#(if i tried to polish it with lines and color and everything i would die. sorry)

[ratcandy]

working on a lil . somethign. that is going to take forever to finish

[you-know-honey]

The L rule

Part 1/2

Sodo/Dewdrop x f!reader

Summary: You know what they say about short boys...

Word Count: 1930

Note: bad english, the L rule is something that until now I have only heard in Latin America but if you are from other countries and have heard it, comment :).

"Yeah!" You squealed excitedly at your phone, you were in Aurora's room where a girls' night out and Swiss was taking place. Aurora had begged to be let in and well…no one can resist that smile too much and a blackmail of candys that Swiss had brought with him.

As a fun act in your pajamas, you had been logging into internet forums about yourselves, looking at fan edits, and overacting fanfic scenes, plus of course a LOT of Reddit gossip, and now you were trying to get into a group of theories about the band by idea of Swiss. You offered to take care of searching the forums, but the WiFi signal in the ministry is terrible, especially in the ghoul area, so you were lying on the ceiling of Aurora's closet, with the ceiling of the room at few centimeters from you, while the page loaded.

"I'm sorry Rain, I can't be with you" Cumulus posed as Sodo in a fanfic about him and Rain, the performance fell into ridiculousness and that was the funny thing "I am a fire demon, you are water, we are opposites, destined to never be together." He flopped onto the pillow fort.

"Love can do everything Sodo!" Cirrus responded with the same drama. They both read the lines from their cell phones. "Let me love you" Cirrus dramatized, dropping onto Cumulus in the fort and ending his excellent play amid laughter from everyone present.

"I almost cried," Swiss exaggerated while applauding as if he had seen the pinnacle of theater drama.

"Stay still!" Aurora scolded the ghoul and pulled her left hand back in, trying to finish polishing her nails.

The night was more than perfect, even though it was a 'girls' sleepover, the idea of the masks and manicure had been Swiss's idea, he had really committed herself to making sure everyone had a good time. They had eaten popcorn, pizza and done spicy food challenges, challenges that Cumulus had won.

"Girls, enter the forum" you said as you slide out of the prison between the closet and the ceiling, Swiss made space for you next to him as he waved his hands to dry the polish.

"Let's get this started!" Cirrus said, excited to hear the fans' crazy ideas.

They avoided all theories that had to do with Papa Tenzo since it was a nostalgic topic, it was funny how many tried to guess Montain's height, he had made edits about Swiss promoting toothpastes, or about Rain being a kawaii girl.

"Wait! See" Aurora pointed out on the screen.

Test Who is your Ghost Soulmate ¡Click Here!

Without asking permission Aurora clicked, they were stupid questions like: What is your favorite food? What is your favorite instrument? What is your favorite color? Favorite Ghost song? Etc.

The results were curious to say the least.

Cumulus result was Mountain and she seemed to blush a little as she sank into the pillows. Something that you guys didn't waste and joked about.

Cirrus was paired with herself, and in an exaggerated way she went for a hand mirror from among Aurora's makeup and kissed her reflection, definitely nothing better than being your own love of your life.

Aurora and Swiss's turns were fun, they both appeared as the love of each other's lives, they looked at each other and burst into laughter. Swiss put her arm around Aurora's shoulders. "Maybe in another life, dear" she said in a diva tone as she laughed and Aurora agreed.

When it was your turn everyone was curious, you completed the questions and waited a few seconds before the pixels showed an image of Sodo on the screen with a brief description of why he would be your soulmate:

'A wild boy who will get you out of any boredom✨, his hands work magic🔥, his name says it all.🥴 All good girls die for a bad boy like Sodo. You already know the L rule 😏'

You laughed nervously as you shook your head, there was no way the gremlin was your ideal soulmate "No, never that" you said between nervous laughs but the others only gave each other knowing looks, perhaps your insistence on denying everything ended up confirming it. “Come on guys, it’s just a silly test,” you tried to ignore him.

You and Sodo weren't very close, but on the part of the ghoul who always seemed to want to be away from you, you had even felt that being close to him drained his energy and you weren't really looking for that. So if Sodo was in the room you practically became part of the furniture and in the few times they had to interact you were always too stiff to be natural while you stammered vague responses or ran away from the room, leaving the ghoul somewhat bewildered. The group had interpreted those things as 'romantic advances' and if they were like that they would be the most pathetic romantic advances in the world.

"Stop guys, seriously, it's not funny. It's fake." It was actually funny, if you weren't the victim you would joke just like they do now.

"Of course it's funny, just look at you, if it weren't real, your cheeks wouldn't be as red as tomatoes" Cumulus took the opportunity to say.

"You blushed too!" You replied, you weren't expecting that attack from Cumulus.

"At least I can admit that Mountain is cute!" Cumulus said. Low blow for you.

You wouldn't deny that Sodo was cute, it was an opinion that you and millions of others shared, even in his demonic form, you had always thought that there was no way Sodo wouldn't look attractive. But he had to stay alone in your thoughts.

"One way or the other!" You raised your arms in a sign of peace. “Also, what the hell does the L rule mean?”

"I don't know" Aurora answered, looking at the others for answers but both Cumulus and Cirrus raised and dropped their shoulders.

"No idea girls" Cirrus said.

A small, almost imperceptible laugh escaped Swiss's lips and like owls they all turned towards him, smiling maliciously at each other.

"You know what it is, right Swiss?" Cumulus approached him with a tender puppy look.

"I won't tell them," he replied, but there was a small crack of weakness in his voice. If they pressed harder he would speak.

"But we invited you to our girls' night" Cirrus pouted and crossed her arms childishly, something very cute and she knew it.

"It's a boy thing" He responded, crossing his legs looking at the ceiling to avoid falling into the manipulative tenderness of the ghoulette.

"But you said you were one of us. We girls tell each other everything" you said in the sweetest tone you had, one that worked very well with Rain or Phantom. You leaned on her shoulder like a cat to be closer to her ear.

If an outsider saw the scene they would think it was some kind of satanic harem and not a group of girls trying to convince their dear friend to betray their gender and tell them the secret.

"If it's not the good way, it's the bad way." Aurora pretended to roll up the sleeves of her pajamas. "Girls, hold it down."

With evil smiles they all understood the plan, Cumulus and Cirrus held the legs and you held their wrists. Swiss writhed like a snake but it was impossible for him to get free.

"It's not okay! It's cheating!" he screamed as he tried to get away, laughter escaping him.

"Come on Y/N, you wouldn't do this to your good friend" he begged you with his cute smile.

"Sorry Swiss, curiosity first. Give it Aurora!" Swiss opened her mouth to say something but Aurora rushed over her stomach, beginning the torture.

Aurora's hands ran over the most sensitive areas of Swiss's body, causing him to tickle and laugh loudly and uncontrollably, as well as broken pleas for them to stop. The scene made the girls laugh.

"Confess!" You yelled at him between laughs.

"No," he replied. "It's a boy thing," Swiss gasped as he tried to take a breath, his chest rising and falling violently, tears beginning to escape from his eyes and roll down to his neck.

"We can do this all night!" Aurora hummed and she wasn't lying.

"I…" I gasp "Fuck it…Fine!" He gasped again but louder, "I will confess!" the tickling stopped abruptly letting him breathe properly after some endless minutes.

"Okay" Aurora stayed on him for a few seconds waiting for some sign of a lie but it wasn't like that. She raised her hands in peace and moved away from her stomach. You and the girls let it out too. Swiss wiped away his tears and took some time to get back to normal.

He stood up and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from Aurora's nightstand before sitting back down on the cushions and scribbling a few things down. She ended up showing them an L on the paper, next to the vertical line she had written the letter 'B' and under the small horizontal line the letter 'D'.

"Any idea?" Swiss asked and the four shook their heads, Swiss sighed.

"What does 'D' mean?" you asked innocently.

Swiss smiled mischievously "This" he pointed to his own crotch.

You looked at his crotch for a few seconds before understanding, the blood went to your cheeks at a fantastic speed and you covered your face embarrassed to let your gaze go to the area of Swiss's body and everyone's eyes widened in surprise when they understood. They didn't need to look to understand.

"So if I have the page vertically and the B refers to the boy and the D refers to his… 'little friend', it means that the taller the boy, the smaller his 'D' will be, do you understand?" I explain Swiss as if it were a university class.

"But Sodo isn't that tall, the rule doesn't make sense then" Cumulus was the least uncomfortable of all, Aurora had a nervous smile, you and Cirrus covered half of your faces with a cushion each, absolutely embarrassed.

''Quite the opposite, my dear Cirrus." Swiss turned the page horizontally and changed the place of the 'B' and the 'D'. "As you see, everything changes, now the boy is small so his 'D' will be bigger."

If it could still be possible, your cheeks took on an even redder color. The girls let out a group "Ohhhh…" as Swiss threw the piece of paper against the door.

"Happy with the answer?" Swiss asked, crossing his arms, proud of his explanation. "I hope this betrayal of my gender merits some reward." She looked at her nails with feigned disinterest, before Aurora handed her a handful of candy.

"I was expecting something funnier, but it's okay," you said as you looked out the window, hoping that your blush would stop and that no one would notice.

"Forget it, let's do something interesting now" Swiss said, returning to the fun of a sleepover.

Swiss had finished singing 'London Boy' by Taylor Swift and had even tied the sheet of Aurora's bed around her waist as an elegant dress. You regretted not being able to record that moment. Now it was your turn. You spun the little spinner on the screen of Swiss's phone, it spun for a few seconds and stopped on 'I Love It' by Icona Pop. Your eyes sparkled with excitement.

A long night of talented divas was coming.

I hope you like it, I plan to write some "short" stories to cover my obsession with the band while I continue writing the fanfic.

[a-trick-or-two-with-lepers]

I finally watched Swedish Christ Superstar

Remember how I did a whole deep dive into the 2018 one? Yeah well, I was gonna try to do that with this version, but it is so unbelievably, completely, utterly, insanely unhinged that I just had to have my post about it match the energy. So without further ado, here are my literal first reaction notes to Jesus Christ Superstar (2014 Swedish Arena Tour).

Overture-

• Ooh the stuttering guitar is so metal

• Love the outfits, give me more apocalyptic leather headbanging nonsense

• Love how the choreo goes with the music rather than pure immediate chaos

• Admittedly the orchestra could be a bit better, but not terrible

• The shopping cart is my favorite character

• This feels almost interpretive

• Ok. Jesus is hot

• Draculacore

• Is he orgasming?

• I think that's an appropriate tone to be set

• I will say, I like productions with more color, but I see the style they're going for and I don't dislike it

Heaven on their minds-

• I like how they translated the lyrics to sound good in Swedish

• Also gives extra context and connotation to the words

• Love judas' mesh top!

• Really good singer wow

• This is how the song is supposed to be sung!!!

• I like boys with long hair hehehehe

• Symbolic that jesus is sleeping while judas is trying to get him to listen. Shows how closed off and resigned to his fate he was

• And also how no matter how hard judas tried he would never really be heard

• Painted nails!

• The subtitles said fuck? Lol

• I seriously love this guy's voice

• Oh my god they're so boyfriends

What's the buzz/Strange thing mystifying-

• Jesus is serving so much cunt

• So. Much. Touching.

• AHAHAHAHAGSVSBAZHDVWH THEYRE SO BOYFRIENDS HWWGGA

• Yes Maria feed him that orange

• "A man like him" you mean... 💅?

Everythings alright-

• I really like Mary's voice and look

• Mommy vibes fs

• He's in the shopping cart hhahahaha

• The masculine urge to sleep in a shopping cart while wearing shades

This jesus must die-

• Caiaphas sounds like a toad LMAO

• "It's seduction! It's blasphemy!" -Christians watching this 😭

• Caiaphas saying "STOP" such a jumpscare

• They kept the jesus is cool line and for that this is now one of my favorite productions

• AND THEY SAID IT TWICE AM I IN HEAVEN??

• Well I won't be after watching this 😌

• Caiaphas has a pretty cool voice ngl, my timbers are shivered

• HELIKOPTER 🚁 HELIKOPTER 🚁

Hosanna-

• A bit faster rendition that's neat

• Interesting how judas is participating in the fray

• It's so nice to see his character happy for once though

• The jesus balloons are killing me

Simon zealotes/poor jerusalem-

• Ooh it's a fight

• The ladies are sangin and dancin 💃

• THEY SAID FUCK AGAIN

• Well okay I'm just gonna give up on the notion that this play will be family appropriate in any manner, it's better that way anyway

• Pretty cool how the choreo is militaristic, as well as the costuming

• They way Simon is pronounced 😃

• I am unilingual my brain is incapable of not making a joke about that

• Jesus your nail polish is chipping baby fix that

Pilates dream-

• Love pilates robe, very pretty

• Ok but the sparkly suit is better

The temple-

• Fuck counter: 3

• They have a bit more speaking in this version which I really don't mind

• The lyrics make it really clear how the crowds used their connection to God to justify their actions, an issue which is still prevalent today

• Annas shaking that tail go off

• Jesus jumpscare

• He called it "A whorehouse" 💀

• The beggars all have little hand lights, that creates a really cool effect

• Wow the music got really fast

I don't know how to love him-

• Yayy Mary hi Mary hi 😍🥰👋

• Da smoochy???

• Judas ain't gonna be happy bout this

• Her voice is so good!!

• Interesting how jesus is awake for this

• ITS JUDAS HE'S PEEKING

• Uh oh

Damned for all time/blood money-

• OH NO

• MY BOY GOT SLAPPED

• HE JUST WANTED A SMOOCH

• Ok now it just feels like he's betraying him cause he got rejected 😭

• Annas is such a little shit oh my god

• He's giving Draco Malfoy vibes somehow

The last supper-

• Act 2 baby here we go

• Okay so he's dragging them to absolute hell, love that for you jesus

• The girls are FIGHTING!

• "Tell us what happened to the good vibes" I'm loving this translation

• Judas actor once again killing it, he has a really lovely rock voice

• The apostles throwing shade at judas and planning to blame him in the gospels 😙🤌

• This shit crazy

Gethsemane-

• Ok I'm gonna try to be serious for this once

• So far pretty good

• The lyrics are hitting the important parts of the song I feel

• HE GOT THE NOTE!

• Pretty damn good

• My bias still lies with Neeley but that wasn't gonna change really

• I like how he made the g5 actually part of the song rather than separating it. This whole performance is actually very natural and easy to watch

• The last verse goes so incredibly hard

• *rips shirt open*

• 👌

The arrest-

• Here it is the kiss

• Here we go

• Literally the only part of this play I'd seen before

• Okay that's just. So romantic. JESUS kissed JUDAS! What a twist!

• "Why did you date a whore" goddamn

Peter's denial-

• Annas is basically the main character he's in so many songs

Pilate and christ-

• "Yeah we know you're 'hot'" I mean 😏

• Fuck counter: 4

• My notes are seriously lacking I apologize

King herods song-

• Herod is me I am Herod

• Me in my robe on a Monday morning imposing judgement onto others:

• Did they just use a slide whistle?

• Goofy ahh sound effects 💀

• "Fine I'll do it myself- look, no hands 😚"

• He's my favorite

• Herod being silly and goofy:🤪

• Jesus: 😐

• Loved that

Could we start again please-

• Fuck counter: 5

• Not the song I expected it to be in tbh

• Maybe it doesn't hold the same weight in Sweden

• "How are we going to explain it so it looks good on paper?" This is a new angle that is actually really interesting, and reminds me that the Bible is pretty much ancient RPF

• Yay they included the ensemble

Judas death-

• "For one measly kiss" I'd call that kiss a lot of things but measly does not come to mind

• He is talking to jesus instead of christ

• Something tells me this production is not very religious 🤔

• Which I am very ok with

• He's goin through it

• He's got the rock screams going on 🤘love it

• RIP Judas, too gay to live 😔

Trial before pilate-

• He called Jesus a clown, bitch this isn't Godspell

• Ouchie

• That's a lot of blood

• It's easy to overact in the role of pilate and this guy isn't doing that, which is good

Superstar-

• I prefer when Judas is wearing white in this song, but the glittery red robe kinda slays ngl

• And once again judas is a pretty boy

• They kept the "jesus christ, Jesus christ, who are you what have you sacrificed" line in English

• Oop the robe is off

• Get those dance moves judas damn

• This is insane

• What is happening

• Why am I turned on

John 19:41-

• Ooh this is rather scary

• The way its literally just him on stage suffering is pretty intense

• IT IS FINISHED

Hope you enjoyed sluts

[mysticalrambling]

Hi this is mine request, y/n and chris (evans) are married and the have 2 kids, Emma and Jason, and y/n takes Emma to get there nails and hair done they have a girls day , while the boys a a boys day at home, and when y/n and Emma comes home, the boys have cooked dinner for the girls and later that night the have a family movie night, in matching pyjama's

A/N: I loved the plot line and I was happy to write about it. This is what I came up with and I might have added a few more things to the plot line. I love dad Chris Evans and I would love to write more about him. Hope you guys like it and please tell me what you think about it.

._._._._._.

Family Time (C.E)

Chris Evans Fanfiction (Fanfiction Master list)

Warnings: None. Fluff all the way.

Summary: dad! Chris Evans x reader. Chris and the reader spends the whole day with their family. They enjoy the free day with their children and enjoy every moment of it.

._._._._._.

Having two kids was a bittersweet experience for the two of you as they were close in age so they fought a lot. It could be over the simplest of things such as who will eat in which bowl or who will cuddle with daddy at night. Emma and Jason loved each other to death but Jason being the elder was sometimes a little too stubborn. The one thing that always came as a shock to Chris’s family was that your son was a total daddy’s boy and vice versa for your daughter. Your family was always a little different from the others and you loved it.

“Mommy, Jacey pulled on my hair and threw my dollies to the ground.” Fat tears poured down her baby blue eyes as she jumped on your shared bed, effectively waking you both up. Chris just groaned and buried his head in the soft pillows and hands placed on his ears. You didn’t blame him, you both were up pretty late last night because Jason had a severe stomach ache. But he was okay now, considering he was busy annoying his younger sister.

“I will scold him but can you lie down with daddy now so I could freshen up and make you guys breakfast.”

“But I want to stay with you-,” she began to protest and you quickly silenced her by promising a girls only day.

“Besides, you don’t want to cuddle with daddy?” Chris growled playfully and started tickling your three and a half year old daughter. Taking this as your cue to leave, you went to the washroom. Meanwhile, Jason also joined the two of them in bed and lazed around for the whole morning, You prepared pancakes and scrambled eggs that was your family’s favorite breakfast and put out some dog food for Dodger.

“I want dad to feed me today.” Your five year old son declared when Emma sat on Chris’s lap to be pampered by him.

You sensed a fight heading towards the dining room and you quickly tried to diffuse the situation. “You are going to spend the whole day with your father today so let him feed Emma, please.” He huffed out a fine and you cut his pancakes in to little pieces.

“I am thinking of taking James to do some grocery shopping and then spend the whole day at home.” Chris was free today because his shooting does not start until Monday and he wanted to spend as much time possible with his family before he gets busy. He always hated being apart from you guys and would feel bad if he missed out an important step in his children’s life because of his career. You guys were truly blessed to have him in your life.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I will get them both ready for the day and then we can all get on with our day.” Pecking him on the lips, you took the kids to your room and Chris went to clean the dishes.

“Mommy, I don’t want to sit in the booster seat. I want to sit with you.”

“No, baby, it is not safe.” She was hell bent on her request today and you just ran out of patience. Snapping at her, you were instantly filled with guilt because tears pooled in her eyes.

“Darling, I am sorry. Babe, can you drop Emma and I at the parlor before going to the supermarket?”

“Sure. Just let me get my keys.” Sitting in the middle of two booster seats was highly uncomfortable but you would do it for your children. The whole car ride was filled with both the kids babbling about their school and day care respectively. Your husband silently made eye contact with you from the rearview mirror and you knew he was thanking you. “When should I pick you both up?”

“I’ll text you half an hour earlier.” Getting Emma out of her seat, you walked towards your favorite salon. You already knew that Emma wanted a mixture of blue and pink nail polish because colors are gender neutral. Chris always made sure that your kids never follow the obscene rules set by the society.

“We are going to have so much fun, mommy.” The little girl skipped towards the reception and stood on her tip toes to see you make the reservation.

“Baby, do you want to get a haircut as well?”

“Are you getting one?”

“Yes.”

“Then I want one as well.” The receptionist smiled at your daughter’s excitement and complimented her saying that she looked just like Chris. Emma puffed out her cheeks and mumbled, “I look like my mommy.”

“Sorry. You are a carbon copy of your mother. Now, I have you two stationed right next to each other and you have manicure first.”

On the other side, Chris sat his little boy in the trolley and marveled at how big he was slowly getting. He had decided to properly pamper his family today and an Italian dinner was just a start. One of the things that you always craved in both your pregnancies was his pasta pomodoro and he sometimes had to make it at three in the morning to satisfy your cravings.

“Daddy, can I get some cookies?”

“Yes, but only one because we don’t want you to have stomach ache.” Chris quickly finished the grocery shopping and then went in to Cartier. Pampering his girls was his top most priority today so he had already ordered a bracelet for you with all of the family’s birth stones engraved in it, He also ordered the same exact bracelet for his baby girl just in a smaller size. Emma always wanted the same exact things as her mother and Chris always tried to fulfill her wish.

“Can we get them some pretty flowers, as well?” Quickly, he wiped all the cookie crumbles from Jason’s face and agreed with him. They decided on getting them some pink roses because you both loved them.

The moment they arrived at the house, they quickly got to cooking but Chris made sure that he went no way near the stove. He was given the task to open up the spaghetti packet and picking out the red carrots.

Meanwhile, you both got your nails done with you opting for a bright yellow colour. Chris’s favorite colour. You got your hair cut in square layers while Emma just got a nice trim for her dirty blonde hair. Both the kids had inherited Chris’s hair and eyes but the nose and the smile was all you. During the whole time, you and your daughter talked about anything and everything. She talked about the cute boy in her daycare and how she wanted to be his friend but she got a whole circus running around in her tummy.You just chuckled and thought to not tell Chris because he will freak out and bully that poor boy.

After about two hours, Chris and James came to pick you both up and the whole way back, both the kids kept bickering with each other. The moment you opened the front door to your house, your favorite aroma hit you and a blissful sigh escaped your lips. “Have I told you this new look suits you a lot?” Your husband took you in a backside hug while both your munchkins ran towards the dining room.

“Just like a thousand times from the moment you picked us up. Is this dinner a hint?”

“Well, it’s true and maybe it is.” You kissed him slowly on the lips because the prospect of another kid was exciting to say the least.

“Daddy, I want the pasta!” Emma screamed from across the hallway and you both made your way towards them. The dining was all set and the kids were already sitting at their assigned places with their plastic forks in hand. Chris quickly served the food and you all got to eating. Dodger was sitting by your chair and happily munching on his food. Making silent eye contact with your husband, you guys silently agreed on having another kid. You were thrilled.

They all went to their rooms and came out in their matching Captain America pjs that Chris bought from Los Angeles the last time he was there for shooting. He always loved the idea of twinning with his famiily.

“We have a little surprise for you, don’t we, Jason?” The boy ran towards the living room and you all followed suit. Chris gave you a bouquet with a red long box and Jason did the same but with a smaller size to his baby sister.

The moment you saw the content in the jewelry box, tears welled up in your eyes. This was such a thoughtful gift and there was an empty place in the bracelet for a new gemstone. “You thought of everything, didn’t you?”

“I am giving you a lot of hints, here.”

“You don’t have to convince me, baby. I was thinking about this as well.”

“Then, it’s done. Baby number three of our family.”

“Thank you, daddy,” Emma jumped on Chris from the back and he immediately caught her in his arms.

“No problem, baby. Which movie do you guys want to watch?” He asked but he already knew the answer.

“Lion King!” There were a lot of things that your kids didn’t agree with but this was an exception. They were both die hard fans of Lion King.

“Aw, I thought we will watch Captain America today. But that’s okay, I guess.” He pretended to be hurt by their answer but the kids took it seriously.

“No, daddy. We love Captain America and we can watch it today.” Little hands cupped his light stubbled cheeks and Chris just smiled at his two babies. He was so lucky to have them and he could not wait for a third one.

“It’s okay, bubs. I was just kidding, We can watch it tomorrow. Today is Lion King’s day.” They all got together under the blanket and kept all the snacks on their laps. This was what Chris wanted the whole day; his whole family under his arms, happy.

“I love you.” He whispered to you while you cleaned off Emma’s sticky fingers and the drool on Jason’s chin.

“I love you, too.” You spent the whole night on that couch and somewhere in between the movie, Dodger came up and cuddled to your side. Your life was blissful and it was all because of Chris, the love of your life.

Hope you guys liked it!!

._._._._._.

A/N: This is just some family dribble that I wrote related to Chris Evans. I just love the idea of dad Chris. Send me some ideas related to Chris as a family man and I will be happy to write about it. Tell me if you wanted to be in the taglist.

Tag list: @maximeevansblog, @justile 

Like, comment and reblog.

._._._._._.

[namusthetic]

BTS' aesthetics as your friends pt. 1 - Rapline

Imagine BTS' aesthetics as your friends.

Or you can just choose the one that fits better your personality / aesthetic.

(with playlists)

Notice:

Please remember that these are character aesthetics with traits that I made up. I am not stereotyping anyone nor do I associate them with real people. I hope you can enjoy them, even those who are not BTS' fans.

Jooncore

proud plant parent, talks regularly to their babies even letting them listen to music because "research shows it has a positive impact on their growth"

appreciates the smallest and simplest things/actions

eats healthy and is probably a vegetarian

soft but ready to fight when human rights are involved

works better at night but still tries to keep a regular sleeping schedule for their early morning yoga sessions' sake

if they get mad they are likely to lecture you for at least a couple hours on what you did wrong and why

will tell you the right thing to do even if it sounds harsh

is always there to comfort you

knows a ton of small facts about the most strange and unusual topics that they learnt just out of curiosity

stops and turns around just to makes sure no one is left behind and if so waits for them

they won't ever ask, but sometimes they need to be cared for too as they tend to overwork themselves and overthink things

Aesthetic:

Long bicycle rides at sunset, a good book and coffee during a rainy day, fond smiles from a distance and secondhand embarrassment, aesthetic notes and reassuring hugs, impromptu trips at the small library around the corner, long sleeved, warm-toned sweaters and overalls, minimal aesthetic, overstuffed bookshelves and yellow sticky notes, small flowers and headphones.

Playlist:

seoul (prod. HONNE) by RM

Clocks by Coldplay

Where's My Love by SYML

Meet me in the woods by lord Huron

Minimum by Charlie Cunningham

Between Days by Far Caspian

Monsters in the Dark by MyKey

I like me better by Lauv

A Sky Full of Stars by Coldplay

Trivia 承: Love by BTS

Hobicore

the brightest sun of them all

very intimidating when angry

just because they always look happy doesn't mean they are

"go hard or go home" mindset

wears bright colors and bucket hats

always humming/singing to themselves

a bit oblivious when it comes to affection

if they let you see them sad/down it means you are really important to them and they trust you

tries to keep their problems to themselves because they don't want others to worry

dancing around and fidgeting, can't stay still

Their hugs feel like everything being alright

Aesthetic

Handmade anklets, bracelets with colored beads, roller-skates and milkshakes, high-energy and warm hugs, freckles and busking in the sunlight, the smell of salt and sunscreen on your skin, bright smiles and loud laughter, loudly calling someone from across the street and waving, feeling like you just can't look away, a colorful but comfy style

Playlist:

Hope World by J-Hope

Another One Bites The Dust by Queen

Telepathy by BTS

Sober by Childish Gambino

Thruth Hurts by Lizzo

Sunday Best by Surfaces

Daydream by J-Hope

24k Magic by Bruno Mars

Mine by Bazzi

Say So by Doja Cat

Outro: Ego by BTS

Yoongicore

it's always a good time for a coffee break

somehow always looks tired

"I mean, if you pay me enough anything can happen"

night owl, stays up late at night to finish work

subtly takes care of those important to them

savage if provoked

sarcasm is their preferred defense mechanism

dislikes society and people in general, except for a few choosen ones

tries to keep to themselves but is always ready to fight for the right cause

actually a softie, just needs a hug sometimes

seems cold but is actually very observant and attentive of others' emotions

will take you out for food and listen to your problems

likes holding hands but would rather die than admit it

grew up too fast

Aesthetic

Tired eyes and shy smiles, takeaway food and espressos, ripped jeans and fishnets, black nail polish and beanies, dark circles and dyed hair that look soft to the touch, coming back home after a long stressful day and falling on your bed with a sigh, the sounds of the city at night, waiting for the last stop on the train

Playlist:

The Sixth Station by Smyang Piano

listen before i go by Billie Eilish

Void by The Neighborhood

Slow Dancing in the Dark by Joji

The Midnight Sun By C Duncan

Awake at Night by Half Alive

After Hours by The Weeknd

One For The Road by Arctic Monkeys

Ghost by Halsey

Otherside by Post Malone

People by Agust D

Trivia 轉 : Seesaw by BTS

___________________________🌠

Hello everyone!!! ( ^ ▽ ^ )/

So here I am with BTS-related moodboards again!!

I'll post the vocal line soon eheh~

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine:

M’Baku and Erik have the pleasure of sharing a woman for one night. It turns into a regular routine of threesomes. She gets pregnant, and doesn’t know which one of them could be the father.

Warnings: Smut, pregnancy kink, threesome first time writing for M’Baku.

“I think you need to come to your senses,” M’Baku laughs loud and booming before approaching his friend, Erik, shoving the young man roughly against his left shoulder, “Zalika is mine, Erik, and I don’t like it when what’s mine is messed with.”

“Oh, so that’s a threat? Remember, she approached me first, way before she even knew we were friends,” Erik uses both of his hands to shove M’Baku back harder, “and DONT put your fucking hands on me unless you wanna die, brother,” Erik spoke snidely with a warning finger almost stabbing M’Baku in his face before readjusting his suit jacket, a mug set on his handsome, chiseled face. 

“OH! So that is the excuse you give? So she approaches you...but plans a booty call with me?” M’Baku says with his strong and powerful African accent, “Who has the upper hand now, brother, hm? Looks like I will finally get to taste the cocoa beauty. I bet she tastes just like cacao beans to,” M’Baku’s thick, taffy colored tongue swipes across his full upper lip before his teeth lined with silver caps tugged sexily on his bottom lip.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. It looks like I’m fucking her from the texts she sent me...texting me pictures of that phat peace of pussy covered with lace panties between her thighs...telling a nigga to come over and suck up her pussy in my mouth...she say that to you? Baku?” Erik gives M’Baku a sly smirk.

“I’ll do you one better,” M’Baku pulls out his phone, “Last text she sent me was this,” M’Baku held up his phone towards Erik for him to see. M’Baku’s loud laugh almost rattled the walls when he looked at Erik’s stuck expression. Erik removes his gold-rimmed glass, eyes blinking with disbelief while his lips parted. 

“Sheeeeesh,” Erik’s pouty bottom lip dragged between his teeth, “She ain’t send a nigga that...she got them big, suckable nipples…” 

“Even through her wet T-shirt they look delicious...like they want to rip through, right?” M’Baku grunts deeply enough to vibrate your senses, “I plan on biting them with my teeth...leave a mark.”

Erik removes his suit jacket, hanging it up on a brass coat rack that stood at the entrance of his apartment door. He takes a seat next to M’Baku on a black suede sectional, leaning over in hopes of catching another sexy photo of Zalika. M’Baku quickly locks his phone before tucking it in the pocket of his slacks, standing from the couch. 

“I showed you one photo, you don’t need to see the rest. It gets better and better... what is one photo to the amount that I have from her alone,” M’Baku spoke in a cocky manner. 

“Let me see you match what I got. And just because I told you about one photo, that doesn’t mean it’s just one,” Erik pulls out his phone, “You see this?” Erik swipes his finger up and up to show all the sexy photos Zalika sent him. He looks from M’Baku to his phone, eyebrows raised in challenge, “That’s about a good 20 photos right there for me to bust a nut to so what’s up?” 

“Says the man who will be in here for the rest of the evening while I go spend time with Zalika myself. Did I tell you how much she loves it when I speak Xhosa? She says it makes her pussy nice and wet for me.”

“Wow, that's it? Damn, she tells you how wet she is,” Erik strokes his chin, “While she shows me how wet she is…” Erik hummed, “And it gets wet...tastes good too-

“YOU FUCKED HER?” M’Baku damn near charged over to Erik, his 6’5, 250lbs body right above him while he sat back on the couch with a nonchalant expression.

“Nah, She just let me suck her fingers that’s all,” Erik spoke casually, knowing that it would piss M’Baku off, “She’s a creamer too, I can almost taste how sweet that pussy is,” Erik makes multiple slurping sounds with his mouth and tongue, laughing at how angry M’Baku looked at the moment. Erik was almost to tears while bending over with his hand clutching his abs. 

