japan and shared some childhood memories with him.

things were good, maybe too good for your own liking, but it only took a couple of minutes for changbin to remind you who he truly was.

not only that, but you also wouldn't admit the fact that you had a great time with him.

*

you spent the rest of the week calmly, having to hang out with changbin more times than you actually wanted to. he would often act like a gentleman in front of his parents and arthur, trying to engage in coversations with you often, asking you about your major and your adolescence in japan. you thought that he was just doing that in an attempt to hide the awkwardness of the air every time you had to spend time with him at arthur's company, but that didn't completely eased the fact that you felt your blood boil every time you had to be near him.

*

"you are coming, right?" ryujin cried from the other side of the phone "you told me you wanted to come!"

fuck, chan's party was this weekend.

"uhhhh" you mumbled "ryujin i don't feel good"

"y/n!" she screamed "is it because of changbin? baby? i have known you since pre-school, are you really feeling bad over a man you met barely 2 weeks ago?"

ryujin was right. you hated men, you truly did. and you were too proud about the fact that you had never cried over one, let alone have your heart broken by any of them. and it wasn't changbin you were sad about but the fact that he used you, you let him and then tried to act like nothing ever happened between both of you, which was even more humilliating. it always seemed like you had everything controlled but this time he was the one who got the last word and that was something you just couldn't accept.

"besides" ryujin added without leaving time for you to talk "i don't even think he is coming, chan said that he invited more people outside his friend group because some of them were not going to make it tonight, maybe he is one of them"

"maybe" you said "but i'm not willing to take a risk on that, ryujin"

you couldn't see her, but you could clearly picture how she was pouting at that exact moment. "y/n, you will eventually go back to japan and we will not be able to hang out anymore. is that what you want? do you want to reject your best friend on a saturday night? plus! the last time i took you to itaewon you had a great time!"

"speak for yourself ryujin" you mutered

"PLEASE" she screamed, making you squirm in your place "i promise that i will be by your side the whole time, i won't get distracted by the gorgeous, precious, well-built, amazing...."

"alright" you interrupted her "i know you are lying but i want to believe you for once"

she did a little scream of victory on the other side of the line and proceeded to set an hour to pick you up, almost against your will.

*

"what's the special occasion?" you asked ryujin as she went through all your clothes that were now laying around your bedroom floor, trying to find the perfect outfit for chan's party because you were dressed too casual, apparently.

"today it's the birthday of one of his closest friends" she said, almost in a hurry "and we are now running late because of your choice of clothes"

"i didn't knew there was a dresscode" you said, sitting at the edge of your bed.

"oh no, there isn't" she responded, now lurking around your suitcase and bags "but you need to let know changbin what he is missing out"

you rolled your eyes and grunted, of course. ryujin was that type of friend who would hype you up while you wear a killer outfit just to piss off a man.

"FINALLY" she screamed, finding the black dress that you stole from changbin at coex "i knew you had something around"

with hesitant eyes you looked at her handing you the dress, not sure if this easy outfit, like changbin said, would fit the occasion. "go on, it's almost 9 p.m."

*

by the bar incident you learned that chan, changbin and the whole friend group were a bunch of privileged men, but you didn't quite understand how privileged they were until you found yourself outside chan's house. the architecture looked excentric but expensive, at the same time. it was located in a pretty nice neighbourhood and was specially afar from the rest of the houses as if the most important value around was privacy.

you looked at ryujin and she seemed nervous. understandable. she came from a decent household but this right here just looked like the mansion of a western celebrity.

"are you alright?" you asked her, closing the door of her car before walking towards the stairs that lead you to the front door.

"this is the first time i'll get to meet chan's friends" she responded, making a grimace as she retracted "well, the second time, but i can barely remember the night at the bar"

"right"

right before she could continue talking, the front door opened and chan greeted you both. "ladies"

you bowed down to chan and ryujin immediately jumped into his arms, receiving a kiss in her cheek by the man himself "could you not?" you joked, watching chan's face turning bright red by the unexpected and euphoric physical contact.

"i missed him!" ryujin defended herself, locking her arms behind his neck.

"come in, y/n" he said, opening the door wider so you and ryujin could come in.

"who's the birthday boy?" you asked, your eyes scanning the insides of the house looking for any sign of changbin.

"it's jeongin's birthday" he said, proudly smiling like the father of an 8-year-old son "he's right there, at the couch. maybe you recall him from the bar"

you saw his face and immediatly remembered him. "yeah, the guy who just couldn't stop laughing"

"that's the one" chan said, standing right besides ryujin "let's go, let me introduce you to them"

*

the next hour was spent peacefully and you were almost thankful that ryujin begged you to come. jeongin, the birthday boy, was already drunk by 10:00 p.m. and kept making bad jokes that cracked everyone up. ryujin left with chan to god-knows-where and you were stucked with jisung and hyunjin at the living room, drinking ocasionally and having a good time.

"i remember you from the bar" jisung mumbled, getting closer to your ear as the music was already too loud. "i wanted to chat with you, but you disappeared quickly"

his breath smelled like cherries and alcohol as he was too close to you, but you couldn't complain. it was almost intoxicating in the best way possible.

"yeah i was not having a good time"

he smiled proudly "i'm sure i could have made it better"

a sarcastic chuckled escaped your lips as he placed a hand on his chest "you don't believe me?"

"i don't believe any man for that matter" you replied almost in a flirty way, not that you wanted to tho but the alcohol was already making you feel a tad extroverted.

"but i'm not any man" jisung whispered on your ear, making you feel goosebumps over the entirety of your body. before you could even say something back, he grabbed you by the hand and took you outside of the living room and into the patio, where a lot of people were gathered drinking and dancing.

"oh, i'm not good at dancing" you tried to escape, jisung holding you by one of your hands.

"you don't have to be good at dancing to enjoy it" he pouted, still convincing you to join him at the improvised dance floor that people made right at the center of the courtyard "c'mon y/n"

you were not too fond of dancing, but the music that was playing and jisung's insistence made you accept the offer. with small jumps of excitement he drove you to the crowd of people and started to move around you like a fool, inspiring you confidence to losen up a bit.

"i'm not used to this" you admit, moving your body to the sound of "criminal" by taemin, one of your favorite songs ever.

"there's always a first time for everything" he mumbled, his face dangerously close to yours "here"

his hands traveled to your waist and he held you closer to his body, feeling his soft and warm sking against the naked parts of your. "just let your body move with the music, it's not hard"

jisung's presence was extremely intoxicated and captivating, but not enough to keep you from notice changbin entering to courtyard.

and he wasn't alone.

your whole body tensed and you could feel how jisung stepped back a little bit. "did i do something wrong?"

you parted your gaze from changbin as soon as he saw your body pressed against him, and you gave a faint smile to jisung.

"no, i just felt shy for a moment"

he gave you a wide smile and continue to hold you even closer, your hips moving involuntary against his pelvic area and his eyes firmly fixed into you. "god, you are so precious"

"am i?" you asked, tilting your head to the side while dancing.

you could feel changbin's gazed nailed into your body and that was making you do stupid things. you wanted to make him feel jealous, for some reason, but using a man you just met wasn't something that would fit in your principles.

"mhm" he hummed, the movements of both of you getting slower as the song progressed. jisung's lips brushed softly against yours pratically begging for a kiss, but you knew that it was way too early for that.

you turned around on your place, your back now pressed to his chest, as you continued to dance against his body. his hands were glued to your waist and ocasionally would visit your hips, moving at the same rythm as you did. a different song was playing right now, but you didn't even noticed as your mind was flooded with thoughts. who was changbin with? was she his girlfriend? was he still there watching you? were you dancing with jisung just to piss him off? and most importantly, why did you feel the need to make him jealous in the first place?

before the trail of thoughts continued on your head, jisung's hand traveled from the tip of your fingers to your left shoulder, his fine digits dancing around your naked clavicles. "did i tell you that this dress looks amazing on you?"

his voice, the trace of his fingers and his scent made you act completely dumb around him, it was almost painful to watch. with a swift movement, you were now facing him again and kept on moving slowly. "i don't think so"

"well" he said, leaning one more time to leave a faint kiss on your lips "you look amazing on that dress"

and without expecting an answer from you, he kissed you.

his lips tasted exactly the same as his scent. the mixture of cherries, strawberries and alcohol intoxicated your five senses, making you unable to think about what you were doing. the kiss was everything except rushed, as if he was taking his time to taste every single inch of your lips and tongue. his hands were resting on your waist and lower back and the song that was now playing just fit the whole mood the both of you created, right until...

"do you mind?" a man's voice asked while you felt a grip on your forearm.

"give me a break man" jisung said, interrupting the kiss. it was no other than changbin, standing right in the middle of you and jisung.

"she is drunk" changbin said, almost in a threatening tone.

"i am not" you responded, trying to get out of changbin's grip.

"we are in the middle of something here" jisung insisted, trying to get between you and the grip changbin had on your arm.

"i'm not in the mood for a chat, han" his voice turned ten times deeper and his body language reminded you of that night at itaewon "i'm taking her home because he drank too much"

"let go off of me"

but he did not let go of you and continued dragging you across the whole courtyard and into the living room. "aren't you supposed to be with your girlfriend?"

you started to curse him openly, but he wouldn't slow down his pace. he took you out of the house and into his car without even saying a word.

"you are acting as if you were my owner" you grunted, looking for your phone inside of your purse "you just love to order me around, don't you?"

"that didn't seem to upset you at the bar and your house" he scoffed, his voice going completely cold as ice.

"you bringing that topic now is just miserable" you laughed as he started the car "i was about to enjoy a good night of fucking, something i never got to do with you because you are a coward"

changbin's jaw tensed up and you could feel how the car started to go faster.

the adrenaline of changbin's jealousy, the alcohol, jisung's taste and the speed of the car were making you feel particularly bold tonight, something you knew you would regret the morning after.

"why do you tense up?" you asked, teasing him "i know you wanted to fuck me so bad but still decided to not jeopardize your future for a night of sex"

you were not completely sure, but it was kind of obvious that changbin wasn't driving to your house. you tried to catch a glimpse of the street names as if that was going to be helpful to a foreigner, but it was too dark outside.

"you are not going to talk now?" you asked him, taking off your high-heels as your whole body rested on the car seat. "you were so bold a few minutes ago, trying to act like a fucking man intimidating jisung at chan's house. two nights of oral sex and i have that much of a grip on you, changbin?"

he wouldn't respond, and that only made your blood boil even more.

"you are so fucking pathetic" you muttered, looking directly at him as his gaze was completely fixed on the road.

the car took a sudden turn and parked right in front of a complex of apartments. without hesitation, he got out and opened the door for you, carrying you into his shoulder inside the elevator of the lobby.

the scene was pretty much awkward as you faced yourself into the elevator mirror. your hair was completely messed up and your lipstick was a bit smudged but other than that, you looked completely sober. not only that, but he knew that you weren't drunk. he just made that excuse.

the doors of the elevators opened on the 12th floor and you were glad that no one was waiting for it outside, otherwise they would've seen your ass on changbin's shoulder.

"you know i'm not drunk, right?" you said, still resting on his shoulders while he took his keys from the pocket of his black pants

"just shut the fuck up for a moment" he said, carrying you and leaving you standing inside of his apartment as he turned all the lights inside on.

"i knew your behavior as a gentleman was a fucking act and you only did that in front of your parents and arthur"

"you are so annoying" changbin whispered as he walked towards the black leather couch in the middle of the living room of his apartment. you followed him and walked right behind him.

"i don't have anything to do here, changbin" you mumbled, his back turned against you. you wanted to tease him, you needed to. for an unknown reason, you felt the sudden urge to make him mad, to make him explode. you needed things to escalate quickly so he would give you another reason for you to hate him even more "i can't believe i should be fucking with jisung right now but instead i'm-"

before you could finish that sentence, you felt changbin's grip on both sides of your neck "go on, keep on talking"

the lack of oxygen, the sudden movement of changbin against your body and his gaze flooded with anger made your legs tremeble "keep on fucking talking"

you could barely swallow by how hard his right hand was grasping onto your neck "look at you" you whispered with broken words, smirking as your eyes unconciously closed because of the pleasure "are you jealous, changbin?"

"why don't you answer the question, y/n?" he asked, his hold on your neck becoming softer as his lips approached your right ear "how did you felt when you saw me with that girl earlier today?"

an ironic laugh left your lips, trying to shield yourself from the obvious thing. "i don't know what game you are playing, changbin, but i didn't felt shit"

"really?" he hummed, his raspy voice near your ear made you squeeze your thighs together unconciously, and even though his hand was merely just resting on your neck, the arousal you felt from his grip was still there. "i know you saw me with her, and i could tell how that made you dance for jisung more... enthusiastically"

"you are wrong" you replied, pushing him slightly away "and pathetic, getting jealous when you were the one who cutted things off since the beginning"

"he is an asshole" changbin said with a mocking and sarcastic tone, his fingers tracing the naked skin of your arms as he licked his lips "and i must protect you, like arthur said. isn't that right?"

"he is a good kisser" you answered "i bet he fucks better than you too, not that i would know though because i never got to fuck with you"

changbin's eyes drifted from your skin to your eyes in a matter of miliseconds and for the first time in the evening you regretted saying something. "you are just begging for me to fuck you, aren't you?"

"don't get confused" you spitted "i don't want to have anything to do with you"

his hand traveled slowly to the end of your dress, lifting it up and reaching for your, now soaking, panties. his digits traced your slit and you swallowed hard in anticipation for whatever humiliating thing he was about to say. "are you sure?"

he removed his fingers from your core and were now glistening thanks to the light coming from the window of his apartment. "look at me and tell me that you don't want me to fuck you"

"look at me and tell me that you didn't felt jealous when you saw me with jisung" yo fired back, a faint smirk appearing on his face.

"i did" he admitted "i can't even begin to explain how mad i felt at the sight of your precious body pressing against his. all i wanted to do at that exact moment was to fuck you right in front of everybody, including him"

his hands toured to your back, unzipping the dress you were wearing as he looked directly into your eyes trying to decode if you actually wanted this or not.

"i know what i said last week" changbin mumbled, his fingers helping you to drag the straps on your dress all the way to your wrists "but your existence is fucking me up"

your heart started to beat even faster, your breath accelerated "and it wasn't until i saw you with someone else where i realized that i needed to make you completely mine, even just once"

you soon found yourself in your underwear right in front of him, his eyes looking at you up and down several times making you feel intimidated. you had two options: loose your self-control for the third time and do something that you truly wanted to, or leave his apartment feeling proud.

but you already made that choice when you didn't fought back enough to stop him from driving you to his place.

"please ruin me" you whispered, your soul immersed in arousal, guilt and regret.

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Addicted to You

Part IV: Crazy on You

Summary/Author's Note: The mission starts to go off the rails as a certain someone starts to get a taste of greed. Frankie deals with the dark parts of his soul and worries how you'll react to seeing such things. (Thank you so much for your support of me and this fic. Part I became my first fic to reach 300 notes and I cannot believe it was a Frankie fic, but he deserves the love.)

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Pope's Sister!Reader Word Count: 5.3k (apparently I cannot shut up about Frankie) Warnings/Ratings: 18+ -- Stone cold murder, blood and gore, greed, language, panic attack, hurt/comfort, stress, a lot of violence--like a LOT, fucking TOM. (<<< This warning came back lmfao)

Part I * Part II * Part III

[MASTERLIST]

Frankie's hand in yours was like an anchor keeping you from giving in to the anxiety bubbling up inside your gut. They should have been wanting to leave the house, not going up another flight of stairs deeper into the mansion. The tension in the back of Frankie's shoulders was palpable and you wanted to reach out and put your hand in the middle of his back. He glanced over his shoulder at you and you tried your best to give him a reassuring smile. 

"What's going on, Tom?" Frankie asked as the two of you cleared the threshold of the office and looked around. 

Lorea's office was larger than any of the bedrooms had been. Expensive black oak bookshelves were on each wall and they matched the leather furniture and dark polished desk. The rain continued to pound against the windows and as a crack of thunder rattled the glass panels, you gripped Frankie's hand tightly. He turned and pulled you against his side as he leaned against one of the side tables. Your shoulders didn't relax however until you felt his nose against your hair, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head.

"We got nothin," Will hooked his fingers in the front of his vest. "This guy's a ghost."

"What?" Frankie looked around as Benny stormed out of the adjacent room. 

"The fuck!?" He cursed as he tossed two fistfuls of limp duffle bags on the ground. "Nothing but empty bags!"

"And Lorea? Pope?" Tom said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at your brother like a disappointed father. Everyone seemed to take a moment and look at Pope as he stared blankly at the empty bags on the ground at his feet.

"He's gone. With the money." Will shrugged.

"Your girl gave us up, Pope." Frankie said as he raised his head from your hair and looked at his friend. "We gotta get the fuck out of here."

Pope took his hat off and squeezed the bill between his hands as he looked around worriedly. "No, no, no," he shook his head and ran a hand down his face before cursing. "No, no--fuck."

"Wait--" You interrupted, moving slightly away from the shelter of Frankie's body so they could hear you. "It might be still here."

"What do you mean, baby?" Frankie asked, keeping his hand in the small of your back and raising an eyebrow in question.

"Before," you swallowed hard and glanced at Tom before looking back to your brother. "Before they put me in the spare bedroom--they were painting. So much paint. All through the night."

"What does that matter?" Tom asked curtly.

Pope's eyes widened slightly as he put his hat back on backwards and pointed at you. "Shit--" he looked back at Tom. "What does that smell like to you?" His nostrils flared and he started looking around on the floor.

