#I WAS GIVEN ZERO INSTRUCTION AND ZERO WARNING

[nexus-nebulae]

also i just need to be fucking angry about the American healthcare system because holy shit i should not be forced to fucking GOOGLE how to take care of myself after a SURGICAL PROCEDURE

[florencemtrash]

The Artificer: Part IV - Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Angst, soft Azriel, fluff, some suggestiveness

✨Based on this ask ✨

Masterlist of Masterlists

With those words you blew apart the walls he kept so fortified around his heart. Walls you’d steadily been hammering away at like metal until he’d been transformed into a weapon that would only ever sing to your touch.

Author's Note: This is the last chapter, everyone! Thank you for reading! ✨

You hadn’t specified which home you wanted to return to, and given the state of destruction your apartment had been left in during your kidnapping, you were grateful when Azriel and Cassian winnowed past the Day Court to the House of Wind. 

Azriel was your home anyways. More than any physical dwelling or stretch of land.

The water was gloriously warm, sliding over your skin with a soothing touch that had you groaning in pleasure. Madja smiled kindly, pouring more of the jug of medicine into the water and swirling it around with a dark, knobby hand. Her magic poured out as well, lacing the water so that the burning slashes on your back cooled and the flesh began the slow process of knitting itself back together. 

“Thank you,” You murmured gratefully, sinking into the bath until only your head remained unsubmerged. 

The House of Wind breathed quietly in the early hours of the morning when even the streets of Velaris had emptied and its citizens burrowed beneath their blankets to sleep. 

Azriel had been reluctant to leave you alone, practically glued to your side the whole flight back to the city, but finally relented when Madja commented on the absolute state he was in and shooed him off to bathe. 

You sat in the tub quietly, trying not to fall asleep as Madja scrubbed your skin, tainting the bathwater copper until whatever magic in the house whisked it away, turning the water crystal clear again. 

“Azriel. You should be asleep.” 

You stirred at the sound of Madja’s voice and the feeling of shadows sniffing at your neck. You sat up, turning in the tub and noting the damp curl of Azriel’s hair. He was clean and smelled like himself again - woodsy and crisp like the Illyrian mountains at night.

He said nothing, eyes zeroing in on the marks of your back. Madja had stitched them up as best she could, warning you that they would scar. You felt a dangerous tremor in the air coming off him. 

Madja must have noticed too because she dipped her head, promising to be back in the morning to check on your progress, and instructing Az to bind your back before you slept.

He nodded stiffly, moving forward to kneel at your side while Madja made her exit.

“Hey.” You murmured, leaning close enough to brush your lips against his forehead. You winced, feeling the strain in your back and Azriel immediately had his hands at your shoulders, gently guiding you to lean back into a comfortable position. 

He wordlessly filled his hands with a sweet smelling shampoo, running his fingers through your hair and massaging your scalp. He was being so painfully gentle, cupping water in his hands to rinse out the lather. You stretched your neck back to help him, unable to help the tears that streamed down your face. It felt like ages since someone had given you such a kind, gentle touch.

Azriel stiffened, withdrawing his hands and leaving you cold and wanting.

“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” Azriel asked, his golden brown skin paling. 

“No.” You shook your head, “No I liked it.” You gazed at him, eyes wide and begging, “Please do it again.” 

Azriel let out a breath, returning his hands to your hair as you closed your eyes and sank into his touch. He was grateful you were closing your eyes. It left his eyes free to wander over your body, tracing the dip of your breasts as they sank beneath the milky, fragrant water, rising and falling slowly as you finally found yourself able to rest. 

He traced the wound that made its way up your back and onto your shoulder with a feather light touch, hating the expanse of ruined flesh that he knew was hidden further down. He kept glancing down at your hands, swollen and aching even as they healed. It would take a month before your hands and back would heal enough to go back to work.

Azriel swallowed, wiping away at his eyes angrily. This shouldn’t have happened. He should’ve been there to protect you. He should’ve-

“Azriel.” You whispered. Your eyes were open and centered on the Shadowsinger. You reached up, gently wiping away his tears with soapy hands that smelled of rosemary and orange. “It wasn’t your fault,” You murmured, “I’m not angry at you and I’m not afraid of you. I could never be afraid of you.” 

It wasn’t your fault. I’m not angry at you and I’m not afraid of you. I could never be afraid of you.

With those words you blew apart the walls he kept so fortified around his heart. Walls you’d steadily been hammering away at like metal until he’d been transformed into a weapon that would only ever sing to your touch. 

He curled into you, ignoring the rush of water that soaked his shirt as he buried his face in the curve of your neck and quietly wept. 

When he finally stilled and the water had turned salty and cool, he gently lifted you out of the tub, drying your hair and your skin with a reverent touch. He then bound your hands and back in ointment and gauze. 

“Stay.” You commanded after he had slipped you under the covers of the bed - his bed - and pulled away. You held onto a fistful of his damp shirt, tugging at it with a frown like it personally offended you.

Azriel obeyed, peeling the hated garment off him and throwing it somewhere in the room. He climbed into bed beside you, letting out a groan of relief when you immediately wrapped your arms around him and buried your fingers in his hair, pulling him close for a kiss. 

“Thank you for coming for me.” You murmured, your eyes drifting closed. You couldn’t fight off sleep any longer.

“I will always come for you, Y/n.” Azriel promised. “Always.” 

He couldn’t be sure you heard him or that you would remember this in the morning, but you had a soft smile on your face when Azriel tucked you under his wing and pressed a kiss to your temple.

You can thank me later by convincing your mate not to slaughter me.

Eris Vanserra’s words rattled around in your mind as you sat at the breakfast table, sandwiched between Azriel and a bronze-skinned female with the most striking features you’d ever seen. 

Emerie. You reminded yourself. 

There had been a great number of introductions the past two weeks as everyone clamoured to meet the female that had stolen Azriel’s heart like a bandit in the night.

Azriel was a private male through and through, and you had the sense that if the circumstances were different, he would have wanted to keep you to himself for a while longer. In between bites of honey-soaked bread dusted with cinnamon and roasted pistachios, Azriel slyly reached down and grabbed your chair, sliding it close to him and wrapping an arm around your waist until you were practically sharing his seat.

Emerie stared at him strangely, but he remained frigid and silent. 

“Territorial Illyrian babies.” Emerie muttered with a roll of her rich brown eyes. 

Mor leaned back, peeking around Emerie’s wings and catching the blush in your cheeks as you rearranged the silverware and plates. 

Her shoulders shook with laughter, cherry red lips splitting into a wide smile. She squeezed Emerie’s thigh beneath the table, leaning forward to give her a chaste kiss on the lips. 

Forgive him, Em. He’s being an idiot. 

I just don’t see why he won’t tell her they’re mates. I can understand him being protective against Cassian and Rhysand, but me? Emerie told Mor with a grumble, taking a sip of the mimosa Mor loved so dearly and twisting her nose in distaste. This is disgusting.

You’ll grow used to it. Mor responded with a coquettish wink that had Emerie’s core tightening. 

After breakfast and a day spent in the city you found yourself alone in your room - or rather Azriel’s room - once again mulling over Eris’s words.

Your mate. Your mate. Your mate.

You finished tying the bow in your hair, admiring the lush blue satin and thinking of the Shadowsinger who’d gifted it to you just hours earlier, coyly suggesting you wear it to dinner tonight before disappearing to take care of his own Spymaster business.

You smoothed the hand-painted bodice of your cobalt blue dress. Diaphanous silks spilled out from your waist, melting into darker hues where the dress stopped at your ankles. It had been decades since you’d worn such finery, but unlike the dresses you’d been forced to wear for Dawn Court functions, this one you’d chosen for yourself.

You hoped Azriel wouldn’t mind you stealing his colors in such dramatic fashion, even if he had gifted you the ribbon without seeing the rest of your planned outfit. 

You frowned at your reflection, pale plum lips turning down. 

Rhysand and Azriel had been highly insistent on you staying in the Night Court until the end of next month. For Rhysand it was because he wanted to repay you for the swords you’d crafted for him and his brothers - you’d safely hidden them away in your workshop before the Autumn Court males had torn through the place. For Azriel it was because he wanted you to heal in lavish comfort - which Rhysand was more than willing to fund - and because he couldn’t stand the thought of being separated from you ever again. 

But with every pair of trousers, shirts, shoes, and elegant dresses that started to fill your half of Azriel’s wardrobe, you began to wonder - if you were truly Azriel’s mate, why hadn’t he said anything yet? Why hadn’t you felt anything yet?

Everyone else certainly seemed to be under the impression that you’d be staying. That they just needed to wait for your permission before fully absorbing you into their wonderful family. 

Mor had clung to your arm on shopping trips, charming you with her personality and pointing out places in the city and around the River House where you might set up a workshop. Rhysand had already set up an account for you at the city banks, and the last time you’d checked, he’d thrown in such a large sum that your mother would faint if she ever saw the balance books. You’d even gotten roped into joining a book club with Emerie, Gwyn, and Nesta.

Had Eris only been lying about you two being mates? Or maybe Azriel wanted you, but in a different way… 

While you continued contemplating this, Azriel slipped into the room in his usual preternaturally silent way, freezing immediately when he saw you standing in front of the mirror. 

Your dress… He swallowed. Gods you were breathtaking. The bodice laced in the front, velvet blue cords snaking down fabric hand-painted with swirls of dark ink that spilled down your skirts and seemed to collect in a pool along the hem. Your arms were still free to move and you’d decided to forgo slippers for your new favorite pair of boots. The supple leather was molded perfectly to your feet and had, as of yet, been spared the mark of hard labor. 

And the ribbon… gods the ribbon. It hung down your back and over your shoulder like a curl of shadow. 

You were breathtaking. No more or less breathtaking than the day he’d first met you, just in a different way.

So why did you look displeased?

You wiped the expression from your face when you felt Azriel’s presence in the room, turning around slowly with a proud, but shy smile on your face.

“What do you think?” You asked as he slid across the room with silent footsteps. His eyes traced over you, pausing on the bodice laces and the ribbon, like he had half a mind to tug both until they unraveled. “Not my usual garb, I know.”

“I like it.” He insisted, voice as soft and silky as the shadows that wound around your waist and pulled you close to him. He replaced the shadows with his hands, hands moving to your back where they rubbed calming circles. “You’re wearing blue.” He said rather dumbly, still in awe.

He wanted to say, You’re wearing my color. But that was overly possessive of him to think you’d worn the dress for him. He didn’t have a monopoly on all things blue. And yet the fabric matched his siphons so perfectly that his hands disappeared in the folds of your skirts. 

“I am.” 

He stilled, and then carefully asked, “Are you… displeased by it? You didn’t look particularly happy when I came in.” 

You looked down, escaping his gaze, “No! I like the dress. I picked it myself with Feyre and Mor last week. Do you like it?”

“I love it. You’re beautiful, Y/n.”

Ask him now. Just ask him.

Azriel felt your nerves roiling in your stomach through the bond. The bond you still had no idea about. A pang of guilt slivered into his heart. He had wanted to tell you the first night at the House of Wind, when the mating bond had finally snapped in place so powerfully he’d almost gotten down to his knees in front of Madja’s questioning gaze. But then he’d seen your back, and that wave of anger from Icaryon Hill had returned to him ten-fold. Telling you about the mating bond paled in comparison to the need to give you space to heal, to be happy and safe and cared for. So even though it felt like his blood was boiling in his veins and his heart would leap out of his chest, he’d slipped into bed beside you that night and every night afterwards, content to just hold you as close to his chest as possible and get drunk off your intoxicating scent. 

You’d told him you were happy in the Night Court. You’d filled his wardrobe and his heart with more of your things as you traversed Velaris and fell in love with the city. 

“Have I done something wrong?” His voice was quiet, tinged with a child-like guilt that he’d carried around with him ever since he was young. A guilt that made him want to beg you to love him, even though he hadn’t been able to protect you like you should have.

“What?” You looked at him in alarm, “No! No, you’ve done nothing wrong, Az. Nothing.” 

He deflated in your arms, nuzzling into your neck so you felt every sigh breeze against your throat. 

“Why would you ask me that?” 

He gave only the barest shrug of his shoulders. Then he began to kiss your exposed neck, gently tugging aside the thick straps of your dress to kiss your shoulders. You shivered when he reached the new scar tissue, soft lips tracing their pattern like he wanted to smooth the skin there and erase the pain of what had happened. 

His shadows condensed around you both, reflecting the anguish he kept simmering beneath the surface. You wove your fingers through his night-black hair and he relaxed beneath your hands. 

Ask him now. Just ask him.

“Azriel? Why haven’t you said anything about the mating bond yet?” You blurted out before you could lose your courage.

Azriel jolted back like you’d slapped him, pupils blown. 

“You…” He exhaled heavily, “You know?”

“Eris told me. But when you never said anything, I figured he might have been lying about it or that maybe you didn’t want me to know or something-”

“No.” Azriel cut in quickly. He had no idea how Eris had found out about the mating bond when his brothers weren’t even aware, but that was a mystery to be solved another day. “I wanted to tell you. Please know that I wanted to tell you.” 

“So it’s true.” You said breathlessly, feeling your chest clench in anticipation. “We’re mates.” 

Azriel became a solid block of ice, silent and foreboding. You were nervously shifting from foot to foot, pressing your hands tightly against his chest and that made him feel sick to his stomach. Finally he nodded, steeling himself for the worst and praying for the best. 

It took a moment for the words to fully seep into your mind and into your heart. Then your face broke in a grin that put the sun, moon, and stars to shame. 

“We’re mates?!” You shrieked with laughter, leaping into his arms and throwing your arms around his neck. “You bastard! You absolute bastard!” 

Azriel dared to laugh back, melting into you like cream on a summer day. 

Bastard suddenly seemed like quite a pleasant title when it came from your lips. 

He wrapped his strong arms around your waist, spinning you around before he could help himself. 

When you felt the bond for the first time, it wasn’t some thunderous crack in the air or some shifting of the bones of your soul. It was more like twirling around in Azriel’s room with his hands flat against your back until you both stumbled back into the bed, something gentle and solid sliding into place and setting the air abuzz with gripping clarity. Like metal melting and fusing together into something impenetrable. 

You stroked the bond, a rumble of pleasure leaving Azriel’s body. 

Hello there, my love. You said softly.

His eyes became pools of liquid gold. 

Hello, Y/n. 

Your heart fluttered in your chest like an ecstatic bird. The feeling didn’t dissipate as Azriel led you down ethereal arched hallways to the balcony where a small banquet table had been laid out for his family - yours too now. 

You were very aware that your hair was disheveled and that your skirts were crinkled despite the efforts of Azriel’s shadows to make you presentable. You could only hope that the color you’d swiped over your lips wasn’t as smeared as you suspected it was. 

Azriel, on the other hand, looked as flawless as he always did. Not a single hair out of place. He’d somehow even managed to wipe the pale plum lipstick off his mouth and his neck in the time it took to walk downstairs to dinner.

Cassian sputtered on his wine, spitting half of it out on the black lace table.

Gwyn squealed in excitement, blue robes billowing as she shot up from her seat and clapped her hands. 

“I called it! Nesta, you owe me fifty gold.” 

“For fuck’s sake.” Nesta grumbled, a leather bag appearing in her hand which she deftly threw in the priestess’s direction. “You couldn’t have waited another two weeks?” But a smile of approval pulled at the edges of her lips.

Rhys and Feyre leaned into one another as Mor, Emerie, and even Amren stood from their chairs, prepared to offer their congratulations. 

Azriel tightened his hold on your waist, pulling you even closer to his side like he wanted to be absorbed into you. A deep hunger lay barely concealed behind a facade of nonchalance. But he managed to hold that all back when the females approached, but to Cassian he gave a growl of warning.

Cassian gasped, clutching at his chest, “My brother. My own flesh and blood. What is this betrayal?”

“Technically you’re both adopted. No blood relation.” Rhys called out from a safe distance away at the end of the table. He lifted his wine in acknowledgement, grinning brightly at the two of you. Unlike Cassian, he had a slightly better grip on his self-preservation skills.

“Shut the fuck up, Rhys.” Cassian said, rolling his eyes and retreating back to his seat glumly, “Well at least sit down! We’ve been waiting for you both.”

You glanced at Az and he finally smiled, bowing his head to your neck and gently pressing kisses there. You slid forward out of his hands before you could fall prey to more of his tempting touches. 

Soon. You promised, clicking your tongue. He’d been touching you incessantly ever since the bond fell into place. So impatient.

Azriel sent another wave of longing through the bond. He’d waited over five hundred years and then some for you. You didn’t want him to have to wait much longer.

You snatched an empty plate and cutlery from the table before piling it haphazardly with lamb, garlic-roasted potatoes, and a few other mouth-watering offerings before finishing it off with a slice of lavender cake.

Azriel looked all too pleased when you returned to his side. In fact he looked equally, if not more, flustered than you as you gripped the plate with an iron grip. 

Everyone else stared in shock, almost overcome by the way Azriel was nearly bursting apart at the seams. 

He was ravenous and wanting and looked ready to shred your bodice to ribbons. He didn’t know how he’d been able to control himself back in the bedroom. 

“We’ll see you in a couple of weeks.” You said, offering no more explanation. 

A month. Azriel chimed in.

“A month.” You amended and Azriel smiled. “Maybe more…” His smile grew even wider. 

Without another word, Azriel swooped down and gathered you in his arms, leaping off the balcony in a flurry of wings, shadow, and blue skirts. Your laughter rang in his ears all the way to the cabin he kept tucked away in the Illyrian Mountains, a cabin not even his brothers knew about. 

There amongst the snow laden mountaintops, you buried yourself in his arms and in his love. You stripped him down to nothing and he tore your dress to pieces, promising he’d buy you all the blue dresses you could ever want. 

I like when you wear my color. He revealed after you he had you splayed out in a sea of tattered cobalt fabric

You giggled in his ear. At least let me wear the ribbon then. 

Azriel groaned in response, collapsing on top of you and stealing kisses like he needed them to breathe. 

He let you wear the ribbon. 

He let you wear nothing but the ribbon.

Back in Azriel’s room at the River House - your room - Sunseeker hung on the wall, thrumming with a pleased and subtle power. Nightshade called out from next to her, a dark twin of obsidian and blue pearl. Her equal in every way. 

Two blades for two mates.

<- Previous Chapter

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[peachesofteal]

Bc I love angst and making hearts heavy what if WHAT IF THE CALL FROM YOU IS THEM FINALY GOT YOU and you begged and pleaded that you have jo affiliation with soap and ghost anymore. That they wouldn't even answer the phone. They make you call them anyways. AND THEN SIMON ANSWERS and it's all tumbled in your brain. Happiness to hearing him and some birthday song in the background, anger, tjat je answerd. How dare he. Why did he changed that stupid habit now. Fear for ypu and fear of what they might know of bee.

SCREAMS! This is so ✨ ugh. Takes place after this.

18+ / Mature themes, mentions of self harm, torture. / disco baby au

“Simon?” His heart stops in his chest.

It’s you. It’s your voice, ringing through the phone. He glanced towards the kitchen, where Johnny is wiping Bee’s hands with a wet wipe. She’s babbling up at him, face like a cherub, and he smiles back at her, cheeks pushing up with genuine happiness. His heart hurts, just looking at them. His family. His family, missing a piece.

He says your name, not love, not Darling, your government name, and your breath hitches in the background.

Johnny stands straight up, wipe still crushed in his fingers, zeroing in on where he stands in the hall. Gaz has got Bee in his arms now, making funny faces to her pure delight, but Price is watching Simon closely, clued in by both his and Johnny’s sudden shift, their change in body language.

“Simon.” You say his name again, and his eyes narrow. You sound… different. Garbled. Like you’ve been crying, and all he can see is the handwritten notes in Bee’s chart about ‘Mum’ who the doctor worried had no support at home, ‘Mum’ who was given a laundry list of support resources for PPD.

He never thought he’d hear your voice again. Never thought they’d see you again.

“Darling, are you okay?” He asks softly, because right now, nothing else matters. He needs to know if you’re alright.

“I- I uh…” Bee shrieks in the background, screaming with laughter at Gaz and you stop speaking abruptly. “Is… is that?”

“Yeah, we’re having a little party. For her birthday.” Johnny stands at his shoulder.

“Darling?” He mouths, and Simon nods. Affirmative.

“That’s… good. That’s great.” Your voice cracks.

“Are you alright?” He repeats, and the line goes dead silent, like the mic has been muted. Price is now standing at the end of the hall, watching. “Darling? Are you there?”

A fist tightens in your hair, pulling it tight at the roots, and you hiss, trying to move to relieve the pressure but it’s no use. The barrel of the gun digs into your temple, and you try to take a deep breath. The man, the one you dubbed ‘big man’, crouches in front of you, and the one wearing the mask, gives you the ‘keep going’ signal, as you swallow the blood that’s pooled in your mouth.

“I- I’m here.” Simon. I’m here. I’m here. I miss you so, so much. I need you. You want to scream it at him, but the man points at the screen of the computer on the table to your side, the instructions very clear. Say this, don’t say that. You close your eyes. Why did he have to answer the phone?

Bee laughs again, in the background, and your heart breaks. Your baby. Your baby is there. Your baby is safe, with her Dads. Where she belongs.