M’Baku was seething, teeth flared, before walking away to pace back and forth, “I will see her today, we are going to talk about this. I don’t like being played with. She’s confused and if I have to make her come to a decision, I will, even if that means stuffing my dick down her throat.” 

“She ain’t confused. It’s obvious, right? She wants two dicks instead of one. Like I said, she knows that me and you are cool. Let’s just give her little ass what she wants. It’s been a minute since we shared some pussy...remember Michelle from grad school? Remember how we tore that up?”

“Michelle...oh, yes...Michelle,” M’Baku gives a knowing smirk, “I wonder how she’s doing.” 

“Shee old news, Baku, let’s focus on Zalika. You’re seeing her in class tonight...invite her over,” Erik says with a roguish grin.

“I told you, I don’t want to share her,” M’Baku spoke through clenched teeth, “Like it or not, Erik, she is mine. Don’t you have other options? You could have any other girl on your phone but instead you want Zalika? Let me have her...I want her so fucking bad I just might handle her after class myself.”

“Yeah, we’ll see...if she hits me up tonight with that wyd text I’m putting this steel on her,” He says with a subtle arch of his brow, “you don’t think I want a piece of that puss just as much as you?”

_________

Zalika walked into her evening class, an Xhosa language course. It’s an elective that was a new edition to UCLA. The sprinkling of thirteen students were listening attentively to Professor M’Baku fluently speak the Bantu language of South Africa. Zalika’s father is from Botswana and he moved to California for med school where he met Zalika’s mother, an Art History Major. She always wanted to learn how to speak Xhosa and when Professor M’Baku who is also her English professor told her about the evening course she added it to her already overwhelming schedule. The wedges on Zalika’s feet clattered against the polished tile floor all the way to her designated seat; seat number three, in the front row. The intense, masculine aroma that Zalika damn near memorized within her senses made her smile the minute she planted her round, dark chocolate ass down in her seat. 

“U-Miss Zalika,” M’Baku says, stilling Zalika’s movements, “kuhlwile kwakhona?”

“....uhm...Intoni?” Zalika adjusts her black, cat-eyed frames lined with rhinestones.

“How long have you been coming to my class and all you can say to me is WHAT?” M’Baku squints at her.

“I’m sorry, I have other classes and...it’s becoming overwhelming, Sir, that’s all-

“No excuses,” M’Baku pushes up the sleeves to his navy blue dress shirt aggressively, “kufuneka sithatha.”

The clicks he made with his tongue whenever he spoke Xhosa has Zalika sucking the gloss off of her bottom lip and pressing her inner thighs together. She could understand him clearly but he didn’t need to know that. Just what did they need to talk about exactly? Everything seemed to be going smoothly between them. Zalika opens her designated notebook for the course, turning it sideways so that she could look over the Xhosa alphabet. Learning the click constants was their focus lately and Zalika found it hard to keep up, pulling extra time to study them whenever she had downtime like doing her laundry or cooking dinner. 

For the remainder of the class, Zalika took notes and practiced Xhosa phrases and click constants with a classmate. Whenever she had a question, Zalika would call for M’Baku in Xhosa like he instructed his students to do for added practice. He would squeeze Zalika’s shoulder gently while leaning over her desk, helping her sound out the phrases and occasionally glancing at her. His eyes would travel from her glossy lips all the way down to smooth, dark chocolate cleavage. This thick, tall, beautiful African man with such a stern voice and obvious ruthless personality turned Zalika on heavily, so heavy that she wanted to make his face a seat while he growled into her folds. 

After the class, all the students filled out except for Zalika who lingered behind acting as if she needed to ask Professor M’Baku a question. While he wiped down the white board, Zalika watched the door softly close shut leaving the both of them alone finally. As her eyes went back to M’Baku he gave her a cunning smile before strolling over to her. She held her ground but the more he approached, the more Zalika realized just how big, and intimidating this man is. 6’5 and 250 lbs stood before her. He crosses his thick, beefy arms across his chest, the outline of the tattoo on his arm teasing her eyes.

“You wanted to talk?” Zalika finally says.

“Let’s get straight to the point, yes? What are you doing with me, hm?” He asks with his profound voice ringing in her ears. 

“Having fun...what else?” Zalika grabs M’Baku’s tie, twirling it around her finger, twisting it tightly, “You don’t want to have fun with me?” 

“You call this fun? Toying with me? Let me tell you something, Zalika...I plan on handling you properly...tonight. Why are you talking to Erik? Who do you belong to?” 

Every time Zalika tried to speak M’Baku would cut her breath short. 

“Can I speak?” Zalika spoke defensively.

“...Yes,” M’Baku reluctantly says before leaning on the edge of his desk. Zalika’s eyes swept the classroom before they fell back on M’Baku.

“I’m feeling Erik too. I’m feeling both of you, actually.”

The muscles in M’Baku’s jaw popped out from grinding his teeth hard. His eyes narrowed at Zalika for a long time. He could taste the anger on his tongue from her words. Erik was right, Zalika wanted both of them to herself. Standing there in front of him with tight leggings, a very revealing top, and heels on her feet, M’Baku couldn’t be angry with her. She smelled like strawberries and her dark chocolate skin glistened. Whatever this woman wanted he would give her. Anything to have her; taste her. She gave M’Baku a kittenish smile while fluttering her lashes at him slowly. 

“I know I should have told you that I was talking to him as well, I apologize for that. I just...I can’t help my feelings towards the both of you…” Zalika approaches M’Baku, standing between his legs and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, “Baku…” she whispered, “Please don’t be mad at me, daddy...I just want to see what it will be like if I had both of you to myself…”

“Fuck, Zalika,” M’Baku’s shoulders slumped with defeat, “Look at what you do to me girl.”

“Huh?” Zalika spoke breathlessly. M’Baku grabs one of her arms from around his neck, dropping it over his crotch. Her hand drags down, mouth widening and eyes falling to his lap. 

“Daddy...this is all of you?” 

“Not all of me,” M’Baku spoke dangerously, “You have played with me long enough, Zalika, it’s time you take care of your master...emadolweni akho.”

Zalika drops to her knees almost instantly, a voracious look in her eyes as she watches M’Baku pull his slacks down with his briefs. The beauty of his big black dick couldn’t be put into words. It is very very girthy. Damn...Zalika wanted to ride that dick. Ain’t nothing like a black man’s dick, she thought before grabbing him, wrapping her hand around him as best as she could. She could feel the power that he beholden from how much he pulsates in the palm of her hand. This would definitely hurt but she wouldn’t chicken out on the opportunity. There is a first for everything. 

“Focus on all of me. There are too many parts untouched...unappreciated,” M’Baku unbuttons his dress shirt, his thick torso revealed to her, “you said you love sucking dick? Worship me then.”

Zalika stares at his thick, mammoth of a dick with bewildered eyes, “Baku...I don’t think I can.”

M’Baku fusses in Xhosa, “Open your mouth, girl.”

“And here I thought Erik’s dick was huge,” Zalika spoke under her breath.

“What was that?” M’Baku pulls on Zalika’s 4C fro to make her look up at him, “Did I hear you use Erik’s name with my dick in your hand? HUH? Who are you supposed to be focusing on at the moment!”

“You,” Zalika spoke quickly, bringing M’Baku’s dick to her mouth to slap her lips with it, eyes pleading, “You, daddy, you,” She opens wide, sinking him into her mouth with timid eyes. Her throat kept clenching up on her so Zalika had to pull him from her mouth, hawk spit on it a few times, before trying again. With the added moisture she was able to get about three inches of him inside.

“FUCK ZALIKA!” M’Baku hisses, “I finally got you, girl...I finally got my dick in your beautiful mouth. I would have done anything to get my dick in your mouth...now I need it in that sweet pussy, girl.” 

“Mm-

“Take it easy, Zalika, you will take your time when sucking me, girl, I don’t like it when you rush.” 

“EK!” Zalika gagged, “ghah, ghah, ghah,” she squeezes her eyes as her throat closes up. 

“Mmm, Zalika,” M’Baku wipes her tears away, “sloppy and slow is exactly how I like it...keep going, girl.”

“I can’t, you’re so big in my mouth,” Zalika’s bottom lip quivered from being stretched, “Baku, I can’t it’s so much-

Zalika was silenced with M’Baku’a dick back in her mouth. She grabbed for his legs, squeezing his enormous calves each time his dick hit the back of her throat. She was going to have a sore throat after this. 

“That’s it, girl, yesssssss, FUCK ZALIKA. Did you let Erik have this mouth too? You don’t have to talk, just nod your head...did he have this mouth before me?”

Zalika shakes her head no while M’Baku’s smooth, ebony dick barley slides in and out of her mouth. 

“Very good,” M’Baku’s lips poked out and his eyes rolled back, “fuck ewe...fuck ewe...uziva ulungile,” M’Baku’s hips were off of the desk, one large hand on the back of her head to keep her in place while his vast dick released a plentiful amount of cum. No wonder, his balls are heavy and big. She could feel the cum that couldn’t fit down her throat fall to her cleavage. 

“Look at me, Zalika,” he asked with a shallow breath escaping his mouth.

Zalika met his eyes while wiping his cum from her cheeks.

“If I find out that you fucked Erik, I will fuck the living shit out of you,” he spoke evenly with vengeful eyes, “I will not be gentle, entle, I will show you just how angry I am when I punish that sweet pussy, girl.” 

That was a challenge for her. Rubbing her throat, Zalika nods, unable to properly speak since M’Baku abused her vocal cords. 

___________

Erik was just stepping out of his shower when he heard M’Baku, his roommate and best friend enter the luxury apartment. It was way past the time for him to be home from his evening class and the thought of that alone has Erik squeezing the hell out of his bottle of body wash, spilling the contents to the bathroom floor. Frustrated, Erik takes a hand towel to clean it up, his other hand trying to keep the fluffy black towel around his waist together. Balling it up and tossing it in a linen wicker basket in the bathroom, Erik steps from the bathroom, M’Baku making his way down the hall with his work satchel in one hand, and his suit jacket in the other. M’Baku couldn’t fight the evil grin on his face when he noticed Erik’s irritation.

“You fucked her, didn’t you?” 

M’Baku chuckles while opening his bedroom door, “Good night, brother.”

The humor laced in his voice made Erik’s blood boil and his water stricken skin gave his lean muscles more definition as they flexed with rage.

“Did she tell you about me?” Erik is standing in M’Baku’s doorway now with his towel hanging on for dear life around his tapered hips, “cuz last time I checked she still hitting my phone.” 

“She did,” M’Baku removes his tie, “But after what I gave her tonight, you can forget everything. She knows who her real daddy is.”

“Nah, we’ll see about that,” Erik challenged M’Baku Before walking away and towards his bedroom. Once he is inside, Erik closes his door, grabbing his cell from the bed and automatically calls Zalika. She answers on the third ring, her sweet, airy voice making his dick twitch. 

“Baby girl,” Erik spoke with a hushed tone, “You want me to come over there and beat that ass?”

“Hello to you too, Erik,” Zalika responds, “and why are you threatening to spank me?”

“M’Baku is back home...he told me that he gave you something tonight...you mind telling me what that something is?”

“Teh,” Zalika sassed, “It’s no concern of yours, E, all you need to worry about is me and you.”

“Zalika, I’m not playing with you...did he hit that puss?” 

“...no,” Zalika finally says, “But I did suck his dick.”

“Hmm,” Erik hummed into the phone, the sound vibrating into Zalika’s ear, “You’re a nasty bitch, Zalika. Couldn’t control yourself, could you?”

“He made me...I liked it though...I haven’t had dick in my mouth for a long time…my throat is still pretty sore.”

“Fuck,” Erik pulls his towel from his waist, “If you’re such a slut it shouldn’t matter how sore that throat is...you’ll want more dick, right?”

“True...what? You got more for me?”

“Why don’t you come through...I’ll show you.” 

“M’Baku is home,” Zalika says, “Wouldn’t he hear?”

“Girl, I don’t give a fuck about that. I pay the bills in this bitch too so what? He ain’t got control over this. You coming over or what?” Erik spoke with malice. 

The aggression in both of them is one of the reasons why Zalika can’t leave both men alone. She first met Erik on campus as a substitute teacher for a physics course. He’s a Radiological Physicist. The chemistry between them both was undeniable and Zalika needed to see him outside of class. Since she wants to be an engineer herself, she would schedule tutoring time with Erik at the schools library and that’s when they exchanged numbers and started sexting. 

“Yeah, I’ll come over, daddy,” Zalika says with a seductive voice, “Keep that dick nice and hard for me.”

“I’m getting some of that puss too, Zalika...you show up at my door I’m using both of your holes to empty my nut and think I’m playing,” Erik warns.

“Unh,” Zalika moans. 

“Had me waiting way too long for you, ma...can’t wait to beat it up,” He spoke with a rough tone, “Hurry up.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Get off the phone,” Erik ordered and then soon after, the call ended.

The wait will finally be over, he was about to dive in that wet ass pussy he’d been longing for. She is freaky on the phone. She better be just as freaky in person. All of that stop, it’s too big, I can’t take it, all of that shit will not stop Erik from tearing her little ass up. Have her walking funny and feeling his fat ass dick in her pussy forever. M’Baku wasn’t a heavy sleeper so he will hear everything from her moans to her cheeks clapping and Erik didn’t give a fuck. He offered to share her since Zalika wanted them both but M’Baku wanted to be possessive of the girl. She wants BOTH OF THEM. One dick in her mouth, and one in her pussy. 

Erik rubs his body down with some cocoa butter and puts on a pair of drawstring shorts to lounge around until Zalika finally shows up. Erik shot her a quick text letting her know what the apartment number was and not to park in a number spot. He only had to wait twenty minutes, the faint knocks on the door made Erik aware of that. Leaving his bedroom, Erik strolls to the door, opening it to find Zalika standing before him in a T-shirt dress, some sandals, and her kinky afro picked out and full. Her lips are painted a matte brown and when she smiles her white teeth almost blinded him. He could smell the coconut oil on her skin and she wasn’t even up under his nose yet. 

“Don’t be shy,” Erik held the door open further, “I won’t bite unless you want me to.”

“We’ll see about that,” She steps inside, looking around the spacious luxury apartment before turning back to Erik for direction, “It’s nice...looks like a bachelor pad...where’s your room?”

“So damn eager...you don’t want anything to drink?” Erik leads the way further into the apartment, “We got water, apple juice, papaya juice, something stronger…”

“I’m good for now, I’m gonna need it after we...you know…” she giggles, looking down at her toes.

“Fuck. Yeah, you gon’ need that,” Erik grabs Zalika’s soft hand, “Let’s go, ma-

“Where is M’Baku?” She asked with a hushed tone.

“Shh,” Erik says with a finger to his mouth. He points to M’Baku’s bedroom with his thumb while they walked to his room, “He’s in there...you wanna say hi or something? You’re here for me, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, it’s just...he’ll hear us…” Zalika stood rooted to the spot in front of M’Baku’s door.

“Yeah, I don’t give a fuck about that shit. I told him we can make it a threesome thing but he wasn’t with it, that’s his loss,” Erik pulls on Zalika’s hand, making her move, “Nah, let’s go, you got some making up to do with all that teasing shit.” 

“Threesome?” Zalika says with an elevated tone, “You would like that?”

“We’ve done it before, ain’t no problem with me.”

Erik pushes his bedroom door open with his shoulder, turning to grab both of Zalika’s hands. He finally had her in his bedroom. All of that freaky shit she said she could do he wanted to see it for himself. Zalika took a seat on Erik’s bed, her feet slipping out of her sandals before laying back against his bed. She placed her keys and her shoulder bag to the side, her eager eyes studying Erik’s bedroom. 

“Get comfortable, you know, but ass naked,” Erik says while removing his own clothing, “and spread your thighs for me too...remember you told me how you like that puss licked?”

“From the back,” Zalika spoke breathlessly while lifting her T-shirt dress up and above her head. She then takes off her bra and panties, dropping those to the floor as well before laying back, titties spreading to the side from how heavy they are, smoothing her hands down her petite waistline before bringing her thighs up and out. The sound of her pussy lips spreading is what caught Erik’s attention first. 

“That puss is just waiting for my tongue...it’s even prettier in person.”

“Let’s see what that tongue can do,” Zalika spreads her plump pussy lips for Erik to see, “Come and taste me, daddy.”

________________

M’Baku was in the middle of dozing off with his Beats headphones on and a Wakandan rap artist named SS1CASH’s music playing. Something, maybe a small voice inside of his head told him to wake up. M’Baku removes his headphones, placing them on his bed before stretching his large, thickset arms above his head, one hand coming down to scratch the tight, 4C coils on his head. He didn’t have anywhere to be the next day since it was a Saturday so M’Baku decides to pull an all-nighter to grade the English papers that are piled high on his desk. 

Swinging his weighty legs over his king sized bed, M’Baku stands, grabbing his glasses before walking to his bedroom door. He felt parched and needed some papaya juice to hydrate himself. On his way out, M’Baku hears a soft, feminine moan from down the hall. Pausing, M’Baku waits for the lovely sound to grace his ears again. Please, don’t let it be who I think it is, he thought. As if reading his thoughts, the same, pleasure-filled sound fills the darkened hallway again and before M’Baku could stop himself he is walking towards Erik’s door. 

Of course it has to be Zalika. That moan sounded too familiar and the way it has his almighty girthy dick stiff and compressed in his briefs it had to be his Zalika. What was he doing to her at this precise moment that has her gasping and moaning with such blissful surprise that she can’t believe her body is reacting the way it is? At Erik’s door, M’Baku’s large hand grabs the satin nickel door knob, twisting it quietly before pushing it open enough so he could peek inside. The sound of her moans intensified, M’Baku’s brown eyes widening when they fell upon the nasty sight before him.

Zalika is fully naked and riding Erik’s face on his bed, her wide ass bouncing, grinding her pussy on his open mouth. Each time Zalika’s cheeks would spread from her continuous ass popping her pink slit and puffy, chocolate outer lips would grace his eyes. Erik’s tongue was flat and thick, licking up and down her pussy while his hands rubbed the back of Zalika’s thighs and occasionally went up to give her generous cheeks a slap. Yes, yes, yes fell from Zalika’s mouth with her head towards the ceiling. She was loving that tongue, her body visibly shaking. 

M’Baku’s dick was ready to fucking bust. Staring at it, his girthy dick was pointed straight out, the tip of his dick peeking through the opening of his briefs. He wanted to yank Erik’s vertebrae through his throat at first but the more he watched the more he concluded that seeing his best friend tongue fuck and slurp all over Zalika’s beautiful puss has him horny and ready to join. He wanted a taste of her now, especially that puckered ass hole. He dreamed of training her tight ass to fit his thickness knowing that it will be too much for her. It wasn’t M’Baku’s first time seeing Erik in his naked grandeur. Erik’s chiseled hips were pumping the air like there was a pussy situated over his dick for him to sink into. 

“What a yummy, puffy pussy, ma,” Erik says with his voice much deeper, “Mmm I’d suck on this pussy all fucking day,” he goes back to devouring Zalika like pussy is his favorite meal. It’s M’Baku’s favorite meal too. All that cream just leaking on Erik’s tongue. Her pussy is nice and bald, plump, and juicy. What a beautiful picture of a beautiful body piece. M’Baku would love to put a lip lock on her and snatch. 

“Unh, Erik right there, Unh, yes Erik right fucking there, daddy, fuck,” Zalika lets out ragged breaths, “daddy keep doing that I’m gonna cum.”

That’s what made M’Baku approach the both of them within long strides, grabbing a fist full of Zalika’s kinky afro, extending her he’d back so far her eyes widened with fear, she couldn’t see him correctly because of the position so her eyes looked towards her peripheral, that same strong, masculine scent crowding her like it always did in class. Erik notices the change in Zalika’s movements, lifting his face from between her legs to find M’Baku yoking her up by her hair, so close to her face with fury that Zalika was whimpering. Erik didn’t say anything, didn’t care to be honest. He simply takes three fingers, slipping them inside of Zalika’s pussy and starts finger popping her pussy. 

“Baku...Unh shit, Erik...Baku, daddy,” M’Baku wasn’t sure who she was calling daddy at the moment since Erik was curling his fat fingers inside of her, “Baku, I’m sorry-

“It’s too late for that, girl...I already caught you riding my best friends tongue...no need to lie about how it felt...I know it felt good,” M’Baku glances over at Erik, locking eyes with his friend before both of them share identical sly smirks, “Keep going, Erik, dig deep and don’t let up until she’s cumming hard.”

“Erik-

“Since you’re here, bro, why don’t you fill that mouth up...she said her throat was sore let’s see if it’s still like that,” Erik spoke harshly, “ooookayyyy, that pussy got a nice grip,” Erik’s free hand comes down to slap her ass.

M’Baku pulls his briefs off, grabbing his chocolate dick in one hand, tapping Zalika’s lips with it, “You are amazingly talented, why don’t you show Erik how you suck dick, hmm?” M’Baku rubs his dick against Zalika’s lips, “come on, girl, suck your master.” 

“Damn,” Erik strains his neck to watch Zalika take M’Baku in with difficulty, “She is trying her hardest to fit them big lips around your dick...too much dick, Zalika?”

“Damn it!!” M’Baku says through clenched teeth, “Fucking pro,” M’Baku grabs both sides of her head, “THATS it girl, you are special, love, so special.” 

Hrgurrk!!!” She gags, trying her absolute best to fill her mouth up with M’Baku’s dick but there is no use, this man’s dick is inhuman. All that Wakandan strength he’s yielding in his dick...her throat is no match. Erik pulls his fingers out to rub Zalika’s clit, his eyes envious of M’Baku being slobbered on. 

“Do that shit bitch! I need that shit right there,” Erik says while rubbing his drenched fingers all over her pussy, “she the real deal, Baku let me get some of that.”

“Here,” M’Baku pulls his dick out of Zalika’s mouth, watching her exhale, “Come fuck her throat up.”

Erik sucks Zalika’s mess from his fingers before trading places with M’Baku, eagerly grabbing his long and girthy dick up. M’Baku gets down on his knees behind Zalika, dick in one hand while the other one grabs one of her ass cheeks firmly, spreading her nice and wide so that he could rub his thick tongue from her pussy to her ass and back. The mess Erik created has M’Baku growling before he buries his face in her pussy. He couldn’t help but to leave a trail of sucks continuously. 

Erik has Zalika’s hair in his hand, moving her head up and down his dick, “Damn, you dangerous with that tongue...that’s a bad bitch,” Erik drags his bottom lip between his teeth, “I love how she sucks dick, got my dick throbbing in her mouth.” 

“The best, right?” M’Baku says between licks, “makes you want to abuse her little throat.”

Zalika’s lips slips off of Erik’s dick with a loud pop, “Umph!!! Baku oh my God,” She jerks Erik’s drool covered dick while looking back at M’Baku, “Daddy suck on my pussy like that, yessssss-

“Aye, pay attention,” Erik turns Zalika’s head around, “Nope, don’t touch my big dick with hands, ma. Mouth, tongue, and throat only, fuck is wrong with you.”

“Yes, daddy, Umph, fuck,” Zalika started sucking with no hands but stops again when M’Baku starts tongue-fucking her ass, “Ooooooo-

“Bitch, you got my dick in front of your face you better come suck this,” Erik orders while yanking her hair, “UH-HUH, fuck yeah,” Erik’s eyes were dark on her, “And don’t let my cum drip down my dick. You better clean up every single drop.” 

“Mhm,” Zalika focused on the dick currently stretching her throat out while grinding her pussy on M’Baku’s tongue. He was right on her clit and each time he sucked Zalika’s body would clench up. She was getting closer and closer while Erik’s balls slapped her chin. 

“I know you wanna cum, girl, cum on daddy’s tongue, baby,” M’Baku spoke into her pussy before wrapping his lips around her clit again. 

“Damn, I’ma fuck you good, Zalika,” Erik could feel his balls growing tighter, a tingling sensation forming, “Ima make you cum all over this dick, ma, fuckkkkk!” 

Erik’s hips began to move faster and faster and faster until he buried his dick down her throat, his thick, tasty cum filling her mouth up. Zalika locked eyes with him while swallowing his nut.

“That’s that nut you’ve been dying to taste, drink it up, ma,” Erik says while focusing on Zalika sucking his dick softly, “You tryna get more?”

Zalika pops her lips off of the tip of his dick, “yeah.”

“Ain’t no more right now you sucked a nigga dry...you plan on giving M’Baku some good suckie-suckie too?”

“Mhm,” Zalika says before bringing her lips down to suck on his balls.

“Damn. Never forget the balls baby,” Erik whispers while jerking his dick.

“Fuck!!!” Zalika shouts, her body shaking from cumming on M’Baku’s tongue, “YES DADDY YES!!”

Erik reaches behind her to slap her ass while M’Baku continues to suck all the cum out of her pussy. Erik couldn’t help but to walk around to see what M’Baku was doing. He has his lips on her clit, sucking slowly, savoring in her sweet taste. Erik leans over, spreading both of Zalika’s ass cheeks before spitting on her ass hole. He takes his finger, bringing it to her ass to rub it. 

“Damn, I can tell you play in this ass girl…my type of woman...super thick and creamy,” Erik sticks his finger in her ass, “You gon’ let me dig in this ass real good?”

“She better,” M’Baku says, his face finally from between her legs and covered in her juices, “I’m fucking that ass too.” 

“It’s your lucky day, baby girl, turn around,” Erik says, watching a weak Zalika flip over onto her back, “There you go, I’m getting in this pussy-

“Fuck!!!” Zalika tries to push at Erik, “Daddy it’s in my stomach that dick is so big!”

M’Baku is walking to stand by Zalika’s face, jerking his dick, “It’s okay, entle, suck my dick.”

“Unh,” Zalika grabs M’Baku’s dick, “This is going inside of my pussy too daddy? This big ass dick?”

“Where ever you want it, I’ll put it, baby,” M’Baku hisses when Her juicy lips wrapped around his girth, “Fuck, mmmm.”

Erik has Zalika’s legs thrown over his shoulders, his hips expertly snapping into hers while grinding them. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of Zalika’s pussy creaming all over him. Her fat pussy fit snugly around him and the more he digs deep the more he wants to fill her pussy up with his cum. That pussy is gripping his dick something serious making his eyes roll. 

“Pussy good, girl,” Erik says between breaths, “got me digging deep baby, so deep...uhmmmm, this pussy is so wet,” Erik pulls his dick out all the way to the tip, “nasty bitch, suck that dick while I fuck this pretty pussy.”

“Dig deeper,” M’Baku says while grabbing her legs, pulling them back, “That’s better, see? She’s opened up a lot more now, fuck her hard, brother.”

“Like this,” Erik leans over her body into a push up position, giving it to Zalika so hard and with long strokes that she takes M’Baku’s dick out of her mouth, hand barely able to grasp it, while staring at Erik with a crease in her brow and low eyes. He kept that same stroke, hips snapping into her and his dick hitting the back of her pussy.

“Fuck,” she says softly, unable to control the tears that fell from her eyes and rolled into her hairline, “fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.” 

“Look at that yummy pussy taking that dick,” M’Baku was fascinated, “Uhmm, make her pussy cum.” 

“Ima make this pussy cum,” Erik repeated.

“Fuck my pussy good, daddy, please, oh my god,” Zalika was in a trance staring at M’Baku’s vast dick in her face and Erik’s dick that is just as whopping digging deep in her pussy. He was aiming for her to feel it push up against her cervix. Her toes curled back so hard it hurt and she would surely have cramps in her toes by tomorrow. 

“Daddy get this pussy, Baku,” Zalika wiggles her tongue, “Slap that fat ass dick on my tongue.”

“Nasty little bitch,” M’Baku bends his knees a little because of his height to slap Zalika’s tongue with his dick. 

Zalika slurps on M’baku’s tip while watching Erik have a blast in her pussy, “Pussy good? Is she good, daddy? Huh? Make your pussy cum.” 

Zalika was on fire, talking shit while taking dick. Her pussy has a mad grip on Erik’s dick. 

“Love to hear a girl talk nasty when I beat it up,” Erik says while rubbing her clit while stroking her pussy.

“Mmmm I wanna fuck her so bad...she’s taking that dick so good,” M’Baku was longing to split Zalika’s pussy in half. 

“I can’t wait to fill this ass up,” Erik spoke with a hushed tone. Sweat poured from his body and it smelled just like the cocoa butter he applied to his skin after he showered. 

“Look at your face, that’s all you need, Zalika, dick all the time,” M’Baku strokes her hair while she sucked the tip of his dick.

“I’d love that,” She says before gasping, “Ima squirt on your dick Erik,” She could hear her pussy making even louder wet sounds now, “it’s coming, daddy, Ima squirt on your dick!”

While Erik was killing her pussy, Zalika acted like the hype man pumping his head up and spewing nasty talk after nasty talk to make her squirt. Erik watched with rapid attention while colorless fluid splashed from Zalika’s pussy while he continued to fuck her. The grip she had on him almost made him cum. Erik pulls out, slapping his dick on her pussy before trading places with M’Baku. 

“Let me,” M’Baku says, being a gentleman and lifting Zalika up to straddle him. With one bulky arm around her waist to lock her down, M’Baku uses his other hand to line his dick up with her pussy. 

“Shit, Baku,” Zalika clenched up when she felt M’Baku trying to get the tip of his dick in, “this big black dick,” Zalika hisses, “oooooo, fuck that’s a big dick, baby...ouch-ouch...daddyyyy.” 

“I know I’m too thick...it will fit, girl, you just gotta let me in,” M’Baku whispers to her, “Why don’t you suck your mess off of Erik while I work this pussy on my dick, hmm?”

“Okay,” Zalika grabs Erik’s creamy dick, going straight to sucking her cum off while keeping eye contact with him. Her taste and Erik’s sexy eyes did distract her enough to let M’Baku slip his dick in. She froze with a mouth full of dick, her hips suspended in the air. 

“Nah, get some more of that dick,” Erik says, slapping her ass, “come on, girl throw that pussy back.” 

“Fuck,” Zalika tries to but she was so wide open it was too much, “Daddy’s dick is so big in my little pussy.”

“Remember how you said you would take me? Show me how you would take me…” M’Baku has both of his hands on her hips, “It’s just my dick, girl...imagine if Erik was in your ass? You would really be crying then.” 

“I’m about to get in that ass now,” Erik says while reaching behind Zalika to stick his finger in her ass again, “Ima put my dick balls deep in this tight ass.” 

“Erik, no,” Zalika looks at him with puppy dog eyes, “Daddy not my ass.”

“I like how you play like you don’t want it,” Erik positions himself behind Zalika, crouching down so he could line his dick up with her ass, “remember you said you wanted me to make this ass a gaping, cum-filled hole?”

“Yes,” She says with a weak voice. Erik could see her ass hole clenching and it made him smile. 

“Hurry up, Erik, I’m ready to fuck her,” M’Baku says impatiently. Erik leans over Zalika’s body with all of his strength keeping him up before grabbing his dick in one hand, pushing it inside of her ass slowly. Zalika’s face was priceless. She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. He pushed in and her ass hole sucked him inside so swiftly she didn't see it coming. Erik felt good in her ass. Tight, thick, and smooth. When he pulled out to thrust back in, Zalika moaned, looking back at Erik, silently telling him to do that again.

“That thick ass dick,” Zalika’s eyes rolled shut. She was just getting used to Erik’s dick in her ass but M’Baku thrusting upward into her pussy has her feeling full. She turned around to look at him with wide eyes, moans stuck in her throat while this giant of a man started thrusting his hips upward. His dick went in and out, in and out, stretching her pussy to his girth. She could hear her pussy making noises around his dick, she could see the longing in M’Baku’s eyes. 

“Oh my goodness, Baku,” Zalika grabs his shoulders, “Baku it’s so big… ooooo, Erik,” Zalika couldn’t forget the way Erik was tearing her ass up, “Daddy,” She says to Erik, “Daddy,” she says to M’Baku. She was being double penetrated and it felt so damn good. 

“Ass is gripping the fuck out of my dick, FUCK,” Erik rubs his hands up Zalika’s spine, “I love this tight ass.”

Erik slips out of her ass, spreading her cheeks so he could see how wide open she is. The cum on his dick from fucking her pussy helped to lubricate his dick so he could fuck her ass. He went right back inside while watching M’Baku pull her down over his dick. 

“BAKU! ERIK! YES!!” She shouts, “Make me cum!! I want to cum!!”

Zalika never had an anal orgasm before but she could feel herself ready to explode through both openings. She could feel the same tingling each time Erik fucked her ass. M’Baku was all up in her pussy with so much excitement his balls would slap her ass.

“Give me that pussy, girl,” He would say, “Daddy will make you cum on this dick,” He growled, “I’m stretching your little pussy out, baby.” 