"Like a serious fuck up, man," Frankie bit his lip and Benny chuckled. 

"No, she's right," Pope pointed to the wall nearest to him, and then to the cans of paint that were piled just outside the door. "It's fucking paint."

All of the men looked at the walls and took note for the first time of the crisp shine that lay on the fresh top coat. Parts of the room still looked wet to the naked eye, and rolls of painter's tape lay in various forgotten places on the floor and along the baseboards.

"The house is the safe," Tom whispered as he lowered his gun and moved away from where he was leaning on the desk. "The house is the fucking safe."

"The house is the safe," Pope nodded as a smile broke out on his face. He turned and crossed the few feet to you, putting his hands on the sides of your face and kissing you on the forehead. "You're a fucking genius, hermana." 

Pope walked towards the closest wall and pulled out his hunting knife. He kept it sheathed and used the blunt handle to start hitting. The drywall was thin, and crumbled easily under the force in a dusting of white and chunks of paint and insulation. Just like you all had concluded each section of the wall was filled with stacks upon stacks of bundles of cash. Pope picked up a bundle and turned around slowly to show it to the others--a large grin plastered on his face.

"Holy shit," Benny moved to a wall opposite of Pope and started hitting the drywall with his elbow, over and over, until he had a wall big enough to start pulling the sheet rock down with his hands. "Will! Help me, man!"

Will joined his brother as they slid the large table to the side and took down the giant oil painting that covered most of the wall. Each of them started ripping and soon bundles of money were falling into the floor from the force of their search.

"Holy shit!" Benny said again. 

Each of them laughed and cursed, hooped and hollered, as they broke down each individual wall and revealed the cash underneath. Frankie made sure you stepped back before he took out his own knife and started helping.

"We need bags," Pope called.

"I got it," Will nodded, tossing a couple of the duffles to them.

"Keep 'em coming, man!" Benny said, catching the canvas and dropping to his knees to start shoveling hundred dollar bills into the bags. 

Frankie paused for a moment and looked at Pope with a serious look on his face. "What's wrong, Fish?" Pope asked.

"If the money’s still here, it means he’s still here." Frankie said, glancing back at you before back to the other man.

He was right. It made you look over your shoulder cautiously for any sign of the narcos lurking in the shadows. However, no one was in the room except the six of you. 

"He's gone man!" Benny called as he toppled one of the armchairs away from the wall and got to work on an untouched part of the room. "There's more over here!"

"Back wall, too!" Will called.

"Concentrate boys," Tom snarled, shoving fistfulls of cash bundles into a bag of his own. "How much time we got??"

"Eight minutes!" The Miller brothers said in unison from the opposite side of the room. 

They were all panting with the exertion of breaking the sides of the house and hustling to get as much of the stash into the duffle bags as they could, tossing them into the threshold of the office once they were zipped up and ready to go. The uneasy feeling was back in your stomach and you moved back over to Frankie's side and put your hand on his arm. "Cat--" you started to whisper but Tom yelled over you.

"Start getting this shit down to the van," he barked, tossing another bag onto the pile. "Keep your eyes open, do you hear me?"

Frankie looked at you with eyes so gentle it made your heart ache. It had been so long and yet with him standing in front of you it was as if he had spent the night in your bed just days ago. Without speaking, it was as if he understood what you were trying to tell him. You wanted to get the hell out of that mansion--money be damned. 

"We'll do it," Frankie spoke up, breaking your gaze to look at Tom. "(Y/n) and I will go get the van and start loading up. We need to go."

"Good plan," Will nodded, handing his bag off to you instead of tossing it, with a reassuring smile.

"I can tell you one thing man," Pope, laughed as he and Tom continued to use both hands to shovel money onto the floor. "You can tell your girls they can stop studying, because Daddy's going to buy their way into Harvard!"

"Yeah, bitches!" Benny said with another cackle.

Frankie tossed another bag over his shoulder and made sure you were with him before moving out of the office and down the steps. Will was close on your heels as he passed Frankie and said, "I'll go get the van."

"Be careful," Frankie nodded.

The two of you made it to the breezeway that framed the driveway in place of a garage. The cool air felt good on your skin and the rain smelled refreshing as you stood in a spot that it hadn't managed to blow in on. Getting out of that house felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders and with the relaxation came the ache of your tired muscles. Frankie told you to stay put and he made a couple more trips as they continued to toss him bags of money down the staircase. He was not subtle in the fact that you were never out of his sight for more than a handful of seconds. Each time he came back to throw more bags onto the pile, he touched your arm as if to reassure himself that you were real.

Will backed the van up and as soon as it got into position, Frankie hit the back doors with the palm of his hand, signaling a stop. He threw open the double doors and started loading.

"You guys stay here," Will said after he hopped out of the driver's side. "Get it loaded up and Benny and I will do the running."

"Sounds good." Frankie nodded and kept moving, working methodically to get as much into the back as was possible. It was like a game of real life Tetris. 

You handed him bag after bag, finally speaking up as the van started to become full to the brim. "Cat--" you started again and he paused to look at you. "We need to go. Please."

It was the 'please' that got him. The look in your eyes that said if you spent another minute in this god forsaken mansion, it would break you. You had watched your crew die, you had been manhandled, tied up, and left alone. And now that he had come to the rescue, you needed as much distance between yourself and this place as humanly possible. His eyes softened and crinkled lightly around the edges, lines that hadn't been there two years ago but that you suddenly found endearing. 

"Okay," he nodded. "Okay, we're going. Come on, baby." He slammed the doors shut as he tossed the last bag in and grabbed your hand like he had before. 

The two of you walked back up the stairs at a hurried pace and when you walked back into the office you weren't prepared for what you saw. Between Pope and Tom, they had gotten the entire wall torn down and from ceiling to floor, stacked within the studs that made the frame of the house, was nothing but bundles and bundles of cash. Benny had moved into the hall just outside of the office and on a hunch, started hammering at another wall. 

"There's more over here!" He called back to the others.

Frankie looked in the hall, and in the bedroom you had been tied up in, noting that each wall had a fresh coat of paint just like in Lorea's office. "It's the whole fucking house--fuck--"

"What is it, Fish?"

"The van's full man," Frankie urged him, looking at the rest of the guys in the office. 

"It's all good," Will nodded, stopping his task of filling another bag. "We gotta go." 

"Holy shit, this is a fuck ton of money," Benny said, grabbing another full bag and starting the trek down the stairs. 

"We need to go," Frankie repeated what Will announced and Pope nodded in agreement. The only one who didn't move towards the door was Tom.

"We got time a couple more loads," he mumbled as he continued to hack away at a new wall with his machete. 

Frankie narrowed his gaze on the man and glared at the back of his head. "What the hell are you doing? Stop digging more out we have all this to deal with!" He gestured to the floor that was littered with already packed bags and you tightened your grip on his hand. The anger building in his voice was undeniable.

 "I said, just a couple more loads!" Tom argued without turning around and even looking at the others. 

You waited for Frankie to retort but Will beat him to it, kicking one of the chairs out of his way and pointing at Tom. "You know in the ten years I've been working with you Tom, you have never missed a hard out!"

"We need to go!" Benny called from the stairs and Tom whipped around in anger. 

"Listen to me! I gave us a fifteen minute cushion," he gestured out the window to the driveway. "That's twelve minutes to the church, a forty minute service, and twelve minutes back. Add five minutes to load in and out of the van and we can subtract seven and beat them to the exit route." He slammed his hand against the wall and raised his voice another level. "We will be fine! Alright? God dammit, look at all this!" He waved his arms around the room and Frankie shook his head. 

"Fuck this!" He snarled and gripped your hand to start walking you down the hall. 

"Fish is right," Will said, working to keep his voice calm and even to counteract Tom's. "Time’s up. We gotta go."

"Wait--" Pope finally spoke up and Frankie stopped in the hall to look back at him. 

"Santi--" you said, shaking your head. Surely he didn't agree with Tom. 

"I want one more sweep for Lorea--," he said, looking pointedly at you. "Alright? (Y/n)?" He knew you were scared, he knew they needed to leave, but three years of hunting this bastard and if he didn't do one more search of the house, he would always wonder what if. "And then we burn it all down."

Against his better judgement, Frankie nodded in agreement and rubbed his forehead. "Fine. (Y/n) and I will get these last ones down there, and you call when you're ready to light it up. But you better fucking hustle."

Will and Tom pulled themselves away from the walls and moved down the hall to the master bedroom. Pope started to follow and you let go of Frankie to grab his arm instead. 

"Don't do this. Please. We need to go, now." You begged and looked him in the eyes.

"I have to look one more time," he said as gently as he could as he gripped your arm in return. "He has killed so many people. I have never been this close before--it ends now."

"Santiago--" you said, using his full name in a tone you both knew sounded like your mother.

"Go with Frankie," he nodded to the man at your right. "Go downstairs and get ready to--"

"GET DOWN!" 

Tom's voice rang out from the bedroom at the end of the hall and the doorway erupted in an ear shattering blast of automatic fire and flashing lights. Frankie slammed you up against the wall and covered you with his body, bracing his forearms over your head. You made a noise as your back hit the drywall but you knew he didn't mean it--his only goal was to protect you, even though you were the one wearing the kevlar. The action made you remember just how much bigger he was than you as your world went dark and all you felt was the solid plane of his chest and cotton button up. 

There was yelling, more gunfire, you heard Pope yell rapidly in his native tongue and Will said something over the bullets before everything went silent. 

"What the hell are we shooting at?!" Frankie called above your head, loud enough that his voice carried into the bedroom. He looked down at you against his chest, panting hard as his heart raced. “You okay?” he whispered and you nodded. You were so tired of the sound of gunfire.

"Target down!" Tom called back and it made Frankie move back and let you breathe once again. 

The two of you hurried into the bedroom and you gasped as Frankie put his arm out to keep you safely behind him. 

Pope stood in the doorway of a secret safe room that had been hidden behind a large armoire. In the entrance to the hiding space lay Lorea in a pool of his own blood, with a bullet dead center in the middle of his forehead. Call it a hunch, but you knew your brother had made that hell of a shot. Pope had his gun pointed at the unmoving body and the veins in his arms flexed as he readjusted his grip on the weapon. His body went still before he pulled the trigger again, then again, over and over, emptying the entire clip into Lorea's head. Once the narcos was nothing more than a pile of blood and brain matter the gun clicked empty and Pope lowered his arms, hitting the release on the magazine and letting it fall to the floor. 

Frankie approached him slowly and moved his own rifle to one hand so he could touch his friend on the shoulder. "You got him, man."

"He's dead." Pope said flatly and Frankie nodded.

"Good."

A groan came from the other side of the room as Will dropped to one knee with a thud. Everyone turned as they watched the blonde put a hand to his side and pull it back with his own blood painted across his fingers. 

"I'm hit." He grunted, tossing his rifle to the side and working on the straps of his gear. 

You hurried to his side as Tom mirrored your movements and the two of you flanked the man on the ground.

"Where?" Tom said.

"Left side." Will groaned as you helped him lay flat on the ground with his head resting against his backpack.

"Help me get this off, Tom," you said firmly, pulling at the straps of his kevlar that had ridden up just enough to let the bullet go through his lower love handle. You raised up Will's shirt and inspected the wound as warm blood slid down your hand and over your wrist before dripping to the floor. The man hissed as you probbed the wound. "It went straight through."

"Thank fuck," Tom said, looking up as Pope rummaged through his bag and handed you his clot kit. 

"Get it on him, and then we gotta go."

"I'm okay. I'm okay," Will nodded as Pope took Tom's place on his opposite side. Tom and Frankie aimed both of their guns at the door as they heard footsteps. "I told you this was a stupid idea." Will groaned. 

"Yeah, you sure did," Pope chuckled, helping you wrap the stretchy material around his waist and apply pressure. 

Benny came back in and the two guarding the door quickly aimed their guns at the ground. "Church is out--they're back...shit." His eyes got wide as he laid sight on his brother and the blood all over your hands.

"The family is here?" Frankie asked and Benny shook his head.

"No, the first shift of guards."

Once you secured the clotting cloth, Will thanked you with a grip of your arm and a smile that reached his kind, blue eyes. You stood and allowed Benny to take your spot, helping him get his kit back on and slowly make it to his feet. They hadn't brought a stretcher and they definitely couldn't carry him out of here, but the blonde kept repeating that he could make it. 

"Okay, new plan," Pope looked out the window, watching the guards pull up to the house. "we each grab a backpack of cash and we go out through the jungle and around."

"No, no way," Will shook his head and groaned as he got all the way up onto his feet. 

"We are getting Ironhead home safe!" Tom pointed at the blond. "Not trekking him through the jungle. And we are not leaving them any of this fucking money!"

Frankie felt his hands ball into fists as he took a step towards Tom but Pope blocked him with his arm and you took the hint to go stand by him. 

"Right…" Pope said cautiously with a desperate look on his face--talking to Tom like the ticking time bomb that he was. "So, we burn it all down and go."

"There is about a hundred million dollars down there in that van," Tom pointed to the hall. "We are going out the front. We need to hunt and shoot quickly. Call out your kills--I don't want any fucking surprises!"

There was a moment of silence as the two men clearly struggled for who was calling the shots. You tried to breathe evenly as you watched the vein pop in your brother's neck as he stared down Tom. Tom had always been your least favorite of your brother's squad. His hotheaded manner and stubbornness always seemed to get him, and anyone else in his path, in more trouble than they should have. But you stayed next to Frankie and let Pope think this one out.

"We had two objectives--Lorea and (Y/n). Now, I am not putting my sister or Ironhead in more danger for some fucking narcos money."

"Both of them will be in more danger if we drag our sorry asses through that jungle," Tom stepped closer to the other man. "You brought me here to lead--now, I'm not asking, we're not taking a vote, I'm telling you...we're leaving through the front."

The two of them continued to stare at one another before Pope finally backed down with a nod and your stomach dropped to the floor. "Alright."

"Let's get it done," Will said, breathing heavily as he adjusted his rifle in his hands. "Quick and clean. Like always."

"Pope and Frankie, you take (y/n) and go out that way and down through the kitchen. Millers down the front. I'll hang back and keep an eye out--here we go fellas." Tom accentuated each order with a point and gesture of his arm and Frankie looked down at you.

"Get your gun out," he said, lowering his voice as you all started to move in the directions you were told. "Don't shoot first--unless necessary."

"Got it," you nodded, gripping the glock tighter than was needed to keep your hands from shaking. 

You moved swiftly and with purpose. Taking two steps to Frankie's one as you moved down the stairs and through the living room. A short spatter of bullets sounded from the dining room and shortly after, you heard Will's voice through the com on Frankie's ear. "That's two down in the front hall."

The two of you turned the corner and Frankie squeezed the trigger, firing twice into the chest of a guard who crossed his path. "That's three."

Another round of shots and Pope's voice came next, "That's four."

"Back to the main gate. They dropped more guys out there."

Frankie clicked his com, "I'm going out through the kitchen and grabbing the van."

"The kitchen is the wrong way, what are you on about Fish?" Tom's voice came over, confused and irritated.

"I got something I gotta do." He said back and turned to you behind him. "Stay here."

"What??" You said, your voice a little higher than you would have liked it to be.

"I need you to stay here." He tried to be reassuring but your heart started hammering in your chest and the thought of being alone again in this place. The idea of him leaving you for any reason made it even worse. 

"Don't leave me," you shook your head. The fear on your face must have been more evident than you thought because looking at you made him hesitate. 

"You promise that no matter what happens in the next few minutes, you'll do as I say?" He asked and your fear turned increasingly into a mixture of panic. 

"Frankie--"

"Promise me, (y/n)." He said flatly, he was not negotiating.

You nodded, adding in a meek voice, "I promise."

He led the way into the kitchen, his rifle was slung over his shoulder by the strap as he took out another handgun from the holster at his side. The appliances were incredibly outdated but the creamy butter-yellow walls and white cabinets easily made the kitchen the brightest room in the desolate house. You watched Frankie walk around the kitchen island, his gun sweeping the area as he moved into the heart of the room. 

Two men lay on the tile floor, bound and gagged, and you knew exactly who they were. They were two of Lorea's head guards, the ones that shoved you in the van in the middle of the city, the one that hit you, tied you up--and Frankie knew it too. 

He raised his gun and one of the men started to yell around the black electrical tape over his mouth, thrashing his head back and forth wildly. You felt like you were going to be sick. 

"Frankie…" you said, standing next to him and touching his side. 

He lowered the gun ever so slightly and looked at you. "Remember the deal? Whatever I say, right?"

Bile rose in your throat as you saw the hardened look in the eyes of one of the kindest men you have ever known. Those normally warm, coffee-colored eyes were almost black as he looked at you with a locked jaw and unwavering stance. Seeing such emotion in him and how palpable it felt around his aura hurt more than you ever thought it could. Tears burned in the back of your throat as you nodded. You weren't crying for the men on the floor, you were crying to the soul of the man you loved. 

He reached his free arm out and drew you against the shelter of the side of his body. He could feel you tremble against him as you grabbed onto his shirt like the lifeline that it was. 

"Close your eyes and cover your ears," he said, flatly and when he felt you let go of him to do so, he pulled the trigger. 

One shot. Muzzle. Bitch. Two shots. Merchandise. Cunt.  

Two clean shots, echoing in the empty kitchen, hit both of them directly in the center of the forehead. No mistake, no chance, just dead. Frankie felt you jolt against him with each bang and no matter how much he wanted the men at his feet to suffer the way you had suffered, he wouldn't risk making you feel differently about him. The idea that the rage bubbling in his gut could make you look at him in fear was enough to keep his emotions in check. He had done what he needed to do. They would never lay hands on anyone else the way they had laid hands on his girl, no one would ever suffer because of them again--for now, that was enough. 