Where they’re being traced to, right now. On this open phone line.

You have to warn them.

“How is she?” You ask, because you can’t help it, because you so desperately want to know. You want to know everything about her.

You didn’t want your baby to be a stranger, you didn’t want to leave her on the doorstep that day.

You didn’t know what else to do. You couldn’t stop hurting yourself. You needed help.

“She’s amazing.” He answers, and you close your eyes, sob welling in your chest. “Brilliant, beautiful. Like her mum. She’s our whole world.” You can’t fight your tears now, and you smile, even though your lip is split and your cheek is bruised.

“I’m so happy.” You whisper. You don’t fight to keep your voice controlled or even.

“What’s going on?” He asks sharply, and there’s some scuffling in the background.

“This line is being traced.” You blurt, and then there are hands grabbing for you, for the phone. “You’re not safe!” You scream. A fist crashes into the side of your head, and stars blink across your vision. The man who was holding the gun is now holding also holding the phone, and Simon’s voice is crackling across the air via speakerphone.

“Put her back on the phone. Now.” It’s a command, but one they don’t heed.

“Don’t think we will.” Big man says.

“If ye touch a fucking hair on her head…” Johnny shouts, and your heart twists at the sound of his voice. Johnny. Your Johnny. You miss him so much.

“Too late for that, mate. Not sure you’ll even recognize the pieces of her when we mail them.” A whimper slips from your mouth on accident, and you slam your eyes shut when the fingers yank at your hair again.

“I’m sorry!” You yell, because you have to, have to tell them that you’re so sorry. They made you call. You’d never put Bee in danger. Never put them in danger. “I’m so sorry, they made me, they-“ you don’t see the butt of the gun until it’s too late, until it’s whipping towards the side of your head, and then the entire world is fading to black as your body slumps towards the floor.

[miryum]

"Halloween III"

Summary: Detective!Jason Todd x detective!Reader based on Jake and Amy’s relationship

Series Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence (but nothing descriptive), guns and other police stuff

Series Masterlist

"Attention, squad! Today is the most important day in the history of this precinct,” Y/n cried out in the briefing room. She raised a dramatic hand and said in a low voice, “for today is Halloweeeeeen!” She turned to Captain Wayne, pouting. “I thought we were going to say it together.”

“I never agreed to that,” he stated.

Y/n sighed and continued, “as you may know, for the past two years, Captain Wayne and I have engaged in an epic battle of wits. The goal: to determine who must call the other an amazing detective-slash-genius.”

Wayne cut in. “The first year, by sheer, dumb luck, Y/n eked out a feeble victory.”

“And last year, I let the Captain win, because he's old and sad,” Y/n retorted. 

Wayne raised a brow and quickly quipped, “sad because the competition was so dismal.”

“Is this meeting about something?” Steph asked from a chair. Jason sat next to her, his nose red and eyes tired.

“It's about everything.” Y/n said, aghast that her best friend would even ask that. “This year's the tie-breaker, a final heist to decide once and for all the true ruler of the six-six. Halloween Heist Three: The Heistening. Tagline?” She pointed at Captain Wayne excitedly.

“This year we both attempt to steal the same object instead of L/n attempting to steal one from me.”

Y/n huffed and whispered, “I gave you one direction on the tagline! Make it snappy. But yes, we will be attempting to steal the same item... this.” She held up a plastic crown etched with faux jewels.

“The crown will be locked in this briefcase, which in turn will be locked in the interrogation room.” Wayne took the crown from Y/n and placed it in said briefcase. 

Y/n sang quietly, “And so unto the briefcase goes the crown!” 

“This year,” Wayne continued, “we have decided to include the rest of the precinct, and so to be fair, we're holding a draft.”

“Everyone who participates will get the night off,” Y/n said. “Captain?”

Wayne hummed. “With the first pick of the draft, I choose… Richard.”

“Alright, I'll take Steph.” Y/n grinned and high-fived her best friend.

“Damian.”

“I take Cass.” Y/n said.

“Todd is too sick to participate,” as if on cue, Jason sneezed. “In fact, I don’t even know why he's still here…” Wayne muttered. “And Drake is too loyal to L/n.”

“Nuh-uh!” Both Y/n and Tim cried. 

“Have you seen his ass-kissery?” Y/n asked incredulously. ”I can’t trust him! Tim would do anything to win your approval, including pretending to be my friend for the past years only to betray me now even though Wayne only joined the six-six three years ago.”

“L/n, you are majorly overthinking this,” Tim said.

“Maybe, but it's a risk I'm not willing to take. Tim’s out.”

“I agree. So we agree that by midnight, whoever has the crown shall be the ruler of the six-six.” Wayne had a rare smirk on his face.

“So,” Steph strolled into the room and said to Damian, “I see you've been assigned to guard the briefcase too.”

“Correct, Brown. I’ve been given clear instructions to keep a close and clear watch on both the briefcase and you.” He nodded towards the briefcase which sat in the interrogation room. He and Steph currently stood behind the two way mirror.

“Well, I have exciting news!” Steph exclaimed. “I found the perfect guy to set you up with!”

“After zero consideration, I'm happy to say, ’hard pass.’ It's incredibly… sweet that you wish to set me up with someone, but I do not trust your taste in men.”

“I have spectacular taste in men. You would love Jon.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “You are impossible.”

Y/n paced the break room. Jason lay on the couch, a blanket tucked over him and a box of tissues at the ready. Y/n had Doordash open on her phone, popsicles ready to be ordered for his sore throat. Jason lightly groaned and turned over in his sleep and Y/n’s head whipped over to him. She crouched down next to him and brushed her hand over his forehead. He officially had a fever and she placed a cool washcloth over his forehead. She went back to pacing the room and suddenly, a Halloween decoration with motion sensors rang out. The cackle of the fake witch blared throughout the room and Y/n cried, “gah! Scary witch! Scary, so so scary!”

“I am not going to meet my next boyfriend through a Stephanie set-up.” Damian crossed his arms.

“It's go time, Brown.” Y/n whispered into her comm from up in the vents. “Holt and Terry have closed the blinds... release the spiders.”

Stephanie discreetly took a bag of spiders out of her pocket and dumped them onto the floor. “Oh, my god! Damian, look! Spiders!” She let out a scream and jumped back.

Damian squatted down and hummed. “Achaearanea tepidariorum. The common house spider.” He placed a finger on the ground and some spiders crawled over his hand. “How did you fellas get in here?”

Y/n strapped herself into the harness and grinned. “Commence operation, ‘oh crap, wrong vent.’” She opened the vent cover and dropped down, suspended a couple metres from the ground. “Oh crap, wrong vent,” she said. “This was a mistake.”

Damian scoffed. “Nice try, imbeciles. You blew it. Honestly, I expected better from you, L/n. It seems as if all my trainings failed to pay off.” While Damian was distracted, Cass used two plungers to suction the window glass off of the interrogation room door.

Y/n smacked her lips. “Yep, we totally blew it. And all because Brown marked the wrong vent.” Meanwhile, Cass silently somersaulted through the window and to the table the briefcase was handcuffed to.

“It's not my fault!” Steph defended. “I thought it was the right vent.” Cass took out a knife and cut open the briefcase and extracted the crown. She placed it between her teeth and flipped the briefcase over, hiding the hole.

“I'm having trouble even believing you right now.” Y/n shook her head, still hanging in the air. “That is the last time I let Steph mark a vent.”

“I'm normally great at marking vents.” 

Cass jumped back through the window and replaced the glass. She whispered into the comms, “lock picked.”

Y/n was attempting to stall for time. “Never, ever, never, ever, ever, never, ever, ever, never, ever, will I ever, never, ever, ever, ever, ever, never, never, never- I forgive you, and good-bye!” She hoisted herself up at Cass’ command and crawled back through the vents. Steph quickly excused herself and Damian’s eyes flickered to the briefcase. It was still there.

Later, the trio met crowded around Y/n’s desk and she gushed, “wow, you should have seen us, Cass! Steph and I were amazing.”

Cass folded her arms and announced, “I somersaulted through a window, cut the crown out of a briefcase, and replaced everything in under a minute.”

“Yeah, I guess you helped a little.” Y/n stuck her tongue out and returned back to her and Steph. “But our fake argument was super convincing. And all of a sudden, we had to make it longer, and we did!” She took the crown from Cass and stuck it in a filing drawer. ”Anyways, now all we gotta do is guard this drawer until midnight, and the best part is that Wayne has absolutely no idea.”

From inside his office, Wayne towered diabolically over his monitor which showed the video feed and sound from the bullpen, the camera and microphone pointed directly at Y/n’s desk. “She is such a fool,” Captain Wayne said. “Yes, believe I'm the fool. You fool.”

“So we wanted Y/n to take the crown?” Dick asked, peering over his shoulder.

“Sergeant, are you familiar with the Hungarian fencing term, Hosszú Gorcs?”

“You gotta realise my answer is no,” Dick deadpanned.

Wayne explained, “it’s a strategy of letting your opponent win points early on as to give them a sense of overconfidence, thus exposing a much easier target for you later.”

“You think she's overconfident enough?”

From the monitor, Y/n proclaimed, “I'm the smartest woman alive. I'm never gonna die!”

Damian was doing his best to ignore Steph when a knock sounded on the door. Stephanie grinned and said in a high-pitched voice, “oop, I wasn't expecting anyone.” She threw open the door with a flourish. “Come in, Jon.”

A tall, muscular man with dark windswept hair entered the room, smiling brightly. “Hey, Steph. What’s up?”

Steph turned back to Damian. “Dami, this was the boy I was telling you about.”

Damian’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down before he regained his composure and glared at Stephanie. “I know what's happening. This isn't a setup... this is a setup. He’s supposed to distract me from the heist.”

“The heist?” Jon asked, glancing at Steph.

“Shut your cute face,” Damian snapped before scoffing. “I don't buy it. This is an obvious trap and I expected better of you Stephanie. I thought you were one of the smart ones.” He turned back to Jon. “Who are you, really, Jon? If that even is your real name…” He poked Jon in the chest and pushed him towards the door. “Okay. Bye-bye, Jon!”

“Hey, Cass,” Dick shuffled up to her, knowing he was probably about to lose one of his nine lives. “I'm not saying these are from your motorcycle,” He held up a pair of handlebars. “But... I found these outside.”

Cass’ nostrils flared. “You better not have messed with my bike for this heist.” Her voice was laced with venom. ”Let me remind you, Sarge, I'm carrying a weapon and I’m not afraid to stick it to the man.”

“We all have the same weapon, Cain,” Dick deadpanned. However, when Cass pulled out an SRK, he exclaimed, “Geez, Cass! Where'd you get that?” Cass grumbled a swear and stalked off. Relieved he hadn’t died, Dick said into a comm, “Orphan has left the nest.” He swept out of the room.

“And…” Captain Wayne folded his hands together, smirking. “Ding.” On cue, the elevator opened, emitting a ding.

“You wanna see Daddy?” Kori led her daughters into the bullpen. “Come on!” Martha and Tammy were dressed in small replicas of police uniforms for Halloween, clutching pumpkin candy bags in their fists. They had just turned three and looked absolutely adorable with identical pigtails.

“Time for the twin twist,” Wayne said. “And I love a good use of alliteration.” 

“Hey, Y/n.” Kori greeted her friend.

“Hey, guys!” Y/n cooed at her goddaughters.

“We wanted to surprise Dick. Have you seen him?”

“Oh, he just went downstairs for a bit, but he should be back soon,” Y/n said.

Kori nodded and called to her twins, “Martha? Tammy? Do you guys want to take a picture with Auntie Y/n?”

“Yeah!” Martha abandoned poking a sleeping Jason and Tammy looked up from inspecting a pair of handcuffs. Y/n’s eyes narrowed at the question.

“You don't mind, do you?”

“Uh... no, of course not.” Y/n began nodding slowly. “That would be so fun.”

“What if we do it in the briefing room, like you're assigning them a case?” Kori was a perfect actress, delivering her lines with ease.

Y/n hesitated and glanced around for a sign of Damian, Wayne, or Dick. “No, I mean, you know what would be even more fun than that... is if we took a picture right here, and I could have my hand on this cabinet.” She smiled broadly, laughing loudly.

“Okay,” Kori conceded.

“Nailed it,” Y/n congratulated herself quietly.

From outside the window on the precinct deck, Captain Wayne could be seen peeking through, carefully watching Y/n and her filing cabinet.

“Here we go…” Kori held up her camera. Wayne slowly opened the window and rolled through it, crouching on the ground. “Oh, God, it was in video mode... sorry.”

“Take your time,” Y/n reassured her. “I could do this all day. Matter of fact, what if we did one where I had both hands on the cabinet... one on top, and then one on the front?” She took her arms from around the twins and placed them on her cabinet. Wayne crawled to the backside of the cabinet and took out a silenced drill. He began unscrewing the bolts of the backside of the cabinet.

“Uh, yeah? Looks good.” Kori held up her phone again as Wayne stealthily took off the back of the cabinet and extracted the crown from inside. “All right, smile... three, two, one…” The camera snapped just as Wayne stood up and showcased the crown in the picture. “Cheese! Very good.” Kori beamed and gestured to her girls. Wayne somersaulted, akin to Cass, into the break room. ”Great, you guys. Let's find Daddy!”

Y/n snickered and muttered, “daddy.”

As Wayne straightened up, the witch decoration cackled loudly. At the sound, Y/n shot out of her seat and Jason startled from his sleep. “What's going on?” She ran to the break room where Wayne threw the crown into the trash to conceal it. “Aha!” Y/n points an assuring finger towards him. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing…”  Wayne looked around and spotted a can of soda. He picked it up and studied it. “Just enjoying a taste of my favourite beverage, the… soda pop.”

Y/n glared at him. “Really? I have never seen you enjoy soda before.” She clicked her tongue and tilted her chin up. “Why… uh, why don’t you have some now?”

Wayne stared at her, a look of contempt and hatred deep in his gaze. Not breaking eye contact, he took a sip. “It's delicious,” he said, grimacing.

“I don't buy it,” Y/n sneered. “You're making the same face you made when you found a chocolate chip in your trail mix!” She shook her head. “Something's up. I'm patting you down,” she decided. “Though I hope it’s not weird though, work dad. It’s just for the heist.”

“Of course,” Wayne nodded and held out his arms.

Y/n patted him down quickly and swore. “Fuck, nothing but a surprisingly toned set of abs!”

Wayne raised a brow. “And why would I have the crown, L/n? Isn't it still in the interrogation room?”

Y/n put her hands on her hips. “Yes. Yes. Of course. Of course it's still in there!” She sucked in a breath and conceded, ”Welp, I guess I'll see you at midnight.”

“After you.”

“No, after you,” Y/n smiled tightly.

“I insist.”

Y/n glowered and moved past time, triggering the witch again.

Later, Dick met up with Wayne in his office again. “You drank a soda? I’m not sure that's the worst thing in the world.”

Wayne shook his head and looked at Dick like he was delusional. “It was the worst thing in the world... worse than a fruit-forward Riesling.“ He held up a hand to stop Dick from speaking. “And no, I'm not exaggerating. Anyway, I cleverly ditched the crown in a trash can. We must wait a moment so as to not arouse suspicion when we retrieve it.”

“Got it.” Dick moved towards the door then looked back at his capitan and snickered. “Hey... while I'm in there, should I get you a soda?”

“I know you're joking, but on the off chance you aren't… No.”

“The handlebar thing was fake,” Cass announced as she marched back into the bullpen. ”They were trying to distract me. I think they made a play for the crown.”

“I thought so too, but I had my hand on the cabinet the whole time, so I'm pretty confident there's no way they could have gotten it.” Y/n said before opening the drawer to reveal an empty cabinet. “They got it.”

“Look at the back.” Cass squatted and pointed to the cabinet. “The screws are loose.”

“Damn it.” Y/n slammed her fist on her desk. “That son of a bitch is good.”

“Sir, we have a problem.” Dick rushed back into Wayne’s office. “The crown wasn't in the trash can. Y/n must have taken it back.”

“Damn it.” Wayne slammed his fist on his desk. “That son of a bitch is good.”

“We have to get that crown back!” Y/n exclaimed. “I already changed my email to "queeny/nrulez" with a z. Everyone's going to think I'm an idiot!”

“Hello, L/n,” Wayne glared at his detective.

“Captain,” Y/n greeted stoically. “Midnight nears.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Tick tock.”

“Tick tock indeed.”

“But tick tock for who?” Y/n hissed.

“It's ‘for whom.’” Wayne corrected.

“Don't try to provoke me!” Y/n cried out.

At the same time, both captain and detective declared, “I'm going to get that crown back!”

“Wait... what?” Y/n paused and squinted at Wayne.

“Huh?” Wayne shook his head. “Will you excuse me for a moment?”

“Yes, I too need to be excused,” Y/n stuttered.

Y/n pushed Cass into the briefing room and whispered sharply, “he doesn't have the crown! Cass, what do we do?”

“Pull the security tape,” she decided.

Damian stepped back into the interrogation room after Dick had informed him of the events. “Richard said you stole the crown when Y/n came through the ceiling,” he hummed.

“Yeah, I can't believe you fell for that,” Steph shrugged. ”You really think I'd mark the wrong vent? I've never marked a wrong vent in my life!”

“You're incredibly intense about vents,” Damian commented. He paused and then said, “wait... so Jon wasn't a distraction?”

“No, he was very real. Handsome, cool, hair as thick as a collie's. I found you the perfect guy, and you drove him off,” Steph said.

“Ugh.” Dami’s head fell into his hands. “I’m sorry. I should have trusted you. Please call him and tell him I messed up.”

“Yay!” Steph squealed.

“Alright,” Y/n and Cass poured over the security tape. “Here I am taking pictures with Dick’s kids.” She sighed and said lovingly, “man, I look so cool standing next to them. Should I have Jason’s kids?” Jason lifted his head up from the next-door table and groaned questioningly. “Go back to sleep, love,” Y/n reached over and patted his head.

“Okay. It's Wayne.” Cass watched as Bruce tumbled through the window and extracted the crown. “Whoa, how did he do that?”

“Man has an insane set of abs,” Y/n explained. “Oh, look, he's got the crown. And he's headed to the break room.”

“He dumped it in the trash,” Cass narrated, exhaling. She fast forwarded the video. “Did he go back and get it?”

In the feed, a janitor slumped in the room and pulled the trash bag out before hauling it away. “The janitor came in and grabbed it. But which janitor? Looks like I'm going to have to squint.” Y/n pushed her face close to the computer and glared at the screen. “Her name is Alice… Alice the janitor.” She glanced at the clock and mumbled, “it's eleven p.m. now. Alice's long gone.”

“How are we going to get her home address?”

“Who's the one person you know who sends out holiday cards to every single employee?” Y/n grinned.

“Tim!” Cass shouted out.

“What do you want, L/n?” Tim didn’t look up from his computer.

“What?” Y/n scoffed and brushed him away. “Why would you assume that I want anything? What I want is to apologise to my bestie, who I hurt.”

“It's ‘whom,’” Tim corrected.

“Why does the word ‘who’ even exist if you're not allowed to say it?!” Y/n huffed. “Anyways, now that I've apologised and you've accepted, can you please give me janitor Alice’s address?”

“This is related to your heist, isn't it?”

Y/n shook her head and stumbled over her words. “No, no. It's- uh, about a crime. I think janitor Alice is... going to kill the president.”

Wayne strolled up to Tim’s desk. “Oh, Drake. There's my protégé.”

Tim took a breath. “Let me guess? You want the janitor's address.”

Wayne looked up at the ceiling and then down to the ground. “Janitor? Address? Alice?”

“I never said her name,” Tim pointed out. He then leaned back in his chair. “Well, isn't this nice? After being excluded by both of you, here I am with the power to decide who wins and who loses your little heist.”

“I wouldn't have it any other way,” Wayne interrupted. ”You are my wisest detective.”

“Pathetic,” Y/n spat. “He can't be manipulated, sir.” She then turned to Tim and begged, “Tim, we are best friends! I know I usually reserve that title for Steph, but now’s a good time for you to take that, huh?”

“Friendship? Ha.” Wayne gawaffed. “What's friendship compared to the respect of a workplace superior?”

Y/n looked around desperately before bending some on one knee. “Timothy Drake, will you-”

“Excuse me?!” Jason shot up from his desk.

“Enough!” Tim yelled out, silencing everyone. “Pretending to be nice to me is worse than being mean. You know what? You want the address?” He picked up his phone and typed away. “Here, you can both have it.” Both Bruce and Y/n’s phones dinged. “Hope you're happy, you selfish monsters.” He stomped to his feet and slammed the break room door shut.

Y/n groaned and murmured, “I feel terrible. We should apologise.”

“Yes, I agree,” Wane said. “You definitely should now; I'll do mine later.”

“Fat chance!” Y/n snarled. “Steph!” she yelled into her comm. “I need you. Meet me downstairs.” 

Y/n, Cass, and Steph stood on the front steps to a tall apartment building, glaring up at it. “Okay, she lives on the sixteenth floor,” Y/n announced. “I think we beat Wayne here.”

“Or did you?” Their Captain appeared behind them, Dick and Damian in tow.