“Yes, I’m cumming!!!” 

Zalika was trapped between two men so no matter how powerful her orgasm is she couldn’t move or run away. Tears burst from her eyes and she felt her ass growing tighter around Erik’s dick just like her pussy around M’Baku’s dick. 

“AHHH SHIT!!!!!” Erik says, pumping a few more times before erupting deeply inside of her ass. He came harder than ever from anal and she was begging for more. 

M’Baku hooks his arms under her knees, lifting Zalika up and down his dick. This man was bringing her body up in the air and slamming her down on his dick. 

“Yeah, Baku, give her that dick, fuck her up,” Erik says while stroking his dick. He could feel it growing harder and harder in his hand, “Damn, bro, you got her pussy creaming heavy.”

“Fuck, Baku Ima cum, mmmm, Baku yes!!!!”

Zalika was cumming all over M’Baku and he didn’t stop fucking her until she stopped cumming. When she was drained, M’Baku pulled her into a kiss before lifting her off of him, trading places with Erik while he fucked her ass. Thanks to Erik, Zalika is nice and stretched, giving M’Baku easier access. M’Baku lifts from the bed, grabbing some lube from Erik’s dresser, applying some to his dick before putting it back, kneeling behind Zalika. Erik has Zalika sucking his dick like it was her favorite thing in the whole wide world. 

“BAKU!!!!!” Zalika almost pushes away from him but he holds her hips down firmly while he fits his dick inside of her. He cursed in Xhosa with more and more of himself sinking inside of her. 

“Tight ass butt, give her that dick, bro, make her feel that shit.” Erik encourages M’Baku while Zalika sucks his dick. 

M’Baku was ready to cum already but he held it in as best as he could. Zalika was throwing her ass back on M’Baku and he was meeting her thrust for thrust.

“Yes, girl, that’s daddy’s little slut, this ass is tight on you, fuck,” M’Baku grunts, “Mmmm, yes, get this hole filled all the time, girl.”

“All the time,” Erik moans when Zalika strokes his balls with her hand while sucking on the tip of his dick, “You taste yourself on my dick? Taste good?”

“Mhm,” Zalika says while slurping on Erik’s dick.

“She is well trained,” M’Baku says while digging in her ass, “this is how I told you I would use you, entle, destroy your asshole without mercy...pound you until you cum then pound you again.” 

In between Zalika’s vicious sucks Erik grabs her hair to fuck her face. Already he could feel himself getting ready to explode, “Goddamn, Zalika, Ima bust in that mouth again.”

“I’m about to cum in her ass,” M’Baku slaps her ass, “Mmmm, DAMN!!!!!” He felt that cum shoot out hard, “DAMN!! DAMN!!!”

Erik was right behind him, cumming down Zalika’s throat for the second time that evening. 

________________

How often was Zalika fucking Erik and M’Baku? Practically every damn day. It’s been three weeks and now they were taking turns making a cream pie in her pussy. Zalika swore she was protected with birth control. The risk of letting both of her Daddy’s cum in her pussy felt so dangerous and delicious at the same time. Just last night Erik and M’Baku fucked her in the shower, picking her up and giving it to her deep in both holes. M’Baku was in her ass first while Erik was in her pussy and then they would switch places, aiming to make her cum. 

“Big fucking dicks!” Zalika screamed to the ceiling. 

“Daddy, yes, cum in my pussy,” she would say while Erik was pounding her pussy from the back while sucking M’Baku’s dick. 

“Fuck, M’Baku, it’s so much dick in my pussy,” She would say to M’Baku while riding him reverse cowgirl.

Erik loved fucking Zalika doggy style or with her legs thrown over his shoulders. M’Baku enjoyed making her ride his dick and he especially loved fucking her in the ass. She would suck both of their dicks at the same time no matter what they were doing. They could be on the couch watching a game and Zalika would be on her knees, moving from one dick to the other. You know it’s big when you have to use both hands. She sucked both M’Baku and Erik’s dick with both hands even though Erik preferred for her to use her mouth only. M’Baku didn’t fuss too much because he knew how wide and girthy he was so he let her use whatever resources she needed. 

Zalika had plans to go see M’Baku and Erik but she was feeling funny for the past few days. She felt nauseated and fatigued and that had her taking time off from school to rest up and get some energy. She didn’t want to worry M’Baku and Erik with her problems so she told them that she would have to see them that weekend. They were both disappointed but they understood that she needed some time off. Zalika made herself some chicken noodle soup. She played with it, no appetite at all. The nausea became more and more difficult so Zalika placed her bowl on her dresser, speeding to the bathroom. The second she lifted the toilet seat up Zalika vomits in the toilet. 

She knew it was coming. It was only a matter of time. In that moment it came to her that she missed her period. She was so used to having irregular periods with taking birth control but it always came towards the end of the month. It’s been a week into the new month and she didn’t come on her cycle yet. She did feel bloated, cranky, cramps, and light spotting but it was on and off. Now, she was vomiting. Zalika flushed the toilet, walking to the sink to brush her teeth. As she scrubbed her tongue she looked at her reflection, unable to shake the uneasy feeling in her belly. Zalika knew what she had to do, there was no reason to avoid it. After brushing her teeth and using mouthwash, Zalika walked back to her bedroom to put on some sweats and a pair of sneakers. 

She grabs her keys and wallet, grabbing her keys to leave. There is a CVS about a mile up the road in a shopping center. In her car, Zalika’s conscious kept telling her that she couldn’t be pregnant, not with birth control. The closer she got to CVS, the more she couldn’t accept it. Sure, having M’Baku or Erik as a baby father is wonderful when you think about it but she was still in school, no career, and what if one of them didn’t want the baby? What if they cut ties with her and she was left on her own to take care of a child? If she is pregnant, Zalika will keep the baby, there is doubt about that. But it will be hard. 

Zalika grabs two tests from the shelf, deciding to do self-checkout instead since there was such a long line. Zalika was out the door in under five minutes. On her way back home so she could get it over with and face the inevitable. Back at home, she undressed, standing in her bathroom with her phone on the sink for a timer. She could see two texts from Erik and M’Baku on her lock screen.

Daddy Erik: Awww, I can’t see my baby today, now I gotta take care of myself.

Daddy M’Baku: I hope everything is alright. This dick will miss you girl.

Zalika opens the first test. She pees on the test, sitting it down on the sink before wiping and flushing. While washing her hands, Zalika waits the amount of time needed before grabbing the test quickly, anxious to see what it says. 

Positive

“No fucking way,” Zalika says with a shake of her head before grabbing up the second test, “Let’s be sure….”

______________

“Zalika,” Erik says with a lopsided grin on his face. He’s wearing an Under Armor top with some drawstring shorts and socks on his feet, “I thought you weren’t coming to see us today? What changed your mind, gorgeous?”

“We have to talk,” Zalika says with a solemn expression.

“Aight...come in,” Erik gave Zalika a weird look before closing the door behind her, “Are you cutting ties with me?”

“I need to talk with you and M’Baku, Erik,” she says, “where is he?”

“Kitchen making something to eat, Baku!” Erik calls for him, his eyes never leaving Zalika’s, “Is it bad? You look like you wanna cry.”

“What’s going on,” M’Baku’s deep voice startled her. He softened when he saw Zalika, his little slut, “Ah, so she comes back for more,” M’Baku walks up to her, kissing her lips, “Are you hungry? I’m making oxtail stew, Erik’s recipe.”

“Not right now...we really need to talk...all three of us.”

“Shit,” M’Baku says before sharing a look with Erik, “Well, let’s sit on the balcony.” 

M’Baku leads the way towards the balcony, turning on the light so they wouldn’t be sitting in darkness. There is a long patio chair with two small ones and a few Aloe Vera plants. Zalika takes a seat between Erik and M’Baku, both of them watching her attentively. Zalika began fidgeting, looking down into her lap. 

“Zalika, baby, what’s wrong?” Erik says, scooting closer, “You got me and Baku over here worried.”

“If it's something we did, you can tell us both,” M’Baku says while gently squeezing her shoulder. 

“Okay,” Zalika exhales, “Uhm...I’m pregnant.” 

Silence. 

“I’m pregnant,” she repeated. 

Both men looked at each other again. Erik looked at nothing in particular while M’Baku’s expression hardened. 

“When did you find out?” Erik asks.

“Today...I missed my period and I’ve been feeling sick, weak,” Zalika glances at M’Baku, “I took two tests, they were both positive.”

“Zalika...this is serious...what will you do?” M’Baku grabs for her hand, “I’m with you in whatever decision you make.”

“I want to keep the baby...but I don’t know which one of you could be the father,” She spoke timidly, “You both came inside of me…”

“That’s the dilemma,” M’Baku sighs, “Well, if it is my child, I will take care of it...take care of you.”

Zalika shudders when M’Baku’s hand pressed into her belly. 

“I hope that it is mine,” He spoke with a whisper. That alone made Zalika’s nipples erect. They were a little sore as well but she couldn’t help feeling so turned on by M’Baku’s words.

“It could be mine,” Erik says, “and I’ll make sure my baby is provided for just like her mama,” Erik leans in, kissing Zalika’s cheek. His soft, plump lips against her cheek made her gasp. Erik’s hand joined M’Baku’s on her belly, both men sharing a look, before staring at Zalika. 

“M’Baku...what if it’s Erik’s...how would you feel?”

M’Baku’s jaw clenched. He wanted to believe that it was his seed growing inside of her womb. If Erik’s cum made that happen he would be happy for his best friend but at the same time it could have been his. 

“I would support my friend...but I won’t lie...I want the baby to be mine.” 

“Hmm,” Erik hums, a brow raised at his friend, “You sure you won’t go full gorilla mode on me?” 

M’Baku gave Erik a challenging look. He knows that the Jabari courses through M’Baku’s veins. Very possessive. He practically imprinted on Zalika. 

“Then how would you feel if my baby is what’s making her hips spread and breasts leak milk?” 

Erik licks his lips, one of his eyes twitching faintly. 

“Ah, So we have a challenge,” M’Baku grabs Zalika’s chin, “We will see in nine months.”

“...okay,” Zalika stares at M’Baku’s lips. 

“3 months, right? Until we find out about the sex of the baby?” Erik asks. 

“Yeah, about 14 weeks.” 

“I’ll be right there by your side, baby girl,” Erik kisses her neck, “Right by your side the entire time.

“And I will be by your bedside whenever you need me,” M’Baku says, taking charge and kissing her lips. 

“Come stay with us, Zalika,” Erik takes it up a notch, trailing his hands up to grope her breast, “That way, you’ll be with us the entire time.”

“The lease will be up on my apartment in another few weeks,” Zalika bites her lip when Erik’s thumb tweaks her nipple, “I could do that...are you guys sure?”

“Of course,” M’Baku reassures her, “You are most welcome.” 

Zalika was in heaven. She thought up so many different scenarios of how this would play out. Erik and M’Baku would argue, M’Baku would get upset at her for sleeping with Erik, Erik getting upset with her for sleeping with M’Baku, or both men calling her delusional, telling her to leave. None of those things happened. They were both comforting and accepting of what was happening between the three of them. The only problem would be the competition but that could be dealt with. M’Baku and Erik are now taking turns kissing Zalika, pulling on her clothes. This will be an everyday thing. They will want her pregnant pussy and she will give it to them. 

@tgigoldie @soufcakmistress @chefjessypooh @chaneajoyyy @pananegra @theblulife @becincere @blaqwidow91 @fish-outta-watah @eyeknowmywrites @crowngold @njadakillthiscookie @blktinkerbell @luvanxi @sheisexcellent1 @chocolatedippedinhoney @brandithecrystalgem @dababydababydababydababy @soulfulbeauty19 @btitannaaa @sunkissedebony97 @youngblackndgifted @harleycativy @rbhp @thee-germanpeach @thadelightfulone @palmstreesallday @skylahb @bakaris-shorty @nizzle-mo @truglori @queenflaws @ljstraightnochaser @theegoldenchild @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @nickidub718 @vikkidc @thehomierobbstark  @abluesforlyssa @abeautifulmindexposed @fd-writes @chasingsunlight @sickaddiktions @munteanhore @xo-goldengirl @tiava143 @33kiara@honeytoffee @asiasblackworld727 @momobaby227 @informalmelancholy @soulshinechronicles @hearteyes-for-killmonger @goddessofthundathighs @soulfxll @whazzzupmyhitta @seyven89 @lahuttor @janelledarling @shewritestheblues @fanfangal @kreolemami @thoughtsoftheantagonist @luvwitoutlimit1 @mygirlrenee @hippiesandpeacesigns @alittlejd @jaysaidhi @thewaysheis--awkward– @walkrightuptothesun @shawnstacksss @theesotericqueen @mareethequeen @browngirldominion @ceeverse @therealmrsrhodes @sensitivelegend @teheeboo @yomiloo @msreshel-blog​ @bbygirrll05 @fahi0nanart @afteracouplepuffss​ @shaelyn102​ @yaminax-kuss-a @lackbbaby @amyhennessyhouse​ @thattruckinwitch​ @dameshaemonique​  @glittermakesmesmile​ @justgetitoverwith0​  @notavintagecliche​ @pariahcolored​ @cydneyrenee4​ @ajjiiaaahhhh​ @naeelyniecee @ambthegamer​ @efonteno​ @mikesteel20​ @wisenerdcreator @draggingstxns​ @eevolsidog​ @xoxomyaah​ @asweet-serendipity​@therealmrsmbjordan​ @ajspencer1892​ @queengodiva619 @niqui87​ @quietpoeticheart​ @itsjustyazz​ @dasia21​ @woah-express​ @bbgiirrll​ @backandbetter2​ @megabriahall @forbeautyandlife​ @queenflaws​ @cecereads209​ @queenbetter​ @yomiloo​ @daddys-baby-girl-t​ @lovinthemelanin​ @ladymac82​ @ambitionwood @t3mporaa​ @toniilaney​ @iv0rysoap​ @sinfully-dope​ @lovehatecritique​ @chocolategirl605​ @naysianaee​

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Eccentricity [Chapter 14: Love Keeps The Monsters From Our Door] [Series Finale]

A/N: Thank you for your encouragement, enthusiasm, laughter, rants, screeches of anguish, and unapologetic thirsting for “sexy undead Italian man” Joseph Francis Mazzello. I hope you love this conclusion more than Baby Swan loves pineapple pizza. 💜

Series Summary: Potentially a better love story than Twilight?

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: “Til I Die” by Parsonsfield. (The #1 song I associate with this fic!)

Chapter Warnings: Language.

Word Count: 7.7k.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @bramblesforbreakfast @maggieroseevans @culturefiendtrashqueen @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @escabell @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee @deacyblues @tensecondvacation @brianssixpence @some-major-ishues @haileymorelikestupid @youngpastafanmug @simonedk @rhapsodyrecs​

Mercy

We have to stay in the Vladivostok palace until her transformation is complete, and I hate it.

The floors are cold and sterile and every clang of noise ricochets off them like a bullet. The earth outside is stripped bare and hibernal. There is no green to interrupt the bleakness of the sky, the cruel absence of color: no spruces or hemlocks or bigleaf maples, no evergreen forests, no verdant fields, only a grey that bleeds from the sky in sheets of hail and driving rain. This land is a stranger. So many of the faces, too, are strangers, although they try. Honora sits with me—her large dark eyes, like mirrors of mine, polished and wet with aching pity—and braids my hair. Morana invites me to bake homemade bread with her. Austin tries to make me smile. Cato visits me as much as he can, because he feels responsible; or maybe he would do it anyway, maybe lessening suffering is as instinctual to him as bloodshed is to so many of our kind. And when Cato is with me, I do feel a little better, like my story might belong to somebody else, like it’s a name I can’t quite remember, like it’s a transitory moment of déjà vu I can catch glimpses of but never touch. And yet, still, I send him away.  

I don’t want to be with Cato. It’s painful for him to be around me, I can see that. It’s painful for Rami, and for Ben, and for Joe, and for Lucy and Scarlett. It’s even painful for the Irish Wolfhounds that Cato found locked up for safekeeping in Larkin’s study; they skulk around the palace vigilantly but leave great swaths of uninterrupted space around me like open water. So I conjure up a mask of brave, hopeful acceptance and wear it everywhere I go.

Joe says very little, never leaves the girl he calls Baby Swan’s side, dabs her scorching skin with washcloths soaked in ice water and murmurs in sympathy when she screams through the unconsciousness, from beneath the ocean of fire we all know so well. He nods off sometimes, snatching minutes of sleep like fireflies in a jar, before jolting awake to make sure her heart is still beating. When Ben isn’t checking on them, he’s with Cato, helping to draw up plans for the future, reminiscing about the past with slick eyes and clinking midnight glasses of whiskey. Scarlett sprawls across the desk in what was once Larkin’s study and spends hours on the phone with Archer as she gazes up at the ceiling, telling him how to care for the farm animals and the garden, reassuring him that we’ll be home soon, whispering things to him that I try not to hear; and I know she wouldn’t want me to anyway. Lucy weeps delicate, ceaseless tears as she perches on the staircase landing and Rami entombs her in his arms, never having to ask what she needs from him. And I wander meaninglessly through the echoing, unfamiliar hallways like a moon without a planet.

I know what they all think about me, perhaps even Rami, for I keep it buried as deep as all skeletons should be: that I’m irrevocably kind, effortlessly forgiving. That I’m as incapable of bitterness as I am of aging. But they’re wrong. It’s a choice, and it always has been, ever since a late-November dusk in 1864 when madness eclipsed mercy. Every day I choose whether to surrender to the beckoning, malignant hatred that lurks in the back of my bedroom closet, in the dusty and ill-lit loft of the barn roped with cobwebs, in the twilight tree line of the western hemlocks crawling with shadows that whisper through fanged teeth. Every day I decide whether to become a monster. And it has never been harder to remember why I don’t.

My future is unimaginable. The nights are endless. I feel black, razored seeds of what I am horrified must be bitterness burrowing beneath my skin and taking root there. I am consumed by infected, fruitless questions that I can’t silence: Why Gwilym? Why Arthur? Why Eliza and Charlotte? Why is it always fire?

The first words that Gwilym ever spoke to me, as I unraveled from unconsciousness under a grove of sycamore trees with smoke still clinging to my unscarred skin, rattle around in my skull like windchimes beneath thunderous skies. His voice was colored with an accent I couldn’t place, and yet it sounded like home: You’re in a dark place right now. But you don’t have to stay there.

That might have been true once. That might have been true in the ruinous autumn of 1864. But now I can’t find my way out.

Seventy-three hours after our arrival in this barren corner of the world, Charlie Swan’s daughter  wakes up as a vampire. Her heart is perfectly still, her skin faultless, her senses sharp, her mind as impenetrable as ever; at least, that’s what Lucy says when she finds me. And Lucy tugs at my hand, wearing her first smile in days, insisting that I have to come meet the newest member of our coven, to welcome her. I don’t know how to tell Lucy that I’m afraid I don’t have it in me to love this girl, that I don’t have it in me to love anyone but ghosts. And yet—compliantly, yieldingly, expecting nothing but disappointment in the monster I have become—I follow her.

The door is already open to the Swan girl’s room; chattering, beaming vampires flood in and out like the tides. I step inside. And I see the way that Joe looks at her, the way that Ben does; and all those seeds that I had feared might be bitterness blossom into nothing but open air.

It’s Not A Fucking Wedding (A.K.A. 13.5 Months Later)

The ocean is a universe. Its arms are not ever-expanding, spiraling galaxies of suns and planets and nebulae and black holes, this is true; its belly is not a vacuum of inhospitable oblivion, its bones are not invisible strings of gravity, its language is not a silence older than starlight, older than eternity. But the ocean is a universe nonetheless, its borders tucked neatly around the seven continents, slumbering there until the next hurricane or tsunami or ice age comes conquering; and inevitably equilibrium is restored—like defibrillator paddles to a heart, like naloxone to an addict’s blood—and our two worlds can coexist side by side once again.  

The ocean’s arms are sighing waves, bubbling and brisk, grasping and retreating in the same breath. Its belly is swollen with life from immense blue whales down to swarming clouds of single-celled, sun-hungry phytoplankton. Its language is ancient whispers; not parched and blistering and brittle sounds like the desert’s but cool, serene, supple, engulfing. And I can hear them all, if I listen closely enough. I can hear the sentient whistling of orcas, the breaking of waves against rocks, the scrabbling of sand crabs beneath the earth, the gruff distant barks of sea lions, the rustling of evergreen pine needles in the breeze. And I understand now why it was always so easy for vampires to be introspective, to lapse into thoughtful, unhurried silences. I could imagine spending decades just sitting here with my knees tucked to my chest and my hair whipping in the brackish wind, watching the seasons roll by like a wheel.

Joe was coming back from the gravel parking lot. I turned to watch him: red U Chicago hoodie, messy dark auburn-ish hair, a pizza box clasped in his hands. The GrubHub delivery driver was returning to his car with the toothiest of grins.

“Buon appetito!” Joe announced, dramatically presenting me with the pizza box. It had become our post-finals tradition each semester: pizza at La Push beach, half-pepperoni, half-pineapple.

“Grazie, sexy undead Italian man. Your accent is getting so good!”

“I know, right?! I’m on a twelve-day Duolingo streak. I can’t let that little green owl dude down.”

“I’m impressed, I’ll admit it. I gotta brush up on my Welsh. Why’s the GrubHub driver so cheery?”

“I tipped him $500.”

I smiled, opening the box and lifting out a semi-warm slice of pineapple pizza. Elastic strands of mozzarella cheese stretched like rubber bands until they snapped. “Aww, really?”

Joe plopped down onto the cool, damp sand beside me. “No. I lied. We’re actually having a torrid love affair.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “How could you possibly have time for all that?” Between school, business ventures, family activities, and me, Joe was very rarely unoccupied. And he preferred it that way.

“I’m so glad you asked. I’m very speedy, if you recall. And that’s just one of the exclusive services I offer. I am a man of many talents. I make people’s wildest dreams come true. Who am I to deny the GrubHub delivery man the wonderland that is my spindly, annoying body?”  

“You are the fastest,” I said, winking.

“Oh shut up! I mean, uh, uhhh, silenzio!” He pointed his slice of pepperoni pizza at me reproachfully. “That’s not what I meant. I’m not the fastest at everything.”

“Whatever you say, mob guy.”

He lunged for me, pinned me down in the crumbling sand, both of us laughing wildly as the crusts of our pizza slices bounded off and were snatched up by diving, screeching seagulls. He growled with mock savagery, braced his hips against mine, kissed his way from the corner of my jaw to my lips. That oh-so-familiar commanding, craving ache for him came roaring to the surface; and now there was no bittersweet edge to it, no inescapable backdrop of lambent numbers ticking down from five or ten or fifteen years to zero. Now there was only the calm, unurgent promise of forever.

“Joe—!”

“You have besmirched my honor, Baby Swan. I am left with no recourse but to refresh your clearly flawed memory and prove you wrong.”

“Public indecency? That’s illegal, sir.”

“Okay, you gotta stop stealing my catchphrases. It’s extremely difficult for me to come up with new ones. I’m almost a hundred years old, you know.”

“Alright, I guess you’re not bad in bed for a basically-centenarian.”

He smiled down at me, his dark eyes alight, the wind tearing through his hair, one palm resting on my forehead, uncharacteristically quiet.

“What?” I asked, worried.

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m just really glad we’re a thing.”

“You better be. You’re kind of stuck with me now. You’ve stolen my virtue, you’ve made me fall in love with your entire demented family, you’ve forced your torturous immortality upon me. I’m not going anywhere. Unless you ever stop funding my pineapple pizza addiction, of course.”

Joe chuckled as he climbed off me and took my hand in his, pulling me upright. “It’s absolutely ridiculous, by the way. Your insistence on being a sort-of vegetarian. It’s embarrassing. You’re the wimpiest vampire ever. You’re a disgrace to the coven.”

“I eat animals!” I objected.

“Yeah, when you have to.” And Joe was right: I steered clear of flesh outside of the two or three times a week when I hunted. For environmental sustainability reasons, I mostly consumed deer or rabbits; although the very occasional shark was my guilty pleasure. Joe gnawed on his second slice of pizza and peered out into the overcast, dusky horizon, wiping crumbs from his stubbled chin with the back of his hand. “We only have one more of these left,” he said at last, a little sadly. “One more finals season at Calawah University. One more celebratory dinner at La Push.”

“We’ll just have to get used to a new view. Pizza by the Chicago River, maybe.”

Joe looked over at me, thoughtful again, smiling. He had received his acceptance letter to the University of Chicago three weeks ago. I got mine eight days later. “It won’t be hard for you to leave Forks?”

“It will be. Once upon a time I didn’t think that was possible, but I will miss Forks. And not just because of Charlie and Archer and Jessica and Angela and all the Lees. But it was hard to leave Phoenix, and I’m sure one day it will be hard to leave Chicago. Just because change is hard doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do.”

Joe nodded introspectively. “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”

“Don’t quote classic rock songs at me, mixtapes boy.”

“You love my mixtapes,” he teased, circling his left arm around my waist, pulling me in closer, touching his lips to my forehead. Mint and pine and starlight sank into my lungs like an anchor through the surf. “And that saying actually goes all the way back to Seneca, my dear.”

“Don’t tell me he’s still philosophizing in some cloudy corner of the world somewhere.”

“Not to my knowledge. Although that’s an intriguing thought. We need more famous vampires. Caligula would have made for very interesting conversation. Lincoln, Napoleon, Cleopatra, Shakespeare, Dante...I guess it’s possible that anyone is still around. Maybe we should turn Meat Loaf. You know, for the good of posterity.”

“Is it not enough that they’re already cursed with student debt and global warming?”

Joe cackled, took my face in his palms, kissed each of my cheeks one after the other, then nudged my nose with his. “You ready to go, Baby Swan? I suspect we’re expected to participate in some holiday festivities tonight.”

“I’m ready,” I agreed. We threw our leftover pizza to the seagulls, disposed of the grease-spotted cardboard box, and walked back to my 1999 Honda Accord with our pulseless hands intertwined.

The evergreen trees along Routh 110 fled by beneath a sky freckling with stars. Sharp winter air poured in through the open windows. And I could feel that it was cold, in the same way that I could feel the warmth on Forks’ rare sweltering days; but there was no discomfort that accompanied that knowledge. Pain only came when the sky was unincumbered by thick clouds churning in off the Pacific, and then it felt something like staring into the sun had as a human. Sunglasses helped, but the surest remedy was avoidance, was surrender. And what an inconsequential price to pay for forever.

“Wait,” I said, spying the mailbox that marked the start of the Lees’ driveway. “They still deliver mail on Christmas Eve, right?”

“Uh, I think so, why...?” And then he remembered. “Oh, yeah, let’s check!”

I pulled up beside the mailbox and Joe leaned out, returning to his seat with a mountain of Christmas cards and business correspondence and advertisements from Costco and Sephora. He sifted through them until he found a single white envelope from the University of Chicago Pritzker School of Medicine. It was addressed to a Mr. Benjamin August Hardy. Joe held it up to show me as we drove down the driveway, the Lee house coming into view and ornamented with a frankly excessive amount of multicolored string lights and inflatable reindeer.

“Oh my god!” I squealed, drumming the steering wheel.

“You want to be the one to give it to him?”

“Are you serious?! Yeah, can I?”

Joe passed the envelope to me as I parked my geriatric Honda, which Archer had pledged to keep alive as long as physically possible. In return, Ben let him and Scarlett borrow the Aston Martin Vantage no less than once a week. I dashed out of the car, up the steps of the front porch, and into the house that bubbled over with the sounds of metallic kitchen clashes and frenetic voices and Wham!’s Last Christmas.

“Ben?!” I shouted.

“Hi, honey!” Mercy called from the living room, where she and Lucy were putting the final touches on Scarlett’s gown. Scarlett was playing the part of semi-willing victim, wearing gold heels and an impatient smirk and her hair out of the way in a milkmaid braid; her train of vivid red lace billowed across the hardwood floor. From the couch, Archer and Rami were playing Mario Kart on the big-screen tv and nibbling their way through a tray of homemade gingerbread cookies.

“Oh wow,” I said, clutching the envelope to my chest, mesmerized. I kept waiting for Scarlett to start looking like a normal person to me, and it never happened. Tonight, in the glow of the flameless candles and kaleidoscopic Christmas lights and draped in lace the color of pomegranate seeds, she was Persephone: a goddess of resurrection, a face that death himself could not pass by unscathed. “You’ve outdone yourself, Lucy. Seriously.”

“One day I’m going to get you out of those thrift shop sweaters,” Lucy threatened me, placing a pin in the fabric at Scarlett’s waist.

“Yeah, okay. Let me know when that shows up in one of your visions.”

“Bitch,” Lucy flung back, snickering, knowing how improbable that was. I still appeared in her visions extremely infrequently, and then only when I happened to be standing next to whoever the premonition was actually about.

“Language, dear,” Mercy tutted, inspecting the hem of Scarlett’s gown.

Joe arrived beside me, his arms still full of mail. “ScarJo, I almost didn’t recognize you! Why do you have, like, no cleavage or fishnets or thigh slits?”

“Why do you have like no eyelashes?” Scarlett replied. “See, I can ask unnecessary and invasive questions too.”

Joe frowned, wounded. “What’s wrong with my eyelashes?”

“Lucy, darling, I think it’s just a tad uneven on this side,” Mercy said, showing her. “Maybe by half an inch...?”

“No, seriously, what’s wrong with my eyelashes?!”

Mercy replied distractedly: “Nothing, honey, you’re perfect just the way you are.”

“Mom!” Joe groaned.

“It really is gorgeous,” Mercy marveled as Lucy flitted around her to investigate the hem situation. “And so Christmasy. So perfect for the season. Scarlett, dear, you were right after all, and I’m so sorry for doubting you. I’d just never heard of a red wedding dress before.”

“Mom, it’s not a fucking wedding!” Scarlett exclaimed, for probably the thirtieth time since Thanksgiving. “It’s a nonbinding, informal celebration of an egalitarian romantic partnership. Will somebody please inform this woman that it’s not a wedding?!”

“Yes, yes, of course, whatever you want, sweetheart,” Mercy conceded dreamily.

Joe pointed to Archer. “Isn’t he supposed to not see the dress until the day of or something?”

“What a great question!” Archer replied, still deeply invested in Mario Kart. “You see, that would be the case if this was a wedding. However, I’ve been informed in no uncertain terms that it is most definitely not.”

Scarlett grinned triumphantly at Joe. “There you have it.”

She might snap petulantly, and she might complain, but Scarlett wouldn’t be doing this if she didn’t want to; we were all intimately familiar with the futility of trying to force Scarlett into anything. The not-wedding, as improbable as it seemed, had been her idea from the start. And she wasn’t doing it for herself. She wasn’t even doing it for Archer. Scarlett was doing it for her mother.

The first six months had been hell for Mercy. She didn’t resent me, as I had feared she might; Mercy made that clear, and Rami confirmed it. But she was gutted. She wouldn’t speak of Gwil, wouldn’t listen to us talk about him, locked every photograph of him away in dark drawers, wandered around with a remote, uncanny, unseeing smile until she walked straight into walls; and then she would blink inanely up at them, as if they had dropped out of the sky rather than been built by her own hands. She baked hundreds of cakes and almost never slept. She told us she was fine every time we asked, which was more or less constantly. But on the very rare occasions when she was left alone, Mercy would unfailingly end up in the field behind the Lee house, gazing out into the forest of western hemlock trees with tears snaking silently down her cheeks, the muted light of the cloud-covered setting sun flickering red and furious on her face like wildfire.

And then one afternoon, a package had arrived from Arviat, Canada, where Cato and the rest of the surviving Draghi had relocated shortly after the rebellion at Vladivostok. It was five feet tall and another three wide, and what we found after carefully peeling away all those layers of foam padding and packing tape was a portrait of Gwilym so skillfully painted that it could have been mistaken for a photograph. Mercy had stared at it for a long time—ignoring Lucy’s attempts to guide her away, deaf to any of our concerns—until she at last picked up the portrait herself and said, quite evenly: “I think we should hang it in the living room, don’t you?”

Things had been better since then—very, very gradually, and yet unmistakably—and Gwil’s portrait remained mounted above the living room couch like a watchman, his eyes sparkling and blue, his faint smile stoic and fond and omniscient. But even in the wake of Mercy’s continued improvement, none of us kids were about to risk another agonizingly despondent Christmas. So the solution was obvious. We would keep Mercy preoccupied with what thrilled her more than absolutely anything else: the pseudo-weddings of her children. Rami and Lucy had already secretly volunteered to go next year...and after that, who knew? And there was one other thing that was making Mercy’s burden a little lighter these days.