--

Neither you nor Frankie spoke as you left the mansion and loaded into the van. You watched in the rearview mirror as Tom squeezed the lighter fluid on every inch of the foyer and the curtains that lined the walls. He pulled out a lighter and paused for a moment before flicking it to life and tossing it down. The front of the house quickly engulfed in flames, so bright they burned blue towards the bottom where the heat was the most intense. 

The wipers squeaked in a rhythmic annoyance as you sat in the van and the two of you waited for the rest of them to get the other vehicle. An SUV of guards pulled into the compound and you gripped the console as Pope and Will opened fire, busting the tinted windows and peppering everyone inside with bullets. Each man opened a door and grabbed a now lifeless guard by the shirt and pulled him out to let him slump to the ground like a ragdoll. 

You watched as Tom moved up from the ditch and shot the last guard in another spray of blood that was quickly washed down the rocks by the rain. 

It was suddenly too humid in the car. There was not enough air circulating as your chest felt tight and your breathing increased. It felt as if someone was sitting on top of you. Your hands shook, your eyes burned, and you wanted to claw at your throat to desperately rid yourself of whatever was stuck inside of your windpipe.

"Frankie," you managed to choke out as you started to feel around your vest for the buckles. "Frankie, I can't breathe." 

"Hey, hey," he said softly, turning his body in the seat to face you. Saying your name, he reached out and put his hand over yours as you kept trying to rip at the straps of the kevlar. "Stop. (Y/n) stop."

"I can't--" you started to argue with a shake of your head and you hated how weak your voice sounded. You weren't broken. You could do this. But the silence of the car, paired with finally being in a space of solitude with Frankie, was forcing every fear and thought you had in the last three days to race to the surface. 

"You can," he insisted. "We are not out of the woods yet." He took your hand in his and scooted as close to you as the center console would allow. He put your hand over his heart and made sure you locked eyes with him. "This has to stay on you. You understand? I know what you're feeling and I promise as soon as we get somewhere safe you can fall as hard as you need to and I’ll be there, okay?"

You nodded way too quickly and felt dizzy the moment the motion made your hair bounce. He squeezed the hand he had pressed against his chest and dipped his head to make sure you caught his gaze.

“I’m okay,” you said, not sounding okay in the slightest, but maybe if you said it outloud it would be true.

“I know you are,” he reassured you. “Breathe with me. In through your nose--there it is. Out through your mouth. You got it. Here.” He leaned forward and turned on the A/C, pointing the extra vents at you and breathing became easier once you felt the cool air tickle the strands of your hair. He kept hold of your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it a few times.

“Thank you,” you closed your eyes and leaned back against the headrest continuing to breathe as evenly as you could. 

“No thanks needed, sweetheart,” he said quietly, looking back out the window as Pope gave him a signal to keep moving. “That’s us.” 

You started to pull your hand away so he could drive but he kept his grip on it, balancing them on the gearshift as he moved his freehand to the top of the steering wheel. The unconscious action made you smile a bit. Something as simple as holding his hand over the console of the car reminded you of summer drives in his truck. With rolled down windows and a classic rock station, you could almost smell the wind in the grass and hear the frogs calling along the tree line. You held onto that memory as tightly as you held onto his hand, knowing that it was the only things that were going to get you out of this fucking jungle in one piece.

--

Tag List: @winters-buck​ @stevieharrrr​ @zeldasayer​ @rae-gar-targaryen​ @thebakerstboyskeeper @bookshelvesandteacups @honestlystop @seawhisperer @huliabitch @phoenixhalliwell @roxypeanut @mrsparknuts @domino-oh-damn @wickedfrsgrl @cloud-of-roses @arrowswithwifi @thinemineours @sgtpenny @xxlovingfandomsxx @scorpionsandhoney @honeybeeespeaks @lukesrighthand@irishleesh93 @ripleyafterdark @lokiaddicted @maybege @humongouspandafest @jigglemiwa @manda-but-not-lorian @skdubbs @buckstaposition @lostinwonderland314 @a-killvr-queen @seawhisperer @mrpascals @saltywintersoldat @lukesrighthand @starlite41@ms-dont-care​ @lustinglilac​ @fioccodineveautunnale​ @cahooter​ @mrscrain-x7​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ @sendhoots​ @badassbaker @technicallykawaiisoul @lostinwonderland314 @wherethefuckiskathmandu @colourforanamee @anevrismes @kazualdk @keeper0fthestars @sunkissed-winter @@shinyfranci @cinewhore @whiskeyslasso 

Please let me know if you wish to be tagged, untagged, or if I missed you! Please, please, please. This tag list is growing and if I messed up, I promise it was not on purpose.

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Eidolon 14 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:  AU: What started off as the result of a simple act of rebellion ends up causing his life to spin out of control. How will young Danny cope with the results as well as a past that has a strange habit of coming back to haunt him.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, kidnapping, and various other things

Chapter warnings: implied character death. Entrapment

Parings: hints of Danny/Sam much later on

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr

Chapter 14: History

"Sweetie, could you hand me the socket wrench? I think it's somewhere to your left…" a woman asked as she looked up from the device she was creating to glance at her daughter calmly reading on a worn couch about twenty yards behind her.

The girl being addressed sighed but complied with the request. She moved to a nearby tablet and quickly began searching through various stacks of blueprints of various inventions yet to be invented to find the tool which was possibly lurking underneath. "Mom!" she called out rather sheepishly a few moments later, "which one is it again?"

"It's the silver one that looks like it has a nozzle on the end."

"Well… that's not very specific."

A few moments later, the girl came over to the woman's workbench and produced a few different tools. Chuckling, the woman grabbed the needed tool, placed to others on a nearby table, and thanked her daughter. Quickly, she began tightening a nut needed to keep her project together. It needed to be stable if it was going to do its job.

"Um… what exactly are you making again?" her daughter asked after a few awkward moments of examining the device.

"It's a containment unit to trap ghosts," she explained without missing a beat of her work. "I thought I had mentioned this one to you before."

"Probably, but you know it's hard for me to keep all of your various inventions straight." The girl fell silent and started to head back towards the couch. "Mom…" she called out before she had reached her destination, "If he's just going to destroy your work, why do you continue to make all of these inventions? It's not like they'll help us escape."

Now it was the woman's turn to sigh. She gently put her tools down, pushed her red safety goggles up, and turned towards the younger girl while adopting an understanding expression. "Jazz… I know what I do seems pointless at times… But, if we can manage to either trap or incapacitate Vlad, then maybe we can finally get out of here."

"But Mom, in case you forgot, we need a ghost to get out of here! That maniac put us in a room with no door, no windows, and a ventilation system way too small for a human to even consider using for an escape! Unless you've found a way to safely blast through eight feet of steel enforced concrete, even if you can incapacitate him, what good will it do?

The woman bit her lip at her daughter's words. "It does seem hopeless, but I refuse to give up. We are going to get out of here, somehow. I promise." She gave Jazz a glance conveying the conversation was finished for the moment before turning back to her work.

Dealing with a teenager was difficult on the best of days, but when she was the only completely living person the woman had contact with for the previous thirteen years or so, trying to convey hope was exceedingly she was, Madeline (Maddie) Fenton, ghost hunter and paranormal research extraordinaire trying to convince her daughter they would be able to escape, when she had been utterly trapped and neutralized by a ghost who could disguise itself as a human. If only she had realized such a thing was possible years prior, there was a chance she could have prevented their current predicament and the separation of their family.

The man had seemed nice enough when he had introduced himself to her and her husband, Jack, all those years ago. He had even helped fund their various anti-ghost projects, but it was all a sham. The man had only gotten close to them to keep an eye on their research and any children they might have. She should have seen the warning signs when he brought up that one particular legend, but she, like Jack, just brushed if off as simple curiosity.

But, soon after Maddie became pregnant with her second child, Vlad's interest in their family started to verge on obsessive. It worsened after they found out the gender of the growing child. This, his possession of one particularly old book, and the growing notion he was somehow involved in the raids on the lab by the ghost known as Plasmius had forced her to reconsider Vlad as the person who would look after her children if anything would happen to her and Jack.

About a year after her son was born, the attacks from Plasmius on their research compound and home had gotten much worse, and Vlad's behavior had gotten more eccentric. Worried, she contacted an old friend of hers who had worked with her and Jack in the past and explained the situation to him. He seemed to understand the situation and agreed to her request. Not wasting any time, Maddie sent him a copy of the new will she and Jack created so he could look over it before it was finalized. Unfortunately, she never got the chance.

Plasmius had managed to find a way to get by their security system and enter the main part of the house. Maddie barely had a chance to hide her son before Plasmius knocked her out. When she awoke, she found herself alongside her husband and daughter in what appeared to be a large concrete room with no apparent doors or windows. Little did she know it would become her prison for the next fourteen years.

When Plasmius (who revealed himself to also be Masters) demanded to know where their son was, both she and Jack refused to tell him. He appeared to take it well and left them to their own devices for a couple weeks. During those weeks, the only outside interactions they had were with the ghostly servants who tended to their needs and furnished the room. Maddie still could fondly recall the way Jack tended to attempt to attack the servants on sight.

When Vlad reemerged, he was absolutely livid. Her son had been found where she had hidden him, but the courts had refused to let Vlad anywhere near the child due to the presence of the document her friend held. While surprised the courts ruled it as official, Maddie couldn't help but be pleased. However, Vlad found it as unforgivable and took his rage out on Jack. Maddie still was not entirely sure what happened to her husband after Vlad took him, but Vlad had given her enough hints for her to understand Jack was dead.

After her husband's death, she believed the same fate would befall her and Jazz, but it never came. Vlad had developed somewhat of a liking for both of them and had gone to great lengths to keep them happy and healthy. Her concerns turned to her missing son, who was still outside of Vlad's reach. The boy's new guardian had disappeared from Vlad's sights making the hybrid furious. What Maddie never understood was why the man never used his abilities to overturn the different court orders to gain control of the child or even just kidnap him. The only thing she could fathom was either he could not properly forge signatures or it dealt with his pride as a man, if one could refer to him as such.

After about a year of imprisonment, Maddie devoted herself to three main goals: educating her daughter, escaping, and taking care of Vlad for good. When she wasn't helping Jazz increase her knowledge with the books and materials Vlad had given them, she was working on weaponry which had the potential of fighting off Vlad and his servants (though most of them were relatively harmless). Unfortunately, it seemed as if Vlad had a means of spying on her as he seemed to always know what she was making and would frequently take and/or destroy her work, forcing her to start from scratch. Though it was disheartening, she was not going to give up. From her perspective, getting a handle on Vlad was the only route of a feasible escape.

Though most of her thoughts retained to the protection of her daughter, she would occasionally wonder about her son. She had no knowledge of his life which she supposed was a good thing. The less she heard, the better as it meant Vlad was not making progress. However, there were whispers among the staff involving Vlad's interest in a recent case involving missing documents in a single parent household. Though it was probably no big deal, Maddie had an uneasy feeling every time she thought of it.

…..

An odd noise caught her attention around dinnertime. It almost sounded like a yell. Glancing over at Jazz, Maddie noted her daughter also had heard it. She looked in the direction of the noise just in time to catch someone falling from the ceiling. Unsure who had intruded into their space, she grabbed her newest completed weapon, an ecto-staff (complete with retractable edges), and slowly approached the newcomer. The person lying on the ground appeared young and completely knocked out. But, her assumption was quickly proven wrong as the figure groaned slightly before shakily standing up.

It was a teenage boy, or at least its appearance suggested it was, with startling white hair and a mostly black wardrobe. The white aura around him indicated he was a ghost, but Maddie had never seen a ghost fall such a manner which made her suspicious. Deciding to gain the upper hand in the situation before he could react, she snuck up on him while he was glancing around and stabbed him in the back with her staff, effectively shocking him. Secretly glad her invention worked, she removed the weapon from him back and then used it to slam him into the closest wall.

"Don't move!" Maddie hissed at the boy after shocking him again with the staff. "I don't know why Vlad sent you, but I am not going to let a ghost harm either me or my daughter!"

"Hold on a second!" The ghost's voice was full of fear and confusion as he held up his hands in protection. The echo in his voice made him a little difficult to understand, but it was the same with most ghosts. "I'm not going to hurt you! I didn't even realize you were here!"

Her response was to shock him again. "Nice try, ghost!" she snarled after his screams died down. Most ghosts, no matter how friendly they seemed, lied. It was in their nature to try and trick the living.

"Wh-what are you talking about….? What ghost? I'm… I'm not a ghost!"

Maddie raised an eyebrow as she studied the boy. He seemed genuinely confused; she could see it in his eyes. Was it possible this ghost didn't actually know it was a ghost? No, that was impossible."Oh, and I suppose normal people have unnaturally white hair and glow?" she asked sarcastically trying to force him to admit he was lying.

"Hey, that was something Vlad did to me…!" he retorted indignantly before realization seemed to hit him. "Wait a minute…. I'm glowing?" A frown crossed his features as he examined his hands and noticed the pale light emanating from his body. "Why the hell am I glowing? What was in that drink he gave me?"

She stared at him in amazement. "You didn't even realize…" she muttered to herself as the scientist in her started to emerge. "You're either a good actor or newly formed…" Examining him more, she quickly threw out the notion he was acting. Everything about him, from his body language to the honest surprise in his shockingly green eyes, indicated his expressions were genuine. But, ghosts weren't supposed to be able to be so expressive, unless they were newly formed as they still had some recollection of their human life. If he was newly formed, it represented such a great possibility! "Hmm… I've never gotten to study a newly formed ghost before…"

The boy seemed to understand her intensions and immediately tried to scoot away from her. Fascinating! Didn't he realize he could just phase through the wall? "Look, I really didn't mean to bother you!" he told her quickly as he glanced around for an escape route. "I really want to leave as much as you seem to want me to. So… if you could please just show me where the door is, I'll be out of your hair."

Maddie didn't answer him immediately which caused him to cringe. She was far too interested in his physiology. After powering down her staff, she placed the end of her staff to lift the boy's chin. "Fascinating! Your body structure is incredibly similar to that of a human's, and you clearly still think like one." It was true. He was the most human-looking ghost she had ever seen. If it wasn't for the white hair and glow, he would look exactly like a normal teenager. Even his skin color could pass as a human's. Normally, the closest a ghost got was a sickly pale white, but this kid was actually tan. Maybe his appearance would become more ghost-like as he got older.

"'Think'? What's with this think business? I am human!"

She was about to retort when her daughter suddenly pushed her aside. "You're scaring him!" she scolded before turning towards the boy and extended her hand. "Here, I'll help you up. By the way, my name is Jazz."

The ghost looked at Jazz warily before accepting the hand. "I'm Danny," he told her with a smile as she pulled him to his feet. Maddie was surprised how easily the ghost was able to interact with her daughter. Though most ghosts could interact with the physical world, it tended to take some effort. They boy seemed to have no problems whatsoever. Maybe it was another particularity of such a young ghost. "And… I … uh, didn't mean to come in here, I promise. I was just trying to get away from Vlad…" He coughed awkwardly for a moment before he looked around. "Um, where exactly am I anyways?"

Jazz was obviously amused by his response. After patting his shoulder, she led him towards her favorite couch, an old and patched gray thing she refused to let Vlad replace. "Let's exchange information. You're obviously confused by this just as much as we are."

Maddie watched the interaction with a wary eye. While she wasn't too keen on letting the ghost get close to her daughter, it didn't seem like it was hostile. Maybe hostility was another trait which was age dependent. No matter the reason, it was still a great opportunity to study the boy. It also gave another possibility; he could have some information on Vlad she could use. So, observing was her best course of action, for now.

…

"And I thought my situation was bad!" Danny remarked after he listened to Jazz explain their situation. He leaned back, allowing himself to rest his head on the back of the couch. "I can't imagine being trapped in a place like this for so long. And there isn't any way to escape?"

Jazz shook her head. "Trust me; we've looked over this place hundreds of times with no luck."

A frowned crossed Danny's face as he considered it. "It's just like the room he had me in… except it at least had a door. Man, that guy really is a fruitloop. Why has he kept you here for so long?"

"He hasn't exactly privileged us with that information," Maddie sniffed as she stared at the ghost. While he didn't seem like a threat, she still wasn't sure he wasn't under Vlad's control. "I'm surprised he hasn't told you."

"I keep telling you I have nothing do with that guy! Not only did he kidnap me and give me this weird stuff, but Winston told me he's the one who attacked my family!"

"Hey…" Jazz quickly interrupted noticing Maddie was starting to get irritated. She inwardly smiled at her daughter; Jazz was really good at reading her mood. "You've mentioned this drink Vlad gave you a couple times now… What exactly was it?"

"Not sure…" he replied with a frown. "I was trying to break down the door to that room I was in when he came in and somehow managed to be in two places at the same time. One of the Vlads held me still while the other forced this nasty tasting green glowing stuff down my throat. Next thing I know, I'm sick to my stomach and in a lot of pain." He grimaced and grabbed his arms as he recalled the event. "After I woke up… Vlad came in and started talking about this curse before dragging me in front of a really big mirror. After catching a glimpse of my appearance, I freaked out, ran for my life, and tripped over my own feet. Next thing I know, I'm in a strange room being stabbed by that staff." He glared at Maddie. "What exactly did you do to it to make to shock people like that?"

"Hold on a moment… you 'caught a glimpse of your appearance'?" Jazz paraphrased slowly. "So, you're implying you didn't look like you currently do before getting here?"