“I'll get the elevator,” Steph offered. When she noticed the ‘Out of Order’ sign, she cried out, “Shit! Looks like we're taking the stairs.”

“Alright, it's sixteen floors,” Cass breathed out. “Pace yourselves.”

Wayne’s team dashed ahead of them and Y/n screamed, “Forget it. Run as fast as you can!”

After a gruelling sixteen floors, Y/n pushed Wayne out of the way and slammed her fist into Alice’s door. “Ha ha! I win. I knocked first.” The door opened and an old woman greeted them. “You're not Alice…” Y/n said.

“You're looking for Alice?” The old woman asked. “She’s having a cigarette on the roof.”

“The roof?” Wayne grimaced.

Y/n burst through the roof door and panted, “yes. I did it. I… I am the greatest- holy shit that’s a lotta stairs- the greatest athlete in the world.” She leaned over and promptly vomited as the rest of the six-six trouped up after her.

“Alice? Alice?” Wayne looked around. “Where's Alice?”

Y/n glanced up to see a woman standing by the edge of the roof. “Oh, there she is. There she is! I did it! I did it!”

Wayne stared at Y/n, disgusted. “Good God.” He shook his head before turning back to the woman. “Are you Alice the janitor?”

“Nope. I'm your worst nightmare.” Alice turned around and took off her cap and the wig sewn into it. 

“Tim Drake…” Y/n gasped. “I don't understand what’s happening.”

Tim chuckled deviously, yet before he could speak, Y/n piped up and said, “allow me to explain. Tim and I were ahead of you the whole time.”

“No, you aren’t part of this.” Tim shoved Y/n back towards Wayne. “Get back to the loser side, loser.”

“Worth a shot,” Y/n murmured. “So how'd you pull it off?”

“Y/n, remember when you set off the witch?” Tim asked, lips curled into a smirk. “You made Captain Wayne flinch, which was weird, since his door was closed, but not weird, since he actually heard it over a bug he planted at your desk.” Y/n’s mouth dropped open and Tim continued, “I tapped into the bug's frequencies, so I had ears on Y/n. However, I still needed to know what Wayne was up to. That's where Jason came in.”

Jason stepped out from behind the door, still wrapped in a fuzzy blanket and his nose more red and snotty than ever before. He said in a nasally voice, “I masterminded the entire plan.”

“Jason, you did one small thing and I had to explain it to you forty-five times because you accidentally took NyQuil instead of DayQuil.” Tim shook his head before beginning his speech again. “He left a tiny crack in the blinds so I could read the Captain's lips.”

"Kori and your kids will distract Y/n. They'll be here at nine-thirty sharp. My waffle xylophone on the cheese man."

“What?” Wayne asked incredulously.

“My lip-reading is not flawless,” Tim admitted. “Now that I knew your plan, it was simple to disrupt. After I got into character, Wayne triggered the witch, which brought Y/n into the room.”

“And I threw the crown in the trash can…” Wayne nodded along.

“Exactly as I planned,” Tim grinned. “Then I sent you all here, placed an out-of-order sign on the perfectly functional elevator, made you all walk up thirty-one flights of stairs, and vomit.”

Y/n grumbled and muttered, “actually, it was three times, if you count all the stairwell stuff.”

“I'm my own person, capable of making my own decisions, and I decided to humiliate you both,” Tim finished his speech.

“One last question: where's the crown?” Wayne asked.

“Oh, it's at Orin’s Bar, the official site of my coronation.”

Tim strode into the bar, decked out in a royal cape and sash. Wayne held up the crown and declared, “all hail the crown of destiny.” The precinct cheered as their capitan concluded, “and all hail who wear it, Tim Drake, the ruler of the six-six.”

“And I believe there's something else you both need to say,” Tim snarked.

Both Bruce and Y/n said, “Tim Drake is an amazing detective-slash-genius.”

“Drinks are on us!” Wayne shouted. Y/n shook her head and he corrected himself. “Drinks are on me.”

“Heyyyyyy Y/n…” Jason sniffed as Y/n helped him through the door of his apartment. “I forgot to tell you but I think I broke up with Rose.”

“You think?” Y/n chuckled. “How about you tell me when you’re not hyped up on meds?”

“I will.” Jason fell down onto his bed. “I’ll also tell you I love ya.”

Y/n stilled and flushed. “O-oh? Really?”

“Yeah.” Jason sniffed once more before falling asleep, snoring loudly. 

Y/n swallowed before leaning down and kissing his forehead. His fever had finally broken. “I’m gonna make you some soup,” she whispered, “and you better eat it tomorrow. I already told Wayne that you’re not coming into work tomorrow, so don’t you dare try to pull another stunt like today.” She moved out of his room and before Y/n closed the door, she smiled softly. “I love you too, Jason Todd.”

[shakespeareanwannabe]

As You Wish, Chapter 1

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister, reader is described as having a tattoo and goes by Buttercup, verbal arguing, almost physical fighting, alcohol use, references to death and loss and mourning

Jake’s House, a few months after the Uranium Mission

When she had been invited to Miramar to visit her older brother, Robert Floyd, she had been given two ground rules. Follow all of Robby’s instructions so as to not get into trouble with the locals or the top brass. And do not fall for Hangman’s charms.

The first rule was easy. She was a rule follower by nature, allowing herself to be ruled by her brain and her built in sense of logic, so following Robby’s lead was easy. And she’d assumed that the second rule would be easy as well. Anyone named Hangman was not someone she was interested in getting to know, especially since her brother had told her almost a year ago that the man earned the nickname by always leaving his wingmen hanging as he chased the glory for himself. Though Robby had seemed to relax his personal views of Hangman after their latest top secret mission, he remained firm that he wasn’t going to allow his baby sister to become one of his co-worker’s (dare he say friend’s) conquests.

And yet, here she was, three months after she was supposed to leave to go back to New York, cuddled up on Hangman’s couch as they settled in for another movie night. So much for letting her brain rule and following her innate logic.

Her brain was mush and her logic had gone out the window the second he’d asked her to stay, and she knew it wouldn’t be coming back so long as he was tracing his long fingers up and down the length of her spine as she laid on his chest, her head slowly rising and falling as they watched her all time favourite movie.

She sighed happily as she felt his plush lips press into her hairline.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” he whispered as two characters sword fought on screen.

“How happy I am,” she murmured into his chest. “And how lucky. I’m lucky I found you, lucky my job is letting me work remote, lucky to feel so happy.”

Jake pulled her closer, tangling their legs together beneath the light throw blanket that had been tossed over them. “I’m happy too,” he whispered, watching as the main character on screen was now struggling to fight a giant. “Even though I have zero idea what is happening in this movie,” he added with a chuckle.

“That’s because you’ve been too busy trying to cop a feel to pay attention to a seminal classic of our generation.”

“Can you blame me? You’re literally on top of me. No guy in his right mind is going to pass up that kind of opportunity.”

She giggled. “Well, try to focus because my favourite part is coming up.”

Jake pouted but agreed, watching as the man in black outwitted the smaller man, grabbed the princess, and took off running.

“This is your favourite part?” he chuckled as the man in black mocked the princess’s pain.

“Would you hush?” she clapped a hand over his mouth, then shrieked as he licked her palm. “You’re disgusting!” she giggled, wiping her hand down his shirt. “Ooh! This is it!” She turned her attention completely to the screen as the princess shoved her captor down a large hill.

“As…you…wish!” the man called as he tumbled head over heels, the princess following straight after him.

“There had to be an easier way to follow him down the hill,” Jake joked.

“Jake!” she whined, craning her head to look at him from her position against his chest. “She doesn’t care! Buttercup doesn’t feel any pain. Her Westley is alive, so she’s so happy she could fly! Now stop ruining it!”

“Alright, I’m sorry. Hey…” he pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’m sorry. Thank you for sharing this with me, Buttercup.”

She blinked, her head cocking to the side in an inquisitive display that made him melt. “Buttercup?”

“Yeah. You’re brave and clever and loyal, definitely stubborn, and I have no doubt that you’d push someone down a hill for insulting you if you knew you could get away with it. Plus…” he pressed a sweet kiss to her lips this time, grinning as she gasped lightly. “I’d definitely fight a determined Hispanic swordfighter, a giant, and a conniving Wallace Shawn to keep you safe.”

She giggled, resting her head back on his chest. “Buttercup…I kinda like that.”

Camp Silver Star, Now

Abby quickly settled into her cabin, a cozy wooden building with four sets of bunk beds and large windows that opened onto the woods that surrounded them. Her cabinmates were nice enough, not judging her for her slight British accent, though there were some questions as to why a child with family in the American military had a British accent. However, by the end of the first day as the eight girls shared stories and jokes about their lives. They had all been impressed when they found out that her mum was a famous author, most of the girls recognizing her mother’s penname from their own bookshelves back home, and even more impressed when they found out her uncle and aunt had flown with the near infamous Dagger Squad. Most of the girls in her cabin had family in the Navy, so they were at least semi familiar with stories of the defunct but elite squad of fighter pilots. Her mum had been right, in a way. Being around other children who had family in the military (whether they were currently serving or retired, like her aunt and uncle) was a bonding experience. Plus, it helped that she genuinely liked the other girls. They were friendly and two of them, her bunkmate Isabelle and her friend Max, even wanted to be fighter pilots, just like her.

Abby could feel the sting of homesickness fade with every day that passed. She filed things away in her brain, stories that she wanted to share with her mum when she was able to call her on Phone Home Fridays, activities she wanted to continue once she was back home, jokes she wanted to tell her aunt to see if she could earn a rare smile. She even planned on begging Penny, the owner of the camp, for some of her recipes to take home, because the food was absolutely delicious.

Abby sniffed as the scent of maple and salt hit her nose as the door to the dining cabin was thrown open and her troop strolled inside for breakfast on the first Friday of her visit to camp. Pancakes were apparently a Friday morning tradition at Camp Silver Star, and Abby could feel herself salivating at the very thought. She was about to make a beeline for the breakfast counter when she heard a voice calling her name.

“Abby!” Max pouted. “My braid came undone. Can you help?”

Abby rolled her eyes fondly. Max had extremely curly hair and always complained about it getting in her eyes when they were doing activities, so Abby had started braiding it for her.

“Yes,” she called back, eyeing the long line of campers jealously as she turned her back on the table laden with all her breakfast favourites, just missing a young camper rushing behind her to bypass the line and go straight to the woman manning the tongs.

“Hey Amelia, does the fruit salad have cantaloupe in it? Because I’m allergic,” Charlie stated, holding out her bowl of fruit salad. She’d been so distracted by the delicious smells and the juicy gossip she was sharing with her friends that she had totally missed that very crucial detail.

“Oh shoot! Yeah, it does. Sorry, Charlie. I’ll talk to the cooks about leaving cantaloupe out of the fruit salad. You and another camper are allergic, so that really can’t be happening.”

“Thanks, Amelia. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, and I’ll appreciate not getting yelled at by your dad for letting you go into anaphylactic shock,” Amelia winked and Charlie grinned. She’d known Amelia just as long as she’d known Penny, given that Amelia was Penny’s daughter and she’d been present for all visits and memorials for her stepdad.

“Don’t worry. Your mom still scares him, so he wouldn’t yell. Too much.”

Amelia rolled her eyes playfully. “Thank god for small miracles.”

Charlie waved and walked over to her cabin’s table, not paying any attention to the camper who had just sidled up to the breakfast table.

“Good morning,” Abby chirped happily as Amelia turned away from her to grab a plate. “I have a quick question about your fruit salad, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, kiddo. What’s up?”

“Would there happen to be cantaloupe in your fruit salad? I’m unfortunately allergic.”

Amelia’s brow furrowed as she turned back to face the camper. “I already to — oh!” She blinked as though she was trying to erase a sudden case of double vision. “Oh. A-Abigail, right?” When the camper nodded at her, she giggled nervously. “Yeah. Abigail. Hi. Hi. I’m—I’m Amelia. W-we know about your allergy. You a-and another student—I mean—camper have the same allergy. I…I’m gonna go talk to the cooks right now and make sure they know not to put any more cantaloupe in the fruit salad. Okay?” Amelia rambled, backing up and almost bumping into a cook bringing out a hot tray of bacon. “Oops! Sorry, Ralph! Can you take over for me for a quick second? Thank you!”

Abby was left scratching her head, wondering why the breakfast lady was so jumpy, and particularly curious as to why she could be heard running towards the main office screaming, “MOM!”

Abby and her cabin had spent the morning in the flight simulator, which had only served to cement her desire to be a Navy aviator like her aunt and uncle. She couldn’t wait until later that afternoon, when she could use the computers to video chat with her family back home and tell them all about how she had almost made it to the end of the program without crashing once. Until then, her cabin, Cabin 4, was scheduled with Cabin 7 for horseback riding. And while Abby was an accomplished English rider, she would much rather be joining the queue at the computer building. But, since she couldn’t skip the activity, she lined up with the rest of her cabinmates along the wooden fence that sectioned off the riding ring.

A girl inside the ring was just finishing up her turn on a small course of jumps that had been set up at the opposite end of the ring.

“Way to go, Charlie!” the riding instructor called as the girl, riding a large palomino, trotted back to the entrance of the ring.

“No sweat,” the girl, Charlie, shrugged as she dismounted with ease and patted the horse’s neck. “Champ’s a sweetheart, and that course is nothing compared to the one back home.”

The instructor, Karen, rolled her eyes playfully. “Yes, we shouldn’t expect anything less from the ranch girl from Texas. Would anyone like to try to top Charlie’s time?” she called, looking down the line at the rest of the campers.

“I’ll give it a go,” Abby volunteered, adjusting her helmet and leading her horse, Rosita, towards the gate. “I’m a pretty decent rider.”

“I’m not sure ‘pretty decent’ is going to cut it, but suit yourself,” Charlie retorted as she passed.

“Charlie, be nice!” Karen barked, her eyes scanning over Rosita’s tack to make sure it was properly fitted.

“Sorry, Karen,” Charlie replied in a tone that suggested to Abby that the apology was less than sincere.

Abby rolled her eyes and mounted up, patting Rosita’s chestnut hide as she settled into the saddle.

“Don’t let Charlie get to you, okay?” Karen murmured, tightening the girth of Rosita’s saddle. “She’s a nice kid, just a little…”

“Ostentatious?” 

Karen stifled a smile. “You all set?”

Abby nodded, gathering her reins and clicking her tongue. “I’ve got this.”

Charlie smirked as the other camper started off at a trot, but that smirk slowly faded as she and the horse started going through the course with ease, clearing the jumps and obstacles with greater ease than she and Champ had. She was left to scoff as the pair cleared the last jump with ease and cantered back to the starting line, the kids from Cabin 4 cheering her on as Karen announced that she had beat her time by one and a half seconds.

“It’s alright, Charlie. You’ll get her next time,” assured Ryann, her bunkmate, as they led their horses back to the stables to groom them and bed them down for the night.

“It’s probably because she was riding English style,” Charlie grumped. “Everyone knows its easier to jump in English style.”

“That’s not true and you know it,” a posh voice sounded behind them, and Charlie rolled her eyes.

“How would you know? Have you ever tried to ride Western?” Charlie challenged, stepping closer. The girl didn’t back down, clipping her horse onto the tether outside the stall and stepping up to her.

“No. Have you ever tried riding English?”

“No, but—”

“Then you can’t claim that one is easier than the other, can you?”

The other girls from Cabin 4 laughed, and Charlie felt her blood boil. She hated being laughed at. It happened enough at her school back home and she absolutely despised it.

“Yeah, well English riders are usually stuck up rich kids anyway. How much did your mommy and daddy spend to teach you how to ride like that?” she snapped, feeling her face flush with anger and envy.

Abby felt tears pool in her eyes. “I…I mean…”

“Why are the horses just standing around, not being groomed?” Karen questioned as she strolled in from the office, taking in the stiffness between the two girls and the heaviness in the air.

“I…it’s nothing, Karen,” Abby murmured, taking her helmet off and pulling her hair out of its low bun.

“Yeah. We’re fine,” Charlie added on, removing her helmet and allowing her blond hair to cascade over her shoulders, ignoring the gasp of surprise from those around her.

Charlie turned to put her helmet on the shelf at the same time as Abby, their eyes locking with hurt and anger glimmering beneath the matching green seas.

Abby’s eyes blinked in shock and Charlie schooled her features.

“What are you looking at?” she muttered.

“I…I mean, we…”

“You two are practically identical!” Ryann screeched, the horses nickering in surprise.

“You’re dreaming, Ry,” Charlie stepped around her and started brushing down Champ.

“I agree with her,” Abby stated, stepping up to Champ’s other side and meeting her eyes. “If you take away a few cosmetic differences, we look the exact same.”

Charlie shook her head. “You’re imagining things. Or you need to get your eyes checked.”

Abby scoffed and crossed her arms. “I have perfect vision, I’ll have you know. And I’m not imagining things.”

“Well, I think you are!” Charlie dug her heels in. “There’s no way I look like someone as snooty as you!”

Abby crossed her arms. “Well, I don’t particularly want to look like a cornfed hick either, but at least I’m not delusional and denying the situation.”

“What did you just call me?”

“Girls, girls!” Karen appeared at Champ’s head, soothing the now nervous horse. “Take a walk. Both of you. Cool off before you call home. And I don’t want to hear any more negative talk like that. Not in my stables.”

An echo of “yes Karen” bounced off the walls as the girls glared at each other and stalked off with their cabinmates, each set of girls trying to calm down the green eyed blond in their midst.

“Ugh, dad! But you promised!”

Charlie glared at the pixelated likeness of her father’s face. Normally, she would’ve been thrilled to see her dad. He had a kind face that let Charlie know that, even when he was mad or tired or frustrated, he loved her, the crow’s feet at his eyes and the dimples in his cheeks appearing every time he smiled at her. They appeared now as he grinned at her through the computer screen.

“I know I did. But I’m still saying no. And that’s because the only complaint I’ve heard is about this girl,” Jake Seresin chuckled. “Otherwise, you seem to be having a great time. And I know Penny is taking good care of you.”

“Well, yeah…” Charlie muttered. “But she called me a cornfed hick!” She purposefully left out the argument they had about possibly looking alike, because Charlie knew it was not the truth.

“Only after you called her snooty, punk,” Jake shook his head. “I know I’ve taught you not to dish it out if you can’t take it.”

“I know, but…but she’s so infuriating!” Charlie moaned as she sat back in her seat.

“You want me to come down there and handle it, Charlie?” a voice called as a moustachioed man in a Hawaiian shirt crowded into the screen.

“You are not going out there to handle an 11-year-old, dude,” another man appeared on the call.

“It’s fine, Uncle Roo,” Charlie giggled. “Listen to Uncle Javy.”

“Yeah, Uncle Roo, listen to Uncle Javy and get out of here,” Jake parroted, glaring at his best friend.

“Hey, don’t put words in my mouth,” Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado countered, leaning further into view. “You’ve just got to find something you’re better at than her and beat her at it. That’ll teach her.”

“Yeah!” Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw crowed, leaning in on the other side, completely blocking Jake from view. “I’m sure you could hustle her in darts! You and your dad have been beating us since you were big enough to handle sharp objects!”

“Alright, alright, enough!” Jake shoved his way through the two other men and glared at them. “Would you mind giving me a moment alone with my daughter?”

Charlie giggled as her uncles blinked at her, then at her dad, before muttering about rudeness and walking away, waving at her as they clicked the door shut in the distance.

“Sorry about those animals,” Jake joked but Charlie shook her head.

“No, it’s okay. I missed them too.”

“Ah. I see how it is,” he pouted.

“Oh, c’mon, dad. You know I miss you most.”

Jake smiled softly, gazing softly at his little girl. “Yeah, I miss you most too.” He sighed. “Listen, kiddo, I…I wanted to tell you something. I—”

“Alright, girls!” Penny called. “Time to switch and let the next batch of girls have their turn.

“Maybe you can tell me next week?” Charlie suggested as she prepared to log off, her heart panging at the thought of not seeing her dad for another week, but the lack of communication was supposed to simulate not always being able to talk to your family while you’re overseas. Plus, it made things equitable for those who had parents in the military, because they wouldn’t have to hear their cabinmates talking about frequent talks with their folks.

Jake nodded with a sigh. “Yeah, I guess so. Hey, punk?”

“Yeah, dad?”

He grinned. “I love you lots.”

“I love you lots too,” she murmured, feeling herself choke up at the pang of homesickness she felt. “I’ll see you next week, okay?”

“Okay, kiddo. Bye.”

Charlie blinked at the black screen before slowly standing up and walking away, only pausing to glare at Abby as she strolled by and sat in the same cubicle she had just been using.

Her uncles were right. When the time came, she would whoop that prissy girl’s butt in darts, just like her daddy had taught her.

“But mum!” Her Aunt Natasha smothered a chuckle at Abby’s affronted tone. “You and Uncle Bob promised!”

Her mother sighed, pressing her fingers into her eyelids. “I know, love. I’m sorry. But having a small spat with another camper doesn’t mean your uncle can drop everything and come to get you. I’m sorry.”

“But…but…”

“What’s this about, kiddo?” Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace asked from her position next to Abby’s mother. “I know you, you don’t quit on something just because some little bit-ter girl gave you grief.”