Charlie sauntered into the living room, wearing an apron covered in cartwheeling Santas and wiping white dust like snow—powdered sugar? flour? baking soda?—from his ungainly hands. He was palpably proud. “The sugar cookies are officially in the oven. And I managed to fit them all on one baking sheet, isn’t that great?! Cuts down on dishes!”

“Why, yes, I suppose it does!” Mercy said, alarm dawning in her eyes. Had my beloved father placed the globs of dough too close together? Would we end up with one hideous, giant monster-cookie? Only time would tell. Providentially, Archer and Joe could be counted on to eat just about anything.

Joe sniffed the air, his forehead crinkling. “What’s burning?”

“Nothing should be burning,” Mercy replied, almost defensive, forever protective of Charlie and all of his profound, incurably human imperfections. Sometimes I thought that she preferred him that way, that he was a link to a simpler world in the same way I had once been, that he was a puddle of memory she could drop into, that maybe he wasn’t so unlike her first husband Arthur. “Not yet, anyway. The cookies need at least ten to twelve minutes at 350.”

“Wait, 350?!” Charlie exclaimed, horrorstruck. “I thought you said 450!”

“Oh, this is tragic,” Scarlett said.  

“I can fix it!” Mercy trilled buoyantly, breezing off to the kitchen as Charlie followed after her with a fountain of apologies. She shushed them away affectionately, patting his chest with her soft plump hands, chuckling about how luckily they had fire extinguishers stowed away in almost every closet just in case. And there were other reasons for that besides Charlie’s perilous baking attempts, but he didn’t know them. Now the record player was belting out Queen’s Thank God It’s Christmas.  

Archer lost another round in Mario Kart and exhaled a great, mournful sigh. “Hey, Baby Swanpire, can you do something about this guy?” He nodded to Rami. “This is criminal. It’s nowhere near a fair fight. He knows every freaking time I’m about to toss a banana peel.”

Rami smirked guiltily up at me from the couch, not bothering to deny it.

“Do you mind?” I asked him.

“Not at all,” Rami replied. “I want to show this loser I can beat him even without the benefit of mega-cool extrasensory superpowers.”

“Rude!” Archer cried.

“So rude,” Scarlett agreed, smiling.

“Okay, here we go.” I sat down beside Rami, still holding Ben’s envelope in my right hand, and laid my left against Rami’s cheek. And I felt a fistful of numbness—like instant peace, like milk-white Novocain—pass from my skin into his, rolling into his skull, deadening whatever telepathic livewires had been ignited there in the August of 1916. The effect would last anywhere from thirty minutes to a few hours; and it worked on every vampire I’d met so far.

“Whoa, trippy,” Rami murmured. “It’s still weird, every single time.” He peered drowsily around the room. “It’s...so...quiet?! You guys really live like this? No one is constantly bombarding you with sexual fantasies or romantic pining or depressive inner monologues? How do you function?! Now I’m alone with my own thoughts, that’s actually worse!”

“Hurry up and beat him while he’s all freaked out and vulnerable,” Scarlett told Archer.

Archer laughed, picking up his Nintendo 64 controller, radiant with the promise of vengeance. “Yes ma’am.”

“Any good mail?” Lucy asked Joe.

“Yeah. Coupons and a ton of Christmas cards from random people. The vet sent us one with alpacas on it, so that’s cute. Oh, and here’s one from our favorite Canadians.”

Joe held up the card so we could all see. The picture on the front showed Cato and Honora sitting on a large velvet, forest green couch with a hulking Christmas tree illuminated in the background. The others were arranged around them: Austin, Max, Ksenia, Charity, Araminta, Akari, Morana, Phelan, Aruna, Adair, Zora, Sahel, and a few new faces I couldn’t name yet. They were all wearing matching turtleneck sweaters. And every single one of them was smiling.

Joe cleared his throat theatrically and read the text on the inside of the card:

“Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

(Oh, and Scarlett, congratulations on your not-marriage.)

- Cato Douglass Freeman”

“That bastard,” Scarlett muttered.

Rami offered me his controller. He had just slipped on a banana peel and rocketed off a cliff. “You want a turn?”

“No, thanks though. I have to talk to Ben. Is he around?”

Rami shrugged ruefully. “I would help, but my brain is temporarily broken.”

Scarlett rolled her eyes, taking a gingerbread cookie from the tray and biting into it as Lucy batted crumbs from the red lace dress, exasperated. “I think he’s out in the hot tub.”

“Cool. I shall return.”

Joe took my spot on the couch as I departed, shoveling cookies into his mouth, seizing Rami’s controller and kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

I opened the door to the back porch, and frigid December air rushed in like an uninvited guest. The field was coated with a thin layer of snow, the animals safe and warm in the barn, the garden slumbering. And in the spring and summer, when blossoms of a dozen different varieties came open beneath the drizzling grey skies, Mercy’s calla lilies didn’t bother my allergies at all. Nothing did anymore. Ben was indeed in the hot tub, puffing on his vape pen, wearing only a beanie hat and swim trunks.

“What flavor is that cartridge?” I asked as I approached. “Gummy bear?”

“Close. Strawberry doughnut.”

“Ohhhh, yum!” Ben passed me the vape pen, and I took a drag as I kicked off my boots and sat near him on the rim of the hot tub, slipping my bare feet beneath the steaming, roiling water. Then I handed his vape pen back. “So. Guess what I have for you.”

“Uh.” He glanced at the envelope. “Jury duty.”

“Better.”

“Someone I hate has jury duty.”

I flipped the envelope around so he could see the University of Chicago logo on the front.

“Oh god,” Ben moaned.

“Don’t you want to see what it says?”

“Not really,” he admitted, grimacing.

“Come on, Ben. Open it.”

“Nah.”

“Why not?!”

Ben sighed. “Look, if I open it and it’s bad news, it’s gonna make Christmas weird. Rami will know. They’ll all know. They’ll all feel bad for me and it’ll be pathetic and depressing and awkward. You can look if you want to, just don’t tell anyone else yet.”

“It’s not going to be bad news,” I said, tugging at the floppy top of his beanie hat. He swatted my hand away, but he was smiling grudgingly.

“You have positively no way of knowing that. Unless Lucy’s had a vision I’m unaware of.”

“She hasn’t. You know she never sees anything important.”

“She saw you coming,” Ben countered.

“She saw human-me and Joe in love and gobbling down pretzels at a Cubs game. So I’d say there were at least a few minor details missing.”

“There’s no way I got in,” Ben said, his green eyes slick and fearful and now fixed on the envelope. “We can’t all be geniuses like you.”

“That’s an unfair accusation. I’m far from genius. I’m just obsessed with the ocean.” I’d written my senior thesis on the feeding habits of Pacific angelsharks, and my advisor was still trying to figure out how I, an amateur scuba diver at best, had managed to get so many quality photographs with my underwater camera. The secret, of course, was superhuman agility and not needing to breathe.

“I fucking hate calculus. The MCAT wrecked me. I got a 517.”

“And their median score is a 519, so I’d say you still have a fighting chance. Plus you have like eight million volunteer hours.” Ben had spent the vast majority of the past year either in class or at the hospital. The psychiatrist-in-chief, Dr. Siegel, had been more than happy to take one of Gwil’s foster children under her wing. Every human in Forks except Archer believed that Dr. Gwilym Lee had drowned in a tragic boating accident while he and Mercy were on vacation in Southern California, and that his body had never been recovered. The town had held a wonderful remembrance ceremony and dedicated a free clinic at the hospital in his honor. “Now open it.”

“You do it,” Ben relented finally. “My hands are wet. Go ahead, open it up and tell me what it says. And then kindly euthanize me to end my immortal shame.”

“That wouldn’t work,” I pointed out, tearing open the envelope. I pulled out the tri-folded piece of paper inside, flattened it against my thighs, and read the typed black text.

“...Well?” Ben pressed, vaping frantically.

I looked up and smiled at him.

“No way,” he whispered.

“I hope you like pretzels and bear-themed baseball teams, grandpa.”

And for a second, I thought he might bolt up out of the hot tub, hooting victoriously, splashing water all over the back porch as he danced around bellowing that he’d gotten into one of the best medical schools in the world, that he would be following me and Joe to Chicago. But that wasn’t Ben. Instead, a slow smile rippled across his face: it was small, but perfectly genuine. Pure, even.

“Goddamn,” he said, watching me. Venom doesn’t just resurrect or ruin; it forms a bond that is simultaneously intangible and yet immense. It’s an evolutionary adaptation, a way to facilitate stability and the building of covens in an often violent and ruleless world. And now that he had turned me, Ben had family here in Forks in more ways than one.

“Gwil would be so proud of you, Ben.”

“I hope so. I really do.”

The back door of the house opened, and Joe stepped outside. He studied Ben for a moment, and that was all it took for him to know. “Benny!” he shouted, elated.

“I know, I know. Fortunately, I look amazing in red. Thanks, supermodel genes.”

“This is going to be so fun!” Joe said, sprinting over to wrap Ben—who was characteristically lukewarm on this whole physical displays of affection business—in a hug from just outside the hot tub. “We’re going to go furniture shopping, and eat deep-dish pizza, and find apartments right next to each other, and mail home Chicago-themed care packages, and get you hooked up with some gorgeous Italian woman...or whatever you like, I guess I shouldn’t assume. Women. Men. Gang members. Marine mammals. Jessicas. Whatever. There are options.”

Ben laughed as he playfully shoved Joe away. “Sounds like a plan, pagliaccio.”

“Oh my god, stop learning Italian without me! You realize you have to tell Mom now.”

“I will,” Ben agreed, with some trepidation. “I’ll wait until after Christmas.”

“It’ll be hard for her,” I said. “But she knows it’s what you want. She knows it’s what’s best for you. So she’ll get through it. I think it would be worse for her if you didn’t get in, if she had to see you unhappy.”

Ben nodded, exhaling strawberry-doughnut-flavored vapor, gazing up at the stars, Orion and Auriga and Lynx and Perseus reflected in his thoughtful jade eyes. “She’ll still have Rami and Lucy and Scarlett here with her. And Archer. And Charlie.”

“Especially Charlie,” Joe said, grinning.

Mercy would have to leave Forks eventually, of course. The Lees had already been here for nearly four years; they could stay another ten, perhaps fifteen at the absolute maximum. And there had been a time when ten or fifteen years seemed like quite a while to me, but now it felt like I could doze off one afternoon and wake up on the other side of it, like swimming a lap in the sun-drenched public pool back in Phoenix. We would find a new home somewhere after Joe and I finished our PhDs, after Ben finished medical school, maybe Vancouver or Buffalo or Amsterdam or Edinburgh or Dublin or Reykjavik. Wherever we went, I hoped it wouldn’t be far from the sea. But Mercy couldn’t bear to leave Forks yet. It was the last home she had shared with Gwil, the last house they would ever build together, and leaving it would make his loss all the more irrevocable. She would be ready to leave someday, but not today.

In the meantime, there would still be visits for breaks and holidays. Scarlett and Archer had the shop to keep them busy, a brand new eight-car garage that held a virtual monopoly on both the Forks and Quileute communities. Lucy had opened a bohemian-style clothing boutique downtown, which confounded most of the locals but attracted more adventurous customers from as far away as Seattle. Rami was interning for a local immigration lawyer and entertaining the possibility of applying to U Chicago’s law school in another few years. And Mercy had the farm; and she had Charlie. He had asked her for cooking lessons to try to help rouse her a few months after Gwil’s death, and it had grown from there. If it wasn’t romantic just yet, I believed it would be soon. And there were moments when I thought my father might have figured something out, when his eyes narrowed and lingered on me just a little too long, when his brow knitted into suspicious, searching lines, when the hairs rose on the back of his neck and some innate insight whispered that we weren’t like him and never could be again. But then he would chuckle, shake his head, and say: “You’ve gotten weird, my gorgeous, brilliant progeny. But Forks looks pretty good on you.”

“Can I talk to you upstairs?” Joe asked me suddenly; and did I see restless nerves flicker in his dark eyes? I thought I did.

“Sure,” I replied, climbing down from the hot tub. “Ben, are you coming inside? My dad is trying to bake Christmas cookies and failing miserably. It’s pretty hilarious. Not that you should be the one to critique other people’s kitchen-related accidents.”

“I do enjoy your company a lot more now that I don’t want to murder you and slurp you down like a Chick-fil-A milkshake,” Ben said. “Yeah, give me a few minutes and I’ll be there.” And as Joe and I headed into the house, I saw Ben pick up the acceptance letter that I’d left on the rim of the hot tub and read it for himself with incredulous eyes, grappling with the irrefutable fact that it was his name on the opening line, that he had somewhere along the way become the sort of man who dedicated his immortality to saving lives rather than ending them.

In the living room, Scarlett was back in her yoga pants and absolutely brutalizing Archer in Mario Kart. Rami and Lucy were entwined together on the loveseat, murmuring, giggling, feeding each other pieces of gingerbread cookies. In the kitchen, Charlie was leading Mercy in a clumsy waltz to Meat Loaf’s I’d Do Anything For Love, and each time he fumbled his steps or mortifyingly trod on her feet she would cry out in a peal of laughter brighter than the sun she had learned to live without. Joe spirited me up the staircase, into his bedroom—which, honestly, was more like our bedroom now, in the same way that my room in Charlie’s house had become Joe’s as well—and closed the door.

“You’re in luck,” he said. “Your dad totally ruined our song. Now I can’t hear it without thinking about some moustached guy in plaid trying to seduce my mom.”

“It’s the best Christmas gift I could ever ask for. Meat Loaf is vanquished. Oh, just so you’re aware, Renee and Paul are getting an Airbnb and coming up for New Years.”

“Cool. Do they still think I have a super embarrassing sunlight allergy and will break into hives and asphyxiate and that’s why we can’t visit them in Florida?”

“Yup.”

“Spectacular. Also, can you please tell me what’s wrong with my eyelashes?”

“They’re just a little sparse, amore. But I still like you.”

“Well, I am only moderately attractive, you know.” Then Joe steeled himself, taking a deep breath. Uh oh. He was definitely nervous. I still couldn’t believe I had the power to make him that way, but here we were. “So I get that we’re doing presents with the whole family tomorrow morning, and you do have some under the tree, so don’t worry about that. But there’s one I wanted to give to you alone. You know. With just us. Without an audience. Or whatever.”

“...Okay...?” A secret gift? A naughty gift? “I hope it’s a new vibrator.”

“Shut up,” Joe begged, laughing. “Here.” He reached into the drawer of his nightstand—our nightstand—and produced a small blue box topped with a turquoise bow. It wasn’t a ring, I was sure of that; I didn’t feel especially attached to the idea of marriage, and neither did Joe to my knowledge. How could rings or papers seal commitment when you already had eternity? I was right: the mysterious present was not a ring. When I removed the lid and emptied the box into my palm, what appeared there was a small plastic airplane.

“What is this?” I asked, amused but puzzled.

“Are you not college educated? It’s a plane.”

“Well, yeah, I can see that. But it’s also like two inches long.” I scrutinized the plane. “Are you magically transforming me into a tiny, tiny, little plastic person? Is that my gift? Because I actually got you something good.” And I really did: there was a collection of vintage Chicago Cubs photographs from the 1910s and 20s downstairs under the Christmas tree, packaged in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer wrapping paper.

“We’re going on a trip,” Joe said, grinning. “The day after Christmas. It’s just a short trip, nothing huge, don’t get too excited, we’re not going to Mt. Everest or Antarctica or anything. I think you’ll still like it. But I don’t want you to know where we’re going until we’re there.”

“How will that work? Considering the tickets and signage and pilot announcements and obnoxiously noisy other passengers and all.”

“ScarJo’s going to fly us.”

“Really?!” We were taking the jet. We almost never used the jet. “What’s in it for Scarlett?”

“She found out that Archer’s never had In-N-Out Burger before and is very much looking forward to initiating him into the cult of deliciousness.”

“Oh nice. I could go for a vanilla milkshake myself, now that Ben mentioned them.”  

“Obviously I’m gonna buy you all the milkshakes and animal-style fries you want. Bankrupt me, bitch. But we have to get one other thing taken care of first.”

“So it’s somewhere they have In-N-Out Burger...” I pondered aloud. California? Texas? Las Vegas? I felt a brief but unambiguous pang of homesickness for Phoenix. But there was nothing there for me anymore.

“Stop,” Joe pleaded. “I’m sorry. I’ve already said too much. Please forget that. Get a traumatic brain injury or oxygen deprivation or something.”

“I hate to disappoint you, but I’m rather indestructible at the moment.”

He smiled wistfully. “I wouldn’t want you to be any other way.”

There was laughter downstairs in the living room. I could detect the aroma of a fresh batch of sugar cookies baking in the kitchen, mingling with the cold night air and pine trees and peppermint candy canes. I loved Christmas. The entire world smelled like Joe. The U Chicago décor, classic rock posters, and Italian flag were now interspersed with National Geographic pages and photos of the two of us together. The Official Whatever You Want Pass hung in a small, square picture frame on the wall above Joe’s bed. Our bed.

“How real is it, Joe?” I asked quietly. I climbed onto my tiptoes, linking my hands around the back of his neck with the tiny plane still tucked between my fingers. “Seriously. The wishes thing.”

“The world may never know. Akari never met me as a human, so she wouldn’t be able to say. But if I had to place a bet...” He shrugged, grinning craftily. “Kinda real. Kinda not real. Just like vampires, I guess.”

“I am alarmingly glad that you’re real, mob guy,” I said, abruptly somber. “I never thought I’d meet someone who saw me as remarkable, who could make me see myself that way. And it’s miraculous. And it’s terrifying too, honestly. Being a thing with you. Falling for someone you could have for centuries and lose in a second.”

“It’s the scariest thing there is,” Joe concurred, taking my hand to lead me back downstairs.

Joseph

Scarlett looks like a goddess, and she knows it. But she’s not one of those magnanimous, fragile, harp-plucking, pastel-colored goddesses. She’s ferocity and wildness and crimson like blood, and that’s exactly why Archer loves her. And as they stand in front of the Christmas tree with their hands clasped together—ivory on bronze, snow on sun—with matching sprigs of holly in Scarlett’s hair and pinned to the jacket of Archer’s suit, reciting truths but no promises, I can’t help but watch the other faces in the room: Rami, Lucy, Ben, Charlie, Mom with her beaming smile and shining eyes, the woman I met sixteen months ago and now can’t fathom life without. And it occurs to me for the first time that love, in its cleanest form, isn’t something that changes people as much as it allows them to become who they truly are.

On the evening of December 26th, as soon as the sun dips beneath the western horizon, we board the jet in the Forks Airport hangar. It’s much easier for Scarlett to fly at night; otherwise she has to wear two or three pairs of sunglasses on top of each other, and even then it’s still painful, it still feels like blinding needles burrowing into the jelly of her retinas. That’s not a wrench in my plans or anything. It needs to be night where we’re going, too.

Vampire hyper-acuity notwithstanding, FAA regulations require Scarlett to have a copilot, so Archer joins her in the flight deck with his newly-minted license and spends most of the journey flipping through the latest issue of Motor Trend. As we begin our descent, he peeks back at us and teases: “It’ll be your turn eventually, guys. Scarlett and I did our time. Rami and Lucy can go next year. And after that...unless Ben happens to find someone worthy of a not-wedding...” He wiggles his black eyebrows.

“Bring it on,” I reply casually. “Fake wedding are my jam. It’ll be ocean themed. Or Roaring ‘20s themed. And we’ll all do the Cha-Cha Slide in the living room and shame Ben as a bonding activity.”

“Mercy can set up a mashed potatoes bar,” Baby Swan adds.

“Yeah. With pineapple.”

“No. Not on potatoes.”

“Yes on potatoes.”

“Over my dead body.”

“Too late,” I tell her, touching my lips to the knuckles of her cool, steady hand.

We touch down at a small noncommercial airport just outside the city, and Scarlett and Archer stay back to secure the plane as Baby Swan follows me outside. And she realizes where we are as soon as the wind hits her, as soon as her eyes soak up the sand and cacti and cloudless night sky like rain swallowed up by parched earth.

“Phoenix,” she whispers, smiling like a child.

“But wait, there’s more!” I announce in my best Billy Mays voice. I take the little glass bottle from my pocket, walk across the runway to the naked desert, crouch down when I find a suitable spot, and fill the bottle with dry, sandy earth that crumbles in my palms. Then I seal the bottle with a tiny cork and bring it back to give it to her.

“I know what it’s like to have to leave home,” I say. “You’ve had to say goodbye to Phoenix, and soon you’ll have to say goodbye to Forks, and next will be Chicago, on and on forever. You’ll always be leaving the places you learn to call home. Every five or ten or fifteen years, we start over again. Like a snake shedding its skin, like a hermit crab swapping shells. Like the water that travels from rain to seawater to mist and then back again. But now you can always have a little piece of home with you, and maybe that will make it easier.”

She takes the glass bottle and shakes her head in disbelief, in wonder. Because this is exactly what she wanted, what she needed, even if she didn’t know it yet. “Joe...how did you...?”

“What’d I tell ya? I’m a talented guy. Now you have to dance with me.”

She laughs. “Oh no. Hard pass. I don’t dance.”

“When we’re alone in my bedroom you do. So just pretend we’re alone now. In, like, a really really spacious, sandy bedroom. With probably some lizards.”

“Fine. But only because I’m willing to degrade myself for milkshakes.”

She slides the glass bottle of Arizona earth into her pocket and takes my hands. She’s still a pretty terrible dancer, honestly. She hasn’t lost that. And I love that about her. I love damn near everything about her. And it took me a long time to figure out what exactly her subtle yet peerless cocktail of fragrance is, because it wasn’t somewhere I’d ever been. The scent that drifts from her pores—the scent that now lives in my bedsheets like a shadow or a ghost—is sunlight and heat and clarity and resilience and wisdom older than the pyramids. Her scent is the desert.

Now she’s mischievous, her eyes gleaming with the reflections of the Milky Way and the full moon and the stars that are dead and yet eternal, just like us. “So what, you think you’re Vampire Boyfriend Of The Year material now or what? Some dirt and In-N-Out Burger? That’s the height of your game? Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my perpetual existence? I totally should have pursued that polyamorous triad with Scarlett and Archer when I had the chance—”

“Yeah,” I say, very softly, smiling, tilting up her chin to kiss her beneath the universe and all its eccentricities. “I love you too.”

[alarriefantasy]

Hi, all! So it seems that the wonderful AO3 user - objectlesson - aka on tumblr as - horsegirlharry - has sadly deleted their fics. I have only a few saved in my files, but there are some I would really love to possess, if anyone has them? I would really appreciate it if you would message me and let me know! :)

Also, I am posting the whole list of amazing stories they shared for our fandom, and I am marking (with an asterisk*) the ones that I have myself, in case anyone else would like them too! <3

Silver White Winters

by objectlesson

In which Louis catches a cloud and pins it down.

Words: 5106, Chapters: 2/2, Language: English

I Must Confess (I Still Believe)

by objectlesson

Louis shrugs, eyes on the road. “You look cute in the blazer, too,” she says nonchalantly, and what the fucking fuck, what is Harry supposed to think?

“You probably do, too, but I wouldn’t know because I don’t even think you own one? Do you ever actually wear the entire uniform?” she asks, deflecting.

“Not since freshman year!” Louis boasts proudly. “They stopped giving me demerits because it’s, like, a lost cause. I literally haven’t seen my blazer in three years, I just borrow Veronica’s when I walk into Mass.” Her grin is very cheeky and bright, and she’s squinting in the sun, aviators pushed up into the overgrown auburn shag of her hair. The horizon is hazy and pink-orange as dark sneaks up on them, the air smelling of sprinkler water and BBQ smoke from people leaching the last warmth of October before summer’s gone for good. Harry feels alive with possibility, eyes watering as she smiles at Louis, unable to stop. She wrinkles her nose like it’ll somehow hide the way it looks on her face to be in love.

Or, Harry is the new girl at an all girl Catholic Girl’s School, and Louis is the unattainable, dashing senior who changes her forever.

Words: 44304, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Powerless (and I Don’t Care It’s Obvious)

by objectlesson

“Oh no, Lou, don’t make me laugh,” he whimpers. His Ribena-purple mouth twists into a glorious, breakable shape, and Louis’s heart stops. He should not be getting turned on by Harry’s full-bladder discomfort, his little twitches, his hips-stuttering. And yet.

Words: 4090, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

The Pink Ghost of Princess Park

by objectlesson

The thought of the vibrator does not go away. It’s sitting there collecting dust all through January, and every time Harry and Louis have to leave town for a press event or a show or to record or what have you, they come back home, and it’s still there, the Pink Ghost of Princess Park, the fucking glittery haunting that Harry cannot stop thinking of Louis stuffing up his arse.

Words: 7556, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

*Life Saver

by objectlesson

Nerd Boy’s giant, dorky, adorable hand shoots into the air. Louis notices he has chipped red polish on a few of his nails and some tattered friendship-looking bracelets, like the sort you make in camp, and he might hear the distant chime of wedding bells. He thought he didn’t even believe in marriage because it’s, like, oppressive and heteronormative or whatever, but that was before Styles, Harry (Harry Styles!!! What an absurd, wonderful name! What a perfect thing to scrawl in the margins of all his notebooks surrounded in hearts!) appeared in the bio lab at his new school and ruined all his principles forever.

or, Louis is a sweetheart punk with a theater background and a heart of gold, Harry is an inexperienced nerd who plays by the rules. Classmates, lab partners, and eventually friends, what happens when Louis knows he’s in love, but doesn’t know how tell Harry?

Words: 14809, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Even Your Honey Dew

by objectlesson

It probably says something about Harry that he’s so obsessed with another omega’s arse.

Words: 9512, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

What a Heavenly Way To Die

by objectlesson

She’s thought about it a lot, and two big things seem to be holding her back, aside from the uncontrollable paralysis that overtakes her body every time she so much as tries to sneak a hand under the waistband of Harry’s knickers.

Or, Louis is afraid to do stuff to Harry, who has done a lot of stuff to her.

Words: 8052, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

A Firm Believer and a Warm Receiver

by objectlesson

a few months ago, Louis had his first heat. It was no big deal, aside from it being awkward and weird and all the other things it was supposed to be. He figured he would present as an omega, so he wasn’t exactly surprised or anything.

But then, last week, Harry had his first heat, too.

Or, the omega/omega sleepover fic no one asked for but y'all really, really need.

Words: 10895, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

You’ll Know What Makes The World Turn

by objectlesson

Sometimes, when things are messy and they have more than a few weeks apart, they need the reminder. It’s comforting to have stars to map your course by.

or, Harry’s blue bandana is a day collar.

Words: 4624, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Sing You Butterflies

by objectlesson

Louis stares for a moment before some primal sympathetic force in him activates. He has to help this boy. He can hardly walk, and he seems so young (yet ageless, beyond age, like a sea turtle or a parrot or a tree or something else odd and magical), and on top of all that, he has body glitter clinging to his skin, like that roll-on stuff his sisters used to use as preteens, only pink-gold and twice as thick. It’s, like, professional grade. He’s also wearing grass- and dirt-stained pink silk women’s underwear, so maybe he’s from London. Maybe he’s a drag queen who crawled all the way from a nightclub in Soho just to save Louis from his horribly mundane and woefully heterosexual neighbours out here in the middle of nowhere.

or, Harry’s a clumsy unicorn who accidentally stomps on a witch’s garden and is turned into a human as punishment, so he wanders into a nearby village covered in glitter, still figuring out how to walk on two feet, and meets the fairy-tale-fine Louis, who has to teach him how to live as a human and stop him from eating soap.

Words: 22701, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Holy

by objectlesson

She deserves not to be so goddamned put together all the time. Being in the world’s biggest and highest exposure girlband means she’s never seen without a flat stomach, a spray tan, contouring, eyelash extensions, the whole of her body inescapably toned and plucked and waxed so frequently she genuinely forgot what fucking color her own pubes are. Louis wants to eat burgers and smoke weed and be twenty three. She wants to wake up with Harry and spend the whole day in bed fingering each other because they finally don’t have to have goddamn acrylic nails for once. She wants to grow her pubes out. She wants to lounge around in a posh, red-velvet High Hefner robe.

Or, Louis is dressed like a fucking queen, Harry’s begging please.

Words: 6608, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Only One I Dream Of: A Drabble Collection

by objectlesson

A collection of all the m/m One Direction drabbles and timestamps I’ve written on tumblr, so my readers on here aren’t missing out!

Words: 5164, Chapters: 5/13, Language: English

Diamonds in the Moonlight

by objectlesson

The 70s au where Harry is a rich girl stuck in the suburbs who thinks she loves Shaun Cassidy, and Louis is the skater who breaks into her backyard and changes everything forever.

Words: 16136, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

In the Heat of the Night

by objectlesson

“You’re sleeping with me, obviously,” Harry says then, pausing to regard Louis with a funny expression, nose wrinkled and brows drawn tight. “Don’t tell me you thought that I’d let you freeze out here!? Absolutely not! C’mon, the bedroom’s cozy, I dragged a space heater out.”

Louis wants to protest about as badly as she wants to sleep next to Harry Styles, which is a lot. Too much.

Or, Louis is the only butch in London with a truck and Harry needs to move a couch.

Words: 7726, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Once Upon a Dream

by objectlesson

“M’not gonna half-ass our fake relationship,” Louis almost snaps, voice sharp with a defensive edge, like Harry wandered too close to a bruise with needy fingers. “Now kiss me again. We’re gonna make every shitty tourist here wish they had stayed in the Midwest. We’re gonna burn Disneyland down with our gay. ”

Harry shuts his eyes and opens his mouth, because he can’t fucking say no to Louis.

Or, a fake dating AU where everyone is lying and they happen to be at the Happiest Place on Earth.

Words: 16643, Chapters: ½, Language: English

From Now Until Forever

by objectlesson

The girls go to Britney Nite and Louis wears Juicy track pants and Harry is not ok.

Niall takes the pint glass back from Harry and takes a swig, regarding her over the rim knowingly. “You’re nervous,” she observes with a grin. “Because you’re gonna get drunk at a gay bar with Louis, and you haven’t told her yet that you wanna marry her.”

“Oh, my god, stop,” Harry scolds, hiding her face in her hands, everything suddenly hot and shivery. “It’s not that,” she adds, even though it most definitely is.

“Then…you’re excited to see Louis in a schoolgirl skirt and bra? Covered in that body glitter that smells like cotton candy?” Niall presses, waggling her eyebrows, making Harry blush at the mere thought of Louis’s golden skin shimmering and sticky under club lights.

Words: 9223, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Hello, Heaven (you are tunnel-lined with yellow lights

by objectlesson

“Oh, yeah?” Harry asks, playing dumb as he helps Louis out of his coat before hanging it up. “A new phone charger? Mine’s still broken, the electrical tape didn’t work.”

Louis makes a face at him, all arched brows and tongue pressed into cheek. “Oh a phone charger? Is that what you need?” he quips lightly, voice high and lilting in this sing-song way that’s so, so high and gentle that it’s scary. He’s putting on a show for Harry, and Harry’s thrilled with it, already shivery and hot-cheeked because Louis got him something naughty, and they’re talking about it without really talking about it, wrapping it up in layers of mundanity and domesticity, still so excited to play the role of two Adults living in their new Adult flat in London that they bought with their own money from the X Factor. Harry’s living an unimaginably glamourous life so suddenly, and Louis and his gifts are right in the middle of it, the heart of his every dream.

Or, Louis buys Harry things sometimes.

Words: 2988, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Dream About That Casual Touch

by objectlesson

And that was the first thing Louis noticed about her. Not her nipples, or not only her nipples, anyway, but the fact that she was so confident with her body and didn’t seem to care that her tits were sort of soft and floppy and uneven or that she had a little roll of pudge around her hips that poked over the top of her jeans when she wore crop tops. She wore what she wanted to wear whether or not it was in fashion or technically even flattering; her hair was always messy, she only wore makeup half the time, and she seemed to like heeled boots even if she was already fairly tall and they made her tower over the boys. Louis always thought it was so fucking sexy how unconcerned Harry seemed with what people thought of her, how comfortable she was in her own skin. That by itself seemed like a sort-of gay thing, so Louis kept a remote, careful eye on her, hoping to one day see something else that blipped her radar.

Or, Louis and Harry fuck up two dates before they finally get it right.

Words: 7678, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

*Smoke Dreams from Smoke Rings

by objectlesson

“When I get a craving?” Louis says, “You have to help me chase it away. Distract me”

Oh. Harry can think of about one hundred different ways to distract Louis Tomlinson. One hundred better uses for his mouth, for example. “Erm,” he squeaks, well aware of the fact that he’s grinning and dimpling and blushing all at once, his whole face a suddenly mortifying warzone of transparent emotion. “How?”