"Yes! What's so hard to understand about that?" Danny's voice was full of frustration. "I don't know why Vlad changed my clothes and hair color. Where does that guy get off dying someone's black hair white? It's going to take forever to get all of this bleach out…"

Maddie shared a look with her daughter as Danny examined one of the snowy locks near his face. He really didn't seem to understand exactly what had happened to him, and he certainly didn't seem to realize he was no longer human. He was even sitting perfectly on the worn out couch like a regular person. Normally, even when sitting, ghosts tended to float above the piece of furniture instead of touching it.

But, there was a bigger implication to the ghost's words. He was suggesting he was still alive when Vlad had gotten a hold of him. If Vlad had indeed killed the boy than how many of the other spirits they had encountered through the years had met their fate in the same way?

"So… Danny," Jazz stated suddenly in an attempt to change the subject, "how old are you?"

He frowned for a moment before he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Hmm… that is a good question. Since I'm not exactly sure how long I've been here, I'm not sure if my birthday's passed. If it has, I'm fifteen now."

Maddie had to turn away for a moment after listening to the boy. Usually she was unaffected by the words of a ghost, but this one was different. He was approximately the same age as her missing son. Had he been taken away from his family like hers had been? At least she was still alive and would eventually be able to try and reconnect with the boy when she eventually escaped. This child would never get the same chance.

…...

About an hour had gone by since Danny had fallen through the ceiling. While the boy was proving to be surprisingly good company, Maddie was surprised no one else had visited them as dinner time had passed. Suspicious, but not overly alarmed, she turned her attention back towards the boy.

Though Danny had initially come across as shy, he was actually rather talkative and had a good sense of humor. Even she was warming up to him, though she wasn't going to admit it. She did allow herself to politely offer him a drink from the small fridge Vlad had given them in an attempt to play hostess. Amazingly, he drank it with no apparent problem. Ghosts weren't supposed to be able to handle human foods, but perhaps since he was so young he still had something of a human constitution. She was going to have to ask the boy to allow her to study him more in depth.

While the boy was telling a joke, he suddenly gasped and shivered. "Danny… are you okay…?" Jazz asked him hesitantly as she touched his shoulder. A small gasp escaped her as she watched a faint mist form from his breath before disappearing. How peculiar. Ghosts shouldn't be able to breathe, and it certainly wasn't cold enough in the room for it to be visible.

"Someone's coming…" Danny stated as he stood up and looked at the ceiling. His breath misted again as he spoke.

Maddie looked at him curiously. "What do you mean? Are you telling me you can sense other ghosts?"

"I… I don't know… But I think it's Vlad… Great… just what I need right now…"

"Are you sure?" If this boy was telling the truth, he presented an interesting possibility. This was the first time she had ever heard of such a power.

Danny wasn't able to give an answer before Vlad phased through the ceiling in about the area where he had been staring. The man looked agitated as he glanced around the room before allowing his gaze to focus on her and the two teenagers. A smile graced his lips as he floated down to their level.

"Ah, Maddie, Jasmine, you look wonderful today," he told them as a form of a greeting. "I do hope you forgive me for dinner being late today. A certain someone disappeared, and it's been a mess trying to find him." His attentions turned towards Danny, who hesitantly backed away. "My dear boy, how did you ever manage to end up down here?"

When Danny didn't answer, Vlad rubbed his eyes and continued to talk. "Though I had planned on introducing you to the girls eventually, I was hoping you would have a much better grasp of your powers before then. No matter… In fact, this may actually work to my advantage." He glanced at back at Maddie and gave a strange smile. "So, my dear, do you recognize him? I've heard a mother will always have some sort of recognition when she encounters a child she hasn't seen in years."

Maddie narrowed her eyes at the strange comment. "What are you talking about?" She glanced to her side to check where her staff was. Drat! Why didn't she grab it when it Vlad entered the room?

"Oh, how silly of me," he said as he placed his hand over his face in feigned embarrassment. "It would be much harder to recognize him in this form. Come here, Daniel."

The boy shook his head and continued to move away. "No way! I'm not letting a sicko like you come anywhere near me again."

"When will you learn you are in no position to argue?" Vlad's tone was rather resigned as he tiredly made three duplicates of himself.

As Danny kept switching his glance between the different Vlads in a terrified manner, Maddie snuck over and grabbed her staff. She kept her movements as quiet as possible until she noticed the clones were about make a move to grab the boy. "Danny, run!" she shouted as she attacked what she believed to be the original with her staff.

"You'll regret that, woman!" the hybrid snarled as he and two of the clones turned their attention to her.

One of them shot a beam of pink ecto-energy while another disappeared. She easily blocked it with her staff, as most ecto-infused weapons could deflect such attacks, before using it to stab the air behind her. A grunt of pain told her she had hit her mark; Vlad could be so predictable some times. Bringing the bottom of the staff up from the ground, she nailed the ghost in the chin to giving him an injury somewhat comparable to that of an upper cut. She then flipped the staff to use the momentum to bring it horizontally and nail him again in the face. A satisfying crash told her he was down for the moment. One down, three more to go.

She quickly jumped back as another blast was sent her way. As soon as she landed, she had to lean back as the other Vlad involved in her fight swung a right hook at her. Recovering before he could, she swung the bottom of her staff up towards her so she could circle it and hit him. The ghost tried to turn intangible before it hit, but the ecto-energy within the staff still sent a painful shockwave through him. Bringing the bottom of the staff up, she switched the position of her hands to allow her to bring the tip down on the top of his head. Sensing the approach of another clone from behind her, she thrust the staff backwards,hitting the him, before sliding it back forwards to once again hit her previous opponent.

Quickly adjusting her hands again, she swung the staff around, much like an overly large baseball bat, catching both of her opponents as the move caused her to crouch. Bringing the rear end of the staff to the floor, she slid the tip out until it was resting under the opponent behind her as she turned around. Standing, she shifted positions and brought the end of the staff right between Vlad's knees. She could hear him slump to the floor as she turned her attention back towards the other one. Somewhere on her right, she could see the Vlad she hit earlier getting up from the floor.

The frustrating thing about ghosts was their incredible resilience. While they could be damaged with the proper weapon, they were easily able to recover if given the time. Though Vlad was somehow only half ghost, he still possessed the annoying trait making him a difficult opponent, even if she was the better fighter. And, he was an expert at distractions.

A yell somewhere to her side caught her attention. The one Vlad which had gone after Danny had finally gotten a hold of him. Vlad was trying to say something when an irritated, "Get away from him!" was shouted followed by a heavy book being thrown. Though the book easily passed through Vlad, he did give Jazz a rather irritated look.

"I would stay out of this if I were you, girl," he retorted as he raised his hand towards her. Pink energy circle the outstretched hand as he kept the other firmly attached to Danny's shirt.

"You leave my daughter alone!" Maddie shouted as she started to charge towards the fourth Vlad. Her movements were cut short as she was grabbed from behind by several hands. She struggled only to find she was effectively stuck and at least a few inches from the ground.

"Just sit back and watch the show," one of the Vlads hissed in her ear. "Struggling won't get you out of this mess."

"Now that all of the distractions are gone…" the Vlad holding Danny looked over the terrified boy rather carefully. "You've caused quite a lot of trouble today… I would be more careful in the future. You wouldn't want the people who care about you to get hurt, would you?"

Danny was barely able to mumble an answer when Vlad started sending shocks through his body. Maddie watched in horror as the boy screamed as he started to convulse. After an agonizing moment, Vlad stopped the shocks and held the limp boy by the arm seemingly waiting for something. After a moment, a dazzling blue-white ring appeared from Danny's waist. It quickly spilt in two; each half traveling along both halves of his body. When the lights died down, a completely different boy was dangling from Vlad's grasp. This one had pitch black hair and lighter skin. Even the outfit was different.

Apparently satisfied, the solitary Vlad glanced at Maddie and held up the seemingly unconscious boy. "Maddie, meet your long lost son, Daniel Fenton." He then flung the boy onto the gray couch. As he did so, the other Vlads let go of Maddie and were absorbed back into the other one. "As you can see, he has come into his birthright… though he doesn't look anything like what either of us were expecting. But, I'm not overly bothered. There are things I must prepare for him, so until I return, look after him. I dare say you should welcome this as a great time to bond with him. Ta!" With a mocking grin, he floated up towards the ceiling and disappeared.

Maddie, though no longer trapped by the ghost, was unable to move as she stared at the boy on the couch. This child… this ghost, was really her son? But how…?

She collapsed to the floor and tried to hold back her tears. She had tried to prevent this! Vlad wasn't supposed to get a hold of him! And Danny… poor Danny, she and Jack had done research to try and prevent him from becoming like Vlad, but it had all been for naught. She should have known better than to try and fight fate. But, how was she going to live with herself when the sweet boy from before became the monster from her nightmares?

=== End of chapter notes:

It was actually pretty fun to write Maddie's fight scene. I've actually taken Kung Fu in the past and was fortunate enough to learn some staff forms. With my staff currently sitting in the living room (where I usually tend to do my writing), I was able to grab it and fool around with different movements and forms to try and get a semi-realistic fight going in my mind. But, staff movements aren't easy to describe. There aren't a lot of technical terms and you can't swing them sideways without picking them up in certain ways. The circling I describe is in reference to switching staff positions/forms. Note, when you learn how to work with a staff, it's usually taller than you are.

Vlad is a master manipulator, strategist, and can fight, but knowing he tends to let others do his work, I'm fairly certain Maddie would be able to take him in a real fight if he didn't get a chance to plan it out. Sure, Maddie could have gained the upper hand on him a while ago, but that's exactly why he takes away her weapons. The staff escaped due to the ends being retractable allowing it to be stored in odd places. Yes, I thought about this.

[secretsantaforlucia]

Freakin’ Mistletoe

This is a SPN Secret Santa gift for @luciathewinchestergirl

I was planning a drabble (exactly 100 words) but it got out of hand and ended up exactly 1500 instead. And taking 3 days instead of a couple hours. 

Dear Lucia, I hope you like it. It’s a little bit CrackFic, and all in fun.

 After the SS reveal, I’m plan to add it to my AO3 account. 

No explicitly written relationships. I think. Hints of them, yeah, but I believe anyone should be able to read it without being offended or triggered.

(GIF is not mine, and added to catch the eye, and only slightly related to the story. A bit.)

Jack had been reading about Christmas traditions. This was pretty much his first Christmas, since the previous December, they’d all kinda been in A Bad Place and nobody’d had time to even acknowledge the holiday.

When Jack read something about mistletoe, he scurried down that rabbit hole and learned that not only was it tradition to kiss under the greenery, but that it had been used to ward off demons and evil spirits, once upon a time. And the source mentioned witchcraft. And he knew a witch personally, one he thought was nice, and had tried to save his life. So, of course, he called Rowena to ask her opinion on mistletoe.

Rowena being Rowena, and probably having Ulterior Motives as witches often do – even witches who are Trying to Reform and Do Good Things From Now On – played it up and encouraged Jack to hang mistletoe in every single doorway of the bunker, even those doorways which only opened upon a supply closet. She must have supplied the kid with piles of the plant as well as red velvet ribbon, because the bunker had a heck of a lot of doorways and archways, and a fancy-red-bowed bundle of the stuff was now hanging in EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. And after all of those were decorated, Jack had started hanging it in random places in the middle of rooms.

Rowena’s reasoning to Jack was, and I quote, “just for a wee bit of a backup, in case all of the Men of Letters’ fancy complicated warding fails. Besides….who doesn’t like a bit of kissing during the holidays!” Dean didn’t know what her game was, but he didn’t like it, and wanted to make that clear.

“I don’t know what her game is, but I’m tellin�� ya man…I don’t like it,” Dean shared with whoever was within earshot, once he found out what was with “all the freakin’ green stuff every freakin’ where” because, of course Jack told him everything that Rowena had said. Jack’s honest that way.

Sam, the complete nerd, actually had the nerve to jump on Jack & Rowena’s Bandwagon of Crazy and say the mistletoe wasn’t a bad idea.

“Y’know, it’s not a bad idea,” began Sam. “And besides, it’s festive.” The giant moose shrugged. “It won’t hurt anything, as long as nobody decides to taste it, and it’s potentially helpful against Evil.”

“Well, it didn’t keep Rowena out. Or that 10-foot-tall green monstrosity in the library,” Dean countered.

“Rowena isn’t evil anymore, Dean. She’s been very helpful and you know it. And that’s a Christmas tree. You even helped decorate it.” Dean’s moose of a brother reminded him. “I especially like the angel tree topper with Castiel’s face pasted on. Any idea where THAT came from?”

Dean studied the floor, feet shuffling, and pretended he wasn’t blushing. Sam pretended he wasn’t noticing. He cleared his throat and continued.

“And anyway, Dean — why are you being such a Grinch? You’re the one who was always all gung-ho about Christmas when we were kids. Even when we had no reason to celebrate, you were always trying to get me excited about it. Besides, Jack loves it, and you agreed: we should all try to make Christmas nice for him.”

“Shut up and pour the damn eggnog before Jody and the girls get here. And don’t skimp on the rum this time,” the older Winchester changed the subject abruptly. Dean grumped off in search of someone to agree with him. Good thing he didn’t hold his breath.

**********

In Dean’s opinion, Jack was totally outta his mind crazy about the whole mistletoe thing. He went a bit psycho with Kissing People – any people – anyone at all – under it. The Apocalypse World hunters had mostly relocated to places of their own by now, so there were only ever a few of them around at any given time, coming by to check in with Chief, or re-up their  supplies. Occasionally friends and fellow hunters they’d known forever stopped in. Whoever was there at any particular moment was apparently considered fair game by Jack. He’d taken to lurking in proximity of mistletoe, in hopes of jumping under the greenery just in time to meet someone under it. He’d flash them a huge smile and give ‘em a fast & friendly kiss on the cheek. Everyone just went along with it and laughed with Jack afterward. The kid’s joy was contagious.

During Jack’s first day of Decking the Halls, Jack surprised the crap outta Dean with a guerilla-attack mistletoe-kiss and garnered a “What the hell, kid?” in reaction. Jack’s crushed countenance while looking up at the mistletoe in confusion made Dean take a step back and apologize.  He’d then hugged Jack and given the boy a quick fatherly peck on the forehead . Heck, it wasn’t even as if there was anyone else around to see, so no big deal, right?

In the next few days, to his own amazement, Dean had started giving spontaneous Doorway-Bro-Hugs, and even the occasional Completely Manly and Not Girly at All kiss on the forehead to anyone who wasn’t eighteen feet tall. So, Sammy just got a lot of hugs. Who could even reach that forehead for a kiss, anyway?

When Dean hugged Cas for the third time, he quickly (but shyly) kissed the angel just above his left eye. Cas responded by “booping” Dean on the nose, grinning widely as he did. Dean turned as red as the bow on the mistletoe above them. After that, Dean went with just the hug, while Cas surreptitiously kissed him on his cheek, or ear, or his shoulder – wherever his mouth was closest to while Dean held him tight for another extended hug. If anyone noticed that Dean/Cas hugs lasted for a much longer time than anyone else’s, they said nothing. At least, not around Dean or Cas.

On one of the increasingly more frequent times when Rowena found a reason to be around, she seemed to always be passing through doorways at the same exact time as Sam or Cas with uncanny frequency. And of course, her kisses were smack on the mouth and somewhat...thorough. While Sam didn’t seem to mind her kisses AT ALL, Cas reverted to the Awkward Angel the Winchesters had first met, and usually took to standing in Dean’s personal space or hiding in a locked room whenever Rowena was in the bunker. The witch knew better than to attempt any such shenanigans with Dean.

Everyone who was around the Winchesters long enough had learned what a great cook Dean was. Of course, he made killer burgers and steaks, but after years of making do in motel kitchenettes just to keep Sammy and himself fed while Dad was hunting, Dean could work some serious mojo when he had a Real Kitchen. Those motels had never had an oven, so Dean had never learned to bake anything. Not even a freakin’ pie.

So, Dean decided that part of a “nice Christmas for Jack” should include a few kinds of made-from-scratch Christmas cookies and at least two kinds of pie. Because, PIE, am I right? Jack eagerly became Dean’s apprentice pastry chef as they learned together, researching Baking Basics and Christmas Cookie recipes, leaving the usual monster lore to Sam. Once Dean mastered pie crusts, there was no stopping him. In addition to the cookies, Dean produced a different kind of pie every day. There had never been so many sweets in the bunker at one time.

And where there are sweets, one should never be surprised to find a Trickster.

Two days before Christmas, Sam ran smack into Gabriel, who was coming out of the kitchen, his mouth full of Christmas cookies. Gabriel fumbled for a minute keep hold of the half-gone pecan pie in his hands. He’d clearly found the aerosol can of whipped cream in the fridge, as it was generously covered in perfect peaks of fluffiness.

“Hey, Samshine!” the Apparently Not Dead Archangel greeted with a snarky grin.

In the next moment, something rare occurred. Something rarer than resurrection of the dead, at least when Winchesters were concerned.

Sam Winchester was speechless for two entire minutes.

Then he began to sputter about “But You Died” and “I saw Michael kill you” and “Apocalypse World” before grabbing the short angel in a fierce hug, lifting him off his feet like he weighed nothing. “How are you here?”

Somehow the pie was still balanced in the archangel’s hand.

Smirking, Gabriel replied, “Hashtag Not Dead.”

Sam rolled his eyes but couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he set Gabe back on the floor. “Well. Obviously. But HOW? You died. In another dimension.”

“A trickster never tells, dude. Don’t look a gift archangel in the mouth,” Gabriel grinned.