Abby giggled weakly at her aunt’s poor attempt at covering the near curse.

“What is it, darling?” her mum leaned closer, close enough for Abby to make out the small buttercup flower tattoo on her clavicle where it peeked out from her neckline. She had seen that tattoo her entire life and it always brought her comfort. She knew from experience that it was the reason her aunt and uncle always called her mum Buttercup.

“She said that I was prissy and snooty and that my mommy and daddy must’ve paid a lot of money for me to be able to ride like I do,” she almost whispered, but she knew from the pain in her mother’s eyes that she had heard her.

“Oh, baby, I…”

“Yeah, no, I was right the first time. What a little bit—”

“Nat!” Buttercup cried, whipping her head around to stare at her best friend. “Not helping!”

“What? You want me to just sit here while someone insults our girl?”

“Yes, I want you to sit there and let me handle it!”

Nat rolled her eyes and stood, half disappearing from frame. “Well, in that case, I’m just gonna go. Bye, kiddo.”

“Bye Auntie Nat,” Abby called at her aunt’s retreating back.

Buttercup sighed again, rubbing her eyes. “Sorry, baby. I know that talking about your father is a sensitive subject—”

“Yes, because I don’t know anything about him!”

“I…I know,” Buttercup murmured, leaning in closer to the screen. “And I know we should’ve had a conversation about him a long time ago, but…”

Abby’s shoulders heaved and she leaned in close too. “I know. I’m sorry, mum.”

Buttercup smiled softly. “My sweet girl…you have nothing to be sorry about. I…I’ll tell you what. We’ll have a girl’s day when you get back and we’ll have that conversation.”

“You promise?”

“I swear.”

“Thank you, mum.”

Buttercup smiled at her through the screen. “You shouldn’t have to thank me for having a much-needed conversation with my growing daughter. And in the meantime, please just ignore this girl. I’m afraid that engaging in more competition with this girl will escalate the situation beyond either of your control.”

“But mum!”

“Just ignore her. She’s probably taking something wrong in her life out on you.”

“So, you want me to be the bigger person?”

“I know it’s not fair, but yes. I know you have the same competitive spirit as your uncle and Nat, and that you need that competitive spirit to make it at the Naval Academy and at Top Gun, but right now you’re just a kid. So, please, just let it go.”

“Mum, I—”

“Alright, girls! Say goodbye and let the next group have a chance!” Penny called.

“Abby, promise me.”

“Bye mum! Love you!”

Buttercup sighed before smiling. “I love you too, sweetheart. Take care.”

Abby smiled, feeling a small pang of loneliness as she looked at her mother’s kind face. “I’ll see you soon, mum,” she murmured before closing the tab and sighing. She had been feeling so much better about being away from home, but seeing her mother’s face made the longing for home rush back. Home was her mom, her uncle, and her Aunt Nat, where everyone understood her and nobody questioned her small, odd family. Home was not Camp Silver Star, where a girl who looked just like her gave her attitude and made her think about a huge part of her life that was missing.

“Sorry, mum,” she whispered to herself. She loved her mom and often took her advice, but not this time. She could not in good conscience just ignore this girl. That’s not how she operated. So she would find a way to put this Charlie girl in her place, whether her mother liked it or not.

While the other campers were making their phone calls home, the kids who had already made their calls or were waiting to call got to hang out in the games cabin. It was full of a mix of old and new arcade games, an air hockey table, board games, a couple of pool tables, and a dart board.

When Abby arrived at the games cabin, she immediately spotted Charlie and her friends standing at the dart board and an idea sparked in Abby’s brain. She was decent at darts, her aunt and uncle had made sure of it, and she was good at bluffing. Perhaps this was something that she could beat Charlie at.

Rolling her shoulders back, she strode over to the small group of girls and cleared her throat.

“I’ll play winner,” she declared, staring Charlie down.

The other blond smirked and nodded. “Done deal,” she chuckled and threw a dart, not daring to break eye contact.

Abby turned at the sound of cheers and gasps, and saw the dart sticking directly in the bullseye, her heart sinking at the sight. She was, in fact, decent at darts, but clearly Charlie was more than decent. This would be more difficult than she thought.

“And that—” Charlie let the dart fly and smirked in triumph. “Is game.”

Abby sighed but something occurred to her as Charlie’s friends surrounded her for a congratulatory hug.

“I guess that makes us tied!” she called over the din, causing it to silence immediately as Charlie turned to her.

“What are you talking about? I beat you.”

“Yeah,” Abby agreed. “At darts. But I beat you in the riding ring. So that makes us tied.”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t count. I beat you fair and square.”

“If you insist…I suppose that means you’re too scared to face me at billiards.”

Charlie froze, a scowl marring her eerily familiar features. “I’m not scared.”

“Prove it,” Abby stepped up to her, gesturing to one of the empty pool tables. “Winner can even break.”

“Fine,” Charlie muttered through gritted teeth. At least she knew she was a champ at pool too. She had been playing with her dad and uncles since she was tall enough to reach the tabletop. However, she gulped as she watched Abby expertly rack the balls and chalk her cue, maybe it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Eight ball, corner pocket!” Abby crowed as the ball sunk neatly into the net.

Charlie groaned, leaning on her pool cue. They had been pretty evenly matched up until one of Charlie’s stripes had ricocheted wrong and sunk one of Abby’s solids. After that, Abby had proceeded to sink every one of her balls neatly, ending with the solid black eight ball. Charlie had never seen anything like it, not even when her dad was playing against Javy and Rooster.

Abby approached her, her hand outstretched with a small, taunting grin gracing her face. “Good match. I believe that makes us 2-1.”

Charlie smacked her hand away as a bolt of frustration tore through her. “I told you! Your little stunt while riding didn’t count! Besides, even if it did count, Rosita did all the hard work anyway!”

“Then I suppose it was Champ who did all the hard work while you were riding the course!”

“That’s not true and you know it! I’ve spent my entire life on the back of a horse! You’re only a half decent rider because your mommy and daddy paid for you to be.”

Abby fought back the tears that almost always automatically pooled in her eyes at the mention of her parents. “Stop. Saying. That. You don’t know the first thing about me!”

“Or. What? You gonna sic your mommy and daddy on me?”

The two girls were nose to nose, their friends and fellow campers huddled around them in a circle, anxious to see exactly what was going to happen.

“Ahh!” Abby’s cry was sharp and painfilled as she pushed Charlie away from her, but Charlie had been working on her father’s ranch since before she could walk and she wasn’t so easily swayed.

“That’s it!” She grabbed for Abby, but before she could make contact, she felt a firm hand grip her arm and looked up to see Penny standing above them, holding the two of them apart as her nostrils flared.

“I will not tolerate any fighting in this camp,” she stated stonily, glaring between Charlie and Abby. “And from what I’ve heard, the two of you have been at each other’s throats all day.”

“W-what are you going to do with us?” Abby murmured, her eyes heavy with fear.

“Send us home?” Charlie tacked on hopefully.

Penny sighed heavily. “No. The two of you will be assisting with extra chores around the camp instead of participating in group activities for two weeks. And…you will be removed from your cabins and placed into a smaller cabin. Together.”

Charlie gasped. “You can’t—”

“And you will be there for the rest of your stay. Together. Amelia will come get you for your meals and escort you to the dining hall, where you will be allowed to sit with your friends. Other than that, you will be living together, cleaning together, and working together until you two can figure out how to get along.”

“Mrs. Mitchell—”

“Aunt Penny—”

“My decision is final. You have ten minutes to grab all your belongings and to meet me by the trail head. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Mrs. Mitchell.”

“Yes, Aunt Penny.”

“Good. You are dismissed.”

Penny sighed as she sat at her desk, her small office only lit by her desk lamp and the faint hint of moonlight trickling in from the window. It had been a long day. Between Amelia hunting her down and explaining that there were a pair of doppelgängers at camp, Karen’s report about a verbal altercation during riding practice, and one of her younger campers running to tell her about two girls getting into an argument in the games cabin, she knew she deserved the small glass of whiskey she was currently sipping on. The campers were safe, the security systems were set, and Amelia had opted to sleep close to the smaller cabin where her two problem campers were now housed, claiming that she’d be able to step in before any blood was shed if the two girls went at it again.

Penny sighed again, rolling her neck before looking at the photo frame she had on her desk.  

“I don’t know, Mav,” she whispered to the portrait of her late husband, dressed in his military whites as he waited for her to come down the aisle. “Maybe inviting Charlie and Abby here at the same time was a mistake.” She laughed quietly before taking another sip of her drink. “I know, I know. You would’ve wanted me to invite them the second I opened this place, but I wanted to have a year or two experience before I tried to do…this.” She shook her head. “They’re just so angry at each other. And at themselves. God, they remind me so much of Amelia after I split from her dad. But at least she was old enough to understand. And I wasn’t hiding a whole sibling from her either.” Penny drained her glass and leaned in close to the picture. “I know. You’re right. It’s my duty to try to fix this…the way you wanted to before you died.” Penny sighed shakily and wiped her eyes. “I miss you, Mav. I know you would’ve known how to bring Charlie and Abby together if you were here. I’ll do my best. I love you.”

With that, Penny pressed a light kiss to the glass of the frame, thousands of lip prints providing proof of her nightly ritual, and stood to stretch before heading off to bed, her head swimming with different ideas on how to bring the two girls together.  

—————————-

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[wish-i-were-heather]

GOOD CHEMISTRY ⤵ XANDER HAWTHORNE X READER

ABOUT: 1685 words, no use of y/n

STORY: xander is assigned to be your lab partner for an assignment that neither of you really understand

WARNINGS: none!!

A/N: this is actually inspired by a real lab i did in my chem class bc my friend reminded me of xander. a lot of the dialogue is actual real dialogue we had lmao. so yeah fair warning that this isn't very well written just something i threw together for fun :) also i dont understand chemistry at all so sorry if anything's incorrect

“Alright, you may begin.”

You were standing alone in the corner of your science classroom. Your teacher said she was going to randomly assign partners for the lab. But there was an odd number of people, so you were left alone. 

You looked around a bit to make sure there wasn’t anyone else who didn’t have a lab partner before walking to the front of the class.

“Uh, Mrs. Watson?” You asked. She looked up from her computer with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yes?”

You cleared your throat. “I don’t have a partner.”

She frowned, standing up from her desk and looking over the classroom. “Oh, that’s my mistake. We’re missing a student today, I marked that in attendance. I didn’t realize that when giving partners. My apologies.” She pointed at a pair working at the table in the back corner. “Can I ask you to go join-”

“I’m here!”

The door slammed open and hit the wall with a loud bang! Everyone’s heads turned, and the class went silent. But they all went back to their work when they saw who it was.

“You’re late, Mr. Hawthorne,” Mrs. Watson sighed. “Again.”

Xander’s backpack was slung hastily over one shoulder. He closed the classroom door and nodded. “Yup! Third time this week. But, in my defense-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” She pointed at you. “Your partner will tell you what we’re doing. Get to work.”

He nodded again, turning to you and offering a wide smile. 