“By hitting my arm as hard as you can,” Louis announces, holding out the arm in question. It bridges the gap between them, stiff and expectant, and Harry stares, not entirely sure if Louis’s being serious, if this is some prank that he isn’t clever enough to understand, or if the promise of touching Louis under any circumstances is so titillating that he just can’t process it. Louis rolls up the sleeve of his hoodie then, revealing his pale inner arm in maddening increments, pushing Harry somewhere between drooling and vomiting, he isn’t sure which. He just knows that his mouth is flooded, and the barely-there ghost of Louis’s veins through his skin is the prettiest thing that he’s ever seen. “Go on, hit me,” Louis orders. “Don’t be shy,”

or, Louis enlists Harry to help him with his bad habit.

Words: 18116, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Black Stars and Endless Seas

by objectlesson

Or, A Star Trek Original Series AU where Lt. Styles is a young science officer on his first away mission, and Louis is the headstrong ensign assigned to his security detail, and maybe they would be able to function together professionally in a normal setting, but not when their shuttlecraft crash-lands and they end up marooned together on an improbably and unfairly beautiful planet.

Words: 32246, Chapters: 3/3, Language: English

Rose Garden Dreams

by objectlesson

Harry thinks it’s a fever-induced delirium, at first. After all, she’s been sick in bed for a full forty-eight hours following the Best and Most Important beach trip of her entire life because fate is a cruel and jealous bitch who doesn’t want Harry to go on a date with the girl of her dreams.

or, Harry is sick and Louis comes to visit her.

Words: 9464, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Palms Reflecting in Your Eyes

by objectlesson

Harry visits Louis at his campus and finds a crop on the wall.

Words: 6496, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Wrap You Up in Daisy Chains

by objectlesson

Ten minutes later, an awkward, long-legged, curly-haired, so pale she’s reflective, and so obviously gay-looking Harry Styles is sitting shotgun next to Louis in a bikini, denim cut-offs, and heart-framed sunnies.

Or, Harry and Louis and a too-small bathing suit.

Words: 10613, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

To Keep the Night From Ending

by objectlesson

It doesn’t always feel real to kiss in the dark, Harry guesses. He wants it to feel real. He wants it to be the realest thing, burnt indelibly into his skin.

Or, Harry and Louis take a night swim.

Words: 5036, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Good Enough to Eat

by objectlesson

“Fuck,” Harry mumbles, shuffling. “You won’t give me shit for it? It’s sorta weird.”

“No,” Louis breathes. “Promise.”

“Okay. I just…fuck, I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” Harry whimpers, and he must be blushing because Louis can feel waves of heat coming off him, his embarrassment a hot, palpable thing. “So, like…I love rimming videos. Nothing makes me come harder,” he admits, covering his face with his hands so his voice comes out muffled and strangled.

It takes Louis a few seconds to process, to mentally rifle through his Pornhub search history and remember what rimming even is; Harry has him so stupid he can’t keep stuff straight. His ears ring, and then it hits him, and, oh, fuck. His stomach turns and tightens so quickly he’s gasping, an audible and shameful scrape of air in the dark. “You…really?” he chokes out.

Or, Harry is convinced he’s never gonna be able to try his favorite porn fantasy on a real boy, and Louis offers to remedy this.

Words: 6722, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Grenadine Sunshine

by objectlesson

Harry’s only sixteen, it shows right now, and Louis wants…he wants so many things. He wants to taste the faint, sugary ghost of lip gloss, he wants to cup Harry’s face between his palms and swipe the shimmery wet shadows from beneath his eyes. He wants to show him everything he knows, even though he doesn’t know anything about this, about kissing boys or flirting with them or doing their makeup or even showing them it’s okay to want to wear makeup in the first place. Still, Louis just wants, wants and wants and wants. It’s what Harry does to him.

Words: 18067, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Only Angel

by objectlesson

Louis pops his hip out, looking down at Harry from beneath the cut of his fringe sassily. “How do I look?”

Harry…Harry doesn’t have words, not really. He sits there on the floor with a half-hard cock, gazing up at this taller, scarier version of Louis with wide eyes. “Like I want you to spin-kick me in the face,” he admits after a moment, shakily inhaling. “You look…really good.”

Or, Louis finds a pair of heels that fit, and Harry wants to be ruined, as per usual.

Words: 6599, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Someone Who Knows How To Ride

by objectlesson

Harry gives Louis a lap dance. Or, at least, he tries to.

Words: 5114, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Copper Kiss

by objectlesson

Harry’s not allowed to fly back to the UK without marks to remember Louis by.

Words: 4604, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

You Drive Me Crazy ( I Just Can’t Sleep)

by objectlesson

The first time Louis ends up in Harry’s bed is a total accident.

Words: 18520, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Christmas Without You

by objectlesson

It’s Christmas Eve and Harry misses Louis so badly he might be going little crazy.

Words: 5639, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Vinyl and Lace

by objectlesson

Harry tries on a skirt in the X Factor dressing room as a joke. Louis doesn’t think it’s very funny.

Words: 7541, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Touch of My Hand

by objectlesson

Words: 3104, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: One Direction (Band)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Additional Tags: Tour Bus Sex, Bus Sex, PWP, Up All Night Tour, Uan era, Canon Compliant, baby boyfriends in love, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Established Relationship

Born to Make You Happy

by objectlesson

Harry makes a quiet vow to himself that he will be the very best girlfriend Louis has ever had, even if he never actually gets to be Louis’s girlfriend.

Words: 25662, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Taste of a Poison Paradise

by objectlesson

Louis notices Harry’s mouth right away.

Words: 9894, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

A Little Love (is better than none)

by objectlesson

It’s supposed to be no strings attached sex, but Harry’s in love with beauty and tragedy and Louis Tomlinson so there might actually a few strings they’re not talking about.

Or, alternately, the four times they fuck and don’t kiss, and one time they fuck and do (with a few more times thrown in because I’m a mess and know how to write short fics).

Words: 15074, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

*Take Me Under the Blue

by objectlesson

Louis hasn’t even seen his legs yet. He doesn’t know how they work or how long they’ll be. Maybe they won’t suit the rest of Harry at all, and he’ll have to grow into them or something. It doesn’t matter; Louis has loved Harry for a year with scales, so he can’t imagine wonky legs putting a damper on his attraction. 

He supposes he’ll just have to find out. In the meantime, he wonders how the fuck he got here, in his squelching wellies about to save the love of his life from the sea and take him to bed and bang him for the very first time.

It’s sort of a long story.

Words: 19011, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

[hawkbucks]

Prompt: AU where everything is the same except Howard wasn’t Uber-rich and Tony built SI ground up, focusing on clean energy and science and tech and Bucky meets him for the first time at the expo. (Nat can be his PA?) (modern setting AU?)

“What the fuck!” Bucky exclaims as he drops the laminated badge on the table. He stares at it in disbelief, ignoring Steve’s snickering. Then, he picks it back up and holds it up to the light coming in through one of the windows, scrutinizing it like a hundred dollar bill. His name is typed neatly in the middle, a string of words underneath declaring him to be a VIP pass holder which, holy shit. General admission tickets are hard enough to come by—they’re surprisingly cheap and, by that virtue, sell out faster than Bucky can recite the Stark Industries motto, but VIP passes? Those are usually reserved for rich tech enthusiasts. Insiders. CEO’s of the damn companies that went to the Expo to do some schmoozing, grandstanding, and bragging. People who are people. Not someone like… him.

“Nat thought you would like it,” Steve says, patting him on the back and picking up the now discarded box the badge came in. “Said that it’s her apology for not being able to celebrate with us today.”

“Natasha got me this?” He waves the badge around, wide-eyed, the laminate making wobbly noises with each pass back and forth. “How the hell did she afford it?”

Steve’s genial smile fades away, replaced by furrowed brows and a small frown. “She’s… Tony Stark’s PA.”

“What? Since fuckin’ when?” Last time Bucky checked, Natasha was still working in that old record store down the street with Sam and definitely not working as the personal assistant of one of the most influential men in the world of technology. Maybe the most influential, if Bucky is allowed to be a fanboy.

“Since 2 weeks ago?” Steve tilts his head to the side like a confused puppy. “Remember when she brought you that mug? She said that she told you right after.”

Bucky ponders for a second. “She might’ve, but honestly, I was distracted by th’ mug,” he admits sheepishly. It was a very good mug, in his opinion. It had Tony Stark’s signature printed on it, along with their signature arc reactor logo (and, given the chance, Bucky could gush all day long about the arc reactor and the sheer brilliance behind it, but so far no one has been willing to sit down and listen to that).

Steve sighs. “Why am I not surprised?”

(As he scrolls through his Twitter feed before bedtime, he’s immediately hit by the memory of him fawning over Stark’s appearance in a video uploaded by Stark Industries a week ago. Natasha was visiting, humming as she listened to his adjective-filled rant.

Natasha heard him say that her boss has killer thighs and pretty lips.

He grabs one of his pillows and slams it down over his face, hoping that if he stays in that position long enough, he’d suffocate.)

“I don’t know what to wear,” he moans, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“It’s a convention,” Sam says, throwing him a sidelong look, “not a date.”

He lifts his arm up just enough to glare at Sam. Judging by Sam’s shit-eating grin, however, it’s not very effective. “Exposition,” he corrects. Blegh, he’s starting to sound like one of those pretentious technobabble YouTubers. “It’s an exposition, and I’d rather not go there lookin’ like I was thrown into a washer with my clothes and came out wearin’ whatever stuck.” He breathes in deeply. “And did you know that Nat is Stark’s PA?”

Sam laughs. “Dude, she told me that before she even went in for the interview. She was confident and, hey—” he shrugs his shoulders— “it worked.”

Bucky grunts. “Unfortunately. Or fortunately.” Without her, he wouldn’t have that pass, even if it is proving to be more of an inducer of anxiety than excitement. “Now are you goin’ to help me pick out an outfit or what?”

“Or what,” Sam snickers.

“No, no, the grey one would be better. It brings out your eyes,” Sam comments, leaning against the doorway and watching as Bucky takes off a dusty mauve long sleeve and replaces it with a dark grey button-up.

Bucky quirks an eyebrow. “What happened to not helpin’ me pick out an outfit?”

“I thought about it, and, man… I can’t let you go out looking like a hot mess ‘cause you didn’t get my advice. I’d feel bad.” Sam crosses his arms. “Especially when you’re gonna meet your crush.” He wiggles his eyebrows and deftly dodges the discarded mauve long sleeve that Bucky launches his way.

“S’not a crush,” Bucky hisses, “and the pass isn’t a guarantee that I’ll meet him.”

Sam snorts. “It’s not a crush, you say, as if I haven’t had to listen to you go on and on about how Stark’s revolutionizing clean tech or how he’s donated, like, 3 gajillion bucks to a water charity. And c’mon, Nat’s his PA. You’d be lucky if she didn’t come up with a plan to keep him near you for every damn second you’re at that expo.”

As much as Bucky hates to admit it, Sam does have a point. Nat is notorious for meddling in their love lives for her own amusement, and she has concrete and definite proof that Bucky finds a modicum of attractiveness in Stark. He covers up a pained groan with one hand. Is it too late to send the badge back?

He is horribly, painfully aware that his expression must resemble a fish out of water as he steps into the admissions line. Double-check, triple-check. He has his ID, the badge, and his debit card just in case. Plus his phone, a portable charger, and its actual charger if he’s able to find the time to sit down. A backpack is slung over his shoulders, decorated with pins of his favorite sci-fi shows and a couple superheroes.

The smile he gives to the woman checking his items in is shaky at best, but he finds himself comforted when she picks up on his nervousness and tells him that there’s nothing to worry about, go and enjoy yourself now.

He clips the badge onto his front pocket and tries not to trip over his own feet as he enters the exhibition hall.

Pym Technologies is too busy showing off some sort of shrinking-slash-enlargening formula and he’s too busy trying to desperately not let his mind wander into the gutter to notice Natasha stepping up behind him.

“James,” she says, hand clamping down on his shoulder.

He does not yelp, thank you very much, but he does whirl around quicker than what should be humanly possible and levels her with one of his frowns.

“Grey looks nice on you,” she comments, ignoring his sour face. “It makes your eyes pop.”

“Sam helped.” His gaze flickers down to the clipboard that she’s cradling in one arm, then to the official-looking nametag that she has hanging from a lanyard around her neck. “An’… thanks for the pass.”

“It’s the least I could do for one of my best friends.”

Bucky narrows his eyes as Natasha’s sparkle. That sentence is so not Natasha that his gut is telling him that either a) Natasha has been replaced with a remarkable lookalike who is still trying to get the hang of it or b) she’s about to pull something devious and amuse herself at his expense. Going off the amount of time that he’s known her for, he’s assuming it’s option b.

She looks down at her watch that Bucky is pretty sure is non-functional and says, “I have to go, but you should come by the Stark Industries presentation area at 2. We’re not due to present until 3:30, but your pass will let you in.” She winks, and Bucky knows that should really means you better come or I will hunt you down and not even Steve could save you from my fury.

Each step he takes towards the Stark Industries presentation area feels like another step towards his demise. He can’t help the pounding in his chest or the way his arms start to turn into jelly. He can’t help the sweat threatening to fall from his brow or his knees valiantly attempting to give out. He has a sneaking suspicion in the back of his mind of what Natasha has planned, and he thinks back to what Sam said earlier about how Natasha would not let a second pass where he and Stark were not in close proximity.

He doesn’t even notice that he’s arrived until an arm clad in a black sleeve collides with his chest. He looks up, startled, at a stocky man with a severe expression. “You’re not allowed back here, buddy,” the man says, a firm crease between his brows.

“Uh.” Bucky fumbles with his badge before holding it up. “My friend said that my pass would let me in.”

“Well, your friend was wrong.” The man crosses his arms. “You should get going before—”

“Let him through, Happy.” In swoops Natasha in all her glory, looking like a fiery-haired angel sent down from the heavens. “I told him to come.”

The man—Happy, which is an unfitting nickname if Bucky’s ever heard one (and he’s heard a lot)—stares at him long enough that he contemplates leaving the exposition and quite possibly the country, before grumbling something unintelligible and stepping to the side.

He steps through, shoulders hunched. He doesn’t relax until he’s face-to-face with Natasha. “M’here. Like you told me to be.”

“Color me impressed. I thought you’d ditch.”

He snorts. “And risk havin’ you hunt me down ‘til I die? No thanks.”

“Smart.” She turns around, nearly whipping him in the face with her hair. “Now follow me. I have someone I want you to meet.”

Oh, god no, he thinks as he trails behind Natasha like a duckling. Her heels clack against the polished floor. People scramble to get out of her way, and, judging by the smirk she gives him over her shoulder, she enjoys it. “Tony!” she calls out as they approach a figure with a turned back and no, no, don’t turn around, don’t turn around, do—

and Stark turns around and he has to fight down a weird sobbing noise because Stark manages to look even better in person. Fierce intelligence glitters in his eyes and there’s an ever present curl to his lips, like he’s thought of a joke that he wouldn’t mind sharing if you asked nicely. “Romanoff!” he calls back. “My favorite PA.” Stark locks eyes with Bucky and he holds that gaze for just a moment before tearing away and focusing on Natasha.

“Please, you say that to all your PA’s.” Natasha pats Bucky’s back a bit harder than necessary. “Do you remember that friend I told you about? The one who is a fan of yours? This is him. His name is James and he is very excited to be here.” She lets her hand wander down to his side and pinches him lightly. You talk to him, he can hear her say in his head, because I do not want you to go home and mope to Steve about how you couldn’t. (Is Natasha actually telepathic or has he hanged around her enough that he has adopted a mini-Natasha in his mind? He doesn’t know and at this point he’s too afraid to ask.)

“And I’m very excited to meet him,” Stark says with a wink. Bucky wonders if he died somewhere along the way, because there is no way that Tony Stark just winked at him. Stark sticks his right hand out for a handshake.

Bucky swallows down his anxious thoughts before clasping his left hand with Stark’s right and giving it one, two, three quick shakes. They withdraw, and Bucky tries not to think about the fact that he already misses the weight of Stark’s hand in his own.

“Firm grip,” Stark whistles, and Bucky feels heat rise up on his cheeks. “Stark-made?”

Bucky rolls his left arm—his prosthetic that he’s been wearing since he’s come home from the military. “Baintronics.” Even if he wanted a Stark Industries prosthetic, Baintronics was the one with the military contract.

“Least it’s not Hammer,” Stark jokes.

Bucky chuckles, and that turns into him biting down on his lower lip when Stark smiles, pleased that he was able to draw a reaction. He really doesn’t need to be blurting out something like your smile is so pretty, please let me buy you lunch or I’ve admired you ever since you were in the newspaper for making an advanced medical drone at the age of 18, you’re so smart, please let me buy you lunch or I appreciate the fact that you donate so much to clean energy coalitions, please let me buy you lunch or anything else that would end in him extending an invitation to Stark for lunch. He might be a bit hungry.

“But you know,” Stark starts, taking Bucky out of all of his lunch-related thoughts, “we are starting a round of clinical trials for a new prosthetic designed by yours truly. It’s supposed to introduce finer motor control—sew some thread through a needle kind of fine, if my prototypes are to be believed—and the touch receptors are a thousands times more sensitive. You should be able to feel the ridges on the side of a penny!” Stark beams, the corner of his eyes crinkling. “The installation, though, would be a lengthy process—hopefully not too painful, I’m trying hard not to make it that way, and we won’t be able to get you fitted with one right away, but if it sounds like something you’re interested in, I can, uh… you can sign up. I can’t guarantee that you’ll be picked, but…” Stark looks at him with something like hope glittering in his eyes. “If you want.”  

Bucky considers Stark’s offer for all of 5 seconds before going, “Yes. Yeah. I know you’re not promisin’ it, but if I do end up gettin’ it, it’d be a hell of a lot better than this weighty thing.” He rolls his left shoulder, wincing as the anchor point tugs at his skin.

Stark hums and nods, a flicker of concern crossing his face when Bucky winces. “Much better.” He turns to look at Natasha. “Mark him down, will you, Nat?”

Natasha smiles graciously, whipping a pen out from god knows where, and scribbles something down on her clipboard. “His name is down, Tony. I took the liberty of adding his number, too. Now if you excuse me, Ms. Potts has just arrived and if I remember correctly, you asked me to escort her here.” She bows out of the conversation, subtly jabbing Bucky with her pen as she does so.

“Don’t forget to give her the slice of cake I saved!” Stark shouts as Natasha walks away.

“I never forget, Mr. Stark,” Natasha replies at a much quieter volume.

“She really doesn’t,” Stark comments to Bucky, shaking his head with a fond look on his face (and no, Bucky is not jealous that it isn’t directed towards him). “A true miracle worker. So, James—” and that bright smile is back on his face— “care to talk a bit longer?”

Bucky still isn’t entirely sure if this is a lucid fever dream that he’s having or not, because out of everyone that Tony can talk to, like Rumiko Fujikawa, the runner of one of the most popular tech-focused YouTube channels on the face of the planet, or Reed Richards, the founder of the ambitious Future Foundation, he chooses to talk to him. Plain James Barnes.

It’s mind-boggling.

And seeing this side of Tony Stark? Where he’s relaxed, his tie loosened with no qualms on questioning whether Anakin’s midi-chlorian count would’ve shrunk due to losing a good chunk of his body or whether his blood would simply make more to make up for it while they lounge on a couch that’s too comfortable for its own good? Well…

Bucky clears his throat, cutting Stark off mid-rant. “In Empire of Dreams, Lucas says that if Anakin didn’t get, uh, cut in half on Mustafar, he would’ve been as twice as powerful as Palpatine, so, yeah, I’d say that he lost some of his midi-chlorians.”

Stark stares at him. He looks down at his lap, unsure if he should’ve said that or if he should’ve just kept his mouth shut. “God,” Stark breathes out, “I could kiss you right now.”

Those words send a jolt of electricity down Bucky’s spine; he’s stunned into silence.

“Sorry. Sorry, that probably made you uncomfortable.” Stark waves a hand, a pink tinge appearing on his cheeks. “I’m just—I’m not used to anyone listening when I talk about this stuff, so having you respond… I don’t have a filter. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Bucky says quickly. “S’flatterin’. Never had anyone want to kiss me after a conversation about Star Wars.” Sam did want to do something to him after he forced him to sit through a marathon of the entire series, but he’s pretty sure that that want was the want to strangle him with a plastic bag as opposed to kissing him.

“Maybe you just hang out with the wrong people,” Stark teases.

“I should tell Natasha you said that.”

“Perish the thought.” Stark grabs a handful of pretzels from the bowl set out in front of them by an intern more than likely wanting to get on Stark’s good side. “Anything you’re particularly looking forward to this Expo?” he asks, popping a pretzel into his mouth.

“Pretty much just SI’s presentation,” Bucky admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, Pym’s formula sounds promisin’, but… god, I must sound like a kiss-ass right now.”

“Keep going,” Stark says around a mouthful of pretzel, “it’s doing wonders for my ego.”

Bucky laughs, shoulders becoming less stiff. “Yeah. SI. I’ve been keeping up with your progress on the miniature arc reactors. S’probably the one thing that I’m real into right now.”

Stark leans forward. “The arc reactors?” he asks, intrigued.

“Yeah. They’re small, but they have so much energy in them, you know? 8 gigajoules per second, man,” Bucky whistles. “That’s pretty damn amazin’. Could probably run Times Square for a couple of weeks.”

“More like a couple of hours,” Stark chuckles. “If you ever want to see them up close, I’m sure I can arrange something.”

Bucky can’t stop his jaw from dropping. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. We actually have the big one that powers Stark Tower on display for the people that take the tours, but you said you were interested in the minis…” Stark trails off, tapping his chin with his index finger. “Well, Nat… Nat trusts you, so I think it’s fine if I trust you. I wouldn’t mind bringing you down to show you the minis. ‘Course you’d have to sign some NDAs and go through some security, but, honestly? You seem way more excited and into this than the other people I’ve showed them to. Pretty sure they just want to brag about how the Tony Stark gave them the nickel tour as opposed to being genuinely curious about the science behind the reactors.” Stark leans back into the cushions. “You’re a breath of fresh air, James.”

“Bucky.”

“Hm?”

“You can call me Bucky. It’s what my friends call me.”

Stark throws him a pretzel which he thankfully catches. “And are we friends, Bucky?” he asks with that curl to his lips again.

Bucky barely represses a shudder at the way his nickname rolls off Stark’s tongue so casually, like it was meant to be there. “If—If you want to be.”

“Then we are.” Stark rolls his shoulders and allows himself to sink further into the couch. “I’d also have to insist on you calling me Tony, by the way. Stark is too formal. Because we’re friends.”

Bucky smiles. “Okay, Tony.”

“And, since we’re friends, why don’t you come out with us to dinner? Nothing too fancy, I promise, just some burgers and a milkshake. You up for it?”

Oh, god. He’s gonna have to pay Natasha back big time. Buy her some expensive knife that she’s been eyeing or something. Clean her apartment for a week. Grill her those steaks he makes that she likes so much. To have been given the chance to take Tony off of the pedestal that he built for him and be shown that he’s very much human, then to be given another chance to talk to Tony along with being offered a glimpse at the arc reactors, then to be invited out to dinner by the man himself… damn. “Burgers and a milkshake sounds good. Fries?”

“What meal would be complete without it?” Tony looks at his watch. “I’ve gotta head off to makeup now—they’re gonna make me look all pretty—but I’m gonna be looking for you when I present, okay? Ask Happy to bring you to the front row.” He takes his phone out of his pocket, unlocks it, and hands it to Bucky. “If you’re fine with it, can you give me your number? I need a way to contact you for the arc reactor thing.”

Bucky hopes his hands aren’t shaking as he adds himself into Tony Stark’s contact list under “Bucky :)”. He hands it back to Tony, careful not to drop it.

“Thank you,” Tony singsongs and stuffs his phone back into his pocket. “I’ll hopefully see you later, Bucky.” He mock salutes him and ff Tony goes, a woman with a black apron and a brush immediately magnetizing to his side the second he gets more than a few steps away from the couch.

As he watches Tony leave, Bucky suddenly remembers that Natasha had already put his number down.

[iam93percentstardust]

Hey love! How about some winteriron h/c fluff? Millennial vet Bucky, Tony as his generous amazing self just without IM. T picks B as a test subject for his project on prosthetics he started after making a new [blank] for himself after Afghanistan. B expects the public Tony Stark persona and so he's a bit rude (cuz "fuck corporations and the superwealthy") but can't afford to say no, T picked him cuz he read B's profile and found him hilarious&refreshing. Snarks ensue. You know how it ends ;)

This ended up diverging a little from the prompt but I hope you’ll still like it :)

Also on ao3 here

~

“If there’s one thing I’ve proven,” Stark says on the screen, “it’s that you can count on me to pleasure myself.”

Bucky snorts and shakes his head in disgust. Maybe he shouldn’t be so disgusted by the guy seeing as he’s the one offering to build him a new arm but honestly, Bucky just thinks it’s a publicity stunt. He knows the type of guy that Tony Stark is. He was at the last SI weapons demonstration before Stark nearly got himself blown up and he remembers how drunk the guy had been. He remembers Stark leering at Steve before climbing into a jeep with members of their sister troop—good soldiers, men and women who hadn’t deserved to die defending someone like Stark.

So what if Stark had stopped making weapons?

So what if it had turned out that Stane was double dealing?

So what if it isn’t actually Stark’s fault that Bucky had his arms blown off a few months after Stark announced he wasn’t going to make weapons anymore and the DoD had turned to Hammer who apparently couldn’t even make a decent bomb that blew up while he was setting it?

People are dead because Stark couldn’t pull his goddamn head out of his ass, because he’s just like every other billionaire in the world, obsessed with his own wants and his own wishes and expects the world to bow to his every whim. And now, when he gets called in front of Congress to account for breaking his contract with the DoD, he makes a complete mockery out of the proceedings. Not that that’s all that hard and honestly, Bucky would have probably done the same thing if he’d been in Stark’s position.

Bucky wouldn’t have even accepted the offer of the prosthetic if it hadn’t been for Steve signing the paper for him. He would have told Stark exactly where he could stuff his publicity stunt of a philanthropic endeavor. Steve had been the one to fish SI’s letter out of the trash, sign the waivers and the forms, and mail it back to a Ms. Potts to tell her that he was apparently accepting SI’s oh-so-generous offer.

Eventually, he’ll get Steve back for that. Probably after he gets used to having another arm.

“Mr. Barnes?” someone asks, walking into the waiting area from one of the many branching hallways. “Tony’s ready for you now.”

He stands, tucking his phone back into his pocket, and joins her. She’s pretty enough and once upon a time, he probably would have even flirted with her but that was back when he had two working arms and self-confidence. Now he has one arm, a cheap prosthetic that makes his shoulder seize in pain sometimes, and he’s in therapy to get his head straight.

…Dr. Beck probably wouldn’t call it that though and he’d probably get upset that Bucky is, even if it’s in his own head. He’s big on that whole “use nice terms to describe your PTSD” thing.

…He’s in therapy to learn how to manage his PTSD.

There. That sounds nice, right?

“Tony’s sorry he couldn’t get to you sooner,” the woman tells him as they walk down the hall. Her heels click on the floor, sounding a nice rhythm that Bucky finds himself emulating unconsciously. “He had you lined up for the program ages ago but then everything with Obadiah and—”

“It’s fine,” Bucky mutters. He probably wouldn’t have wanted to meet Stark back then anyway. He doesn’t even want to meet him now.

The woman stops in front of room that looks like it should have glass walls but are currently covered in some sort of black…stuff, Bucky isn’t sure what. A keypad pops out of the wall right next to the door and she types something in that looks long and complicated. Bucky looks away so she’s not worried about him trying to guess the password even though he doubts he could have remembered it even if he’d been hovering right over her shoulder.

The door slides open and Bucky follows her inside—into a wonderland.

There’s a whole bunch of absolutely gorgeous vintage cars in one corner and what looks like actual robots fighting over a smoothie machine in another and blue holograms filling the air and Stark himself talking to…thin air?

Except not thin air because a moment later thin air says, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, sir.”

“Sass!” Stark exclaims. “I’ll donate you to MIT, see if I don’t. Let the undergrads pick you apart.”

“As you say at least once a day, sir.”

“What do I have to do to get some respect around here?” he mutters and before Bucky can stop himself, he snickers.

Stark wheels around, seemingly startled, and peers first at Bucky and then turns to the woman. “Pepper,” he laments. “Why do you let me make a fool of myself?”

“You do that just fine on your own,” she says, smiling fondly.

“Hmph. Sass from you, sass from my own AI—”

“That was an AI?” Bucky blurts out. The articles don’t say anything about something like that.

Stark looks at him again and then asks, “Which answer is less likely to make you think of Skynet? Never mind, not important. Your arm is what’s important and I put it—somewhere. I put it somewhere. What the fuck did I do with it? Pepper!”

“Have you checked the fabricator?”

“…No.” He wanders off towards the robots and some sort of fancy device behind them.

Pepper must see the shell-shocked expression on Bucky’s face as he tries to put together the image of the polished Tony Stark he’s seen on TV with the greasy mechanic wearing goggles on the top of his head in front of him because she says, “You’ll get used to him.”

“Uh-huh,” he agrees doubtfully.

“Do you have a preference on color?” Stark calls from the other end of the—what does he call it, a lab? A workshop?

“What?”

“Color!”

“You might as well join him,” Pepper says. “He really wants your input on this.”

“Why?”

He must sound as confused as he feels because Pepper smiles understandingly at him and says, “Because it’s your arm. I know Tony puts on this front for—everyone, really—but he’s not as bad as he makes himself seem. He blames himself for you losing your arm.”

“Why would he do that? It’s not his fault Hammer makes shitty bombs.”

“No, but it is his fault that the Army went to Hammer in the first place. He still thinks this is the right direction to take the company in but he still feels guilty for what happened to you.”

“Do you agree with him?”

“About the company?” She looks over at Stark, a wistful look in her eyes. “I’ve always thought that Tony could do something more. About you? It doesn’t really matter how I feel. It matters how both of you feel.” She pauses and then adds, “He really liked your application, you know.”

“Application? What application? I didn’t apply for this.”

“No we both know that,” she reassures him. “Your friend did. Said you were too stubborn to take a handout from a stuck-up billionaire to fill out the application yourself. It made Tony laugh.”

Huh. That says something about him, doesn’t it? That he can laugh about being called a stuck-up billionaire?

He glances over at Stark who’s now jumping up and down in the air, waving his arms to get him to go over there. “Barnes!” Stark calls. “I want your opinion on the color of your arm.”

“Wait, that’s what he wants to know?” Bucky asks, amazed. The world suddenly feels like it’s been flipped upside down. “He’s asking my opinion about that?”

“It matters to him,” Pepper says simply. She raises her voice to ask, “Will that be all, Mr. Stark?”

“That’ll be all, Miss Potts,” Stark calls back, grinning like it’s an old joke between the two of them. “Barnes!”

As Pepper leaves, Bucky picks his way across the room, carefully dodging holograms even after Stark says it’s okay to walk through them. “You know, you can call me Bucky,” he says as he joins him.

“Sure, I’ll do that just as soon as you call me Tony,” Stark says distractedly.

“Can do, Tony.”

Tony visibly freezes, shivers a moment, and then flashes him a quick smile. It’s there and gone but it’s still surprisingly lovely, something real and sweet that Bucky thinks he’s gonna have to ponder when he gets home tonight.

“So, color?”

“I don’t really have a preference.”

“Great!” Tony says enthused. “Because I had an idea last night for interlocking plates.”

“Like armor?”

“Yes, but sexier.”

And his enthusiasm must be infectious because Bucky thinks about that quicksilver smile he saw a minute ago and says, “Sure thing, Tony.”

[askthiscpblog]

The Joining

'Keep him contained and keep an eye over him. We have questions, and we will get answers.' Slender commands to the rest, looking down at the unconscious male on the cot. So, this single person was keeping Jeff for all this time, with Char helping, and almost killed him. It was shocking to the aberration being the fact he almost succeeded in it. That was until they came in and saved Jeff's poor ass. With a turn, the slender figure leaves the room to let the others watch over the new person and Jeff. When dusk rolled in the male that goes by the name of Jason wakes up in a drowsy state.

“Aaagggu....” Confused about what is going on, he sits up in the bed he was laying in and with a measured motion looks around the room. It was rather cozy looking. The walls were a soft dark color wood with two windows letting the twilight in and a red oak door. The floor with dark marble flooring, so polished it reflected to him. The room had 5 other beds in neat rows from the opposite of one another, all with a nightstand, except for his. He noticed someone else in the room with him. They were underneath the covers of the bed on the opposite corner to his.

Without thinking he tries to get out of bed until he realized his left hand didn't move from the side of a bed. Looking down at it, leather straps cuffed his hand to the side of it.