He looked up as if only just now noticing the mistletoe above their heads.

The pecan pie dropped to the floor, somehow right-side up and intact, the whipped cream on top still looking perfect.

“Pucker up, Samsquatch.”

[itsmeglendaloraine]

There is Glory in Worry

Ever since I suffered and went through a lot with anxiety, that was then I appreciated and took over my mental well-being. Of all these years, mental health is an important cause that is mostly stigmatized by many people. I admit I was one of those people. I thought it was totally normal to worry until I cannot breathe anymore or wake up at 2 AM crying for no apparent reason. Until I went through it, I now understood and committed myself to medication and knowledge on that cause. I’m no expert but what I will be sharing with you is from experience which is for countless times, the best teacher.

I went to a psychiatrist for a time, underwent medication for a time but what made me elevate from those painful and hard times is my commitment and dedication to making myself better. Something was wrong with me and I know I had to change some things to not feel that bad. I learned to exercise regularly, had to let go of bad and toxic habits and people in my life, changed some routines, and followed a discipline to train my mind to live peacefully and happily. And alas! I am never been better than before. It was totally life-changing. But mind you, it did not happen overnight. Before I was able to say that I feel better and am better, there were a lot of panic attacks, nights and days when I slept less or too much, the indescribable fear of going out of my room and talk to people, and the thought of cutting my own life. Yes! I thought of suicide. And in between those nights, I woke up at one. It was 2 AM and I cannot breathe. I was so afraid and thought I was dying that I cried just to feel myself better. I don’t know how I went back to sleep that night but that was the night that I decided that I really need to do something. Because something is wrong with me.

Before that night, I started to feel tired, uninspired, unmotivated, and lonely. Later on, I began questioning myself why and then God. I kept on praying but there was no answer. My prayers became so empty and I was praying just for the sake of it but my heart and mind were not with my prayer. It seems that everything in my body and me is uncoordinated. But then, I kept living like that for two months, trying hard to fight the struggles that are in me and mostly in my head. It was manageable for the first few weeks until I had a hard time going to sleep or get out of bed to get the day done.

I was alone at that time. Living in a place that is out of my comfort zone. I thought it was just part of the adjustment period but it was not. After that terrible night, I decided to go home. But, I did not confide at the instant. It was hard! It was hard to tell people even those who are closest to me that I am not well. I started to see a doctor and I was treated initially. I was given sleeping pills and boy! I needed those for that time. I was thankful of the prescription for I was able to sleep but I was not content. So, I went to a psychiatrist. I know there is an issue mentally that a general doctor cannot help me.

And the day came when I finally dared to go to the psychiatrist. I remember I was standing there outside of the clinic’s door struggling to go in and talk to the person on the front desk that I will book an appointment. That very simple act was so hard for me to do because there a lot that is going on in my mind. I am scared to know what is wrong with me, I am not comfortable to have myself be checked by a doctor which is a total stranger, and many others.

The day of the appointment came. It was the most terrifying experience I had. I struggled to open up which led to an incomplete diagnosis. I hated the doctors. I hated all doctors that I talked to during that time. There was no problem with them. The problem was with me. I was in denial. I played tough. I put on a poker face. I was proud. I was hungry for answers. I wanted answers right away and I got frustrated because I did not have them.

“What is wrong with me?” I kept on asking myself while crying. I was crying out of frustration and disappointment.

And months went by, I was just lurking in my room, doing nothing all the times, sleeping perhaps. I was always lacking energy. I stopped from what I was doing. I left all my commitments. I shut myself out. I never opened my social media accounts, I did not answer text messages and phone calls. My phone was off all the time. I was unreachable. I felt so lonely I cannot explain.  But during those very trying times, there were people who never left me even if I am distant from them: my family and my boyfriend. Thank God for them. They were my savior.

Eventually, I gained my strength. I diverted my attention to cooking, baking, gardening, jogging, and reading books. Slowly I accepted my situation. I had recognized what I was feeling. I went back to my doctors to do the follow-up check-ups. Day by day, I feel better. I tried to pick up the things I left…on each pace to get back on track. I faced my demons. I learned to pour my heart out while praying. I surrendered everything to God and asked Him to heal me.

The next year after that, I decided to go back to work. Slowly I was facing my fears and deal with them. Enough of running away and feeling scared. I became better. And I know I am not the same person anymore. I prayed for courage to share my story to help people who are maybe going through the same struggles. This is one of my way of sharing and so I hope this will reach you.

I am better now. Done with the medication and doctor’s appointments. There are still hard and difficult times when I tend to fall back to that trap. But I now know how to train my mind…trying to. But somehow, it worked. Anxiety will not totally be gone. It is always there. It’s just that now, I know how to deal with it.

I am very much grateful that we now live in a world that there are more people who are brave enough to talk about their struggles. The issue of mental health is advocated more than the previous generations. That is something to celebrate. But there is more to be done. And I hope that more people will commit to take full control of their mental health and well-being, more people will be able to get help and be treated and more and more people are compassionate and kind enough to help those people who are struggling.

I can share more but for now, let me stop on this point. I hope my story inspires you and gives you hope. That is my pure intention in writing this. I hope this reaches you. To you who are struggling and feels hopeless. Know that you are not alone and that there is glory in what you’re going through right now. Whatever it is that you are struggling with right now, keep on fighting your fight! Win it! Somewhere out there, there is someone who is cheering for you.

Do not lose hope. Keep holding on to it no matter how little it gets. Enough with the darkness. Come celebrate life in love and light!

Praying for you, dear friend.

[writerly-blonde]

Night Terrors

Summary:  After nearly a year of being Ladybug, Marinette thought she has the superhero thing down. That was before the nightmares started. She and Chat Noir find themselves on the Eiffel Tower where they finally have a talk about their sleepless nights.

WR: 2,826

Find it on AO3!

Enjoy! ~~~

Marinette jolts up in her bed, mouth ajar in frozen terror. A scream builds in her throat as she darts a glance around. She searches for the bodies, the blood, the akuma with a wicked grin stalking towards her. But with the moonlight illuminating her normal, if not messy, room, she slowly comes to terms with the fact that it was merely a dream.

Marinette collapses against her bedframe. Tries to steady her racing heart. Her breaths come out as sharp pants, breaking the peaceful silence of an otherwise normal night. She wraps an arm around herself. Just a nightmare. It was just a nightmare.

But logically knowing that doesn’t vanquish the phantom fingers clutching at her throat. The blood splattered across her hands. Marinette swallows back a scream. Swallows back the bile and the outrage and the terror. It does nothing to stop the tears. The water burns her eyes; blurring the shadows until they once again look like formless monsters.

Marinette bites down on her fist to muffle the sobs. Shuts her eyes tight and tries to stay calm. Tries to pretend that she isn’t shuddering so hard that the bed shakes under her. Tries to stay quiet, tries to pretend that she’s okay, that it was just a dream. It wasn’t real.

“Mari?” Tikki’s sleepy voice pauses her sobs. There’s a sigh and then the kwami flies up and puts her small hands to Marinette’s cheeks. She wipes away the tears. “That’s the third time this week.”

Marinette’s lips twist in an effort to stop another sob. When she does manage to speak, it’s hardly more than a broken whisper. “I know.”

“Oh Marinette,” Tikki says, pressing their foreheads together, “Brave, brave girl.”

“I-I’m okay.” Marinette tries for a smile, if only to ease Tikki’s worry, “Besides, if…if it keeps up at-at least I’ll be used to it, right?”

She holds the smile for a half second longer before the sobs come back full force. Just another thing she can’t control. Another thing that takes her for a ride and tugs her along and spins her around until she can’t get her bearings, until she can’t focus, until she can’t do anything, until she’s helpless, and what if she’s like this against an akuma and what if she’s helpless, what if she can’t control-

“Marinette. Take a breath.”

She does.

“Another one.”

She nods. Takes another. And another. Breath in, breath out. In, out, in, out. One thing she can control. Marinette isn’t sure how long they stay there, listening to her regulate her breathing, but by the time Marinette has calmed down, her leg is cramping.

Marinette’s tears have finally stopped. They’ve dried into tracks that tighten her skin in odd ways; a physical reminder of her weakness. She pulls away from Tikki. Mutters a thank you. Third time this week she’s woken Tikki up.

She whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Tikki says, “It’s-”

“Tikki?”

“Yes?”

“I…I just need to clear my head,” Marinette doesn’t need to finish her thought; they’ve done this enough times by now. “Spots on.”

The Ladybug suit feels like a second skin, a thin armor. In it, she can pretend that the shadows are just shadows, that she doesn’t see monsters in them. That her room doesn’t feel very, very small. That she feels trapped in it the longer she stays, that the shadows don’t seem to stretch towards her.

Marinette is outside in a single step. Cold, biting, night air cuts across her cheeks. It has nothing on the chills already crawling down her spine. She tries not to think, instead letting her body simply wander. The city lights dance across her skin, painting a tragic scene of their broken hero aglow against the night.

Marinette keeps swinging, flying, falling, crying, and drying her tears, until she reaches the Eiffel Tower. It’s late enough that the lights are off, but that’s how she prefers it. The shadows here aren’t oppressing or nightmarish; they offer her a place to disappear.

She sinks down, tugging her knees to her chest. Here, so far away from her room and so far above any bystanders, she begins to calm. It was just a dream. Just another nightmare. She can handle this; she has before. It doesn’t make this any easier, though.

Marinette had thought that she was getting the hang of this Protector of Paris thing. And she was. She was managing the late nights, the excuses, the stress, the double life, all of it just fine. She had Chat Noir, Tikki, and freedom.

And then a couple months in, the nightmares started. The excuses turned to lies that suffocated her. The late nights became sleepless ones. Monsters began to lurk in every corner, in the whispers of conversations, in the hits civilians barely dodged, in the sudden way an akuma could appear. Marinette had forgotten of a time where she could relax during the day; now it felt like she had to brace herself constantly. Paranoid. She was paranoid.

Marinette sighs. Buries her face in her arms. She will be okay. She has to be okay. She has school tomorrow, and inevitably an akuma, and she is no use to anyone tired. She has a test she didn’t study for, but she probably can pass if she doesn’t fall asleep mid question, and Alya will get worried again and if an akuma does come by, if she isn’t awake someone can get hurt and what if she can’t fix it? What if she stands there while her nightmares come true, as paralyzed as she is in her dreams?

“LB?”

Marinette nearly jumps out of her skin. She’s up on her feet in a moment, yoyo already in her hand. She’s taken a step forward, ready to fight, before the owner of the voice dawns on her. Chat has backed away from her, hands up protectively.

She deflates. Is this how wired she’s been? Crazed enough to make her closest friend think she’d attack? That she would have had she not paid attention? The yoyo falls at her side. “I’m sorry.”

Chat relaxes. Shoots her a hesitant, reassuring smile which quickly fades to concern. “Why’re you out this late?”

Marinette sits back down. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Me too.”

As he settles in next to her, close enough for her to feel his warmth, but far away enough for her to breathe, she does something she didn’t think she would do tonight. She relaxes. When the possibility of an akuma bears down on you every second of every day, having someone by your side makes it easier. Knowing Chat is here, ready to help her tackle whatever monster, whatever akuma, makes her feel safer than she has in a couple days. She almost starts crying right then and there.

Instead, she clears her throat and says, “We do this a lot, don’t we?”

He chuckles, though there’s very little humor in the sound. “Yeah. We do.”

“It’s nice.” Out of the corner of her eye, Marinette sees him jerk in surprise. She raises an eyebrow. “It’s not for you?”

“No, no, it is, it’s unbelievably comforting, I just always thought-”

“Chat, having you here,” Marinette, apparently not fully recovered as tears make their grand reappearance, because what if he wasn’t here, “makes it a bit easier.”

He’s at her side in a second. Screw the distance, he seems to say as he tugs her against him. Wraps her in a hug that’s loose enough for her to pull away but god no. Marinette has had too many nights of crying by herself. Of leaving before Chat can see the tears. Of the half lies and the excuses and how they make a web that she gets caught, a noose she hangs herself in, she’s tired and he’s warm and there and her best friend and damn everything, so she moves closer. Leans her head against the crook of his neck and shoulder. Clings to him as he holds her steady.

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay,” he whispers in her hair, “It’s okay.”

It really isn’t. Maybe it will be in the morning, when her nightmares seem like a world away, but not right now. Right now she can’t stop the tears from flowing, can’t stop herself shaking. She can’t help but wrap her arms around him because what if she lets go and he disappears? What if she lets go and tomorrow he won’t be there? What if her nightmares are right?

Chat whispers tiny phrases, things that mean nothing but are more comforting than they should be. He holds her tighter. Waits for the tears to slow, for the sobs to shudder into unsteady breaths. He holds her until she feels a bit steadier.

“It’ll be okay. Just keep breathing Ladybug. Deep breaths.”

Slowly, Marinette remembers herself. She’s awake. Paris is asleep; calm and peaceful with its ever flickering lights. Chat is still here. And she’s just dissolved into a hot mess on him for who knows how long. Marinette clears her throat and gently untangles herself. She has to be better than this.

Chat’s hands follow her, unwilling to let her pull away. His fingers gently press against her jaw, guiding her gaze back to his. “It’s okay to break.”

Marinette should shrug away his touch. She shouldn’t be here. He’s a flirt, he could take this the wrong way, she is stronger than this…and none of those things are true. So she stays still. And in his gaze, her own brokenness shines back.

Maybe it’s because she’s so far away from her house, her life, from the girl she tries to be during the daytime, maybe it’s because she’s so far away from the akumas, from the girls she tries to be at night, maybe it’s because she’s in an untouchable middle ground that she finds herself whispering, “I’m scared, Chat.”

“I know. Me too.”

“The nightmares…they…”

“They don’t really stop.”

Marinette takes a shuddering breath. And after months of skirting around what truly has them seeking the Eiffel Tower as shelter, she finally asks, “What are your nightmares of?”

His hand falls from her face. Chat seems to draw into himself. The air around them chills and Marinette wishes she could pluck her words back from the breeze.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“I don’t call them nightmares.”

Marinette’s words wither in her throat. Chat meets her gaze for a fraction of a second before he turns back out towards the city. Talking to the wind.

“They’re night terrors. That’s the only thing that actually describes them. Terrors that haunt me during the day and night. So many what ifs. So many things that can go wrong. I dream a lot about my friends. I’m bad luck incarnate remember? ….One day that’s going to catch up to me.”

Chat shivers, eyes turning glassy. Marinette reaches over, resting her hand over his. Though he doesn’t look at her, his fingers squeeze hers before he continues.

“And a lot of them are about Hawkmoth. What if we don’t defeat him? What happens then? We just keep fighting for the rest of our lives until we turn it over to another pair of kids? Or even worse…”

Chat finally looks at her. “What if we do? What happens if we defeat him? What happens to us? I don’t have much besides being Chat Noir. I can be myself without worries, what happens if that’s gone? Or, what if it never ends? The paranoia, the villains, the pressure and civilians and responsibility. What if the nightmares never end?”

He swallows thickly, gaze jerking back to the city. “But most of all, I dream of the akumas. Of the attacks. That maybe one day my suit won’t absorb all of the damage. That an akuma will attack and I won’t be there. A blast meant for me will fall on you or a civilian. It could be as simple as me not getting there in time and seeing you fall. I know our dynamic. I’m the protector.” His hand grips hers. “The fact that there might come a day when I fail terrifies me.”

For the first time that night, Marinette can’t form a complete thought. Every time she tries, it breaks off, sparking into ash. Instead, she scoots closer to him. Letting herself press against him, thighs to shoulders. Chat doesn’t react. He’s too lost in thought and possibilities to even notice.

Marinette’s mouth goes dry. She closes her eyes and takes a breath, swearing that she’ll make it through this without crying. If he could, she can.

“My nightmares are monsters. Shadows. Inescapable. What if I fail? What if I’m not good enough and someone suffers because of it? What if an akuma is too powerful and I can’t fix it? The worst part…is that I don’t think I could come back from that. If someone died…I’d break. Shatter. Ladybug wouldn’t be the protector of Paris anymore because the girl behind the mask would be wondering why it wasn’t her. She’s the indestructible one.”

Marinette feels Chat turn to her, feels his steady gaze fall on her but she can’t bring herself to open her eyes. Not yet.

“My nightmares are like yours. Makes sense, same responsibilities and all that. But…I dream of bodies. Bodies upon bodies piling up with blood on my hands. I dream of your suit turning white and a purple outline across your face. What if I can’t save you? What if you’re lost to me forever because I failed? What if…”

Marinette clutches Chat’s hand like a lifeline. “What if an akuma attacks one day and you’re not there?”

Silence greets her. It’s not suffocating, or overwhelming, it doesn’t fill Marinette with what ifs or fears that she said the wrong thing, it’s simply silence. He squeezes her hand as they sit, each soaking in the other’s story.

Time skates by, seconds seamlessly sliding into minutes. Their legs dangle over the edge, sometimes bumping into each other. Eventually, Chat looks up. Sighing, he leans back, laying across the roof. His gaze devours the sky whole and what little stars there are shine in impossibly green eyes.

Marinette follows him. She lays down, looking up at a speckled sky.

Chat takes a shaky breath. “Do you think we’ll get used to the paranoia?”

She tilts her head up, heart breaking at the braced expression on his face. “I don’t know.” She can’t bring herself to lie. “I hope so. But…”

“Yeah. I know. Every time someone gets mad around me, I tense.”

Marinette laughs, the sound hollow. “Me too. I keep scanning for places to transform. I hardly have enough energy to pay attention to lessons. If it weren’t for my friends, I’d be even worse off.”