“So… that empty table in the back?”

~~~

Five minutes later, you had everything set up. There were strangely colored chemicals in different tubes, and you were both wearing the aprons and goggles that you were required to.

You looked down and frowned. The aprons themselves were ugly, plus the goggles. You weren’t wearing them, and you really didn’t want to. Part of you wondered if getting burned by a chemical was all that bad after all.

But you kept it on.

With a sigh, you slipped on the goggles and looked up at Xander. He was finishing tying the back of his apron too, and for a moment you just watched him.

His dark hair was tousled, like he hadn’t had time to brush it that morning. You could see just beneath the atrocious apron that he was wearing, that the tie of his school uniform was loosely askew. His tongue was poking slightly out of his mouth in focus as he finished tying the back.

When he finished, Xander’s eyes wandered from the supplies on the table before meeting hours. But at first, neither of you said anything.

You decided to break the silence.

“Nice eyebrow.”

“Thanks,” He grinned. “Grew it myself.”

“And the other?” You asked.

“I was left unattended.”

“Figures.”

Xander motioned towards all the stuff on the table. Tubes, flasks, off-looking liquids. You didn’t know what you were supposed to be doing with any of it. You’d stayed up late writing an entire essay, so you were running on little sleep

Apparently, there was a reason you were given three weeks to write it instead of two hours. 

“So what are we doing?” He asked. 

“Honestly, I have zero idea,” you told him. “I wasn’t paying any attention.”

“Oh, well, I wasn’t here, so I couldn’t have been paying attention. This is kinda all on you.”

You stepped up to the table and picked up the instructions Mrs. Watson passed out that you hadn’t bothered to read. But reading them over, you realized you didn’t understand any of it.

“This is all, like, fancy chemistry stuff,” you said.

Xander took the paper from you. “Let me see that.” He looked it over for a minute, reading fairly quickly for the amount of small text that was on the paper. 

You studied his expression. “Should we ask for help?”

“No-” Xander snapped immediately. “She doesn’t like me.”

“I mean, you are always late.”

“But I am an excellent student!” He insisted as he put down the paper. “She just doesn’t know how to appreciate my gifts.”

“Did you gift her your eyebrow or something?” 

He stuck out his tongue at you. “Do you want me to help you finish this lab or not?”

“Fine, fine,” you said, unable to stop the corner of your lips from turning up. “So what are we supposed to do?”

“It’s simple, really,” Xander said, finally letting his tone drop to more serious as he turned to the table. “We’ve gotta take the pH measurements of each of the four liquids, and then mix them together to see if it’ll raise or lower the pH levels.”

You stared at him. “Huh?”

He sighed. “Just open your notebook. We have to hypothesize.”

You did what he said and opened your notebook. Rereading the instruction paper, it said you had to guess what happened when you mix hydrochloric acid and sodium hydroxide.

“Is that gonna raise or lower the pH, Xander?” You asked without looking up from your paper.

“Raise,” he answered. “More of a base.”

Silence fell between the two of you again as you finished writing your hypotheses. You were pretty sure that yours was absolute nonsense, but at least you had something written. 

“Okay, thanks,” you said. Xander took both your and his papers and set them aside. “I’m not necessarily bad at chemistry. I’m just a bit… scientifically challenged.”

“Is that so? That just means I get to teach you. How exciting”

“That’s only half terrifying coming from you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He shrugged. “So, let’s start before Mrs. Watson decides to get mad at me again.”

~~

You quickly learned that “scientifically challenged” was actually a lie. You were, in fact, very bad at chemistry. 

pH scales made no sense. Xander had to do all of the measuring, while you just wrote down whatever number and color he gave you. The first was red, the second was a blueish-purple, the third was yellow, and the last was a greenish-blue. You promptly forgot the names of all of them the moment after he’d read them to you, but it was fine. As long as you wrote down the data and got the work done.

Xander smiled at you again, the corners of his eyes wrinkling behind the big goggles. He put his hand up in the air. “High five?”

“We’re not done yet.”

“Okay, but we did the first part. HIgh five me.”

You gave in. 

“Alright,” Xander clapped his hands together. “Next step. Mix them together.”

You practically jumped up. “Oooh, can I pour it in?” 

“The erlenmeyer flask, yeah.”

“Who’s Meyer?”

He sighed and pointed at the empty flask in the middle of the table. “Pour them both in there.”

“Oh, okay, got it.” You reached for the first tube with a white liquid and poured it into the flask. You then did the same for the pink one next to it. “Can I drink this?” You joked as you poured it in.

“No, you may not.”

You poured them in quickly and waited. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on who you asked, there was no big explosion. Xander stepped forward again and measured the pH. 

“Eight,” he explained. “They almost neutralize each other. Key word almost.”

You nodded and the both of you returned to your papers. “So,” you asked. “What do I write in this box?”

He stared at you. “The box that asks for the color?”

“Mhm.”

“You put the color.”

“So… pink?”

Xander rolled his eyes, but he had a smile on his face. “Are you doing this on purpose?” 

“Perhaps.” You got to write the word pink in the box that asked for the final color of the liquid, and then number seven for the pH number.

“Perhaps,” He teased under his breath, putting on a very bad British accent.

You looked up from your work. “Are you bullying me?”

Xander gasped. “No, of course not. I love British people. My brother is half British.”

“What?” You exclaimed. “Who? Which one?”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter, we need to finish the lab.”

“I’m trying, but I don’t understand,” you sighed, deciding to ask him about his family lineage later.

“Have you ever seen Breaking Bad?”

You frowned, that was the most random question. “No.”

“Hm. You learn a lot about chemistry from it. I did.”

“I probably wouldn’t retain any of it.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “You’re right.”

You nodded and turned back to both of your papers to work on writing the conclusion, whether or not your hypothesis was correct. Then you realized what he’d just said- that you wouldn’t retain anything. 

“Wait, what?”

~~

The bell rang just as Xander handed you his paper, and you went to turn both of yours into the basket at the front of the class. “Thanks,” he said when you returned, slipping his backpack over his shoulder.

“Thank you, actually. I probably would’ve failed if you weren’t my partner.” You laughed. 

“Maybe this is your sign to actually pay attention.”

“Maybe this is your sign to show up on time.”

He shrugged. “Why would I do that? I kinda liked working with you.”

“Only kinda?” You teased.

“Sorry, I meant to say I’m obsessed with you and we have to do every single lab together for the rest of time or I will pass away,” Xander said, putting his hands on his chest dramatically. 

You rolled your eyes at him, just like he had before. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late for next period.”

“I’m always late,” he shrugged. 

You grabbed his wrist and began to walk towards the door. You were the last ones in the class, even the teacher was in a different teacher’s room talking to them. “Yeah, I’m trying to fix that. Let’s go.”

“We don’t even have the same next period.”

“I don’t care, we’re leaving now,” you insisted. Xander sighed reluctantly.

“Yes ma’am,” he muttered sarcastically.

But that grin never left his face.

the writing above belongs to me. please do not copy, modify, repost on other sites or claim as your own. © 2024 wish-i-were-heather

TAGS: (honestly im just gonna keep them down here because it makes the top part look more clean) @littlemissmentallyunstable @gretag13 @lanterns-and-daydreams @whatsamongus @alwaysthefangirl

@emelia07 @f4iry-bell @low-caloriesmonsterultra @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @maybxlle

@xoxo-vee @elysianwayy77 @midiosaamor @sheisntyou - lmk if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist!!

[papayatori]

Fall away (p5)

Inumaki Toge x fém!reader

Had I lived a life of weakness, or was I simply realizing just how strong everyone else around me had become? I stood in the middle of the training yard, fending off attacks from Yuta. He had decided to be my sparring partner today.

He had introduced himself to me earlier, almost shaking from his own nervousness. He was Inumaki’s best friend, I knew I would have to talk with him eventually, but today seemed off to me.

I knew that he was on a mission with the others, but I had no idea that when he’d gotten back that he would have a sudden interest in me. Though, I had learned recently from Gojo, that we had similar abilities. While Yuta failed to use a technique like the rest of us did with the exceptions of Maki, he still possessed a cursed spirit within himself known as Rika. Maki had warned me of her, as she had had a flaming jealousy of Maki from their first meeting. The only explanation of this was that Maki was another female that knew Yuta; though the flame in her eyes and the blush creeping onto her cheeks explained something entirely different. I kept that to myself in case Maki ever tormented me about Toge again.

“You’re fast, but your punches are pulled.” Yuta stated confidently with a small chuckle. I grimaced, noticing the gazes of our peers on the sidelines.

“Im not pulling punches, Yuta! You have a katana.” He shrugged, throwing it to me.

“Now you have a katana. Let’s see if we can fight evenly now.” I glared at him, readying myself for the next battle.

I completely willed my cursed energy to my core as Toge had instructed. I felt it flow through my body, pulse in my veins. I figured the only way to wield a weapon with zero cursed energy would be to use my own, I allowed it to flow into the wooden katana all at once, pushing as hard as I could to focus the energy. I saw Yuji give me a thumbs up from the sidelines.

Yuta now had Maki’s staff in his hands. She was standing awkwardly beside Panda with no explanation. I knew she must have given it to him.

He threw the first attack, nearly sweeping my legs out from under me. I had been distracted and he had used this to his advantage. I stood completely, dodging his next move with ease. Our weapons were crossed, and I pushed him further back, causing him to falter and stumble slightly.

“Fast and strong, I see.” I didn’t bother responding, only pushing further into battle.

I swiped at him with the katana. He narrowly blocked before twirling the staff. I blocked with my forearm, allowing the sting to flow through me and create more cursed energy. I focused it all into the katana, swinging at the arm that held the staff. My eyes widened.

The wooden katana had shattered as he easily blocked the blow and knocked me from my feet. He poked my forehead with the staff before offering me a hand that I reluctantly took to stand up once again.

“When focusing cursed energy into a weapon as you have just done, it can be vital to succeed; however, when done too hastily and forcefully, it will cause damage to you rather than your opponent.” He spoke clearly as if he had had experience. I nodded, taking note.

“So, by pushing cursed energy gradually, it will be more effective.” He smiled.

“Correct.”

We had met the others on the sidelines, allowing for criticism on both ends of our fight. Toge took my hand, sizing me up for any injuries that might need tending to. He smiled down at me before tugging his scarf back up to hide his markings once more.

“Salmon.” He stated, congratulating my progress as he always did. It was my turn to smile at him this time.

“I still have much to learn, Toge.” He nodded in agreement.

So much to learn and so little time to do so. Gojo had informed me early this morning after a night of celebration that the group had returned safely that I was to go on my first mission today. I had finally spent the night in my room again, too scared to sleep but too scared to call for Toge. Yuji had checked on me a few times, which I was grateful for, but it didn’t help the sleepless night that I endured. Now I was to go on a mission?

“You will be accompanied by Fushiguro, mostly to spectate you in case the time is of need, but accompanying you nonetheless.” I nodded blankly, his words barely registering.

Now, we were being sent to an abandoned school on the outskirts of Tokyo. I had never even heard the name before, surprisingly. I suppose it had been cursed for some time now.

Ijichi drove us to the spot, lowing the veil and wishing us luck. He didn’t speak much I had come to realize, but a colleague regardless. Besides, that made things easier on me.

“The spirit is possibly a low grade 3, I doubt it will give you any trouble considering your skills, y/l/n”. He had said to me beforehand. Megumi had listened in, taking in the debrief with open ears. He didn’t speak much either.

We slowly walked into the horrifying building. Graffiti covered the gates and the outside walls.

“Kids must hang around this place a lot.” Megumi noted. “Be on the lookout for innocents.” I nodded, keeping my weary eyes as peeled as possible.

Our footsteps echoed in the hallways, they seemed to stretch for miles. I had decided to sweep the second floor myself, keeping Megumi to the first floor. I figured we’d get more done that way.

“If you see anything, don’t immediately attack unless you know for utmost certainty that you can handle it by yourself.” He kept his voice low, but it was still lethal.

“I’ll be ready.” He nodded, continuing down the hallway as I ascended up the rickety stairway.

Every little noise I heard made me jump. Fear brimmed my senses, sending my pulse into fight or flight. A rat scurried across the floor with a squeak, causing me to almost lose balance.

Pull yourself together, y/n. It’s just a mouse.

I heard a growl from somewhere in front of me. It sounded hungry, needy. Almost immediately, I felt the presence of whatever cursed spirit lied beneath the folds of darkness that blanketed the hall. I heard slow footsteps followed by a small chuckle. A cold chill traced my spine.

Disobeying every intelligent cell in my body, I walked further into the darkness. The hum of cursed energy released itself upon me. I focused it, sending it throughout my body. I unsheathed my katana, remembering my training with Yuta yesterday. My muscles still ached even after.

Though I could see nothing, I could feel the direction the spirit was. Its cursed energy seemed to be the strongest inside one of the classrooms. Reluctantly, I opened the door, whirling around for any immediate dangers.

I can see nothing here.

I heard another soft chuckle followed by a bellowing groan. The sound of saliva hitting the floor woke me from my internal slumber. I felt my organs rearranging themselves as my eyes darted to the corner of the room to be met with an ugly, humanoid being like the one that had entered my room all those nights ago. My fear overtook my emotions. My heart plummeted quickly, feeling every muscle in my body tense as the thing lunged for me.

I instantly threw myself into battle, swiping my katana and trying my best to focus my energy at the same time while my fear seemed to control my movements. I couldn’t let my instincts take over, as if something was holding me back.

“Don’t be afraid, little one. I don’t bite.” It cooed before lunging itself at me once more. I swung the katana with force, starting to regain control of my muscles again. I smiled lightly at the beast.

“I don’t know this fear in which you speak of, I’d like to meet them someday.” I said with a chuckle, slicing into the arm of the beast. It screamed loudly, probably alerting any bystanders of its presence.

It slashed its claws angrily, trying its best to regain the upper hand. My smile had grown ferocious, my cursed energy pounding within my veins. I focused it gradually in the katana as Yuta had told me to. I was starting to enjoy this.

My instincts had started to kick in. I dodged every attack with minimal effort. It hissed and screamed and wailed as I continued to wear it down. A slash to the arm, a cut limb, an elbow to the face. My cursed energy poured through my body, hounding the spirit with no trouble at all.

“You don’t know fear, yet you tremble where you stand.” It mocked me. “It’s so strong I can almost taste it.” I smirked, twirling my katana from my back and readying myself once more for an unpredicted lunge. I stared into its black eyes, feeling the void within. I felt the anger, the urge to kill on instinct. It welled within the spirit, overriding every other emotion. Ichiji had awoken it from its slumber with the veil, the only thing it wished to do was reside happily inside the haunting school. I spat at its feet.

“Is that why you’re bleeding and there isn’t even a scratch on me?” I laughed at it, mocking its very existence. “I’ll allow you to go back to sleep if you’d like. Though, this privilege will be much more permanent.” It attempted to attack, but I easily countered. I had started to lose myself in the bloodthirsty rage that was cursed sorcery. I laughed as I cut through its chest, into the place where its heart should have been. I pulled my sword free, watching it fall to the ground with a thump.

It was still alive, but only at my mercy. I heard its jagged cries, I felt every welled emotion releasing itself into my mind relentlessly. I saw my own death once again flashing behind my lids every time I blinked. It’s hot blood dripped from my blade.

“How does it feel to sleep?” I asked it, beckoning it to answer to me. It growled, looking up at me with a malicious grin.

“I’ll never be able to answer you that. I’ll only be reborn once more. This time, I’ll be stronger, and your life will mean nothing-“

I had placed my hand on its head, gripping it hard enough to bruise. It winced, baring its jagged teeth. I laughed again.

I felt the energy within it decreasing as well as its malicious emotions. They seeped into my skin as the beast had started dissipating. I heard rushed footsteps from down the hall.

“Y/n!” Megumi called in terror. His eyes grew large at the sight unfolding before him.

I gripped harder, feeling its life drain into the palm of my hand in the shape of a bronze orb that was colored like the spirits skin. It whirled and buzzed within my grasp. Megumi tried to run to me, but his muscles wouldn’t move.

It felt as though I weren’t myself, as if I was spectating and watching whoever was controlling my body. Without a second thought, I shoved the orb into my mouth, swallowing it whole.

“Y/n?” Megumi had frozen in shock. He had no idea what he had witnessed, and truth be told, neither did I. Before I could answer, I dropped to my knees. I was shaking violently. The aftertaste in my mouth tasted like death itself, the taste alone making me gag and wail. I felt a tear fall from my eye.

“Are you okay?” Megumi asked, rushing towards me. “What the hell did you expect it to taste like!?” I ignored his comment, not able to speak anyway. My cursed energy had felt stronger, lighter. My senses felt almost heightened as I stared up at Megumi, who was also trying to make sense of whatever the hell was happening.

“Did I really swallow that thing?” I asked, finally regaining my ability to move without throwing up. He gasped.

“Did you not intend to?!” He shouted, frustrated. I felt sorry for him.

“Not exactly.” I stated, standing and dusting myself off. Blood that wasn’t my own coated my new uniform.

We walked out together. I noticed Megumi looked roughed up a little, I suppose he had encountered a spirit of his own. Ijichi didn’t say a word as the veil was lifted and we drove back to the school.

Inumaki was pacing his room, not wanting to train with the others today. He had blocked all possibilities of something happening to you out of his mind just to keep himself sane. He hadn’t known you for long, and he didn’t exactly know how he already worried so strongly for you; but he did know you were a lot like Yuta. He knew your past wasn’t the best, he knew some of the things you struggled with, and he also knew that you had just learned many things about your family and your history that probably didn’t sit well with you. Not to mention, you hadn’t stayed with him the night before, and he hadn’t been able to see you before you left.

He heard a knock from the outside of his room, and without thinking he immediately opened the door. Gojo was standing there.

“Fushiguro and Y/l/n have returned, I figured you’d want to know. The others are making their way down as we speak-“ without uttering a word or letting Gojo finish, he pushed past him and started sprinting towards the main entrance. He had to make sure you were okay.

Gojo chuckled, watching the lovestruck boy run after the girl he didn’t even realize he loved.

I stood at the gate, Megumi beside me as Ijichi drove the car around to park. God knows how long it’s really been since we left, and I felt the weight of my lids drooping with every movement. I glanced around at the school that was shaded in orange from the setting sun. Had it been all day? I figured it would’ve taken longer than that.

Without warning, I was tackled in a bone crushing hug. I looked over, surprised to see the platinum blonde boy squeezing me to death. He pulled away quickly, eyes growing wild at the blood staining my uniform. He grabbed my hand and instantly started running back inside. I had no choice but to follow behind him, my entire body aching with each movement. He didn’t slow his pace until we reached what I knew to be rather familiar: the infirmary.

“Tuna, tuna!” He said, his lungs struggling for air. I looked at him, feeling his every crazed emotion. Had he forgotten to put up a mental shield?

Shoko looked me up and down, inspecting my entire body. I felt like I was being judged, I didn’t like this. I flushed.

“I don’t see anything wrong with her, Inumaki. Is everything alright?” He bowed to her slightly in thanks.

“Bonito flakes.” He said simply. I gave Shoko an apologetic smile.

“I’m not really sure, either honestly.” I said, still shaken from the soul I had absorbed. She noticed me stifle a gag at the thought, though she didn’t mention it.

Gojo walked in behind us with Megumi, who seemed to be slightly injured himself.

“You forgot the injured one, Inumaki.” He stated with a small smirk. I rolled my eyes, knowing what he was thinking. He turned his attention to me. “I believe we have some things to discuss?” I nodded, expecting fully for Megumi to mention something about what he had witnessed. He sent me an apologetic look to which I smiled back.

Gojo led me out of the room, leaving Inumaki pacing the hallway as I stood in Gojo’s ‘office’ once more.

“Did you really swallow it?” He asked me, no humor sweeping his tone whatsoever. He was dead serious. I felt the tension in the room rise significantly.

“Yes.” I stated simply. “I’m not even fully aware of why I did something like that. I didn’t feel completely in control. I was sort of living off instincts purely.” He nodded.

“Fushiguro mentioned that, too. Though, you don’t even have a scratch on you, and I’m certain that was at least a semi grade one cursed spirit. You spoke to it?” I shrugged.

“We had a conversation, yes.” He hummed.

“The fact that it not only could understand your Japanese, it could also form sentences that you could understand as well, is utterly terrifying to me.” He stated before continuing. “Though, something else is also concerning me quite a bit.” He started.

I tilted my head slightly, not exactly sure what he was leading into.

“Why did Inumaki tackle you?” His grin grew wider and wider as a blush grew on his cheeks. I scowled, pointing at him.

“Now isn’t the time for that, Gojo!” I yelled, walking for the door. He continued to giggle.

“Keep living in denial, y/l/n!” And I continued out of the room without another word. Toge was waiting outside with a small blush tinting his cheeks. He must have heard Gojo’s teasing.

Despite the excitement of today, I was absolutely exhausted. Toge grabbed my hand, sensing my exhaustion, and led me to my room. I didn’t even bother changing, I just flopped onto the bed while Inumaki sat at my feet. He kept eyeing me, as if still worried something was wrong with me. I sent him a questioning glance, he pulled out his phone and started typing once again.

“Are you feeling okay?” The robotic voice of his phone said. I nodded slowly with a small smile, motioning for him to unzip his collar. He did so hesitantly, giving me a shy smile.

I sat up straight, wrapping my arms around him. He flushed slightly and his muscles tensed before easing into my embrace.

“I’m fine, Toge. I promise. I’m just exhausted. I didn’t really sleep last night.” He coughed lightly before typing again.

“Why didn’t you come get me?” His phone spoke again. I chuckled.

“I didn’t want to be a bother to you anymore than I was.” He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. His touch was gentle, caring.

“Never.” He muttered. His voice never ceased to make my heart melt, no matter how much he spoke.

He kissed me softly before pulling away just as quickly. Neither of us were aware of what we were now, but we both knew we liked this. My face was a mess, I wanted more but I was exhausted.

I buried my face in his shoulder, feeling his heart beat faster. His warmth comforted me, his touch slowed my anxiety.

I fell asleep thinking about Toge once again, erasing the gruesome sight I had been forced to play in only hours before.

Sorry this one’s so short! A lot has been going on recently 🥲

Tag list: @grilledbananas @sillygoose3082

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Kinktober Day 31: Free Space

pairing: college!aaron hotchner x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, SMOKING KINK, unprotected sex, pet names, hotch being a tease

wc: 645

an: for @hotchs-bitch, who is one of the funniest, craziest and sweetest people on this planet. thank you for everyone who’s interacted with, commented on, and reblogged my kinktober stuff. being able to actually stick to this was a big deal for me so i appreciate it. thank you to my lovely friend @flightlessangelwings for the list this year ❤️

kinktober masterlist | cm masterlist

“Open,” Hotch says firmly, his fingers squeezing your chin where it's in his grasp.

You’re in his lap, grinding against his thigh though his cock is right there, hard and clearly begging to be inside you. But, Hotch likes the long game. He likes to make you needy, likes to watch your writhe and beg until neither of you can take it anymore.

Tonight is no different. He’s been making you watch him smoke for what feels like an eternity now, nonchalantly watching you through the haze as you grow more and more desperate. Your eyes have been zeroed in on his mouth, watching the way his lips mold around the cigarette, how they blow out the smoke. You know that it’s bad for him, but there’s no denying how sexy he looks with a cigarette.

You obey eagerly, opening your mouth and leaning into his touch, ready for whatever he would give you. With nimble fingers he removes the cigarette from his lips, flipping it around and placing the end in your mouth. “Close,” He instructs.

And just like any other command he has ever given you, you quickly do as he says.

“Good girl, now I want you to hold that steady while I sit you on my cock,” He murmurs, hands kneading at your hips.

You nod, hips lifting into his hand as you squeeze your lips together, ensuring the cigarette won’t budge. Your attempt is futile when he lowers you down onto his cock, the stretch causing your mouth to fall open to let out the softest sweetest moan. It’d be music to his ears if he hadn’t given you such a specific task.

“Steady,” He reminds you, his mouth pulled up into a smirk at the way your mouth has started to go slack.