“What...that?” Even more confused he scratched the top of his head for a moment until something clicked on his mind. He pulls down his arm in front of him looking at it and gripped his hand into a fist. His face went from tired confusion to a wide eye, puckered lip shook.

“...WHAT THE FUCK!?” He screeched out like a banshee.

The door burst open only seconds later, a small woman appeared in the doorway yelling, “Who the fuck is yelling in here!?” She looked over to where the shouting came from. Standing before was a man with black hair that she had not seen around here before. He seemed to be pretty tall, much taller than her. Then again, most people are taller than her. He also was tense and confused.

“Uhhhh, hi?”

Jason was far too distracted at his arm to realize the new presence in the room.

“No cast, no stitches, not even a scar...” he mutters. He then takes off his shirt to examine the wounds Jeff inflicted on him, they are now gone too. Even some that were there before all this from past fights were gone.

“W-What the...?” He's lost for words. Katie watched the man as he examined himself with intense confusion.

“...I’m gonna take a guess, and say you’re new here, huh?” she said as she sat down on one of the beds. “Don’t worry, the first week or so is a bit disorienting but you’ll get used to it.....So, what’s your name bud?”

He catches her at the corner of his eye and, turning to face her, looks at her.

“Um Jason. Also,” he points at the handcuff, “I’m more of a prisoner.”

“Eh same difference.” Katie stared at the handcuffs for a minute before her eyes returned to him. “The name’s Katie by the way.” She said as she stood up and walked a bit closer. She then continued, “So, who’d you piss off here to get cuffed like that?”

“Well, first I would like to know where I’m at. The last thing I remember I was in a fight and....” he responds in one long sigh; it sounds drawn out to be sarcastic. He looks at his arm for a moment, then starts to put his shirt back on. “I take it you’re not a guard?”

"She is. While I'm the doctor.” Says a man who comes into the room. He wore a black hoodie, black clothes, and a blue mask. On the outside of the mask appeared to be some black goo running down from the eyes.

“Well would you look at that, guess I am huh,” Katie said with a small chuckle.

“Hey, Jack.” She greeted the man without looking back. She recognized his voice by now, it was one of the first she heard when she got here.

"Evening Miss Katie. I am here to inspect Jason's arm to make sure it is healing. And to make sure Jeff is still surviving." He puts a bag down and turned to look at them both. "Please continue, I will look at Jeff first." Jason recognized Jack from the Halloween party and if he is here and so is Jeff then that would mean one thing. He does not like it.

“FUCK!” He tries to break free from the cuff in a panic. All it was doing was bruising his wrist and making it bleed, “Not good, not good not good!” Katie watched as he struggled, slight confusion at his sudden panic clear on her face.

“Woah bud calm down, you’re gonna hurt yourself more.” Katie grabbed his left arm to stop him from messing it up further.

He looks up at her then to Jack. “Look! I want nothing to do with you guys. I’m not with them! All I was after was Jeff! I swear!”

"So, you're willing to spill what you know about them?" EJ responds, looking up from checking up on Jeff. So, this was who took that Jeff guy. Katie knew they were looking for him for months and that someone took him but didn’t know much else. She stared at the two confused.

“I don’t know much about them. Was only offered a chance to get Jeff.” He replied to Jack, knowing full well they only kept him alive to be interrogated. “They try to recruit me after the party, but I refused.”

"Well, now you have a choice. Join us or let your family die before you do." Jack didn't look at him as he spoke, looking at the unconscious body of Jeff and checking his vitals.

Jace slaps Katie’s hand off him. His voice rose from the depths of his personal feelings he had about this, “YOU KEEP MY FAMILY OUT IF THIS INKEYE! THEY HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS!”

Katie looked at her hand and back at Jason with a deadly glare. Her hand still red from where he smacked it away. Katie had patience, but it always wore thin fast, and she was getting tired of this man’s yelling.

Jack turned and looked at him, a small grin appearing under the mask. Moving forward, he pushed Jace back into the cot. "Kaite, will you help me strap him down please?"

“Yeah, no problem...” she said as grabbed his right arm that wasn’t cuffed to the bed. Jason looked at Katie then back to Jack, not liking the look he is giving him. He struggled and screamed like a mad man giving the woman a hard time keeping hold of his arm. Then his chest fell back into the bed thanks to the doctor pushing him there.

“Stop! Stop! Let go! Let go of me!” The anger in his voice melting to a childlike panic, becoming high and shrill as tears lined his eyes. Jack reached over and cuffed his arm to the bed, then moved down to pin his legs to the bed too.

"Now, the more you struggle the worse it will get. But please, keep doing so. The smell of your blood and seeing your blood fill with panic only makes you taste better." With that EJ leans over Jace, moving the mask aside at the bottom to reveal grey skin. Three long black tongues fall out and slither over themselves above his face. After a bit of a struggle, she finally got his arm down on the bed. Despite still annoyed from the hand slap earlier, she didn’t blame him for panicking. It was a reasonable reaction to the situation at hand. Hell, she would most likely do the same. But still, she kept quiet as she held him down.

Tears start to roll down Jason’s cheeks as the spittle of the monster hands on him. Whimpering on what’s about to happen as he shakes his head from side to side until his eyes landed on Jack. He froze with eyes widening with pure terror because the face changed. Jack’s skin was turning paler and paler to a bleach white. His hair grew long and greasy, oil covering it from root to tip; his smile ripped open from ear to ear. The worst thing that could happen was eyeballs grew in his sockets to an unblinking stare. Before his very eyes, Jack now takes the form of his true monster, Jeff.

As it did the night of his fight with Jeff, Jason’s mind snaps. He screeched as he lunged his head forward and bit down on one of Jack’s tongues. Black blood oozed in his mouth. He then starts to devolve into convulsing as the leather strap on his arm tears, and the wood that held the other end of his cuffed arm cracked.

Feeling the bite, Jack yanked back, screeching a near-deafening, inhuman screech. His mask flew off as he moved forward, mouth closed but oozing black blood as he put a hand around Jace's throat. His brown, black hair messy as he tried to keep his face half-covered. He pushed down tight, looking over to Katie to help keep the guy under control.

"Looks like we have a case of PTSD here. Katie, would you mind getting me something to knock him out?" He asked, keeping a calm voice through it all. Either that will knock him out, or Jack choking him out and cutting off blood flow will. One will do it, all a matter of which will happen first.

“Uh yea no problem...” Katie said as she looked around, “Do you got chloroform and a rag in here?” It was either that or her knocking him out herself, and this guy had been through enough already. But she’d do it if she had too regardless.

"Third door from the right, second shelf on the left," Jack responded, taking his other hand and pinning Jace's torso down. The more force applied down on him, the more violent he becomes. The leather strap finally broke and Jason’s arm slammed the side of Jack’s head with unusual strength. Swinging at everything within his power to get the make-believe Jeff off him to the point of clawing as if he was a raved animal.

Katie grabbed Jason’s arms, holding them both down with all her body weight. At this point, she needed him to calm down from the episode if she wanted this ordeal to end.

“You need to calm down.” She said in a calm and stern of a voice she could. Not getting angry at him and raising her voice.

Seeing what she did, Jack let go of his chokehold and moved to the shelves. Well, there was a drug that could do the trick. With deft hands, he pulls it out with a needle and pulls it up.

"Keep his arms from moving as much as you can." He tells Katie, taking a few long strides over with it. "This should knock him right out."

His eyes were still locked on Jack as he returns, his arms flailing. His left wrist cut deep from the cuffs that it is hitting muscle now and the wood that is holding the other end is starting to splinter. His right arm was shaking Katie up and down like a mechanical bull trying to sting her off. He could hear nothing but a cackling from his memories. He fought to break free and is so close but watch with horror at the knife in the imposter Jeff’s hand. When Jack got to the foot of his bed a word finally shot out of him, “Ja- JAAAANE!!"

"She won't help you here." Well, never said he wasn't an asshole to make it worse. In goes the needle into his vein, even with the struggling, he aimed it right. Shooting it in, he made sure all it got through before it came out.

"It should only take a few seconds for it to work. It's the stuff they use for wisdom teeth extraction." His struggling lost intensity, almost sluggish until he closed his tear-filled eyes. The tension in his body finally released and fell back into the bed, breathing heavy from the exhaustion on his body and mind. Katie held his arms a few moments longer to make sure that he wasn’t going to resist anymore. She let go of his arms with a slight sigh of relief, looking at Jason as took deep breaths.

“I’m no genius, but I’m going to take a guess and say he doesn’t like that Jeff guy...”

"From the looks of it a victim who survived by Jane." Jack put the needle onto the side table and felt his jaw. Man, his fucking tongue hurt where he bit it.

"You know what..." He mumbles, lifting Jace's shirt, he takes a knife and cuts open a place where his kidney is.

Katie grabbed Jack by the wrist, not looking at him as she scolded him, “No. Poor bastards had enough....at least for today.” Her voice was stern again. She had gotten over this whole ordeal, and this guy did not need another reason to flip his shit again once he came too.

"I was just doing to prank him, not take his kidney." Blood was already pouring out of the cut. "Going to stitch it up and make him think I did when he wakes up. Teach him fucking twice for biting my tongue." Jack pulled his wrist away from her and turned, holed eyes looking down. Man, was she always so short to him? Taking a needle and thread, he begins to stitch the skin back together. The skin lined up to one another, making it heal without a scar. "If you care so much, you can stay and keep an eye on him while I go tell Slender and send in some backup." With that, the blue masked demon left the room.

Anon runs and pants, fear clear on their face even though they were wearing a mask.

“Holy crap... what happened here?! I heard a battle going on! Do you guys still need help or is everything alright?”

‘Should’ve kept my mouth closed.’ was all Katie thought as the new person busted through the door.

“Yeah uh...everything’s fine, guy had a PTSD episode or whatever Jack said.” She said while sitting down on one of the other beds with a sigh. She kept a mental note not to be here for the next freak out when he wakes up again.

"Jesus... alright... I'm new... um...hi? What's your name?" Anon looks a bit awkward and uncomfortable. It took Katie a minute to process the question through her slight exhaustion.

“Katie, yours?” How many people were in this place? It seemed like there was a new person here every other day. Or maybe she never noticed them? She didn’t know and was a bit too tired to think about it more.

"Anonymous but most call me Anon..." They whine, walking in, their hands in their pockets still uncomfortable about the sudden burst in.

“Well Anon, it’s good that you’re here....” Katie said as she stretched. “I’m gonna need some help watching over this guy. Or at least for when he wakes up again.” Katie did not want to deal with the guy by herself the next time he flipped his shit, too much of a headache.

“Understandable, I don’t mind helping.” They decide to sit down and seem more confident and comfortable now, knowing that they're needed here.

Hours later Jason wakes up in a groggy state. Not wanting to wake up, but the pain on is his wrist and side aches. He reaches over to his side and can feel fresh stitching in it.

“What that hell?” He groaned as he sits up, struggling to try and not rip the stitches.

“Hello...I see you have woken up?” Anon asks, tilting their head. Looking to the Slender hybrid, he groans,

“Hi.” He shifted in the bed then yelped from pain. He turns his head down to his cuffed wrist. It’s the color of eggplant from bruising and the scabs broke and started to bleed turning the sheets even darker in red. He points at the handcuff.

“Can you...get me out of this. I need to treat this and some whisky with a side of water.” He said as he looked back at her. He was not in a good mood after his blackout. “I have a bad taste in my mouth. Like I took a bite of rotten liver.”

"I don't know if I'm allowed to, but I can at least get some stuff to heal that. It looks pretty sore..." They walk up and sniff at the blood, drooling. "I know what rotten liver is like. It’s not the best."

“I don’t want to know how you know that and I prefer to patch up my wounds. Just unlock me and I promise you I won’t run. I know when I’m outmatched.” Jason explained, exasperated and exhausted. He didn’t try to give a single damn about this situation.

“I don’t have keys but ok.” They reach forward, grab the handcuffs, and break them.

It was at this moment that Slender and EJ enter, looking at the situation before them. It was interesting to see, and kinda amusing to the two. EJ moved over to Jace, grabbing his hands to look down over the wounds. "I will take care of them, not you. You won't do it well enough." With that he let them go and went to check the cabinet.

'Anon, I suppose that he hasn't been giving you trouble. And same with you, Miss Katie?' The eldritch figure looked down at Jace and the rest of them, no eyes giving any sign of emotion. 'You two are welcome to stay if you wish.'

“I came into the room myself a bit ago dad, I’m as confused as her. Also, her name is Katie knows more than I do. I ran in as I heard panic.” Anon reports, turning away afterward as they whisper to themselves on how they’d love a bite. They twitch as they look towards Jace, tempted by the smell of blood and flesh.

'I am not your father, take care to remember that child.'

Jason withdrew his hand from EJ, trying to keep it to himself. “After the stunt you pulled, I don’t think so, also I don’t remember this before I blacked out.” He pointed at the stitching on his body, not paying any mind to the Slenderman.

“What stunt?” Anon tilt their head again, a quizzical look on their face.

"He decided to bite my tongue," EJ responds, looking over his shoulder to Jace before getting the last few things. "You can try to fight me on this and end up worse, or let me do my job."

"Oh... yeah... sorry. It's uncle, right?" Anon is looking embarrassed again, the heat rising to their face. Man, they were thankful for the mask right now.

'Yes.' Slender looked over to Jason, a tendril coming out to force him to look at the eldritch horror. 'Now Jason, we are going to talk.' Anon watches with curiosity on how agile he was with his.

Jason moved the tendril away, looking at Slender dragging each work, “As I told ink eyes I don’t know shit. I was only after the psychopathic slack-jawed over there,” he pointed over to Jeff’s bed, “I don’t want anything to do with you or the super blowjob monster.”

'Well, that isn't going to stop me.' Slender pulled up a chair and sat down on it, crossing one leg over the other. With no warning, he bore through Jason's mind to gather the information needed. 'I can tell you do not know anything. So, I offer you this, you work with us to keep them at bay. In return, it gives you an up-close and personal time to study him,' he tells him, projecting it all to them, pointing towards Jeff, 'and you will work under Jane. If you kill him while working so be it but that doesn't mean, we won't try and save him. He is...useful after all.'

Anon looks somewhat surprised by the comment, ‘-super blowjob monster-‘ as they believe that they meant their father. Still Slender felt more of a father than he did. Deciding to mimic Slender they grab a chair and sits beside him while keeping quiet.

Jason pondered for a moment. “So, Jane is here as well...now what if I still refuse?”

'You put your family in danger. From both us and the opposition. Your cooperation will spare them from us at least.' He knew threatening the family is a risky move with him, but he is dedicated to them at least.

“Ooh... risky... uncle, I wouldn’t mind helping if possible. That’s if you don’t mind?” Anon look up at him, their black eyes with white glowing irises, eager to prove themselves. They then hold their stomach. “Mmf... did I forget to eat today?” They huffed.

Jason, not missing a beat, grabbed his pillow and throws it at Anon’s face. “You touch my family I will make you regret it and that’s a promise.” His pitch dropped, then softened as he continues to speak, “But knowing that Jane is here maybe we can cut a deal, but first my throat hurts. If I can have some scotch on the rocks to soothe it. Then we can talk.”

Slender looked over to Kaite, head tilting down to her to address her. 'Miss Katie can you go get that, and Jane too please.' A stern voice emanated through their heads, but the others it was faint. At that moment EJ came back and put the gauze down that has squeezed out iodine to begin taking care of Jason’s wrist.

"Now this will sting, but you can take it." He nabs one of Jace's bloody wrists and begins to wrap it up, keeping it still so he couldn't pull away. No matter how hard he tried.

Anon grabs it before it hits their face. “I don’t want to...hurt you or your family.” They huff and seem to struggle a bit as their hands grow into claws and the one holding the pillow rips the pillow by accident.

“I’m a good person. I just…have problems.” They mumble to themselves looking around for anything they could eat. The smell of his wounds was strong and still rather inviting to Anon’s other side. But their human side knows it’s wrong to eat friends.

“I shouldn’t be here right now.” They struggle to move as they stare at Jace while drooling a bit which drips behind the mask.

Katie’s head snapped towards Slender. “Uh…yeah sure.” She had zoned out a while ago and hadn’t realized other people arrived, or that Jason was even awake. She walked down to the kitchen, still a bit exhausted from the earlier fiasco.

“Jane, big man needs ya!” She yelled out as she made the drink.

'Then leave and go find some food. Don't come back until you're sated.' Slender demands. 'If you cannot control yourself then leave. Either gain some discipline or act like the animal you are right now.'

Jane meanwhile heard Katie call, and so down she came. "If he needs me, he can c-ack!" She started to say, only to have it interrupted by Slender demanding she come down. His presence overwhelmed her for a second, causing the pain and for her to stagger down the stairs. Passing the kitchen, she looked in at Katie before going to EJ's medic room.

Katie rolled her eyes and followed Jane with the drink, handing it to Jason once she got there. She felt like a damn maid for a second.

'Thank you, Katie.' Slender tells her. 'I might have a mission for you if you're interested. We can talk about it later.'

“Whatever stops me from being stuck here doing nothin' all the time, I’ll take.” She responded with a huff.

Jason grabbed the drink and raised it to Katie, “Thanks.” He then looked over to Jane. A look of guilt washed over his face for a moment then he sighed, sipped the drink, and let the burn of the whisky soothe his throat. Resisted the urge to go hug her, but there are more pressing matters now. After the long pause, he looks back at Slender. Taking the next words in a professional tone, “Alright....I’ll work with you guys until your little war over with. I don’t think I can get out any sooner, but I do have some demands if I’m going to work with you guys.”

With Slender saying that to them, it infuriated them as they bit Slender in the arm. They screeched, "I’m not a monster...YOU ARE!" Their sharp teeth sunk into his arm as they lock on him instead, their mask falling off revealing their human face.

Jason was not expecting this. Not saying a word, he takes a long sip of his drink. ready to see the shit show unfold before him.

If Slender had a proper face, it would show disgust and annoyance with the situation at hand. Lifting his arm, he flings Anon from it and through the wall with the tentacles flying after them. Impaling them through the head and heart, killing them, he didn't once look away from Jason as this happened.

'EJ, fix up Anon and make sure they stay out for a few days.' He orders. EJ all the while was working on Jace's wrists, having them bound uptight and healing from the struggle earlier. Groaning and rolling his nonexistent eyes, he bounds over to pick Anon to revive them on the other side of the room.

'As you can see, death is not the worst thing that can happen here. You are in no position to demand anything, but I will hear of them none the less.'

Jason was silent, realizing this guy was heartless, but damn. With a shaking hand, he finishes his drink and places it down with a little bit of a clatter. Getting off the bed walking to the monster, hearing the ringing of his blood, only feeling his heartbeat race as he gets closer. He stops right at Slender face and looked him where he believes his eyes would be. His mind is racing on what to do and focusing not to run. He takes a shaky breath and then steals himself.

“And I say I have every right to make demands on this ordeal. If you want me to cooperate, I want them fulfilled and in return, I’ll do my best to do what you or Jane wants me to do around here.” His tone was drier than desert sand, trying to hold his ground, but not wanting to be too aggressive. But he failed to realize the trembling of his legs, giving away his false confidence.

Jane looked over to Jace and started, "Jace don't-"

‘Silence.' One word was all it took. Slender looks at this man in front of him, this child, as he tried to make a stand against someone like him. With this he stood up from the chair, inch by inch towering over the killer in front of him. How silly it had to look to everyone else from this, a human trying to stand up to a near god.

'You do not. I am only hearing this out of the graciousness of my hospitality. You have yet to make your demands child. Be quick about it, else I lose my patience with you.'

“Fine.” He holds up his hand and raised his index finger on his first demand. “My family and any extended family are granted immunity from all members and or allied and implied that are on your side. Also, protection from the opposite faction along with 3rd party that is or may be sent by them.” The rest of his fingers raised one after another corresponding to his next demands. “I stick to my ways of killing. I refuse to murder or kidnap anyone that’s under the age of 18 or anyone that would be defenseless that’s not on the opposing faction. Next, I would like privacy. No invading my memories, inner thoughts without or my room permission. That includes anyone that you order, ask, or suggest to. The only time you can do it without my permission is whether you suspect me going rogue or an emergency.” He thinks to himself for a moment then makes his last three demands. “I want all my laptop that I was in the warehouse of the night I faced off Jeff. Exactly how it was before you guys came busting in. I also refused to be used as a puppet so no mind-controlling or puppet mastering either. Finally," he finished, gritting his teeth, “my last demand is don’t let those guys win......” He remembered how his last argument with Skully raged him on how much he didn’t care about the many that lost their lives in the raid of the mansion.

“We have a deal?” He offers his trembling hand to Slender.

The eldritch figure bore his gaze into the killer below him, seeing him hold up his hands making demands. The tremble in his voice, the shaking hand as he attempted to keep up his tough-guy act. How quaint was it that humans needed to put on a show in front of each other? This one is specific in front of those he calls his family, Jane, who was behind him.

'You act tough for someone so weak-willed. Your family will get protection from us, but they will not be guarded by us. They are on their own when it comes to the war. If the other faction decides to involve them, then so be it. We are not guardians. We are killers.' Slender looked down at Jason's extended hand before using a tendril to pick him up by the shirt, forcing him to look him eye to eye. Rather, white face to eye.

'Your ways of killing are fine, do as you please and see fit. If I order you to kill someone or something, you do it. Regardless of it is a babe in a cradle, you will do it. This is for a greater purpose than some heightened sense of honor you have. You are a killer you have no sense of honor and don't deserve it anyway. Privacy from me is not a thing here, you do not get a choice. You get your room however you please, but there is no hiding anything from me. It is my gracious hospitality that I allow you to stay, thus I demand what I please out of you. Besides, it isn't like that will stop any of the others in the house from snooping around as they see fit. ' The last three demands were amusing to the creature, curious on why he wanted those so bad. It was not letting them win that made the abomination chuckle in amusement. 'That is why you are here you are helping us not let them win this fight. The other things are of no issue, but I will do what I must to succeed. Do I make myself clear Jason?'

His eyebrow raised from the comment on the honor comment. “I...I see. Well, we may have a problem with the order. Have me kill whoever you want me to kill, that isn’t going to work out so well, but we will worry about that if it happens. Try to keep your peeping Tom self where I don’t notice it. And my family I’ll figure something out on that, but thanks.” He gives the aberration a quick kiss on his faceless face.

“Now our contract is sealed.” His nerves start to calm down from the shock of Anon’s sudden death.

It was at that moment Slender dropped Jace from his full height, letting him fall the full distance on his own. He did nothing to help or slow him down. 'What the hell is this shit? Where the hell did your fear go?' He demanded, before hearing Katie and looked over to her. Ah yes, he did have a plan for her.

Katie sat quietly as the new guy joined the team. Another face and named that she would have to remember. “Does that mean I don’t have to babysit this guy anymore? I’m getting kind of bored here.” she blurted the question out. She had been sitting around here much more than she would like to and was ready to do anything other than play nanny for a few more hours.

'That is correct. Please, report to my office in 15 minutes. I will give you a mission to go out on.' Slender explains to her. EJ looked up from this, having to revive Anon his top priority. They were stable and breathing again, but out cold for the next day or so.

“Shit! Ow!” He said and he falls on his back and sits up, frantically rubbed the back of his head from the pain. He looks up at the tower know as Slender and responded to his question. Finding it a bit funny that even a....whatever he is was thrown off sometimes.

“Well. You caught me off guard with the sudden fatality done on your relative. So sudden that it discombobulated me. Now that I think about it. I was never good with jump scares.” He gets back on his feet and crossed his arms at the figure. “Besides you ain’t got nothing on my Nana when she is angry. Now that is true terror.” He said with a grin but stops suddenly by a wince with pain.

"Mmf..." This is the only sound Anon made in a while, proving they are alive thanks to EJ’s efforts, even from true fatal blows.

“I’ll be there when you get there,” Katie huffed as she left to go to the office, having nothing else to do beforehand.

[gwen-tolios]

Trumpet Wars

There were always rivalries in band. The clarinet section hated the flutes, the saxes the trumpets. Tubas were the cool people that got along with everyone, the rest of the low brass feeding off their coolness just enough to not be ignored while still being shuffled aside. And then it was all the winds versus percussion.

But that was normal school stuff. While the rivalries had been heated and fun during middle school and high school, by the time Ken hit university it was just an inside joke that only showed up in prank Christmas gifts and happy hours. Okay, and maybe the occasional jokes on the blackboard, but that was the professors doing.

But animosity towards a fellow player, trumpet or not, he hadn't felt until his senior year.  The Dungoo Symphony Orchestra announced a search for new members. Ken and others from around the country sent in audition tapes and all those who passed in the tri-state area had been informed to show up at the music department. 

While he would have traveled across three state lines to the audition, Ken was happy he only had to cross three streets and a rather large grassy hill.

Ken was surprised at how many people were there warming up. He thought the process would be more selective and that he wouldn't be going up against more than fifteen other trumpets. Sure, this location was only one of seven in the country for DSO auditions, but really, 60 others? More actually, as he signed in on the 60th line and more came in after him. 

With such a wait time ahead of him, Ken decided to put off warming up. They had been told ten minutes per audition, but he suspected things would fall behind. He grimaced. Hopefully they wouldn’t cut later additions short due to time.

Ken pulled out his trumpet, propped his sheet music up inside the case, and went through fingerings after he finished greasing the values. He got lost in his head, imagining the sounds he’d create. A vibrato on this whole note, double tonguing that run, circular breathing during that ballad-esque passage. It was only when one of the professors came in to announce four names to follow her did Ken figure he should start blowing wind through his trumpet.

As he fitted his mouth piece on, felt a harsh glare on the back of his neck.  He turned around to see a Hispanic man, maybe late 20s, looking at him through narrow eyes.  Something about Ken obviously riled him up, and now that Ken looked back he thought that same thing. His uncombed hair, the stiff color of his shirt, and, oh man that trumpet! Hadn't the other guy heard of polish?

Ken tried to shake of the sudden violent dislike and blew air through his instrument to warm up the metal before settling into a range of scales. Wanting to show the other guy he might as well pack up and go home, Ken made sure to use his best tone and went slightly faster than normal. Ken turned, looking out of the side of his eye at the other guys in a challenge.  

When he paused for breath the Hispanic took over, playing with the complementary minor scale. No, the blues complementary scale with its skipped notes and accidentals.

Ken did two octaves.

The other man did it double tongued.

On the same brainwaves, they each took a deep breath and started playing C, trying to not be the first to let the sound die.  Even with circular breathing, Ken was running out of air, but he held out for one half of a second longer.

He sent a cocky smile to his new found rival.

The other man looked murderous. Carefully, he put down his trumpet, and then stood up looking as if he was going to sock Ken.  

But, as he was standing, the other's face smoothed out, his desire to start a fight fading. In fact, he looked as if he didn't actually know why he wanted to start a fight to begin with.

That grated Ken.

“What, not man enough to do anything?”

The other man flopped a hand at him. “I've got better things to do.”  And with that, he sat in his chair again. But as soon as he touched his trumpet, something strange happened. It was if the metal burned him. He looked up at Ken.

“What?” Ken snarled at him.

Still looking at him, the man took his hand on and off the trumpet. The behavior was so odd Ken's dislike of the other faded to confusion. What was he doing?

Before he could think of an answer, his number was called. Goodness, he was so caught up in competing he hadn't actually played any of his trouble sections. Too late now. It wasn't like he hadn't practiced the piece a billion times.

To his surprise, his new found rival was called too. The professor indicated they were to each stand outside a different door. There was already another trumpeter standing at each one.  Shortly after they took their places, a girl walked out of Ken's assigned room. A voice barked out 'next!'. The already waiting player stepped inside and Ken scooted closer.

Ken spent the time fingering. Glances at the Hispanic man showed him doing the same. Eventually, two more trumpets arrived and stepped into line behind each of them, and then Ken was called into the room.

Deep breath, he told himself. Think of it as an S&E competition, you rocked at those.

The room was one of the small, not much space for more than a stand and the panel of three judges five feet away.  

He said hello and gave a little bow.

“Let's start with scales. Play C minor.”

Half way through the scale, he realized he could hear sounds from the other audition room, and he knew exactly who was playing.

In hindsight, he doesn’t really remember playing for the three DSO representatives. His entire focus was playing better than the other player. He didn't care if he didn't land a job, as long as he was better. He had never felt so passionate about playing his best. He had also never played as good. Tone, breathing, color, technique, he had never gotten this close to perfect playing.

Once dismissed, Ken looked toward the other room. It was still shut, so he walked toward the warm up place. He sat and gave his trumpet a quick polish.

As Ken closed his case, he looked up and watched the other auditioner enter the room. As he passed Ken figured he should be friendly despite everything. He didn't know what sparked the animosity he felt towards the other player, but maybe getting to know him would help.  Ken held out his hand. “Hi, I'm Ken Price.”

The other trumpet sneered at his hand and quickly went to put down the instrument. As soon as he did so, his face relaxed and he turned around to offer his own hand just as Ken was pulling his back. “Conor Caraballo.”

They shook.

“Look man,” Ken began. “I felt extra competitive today. Not sure why, but I just wanted to let you know it wasn't your fault.”

Conor nodded. “No big deal. Hey, try something for me?”

Ken shrugged. “Sure.”

“Look at me without touching your trumpet, and then while you are.”

It was a crazy suggestion, but Ken figured there was a reason for it considering Conor had done just that earlier. He sat on a chair and pulled his case onto his lap. With a snap, he released the catches. With his hands hovering over the trumpet, Ken looked at Conor and thought about what he felt about the guy.

Okay, kinda friendly and maybe a little bipolar, but a pretty darn good trumpet player.

Ken placed his hands on the trumpet.

Conor was a no good show-off who shouldn't be because he had no skills to show off in the first place. He smelled, cheated, manipulated others to gain ranks in groups, he -

Ken took his hands of the trumpet.

Conor zipped his own case closed. “See what I mean?”

“That was...weird.”

“You're telling me.”

“So...our trumpets hate each other?”

“Did you hear yourself? That's crazy.”

“Yeah, but...” Ken trailed off, looking at his instrument before slowly closing the case. “You have any other ideas?”

“No. Just that I'm gonna ignore it and hope I never see you in a situation like this again.  And now, to make up for all that anger I felt towards you I feel like I should buy you a beer.”

“I know just the place.”

[bcbdrums]

Purification

All right.  @cocoa-at-night was mad at me, and I know others will be... So this is in fact a second sequel to "Torment.”  I already had this idea in my head as a possible sequel so... Who says I can’t write two!  Therefore, readers, you get two options now.  Decide which way you prefer the story to end. 

To be very clear, this is a different sequel than “Immolation” and follows a different path to a different ending.  It begins the same however.  Please enjoy “Purification.”

FFn     AO3

---------

Purification

Shego ran the dampened washcloth over the smooth, polished surface of the bar and stared at the grains of wood beneath. She nearly had them memorized, for how many times she'd run the cloth over them to wipe away the condensation left by the rims of drinking glasses. She always tried to find vague shapes in their patterns; faces and objects and sometimes familiar ocean waves. She didn't have anything else to do with her days, after all.

The small wall-mounted television in the corner continued to play news from the local channel, and after three years she could finally understand the Spanish of the broadcast. She'd picked up the local slang faster by necessity, since she couldn't use her powers to protect herself from the type of crowd the bar attracted. It was ironic, for its nearness to the Caribbean, but the slums of El Salvador had been the perfect place to hide. She easily translated the broadcast into the more comfortable English:

"...And here is Dr. Drakken only days ago, unveiling his latest innovation at the world's largest scientific conference in Berlin..." the voice from the TV cut through the minimal noise at the late hour in the bar.

A soft smile came to Shego's face. And then suddenly her vision was filled with the large form of a dark-skinned man wearing a t-shirt that had seen too many years, and with a face that hadn't seen a razor in weeks.

"Venga, chica. Bailar conmigo."

Shego stepped back from the strong scent of alcohol and scowled at the man, a regular at the establishment, but one who never quite took the hint. Especially not when he had had too many.

"Raquel?" came the accented voice of Esteban, her boss and the owner of the place, from across the room where he was wiping down tables and stacking chairs for closing.

She leaned around the offensive man to merely smirk at her boss knowingly in return. He grimaced slightly, no doubt wondering how much of a mess there would be to clean after she was finished with the brute.

Truthfully, she didn't always reject the men who asked her to dance. Whenever she'd had a few shots it was easier to say yes, and she enjoyed closing her eyes and moving to the rhythm of the music, and imagining herself in a different place. But it would always end the moment any of them tried to lay a hand on her...

She couldn't cross that line. There was only one set of hands she ever wanted to touch her, and they never would. Allowing herself to indulge once and pretend with anyone else would open the gate to far worse sins than her most definitely out of control drinking, and she didn't want to deal with the ramifications of heading down that path.