Chat closes his eyes. Untangles his fingers from hers. “Sometimes I wish….I wish you were there. It’d make it easier.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Marinette can’t bring herself to look at him. What if he saw that she wanted the same? “There are a thousand reasons but they all seem like excuses.” She rubs at her face. “Fear makes us do stupid things.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” He sighs. “I’m scared too.”

Marinette reaches for his hand. Maybe it’s stupid, but it feel right. She intertwines their fingers once again. Presses a soft kiss to his knuckles. “One day.”

Chat nods. “One day,” he echoes. And for now, for both of them, it’s good enough. A couple seconds pass before Chat turns his head. “What constellations do you think there are?”

She shrugs. “Probably one in the shape of a plane.”

That earns her a laugh and with it, the tension curled in her body releases. If Chat can still laugh, maybe they’ll be okay. For a while, they stay like that. Legs dangling, eyes watching, hands still intertwined. For a while, the shadows, the monsters, the fear, all of it can’t reach them.

Marinette yawns. She rests her head on Chat’s shoulder, lightly enough that he can pull away if he wants. Instead, he lets go of her hand, only to wrap his arm around her. His head tilts, leaning against hers.

And logically, Marinette knows that she shouldn’t fall asleep, that she’ll have to get up eventually, but it’s been many days since she’s properly slept, since she’s felt this safe. Like everything will be okay. She doesn’t want to let go of it just yet.

So, Marinette lets her eyes drift shut.

“Ladybug?”

“Yeah Chat?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Marinette holds him a little tighter, finally realizing how badly she needed to hear that. “Neither am I.”

Chat stills under her and it’s a long moment before she feels him sigh in relief.

“…Goodnight bugaboo.”

“Goodnight mon minou.”

*****

There, on the Eiffel Tower, high above the city, the Protectors of Paris finally sleep in peace.

[tatooine92]

Homeward, ch. 5 (POTC OC)

Synopsis: Eleven years ago, Adonia Barbossa was abandoned as a child by her father for no discernible reason. Now a pirate captain in her own right, she seeks him to finally demand answers.

Rating: T for language and any various and sundry innuendoes.

A/N: Fun fact--this is the longest chapter so far! It’s about twice as long as any of the previous ones. There was a lot to get through. Plus I got a lot of time to play with Thom the bosun. And use some more of Jim’s French. And introduce... The Big Bad.

Shoutouts: @soulventure91, @and-will-nice-hat

The first boarders to come over from the EITC ship were met with the echoing crack of pistol fire and the shing of angry steel. A half-dozen Company marines fell before they even had a chance to form up and fire on the pirates. In fact, they barely had a chance now, as Adonia's men rushed them, blades drawn, howling curses. Swords met bayonets with clangs like a broken church bell. Adonia lunged for the closest officer, a nondescript bewigged man wearing the blue and gold coat of the Company. She raised her cutlass to slash down across his collar bone, but he whirled, sword raised, to block her attack. The officer froze, immediately, his brown eyes wide with recognition, though for Adonia the memory of his face was faint, the way a dream became hazy upon waking.

"Captain Barbossa!" he gasped. His voice was warm and smooth with a proper gentleman's accent.

Adonia squinted at him. The cut of his jaw and the tone of his voice were... familiar... She knew she'd seen him before, but she'd never met a Company officer before, nor did she particularly enjoy the experience right now.

"Have we met?"

The officer opened his mouth to respond when a gunshot ripped through the air. Adonia yelped as it the shot tore into her shoulder, and she whirled away to fold in on herself, cutlass falling to the deck. The officer she'd almost killed rushed to her side, a hand on her back, and she shrugged him off, the heel of her palm pressed into the gaping wound. She heard Jim yell out "Capitaine!" before marines surrounded her, separating him from her. Adonia looked up to see a swarm of marines had flooded her deck, holding her men at gunpoint. Damn it!

"What a delightful buccaneer greeting," called a clipped voice from the other side of the deck.

Adonia turned, nostrils flaring with sharp breaths, to see Cutler Beckett striding onto her ship as if he owned it, hands tucked in the small of his back. His brown frock coat fluttered in the sea wind as he looked around, chin raised just enough to give him the appearance of leering at everything. Adonia forced herself to stand upright despite the fire ripping through her shoulder. She was a noticeable two or three inches taller than Beckett when he finally stood before her, his eyes narrowed with cold calculation and disdain.

"Is it yer custom, Mister Beckett, to fire upon any passin' ship which strikes your fancy?"

"It's Lord Beckett, actually," he sniffed, "and no, I'm quite selective. Which is why your little boat, Miss Barbossa, has sailed right into my harbor."

"It's Captain Barbossa, actually," Adonia growled in reply. Beckett gave her a tight-lipped smile.

"Of course. My error. How ever do you keep from being confused with your father, my, my." Beckett paced around her toward the deck rail to inspect the fallen mainmast. "He is why you're here, after all, is it not? A long-lost daughter seeking her elusive father, I believe?"

"I'm here because there are still parts of the ocean for free pirates to sail."

"Is that so? Hm. Odd, because I have a friend in Tortuga who was very adamant that you lapped up his information and were quite eager to be on your way here."

Avery. Adonia's eyes narrowed. That gutless, recreant bastard. She should have known. He was so quick to pass on vague information, and she latched onto it without her usual efforts to check authenticity. She had always been so careful, verging on cunning, but the one time her emotions leaped leagues ahead of her brain, look at the cost. Her ship, crippled; her men, captured. Never mind her own wound, blood oozing from the gash despite her attempts to hold her arm immobile. She leaned toward Beckett, eyes afire. A pair of bayonetted rifles crossed between them, keeping her back.

"Tell your traitorous swine of a confidant," she hissed, "that the next time I am in Tortuga, I'll be sendin' him to the depths myself, and I'll keep his tavern as recompense."  

Beckett sniffed. He took a step back as if to make it less apparent that he had to look up to meet her eyes.

"I would, except it is most unfortunate that you will be unable to exact your vengeance," he said. "You may not have noticed, captain, but I have taken your ship."

"What! No. I thought ye'd come over for tea."

Beckett's lips twitched as if contemplating a smirk. Adonia's face was unmoved, stone-cold and angry despite her sardonic utterances. This insolent twat thought he could take all he wanted on both land and sea? Adonia's nature was to fight and resist, but part of her was scared because she knew, deep down, that Beckett could do it. She looked past him at her crew. They were her responsibility, not her pride, not her sarcasm. She had to keep them safe.

"Fine then," she spat before Beckett could speak. "What d'ye want?"

"I have reliable information indicating that the Brethren Court plans to convene," Beckett said, "and your father, as I'm sure you know, is one of the pirate lords of the Court."

"Aye, but that hardly has a thing to do with me." Papa a pirate lord? Since when?

"Does it not? Perhaps I was mistaken. I assumed in your eagerness to locate him you would accept any opportunity to do so. And I'd hoped that he might return your sentiments and be equally eager to locate you. If that's not the case, then there's no reason to continue this conversation."

Beckett turned to go, and Adonia's gut dropped. No, no, she had to keep him talking, keep bargaining. Otherwise he'd broadside her little brig and it'd all be over. She wasn't going to do that to her crew. They trusted her. She looked at them and saw the panic lurking in their eyes, hidden by their stoic expressions.

"Lord Beckett!" She took a lunging step forward. The officer was immediately behind her, and the rifles crossed before her again, but she shouldered past them. She saw Beckett pause and continued toward him. "Ye've not explained your plan, milord. I can hardly come aboard if I can't find the ship you're sailing."

When Beckett turned to her with his calculating little smile, Adonia knew she was trapped. He had her cornered, like a kitten surrounded by hounds. She could hiss and arch her spine all day, but he had bigger claws and teeth right now. Perhaps he had never intended to open fire on her ship. He just wanted her to do exactly as she had done. Damn him!

"My plan, captain, is to rid these waters of piracy and make way for progress, as I am sure you have no doubt already observed. However, to effect this goal, I must know where the Brethren plan to meet. If you possess that information, I pray you, share it now and save me some precious time."

"...I do not," Adonia said.

It was entirely truthful. She had already been taken by surprise with Beckett's information that her father was a pirate lord. He must have been one already when she was with him, or else obtained the title after she was gone. If he had already been one, was that why he called her his sea princess? She knew nothing of the function or dealings of the Brethren Court; she had only ever heard the name, whispered as a relic from past ages. Did that make her pirate royalty? What a foolish, childish thought to entertain, especially now, here, with her and her crew's lives at stake! Yet there it was, lingering in the back of her mind, hungry for acknowledgment. With a title like that, she could be a person of quality, not just a common thief.

"That's unfortunate," Beckett quipped. "Ah, well. I'll continue with the rest of my arrangements, then, which do, in fact, include you. I cannot think of a father alive who would not go to great lengths to ensure his daughter's safety—or, in fact, any father at all, but that's neither here nor there...

"The point remains, captain, that your father, distant though he apparently is, will not be able to resist the lure to rescue you from my clutches the very moment he hears I have you. Then you shall receive the family reunion you so desperately crave—enough to accept information at face value, I see—and I shall receive the location of the Brethren Court.

"Therefore," Beckett went on, raising his voice to be audible by all, "you and your crew are hereby pressed into the service of the East India Trading Company, and your ship shall sail as my personal escort, to be captained by you as I order you to captain it."

Chills raced down Adonia's spine. Her crew broke out in roars of defiance and revulsion as they heard him, but she said nothing. Press-ganged to be bait for her father—nay, for the entire Brethren Court. She wanted to laugh and spit in Beckett's face and bark that her father would never come for her, that he had abandoned her to the seas over a decade ago and he'd not come back for her now. But she knew if she did, she would be signing her crew's death warrants. She'd not do that to them. No decent captain, no captain worth following, did that to his crew. She would not be doing it to hers.

"Don't do it, mon capitaine!" Jim yelled to her from where he was restrained. Adonia saw shackles clamped around his wrists and fumed. Jim had already come from chains; he would not go back to them under her watch.

"Fuck 'im and his orders!" Thom shouted too. "Rather we all die here than sail wit' his lot!"

"Do you agree with your crewmen, capitaine?" Beckett asked her, clipped and sneering. "Would you prefer death to my employ? That can be arranged, believe me."

Adonia looked at her crew again, helpless. Pain throbbed through her shoulder from the still-embedded bullet, but that was not why hot tears stung her eyes. At her side, she heard the officer with the brown eyes inhale slowly, as if discomfited by the situation. Part of her desperately wanted to break the tension of the moment and turn to him with glinting eyes and an easy smirk and ask "Your face seems all rather familiar; I'd not soon forget something so handsome," if only to relieve herself of this agony. Die here by sword and rifle and cannonade, or swear to sail, living physically but dying in spirit?

No, she thought, this bastard does not get the luxury of owning my spirit. I survive. It's what I do. And if he thinks I'll not fight to free myself, he doesn't know me half as well as he likes to pretend.

"What becomes of my crew, my ship, and me once you have the Brethren?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice steady in the face of her terrified men.

"Well," Beckett said with a slow smile, "that depends entirely on your performance—and your loyalty. I am not without mercy, captain; I reward those who serve well."

"...aye," Adonia said. "Ye'll not find a better crew in these waters. But if we're to serve then I demand a say in our treatment. If we're to be your bait for that father of mine, then I'll not have your men aboard my ship."

"You expect me to simply trust you? When pirates are so notoriously fickle with their loyalties?"

"Yes, and you know I'll scuttle this ship before you can take her if you don't trust me."

"You're hardly irreplaceable, you know."

"Am I? The daughter of a pirate lord, irreplaceable?" Adonia shifted her weight and squared her shoulders, lifting her chin. "So you'd prefer my father come down upon ye with fury and all hell to avenge my loss, rather than fall so neatly into your hands? Well, if there can be no agreeing between us, I suppose there's naught I can say."

"Your point is well taken," Beckett snipped. He drew in a long inhale, as if buying himself time to ponder. "Very well. My men will stay aboard your ship until it has been repaired and then take their leave. Is that your only condition?"

"Ye'll not replace a single man of my crew with one of your own, but neither will we be treated as second-class sailors. The Dainty Lass is your bodyguard; we won't be treated as trophies or slaves. Furthermore, if you fire upon my father's ship before I as much as yell hello to him, I'll come aboard your ship and blow a hole in your skull. Do we have an accord?"

"You drive a hard bargain." Sarcasm dripped down his words like water off a gutter. "But yes, agreed. None of that will happen."

Adonia stuck out her hand to shake on it, and when Beckett gripped her palm, he shook just hard enough to make fresh pain spike through her shoulder. She grimaced but tried, too slowly, to hide it. Beckett gave her a cool smile as he turned to take his leave.

"Lieutenant Groves," he said to the brown-eyed officer, "see that this ship is set to rights."

"Yes, sir," Groves said. Groves, Groves—where do I know that name? He looked at Adonia with an almost sorrowful gaze before turning to order his cadre of marines and some Company sailors to action. "Step to, men! Haul up the rigging out of the water and prepare tow lines!"

Then he was gone, and Adonia inched away, shaking as she headed for the wheel despite being unable to do anything with it. When she reached the wheel, she slumped down against its housing, holding her shoulder and fighting tears. Maybe it would've been better if I'd had us all killed.

Footsteps on the deck boards made her turn her head without looking up. She knew she sound of Jim's boots, and she figured Thom was right behind him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to them. She turned away, trying not to let them see her tears. They needed a strong captain, not one who was so easily cowed and who sat crying from pain. "You'd rather us all die than submit but—the ship—the men—I can't—"

"Hush up, capitaine," Jim chided her. "You're lettin' that bullet do the talking for you, here, let's see it."

He crouched beside her and took her arm, peeling back her coat, vest, and blouse to get a look at it. He tsked softly.

"Thom, fetch up the cap'n's kit," he said, and Thom was gone without a word.

The Lass's small crew often wore many hats. They were too few to have a dedicated barber and surgeon, so Jim often did his best. Under a previous captain, Adonia, too, had received rudimentary training in medicine, enough to remove bullets and patch up cuts. She and Jim shared the toolkit Thom had just gone to retrieve. She bit her lip as Jim prodded at the bloody hole in her shoulder.

"Doesn't seem too deep," he said. "Don't think anything's broken."

"No," Adonia said, her voice barely above a whisper. She took a deep breath and tried to force her way through the haze of confusion and throbbing pain. What have I done to my crew? Have I just delayed their deaths to another day? "It was just enough to stop me, not to really harm me. Really fucking hurts, all the same."

"Well, you did always have a low pain tolerance, n'est-ce pas?" Jim chuckled softly, a deep rumble in his chest, and Adonia smirked.

"Yes, yes, I'm weak," she said just as Jim returned with both the toolkit and a bottle of rum. He pressed the rum into her hands—she glared at it with disdain but popped the cork stopper and took a long swig to dull the ache in her shoulder—and the kit into Jim's. Then he crouched nearby to keep an eye out.

"That all's not what I'd've done, cap'n," he noted. He sighed and ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. "I'd've scuttled us."

"I know it, Thom. But I was not about to watch the lot of you die and have it be my fault. Even if I died with you, I couldn't live out me final moments like that." Adonia took another gulp of rum and grimaced as it burned down her throat. "Why don't we have wine on this ship... "

"Next port," Jim noted as he selected the tools for his work. "Hold still."

Just as he got to work—prodding inside the wound with a metal tool to fully locate the bullet—and Adonia closed her eyes so she didn't have to watch, Lieutenant Groves came up from the main deck.

"Captain Barbossa, the ship is—ah, ma'am, I'd be happy to take you across to the Endeavour for the ship's surgeon to help..."

"Jim's got it covered, lieutenant, thank you." She cracked one eye open, then both, to look at him. "We've met, aye?"

"Yes, we—we have." Good God, is he blushing? Whatever for? "Port Royal, about three years ago."

The memory surged in her mind as his face and voice fully clicked into place, and she laughed hard enough that Jim growled at her to sit still and shut up. She took a third swig of rum (better stop, though, or else she'd be good for naught).  

"And how," she chuckled, "are your shirts, lieutenant?"

Thom looked at her like she'd lost her mind. Jim rolled his eyes and sighed. Groves noticeably blushed and fidgeted with the large gold cuff of his coat.

"Just fine, thank you," he muttered. He cleared his throat and ducked his head. "Excuse me, I'll... leave you to your cure."

With that, he was gone, and Adonia leaned her head back, warmed through by the rum (despite the pain from Jim's surgery) and amused despite the day's terrors.

"...shirts?" Thom asked, a brow arched. Adonia grinned at him with the tense, tight smile of pain tempered by humor.

"I'll tell ye when you're older, laddie," she mocked with a bad impression of his brogue.

"Fuck you, cap'n," he snorted, though he gave her a smirk and a wink as he got up to get back to work.

"Aye, and same to you, bosun. Keep my ship afloat or I'll hang ye from the yardarm!"  

"Promises, promises!" Thom yelled back to her.

Adonia settled in quietly at that, eyes closing again while Jim chided her for moving. Of course she resorted to humor just now. What else was she to do? She felt the ship move under them as the tow cables were tied off and the Endeavour began to haul them away. This was only what she deserved for being such a fool, for entertaining such childish hopes of reuniting with her father. That was not like to happen. He'd not come for her because Beckett had her as a glorified hostage. He hadn't come for her in eleven years. Why would he start now?

At least this situation would afford her the chance to know more fully what was happening in the world. She hadn't known the Brethren Court planned to meet. Hell, she hadn't known Papa was a pirate lord. She hadn't known Groves had left the Royal Navy, or perhaps been press-ganged out of it. And she certainly hadn't known Beckett knew as much of her as he did. Things were not looking up for the Dainty Lass and her crew. But at least this way, she could gather information. She could buy and barter time. And then, someday hopefully soon, she'd be able to strike.