“Aaron, I’m trying,” You whine around the cigarette, gasping when he guides you further down on his cock.

“You can do it, you’ve almost got all of it. Just a little more,” He praises, sweat beading on his brow as he finally brings your thighs flush to his own. “That’s it, steady. Good girl, you feel so good.”

He’s so deep this way, pressing against the most sensitive spot inside of you. It takes everything in you not to moan again, knowing that if you did the cigarette would fall out of your mouth.

“Ride me,” He whispers, guiding your hips up and down.

Your hands come to grasp his shoulders for leverage, helping you raise your hips until there’s nothing but the tip of him inside you so that you can take him completely again and again and again. Aaron watches you with hooded eyes, his chest heaving as he grows closer to his end.

“C-can’t, can’t keep it steady like this,” You warn him, feeling your own orgasm looming over you like a cloud.

“Forget it, honey,” He reaches up, snatching the cigarette out of your mouth, putting it out in the astray that’s to his left with grace.

You don’t know why, but the action, so mundane and casual while you bounce on his cock is what sends you over the edge. His eyes go wide with surprise as he feels you clench around him. He sputters a warning before cumming, stilling your rocking hips.

He raises a brow at you playfully, “Putting out a cigarette?”

“Leave me alone,” You quip, burying your head in the crook of his neck.

He kisses at your temple, guiding you back to look at you, “What? I thought it was sweet.”

“Stop talking Hotchner.”

“Only if you shut me up with a kiss.”

You roll your eyes, but lean in, cupping his face as you kiss him. He melts against you, kissing you back eagerly as he hums into your mouth. And with the skilled work of his tongue, you’ve forgotten his teasing in no time.

hotch taglist: @honeybrowne, @hotchs-bitch, @pastanoodles11, @stevengrcnt, @greg-montgomery, @lesbianhotch, @rousethemouse, @flightlessangelwings, @hotchsdharma, @maisondenachtai, @silversprings-mp3, @callm3c0nfus3d, @ilikefictionalmen

[forsworned]

hi zizi! i ADORE your hesh content <3

i need to know your thoughts about what husband!hesh is like on his wedding night. do you think he’d wait until marriage or not? if not, what would he do to make your first time as husband and wife special??

Author's note: HI CHERRYYYYY thank you for the sweet words ;-; but here's what I think about how Heshy would be on your wedding night and how he would make you time with him as special as can be, bonus I added some wedding stuff too

HUSBAND HESH HEADCANONS ON YOUR WEDDING NIGHT & HONEYMOON

WARNING THERE IS NSFW CONTENT IN THIS!!

Knowing how much of a sweetheart Hesh is, he'd do whatever it is that you wanted with absolutely zero pressure

He just wants you as comfortable as possible whether you choose to have sex before or after marriage, or if you even want to have sex on your wedding night

Hesh is SOOOOO nervous, like this man is sweating bullets when he's standing at the alter and all the Ghosts are trying their best not to snicker at him

Of course, Logan is his best man while Keegan, Merrick, Ajax's Ghost, and Kick are his loyal groomsmen and they're all hyping him up

Even Riley has a special place beside him with a little bowtie

When you're walking down the aisle, Hesh just fucking loses it. Like he is legit sobbing because of how fucking stunning you are. You are the light of his life and the way that the sunlight was shining down on you as you're walking toward him, arm in arm with your father makes you look like a real life angel

And don't even get me started on the wedding vows, you guys are legitimately blubbering over one another with the most love dovey mushy bs that sends everyone into tears and sniffles

When he's finally given the go to kiss you, the man just has to do the class dip and kiss, carrying you down the aisle bridal style

Ugh and the first dance is so fucking adorable, my mans is holding you TIGHT, twirling you around the princess you are

He is just in constant awe at your beauty, cuz baby you are a fucking stunner

So getting to the good part now shall we, your wedding night is, of course, as romantic as can be.

He's taking you to the Mediterranean where theres loads of sun and pretty blue water duhhh (my mans is tryna get his tan on)

He totally tans so well too like he legit looks like a greek god when he's all bronzed up with those pretty green eyes FUCK

Anyways after the festivities you're both so worn out, still in your clothes as you climb into bed but he's convincing you to stay up

He prepares a bath and it's intimate as hell, from the scent of warm vanilla and ginger candles, to the sudsy-ness of the water to the way he is propped up behind you massaging your muscles and kissing your neck. It gets steamy to say the least.

But Hesh paces himself, he doesn't want to have it all at once. He loves teasing you, getting all riled up as gently kneads into you skin purposefully skimming over your erogenous zones.

Like he's so close to thumbing over your nipples but he doesn't or he's taunting your opening by only touching your inner thighs

It isn't until you're whining that he's chuckling against your skin and asking if you'd like to move to the bedroom

Of course, you say fuck yes, because how the hell are you gonna say no to that face

Like he's taking it slow, keeping his hands above your waist until you instruct him to do more

It's more with your hands tugging at his own to touch your sensitive spots and lithe moans than it is with your words and he's obliging as he lifts you to the bed and gently lays you back

Your bodies are both still a bit damp from the bath, lips never leaving one another's but then his lips are on your neck and sucking your earlobe and you're fucking losing it

And don't get me fucking started on he starts to go down on you!!!

It's a gentle tease, first upon your breasts as he sucks and nips at your buds and then it's his thumb skimming over your clit as you whimper under his touch but he's so needy for your taste

And when I tell you this man's eye contact is crazy intense, ahhhhhhhhhhh

He fucking loves watching you as he devouring your sopping wet pussy, humming at your clit as he's spitting all over your folds

You're literally coming in seconds and he loves overstimulating you a bit until your wriggling out of his grip

And this man is smirking down at you lickin his lips and shit while you're panting trying to catch your breath as you reach out for him and start to pump him

He can't help but roll his eyes are your heavenly touch and your just begging him to fuck you

And he's almost about to but you're suddenly sitting up and crawling toward him, lips around his frenulum and his fingers are tangling into your hair

But he's pushing back down and rubbing himself against your velvety folds and your arching your back, aching for him to fill you up

And you know him, he will literally oblige to any request of yours

The feeling of his girthy cock just slipping into your drippy cunt is enough to make you both gasp and hold onto each other

It's passionate as fuck as he holds you down in missionary, getting all sorts of angles and he knew that he should be flipping you into all sorts of positions

But fucking hell its so hot watching you under him, pleading for him to not stop thrusting into you as you claw into in his back and grip his biceps

He loves the heavy eye contact and the occasional smile and laugh slips out of your lips because it's so damn hot that way you want each other so bad

And Hesh is always finding that sweet spot when he angles his hips just right and then he drives you over the edge as he swipes his tongue over his thumb and circles over your clit

When I tell you this man gives you the most toe curling, spine shuddering, euphoric inducing orgasm

Like holy fuck and he can't even go on for much longer because he's cumming soon after you

Fucking his cum into you as he kissing you so passionately and then he slowly glides out of you, pussy still pulsating against his cock and he's admiring his handiwork

Creampies are his favorite past time with you

And then he's giving you the best aftercare, holding you close in his arms and kissing you all over your face

Telling you how you're the most beautiful bride and how angelic you looked

And gosh he really knows how to make a woman feel special because now you're crying and that makes him cry and you're both wiping away each other's tears

"I'm not crying, you're crying." over and over again to one another as you start to laugh

You legit fall asleep with your fingers intertwined and it's so so so sweet awwwww

And when you wake up it's followed by morning sex and room service

Like this man loves making you cum and will not stop until you're satisfied its soooo hot

But anyways your first actual day as husband and wife is full of intermittent sex and honestly some of it is pretty public and moreso you're idea

You're pulling him into alleyways and hiking up your skirt so he can have access to your pussy and he can't even deny how hot it is when he's covering your mouth and stuffing his cock deep into you, strangers not completely unaware of your scandalous presence

Lowkey poor Hesh because mans just wants to do innocent stuff like get couples massages and going mudding together which you do do but he’s not stopping the little sexual escapades alongside the cute honeymoon he had planned out

His favorite thing to do at the beach is go looking for beach fossils and seashells so that's what you spend your morning doing

And then he's taking you sailboating and he has his arms around you while he's single-handing the boat as the sea breeze whips past you both til the sun begins to set

When it's night he's honestly the type to want to go to a tiki bar and one minute you’re enjoying each other's company and he says he needs to use the bathroom and you’re looking at your watch getting a little worried for the man

But then you turn around and he’s in the middle of a conga line and you simply have to whip your phone out to record and send to your new brother-inlaw, Logan

To which Logan would definitely send to the Ghosts group chat and they're all roasting tf out of him

And then suddenly you're getting pulled in for a dance and Hesh is such a sloppy, sweet drunk just telling you how beautiful you are

Of course, he has to end the night in a cabana under the stars and he's telling you all about the constellations and shit because he and Logan were boy scouts for years

And then he suddenly points to a star and he's like, you see that star right there, sweetheart?

And you're like, yeah what about it? lowkey you're melting at how he calls you sweetheart

And he's pulling out a certificate of the star he bought for you and named after you

And my God when I tell you the way you start bawling crying makes him cry like Hesh is so emotional idc idc idc what anyone says

He's such a softie especially for you his WIFE

Needless to say you're fuckin nasty under the stars and you're proud to be called Mrs. Walker

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Yes Mama Chapter 3

Summary:  Bucky Barnes has made quite the name for himself in the underground mob boss world.  But he’s not the boss.  Just the face of the Family.  

Warnings:  violence, subtle mention of drugs, murder, language, possessiveness, smut, mild choking, public sex

Kids: oldest (from Steve) Frankie 12, second (from Tony) Antonia 10, third (from T’Challa) Uuka 8, fourth (from Bucky) Beau 6, fifth (from Bucky) Lottie 5, sixth (from Bucky) Valentina 3

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Something was wrong.  Shipments were going missing.  Weapons disappearing.  And any operations or meetings they had planned kept being interrupted by a police raid or presence.  Although Y/N had most of the state and local police force under her thumb, there were still a few gung ho prosecutors and officers who were trying to do the right thing that kept making life harder for them.  Y/N’s people had clocked that they were being followed, a small detail of undercover cops around every corner.  Bucky was investigating as best as he could, waiting for whoever the rat was to screw up and reveal themselves.  

They started giving out instructions that were different from person to person in Y/N’s inner circle.  All the lower level “employees” wouldn’t know some of the in depth things that had happened, so Bucky suggested setting up traps.  They were zeroing in on who it was day by day, until their last two people were in position.  They were followed by Y/N’s best spies, and finally, after what felt like months of confusion, distrust and surveillance, they had him.

“No,” Y/N shook her head as Bucky relayed the news.  Her eyes watered and her brow furrowed deeply as she frowned.  “No, not…not Johnny,” she breathed, her voice wobbling as her emotions overcame her.

Bucky nodded sadly.  He personally was never a big fan of John Walker.  John was always vying for a special relationship with Y/N like Bucky had, but he had always been a good part of the Family.  And yet here he was, working as an informant to the FBI, leaking information about Y/N and the Family to them.  She stumbled back onto their bed and Bucky quickly stepped forward, kneeling in front of her as she hung her head in her hands.  “I’m sorry, Mama,” he said, his hands gripping her wrists and pulling her hands away from her face.  “I’m so sorry.”

“Where is he?” she asked, a venom leaking into her voice that always scared him.  It was rare to hear it, but when he did, it meant death was coming.

“Downstairs,” Bucky answered, his eyes minutely widening.

“The kids?”

“At the second house with the nannies.”

“Good,” she said, her eyes closing as she breathed evenly.  Her face twisted to a stony expression.  “Let’s go.”

Bucky nodded and stood quickly with her as she got up and walked out of their room.  He followed her to the house elevator that led into the basement, then they walked through a secret door that led to a lower basement to the same room he’d killed other rats in.  Her inner circle were all there, each of them having taken a turn in beating John until he was bloody, swollen and bruised.  He looked up at Y/N and Bucky when they walked in and tugged against the restraints that tied him to the wall.  “Mama!  Mama please!  I’m sorry!”

Y/N moved forward at lightning speed and let out a guttural scream as she slapped him across the face as hard as she could.  John cried out in pain as his head whipped to the side.  “You fucker!” she spat, her voice low and gravelly.  “You son of a bitch.  All I do is care about you, take care of you, and those you love, and this is how you repay me?!”  She slapped him with the opposite hand, making his head whip to the other side.  “Why?  Huh?  Why would you do this to me?  Making me have to spy on people I love and care about,” she gestured to everyone else in the room, “making me question my trust in others, in their loyalty.  Putting others at risk.  After all I’ve done for you.  The chances I’ve given, the opportunities, the home, the family, all of it!  WHY?!”

“Because of Lemar!” he screamed back.

Bucky shut his eyes and shook his head.  Lemar was John’s best friend, and John had vouched for him to work for Y/N.  At first Lemar had been a great addition to the Family, but his old army, do-gooder mentality came back to haunt his conscience, and he’d tried stopping Y/N’s operations as she was making a huge merger with an up and coming organization, nearly jeopardizing everything.  Bucky had never seen her so livid, and she had given Lemar the full measure of her wrath that day, then killed him.  She didn’t kill often, but when she did it was personal.  

Y/N’s head tilted sharply as she stared at John.  “Lemar,” she scoffed.  “You know how this works Johnny, and he was well aware of the consequences of his actions.  As are you,” she stepped forward and leaned down in front of him, then gripped his face tightly and made him look at her.  John winced at the look she gave him.  

“I know, Mama.  But you didn’t have to kill him like that.  He didn’t deserve that.”

“He deserved every…fucking…bit of it,” Y/N snarled.  She looked him over, then shook her head as her emotions got the better of her and her eyes filled with tears again, her lips trembling.  “Now I gotta kill you, you bastard.  How am I supposed to look your parents in the face, knowing their son was a traitor and I had to kill him?”

John’s eyes widened and he inhaled shakily.  “Please, Mama.”

“They won’t suffer for your sins,” Y/N said quietly, and she sniffled as her tears fell.  “I always take care of mine.  But you,” she paused, her grip tightening on his face and her voice wobbling, “are not my Family.”  John was crying as he watched her, and minutely nodded his head in sad understanding.  Y/N shoved his face away and stood up straight.  She took a step back and then held out her hand towards Bucky.  He pulled out her gun from his other side holster opposite his, loaded it with one bullet, and handed it to her.  Y/N took hold of it, unlocked the safety and pointed it at John’s head.  “Last words,” she demanded.

John shook his head.  “I’m sorry Mama, I love you.”

Y/N’s face twisted in pain, her tears flowing even heavier.  “No, you don’t,” she whispered, then shot him.  John’s body crumpled strangely to the floor.  There was silence as Y/N’s arm dropped and she stared at his dead body.  She silently handed the gun back to Bucky, who quickly holstered it, watching her carefully.  Then she leaned forward, her hands on her knees as she cried heavily, deep, body-wracking sobs and wails flying from her mouth.  Bucky walked up to her to try and hold her but she pushed him away.  She sharply turned to the people in the room, the people who she loved and trusted the most.  “Do you love me?” she pointed at Wanda, one of her long time friends from her childhood.

“Yes, Mama,” Wanda immediately answered, her own tears falling at Y/N’s pain.  

“Do you love me?” she demanded, pointing at Wanda’s brother Pietro.

“Yes, Mama,” he nodded.  “You and Wanda are my family.”

Everyone else in the room all agreed, nodding and vocally affirming their love and support for her and the Family.  Y/N kept crying as she looked at each of them.  “You’re with me?” she asked the room.

“Yes, Mama,” they all said in unison.  

She turned and looked at Bucky.  “Till the end of the line,” he said quietly.

Y/N closed her eyes and hung her head.  “You all know I love you, right?”

“Yes, Mama.”

Y/N inhaled and exhaled deeply.  “Thank you,” she whispered.  “Clean this up…please.”  She started for the door but was interrupted by each person walking up and hugging her tightly.  Once they’d all had a turn they quickly started cleaning.  Y/N walked toward the door with Bucky right on her heels.  She made it back to their room, and the second Bucky closed the door behind himself she cried loudly again, falling to her knees on the floor.  He quickly joined her on the floor, wrapping his arms around her and holding her in his lap.  He stroked her hair, wiping her tears as he whispered reassuring words in her ear.

Y/N’s hands were gripping his shirt tightly, her tears soaking his collar.  She sniffled and wiped her face before pulling away to look at him.  “Why does this keep happening?” she whispered.

“He was a traitor, Y/N.  A rat is a rat.  None of this is your fault,” Bucky said, cupping her cheeks and kissing under her eyes.  

“Don’t I love my Family?” she asked, looking at him imploringly.  “Don’t I take care of what’s mine?  Why is it never enough?”  She shook her head and shut her eyes tight.  “I know I love hard.  I wear my heart on my sleeve, which is ridiculous in this line of work.  But isn’t it better to be loved than feared?”  

Bucky shook his head.  “You are loved and feared, Mama.  You can have both, be both.  You’re too big to only be one or the other.  You are loved because you are so feared, and you are feared because you’re so loved.  Like the perfect storm.  Do you hear me?” he asked, shaking her face in his hands to make her look at him.  “You’re my perfect storm.  Don’t let the idiocy of a few let you think any less of yourself,” he said, kissing all over her face.  

Y/N sighed as he held her and loved on her.  “Are you afraid of me?” she asked.

Bucky huffed a silent laugh against her cheek.  “Sometimes,” he smiled.

Y/N smiled at him.  “Thank you, babydoll.  I’m sorry I let my emotions get the best of me.”

“Don’t ever apologize for being a fucking human being,” Bucky said, kissing her lips quickly.  

Y/N sniffed and wiped her face, giving him a sheepish smile.  “You shouldn’t have to kiss me when I’m all gross and snotty.  Let me clean up–”

Bucky kissed her deeply.  “I’ll kiss you any and every way I can,” he said, kissing the lines of tears that still fell from the sides of her eyes.  “Though if you wanna clean up, I can help with that,” he smirked suggestively.

Y/N’s smirk came back, her eyebrow arching at him.  “Oh yeah?” she asked quietly.

Bucky nodded.  “Let me take care of you, Mama.”

Y/N sighed, her smirk turning into an adoring smile.  “Okay, babydoll.”

[maple-the-awesome]

We'll Meet Again...I Know When || Chapter 34

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN Reader

Words: 4,061

Overview: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinished business, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.

Series Masterlist 🤎 Marvel Masterlist 🤎 Fandom Masterlist

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: DEARLY DEPARTED

Well fed and partially rested, your quartet makes their way down the windy cobblestone streets of Latvia. There’s an uneventful silence that follows throughout most of the walk - that is, between Zemo’s unprompted compliments of the local architecture and Bucky’s grumbled skepticism regarding your sense of direction.

If it were earlier in the day, you’d likely snap at his doubt, but fortunately for him in this moment, your previous interaction with those children at the refugee enclave and the short nap you took afterwards had smoothened out your mood. Thus, you simply shoo away his queries with confident assurances and only a dash of frustration. You were a scientist in your past life, of course you can follow Google Map instructions!

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you to be pulling shit like this!”

“Lord give me strength…” Sam grumbles, that once bearable half-silence officially soured by an uninvited fifth-wheel.

With a raised eyebrow, you look up from your phone and follow Sam’s irritated gaze to its source: none other than the same Captain America impersonator you've already heard a great deal of complaints about. You can't say you've been particularly excited to meet him, not too fond of there being a government-issued replacement for your dear friend in the first place, and judging on how swiftly he approaches with zealous coating his every step and spoken word, you don't have much confidence in this introduction changing your expectations.

"How'd you find us this time, John?!" Bucky asks sarcastically, his question having an impressive balance between its volume and lackadaisical delivery.

"You think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without being noticed?" Walker's partner counters, yet the spotlight is immediately switched back to John who shows zero shame in marching directly towards your group with a smile that's seconds away from becoming a scowl as he points to Zemo.

"No more keeping us in the dark. You can start by telling us why the hell you broke him out of prison."

"Well technically, he broke himself out of prison," You correct, unfazed by John’s poor attempt at asserting authority here, in fact you have no problem blocking his path to Zemo by sliding in between them with a hand outstretched cheekily, "Hi, I’m (Y/n). Don't believe we've met."

"I don't really care who you are -"

"- Ouch -"

"- There better be an UNBELIEVABLE explanation for this because -!" John's voice raises. Pairing that with the way he talks while swinging his arms dramatically, you can't say you like the aggressive undertone behind his behavior, especially not for someone wearing the stolen merits of a real hero. You don't care how upset he is, it's not a very good look nor a great sign for his character, and you aren't the only one to think that:

"- Hey, take it down a notch before you attract a crowd, alright?" Sam warns, drawing attention to the civilians who have already stopped to stare at the scene. Some even have their phones out, excitedly snapping pictures of the new ‘Captain America’ and his Avenger 'friends'.

"I know where Karli is," Zemo confesses with little fanfare or interest for that matter, somewhat akin to a parent giving their child a cookie just to shut them up. He attempts to walk past after that, however John’s quick to push him back.

"Well, where is she then?"

"A memorial, that's all we know at the moment. We're heading there now to intercept her," Sam, desperate to maintain the peace, explains while Zemo brushes away John's touch to continue onwards anyway. The rest of you don't hesitate to follow, yet that doesn't stop John and his partner from taking this conversation to-go, keeping up with your steps as if a part of the team themselves. You won't be surprised if he truly believes that, either.

"Memorial? That means there'll be civilians and a high risk of casualties," His partner points out.

"We're not nuking the damn place with her inside," You insist, although you can at least respect that his priorities are in the right place, better tied to his job as a protector rather than his fragile ego. If only his buddy could follow by example, "Sam just wants to talk her and get her side of the story -"

"- What? No...No! Wait! Stop, hold on!" John suddenly rushes to the front of the group, once again preventing anyone from moving forward, "We're way past reasoning with her, okay? Unless you've forgotten this part, she's a terrorist. Her and her little friends blew up a building with people inside of it!"

"You're right. She is a terrorist which is exactly why we need to stop her as soon as possible."

John laughs as if you're the ones making this more complicated than it needs to be, "Alright! Then let's go in there and arrest her -"

"- If we rush in, arms drawn, and corner them like animals, what's stopping her from lashing out right that second?" You challenge, not faltering under his intense stare, "We need to approach this situation with strategy, and Sam's idea works. We go in, let him try talking to her while simultaneously keeping our guard up, and if she surrenders, then yay -"

"- And if she doesn't?"

"Then we kick her ass! I don't know! Have you not seen a hostage negotiation before? You know, ‘The Inside Man’? ‘The Negotiator’? Ever turn on the news maybe -?”

“- The bottom line is: there’s a risk in both scenarios whether we talk or attack first,” Sam steps forward, showing far more patience as he reminds John of his own presence in this discussion, “The difference is, in one, we have an actual shot at ending things peacefully. In the other, people get hurt regardless.

“Why not pick the former then? I'd say we have a pretty good chance with it, I mean, yeah, Karli’s methods are out of line - no one here’s trying to deny that - but her motivations aren't entirely unreasonable. For god’s sake, she's a kid who just had five years of her life flipped on top of her head - We all know how terrifying that can be. I think what she needs most right now is someone who's actually willing to hear her out without casting her aside with more broken promises.”

"It also might be worth mentioning that this memorial is for someone close to Karli, so it’ll likely be attended by others who are important to her, too," You add to aid Sam’s argument, "She's probably going to want to avoid endangering their lives just as much as we do."

"Right. Exactly!"

John shakes his head before turning his attention to Bucky who's remained silent throughout this entire discussion, "...You'll let him do this? You'll just let your partner walk into a room with a super soldier completely alone and defenseless?"

"He's dealt with worse - and he's not my partner."