She still wasn't sure when she'd fallen in love with Drakken. She'd certainly been in love with him before she left, but she'd only realized the fact while in her self-imposed exile, when all she could think about was him.

Numerous magazines and newspapers were delivered to the tiny room she rented above the bar, but not of the variety she'd used to get. Now it was all science periodicals, and world news... And her wall was adorned with newspaper cutouts with his familiar, confident grin. The only reason she watched the news at all was for word of him.

She was pathetic.

Her 'clean break' as she'd hoped to make it seemed to have worked for him. He was finding the success she knew he would as soon as she was out of the picture, no longer holding him back. She knew that would have been the result had she stayed, making him question his sudden yearning for 'good.' Less for good, she knew of course, and more for the recognition and honor his genius rightly deserved. She wouldn't have said that years ago, but with the new understanding she had of her feelings...

She couldn't have stayed. He would have denied himself for her. And she refused to let herself think it was because his feelings were deeper too. No, that wasn't possible. It had been made abundantly clear to her over their four years as partners in crime that he simply didn't think of her that way. She was little more than an asset and a comfort; a listening ear for his endless dronings and rantings, easily replaced.

So she had left a note on her pillow one day after painfully listening to him describe the amazing job offers he had received, and simply vanished. She knew he would come looking for her, as he always did because 'he needed her,' so she had made herself impossible to find. She'd not hardly used her powers in three years, and she'd managed to convinced the locals in the high-poverty, high-crime rate slums she'd hidden in that her skin color was due to something between genetics and illness.

'Shego' was gone.

Now she was Raquel, the barmaid who drank too much, wouldn't let anyone get close, and who had a strange obsession with science magazines. Esteban and others had tried to get her to talk about herself, or her apparent science interest for awhile, but they'd finally taken the hint that she was out there in the middle of nowhere, at one of the only respectable establishments in those slums, to make sure know one ever knew her story.

Shego waited until Esteban wasn't looking, and then she lifted her hand above the leering man's head as his greasy fingers reached across the bar for her, and she let him have just enough of a pressure blast from her glow to knock him out. When the man's large, dead-weight hit the floor, her boss turned with a start.

"Ai ai ai, Raquel! Someday I will see how you accomplish that."

Shego merely smirked as her eyes shifted back to the television. It was a simple, lonely life... One that she might leave someday to pursue other interests. 'Shego' as the world had known her could probably never return, after her world-saving ventures with Drakken. She wouldn't want to put his career at risk in any way. But living from day to day and drink to drink, with only her periodicals and the TV to briefly soothe the ache in her heart wasn't plausible. She needed to move on.

The reason she hadn't was for the lack of one thing in every photo, article, and broadcast about the blue former villain who had saved the world: he was always alone. Even the candids taken by paparazzi that she would find in the trash magazines she had specially delivered only ever showed him having breakfast alone at a sidewalk cafe, or seated alone in an audience as he waited to accept an award.

Why hadn't he met someone and settled down already?

That was the last piece... That was what was missing. When Drakken finally had a woman on his arm, and his happiness was complete...then she could risk moving out into the world and being seen again. If he had someone else, he most definitely wouldn't need her. And she wouldn't have to face up to the fact of possibly seeing him again, with the feelings she'd been harboring for too many years that simply refused to die.

"...It has been confirmed to have been a suicide attempt now, as a note was leaked to the press by a source who wishes to remain anonymous from within Japanese Intelligence..."

Shego's attention snapped to the television, where now a years-old photograph of Drakken at the UN, wearing his medal, was displayed in the corner of the screen as the Spanish news anchor continued to read the copy.

"The note was addressed to fellow-hero Kim Possible, and the text reads: 'I can't figure out what I did wrong. I can't live without her anymore. I'm sorry.' The note was not signed, but handwriting analysis easily showed it to be in the script of Dr. Drakken."

Shego felt the world spinning around her as her vision seemed to spin in the opposite direction. Her head swam and ached all at once, and she could see bright spots dancing in front of her eyes even as her view darkened. She stumbled forward to lean against the bar as she struggled to listen to the television.

"And the world remains in shock, one week from the date the acclaimed scientist attempted to take his life by jumping from the roof of the Osaka World Trade Center. We will keep you updated with more details as the story continues to unfold. This is Paola Ramos, reporting."

Suicide attempt? Drakken, of all people? It didn’t make sense... He had everything...everything he had ever dreamed of, and more. She had made sure of it by removing herself from his life so he would have nothing holding him back. How could he have attempted suicide?

"Raquel! ¿Qué pasa?"

She peered upward and let Esteban take her hand and help her straighten up from where she had all but slumped over the bar.

"Phone..." she managed to get out, her throat strangely tight. “I need...I need to know...”

“You need to make a phone call?” he asked.

Shego nodded. As Esteban fumbled in his pockets for his cell phone, Shego thought about what had been reported as the contents of the suicide note.

"I can't live without her anymore," it had read.

He couldn't... He didn't... He wouldn't...mean me?

Shego felt like she might throw up, and as Esteban offered her the phone, she moved past him and all but fell onto one of the bar stools, suddenly feeling like her feet would fail her. She began dialing a long-memorized number, then realized as the phone rang that she didn't know if the number would be the same after so long, but that thought was broken by Esteban stepping into her vision.

"Are you calling 911? What is wrong?" he asked, his dark eyes wide and worried as he studied her. But then, the phone connected.

"Hello?" the familiar voice said through the line.

Shego suddenly realized she had only ever called the girl 'Princess' or 'Pumpkin' or 'Kimmie,' and wasn't sure how to address the now young woman and for a brief time, ally.

"Kim..." she finally settled on, the name leaving her throat hoarsely.

"Yes? Who is...?" A familiar gasp sounded through the phone. "Shego?"

"Drakken..." was her one-word answer as suddenly tears began filling her eyes. "Drakken's note."

"Where have you been!? Where are you? We looked for you for over a year!"

"Did that note... Was it real? What I saw on TV, did he really...try to kill himself?” she asked, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand before digging her fingers tightly into her side as her hands started to shake. When had she started crying?

“Yes... He did.”

Shego’s throat tightened. “Have you...seen him, or talked to him?”

“Yeah, right after it happened, but...he doesn’t want to see anyone. He’s angry and embarrassed that it didn’t work. Shego—”

“Did he, I mean...how is he? Is he okay? How did he survive?”

“His vines. Their own sense of self-preservation must have kicked in, and they grabbed onto the building partway down. He’s in the hospital.”

Shego realized tears were streaming down her cheeks, and her hands were shaking so much it was hard to hold the phone. She closed it hard as she let her hands fall to the bar, and then she leaned forward again.

“Raquel! Mi lucecita, what is wrong?”

Shego took a breath and gathered her strength to push away, even as her vision swam. She left the phone on the bar, knowing exactly what would happen, and then reached across the smooth wooden surface for a bottle of tequila. She ignored Esteban's words as she numbly made her way to her room, climbing the stairs and pushing through the door to stumble against the bed, the bottle of alcohol falling from her grasp. She spun around, and after shoving the door closed she fell back to sit on her narrow, uncomfortable mattress as she fumbled with the lid of the tequila bottle.

She looked around at her walls, with their newspaper clippings and magazine cutouts of photos and articles about Drakken's successes. Tears fell from her eyes anew as she brought the bottle to her lips and soon felt her throat burn nearly as badly as her eyes. And the words of Drakken's note played through her mind repeatedly, her every thought and excuse for the past three years dissolving into torment.

-------------------------

The next morning a pulsing, booming sound caused her to wake, and as she sat up hurriedly with hands alight, the vision of red, purple, yellow, and black that swam before her eyes brought back to mind what she had drunk the bottle of tequila to forget. She let her glow die as she fell back on the bed and hid her face from the light with a pillow.

“Shego!” the astonished voice of Kim Possible resonated against her skull. She regretted the hangover, but she couldn’t have handled her thoughts the night before. Tequila had been the only choice.

“Are you all right? You don’t look so good,” the side-kick’s voice followed just as loud with concern.

“You’ve lost so much weight!” Kim continued.

“Yeah, what about it?” Shego said into the pillow, even her own voice painful to her ears.

“Is this where you’ve been all these years?”

“What have you been doing?”

Shego grit her teeth and ignored the questions of her former enemies-turned-allies after Drakken saved the world, finally moving the pillow to narrow her eyes at them.

“Will you take me to see Drakken, or not?” she asked bluntly.

The brows of both young adults rose, and they looked at each other.

“That’s the only reason I let you find me. Cell phone trace, right?” Shego said, grimacing against the throbbing in her head as she rolled over and got her feet on the floor.

“Yeah... It only took Wade—”

“Will you take me to see Drakken?”

“Yeah... I guess, sure. We can do that.”

“Good. Wait downstairs, I need to shower,” she said.

The two young heroes didn’t move, and Shego realized they were studying her walls with the photos and newspaper clippings of Drakken. But she was under too much stress already to worry about what two college kids thought of her. As she painfully stood, her eyes lighted upon a figure hovering in the doorway. Esteban was hanging back in the shadows, watching the interplay nervously.

Kim and Ron were still staring at the walls, and Shego first beckoned her employer into the room before frowning and sighing dramatically at the other two. They both looked at her.

“Haven’t you already read a lot of this stuff? Hurry up, I want to get to Japan before tomorrow.”

The pair gave her another once-over before glancing at each other and finally slipping through the door, giving an even more confused look at the curly-haired Latino who had been welcomed in. They closed the door behind the darker-skinned man as he looked curiously at the adorned walls which Shego had called home for three years. Finally, he sighed.

“You are going to him, then? This man, from the news report.”

Shego nodded, grateful for her boss’s softer tone.

“Yes,” she said.

“He is the reason you came here?”

She nodded again, sitting on the bed as her head pounded.

“...Why did you run from him?”

Shego’s brows knit together, but after all that Esteban had done for her over the years, she supposed it wouldn’t matter to give away a little more. Especially since she would never be seeing him again.

“I thought I was doing what was best for him,” she said with a shrug.

“But surely, if you were in love...? Was there some problem?”

Shego looked up, her brow twisting further in confusion.

“What... You think...he was in love with me too?” Her head was reeling again. That couldn’t have been what his note was about...could it? He had never showed any sign of having those types of feelings for her...

‘You never showed any of your feelings to him.’

She grimaced at that thought. And she wondered with a sickening feeling...had it really been necessary? All she’d done for three years was wallow in her own misery and loneliness and think of nothing but him. What if she had just...taken the risk?

“If the note on the news was real, then it would seem so,” Esteban had replied as she’d been thinking. She looked up again.

“Then I... I... I have to go.”

She stood again to get some fresh clothes and then paused, looking back at the suddenly long face of her boss.

“I hope you can find him. He will recover under your smile.”

Impulsively, Shego closed the distance between them and threw her arms around her boss’s neck. She felt his large palms hesitantly rest on her back.

“Thank you, Esteban...”

“Goodbye, Raquel.”

---------------------------

Shego raked her fingers through the ends of her hair for what must have been the tenth time just walking down the hall. As she found the correct door number she pushed her hair back over her shoulder, and then tugged down the simple green blouse and black jacket she wore. Possible had been right before... The garments weren’t fitting her as they should, but that was a concern for another day. She took a shallow breath and with a trembling hand, pushed the door inward.

The hospital room was dim and silent but for the beeping of monitors. On the bed, a familiar blue face lay atop a pillow, bandaged, like much of the rest of his body that could be seen. One forearm and foot were in casts, and his other arm was bandaged with the slightest of bloodstains showing through, like the one on the side of his face. She held her breath as she stepped in silently, as if walking into a dream. But he heard her.

The corners of his lips turned down before his eyes opened to slits, but then widened slightly upon seeing her. She hesitated only a moment before continuing her slow approach. She could see now the one side of his face was swollen, and his lower lip was split and bruised. She tried not to picture him falling from the top of a skyscraper, smashing against its sides on the way down only to be inexplicably rescued by his own mutation. Instead she fixated on his eyes that were bleary, shocked, and disbelieving.

“Shego?” he croaked out.

She fought the tears that tried to come to her eyes. “Yes. I... I’m here,” she managed, her throat tight.

He seemed to be studying her as she sat down on the edge of his bed, afraid her legs wouldn’t hold her and also needing to be nearer. The thought that he could have...that he very nearly died, and she didn’t even know...

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Her lips parted as she stared at his expression that was quickly becoming anxious, despite the haze in his eyes she was sure was in part due to the heavy painkillers that were doubtless coming through his IV line.

“What...?” she breathed.

“Whatever...I did...to make you leave...” Drakken said quietly, each word coming out labored through his dry throat. “I’m sorry. Please...forgive me.”

Shego didn’t bother trying to stop her tears anymore. She took a slow breath to try to calm the ache in her chest as she tore her eyes from his, instead looking at his hand lying on the bed, his knuckles bruised and scraped. She hesitated, but then gently held his hand in both of hers. His skin was clammy and cold, and she noted for the first time the too-slow beeping of the heart monitor.

“You...you didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, looking back at him. His confused and now fearful expression was a blur through her tears. “I did.”

“...What?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she repeated with more strength, recalling the words of his note. “I did. It was just me. I...I’m so sorry, Dr. D.”

Her voice rose on the last as her throat tightened, and she closed her eyes tightly as hot tears slid down her cheeks. She tried to keep her cries quiet, and some time later her attention was drawn back by his hand shifting in hers. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. He looked a bit more focused, and a familiar, analytical expression had joined the caution and confusion on his face.

“I don’t understand,” he finally said. His fingers curled around hers and held on firmly.

Her heart thudded against her ribs, and she let her gaze fall to her lap. She had already broken her promise to herself, to never see him again... But clearly, that had been a mistake from the beginning. If she was honest...then at least she would know, there was nothing else she could have done. And yet, the most important words she could say to him still died on her lips.

“I didn’t want to hold you back,” she said, staring down at their joined hands. She was careful not to hold too tight for his bruised knuckles. A long moment of silence passed before he spoke again.

“What...? But... Shego...”

“I didn’t want to be part of...this world,” she said, lifting one hand briefly to gesture weakly at the opulence of the hospital room. Not exactly what she meant, but she hoped the point would get across. “But I know you, Dr. D.... You...you wouldn’t have taken any of the jobs, without me. I just...wanted you to be happy. And I didn’t want any of this...”

There was another silence, broken only by her sniffling as she gradually brought her tears under control. She heard Drakken take a long breath in through his nose and then release it just as slowly.

“Thank you for visiting me...”

Shego turned abruptly, her tears stilling with a silent gasp. Drakken’s eyes were on their joined hands, and he looked sad.

“You look...” he began, glancing up at her briefly before his gaze fell again. “Hm. Where will— That is...”

He trailed off, glancing away toward the curtained window in the room with a slight grimace. Shego tried to follow his train of thought.

“I don’t...have to leave right away,” she ventured carefully. He looked back at her, his expression guarded. “We could...catch up for a while? If...if you...”

She broke off as tears threatened her eyes anew. Who was she kidding? His note had been clear...

‘I can’t live without her anymore.’

“If you...don’t mind having me around, I could stay...longer.” She set her hand back atop his, minding the scrapes on his knuckles. The pressure of his fingers against her palm hadn’t diminished.

Drakken’s swollen lips parted, his dark eyes seeming to glitter even brighter for the mottled bruising on his face. And then, a shadow came over his features.

“No, that’s...that’s all right. You can go back to...your life.”

Shego held her breath. She thought about telling him she knew about the note, but...what if that only made things worse? Then he would be embarrassed, and he had already...apparently given up on living. What would that new revelation do to him?

His words were also unknowingly meaningless, she realized, as because for the past three years she...had had no life. Only worrying and pining over him, waiting for the day he married so she would know he didn’t need her anymore, and then and only then could she come out of hiding. But she had left El Salvador behind fully when she had come to Japan. The bar was already out of her mind. All she wanted, and what she really needed, was...

She took a breath. “Drakken...”

When she met his eyes they were sad. She looked down again.

“I...I also left because...because I’m in love with you. But I knew...you didn’t feel the same. I knew you could find someone to replace me and...really fulfill you, and it seemed like...the best way I could give you everything you wanted...was to be out of the picture.”

She sniffled, bringing one hand up to wipe her eyes and nose before straightening up from the tense hunch she’d found herself in and then leaning back on her hand, the other still firmly gripping his. She didn’t want to hear his confirmation, but she needed to. Knowing that her feelings weren’t reciprocated would mean it was all worth it. Even though it didn’t explain his years of solitude...or the note. She didn’t want it to be about her. She couldn’t be the reason that he’d nearly—

“Everything I wanted? Shego...”

She cast a cautious eye on him, and he looked a mixture of confused, hurt, but somehow resolved. His hand suddenly left hers, and her throat constricted with the sudden loss. And then she was gasping in worry as Drakken started trying to push himself up.

“All I’ve ever wanted—” He stopped short with a hiss of pain, shaking as he paused halfway up.

“Dr. D....”

“...Is you.”

Her breath caught, and they stared at each other eye to eye. Drakken’s expression was steady but fearful, and her own she knew reflected utter shock. She was so startled she hadn’t even realized she’d spoken a response until he answered her.

“The note was about me...”

Drakken let out a soft, almost exasperated puff of air and lightly shook his head.

“What did I do to...make you think I didn’t love you?”

Shego blinked rapidly as tears filled her eyes.

“Oh, Dr. D.!”

Her arms were flung around him as her lips gently pressed against his, minding the cut and swelling. His least injured arm raised to wrap around her, but without the support his frame shook and he began to fall. Shego guided him down, never breaking the intimate contact. Her tears fell on his face as she cried through the kiss, but his hand pressing into her back strengthened her. She let her fingers move through his hair, ever so softly touching the swollen parts of his scalp as their lips barely moved. She was careful to keep her full weight off of him, but the warmth of their chests together was like a salve, beginning to mend the wounds in her heart.

When they finally parted and she opened her eyes, she found his just as wet.

“Shego...” he whispered hoarsely, and she heard a catch in his throat. “Don’t leave me.”

She held him tighter. “Don’t let me go.”

--------------------------

One month later, Shego was grinning happily as she pressed her face further into Drakken’s neck where they sat together on the sofa in his new apartment. She sighed contently as she snuggled closer into his left side, her arms around his neck and her legs folded and halfway over his lap.

“Shego...” Drakken whispered, “this isn’t exactly...it’s not...”

“Mmmh, let everyone see how much I love you...” she murmured, turning to face the camera placed in front of them, the magazine photographer looking at them quizzically as she offered something between a smile and smirk. The interviewer stood close by, equally ill at ease, but Shego didn’t care.

She positioned her hand on Drakken’s shoulder so the diamond of her engagement ring sparkled in the light. Her heart warmed when his healed left hand reached up to hold hers, and she laced the fingers of her right hand through his, setting her left on top again to show off the ring. She tilted her chin up toward him and was rewarded with his radiant smile.

“I love you...” she said softly, “and I want to spend the rest of my life telling you.”

“I love you, Shego,” he breathed.

Their lips met in a gentle, ardent kiss. Beyond them, after a long minute, the camera flashed.

[polandspringz]

Request: something about Glory & Asmo vibing . maybe painting each others nails . ill pay u

I know you already got to read this when I finished it, but here you go!!!

Title: Always at the Right Place, at the Right Time

Summary:

Whenever Poland invited everyone to the Human World, there was never any actual obligation to hang out with her. At least not for Glory. Any adventure were moments reserved for them, the Avatar of Lust and the Avatar of Vainglory.

(This is set in my series involving my MC, “Designing in the Devildom”. AO3 Link will be posted in the notes)

Grass. The smell of flowery perfume, too strong and too tacky. It burned the throat and lungs like sugary cotton candy, but they were both immune to the taste by now. A picnic blanket spread over the land, flowers were crushed beneath their weight. They didn’t care. The sun shone down on a chilly spring day in the human realm. Glory held out his hand, and Asmo held it gently in his own as he applied nail polish across it carefully.

“Don’t mess up,” Glory huffed, “I have a date tonight.”

“Another commitment? And here I thought you cleared your whole day for me!”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Why, darling, others do that for me,” Glory rolled his eyes at that, but it was all in good fun, no actual malice, “But, I won’t mess up. Although knocking your beauty down a peg would make me the prettiest in the three realms, I wouldn’t risk my beautician skills being slanders because I decided to be petty.”

“Good, cause if you mess up my nails I will douse you in acetone.”

The little brush moved across the nails, leaving gooey, light blue color behind. It was like liquid lipstick, squishy and shiny but as it dried it would harden into a perfect coating. The clear bottle of top coat rolled around on the picnic blanket as Asmo shifted, knocking into Glory’s knee. The color would be preserved, but protected underneath a thin layer of plastic and gloss.

“You’ve been different lately,” Glory blurted out. Asmo glanced up with surprise.

“What do you mean? Have I been even more beautiful?”

“No, and that’s just it. What you said earlier,” Glory rolled his free hand in the air as they gestured for something, “I’m used to you saying you’re the prettiest- which is false- but normally you don’t leave room for debate.”

Asmo finished the pinky finger, and then blew a soft puff of air over the whole hand before setting it back down on Glory’s thigh.

Glory didn’t like feelings. The only mushy stuff he cared about was makeup or textured fabrics of designer clothes that he knew would look great and help him show others up. But there was a distant look clouding Asmo’s eyes. He was smiling but his mind was elsewhere. He just sat there for a moment, leaning on his knees after he closed up the blue polish and set it down beside them.

Glory couldn’t help but notice the ugly pact mark that decorated Asmo’s skin, the bright pink ring that tattooed his skin, staining his neck, just visible underneath the collar. It seemed to pulsate when Glory stared at it, taunting him.

It disgusted him. He would die before he ever made a pact with any human.

Glory let out a scoff and sat back, tapping Asmo forcefully on the shoulder to knock him back to reality, “You’ll give yourself wrinkles if you keep a face like that. If you turn any uglier than you already are, I won’t hang around you anymore.”

Asmo let out a hearty laugh, his whole body radiant in the sunlight. He reached for the clear polish and shook the bottle as he let himself settle down. When he looked towards Glory’s other hand to inspect the nails, his eyes were brighter again, but also all too knowing. 

Glory never needed to say much, Asmo was the best at picking up on the emotions people liked to hide. He could see right through him, but it was still nice of Glory to try and say something to make Asmo feel better. It was all the more genuine when said in his own Glory-way.

**

The balloons bumped into one another and the strings tangled as they were pulled through the wind and down the street. Two sets of shoes clattered and scraped against the sidewalk as the two ran along the tiny shops of downtown.

Asmo spun around, the balloons swinging with him as Glory rushed passed, taking the other demon's hand as they continued running. They hadn’t stolen anything and weren’t being chased, but there was something different about the human world. The air and the way everything was so colorful and bright as light bounced off everything, from puddles to windows of glass. The way life and the scents of the city were carried on the breeze. It was like Devildom but better.

The two of them stepped off the curb to cross the street, Glory’s heel clicking on the edge of the curb as he skipped forward.

He wished he could stay here forever.

**

Flashes of a camera interrupted the darkness of the night. The human realm’s night sky was much darker than Devildom’s artificial one, turning completely black even though it was only nine p.m. Glory lowered the polaroid that Poland had let her borrow, and Asmo scampered to take the developing photo from her. Slowly, the image of Asmo holding pink and blue cotton candy formed itself against the golden ferris wheel lights that spun against the black sky.

It was summer now. Poland had invited them all back to her world to visit a fair. Apparently this was a yearly thing where she used to live. It was a little crowded, a little too noisy and full of snot-nosed kids, but there were rides and there was food and strange human world entertainment. Most of it didn’t appeal to Glory, besides using the place as a backdrop for new Devilgram photos, but Asmo was coming with the rest of the brothers, and Diavolo was giving them a few extra days before they had to go back, and Glory would do anything to get out of the boring Devildom.

Poland must have noticed Glory’s disgust at the farm animals, stalls, and dirt paths when they first entered the fairgrounds, because Poland handed the camera over to her almost immediately. She had packed tons of film, handed a bunch of boxes full of starry, rainbow bordered packs that Glory could use to her heart’s content.

Half of the photos were already used up, littering the inside of the mini backpack Poland had given over to her. Random photos of people screaming on rides, humans running around or sitting under the tents. Seeing kids eat popcorn off the ground was gross, but taking pics as they tripped and ate shit and spilled popcorn all over the ground was fascinating. Before their group had split up, Lucifer had watched as Glory photographed the people in the historical tent, feeling the need to supervise the only demon not hiding her horns with magic in case she caused a ruckus.

“Based on your grades, I never suspected you would be interested in history,” he said smugly.

Glory focused on making sure the photo was tucked safely away and developing properly before shooting Lucifer a glare, flipping him off for good measure. The gasps of the historic actors had Lucifer flailing and shoving her hand down, dragging her away before she could cause anymore problems.

“Luce, wait!” Poland yelled, “You’re going to miss out on the old fashioned ice cream.”

Glory debated shouting out Lucifer’s full name, seeing if that would illicit anymore startled gasps from the old men and women sitting with bonnets by the display. That would make for a good picture too.

“Glory, let me take one of you now!” Asmo said, his fingers crawling around the camera as he tried to gently pry it out of her hands, “Go stand in front of that ride over there! The Himalaya!”

He pointed to a ride that was spinning at an unbelievably fast speed (for humans anyway), but it was flashy and colorful, which meant it would look wonderful blurred together, and there were so many humans waiting in the line, which would mean more people to preserve in her collection (she would have to invest in a scrapbook). She started to skip over, her boots digging into the clay, orange soil as the ride’s music was interrupted by a loud siren-like horn.

“Kolia, you stay back there with Belial!” Asmo waved to the other two members of their group. Kolia was the one suffering the most from the atmosphere of the fair. She only tagged along on the trip because it meant she got to see Poland again, but somehow she had gotten separated and nearly lost until she ran into Belial and the others outside a funnel cake stand.

Asmo hurried to take the photos as fast as the camera would allow, Glory striking a few poses and being tempted to take back the camera to snap the faces of the screaming riders behind her, but Asmo signaled the camera needed to be refilled with film and Glory had the bag so…

They rejoined the rest of their group.

“Where do you want to go now?” Asmo asked. Belial pointed towards the tents where all the vendors were in the middle of the fair grounds.

“I want to buy something. I saw shark tooth jewelry earlier.”

“Oh, and sand art!” Asmo chimed in.

“Do we have enough money? How much did Lucifer give us?” Kolia reached for her wallet.

“Hold on, hold on,” Glory mumbled as she finished snapping the new box of film inside the camera, “There! Good to go! Oh, wait a second-”

She leaned in and reached her arm around all of them, holding the camera up to snap what would become a very blurry selfie of them all.

“Alright, let's go!”

**

It was fall now. Glory sat on a bench surrounded by an expanse of orange colored leaves in the middle of a park. It was almost too picturesque, too cliche. Asmo had run off to get some warm drinks from the coffee shop down the street. It was getting cold again, the human realm had always felt so much colder than Devildom, but maybe that was just because of where Poland lived?

It was their last visit here before winter set in. Poland already had pulled a lot of strings to get the others to tag along on visits throughout the year, especially since she almost never seemed to invite Diavolo along. Glory wasn’t exactly sure what was up with that, maybe the Prince of Hell was just too busy, or maybe there was some sort of feud going on between them. It didn’t matter much to him though.

“I’m back!” Asmo said, walking up with the two, tall cups in either hand, “Sorry it took so long. They don’t have the drink you like here, so I had to improvise to get something similar.”

“That’s fine,” Glory said, plucking the cup from Asmo’s hand with just their finger and thumb on either side of it, “Probably would have tasted gross either way. Human food is bad.”

“Hey, you may have suffered through Solomon’s cooking over at Purgatory Hall, but that doesn’t mean everything from the human realm is bad,” Asmo chided, “Poland isn’t a great cook either, but there are tons of places all over this world with cute desserts and stuff.”

“A shame we won’t get to see them,” Glory sighed, popping the lid open and taking a sip.

Asmo stared at him for a moment before starting to get up, “I actually saw a shop selling some macaroons earlier! Let me go back and get them-”

Glory grabbed his sleeve to stop him.

“Stay,” they mumbled, avoiding eye contact, “We can go get some later.”

Asmo remained frozen for a moment, then slowly sat back down on the bench, “Alright then.”

They fell into an uncomfortable silence. They watched birds in the empty park peck at the ground, but it was far too hard and cold for their beaks to find anything beneath it. The carpet of leaves was rustled by the wind, a few brown leaves breaking off to dance in a violent circle, their dried and dead edges scratching against the concrete and making a grating rhythm to the ears.

“It’s only going to be until the spring, you know that, right?” Asmo asked, “It’s not a long time for a demon.”

“It’s a long time for me because I can’t come and go as I please.”

“You… like the human world now, don’t you? I thought with how you always were ignoring Poland, you didn’t like coming here.”

“Don’t get the wrong idea, I only come here to hang with you. Poland is just… well she’s convenient, she’s just my ticket for a new hangout spot. I just didn’t expect to find other humans so interesting.”

“They are interesting, aren’t they?” Asmo laughed behind his hand, “They’re so funny to tempt-”

“-to trip up-”

“-to trick-”

“-to observe-”

“-and to love,” Asmo finished, a deep sigh escaping him as he leaned back against the bench, watching his breath rise with the steam of the drink, mixing together in the air. Glory watched him confused, and although Asmo was wearing a thick scarf, Glory’s eyes shot to where he knew that marking was over his neck.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Glory crossed his arms, setting the drink down on the bench, “But I’m just annoyed because I don’t like being restricted. I don’t care what’s going on with Diavolo and your brothers and Poland and everyone else. It’s stupid of them to restrain us from coming to this realm whenever we want.”

“You could always walk through the eight layers if you really wanted to get here-”

“You know I would never do that to myself. Horrible idea.”

“It’s just a thought,” Asmo shut his eyes, “I might traverse it if Lucifer lets me. I’m sure I won’t be the only one rushing back up here. Poland has a fashion show in January. I might come see it.”

Glory didn’t respond. They just sat and stared at the city skyline rising just behind the trees at the edge of the park. Eventually, Asmo leaned his head on Glory’s shoulder, his hands unknotting Glory’s posture as he pulled Glory’s hands in his. He cracked open his eyes just a bit as he brushed his fingers along the old polish, humming when he noticed the chips.

“You should let me do your nails again. Or give you a makeover. We’ll have so much time in the winter to hang out. Nothing will change.”

Glory sighed again, and shut his eyes and let his head bonk against the top of Asmo’s gently.

He was right afterall. Nothing would change.

**

It was winter. Snow was not really a Devildom “thing” but Glory was certain they would be seeing some in the coming days because Diavolo had a knack for using whatever magic he could harness to simulate as much of the human world as he could. Glory had holed themselves up in the bedroom at Purgatory Hall, sitting on the window seat as they watched the moon outside.

Simeon and Solomon were in the courtyard, doing something with Luke. While teasing the young angel did give Glory some entertainment, they really weren’t in the mood right now. They had gone over to the House of Lamentation to hang with Asmo, but realized they had forgotten he had skipped off to the Human World for Poland’s fashion show. Glory had been invited, but had declined because nothing was being made easy through the use of seals, and they had no idea why Asmo would ever want to torture himself taking the footpath there.

So, now they were alone.

Meaning things had changed.

Belial and Kolia were probably downstairs, Kolia holed up in her room no doubt surrounded by books, ugh. But there was no one to compete with or talk aimlessly with. They supposed they could just go outside and steal Simeon aside, the angel was always too polite to decline even if he wasn’t really interested in the things being said, but that sort of genuine disinterest they would sense from him would just continue to make things boring.

They missed Asmo. He hadn’t even painted their nails before they left.

Whatever, they could do it themselves. If only they could find the energy to move.

Glory knew the human world would be unreasonably cold and snowy and blustery right now, and that was no place for demons, but it would be better than the mundane, boring days full of RAD classes that would continue to stretch on for the rest of their eternity. They still didn’t really understand the point of the academy, just knew that if they didn’t attend it Diavolo would probably rear his true nature and execute them for treason or something.

Glory sighed again, something they had been doing a lot since the seasonal depression set in, and got up finally to move back over to their bed. If they were leaving their room that meant getting dressed up, and although they were the Avatar of Vainglory they weren’t feeling the need to fulfill their sin right now. Instead, they flopped over on their bed, face first as they let themselves sink into the blankets, their mind aimlessly drifting through thoughts but never clinging to one.

At some point, they fell asleep.

And were abruptly woken when Asmo crashed into their bedroom from a portal breaking through time and space.

“Asmo, what the fuck?” Glory sat up, rubbing their eyes.

The demon stood up from the floor and brushed himself off, reaching a hand out to Glory immediately as he kept the portal open behind him.

“Hi! Guess I got the teleporting right! Anyway, you need to come with me to the human world, right now.”

“What? I’m not dressed, why?”