[chronosmith-blog]

The Wheel of Havoc Pt. 1

((Part 2 | Part 3

So, short intro here: I’ve never done a genuine AU on this blog before, so I figured I’d give this Godformers thing a shot. I’m writing this largely for my own satisfaction, and it’s meant to be able to stand on its own as a story with parallels to Whirl’s history, but I’ll be happy to open RPing possibilities to anyone who might be interested at the story’s conclusion. 

These events don’t necessarily adhere to any one strict continuity, but rather vaguely reference common events and terminology. All participants are, of course, Cybertronian. Also, the time measurements in these entries are not consistent with canon: think of Chords as days, and Cycles as months.))

----

Taken from the journal entries of Linguistic Archaeologist Articulator

1st Chord 10th Cycle, Post-Unification It is with great joy in my spark that I write this, my first entry, with the news that after a long struggle with the more narrow-minded powers that control this academic institution, our expedition to find the lost city of Chorus has been funded at last.

I am keeping this personal journal as a record of our expedition, in the hopes that, should we be successful, I may publish my memoirs with sufficient accuracy and, should we fail, I may have something to look back up on in the future to humble myself, lest I become overconfident in any future grandiose claims. 

I, of course, being an accomplished archaeologist and the foremost expert on Protal Vernacular in the region, am here to translate any records we might find in the city. I will be accompanied by my contemporaries Knuckleboom, an accomplished geologist, Reclaimer, a theologic archaeologist and my academic partner on this proposition, as well as several students, who will handle the fieldwork with what I anticipate to be no shortage of enthusiasm, for this is their chance to make their mark on the field of archaeology before they have even earned their final titles.

Our expedition is still in the preliminary stages, and as such we won’t be setting out for several weeks, which should give us all ample time to gather our records and prepare ourselves for the trip.

(Inserted into the journal between these entries was a section that had been copy/pasted from an earlier work by Articulator, an academic essay written earlier in his career about the city of Chorus and the gods from which it took its name)

The city of Chorus was once home to the Chorus that gave it its name, these being the divine muses of the arts. A great many claims are made about the eventual fate of Chorus, but nobody is entirely sure how the city became lost or if it even existed as it is described in the myths. The most probable explanation is that, as the divine wars raged, it was simply abandoned for practical reasons. It was never built to be a defensible location and was of little to no strategic use to any side, so siege or attack was highly unlikely.

More fanciful tales tell of a great cataclysm that opened the ground and swallowed the city. This is not entirely implausible, as the region is known for its great yawning cave systems, but a sinkhole of such size would surely have left some mark on the surface.

As far as is known, no God had turned a vengeful eye on the city of Chorus. The muses were by and large neutral entities, dedicated wholly to the arts and the way art is expressed, with no strong affiliations to either spectrum in regards to the wider pantheon. They are not regarded as being especially important in current day. Their names live on in references to classical mythology, but they are no longer worshiped, or seen, and have no active role in the day-to-day lives of we mecha, as the other Gods very clearly do. Their shrines have long since disappeared from the world; any rituals that speak of their preferred methods of worship or their offerings have no definitive record. What we do know about the Chorus is precious little:

Said to be the greatest in power and chief of the muses was Harmos, the Muse of harmony. His principle role was to guide the actions of all the other muses into a single cohesive whole. Harmos was honored on days coinciding with great celestial events, such as eclipses and planetary conjunctions, as this was believed to be a wider representation of his work in the arts.

Lyrica was the muse of words, and was strongly associated with song, poetry, and the power language. These days, poets, playwrights, and novelists invoke Versos, who is believed to be a reincarnation of Lyrica and the current host of the power he once held.

Metron was the muse of structure, and governed the laws of mathematics and mechanics as they applied to art. Metron was strongly associated with the marriage of form and function, with some vague ties to architecture. It is said his preferred offering was his favorite artistic endeavor: the timepiece.

Coda was the muse of the end. Coda was associated with sadness in art, from dirges, to tragedies, all forms of poignant verse. “Beauty from sorrow” is a phrase that some claim can be traced back, linguistically, to prayers to this muse, but I have found no strong links to this in my studies. This muse is of special interest to me, as it is the one who ignited my passion for the lost city of Chorus.

Tempos was the muse of dance and graceful movement. This muse, more than any other, had the strongest connection to music. Since the fall of Chorus, many new Gods have risen that now have strong ties to both music and dance, but they seem to have no connection to Tempos, and it’s widely believed that any power this deity once held has faded.

 11th Chord, 12th Cycle I have been regrettably remiss in the regular upkeep of this journal in the days leading up to our expedition, but there is quite simply very little to write about. All of our time has been taken up in rather humdrum preparations that scarely require notation here. It takes a good deal of paperwork to move such a large undertaking through foreign territory, especially in the wake of the war. There is also the matter of provisioning ourselves and hiring outside of the university for such tasks that fall out of our academic purview, such as nurses and operators for the heavy-duty machinery—all necessary, but incessantly dull tasks.

14th Chord, 13th Cycle Tomorrow we will be leaving, at last! A small gathering of my closest friends came to my home tonight for a going-away dinner, which was perfectly lovely, and likely the last time I am to enjoy vintage high-grade for the rest of the year. I feel I will miss the company of my conjunx even more, but even in the field, it is not difficult to keep in touch.

19th Chord, 13th Cycle We’ve arrived at our excavation site at last. Even if I had not suspected the sad remains of a once-great city lurked beneath our feet, I would have recognized the pall that hangs over this saturnine place; the land is barren and unwelcoming, washed-out from periodic floods from the rust sea. This, I’ve been told, is part of the reason why the cave systems beneath the silt are so extensive; the sea seeps down and erodes its way through the softer metals, following gradually-formed channels that have widened to pools and caverns over the centuries.

26th Chord, 13th Cycle At last, our first sign! We’ve uncovered what seems to be a section of outer wall. I must caution myself against optimism, because this wall could be part of any number of structures, and in fact our geologist has assured us that this structure has not been buried nearly as long as the city of Chorus has been lost. I remain stubbornly hopeful.

28th Chord, 13th Cycle We’ve uncovered more and more buildings. There are signs of relatively recent, but temporary habitation here—sometime in the last million or so years, during the course of the war—and we believe these outer ruins were used as places to temporarily shelter while traveling through the otherwise featureless land. So far we have found no large structures or anything more sophisticated than a simple dwelling.

Stratigraphic records indicate that these structures have been gradually buried, rather than concealed through a single, cataclysmic event. Our geologist has pointed out, with great enthusiasm, the bands in which we can see a lack of the lighter silt sediments, indicating drought years, which he has matched up to historical records of such events. We are digging deeper, and we are going further back in time as we do.

4th Chord, 14th Cycle I scarcely know whether to categorize today as an unprecedented success or a disaster. The only reason I countenance the first is that I retire tonight with the knowledge that none of my team have been seriously injured; one of our students took a nasty knock on the head today, but has since rallied admirably and has been cleared by out medic to be quite fine, aside from a slight concussion. The student in question is less bothered with the injury than our medic was, and expressed, over dinner, a great deal of amusement to be the first person to have been knocked unconscious during the discovery of a lost city.

During our regular excavations, there was an enormous collapse. I did not see it happen, but I witnessed the aftermath: apparently our digging equipment, while moving further and further into the layers of silt, caused too much stress on the weakest parts of a cavern roof, which promptly collapsed and swallowed one third of the camp into it. A great deal of equipment have been lost, as have many excavation sites that we’d been painstakingly caring for. On a very personal note, several of my instruments were broken, as well as a lovely pocket chronometer I had purchased as a gift for myself upon my last promotion.

After we’d accounted for everyone and dragged our poor unconscious student to the medic, we ventured down into the mysterious, stygian chamber with lamps in hand to investigate what dread hunger had interrupted out work.

And there it was; largely collapsed, dashed upon the rocks below like a poorly-constructed model of a city. It had been locked away, sealed in this cavern for untold millennia. The level of preservation is highly inconsistent. In some places we could see the original panels of constructed streets, and in others liquid erosion had all but wiped away everything except the natural metal. There was no mistaking what remained of the ordered structures that could be glimpsed among the tumbled walls and the avenues half-smothered with silt.

For we have, at last, unearthed the city of Chorus.

[lovebooksgroup]

Today on Love Books Group we have a treat for you with a special feature with author Susi Osbourne. Enjoy!

Book Synopsis

Following years of sexual abuse and resulting psychological trauma, Angelica Stone has learnt to rely solely on herself. Unwilling to allow anyone to get close to her, Angelica is reluctant to allow her work colleague Lola into her life. Lola, in contrast to the damaged Angelica, is from what appears to be a happy middle-class family. But all is not what it seems… An unlikely bond is formed between the two as they learn more about eachother. As they become closer, a series of life-changing events leave Lola on the verge of ruin. Will the friends be able to better themselves and have the lives they so desperately want? Or will they succumb to the expectations and the path already laid out for them? Angelica Stone follows both characters in their own journey of self-discovery. This close and in-depth look into the lives of Angelica and Lola will see the reader laugh and cry as the two women learn about themselves and the invaluable friendship they have. Susi Osborne worked within the library service and now runs Northwick LitFest in Cheshire, where she lives. Susi also worked as a classroom assistant in a junior school and, in addition, has had first hand experience of social workers and the adoption system.

Susi Osborne 

Susi Osborne lives in Winsford in Cheshire with her Scottish husband, her actress daughter and two mischievous little dogs. Their house is termed affectionately (hopefully!) amongst their numerous friends as the Osborne madhouse for obvious reasons. They do a lot of entertaining. Susi also has an adult son and a grandson who live nearby.

Before she became a writer, Susi worked in libraries for many years. She also worked as a classroom assistant in a junior school. In addition to her writing, Susi organises Northwich LitFest, which she has been running for the past six years.

Alongside the writing of her latest book, Angelica Stone, Susi has been raising money for Centrepoint, the charity for youth homelessness, and has set up a Just Giving Page in her name.

Susi is a firm believer in the fact that it’s never too late to do anything. ‘You have one life – go out and grab it with both hands!’ She is available to give talks at festivals, events, libraries and reading groups and can be contacted at susi.osborne@hotmail.co.uk

Guest Post By Susi Osborne 

Hi Kelly – and thank you so much for inviting me to have a guest spot on your blog today.

November already? That soon came around. And I don’t really want this year to end – 2017 has been an amazing year for me with all kinds of good things happening, including meeting some lovely people along the way. Having said that, this hasn’t just been an amazing year, in actual fact it has been an incredible decade altogether for me personally.

It all started in the February of 2008 when I had a milestone birthday. It was one I hadn’t particularly been looking forward to as it really did, supposedly, signify the onslaught of old age. Hmm. People kept asking what I would be doing by way of celebration. I procrastinated at length. Did I really just want to mark the occasion quietly, have a meal with a few close friends? Would that be the beginning of the downward spiral, on the slippery slope towards ‘the end’? Visions of pottering around garden centres, coach trips and worse, drifted past me. No. It could not be.

Maybe it’s something to do with being an Aquarian in The Age of Aquarius, but I’ve always been a bit of a rebel. And so, to mark the dawning of this new decade of my hitherto relatively crazy-free life, I decided to throw… a Tarty Party. It was a red and black themed affair, obviously, and I wore huge red feathered wings and felt a million dollars.

The only downside of the whole evening was that in the heat from all the dancing I did, the dye from my wings came out all over my back and gave me an allergic reaction. But, heigh-ho, it was a great party!

And that was just the start. Just a few days later my very first book, The Ripples of Life, was published, opening up a whole new world that I had really known very little about before. I threw myself into it wholeheartedly. Coincidentally, it was also at this time that I met a person who has since become my closest friend. We met when she gave me my first ever radio interview.

So that was the beginning. Two more books followed – Grace & Disgrace and Secrets, Lies & Butterflies, each with their own whirl of publicity. But, in the midst of all of this, a random thought entered my head. I had travelled all over the country to various literary events and festivals and always found them really interesting. So here was the thought. Why not organise a literary festival in Cheshire, where I live? Great idea, Susi. Have you ever organised anything like this before? No, just summer fairs at my kids’ school. Do you have any funding? No. Do you have any help? No. Great. Let’s do it then.

And so Northwich LitFest was born. I’ve been running it for six years now and I have to say, with the voice of experience – anyone can start one but, it is definitely not a task for the faint-hearted. That very first year was manic, when I stop to think about it. I didn’t have a budget – never have I had to blag so many things for free in my entire life! Convincing venues

that they would love to hold an event there without charge. Convincing writers that they would like to travel to little-known Northwich in Cheshire to speak about their books and stay overnight in my house, if they wished, as I couldn’t afford to pay for a hotel. And, finally, convincing the people of Northwich that they would love to come to the events even though there had never been a literary festival held in the town ever before.

But it worked. I had the lovely Adele Parks as one of the guest speakers that first year and she was wonderful. Despite a somewhat shaky start (for me), as I worried that no one would turn up.They did. In fact more than sixty people came to listen, and were enthralled – it was a great evening. Afterwards Adele sent me a copy of an article she’d written in which she said she’d been unsure what to expect, but I’d attacked the organisation of Northwich LitFest ‘with gusto’ and she was impressed. She wasn’t wrong. And I haven’t changed!

All of that was six years ago, and since then Northwich LitFest has continued to go from strength to strength. There have been some amazing speakers – Stella Duffy, Carole Matthews, Rowan Coleman, Angela Clarke, Paul Burston, to name but a few. Fifteen events in total throughout the month of June each year.

Northwich LitFest is a tremendous amount of work and brings an even larger amount of stress – so much so that at the end of every June I always say ‘never again’. I don’t think anyone believes me any more

though as I’m still here! And next year’s LitFest is already in the planning stages. Laura Wilkinson and Christie Barlow will be here!

Actually, one of the speakers I had at last year’s LitFest was the fabulous Sophie Parkin (daughter of Molly Parkin), who gave a fascinating talk and slideshow entitled ‘Scurrilous Tales of Soho’ which tied in with her book about The Colony Room Club. Sophie and her husband stayed with us for the weekend and we had a crazy day out in Liverpool, visiting an art exhibition, perusing vintage clothes shops, and eating enough food to feed a small army. Afterwards, Sophie asked whether I’d like to hold a book launch celebration for my latest book, Angelica Stone, in her arts club, Vout-O-Reenees in London. Who was I to say no?

My book launch for Angelica Stone was a night I shall remember forever. Vout-O-Reenees is such an amazing place, and Sophie and Jan so welcoming. It was lovely also to spend such a special night surrounded by family and friends, as well as writers, actors, etc, who I’ve come to know through the Litfest, and that they had travelled from near and far to be there to support me. My only one big regret is that we were enjoying ourselves so much that we hardly took any photos!

So, Angelica Stone was off to a great start – I hope it continues. It’s a much grittier story than my first three books. The idea for Angelica originally stemmed from thinking about how you don’t get a choice about

which family you are to be born into. And, if you need to do so, is it ever possible to break free from the cycle of life into which you’ve been born?

Angelica had been sexually abused a young child and was subsequently taken away from her birth family and brought up in care, where she was moved from one foster placement to another and had an ever-changing succession of social workers – until she absconded, apparently without trace. There are so many young people, like the character of Angelica in my book, who can fall through the net of the system and ‘disappear’. Angelica is tough, because she’s had to be. She trusts no one and reluctant to get close to anyone for fear of bringing them trouble.

However, when Lola comes onto the horizon she is a force to be reckoned with – the kind of person who is drawn towards all the lame ducks of the world, wanting to help. At the beginning of their friendship Angelica has nothing and Lola has it all…apparently. But life is not always what it seems. Slowly, as their friendship develops, cracks start to appear in Lola’s hitherto problem-free world. Things are most definitely not always what they seem – who knows what secrets lurk behind closed doors?

Angelica Stone is a book that contains a lot of humour, some captivating characters, a mysterious thread…and a massive twist! According to one Amazon reviewer ‘Both Angelica and Lola became very close to my heart whilst reading and I think they took a little bit of it with them when they left me.’ I hope you will feel the same.

Susi x

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Angelica-Stone-Susi-Osborne-ebook/dp/B0749S2L68/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1510321668&sr=8-1&keywords=susi+osborne

If you enjoyed the blog please leave a like and a comment. We would love it if you could share it on Twitter & Facebook.  It really helps us to grow. Thanks so very much.

Connect with Love Book Group on Social Media

TWITTER INSTAGRAMFACEBOOK

Author Feature with Susi Osborne @susiosborne @BookGuild #AngelicaStone Today on Love Books Group we have a treat for you with a special feature with author Susi Osbourne.

[axelandmonroe-blog]

Axel

I will be 17 in two weeks. I have dark hair and a slim physique. I like to work out and play sports. I like computers, reading and music. I grew up my whole life pretty much like any other kid. Had a house in a small town, went to school, played sports had the same school mates since grade school. My parents were never around much so I didn’t form any bonds with them. They “worked” a lot of the time, out of the country. That left my brother Max. He is older He is pretty cool when you get to know him I guess. He would appear odd to some. Others seem to like him, but his presence can be, how do I say this…. un-nerving? He can be strict. He doesn’t mind “enforcing” his rules either. The guardianship thing is rather new. I mean he was around when I was younger way more than my mother and father. I don't really recall them.