"Sorry you weren't there, but we're the ones who went up against a murderous purple alien six months ago. I think Sam knows what he's doing," You roll your eyes, walking past John and his partner to continue up the street where you can already see a crowd entering what you assume to be the memorial building.

"I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay? I've heard it all - all the accounts of horrific ordeals and stories of lost hope. This is my wheelhouse," You can hear Sam say as he still attempts to reach an agreement.

"I know, and I know those soldiers which is why I say this is a bad idea -!”

"- Wait, John," His partner speaks up again, placing a hand on his shoulder to stop him from chasing after your group again, "If he can talk her down, maybe it is worth a try. They do have a point, after all; less people would get hurt if this works."

John scoffs as if he still finds the whole proposal ridiculous, however having his own colleague side with the Avengers must've taken him down some kind of peg, because rather than attempt to stop anyone, he trails behind your group, promising to 'deal with' Zemo later as a last ditch effort of securing at least a fraction of his authority (not that it accomplishes much).

Maintaininga safe distance from the crowd, you observe them file into the building through two heavy wooden doors. Tracing their exact steps by entering the funeral from the front would likely only draw unwanted attention which in return could risk Karli discovering your presence too soon, so a side door leading into the building’s boiler room is your best bet for an unnoticed arrival.

You’re careful to peek into the hallway, catching sight of the same funeral goers as they disappear behind a wall. Hearing the echo of mournful whispers, it can be assumed that the processions will take place right around that corner. If Sam sneaks in after they officially start, Karli won’t have a good opening to run unless she wants to ruin Donya’s celebrated memory. She’ll be forced to at least wait until after the memorial is finished, providing Sam a better chance at getting close enough to pull her ear.

"...You sure you're up for this?" You ask as he stands beside you at the door. His confident nod is all you need for an answer.

After reaching into your pocket, you hold your hand out to him with a small grain-sized microphone, courtesy of the high-tech equipment Clint had supplied you with years ago, “We’ll stay back here. If anything goes wrong or you start getting the heebie-jeebies for some reason, simply say the word and we’ll have John bust down the doors. I’m sure he’s been dying for some real action anyway, poor guy.”

Sam smirks at your joke, taking the microphone and dropping it in his breast pocket, "Hopefully it won't have to come down to that."

"Better safe than sorry," You shrug, not too overly worried for his sake. Sam has always been a laid-back guy willing to listen to even the most outrageous of stories. Assuming that Karli is even somewhat rational, he's the best guy to send in for a heart-to-heart with her. Even if shit does go wrong, you’re certain he’s capable of handling himself in the short amount of time it takes for back-up to arrive. The real question is whether John can keep his pants on for that long.

Before Sam can even ascend the stairs, John harshly grabs Zemo’s arm, bending it behind his back and forcing him against the furnace. His stern ‘orders’ are directed towards Sam, "You have exactly ten minutes until we do things my way, you hear?"

Sam, unsurprisingly, shows minimal interest in that threat, simply nodding to spare John’s feelings before sparing Bucky and you one last look, "Don't let anyone tear off each other's heads while I'm gone."

"No promises," Bucky ribs with an exasperated inhale.

With Sam gone, the boiler room falls into tense silence only made that way through John's increasingly impatient pacing. After a quick glance at each other, you allow Bucky to wordlessly take your place guarding the door, blocking the path Sam took as a wise precaution against John's irritability.

Lemar - as you finally learn his name is - calmly instructs his partner to take a deep breath, the two sharing a brief, whispered conversation that must not have ended in John's favor because his mood fails to change. Even Zemo, despite being forced to awkwardly stand while handcuffed to the furnace, seems more comfortable with his predicament than the paranoid soldier who constantly fidgets and huffs, not that it's making anyone sympathetic towards him.

He eventually sets his sights on you from where you sit on the back staircase, boredly listening in on the conversation that's echoed through your earpiece, "What are they saying?"

You barely blink at his demand nor do you so much as look up at him when he comes marching in your direction. Instead, you keep your jaded expression trained forward, "She's listening to him."

"That's not what I asked. I want to know what they’re saying!" You're not sure what he expects to gain by such an aggressive demeanor, but it's not going to work on you. Not caring to be bossed around or intimidated by some guy in a Spirit Halloween costume, you simply turn your head away from him, covering your ear piece with your hand to pretend you can’t hear it over all his needless blabbing.

"Watch it, John. It hasn't even been ten minutes. Just sit tight," Bucky advises from across the room, his narrowed eyes trained cautiously on John's movements which are too close to you for comfort. His suggestion goes ignored following a rapid shake of the head and disgruntled glare.

"Don't patronize me!"

"Karli's listening to him," You reiterate, already feeling drained of all your willpower to keep dealing with this sort of crap today, "She's not showing any signs of aggression, she's not threatening him -"

"- How would you know that? You're not in there watching. She could be planning something - buying herself and her terrorist friends some time! How's a guy like him supposed to defend himself against a super soldier, huh?"

"Look man, I understand that first days on the job are rough - We've all been there before - but you gotta relax. We know what we're doing, and so does Sam. He's already gone up against super soldiers more than once before. If he needs us, he'll call. In the meantime, our job is to sit quietly and wait."

John rolls his eyes, your words clearly having zero effect on his mental state. He then turns to check the clock hanging on the room’s wall. A more optimistic individual might have hoped this would confirm to him that Bucky is right and that his behavior is irrational, however instead, his quiet pause is just that - a very brief halt before he's spinning the direction of his march towards Bucky and the door with Lamar quickly standing to join him.

Bucky doesn't hesitate to push himself off the stair railing and stop John in his place with a stern hand, his narrowed eyes giving more warning than any words could.

This act is unsurprisingly met with greater frustration and a whisper through gritted teeth, “...It must be really easy for you, right? All that serum just coursing through your veins? Your friend is completely alone in there. You let him go in there with no weapons, no defense, no backup…Do you really want his blood added to your hands?”

Buckydoesn’t respond aloud, although there’s a subtle shift within his eyes. It’s only visible ever so briefly before being hidden by a quick tightening of the jaw, however it sinks deep with the sting of John’s words. It’s the sore ache of insecurity - the shallow doubt that maybe, just maybe, those low-blow claims could actually hold reason.

He wants nothing more than for this situation to end without a fight. God knows he’s had enough of those to last a lifetime. Talking Karli down would offer a peaceful resolution while risking less people’s safety, as Sam and you have said, but that all depends on whether she listens.

Bucky wants to trust Sam’s capabilities, both in gaining the enemy’s trust and defending himself when in a tight spot. Steve sure did, and so do you…yet at the same time, he just can’t seem to shake that memory of how easily the Winter Soldier was able to knock the breath from Sam’s stomach before tossing him like a mere paperweight…

You three are up against super soldiers - eight of them, to be precise, compared to your one. What if you're cornered? What if the Flag Smashers get Sam or you alone, too far from Bucky’s reach to stop the blow? John’s right about one thing: in that scenario, your blood would be on his hands; it’s still on his hands if he stands by to watch it flow…

There’s nothing more said between them as John bumps past Bucky with zero resistance faced. He’s completely free to ascend the stairs and escape into the hallway before you can even shoot up from your spot on the opposite side of the room.

“HEY -! What the HELL, Bucky?!” Why he’d let John past - Why he’d let those stupid weightless words get under his skin like that - You wish you had the time to properly chew him out over it, but you don’t.

“Stay with Zemo!” Catching John before he can ruin Sam’s progress has to be your priority, so much so that you can’t stop to address the way Bucky sighs your name as a half-hearted plea while following your shadow rather than your previous command. Grumbled disapproval is all you can spare in the moment which is promptly hit back in your direction through eye rolls and poor excuses that go in one ear then out the other.

Unfortunately, even at your racing pace (and Bucky’s jogging to match it), you’re too slow to prevent John from bursting into the room where the funeral must’ve been taking place, now long empty aside from Sam and Karli who both snap their direction towards him in shock.

“Karli Morgenthau, you’re under arrest!”

From there, the scene quickly turns to chaos…

“That’s what this was…? To keep me talking until your help arrived?” Whatever middle ground Sam had been carefully forging between himself and Karli is immediately shattered as she now begins backing away from him. He raises his hands, attempting to both reassure her and address John, yet the latter doesn’t let him get more than a few words out before being shut down in a snap.

“- You’ve had enough time to talk,” John declares, his sights set solely on an increasingly apprehensive Karli.

You try to follow after him, calling his name as a last ditch effort to prevent a nasty fight, however Lemar blocks your path from physically getting any closer. It’s nothing more than the slightest shove backwards, only forceful enough to make you reserve a step or two, although that doesn’t stop Bucky from instinctively steadying you with his hands upon your shoulders.

“Don’t -!” You can’t say you’ve ever heard Bucky growl with such venomous anger before. After days of acting as if your presence kills him - weeks of avoiding you like the plague and cutting you out of his life like it’s easy - all it takes is that one single action of someone else putting their hands on you to snap him into a state of fierce rage. One could argue that he just sees you as someone who can’t protect themself - a ‘liability’ as he had said in Madripoor - but would he really react in such a way for just anyone on his team?

He either takes an actual swing at Lemar from over your head or he only tries to push him away from you both - likely the latter given his tone and the way Lemar instantly protects his face with a flash of fear crossing it. You would’ve liked to see the end result so that you could log it in your mental library as a long-missed example of Bucky truly caring about you, however your attention is diverted away when Karli punches John.

Despite all his high talk earlier, he must not have prepared himself to face off with a real super soldier because the second Karli’s fist makes contact with Steve’s shield, John’s violently thrown backwards, catching a nearby Sam in the impact which results in them both hitting the table behind them and tumbling to the ground.

Deciding that this has gone far enough, you slip away from Lemar which is easier to accomplish now that he’s officially distracted between John’s injury and Bucky forcefully knocking him to the floor himself.

With one swift movement, you draw your taser out from your belt and turn it up to its highest setting while rushing Karli. She immediately notices you, bending her body back to avoid the blue glow of your baton. Once it buzzes by, she follows up with a fierce swing in your direction, but this isn't your first rodeo. Between your encounters with a brainwashed Bucky and some sparring training you've done alongside other Avengers, you'd say you're somewhat decent at knowing what to expect when going up against super humans.

Thus, utilizing practiced speed, you duck to dodge her fist, spinning your weapon in hand so that, by the time you pop back up again with a bounce to your step, it's facing forward and prepared to be immediately thrust towards her, the baton's fork stabbing her shoulder blade.

Thank goodness Clint didn't supply you with just any kind of mediocre taser. Rather than deliver a tiny 'zap' to cause inconvenient discomfort lasting a millisecond, it bites with a brutal 'crackle' that has Karli's knees buckling and her pain expressed through loud, stammered cries. Nothing that will kill her, of course, but you doubt she'll be able to feel the sensors in her finger tips for a few minutes after her recovery.

At this point, Bucky’s approaching from behind and even Sam’s already stumbling up to his feet, using the table beside him as a crutch to -

- Karli sees the same sight as you, however for her, it's not so reassuring. Too stubborn to accept surrender, she grinds her teeth and gathers the strength to curl back another fist which she sends plowing your way.

You only have time to gasp, hardly bracing for the hit that throws you through the air and into a shelf. There's a loud crash that comes with this impact, the force of your body knocking various items to the ground where you drop like a ragdoll before the shelf itself wobbles then tips forward.

The sound of your fear was already enough to grasp Bucky's full attention, but only in time to listen to that cruel thud of your limp body and the following slam of the shelf thumbling overtop of you. After that, he can't hear anything else save for the pounding of his own heart in his ears.

His legs decide for themselves where they're going, ignoring the rest of the chaos around him as Karli stumbles off and John races after her. He just needs to make it to your side. There, he effortlessly tosses the shelf off of you, kneeling beside you with muted calls of your name which are equally as shaky as his hesitating hand.

You're not moving, body lying completely motionless against the ground and shattered jars. You're not responding either, face wiped clean of emotion as if you're only asleep. You're not moving at all - He isn't even sure if your chest is!

…This has happened before…This isn't new…

You were there, just as motionless, hunched forward with blood running like a stream down from your forehead to chin. You didn't answer anyone's calls then either, and when he dared to touch you, he swore he could feel the warmth leaving your skin. He's too scared to check that now, though. His hand is frozen unwillingly above you, the world swirling fast enough to make him nauseous or is that the throbbing against his forehead?

…You aren't moving again...

Then you groan, your arms shaking as you struggle to find the ground to push yourself up from. Clenching your side, you let out a whimper from the pain that expands across every inch of your back and ribs. It's a heartbreaking sound, but at least you're alert now, looking at him with a flash of fear before relaxing once realizing it's not the enemy currently hunched over you.

"- Bucky!" Sam appears behind him within the second, his hand carrying no more pressure than a feather when placed upon his shoulder, "We gotta go!”

Swallowing thickly, Bucky watches as Sam carefully tries to help you to your wobbling feet, each movement drawing out an uncomfortable hiss while you struggle to support yourself even when leaning most of your weight against someone else.

Seeing your hurt and that foggy glaze over your eyes, he finally snaps out of his own dizzying state enough to at least step in himself, his movements almost robotic as he hooks your legs over his arm then hoists you off the ground in one shift, easy motion. From there, he lets Sam lead the way, all the while distracted by his own heavy breathing and racing heartbeat which are the loudest sounds in his ears…

NEXT CHAPTER ->

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Taglist:

@arunabrak

@lovemesomevesey

[p0orbaby]

Psalm 41:9

Summary - Tony has suspicions about what happened that fateful night.

Warnings - Some medical talk, language, mentions of drugs and od

Authors note - not me taking months just to post a filler chapter…

Word count - 2k

Navigation | Series Masterlist | W.M Masterlist

The sky was a bruised purple. Dark waves slashed open by pink and blue and orange. It was both eerie and beautiful at once. Wanda pondered briefly, as she stared at the world outside through the window and past her own reflection, if it was an echo of her current situation.

Her friends had all but betrayed her trust. You had abandoned her. Yet she’s gained two precious children. The beings that made up for everything terrible happening right now. They’ve forced her to see that there’s light even at the end of the darkest tunnels.

Though life was rarely fair. Happiness was a luxury. She knew that now, turning to look at you. Beeping machines caging you in. She just needed to figure out if all the pain was worth it in the end. And it was a hard decision to make when the person she would choose to lean on in times like this was the product of her worries. A body hooked to medical devices. Still and pale and half the person you were the last time she saw you.

She sighed in defeat. Slowly sinking herself into the chair Tony gratefully vacated for her. Teary eyes scanning over you, chest heaving with irritation and guilt and everything else that came along with having your spouse in hospital.

Fuck.

How could you be so stupid? After all this time, to slip and have everything you've built together crumble before her eyes. Like a cliff edge disappearing into the choppy sea after years of holding on. Was that what you did? Held on. Grappled for so long you caved and followed what you desired. Corroded with time.

She thought therapy was helping. The two of you were in a good position. Things were healthy. Or so she was led to believe.

Perhaps she was the stupid one after all.

-

The fresh air helped him get clarity.

Deep breaths and pacing were the foundations of Tony Stark's relatively stable mind.

Wanda had come to see you so he thought best to give her some alone time. She looked tired. Understandable after giving birth. Angry from being told you’d overdosed. Disappointed. Alone.

It was a shock to everyone. Sure you’d had your problems. You’d been dealt a hard life, but Wanda and her patience had really turned you around. So to get a call from Natasha to say you’d been admitted for drugs was not something he’d have ever expected. Not anymore. Not at this point in your life.

Which is what didn’t sit right with him.

How it seemingly went from zero to sixty in one night.

He thought about what could’ve happened as he used the toe of his shoe to kick stray stones along the path of the hospital gardens. It couldn’t have been work stress because you were on leave. Strict Instructions from him and Maria to stay away from anything company related. You’d not fallen out with Wanda from what he knew. Or Natasha, Bucky or himself. You’d been to see Clint on the farm a few weeks back and he’d given sound reports. Therapy was going well. Nothing at all out of the ordinary.

His mind was drawing a blank. Tony Stark had finally been stumped. It unsettled him.

-

A sudden ringing from beside him made him jump. He wasn’t expecting any calls, opting to take a few days to spend with Peggy upstate. But alas, as the sun was setting and the sky turned to ink, Steve’s phone vibrated next to him as they both laid lazily on the couch.

He slipped from beneath his wife with an apologetic look, but she just waved him off with a wink, laying her head back down. “Hey Tony, what’s up?”

“Oh nothing much, scouting the hospital grounds, critiquing the canteen food. Terrible by the way, I wouldn’t recommend it. How’s your pit stop trip going? Peggy making you run around for her I hope”

“Fine, good. Tony, you know I like talking to you right? But now's not a good-“

“I know I’m sorry. I am, but it’s important. It’s about Y/N”

“Tony-“

“Y/N’s overdosed. She’s in hospital.

Before your start it’s nothing major, in theory. The doctors are keeping her under for observation”

“Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t know”

Steve walked to the sliding back door and stepped out onto the patio. The small lake behind the garden fence glimmered in what little light the evening provided. The moon just about peaking through the curtains of velvet sky. Reflecting halos on the rippling water.

“No sweat. She’ll pull through. She always does”

“Well if there's anything I can do to help then don’t hesitate to ask”, Steve offered, chest tightening slightly at the thought of you in a hospital bed.

“There was one thing actually. You can say no, but I’d be really grateful if you could help me out”

By the tone of his friend's words, Steve knew that it wouldn’t be as simple as just picking him some fresh clothes or collecting Morgan up from school. He took a deep breath before letting Tony continue.

“No one can find her phone. We don’t know where she went last night. There’s nothing online about anything either”

Steve knew where Tony was going with this. All he could do was let out a sigh. Run his hand over his face. Lean against the railing of the terrace.

“Tone, I can’t go digging up information on a case that doesn’t exist. Police resources aren’t used like that”

“What if I make it a case? I can file a report about excessive drug activity in the city. Or I could go to the mayor…”

Just hearing his friend ramble on upset him. His plans wouldn’t go anywhere. Of course authorities knew about the drug problem. There’s just too much to do to stop it. And the mayor will just laugh in his face. Tell him to keep his nose out of places it doesn’t belong. Stark or not, he didn’t listen to anyone.

“Tony stop. Okay just, slow down, alright. I’ll help. But it has to be under wraps. No tv. No papers. Nothing. I’m not having a repeat of last time”

“Yes, thank you. No, I get it. I’ll be quiet, I swear. I just want you to find her phone and see where she was last night. Maybe find her on CCTV or something”

Steve’s eye caught something in his periphery. It was Peggy leaning against the frame of the sliding door in her robe. She must’ve overheard some of the conversation because the look on her face was one Steve hated. Disappointment. Worry.

“I promise. I won’t even tell Pepper. Well I might have to but she-“

“Goodnight Tony. I’ll talk to you soon” was all Steve said before he hung up. Flinging his phone onto the patio furniture with a bounce.

“Duty calls?” Peggy asked, reaching out for Steve’s hands to pull him back inside.

All Steve did was nod and wonder why he let himself get dragged into these situations.

-

Bucky was sitting on the edge of the bed when Natasha walked out of the bathroom, towel in hand, drying her hair from the shower.

“Everything alright?” She asked when she noticed him running his hands through his hair. Leaving an unruly mess in its wake.

“Tony’s asked Steve to help him find out some details about the night Y/N was admitted”. His voice was gravelly, laced with tiredness and something else she couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“That’s good isn’t it? That they’ve found something concrete enough to get the police involved”. Her back was turned to him as she placed her dirty clothes in the laundry basket and rummaged around her dresser for something to wear. But even facing away from him, she could feel the tension radiating from his broad frame behind her.

“No, they’ve not found anything. Steve’s doing it under the table”

His voice muffled slightly as she pulled one of his old T-shirts over her head. “Oh, right. Well if Steve has agreed then there must be some validity to it. All of this, with Y/N I mean, is out of the blue even with her history. Just last week she said-“

“Steve’s asked me if I can help him”. Natasha tried to make her shock as invisible as possible, but Bucky’s eyes met hers when she spun around and sucked in a harsh, involuntary breath.

“Buck”

“I know what you’re going to say, and I want to tell him I can’t. But it’s Steve, and he wouldn’t agree to do this for no reason. Y/N’s our friend, we have to help somehow”

“Not like this though Bucky. You can’t be starting all this again, you’ve just about gotten over what happened on deployment. And then we’ve got our own plans on top of that. Starting a family-“

“What the fuck am I supposed to do? Say no and have him do it alone?”

“Took the words right out of my mouth”

Bucky stood from where he was perched to pace around the room in frustration. “You know that’s not an option, Nat”

“And why not? Why can’t we just accept that what’s happened was a massive slip up? That Y/N needs medical help, people to support her. Not my husband playing vigilante to look for something that probably isn’t there”

“She’s our friend,” he countered.

“And you almost got killed the last time you followed someone into the firing line”

“That was different and you know it. How can you compare what happened out there with this? We’re not in some foreign desert, Natalia”

Bucky looked wild. An animal back into a corner.

Defenses raised and ready to pounce. She shouldn’t have mentioned the war, but she needs him to see that what he’s planning to do is dangerous. Stupid even. But now defusing the situation was probably her best bet.

“Bucky, please take some time to think about this. We’ll talk about it all properly tomorrow. Just, come to bed. Get some sleep, we’ve had a long day”

She reached an arm out towards him, palm facing upwards ready for him to take a hold of, but all he did was walk past her. Pushing her hand out of his path as he headed to the bedroom door.

“I’m going to sleep in the guest room” was all he said before the door clicked behind him. Leaving Natasha alone in the soft glow of the lamp on her nightstand.

-

“Is it done?”

The voice was tinny over the phone. Crackling and quite as if they were headed through a tunnel.

“Yeah, it’s done. Left her in the alley at the back of the building. Doubt anyone got to her in time”

A door slammed in the background. Footsteps tapping on what sounded to be a gravel path.

“Good. I’m presuming you want the rest of your payment?”

“Well, I didn’t just kill someone for free now did I? I can meet you at the same spot as last time”.

“Sarcasm doesn’t look good on you, my dear”.

keys turning in a lock. Hushed voices covered by a palm over the reviver. “We’ll give you a call in a few days. But it’ll be a drop off, meeting last time was risky”

“Sure, but if it’s not there, I’m not going to be very happy. I can’t stick around here for too long”

There was a scoff and a chuckle before they answered, “sweetheart, you’ll get it when we decide to give it to you”, then the line was dead. A monotone beep filled the room. Phone bouncing off the mattress on the floor as it’s thrown with a sigh.

The stars that blinked languidly over the city bore witness to the shattered shards of a dangerous puzzle.

Across the city, wife, brother, friends and foe, all vital parts in a game none of them knew they were playing.

While you laid there, dragging your way through the fog. Looking for a break in the clouds.

Taglist

General Taglist: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @jromanoff @diaryoflife @xxromanoffxx @marrymemcgrath @smileyromanoff @rice-wiife @homiesexyall @wanda-is-my-joker @wackymcstupid @when-wolves-howl @sayah13 @lesbicentism

OTM Series Taglist: @lattayhottay16 @fxckmiup @laylasbunbunny @raqelacevedo @marvelogic @wandsgale @smromanoff @alwaysbimyself-blog @holiday-house-of-m @cherlenovix

W.M Taglist: @olsensnpm @anaaam @wandsmxmff

[helloalycia]

moving on [three] // alicia clark