“Poland needs another model for her fashion show! It starts in an hour and one of the models broke their ankle. Come on, we have to go!”

Asmo was pulling Glory out of bed, tugging them towards the portal.

“What? Hold on, is this another seal?” They pointed at the portal, “When did you get this?”

“Poland has one for emergencies. Come on!”

Glory was tossed through the portal with Asmo, popping out on the other side. They opened their eyes as the remnants of the seal disintegrated in Asmo’s hand. He shook off the dust before pushing open the door to a backstage area. There were models milling about, people running around holding bundles of fabric and palettes of makeup. Peeking out from behind the curtain, Glory could see flowers covering the walls, real flowers pasted from floor to ceiling all the way through the maze that had been set up for the runway.

Poland rushed by, nearly missing them as she talked into a headset and carried a dress she was still beading. Asmo caught her arm and froze her in her tracks.

“Wonderful! You’re here!” Poland’s face lit up as she shoved the dress to one of the (Glory presumed) assistants, “Let’s get your makeup done right away!”

They both started to guide Glory to one of the vanities, but they dug their heels in and turned around, “Wait, wait, wait. I’m all in for this but, Asmo, how are we getting back to Devildom if the seal broke? I’m not walking all the way back. Do you even know the entrance to how to get back?”

“I don’t have another seal,” Poland said, “That was for emergencies. Guess this just means you’ll have to stay with me until the others can come pick you up?”

“It will take me a few days to get back home on foot,” Asmo laughed, “If you’re insistent about waiting for another portal home, then that would probably give you a good week or so before Diavolo and Lucifer come to drag you back.”

Glory mulled it over for a moment, really not liking the idea of being stuck living with Poland for a few days, but then Poland flagged down someone who was walking by with the rolling rack, picking a hanger off it to show.

“This is what you’ll be wearing, by the way!”

Glory stared in awe as Poland continued, twisting the fabric of the outfit and pulling more accessories off the top of the rack, “...and so you’ll be the beginning and the end of the show, wearing this at the start and then coming back out at the end to transform it by tugging these pieces off. Oh, and then you’ll be the one to walk out with me at the very end because that’s when the designer normally does their walk- uh, is this all okay?”

“Perfect,” Glory grinned, sitting down in the chair, “Asmo, you need to redo my nails while I start the makeup. You owe me after all.”

“Of course!” He chimed, shooing the cosmetologist away as he found a bottle of polish from inside the makeup kit.

“Um, are you really going to be able to do their nails while they’re moving their hands so much?” Poland asked doubtfully.

“Just leave us, love. You interrupting will be the more likely cause of a disaster if anything.”

“Just trust us,” Asmo said, softening the blow.

Poland didn’t mind. She just shrugged and walked off, wheeling the rack away as she went to manage the rest of the show’s set-up. Glory ignored the stares from the models next to them, as there was no way they were hiding their horns tonight. Grabbing a beauty blender and a bottle of foundation, they smiled wickedly in the mirror at their and Asmo’s reflections.

“We’ve got this.”

“We’ve got this.”

And they set to work.

[un-romancible-npc]

Chance

Chapter One: Dancing in Silence

3631 words

Original Idea:

::You are here::Part 2::Ao3::

The cacophony of night that most coastal cities had was entirely lost on the quiet, lonely streets of Gotham. It wasn't a silent city by any means, but its citizens had learned a long time ago that nighttime was not their domain, and as fantastic as some of those night-liers were, Gotham knew it was best to leave the night to its own, and let the bats do their hunting.

Most of Gotham knew that, anyway.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, President of the class in the French foreign exchange program, fashion genius, and proud owner of at least 3 brain cells, was lying wide awake at 2:30am in a bed in a luxury hotel room at the heart of Gotham City, desperately trying to figure out if cereal was a soup and feeling remarkably as though she had been lied to her whole life.

The hotel room, which she was finding she disliked more and more the longer her brain went without sleep, was a mess of creams and browns and golds when the lights were on, but in the dark, with only the faint street light filtering through the balcony doors' curtains, everything was the same vague gradient of grey to black. She much preferred it like that.

Marinette lay on her back, sheets tangled at the corners of her bed after hours of tossing and turning, her arms and legs splayed out in a manner not unlike a starfish that had been asked for a high-five, and her black hair flopped out of the two now virtually-useless buns perched atop her head, loose strands sticking uncomfortably to her wide-eyed face.

She had half a mind to wake up her roommate, Chloe Bourgeois, who had been asleep for the last hour and a half, and ask her opinion on the matter. Even considering what 'the wasp', as Alya had taken to calling her, was going through physically at the moment, and that she'd put Sabrina in a choke-hold for almost a full minute last time she was disturbed--with precise details of how she would personally destroy anyone who dared bother her nap again--and only let go after she'd given Sabrina and everyone who saw the incident one (1) more chance to live.

It probably wasn't worth it.

Unfortunately, Marinette was about to die from over-internalization, and she was genuinely considering putting her life on the line for answers.

Mari shifted to her side and stared at the gap in the curtains, one of the narrow slices of light that leaked through them leaving a stripe of color down her face and abdomen, illuminating her plain black sports-bra and green basketball shorts she'd stolen from Adrien after accidentally ruining her own fuzzy Pj bottoms mere hours before. If anyone else had been awake, they would have also seen the light glinting off the peculiar, vein-like markings that spiraled around her torso, their lines intertwining with themselves and leading up to two small marks just above her shoulder blades.

Marinette openly scowled at the double doors to the hotel balcony.

'I'm going to go insane.'

With a sigh as quiet as she could manage, Mari sat up, climbed to the foot of her bed, rifled under her dresser for her suitcase, and fished out her specially altered red-and-black hoodie, the matching pair of black leggings with red spots, and a pair of sneakers. Sliding into them in almost total silence--she doesn't count the muttered French that may or may not have been cursing when she stubbed her pinkie toe on the end table--she opened the glass doors at the end of the room and slid outside for some fresh air.

Stepping out onto the small balcony, Mari inhaled deeply and stared at the city. The lights were loud, even though the noises weren't, but the colors outside felt better, and she found she could think more clearly without the suffocating blackness of the room surrounding her, glaring at her with thinly veiled chartreuse and belly-hair-brown.

Mari looked up, the waning crescent moon sending a crooked smile her way as she did so, and she smiled right back.

The sky looked different in America.

She turned, mouth twisting into a knot, and stared at the 'french' doors that led back to her room, having half a mind to just go back inside… but her designer's heart craved a better view, and the stifling heat of her bed was exactly the kind of thing that would keep her awake longer.

Nodding resolutely, Marinette marched toward the doors, and leapt up precisely as high as she needed, fingers gripping the ledge above it with a strength that belied her small stature. Hooking her foot over the top of the door frame, she hauled herself up and began scaling the building, using every ledge and window she could. Her seemingly delicate hands were covered in calluses after years of sewing accidents and other... extracurricular activities, so the rough concrete and brick was nothing she hadn't dealt with before.

Chloe liked to 'joke' that she probably didn't have fingerprints anymore, and could definitely get away with murder. Marinette snorted, smiling to herself as she pulled herself over another window ledge, her brain temporarily distracted from cereal soup by that particular conversation that had kept the three of them awake far past curfew.

Chloe scoffed from her perch on the largest bed, tossing her head to flip her white-blonde braid over her shoulder as she dipped the little brush back into the fingernail polish container.

"Oh course I'm not talking about actually murdering anyone, Bumble-Bug." She said, delicately coating her pinky fingernail in pearlescent midnight-blue polish. "All I'm saying is that if, hypothetically of course, somebody, nobody in particular, at say… the school, happened to end up dead in a ditch somewhere," she dipped the brush again. "And there happened to not be any fingerprints, the police couldn't pin a thing on you. Ask Sabrina, she's doing an internship at her Daddy's place."

Shaking her head, and biting her lip to keep herself from laughing, Mari turned her attention back to applying her own rose-gold polish.

A few specks of Gotham's finest hotel were unintentionally scraped off the border of a window and tumbled to the pavement below. Mari grunted, adjusting her grip on a gargoyle-like figure near the edge of the roof to better secure herself so she could find another foothold, unintentionally scraping her palms in the process. She grinned.

"Y'know Ladynette," said Adrien, his mop of sunshine-blond hair coming into view as he sat up from where he had been lounging on the floor, still waving his hands in an attempt to dry the sloppy black and green nail polish he had insisted he do himself. 'We just have to take it off before I go home! Father won't know if we don’t tell him!' "Bee's got a point. I'm not saying I would appear as Chat to give you the best alibi in history, but I'm also not saying I wouldn't." He tapped the side of his nose, effectively smearing the nail polish on his index finger all over the inside of his eyelid. "You're the star student, after all."

Marinette couldn't take anymore, and collapsing into a giggle-fit, accidentally spilling the rose-gold nail polish all over her fuzzy pajama pants in the process. It took far too long to calm down, but when she did, Chloe and Adrien had already found replacement pants for her.

Mari returned to the present as she, with a final shove, found herself on the roof of the very prestigious hotel her class was staying at during their 3 month exchange program. Her entire class.

'No one in particular my foot.'

Mari stood near the opposite edge of the roof from where she'd climbed up, letting the cool, damp midnight breeze play with her hair, as she breathed a deep sigh.

Cereal was soup.

…

Kwamiis, she'd been hanging out with Adrien too much.

Her thoughts stilled for a moment, though her mind continued at breakneck speed as memories of her loved ones filled her up to bursting. She closed her eyes and let the images chase themselves in circles for a little, drinking in the feeling of the night and the faint smell of coastal rain that sank into her bones.

Gotham was officially her second favorite city.

The mood was briefly soured as her brain, still dutifully chugging along as the speed of light now that she had nothing else to think about, began turning to darker subjects. Mari sighed, her whole body sagged in exhaustion and her fingers twisting around the ponytail that was wrapped around her wrist as said darker thoughts began playing on repeat in her head, the face of at least two thirds of her misery laughing at her misery, though she wasn't on the roof to laugh at her.

‘Lila.’

Marinette's fiddling with the ponytail ceased as she began bouncing her leg, her hands moving up to readjust her buns in a vague hope of making them slightly less disastrous.

‘Oh boy, Lila…’

Liar and life-ruiner extraordinaire.

The reason her only friends were suddenly transferred to new classes even though she herself had tried a dozen times over to do just the same.

Mari sighed, tugging at a nasty tangle the ponytail-holder had somehow created with her bun.

At least she still had Alix and Kim. As much as she loved Chloe and Adrien, Adrien couldn’t do anything to rock the boat without his father forcing him to quit public school, and since Chloe’s father had finally been replaced as Mayor, she didn’t have nearly as much power as she used to. Besides, the class was against her to begin with, and it had only gotten worse as Lila began to spin her web.

Alix and Kim on the other hand, while they couldn't convince many people of Lila's schemes, they could punch people in the face. Mari actually cried when they told her they both got suspended for a week after doing just that the day they found out Lila was nothing but a liar, (Alix did the punching and Kim cheered her on) and while she insisted they never do that again, she brought them 'thank you' goodies every day for six months after that.

Her thoughts cheered up significantly after a few forceful topic-changes and as they continued to wander, a tune bumbled its way to the surface and, having nothing better to do at the moment, she began humming it. What the song itself was called she didn't remember, maybe it never existed to begin with, but the melody was quiet enough to be soothing, and it was calming, if a little haunting.

A few measures into her strange melody, Mari found herself half dancing-half fidgeting to the beat of her imaginary song, incomprehensible words playing through her mind as the night dragged on and Gotham continued on in semi-silence.

Mari was midway through one of the ballet moves Chloe had dragged her to classes to learn, when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Mari cut her movement off mid-flow and stood stock still.

Someone was on the roof with her.

Years of constantly living life on the edge of both a mental breakdown and a life-or-death battle was the only thing keeping her from blindly round-house-kicking whoever it was in the face and running off into the night. Fight and flight instincts could fudge a delicate situation, and whoever was up here could simply be getting some air, like her.

Maybe she should have let her instincts run the show.

She barely had time to register she was still humming--being forced to communicate in the most dire of circumstances had made the moments where she couldn’t shut herself up more often than she’d care to admit--when an arm that felt as though it was made of steel and iron was pinning her left arm to her back as a knee, which she assumed belonged to the owner of the steel and iron arm, slammed into the middle of her back and began forcing her to the ground.

In the split second before her face made contact with the gravel on the rooftop, Mari had one single thought racing through her head.

She knew this hold.

She’d done it a thousand times in the back alleys of Paris on odd nights.

This was the hold that would break your arm if you struggled.

The hold designed to keep the victim still and in pain.

The hold to intimidate and contain.

The hold made for criminals.

Hah.

No.

Faster than even she expected, Mari twisted her body completely around and successfully out of his hold, eyes narrowed in determination.

C R A C K

‘Well.’ Mari rolled away from her attacker, clutching her broken arm to her chest. ‘That’s going to be hard to explain to Mlle. Bustier in the morning.’ Mari recovered quickly--She'd felt more pain than a broken arm and won a fight before: and a non-functioning arm wasn't going to stop her now.--and regained her footing just in time to see a young man, probably about her age, in a truly shocking outfit with the most bizarre color coordination she had ever seen-- Okay not the most bizarre. She'd fought Akuma after all, and some of those deserved to be taken down on their fashion sense alone--pull out a katana from seemingly nowhere.

‘Wait…’ She thought as she dodged the katana swipe and dropped to the ground in attempt to swipe his feet out from underneath him. ‘Him and his traffic-light costume look familia--’

“Robin!”

Marinette froze as none other than Batman--The Actual Honest To Goodness Batman--swung onto the roof just behind her attacker.

Mari would’ve fangirled if she wasn’t so high on caution juice.

“Father,” apparently-Robin said, not breaking eye-contact with her, the blade of his katana less than an inch from her throat now that she wasn’t fighting back.

‘Wait… wait, isn’t that called adrenaline?’

“Robin, why were you attacking a civilian.”

‘Oh glory Batman is speaking to Robin, he’s speaking with Robin and they’re talking right in front of me--’ Mari blinked. ‘Civilian?’

“Tch,” Robin’s lip curled slightly, though otherwise he didn’t move. ‘Oh. Right. I’m not wearing my mask. “Father this isn’t another civilian.”

‘I mean he’s right, but I’m right here--’

“She’s clearly a villain.”

‘Okay WHAT?!’

“And what makes you say that?” Mari’s mouth moved in her own defense before she’d formed a proper argument.

‘FrICK.’

Silence.

Silence punctuated by Batman’s stare.

Which of them he was looking at was a mystery, but he punctuated the lack of noise nevertheless.

‘I’m sorry Batman: One of us is going to die tonight and it’s probably going to be me if your son doesn’t say something soon.’

“Tch.” Robin’s head rolled slightly to the side; an exaggerated eye-roll if she’d ever seen one. “You’re up here, alone, ballet dancing, and humming a stupid creepy tune.” Mari blinked at him incredulously. “It’s highly unusual in Gotham for anyone to preform their own... musical theater routine, at 4 in the morning mind you, unless they’re extremely unbalanced and have a bomb planted sixty feet below the mayor’s office.” 

“You…” She took a deep breath in, moving her broken arm as carefully--and casually--as she could. “You tried to knock me unconscious, fight me, and potentially take me to a police station for questioning... because I was awake at 4am.” Well, if Batman’s stare wasn’t burning holes into Robin’s head before, it sure was now. Robin, to his credit, relaxed his defensive stance slightly, even as a scowl darker than any she’d expect on his face dragged whatever hope she had of reasoning down with his mood.

“Robin?”

Batman had said 9 words since his first appearance, and somehow Mari knew he was on her side.

She and her motor-mouth could learn from him.

Robin snorted softly and stuck his nose in the air, though any fool could see it was over a sense of wounded pride rather than genuine haughtiness. Or, anyone who’d been friends with Chloe for more than a week, anyway. He finally relaxed his fighting stance, however, and stood with his back ram-rod straight and his arms crossed over his chest.

“It isn’t my fault she was being stupid.”

“And it isn’t my fault you couldn’t just use basic human communication to inquire as to my true intentions.” Being starstruck is overrated.

“If you were really a villain you’d take advantage of that.” He snapped, glaring at her.

“If I were really a villain,” Mari retorted with a scoff. “I wouldn’t be stupid enough to dance out in the open in celebration of my latest unfinished scheme.” Mari crossed her arms. ‘Owowowowow no that’s bad don’t move broken arm that hurts--’ “Especially not when it’s nighttime and the Batman Squad are out and about. Besides, you can be physically prepared for an attack while still brokering a deal. It’s how being a superhero is supposed to work, isn’t it? Get the villain talking so you can assess the situation and the threat without potentially risking any civilians in the way?” ‘I just back-talked Robin. And by extension, Batman.’

Mari could feel her blush burning her skin to ash.

‘Batman please take your son and leave so I can die in peace I’m--’

“You’re very correct, Miss.”

‘S a y  f r e a k i n g  w h a t n o w.’

Mari whipped around, her loose hair smacking her in the eyes as she did so, to see The Actual Freaking Nightwing standing on one of the rooftop gargoyles and grinning at her. 

Her heart had stopped functioning a long time ago, and it appeared her lungs were now bent on doing the same.

“Being a superhero is about more than just punching crime in the face. Though I gotta admit that’s the fun part.”

“Until crime punches ya’ back,” the ghost of Marinette’s soul replied through her somehow still-living body. “Then you just have a black eye, injustice, and a whole lotta paperwork.” Nightwing burst out laughing, and slid off his gargoyle to walk over and give her a clap on the back.

“It’s official,” he said, his grin wide and friendly. “You’re my second-favorite civilian.” Mari’s soul transcended to the next dimension. “What’s your name, kid?”

“I-I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, monsieur.” ‘I’m Freaking Nightwing’s Second Favorite Civilian. How in the ever-loving hECC, did I end up here? How has my life come to this? Is this where I die?’

“A pleasure to meet you Marinette,” Nightwing said with yet another grin, as he stuck out his hand to shake. “I’m sure you already know who we are, but based off your French accent you probably aren’t from ‘round here: I’m Nightwing.” He gestured to Batman’s looming figure. “The silent Night is Batman, and--”

“I suppose Traffic-Light boy is Robin, then?”

‘MOUTH WHAT THE HECK YOU CAN’T OPERATE WITHOUT EXPLICIT PERMISSION FROM THE BRAIN WHAT ARE YOU DOING GOING ROGUE LIKE THAT YOU’RE OFFICIALLY ON PROBATION--’

“No-- wait I'm sorry I didn’t mean it like that I swear--”

It was too late.

Robin had frozen in place, his face a mixture of shock and an emotion she couldn’t place.

Nightwing was doubled over with laughter.

Batman’s face seemed to always be an emotionless, impenetrable mask in the short time she’d known him, but Mari could’ve sworn she saw the faintest of smiles. It was gone in a moment, but it was there.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng had made Batman, actual honest to goodness Batman, smile.

Well, if she wasn’t dead before, she was now.

“We’re sorry for the trouble Miss Dupain-Cheng,” said Batman when it seemed like Nightwing wasn’t going to recover anytime soon. “I hope Robin didn’t hurt you too badly.” Marinette welcomed the distraction, though she was still redder than her hoodie. She waved her non-broken arm dismissively.

“He didn’t, Monsieur Batman. Je--err, I, am perfectly fine. I’m sorry to have disturbed your patrol.” Batman gave her the tiniest of nods. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think I'll get back to my room. It’s very late after all.”

“Enjoy your evening, Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

“You too, mon--err, Sir.” Marinette started walking toward the side of the building to climb back down, when a door in the center of the roof caught her attention.

Oh.

She paused halfway to the entrance, gnawing at her lip.

Mari turned around sharply.

“Robin?” The three caped crusaders paused. The boy in question gave her a sidelong glance, shooting her a quizzical look that may or may not have been laced with faint distaste. Not that she blamed him. “I’m sorry for any trouble I may have caused.”

He stared at her for a moment, his face expressionless for a moment.

“I’m sorry too. I hope I didn’t hurt your arm too badly.” he nodded to her curtly. “Have a good night, miss.”

And then they were gone.

A wave of exhaustion hit her like a truck, and she had the sudden realization she was supposed to be asleep at 4:30 in the morning.

She turned and opened the rooftop door, thanking anything and everything that the door was unlocked, and closed it softly behind her, leaning heavily against it and biting back her groan of pain.

Hiding a broken arm was painful.

Mari stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, absorbing everything that had happened.

Her face split into a joyous beam.

Adrien and Chloe were going to go berserk tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BONUS:

Nightwing: “Hey, B-man. Bat-guy. Bro-man. Bat-dad. Can we please keep her? Please?”

Batman: “Not that it’s up to me, but we can’t. At the very least not unless she can fight.”

Robin: “Father, she broke her arm getting out of my hold and didn’t bat an eye at it.”

Nightwing: “The bean did what now.”

(also have a sketch i did. i’m sorry it’s not great but i just... i lov her okay?)

::You are here::Part 2::Ao3::

[crimsonrae]

A Matter of Degrees

Chapter Two

Summary:  Dr. Emil Hamilton had been fascinated by Superman, but not afraid. Five years after his death Clark finds out why.

Clark Kent x OC

Rated: Mature

A/N: I’m not a big Superman fan, but after watching Snyder’s films and Henry, I wanted to explore a more broken/healing Clark. Slowish build on this. Let me know if you want to be tagged. :) - Clark in the next chapter: promise.

Metropolis

Lois sighed as she finished the last paragraph of her report on the new Senate nominee. As far as reports go, this one was pretty bland and even she could admit that it lacked a certain...spark. Her usual wit was failing her and she only could thank God that the article wasn't needed for another two days, it would give her time to scratch and polish.

Scratch and polish.

She snorted quietly to herself and shook her head.

She couldn't remember the last time she had been ahead on her articles, had time to do more than a quick polish before handing it over to an associate editor for a good scratching and polishing. Addie was probably going to die of shock when she noticed how error-free all of her work had become... Or maybe not.

The overly pregnant editor had been taking on lighter loads of work as she moved closer to her maternity leave and had bullied almost every reporter in the building into proofreading their own work three times before submitting it to lessen her stress. Lois had been one of the last to conform to Addie's authoritarian rule – not because she didn't want to lighten the woman's load, but because she usually didn't have the time to be that editorial thorough. Perry was good at keeping her busy, knowing that she could handle more than one assignment if she didn't have a big story brewing. She would have been amazed that she had the time now, but she had noticed he had been handing her less and less.

Her stomach twisted sourly at the thought.

Lois had to fight to not look in the direction of Perry's office or toward the desk of a certain tall undercover superhero. Not that it mattered... he wouldn't be there. She hadn't missed the concerned glances from the staff and the undercurrent of worry that touched Perry's tone whenever they talked lately. The office knew something was up with her and Clark... they just weren't sure what.

A good portion of the office had been at his funeral and they had seen firsthand how close she was to the Kent family. To say that everyone had been shocked by Clark's return from the dead was something of an understatement. It had been an open casket funeral after all. Surprisingly, it had been Perry that had weaved the lie that allowed Clark to come back after Lois had revealed who Clark really was to him. His star reporter had fallen afoul of the criminal element while investigating another award-winning story. The destruction from Doomsday had created a golden opportunity for the Feds to fake Clark's death until those responsible for the threat against him were apprehended.

Somehow, Clark had produced a story from that packet of bullshit and that seemed to quiet most of the reporters at the Planet. The rest still asking questions were the ones that dealt with the typical page six news. They wanted the gossip.

How long had she and Clark been an item?

Had she been aware that he had faked his death?

She had been so distraught at the funeral, surely, she hadn't known – she must be furious.

Is that why they barely seemed to be talking? The tension could be cut with a knife.

If anything, those particular encounters had solidified Lois's empathy for people who had a distaste for reporters. She had told Victoria to mind her own damn business and to go chase after Bruce Wayne more times than she could count at this point. Still, she would rather have the gossip columnist's attention on her than on Clark.

Clark.

Again, she had to fight from glancing towards his empty desk. She had to fight the sharp pang that filled her chest at the thought of him. She wasn't sure if it was better or worse that he was away on assignment.

It had taken Lois months to admit that the man she had fallen in love with was gone... and she didn't mean dead. The relief, the joy that had overwhelmed her when the Justice League had brought Clark back had made her blind to the pain that encompassed him. She should have realized that coming back to life would be a traumatic experience, that there would be repercussions... She had just been so happy to have his gentle gaze and shy smile again... and he was Superman. She didn't think that he would be affected by everything so drastically. It was a stupid assumption. Clark wasn't impervious to the world, to emotion, if anything he felt it more than any ten people combined.

It took her two months to notice the nightmares. He stopped sleeping all together after she confronted him about it. She wished she hadn't said anything, because she was rather sure that the lack of sleep was what spurned the flashes of temper he had become prone to.

Nothing big.

Nothing violent.

At least not overtly.

It was little things, like his cell phone needed to be replaced on an almost constant basis. She had found it crushed to bits on more than one occasion. It was reports of restrained criminals packaged nicely for the police having to be carted to the hospital because their binds had been tethered a little too tight. There was a car thief that had limited use of the fingers in his right hand from a lack of blood circulation.

And she couldn't get him to talk about it. Whatever he was thinking, whatever he was feeling – she was sure it had to do with whatever he had experienced while he had been dead. But he had shut her out. Clark refused to talk to her. At first, he had smiled and reassured her that everything was fine that he was still sorting himself out. Lois couldn't pinpoint the exact moment she stopped believing that smile, but she had watched it become more brittle the more she pushed. He withdrew from her. And their relationship became something she couldn't recognize as a relationship.

She felt like a lighthouse on a dark foggy night, but the ship she was guiding was heading for the rocks anyway.

It took her ten months before she gave up and returned her engagement ring.

Eleven before he finished moving out of her apartment.

They were now on the official one-year anniversary of his return and he wasn't even here.

Lois swallowed against the sudden constriction of her throat. She wished Clark was here if only to reassure herself that he was at the very least physically okay, even if he wasn't mentally – emotionally. She missed him and it hurt.

It had hurt for a while now.

She sighed and sent her article to Addie. She would be taking the rest of the day off.

     ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

Russia

It was ridiculously cold.

Rebecca clenched and unclenched her fists in her pocket in an unconscious attempt to keep her fingers from going numb. Even while sporting a fur-lined coat and gloves that would put a clown's to shame the icy chill of Moscow's winter still penetrated enough to lick at her skin. She usually didn't mind the cold, her body ran a little warmer than most peoples, but today that chill seemed to have a bite. She wondered distantly if she was getting sick... She hadn't thought she could anymore.

"You were just supposed to get pictures."

The reprimand was clear, the Slavic intonation making its owner's annoyance all the more apparent. Rebecca didn't move her eyes from the group of children receiving medical care not one-hundred feet from her, "Anatoli, tell me what would have happened if I had just taken pictures?"

Chocolate eyes softened as they studied the young woman before him. She had tucked her dark hair into a loose braid, her grey scarf musing the strands lose. She should be wearing a hat, he thought gruffly, but didn't say as such – she looked tired. He tried to remember if he had ever seen her smile, "You would not be leaving Moscow."

"And those children?"

Anatoli sighed, "Would be someplace else."

Her eyes blue, almost violet in color flashed as she looked balefully at him, "Starved, scared, orphaned. How much would they fetch to the right buyers, Anatoli? Someplace else... you don't need to sugar coat things with me. I know what that someplace else would be for these children. Still could be."

"They will be safe, my friend. I will find them good homes, I promise." He briefly spared the small group a glance, "You were reckless."

"No one saw." Rebecca whispered and pulled her gaze away when a small boy began to watch her curiously.

Anatoli snorted, "There was lightening. It was so bright and it made the truck stop. The mean man wouldn't move after it flashed... Don't tell me no one saw. I have ten little somethings that saw and in today's world such accounts would not be taken as a child's imagination."

Rebecca sighed, not wanting to admit he was right. She used to long for the day where people who were different, special, could be acknowledged, and with the appearance and resurrection of Superman, the arrival of the Flash, and Aquaman, Batman, Wonder Woman said people seemed to be coming out of the woodwork. In many places, even accepted for their differences, but there were more still where such uniqueness was seen as dangerous or worse valuable.

In the last half-decade, Rebecca wasn't sure how many suspicious labs she had stumbled upon.

Let's see what makes the freaks tick, she thought bitterly. Her fingers flexing as if she was about to discover she was in one such lab.

This time it wasn't a lab she stumbled upon, but it was something dark enough to make her stomach twist in knots. She still wasn't fully certain what had made her detour from the main city to the more industrialized sections. She felt like she had been called – like some sort of invisible tether had pulled her to the warehouse that had held the kids. It didn't take much to recognize the Bratva guard outside...they crawled all over the city. It took even less to deduce the children's purpose once she realized they resided inside. There had been no signs of the usual strangeness that seemed to attract her into these situations. No odd flares of light or smoke, no hum of different in the air. Just a feeling to come.

No. These children were normal, if not traumatized, and she hadn't been about to watch them be sold to whatever sexual sadist that lurked out there.

So yes, she had acted. She didn't regret it.

Except for the pair of icy eyes that watched her from the back of an ambulance. The little towheaded boy that hadn't taken his eyes off of her since being pulled from the truck. Rebecca had noticed he said less than the others – more observant, shy, wary. She was rather sure that little boy was the reason she had found them all. He certainly hadn't been surprised by her sudden appearance.

She pursed her lips as she studied him. There were no indications that he was other like her... nothing obvious anyway. She just had a feeling. A feeling not too dissimilar to what had led her here.

She held in a sigh, "Have the boy go to Marvin."

Anatoli raised a brow and followed her gaze to the ambulance, "He's like us?"

She nodded, despite the fact that she wasn't fully sure, but her gut rarely led her wrong. She cut her violet gaze back to the bear of a man next to her. A small stirring of guilt pulled at her and she smiled sadly, "I didn't mean to make trouble for you, Anatoli."

Moscow was Anatoli's home and he needed anonymity to help people, people who were different, find safe havens. She feared she had just shown a spotlight on his presence.

The older man snorted, an amused twinkle entered his chocolate eyes, "Agh, you come to visit, I know to expect some excitement. You lasted longer than I thought. I owe Marvin money now."

Rebecca rolled her eyes, "You two need a hobby."

"Who has time for hobbies?" Anatoli grunted before nudging her towards his car. He had packed her belongings in the back and made sure to have new travel papers for her. She needed to leave, now, before the Bratva came to inquire about her, "Take the car. Don't call me until your safe."

Reluctantly, she nodded. She hated to leave, she felt like she had left things half done, but she understood the immediacy of her departure. She climbed slowly behind the wheel and found the keys still in the ignition. Anatoli cast her a brief wave and her lips twitched in a subdued smile.

He was in her rearview in moments and her phone was out and on speaker seconds after that. She listened to the dull ringing for a dull moment before the connection came thru, "Hamilton, this you?"

"Hey, Sporty." She intoned quietly, "My trip to Russian's been cut short and it looks like I'll be stateside for a bit... was wondering if you had any work for me?"

There was a brief pause and the clinking of glass trickled over the line. She must have interrupted his lunch, "I don't have anything for you in Gotham. It's actually quiet here for once, but hold on. I'm having lunch with a friend from another paper, let me ask him if he's got anything."

Things went quiet before strains of muffled voices filtered to her. She raised a brow as she realized that Sporty had merely put his hand over the receiver. She wondered if he knew how to work the mute button. Abruptly sound rushed back as a smooth baritone greeted her ears, "Ms. Hamilton?"

"Speaking."

"This is Perry White from the Daily Planet. Sporty tells me that you're a writer – a good one."

Rebecca felt her brow arch higher, "Is there a question in there, Mr. White?"

"Yeah, why haven't I heard of you?"

"I publish under a pseudonym." She replied blandly, "Rachel Wisen."

There was a long silence and she could almost hear the dots connecting in this man's mind, "The travel blogger?"

She snorted and felt shades of her father hover around her. How many times had she heard him say those same words, "Yes, Mr. White... the travel blogger."

"Huh...Look, I don't have any reporting positions open, but one of my associate editors is about to go on maternity leave – I was actually thinking of having my travel editor take over her workload. I could use you to take over his position. It'd be a temporary arrangement."

"Daily Planet is in Metropolis, right?" Rebecca asked after a moment. She didn't know why. She knew exactly where the Planet was and that it was a city, she had no desire to visit. Shades of her father indeed.

"That's right."

Yet, she found herself saying, "Temporary sounds perfect, Mr. White. I can be there at the end of the week."

"Good. I'll get your contact info from Sporty and we can finalize the details when I get back to my office. Have a good day, Ms. Hamilton."

"You too -"

He hung up before she had a chance to finish. Rebecca sighed, remembering vaguely that Sporty was much the same when in business mode. She chalked it up to a newspaper reporter quirk but was thankful for the brevity. It was going to be an interesting few months.

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