Max had to leave for a few years as well, and while he was gone I was left with family friends The Villareals. They basically kept to themselves, they treated me well, really well, but nevertheless they kept to themselves and allowed me basically to go about my business as I pleased. So I guess Im kind of a loner. I’ve never really gotten close to anyone, nor have I really felt the need to be. I knew what was coming. Why would you get close to people if you understood the consequences. I turn 17 on September 7th, so that gives me 1year and 3mths before either the inevitable happens (so I’m told) or I get the hell out of here without a trace by my 18th b-day. I mean I suppose it doesn’t happen just like that, and the transition takes time, and maybe it will be within my 18th year and not on the actual day, but one thing is for sure, if I don’t want to travel that road set out for me then I better have another route to take. One that can help me disappear. So anyway, brother comes back, for the most part pretty cool atleast to me. I get how others may think he is a bit of a dick, or stand offish. He treats me like an adult and does not put too many restrictions on me but he does have some rules. #1 rule always come home by dusk. This rule may seem strange. You see, my brother is a vampire. His life basically begins at dusk. He needs a little kickstart of human blood to get his senses going. He never drains me, he takes just enough to get him going. He says he does not feed off of other humans, but I don't believe him. I don't understand how he could be so strong and smart if he was taking just enough blood to get him through. I have heard others do that as well so as not to hurt humans and live amongst them, they then live off of small animals and plasma juice. The plasma juice has been engineered and distributed in an effort from the humans to co-exist with the vampires….yet from what I have read and heard there is nothing like the taste of real human blood. It gives the vamps, power. It ignites their entire body and can make a vamp perform in god like ways. Many vamps get off on it, but where we live, it is a community of co-existing so long as everyone plays the game.

So the way our line works is this…… During your 18th year you are bitten by your master vamp….which in this case is my brother. My parents turned him, and once his transition was over he returned to oversee mine.  He was gone for 3 years. Training, learning, educating himself on lore and all things Vampire. During this time it is told new vamps feed on humans to make them of strong mind and body during their re-birth. This may be a rumour, but other stories I have heard lead me to believe it is more fact than fiction. I haven't been privy to a lot of this information. I have been given what I need to know and not what might actually be useful information to have for someone about to have a life altering event happening to them in the not so distant future. I thought vampires were made, but not like this. I find it all confusing and Max doesn't give me much information. He tells me I will know when the times comes and that will be time enough.

All I know is I’m running out of time to be me. I am marked for this. Is it worth fighting? Should I run?During my 18th year I will become something else. Not fully human. Monster? I don't know. The thought of turning scares me, I could never say that out loud, because if I did it would make me sound weak, and that is not allowed. For some reason I have to be strong. Im chosen for something bigger than this mortal life. But why? I don't know if I am scared of becoming powerful or losing my humanity. Will I lose my humanity? Max is still normal, he can pretend very well. I suppose that is part of the learning. Figuring out how to fit in without drawing too much attention. I mean, we…. he lives among humans, many vamps do. It is normal now. Some people ask to be turned if only for  perks to being immortal. There is still so much to understand. Like where the hell have my parents been my entire life. I don't remember them being around from a young age. As a matter of fact all I really have memories are, are with Max. Max looks the same even now. A body frozen in time with a mind that ages with each passing season year after year. A prisoner to his youth. I had to get out of my head. I had to forget about this all if only for a little while.

Summer flew by and we were nearing the end of my last mortal summer. I did my best to enjoy the time I had. Michael Villarreal was my only real friend and I'm not so sure he really had a choice in the matter, but we ended up pretty close as two strangers could get who were thrown into a weird situation. Luna and Michael threw an end of summer bonfire. The usual crowd from school was there. The evening was uneventful for the most part and I was thinking of heading home when this girl in white began approaching the fire. Luna bounced out of a dark bush and nearly scared the life out of the girl. I felt sorry for her, wished I could make her feel better in that moment. (mental note) I don't even know her, why would I care? Turns out Luna knew the girl. She was new in town and would be in 12th grade as well. Her name was Monroe and she moved here with her mom. Apparently she was quite the pianist. Ofcourse this all trickled out amongst other guests at the party. I never actually heard it from her. Luna had met her while in town. She invited her to the bonfire to introduce her  to some people so she wouldn't feel like she didn't know anyone come the first day of school. From what I could tell she would be popular amongst the crowd. I strolled around the party hovering around her as she got introduced. I listened to her talk about moving from Whitsbe to Kerteece, She didn't give away too much personal information other than she liked music and art. I began feeling creepy. Following her around the party. I wondered if she had noticed me lurking and thought that I really was creepy. I wanted to introduce myself. I had to. I wanted to hear her speak to me this time. I gingerly went up and said “hey!” pretty sure I had a too wide double chin dopey grin on my face. If I did she didn’t say anything about it. She simply responded with “hi.” I recovered quickly and told her my name was Axel. She in turn responded with the obligatory “nice to meet you, my name is Monroe, I’m knew in town.” We chatted for a while, and by awhile right up until everyone else was gone and it was just her and I. We both loved music. I kind of explained my living situation but not in great detail. She told me a bit about herself but still kept guard of how much she was saying. I could tell she was holding back, but who was I to judge when I was doing the same thing, and with good reason. I felt comfortable talking to her though. Her voice was warm and she smelled sweet. Was that how she smelled or was I really smelling her. Was her blood so sweet I could smell her even now? No, I refused to think that. Maybe that was the strawberry cooler on her breath, she smelled sweet, naturally sweet. She had these kinda too big for her face red glasses and beautiful thick long black hair. She told me contacts scared her but maybe one day she would try them just not anytime soon. You could tell even with the glasses that she was beautiful and the more we talked over the night I realized it came from within her. She was genuinely a sweet innocent girl. She wore a necklace with a small crescent moon. Her dress was white and framed her body but still hung loosely as not to give her shape away. In that moment I realized I should walk away and not get involved. This couldn't end well if it ever became anything at all. I just met her. No feelings have been hurt. No one would care if we never spoke again. Walk away Axel, just walk away. She asked me if I wanted to watch the stars before we went home, and the stars in the sky were putting on quite the show tonight. How could I say no when she asked, and looked so cute not to mention I think she was on her 4th cooler.  It was only another 20 minutes maximum. Then I would go home and do my best to ignore her for the school year. 20 minutes is apparently all it takes. All it takes for your heart to start to want something and want it badly is 20 minutes. I had never made any real connections with anyone as I grew up. Michael is my closest friend and then there is just my brother. I have never wanted to be close to anyone. Yet, I just met her. Monroe. I didn't know she existed a few hours ago and now I cannot imagine never having known her. Wow. Im overwhelmed with a desire to be near her, to be with her. Im wondering if she is feeling the same way, although I doubt it. Other than agreeing to watch the stars with her I have tried to give her zero indication that I am even the slightest bit interested in her.  Although I will admit now in these final moments where I know any second she is going to tell me she has to go home I can't help but hold on to the moment. I realize I'm holding my breath and decide I should breathe out. Breathing is good. Intense. This has never happened. I mean I have dated the odd girl. Nothing serious. I never felt like this though, and I don't even know her. As predicted she turns to me and says she has to get home it is nearly 3am. She looks sleepy and is a little drunk. I tell her that I will walk her, it is too late for her to be out walking alone. She gladly accepts. She laughs as we walk the short distance to her house. We all live in the same neighbourhood and our backyards make up our hang outs. Good to know where she lives. She really didn't need me to walk her home. “Thanks,” she says with a giggle. “I guess I will see you when school starts next week then” she said. “Sure,”I said still trying to play it cool, but just incase she was doubting I added "Unless I see you before.” She smiled an awkward smile and well so did I. I turned around and went home. I went to bed that night kicking myself for  the “unless I see you before comment” I mean how dumb. I should have just said cya and went home.  I fell asleep thinking one week before school...how do I see her before school starts. I can't wait a week. zzzzzzzzzzz

[profoundtyrantharmony]

Title : That's How I Feel

Warning : None. Italics means flashback. Y/f/c => your favorite color. Y/f/sc => your favorite summer clothe.

Words : around 2260

Pairing : Loki x Black!Chubby!Female!Reader

Requested by @rootbeergoddess "Can you write a story where a chubby, brown skinned reader is dating Loki and Loki decides to spoil her one day by taking her to the mall and buying her everything she wants?"

Masterlist // Request

My name is y/f/n y/l/n, I'm a young adult living in 21th century. You wonder why I would say that ? Simple. I'm a woman, black and chubby, and apparently in this era this is a huge problem. I didn't do anything wrong, I mean yeah I love good food and I'm not overly fond of any kind of sport but is this really enough of a reason to basically bully me everyday. Let me answer this basic question : HELL NO !!! I'm pissed of all this bad comments about my appearance, what I should do to lose weight, to eat healthier... I can't stand the fact that we are being judge (yes because of course I'm far from being the only one) based on our looks rather than our sharpe mind. I know my worth, and I am far more worthy than all of these piece of...garbage...those wanabe decent human. Right now I seem like I am incredibly confident but I'm not. I'm alone in my room talking to myself in my head because I am not capable of doing it in front of my bullies !! You wanna know what happened for me to be alone instead of happilly working ? Let me tell you a story...

I live in a cute two bedrooms appartment not far from the Avengers quarter (I'd say 20 minutes on foot). It's a charming place, the neighbors are the nicest and most of all not judgmental. I live alone but sometimes my boyfriend come to spend the night at my house, those are the best night that could happen. But today I woke up alone in my king size bed, unfortunatelly for me he had an important meeting early this morning so he had to go early. His name is Loki of Asgard heir to the crown of Jotunheim, adoptive son of Odin, brother of Thor and most importantly the Holder of my heart. It's been 4-5 months that we are actually together but we've known each other for about one year. We met at the Avengers compound where I worked as an assistant for Pepper Potts before I became the analyst that I am today, but that's a story for another time. As I was saying I woke up alone this morning, it was 8:30 am. I'm not due to work until 10:00 am. I decided to take my breakfast while mentally visualise what I will do to work, whilst thinking about how to avoid my mescreants of co-workers (you read it right co-workers not collegues, I'm not appreciate enough to call them that, I only consider Bonnie a collegue, she's the closest thing I have to a friend at work. ). Once my coffe and my toasts spread with honey were eaten I went to to the bathroom to prepare myself. The most difficult part for me is to chose what I am going to wear if I don't want any comments. The purpose is to clearly become invisible, like a shadow lurking in the corner of the room. I don't want to wear a cute dress, a fluffy skirt or a top with some lacework on it cause i will 100% receive insults, mockery, and I just don't have the strengh anymore, it already happened before it will happened again I can't do anything to stop it. I already try when I was younger and guess what "it's just words don't listen to them", thanks a lot I feel better now ! I finally decided on a simple dark tight blue jeans and a white shirt with an afro motif on it (just like me). I put some liner and mascara and I was ready to face my personal hell. I went to work on foot, it was sunny with a bit of fresh wind, perfect for 20 minutes of walk. I arrived at exactly 9:50 am, and went to my desk to begin with my daily task. It took time and mental energy cause i'm a bit perfectionnist. My boss knows of that fact and are still satisfied with me because my work is ALWAYS perfect and NEVER need rework, the fact that I won the award of the best employee last year and this year too is something that didn't escape me. That's why I went to the communal area to get some tea and a chocolate and pistachio cookie, I really needed it. Just before I arrived I heard my name being said, and clearly not in a friendly way. I stayed hidden in the corridor to listen to what was being said. I recognised the voice of five persons (three men and two women, all agents of shield), they were talking about how fat I am, how ugly I am, how my clothes are too tight and not meant for me. But if it was only about my body it would be just like usual, nothing to worry about, but they were talking about my personnality (low confidence, shy, discret) and about Loki, and that, I couldn't stand it ! How dare they insult him after all he has done for humanity, for shield, for them, only to be treated as a lesser man, it's absolutelly despicable. Understanding that whatever I could do I will never be enough for them made me sad and angry at myself. I didn't wanna eat anymore and decided to quit work for the day (don't worry I informed Pepper) and get back home and stay alone in my bedroom, laying on my dark green new bedsheets.

I stay alone like this for quite some time until I hear the familiar voice of my tender one.

"I came as fast as I could, Pepper warned me you left work early what happened ?" He seems so worried, I don't want him to see me as a weak little human even if I know that he doesn't see me like that at all.

"Don't worry it's nothing. Lets talk about something else, how was the meeting ?" He was looking at me as if he could read me, maybe he can, he is too cute, look at his face, his eyes, his...sad smile ? What happen to him ? "Why the sad face Loki ?"

"I'm not sad, I know what you're going through on a personnal level trust me, plus there is no such thing as secrecy when you work with and for the Avengers and shield. I know what those pathetic little things called humans have said about you, your collegue Bonnie was close to the area when she heard them, she called them on their bullshit (has been insulted short after) and came to Pepper who then came to me right after." He come to sit beside me, his face coming closer to mine, his hands taking my face in his, our forehead touches, our eyes getting close, we breath each other's in, it was so calm and tender. "The things you make me feel princess, I don't think you understand the power you have over me that's insane !" His smile when he said this makes my tears almost came free. We kissed each other slowly with a lot of passion until we stop to breath.

"I just don't understand why they are so mean with me, yes I'm black but I can't change that, yes I'm chubby but i'm don't have cardiac problems, cholesterol issues or diabete, I walk everyday to go to work, I'm as healthy as I can be and those buffons can go to hell because I'm so freaking smart that they can't understand how wonderful I am !!"

"You have a lot of confidence in you princess so why don't you use it at work ?"

"You mean why I do not take the lead ? You mean taking the lead the same way I take it last time we were together in bed ?" I was trying so hard to change the topic of conversation but that was vain.

"Hmm you're being a naughty girl don't play this game right now I'm being serious."

"You're no fun !! Well, when I'm with you I feel respected, love. I trust you the way i never have thought I could. You never judge me and you make me feel whole, you're the first person I see myself with for the long term, you're the one for me and I hope you will love me for the rest of our time." Tears were flowing from his eyes, he takes me in his arms and kisses me for all his worth. The moans that come out of my mouth was like a fuel to him, he could never stop loving me. "Come with me princess, we're going shopping !"

The road to the mall was short cause we live close by and we took the car. It was still pretty early in the afternoon, maybe 3:00 pm si we had all the time we wanted, we were not in a hurry. When he parked the car I still didn't know why we came here.

"Why did we came here Loki ?" I asked him.

"I have some items to purchase Princess." He says with with a smile that could bright the entire universe.

"How many items do you have to purchase?" He smirked at me, and calmly told me :

"A healthy amount".

We entered the mall, I didn't know what to look for, it's been so many time i didn't come here, work kept me grounded in a way. I always asked one of my neighbors to do my shopping in exchange of some petsitting (when hollidays comes, familly week-end...it's better than abandonment if you ask me). There were so many things I'd like to buy but I didn't do it. Loki was leading to the litterature corner of the mall, I remembered that my favorite author just published a book days ago but didn't purchase it. Without a word, he took the book and paid for it, I know he loves reading maybe he is a y/f/a's fan. We looked at each other, smiling.

"Where do you want to go now ?

"I heard about the new summer collection, I'd like to go and check it out of that's okay with you princess." How could I ever refuse this face. He took my hand in his and lead me to the summer clothes sections. There were to many wonderful skirts, dresses I couldn'tstop looking at them...but would I ever be worthy of wearing them...

"Princess what do you think about this gorgeous y/f/c y/f/sc ? I think it will compliment your figure and make your pop more."

"Why would you wanna buy it ? That's not exactly what you would wear my sweet."

"It's not for me" he said laughing, "That's for you !"

"...But why ?" I was shocked.

"Why would I want to spoiled the best thing that ever happened to me you mean ? Because I can and most importantly I want to do it. I want you to see yourself as I see you. I want you to feel self confident enough to allowed yourself to wear whatever you want without feeling self concious. And above all I want to please you as the Princess tou deserve. So I'm asking you, will you let me buy you books, clothes, make up, knits..."

"How do you know about the knits ?" I asked interumpting him.

"It doesn't matter, I know that you knit some tiny socks and caps for orphans babies, that you don't tell to anyone cause you don't brag about the good thing you do because that's not who you are and I love you all the more for it. You take so much care about people you don't even know but never about you. I'm here to change it I'm here to take care of you the way you won't do."

"Loki...I..I..Thanks you". I was crying my soul out. It wasn't from sadness but from hapiness, i couldn't describe the amount of love I felt for him this right moment. We hugged each other, the time stopped around us and we were floating like two leaves dancing with the wind.

"Lets go eat something, I saw a french backery at the other end of the mall."

"Good idea, I didn't eat since breakfast so I'm a little bit starving." I happilly answered.

"There is a lot of choices princess, croissant, paint au chocolat, chicolate chips cookie...a millefeuille..." he was undecided.

"Why not take the four and split, this way de could taste and eat a bit of everything." I told him, secretly hopping he'd say yes, cause, lets be honnest here, french food was literally my péché mignon (*cute sin/guilty pleasure*). He was more than happy with this idea, and more than happy to share his food with me. We talked a lot, purchase many other items, especially a bouquet of several flowers ( bouton d'or for joy ; white camellias for the eternal love ; fuchsias for unbreakable love ; gardenias for honesty ; lavender for respect and tenderness, last flowers but not the least the white roses for pure love). I was so overwelmed with joy that I couldn't contain my tears.

"What did I do to deserve all this Loki ?" I asked crying.

"There is no reason really..." he looked me in the eyes and I saw all the love pouring into them as he continued "...that's how I feel."

*This is the end of my first fic, hope you liked it, remember, english is not my mother tongue so there might be some mistakes.*

*If you want to request check out here*

*Likes, Comments and Reblogs are also appreciated*