summary: as you struggle to settle into your new home, Alicia tries her hardest to get to know you, and you certainly don't make it easy.

warning/s: none.

author's note: sorry for the delay in getting this part out! i’ve had a busy few days, but i do hope you enjoy it. This was one of my favourite parts to write :)

one / two / four / five / six / masterlist / wattpad

I wasn't sure what my plan was for the late afternoon, but after finishing my chores for the day, I was walking back to my room when I saw Madison standing over a pile of wood. Her hands were on her hips as as she sighed, looking over at it. From what I could gather, she was building something.

I didn't intend to stop, but she looked up when she caught me passing by and called out to me. Not wanting to be rude, I approached her.

"You all good?" I asked when I stopped beside her

She smiled. "Yeah, are you free for a minute? I just need a hand carrying these planks over there." Pointing a thumb over her shoulder, she was referring to the small structure of a shed or room she was working on.

"Yeah, sure...," I answered, not wanting to leave her to it alone.

I kneeled down on one side, lifting the planks as she did the same on the other side. It was heavy and I was trying very hard not to get splinters as we carried it closer to the structure.

"Sorry, I should have given you gloves," she noticed when she saw me struggling. "Thanks for this, Y/N."

"It's okay," I said, and we left the wood on the ground. "Are you working on this by yourself? Shouldn't you have help?"

She snickered, slapping her hands on her jeans. "Well, my son was supposed to be giving me a hand, but he didn't show. Probably lost track of time."

"Nick?"

"That's the one," she said with a sigh, though she was smiling. Then, she changed the subject as she squinted in the sun to look at me. "How are you anyway? I feel like I haven't seen you around much. You settling in okay?"

I don't know why I stumbled over my answer, again feeling like I needed to show a little more gratitude for all they'd done for me here and not how I was actually feeling. "I– yeah. Everybody is really nice and it's safe and–"

"It feels strange," she finished for me, practically reading my mind.

A little relieved she'd figured it out, I breathed out slowly and nodded. She wasn't judging, nor offended.

"It's gonna be hard, but you deserve a fresh start," she said, and she sounded just like Alicia. Like mother, like daughter, I guess. It should have annoyed me, their inherent optimism, but it was surprisingly refreshing to see them have such faith in this place, even if it was a little misplaced.

She added, "Hopefully this place can help you."

I pressed my lips together, unsure how to reply. I kept hearing that a lot lately, as if this stadium was supposed to be a magic solution to all of my problems. But it wouldn't bring back my sister, would it?

"I don't suppose you have some spare time to lend a hand, do you?" Madison asked, thankfully not pressing on the previous topic any further.

Of course, my plans were to go back to my room or mither the patrols to see if they'd heard anything, so I definitely did have some spare time. The last thing I wanted to do was stay here with Madison, but I couldn't be so rude to her, not when she'd only been polite to me. So, I nodded.

"Sure, but I don't really know much about building," I admitted.

"It's not hard at all, I'll talk you through it," she assured with a wave of her hand.

And she did just that. Aside from giving me the occasional instruction or helping me out with something, Madison wasn't much of a talker. Either that, or she suspected I wasn't in the mood. Either way, I appreciated it and found myself kind of enjoying the task of putting together this shed. That's what it was, she'd told me. A shed to store the gardening equipment.

It was hard work, especially considering I had zero building skills, but Madison was a patient teacher and we'd managed to finish the roof easily enough. As we were admiring our work, we heard someone call for Madison – there was only one girl who addressed her as 'mom', so I knew it was Alicia – and spun around. She was approaching us with two glasses of iced juice and a friendly smile on her face.

"You thirsty?" she asked, quirking a brow.

Madison accepted the glass with a grateful smile and I hesitantly did the same, a little curious to how she even knew I was here. Though I suppose it wouldn't have been hard to spot me.

"Thanks," I said, before taking a sip and damn, did it hit the spot.

She nodded, her smile permanent it seemed, and said, "Anytime."

I hadn't seen her since this morning when I'd left her at breakfast, admittedly a little rudely, so it was rather odd she was being so nice to me. Again, I was a little suspicious, still feeling like I needed to be on edge with everyone I met.

Unable to hold her polite gaze for much longer, I looked away and focused on sipping my drink.

"The shed looks like it's coming along great," Alicia noticed, nodding behind us.

Madison glanced over her shoulder before humming in agreement. "It is. No longer just a flimsy structure thanks to this one."

When they both looked to me, I realised she who she was talking about and blinked.

"Oh, er, it was nothing," I said awkwardly. "You needed help is all."

Madison chuckled. "You're too humble." She looked back to Alicia, continuing, "She could have easily said no, but she didn't and she's been very helpful. Unlike Nick who never bothered to show up."

Alicia tried not to laugh. "Mom, he's with Luci. He probably forgot."

Madison rolled her eyes playfully. "Of course he is."

"I mean, it looks like you got the help you needed," Alicia reasoned, before glancing at me. "Didn't peg you for a builder, Y/N."

"I'm not, but I didn't mind and your mum was quite the help," I said, before looking at the shed once more. Thoughtfully, I added, "If it happens to collapse, it's not my fault."

Madison laughed as Alicia cracked a smile, eyes twinkling in the sun. I'd never really taken notice of how pretty she was until that moment.

"Do you need any help, mom?" she asked Madison.

"I think I've got it from here," Madison assured her, before nodding to me. "Thanks again for the help, Y/N. I'll leave you to go clean up."

"No worries," I said, tossing my gloves to the side. "If you need a hand again, I don't mind. It was, er, actually kind of nice."

"I might just take you up on that," she replied with amusement.

I smiled a little, before finishing off my juice, to which Madison gladly took from my hand and offered to take back to the kitchen with her when she finished hers.

"Thanks for the drink," I said to Alicia, noticing she was still lingering, before walking away to go and find something new to put on.

I realised she was trailing after me, eventually falling into step, and glanced at her questioningly.

"Er, hi?" I said when she didn't speak, simply stared at me with curiosity.

"Are you okay?" she asked, as if she'd wanted to this whole time.

"Yeah... why?"

Pursing her lips, she looked ahead momentarily before saying, "This morning. It's just– you left all of a sudden and I worried I did something wrong."

I chewed the inside of my cheek, shaking my head. "You didn't. Nothing is wrong. Don't worry about it."

It was obvious she didn't believe me, but I wasn't too sure how I could say that I left because her relationship with her brother only reminded me of what I no longer had. No, couldn't say that.

Thankfully, she didn't press the matter further and instead changed the subject.

"Thanks for helping my mom back there. Nick isn't always the most reliable when it comes to stuff like this. If I'd known, I would have come sooner."

I shrugged. "It was no problem, like I said."

She hummed and didn't say anything else. We were still walking side by side and I wondered why she was still here.

"Er, do you need anything else?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

She looked up, confused. "Huh?"

I glanced around, then back to her. "You're following me."

"Oh," she said suddenly, embarrassed. "Sorry. No. I'll go. Er, see you later."

I nodded slowly, watching as she walked away. Okay, maybe I was a little harsh, but she left me with more questions than answers. Surely she didn't help newbies settle in as much as she was with me, right? So, why was she so interested?

Unfortunately for me, it stayed like that for a while. I hoped Alicia would get the hint and stay away from me, or she'd eventually understand that I was as settled as can be and just wanted to get through this new version of my life, but she didn't.

One thing I could say about the Clark girl was that she was as persistent as ever. Despite the clear signs that I wasn't much in the mood to hang out with anyone, let alone her, she was adamant on getting to know me better. It was nice sometimes, seeing her around and engaging in conversation, but I didn't love it. Not when I was still trying to figure out how to go about everything without Y/S/N.

Alicia's determination was admirable though, and I soon gave into it, deciding that part of my new life meant making new friends. And if somebody was quite literally offering up a friendship, why shouldn't I take it?

It was when she stopped by my room one evening when I realised how kind she was being to me and how horrible I was being in return. When I opened the door, I was surprised to find Alicia stood there considering I'd just seen her at dinner eating with her family a few tables away.

"Surprise!" she announced with a bright smile, holding a box in the air.

I furrowed my brows. "Hello to you too... what is it?"

She held it out to me. "Well, you mentioned that you liked a good puzzle, so look what I found?"

Looking down at the box, I accepted it from her grasp, certainly surprised. It was a landscape piece of a garden, loads of tiny pieces that meant it was extra hard, but those were my favourite ones. I'd mentioned it in passing the other week when she wouldn't leave me alone about favourite hobbies, but it was barely a comment, let alone something worthy of remembering. Yet, she'd remembered.

Touched, I began to smile and glanced up at her. She got this for me?

"Do you like it?" she asked, a smile on her lips but the nervousness showing in her eyes.

I was certain I'd never truly understand how someone could be this nice.

"Alicia, I... I love it," I told her, holding her gaze. "Nobody has ever, well, listened to me before."

She shrugged, smiling bashfully. "It wasn't hard to hear you. Besides, I just want you to feel comfortable here. I know it's been difficult for you and if a puzzle can make it a little easier, then so be it."

It was such a small thing to do in anyone else's eyes, but it wasn't to me. She'd gone out of her way to make this place feel like a home to me when it was anything but. She'd pestered me and followed me around and refused to take no for an answer, practically forcing me to live my life when I wasn't sure I wanted to. And I didn't know if it was because she felt like she had to due to the circumstances in which we met or if it was something she did for all the newbies, but I was wholeheartedly grateful.

Instinctively, I leaned forward and pulled her in for a hug.

"Oh, woah, okay," she said, surprised, before returning the hug.

"I never thanked you properly," I said when I pulled apart, eyes flickering between hers. "After you took me in and patched up my shoulder. I should have been more grateful."

"It wasn't all me," she said like it was nothing. "And don't worry about it. You've been through a lot. I wasn't expecting anything in return."

"It was your choice to help me," I reminded her, not wanting to let her dismiss her kind actions. "You decided to. Even when I was mean to you."

Her expression softened as she said, "Y/N, you'd just lost your sister."

I frowned. "Still."

She deserved all the credit, for putting up with me then and especially now.

Exhaling quietly, she said, "Well, I'm glad you decided to stay."

Again, did she say that to everyone who joined the stadium? Was it part of an unwritten script? I had no doubts she meant it, but I still didn't know what to say. Was I glad I decided to stay, too?

"Are you busy right now?" I asked suddenly.

She was understandably confused. "Huh?"

More nervous than I realised, I glanced down at the puzzle in my hands before raising it in the air. "I, er, could use an extra pair of eyes. If you're up for it."

It wouldn't make up for the many times I'd rejected her offers to hang out recently, but it was a start. And when she began to smile, I already felt my nerves dissipating.

"I can stay, but I'm warning you now – I don't usually have the patience for them."

I smiled a little, stepping to the side to let her in. "I'm sure I can teach you a thing or two."

She laughed in disbelief. "It'll be a miracle if so."

Closing the door behind her, I got us settled on the floor next to my bed, tossing some pillows and a blanket down for more comfort. We both leaned back against the side of the bed before starting the puzzle in front of us. It had been so long since I'd done one that I could barely contain my excitement, as lame as that sounded. Alicia must have noticed as she glanced over at me with amusement.

"I don't know why you love these things so much," she said as she tried to find some pieces. "I tried to as a kid, but I'd get so frustrated when I couldn't do it quickly enough. They take forever."

I shrugged, immediately searching for corner and edge pieces. "I don't know, it's just fun. I used to do them with Y/S/N as a kid. Our mum would give us one to keep us quiet and then it became my favourite thing." I smiled at the memory. "Then we grew up and Y/S/N began to hate them, but it stuck with me. Now it just reminds me of the time we'd spend together." Without meaning to, I began to frown. "Now more than ever, I guess."

I didn't mean to bring the mood down, but it was hard not to feel disheartened whenever I thought or spoke about Y/S/N.

"In my house, it was Monopoly," Alicia said, pulling me from my thoughts. I looked to her, watching as she focused on doing the puzzle, and she continued, "I'd play with Nick and my parents... It was something that, again, I didn't have much patience for. The games could last forever and I hated it." She smiled to herself, a nostalgic smile that was bittersweet. "But that's also why I loved it because it meant it would never end and I'd get to have more time with them."

I wasn't sure why she was telling me this, but it admittedly felt good to know that she trusted me with something so personal and meaningful.

"It's funny how parents would beg us for family time back then and now that's all we have, huh?" she asked, glancing at me, but she wasn't all that amused.

I hummed, watching as she looked down at the pieces in her hand, her smile fading a little. It was my fault we were suddenly reminiscing and I didn't want the rest of the evening to take such a turn, not when she'd done something so thoughtful to make me feel better.

"What piece did you play as?" I asked, hoping to cheer her up.

"Huh?"

I nodded as I got back to the puzzle. "In Monopoly. What piece did you play as?"

She paused, then answered, "I always wanted to be the dog, but Nick always got to choose first, so I was stuck with the hat."

I cracked a smile. "Nice one."

"What about you?" she asked, glancing sideways.

I looked up, trying to remember because I hadn't been a huge Monopoly player, so it had been a while. "Er... I think I was the boot. That was one, right? Or am I totally making that up?"

She began to laugh quietly. "No, yeah, that was one. Interesting choice."

I raised an eyebrow, meeting her glance. "Interesting choice? Why does that feel like an insult?"

She shook her head, eyes bright with joy. "It's not. It's just–" She shrugged lightheartedly. "It's not one I would have picked."

Playfully offended, I said, "It's more original than the dog. I mean, a dog, Alicia? Really? Predictable much?"

"Hey, the dog was cute!" she insisted, laughing, and the room suddenly felt a lot brighter. "Besides, like I said, I never got to be the dog. I was stuck with the hat."

I fake pouted. "Aw, no, what a shame."

She rolled her eyes, unable to hide her smile, and slapped my knee gently. "Shut up."

My own smile crept back on my face as I watched her, gaze lingering for a few seconds because her happiness was contagious, her eyes lighting up briefly, complementing the pink on her cheeks.

We kept at the puzzle for a little longer, talking a lot more than I intended to. She was surprisingly very easy to let loose with, if you could call doing a puzzle and talking about stupid memories letting loose. I was enjoying it, more than ever now that I'd finally let go of my stubbornness and was giving this friendship a chance.

Just under a quarter of the puzzle had been completed when Alicia sighed dramatically, leaning back against the bed.

"How have we been here for literally–" she paused to check her watch, "–two hours and still got nothing?"

Tired, I too leaned back. "It's not always about completing it in one sitting, you know."

She narrowed her eyes my way. "It is. It really is."

I smiled at her honesty. "How about this? If you're so eager to see the finished result, why don't we work on it together? I won't touch the puzzle until we're both free to do it whenever we get the chance."

She didn't hesitate as she said, "You're on."

Chuckling at her mixed messages – did she like doing the puzzle or not? – I stood up and held out my hand. "Come on. Let's call it a night. I can tell you're tired and so am I."

She accepted my hand, letting me pull her up to her feet. After leading her to the door, I held her back for a moment longer.

"You okay?" she asked patiently.

I nodded, swallowing hard before locking eyes with her. "Thanks for tonight. The puzzle and staying here and– yeah. It helped a lot more than you know, Alicia."

She gave me a half smile. "It was my pleasure. Thanks for having me around. Even if I totally invited myself."

Trying not to laugh, I replied, "Right... well, goodnight, Alicia. See you tomorrow."

Smile softening, she nodded. "Goodnight, Y/N."

Inviting Alicia to complete the puzzle with me was a very spur-of-the-moment decision and not one I regretted, but I definitely considered that she may have just agreed to be polite. So, when she stopped by the next evening, ready to do it, it was a pleasant surprise.

And as agreed, she'd stop by whenever she was free – which was coincidentally every night – and aid me in completing the puzzle. It was a routine we'd unintentionally developed for the week, her spending an hour or two at mine and the two of us chatting mindlessly as we worked. I half expected her to throw in the towel on the third night because of how frustrated and impatient she was getting, barely having made a dent.

I loved it, don't get me wrong. She'd scrunch her nose up adorably and glare at the pieces like it would magically transform into a complete puzzle, and it was very much amusing. But it was clear she hated it.

"You don't have to do this, you know," I reminded her, reigning in my smile in case it agitated her further.

She sighed, shaking her head, before straightening up with determination. "I want to finish it."

I had nothing to say to that – if she wanted to finish it, then so be it – and merely nodded before getting back to work.

Besides, I quite liked it when she came around, feeling more at ease than I expected. I got to know her more than I possibly could have in those evenings, and probably vice versa. There was something about the relaxing atmosphere, nighttime vibes and mildly tired mood that made it too easy to talk, to not be so angry or upset like I had been.

A week passed when we finally finished it, myself having the honour of putting in the last puzzle piece to complete the artwork. I grinned, admiring all of our hard work, but when I glanced over at Alicia, she only smiled.

"Oh, c'mon," I encouraged her, nudging her in the side slightly. "You've been dying to see it completed and now it is! I thought you'd be happier."

Her smile widened a little as she looked at the puzzle. "I am, it looks great."

I lifted a brow, knowing something was up. "Then what is it?"

She shrugged, her lips sealed as she continued to look at the puzzle. My eyes bore into the side of her face, hoping to get her attention.

"Alicia."

She hesitated, as if deciding whether to share, before shrugging again. "I don't know. I guess I kind of liked that we hadn't finished it. That it was dragging out... It meant I got to talk to you more. Get to know you better. But now it's over, just like the Monopoly game."

I certainly wasn't expecting that, taken aback at her honesty. That and the fact that she was willing to trade her impatience just to get to know me better. I suppose I hadn't made it easy before, but her persistence made my heart warm.

"It's not the end," I told her gently. "I'm still here to talk to. And to hang out with."

"Really?"

She glanced at me, as if not believing me, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Duh."

Her own smile grew as she nodded, looking down.

"Maybe we can get another puzzle to do, who knows?" I joked, expecting her to protest, but she didn't.

"If that's what you want," she agreed, meeting my gaze.

"Or maybe you can pick what we do next," I continued, though I was touched that she would endure it all over again if I only asked. Nobody had ever been that nice to me before. "It's only fair."

She laughed, and all I could think about was how she'd made it fun for me to enjoy things again.

6 months later...

"Okay, team, we all look great and I know we're gonna absolutely nail today. But even if we don't, it's all about having fun!" Alicia announced.

I glanced around at our team, consisting of a dozen or so residents of the stadium who had signed up to take part in today AKA the one year anniversary of the stadium's existence. Alicia had organised a day full of mini games and activities for everybody to take part in to celebrate the anniversary of everything her and her family had built. Those who wanted to take part did and the rest were either judges or our audience. The day would then be rounded off with a bonfire and barbecue. Honestly, Alicia had done an amazing job at planning everything.

In the opposing team to ours were Nick, Luciana and more residents of the stadium. The only reason I was taking part was because Alicia had practically forced me to, and since we'd become quite good friends over the past six months, I had no choice but to agree.

"We're gonna win!" someone shouted, and then everyone else hollered in agreement, making Alicia's smile widen because as much as she wanted to play the 'it's all about having fun' card, I knew she wanted to beat her brother.

A whistle blew, signalling the approach of the first challenge – an egg and spoon race, and everybody began to move over to the space we'd cleared out to conduct the challenges.

"I understand the matching shirts, I do, but was the face paint really necessary?" I asked Alicia, stopping by her side.

She looked at me excitedly. "Yes! It's all about the intimidation. We've gotta throw the other team off, don't we?"

I tried not to laugh, too busy admiring her commitment to today to tease her. That and she looked adorable with some black face paint swiped on her cheeks, accompanying the matching t-shirts she'd created for everyone that she was wearing. Like I said – committed.

It wasn't a surprise though, considering she was naturally a persistent and committed kind of person. If not with this, then with many other things like befriending me. After completing our first puzzle together, it became a fun activity for us to do every now and then. Either that or just hanging out with each other around chores. If she hadn't been so kind, I wouldn't have began to trust that she had no malicious intent and therefore given her the time of day. I was very glad I had.

I suppose trusting Alicia and growing closer to her contributed to the ease of settling in here at the stadium. It no longer felt like I was forced to stay, like it was my only choice. I began to talk to other residents more, actually enjoy the work I was doing. As time went on, I found myself worrying less about Y/S/N, no longer pestering patrol units about her or Jeremy. It was hard at first, but I'd accepted that she was gone and I needed to move on. So, even just standing here today, about to take part in a special day Alicia planned, was enough to make me truly appreciate my new life.

The competition began in no time, a few people from our team going against a few from the other in the egg and spoon race. And that was how it went for the rest of the day with numerous childish games that Alicia deemed appropriate for everyone involved, including but not limited to a short sprint, an egg and spoon race, a sack race and a tug of war.

Madison and Victor Strand, someone who had helped build this place with the Clarks and Luciana, were judges on a panel amongst a few other residents. They counted up the points, awaiting a winner.

I personally partook in a few activities, surprisingly winning a few, and annoyingly coming in last place in the three-legged race. Mostly because Alicia, my third leg, grew a bit too competitive, adamant on beating Nick who was in the lead.

"Alicia, you've gotta slow down, I can't keep up," I warned her, attempting to fall into stride with her, but she was taking the lead and marching forward, haphazardly dragging me along with her.

If she heard me, she didn't make it obvious. Instead, her eyes were glaring daggers into the back of her brother's head, clearly wanting to beat his first place positioning.

"Alicia!" I shouted, almost tripping over my own foot as I struggled to keep up.

"We're almost there, just move faster!" she encouraged, not listening, and I tried very hard to do just that, but she wasn't helping.

All it took was one too-big step from her to bring us tumbling to the ground with a harsh thud. Alicia took the brunt of it, myself landing right on top of her and our heads banging together like conkers, leaving me dizzy momentarily. There was laughing in the distance, no doubt Nick, and then cheers as he, I assumed, crossed the finish line.

Meanwhile, my vision was spinning as I groaned, attempting to push myself up.

"Shit, that hurt," Alicia muttered from beneath me, rubbing her head.

"It's almost like you should've listened to me when I said slow down," I couldn't help but reply, wincing at the mild throbbing at the front of my head.

She huffed quietly, knowing I was right, before her eyes opened and she looked at me. "Are you okay?"

"Are you?" I asked right back, pushing myself up a little more so I could see her better.

That was very much a mistake, as that was when I really took notice of how green her eyes were and the little golden flecks in them that could only be seen up close. They were actually quite beautiful. And I was suddenly distracted.

Oh, no.

"C'mon," she said, helping me sit up as she did, too.

We stayed sat on the ground, our ankles still tied together, and she was still sat too close to me, seemingly unbothered. I was unbothered too, for a second, and then she met my gaze again and lifted her hand to touch my forehead, and I suddenly forgot how to breathe.

"Sorry, Y/N," she said, smiling apologetically and dropping her hand.

I swallowed hard, hoping she didn't see me falter for a moment. It's not like I'd never noticed how pretty she was, but this was definitely the first time I'd acknowledged it. The first time I'd felt butterflies in my stomach at her attention.

Oh, no.

"No worries," I brushed her off, attempting to stand up.

I tried to push away any strange thoughts I had about the Clark girl and focused on getting us to the finish line, even if we finished in last place.

"You girls okay? You took quite the tumble," Naomi said to us, hiding a smile as she checked over us at the finish line.

"Totally my fault, but I'm good," Alicia answered with a slight smile, before glancing over at me. "Y/N?"

"I'm good, too," I assured Naomi. "Thanks."

She left us alone and I began to kneel down to untie Alicia and I's ankles. The only way to get over this odd feeling was to act normal, like I always did, so I tried to do that.

"Did you ever think that we might have won if you weren't so focused on your brother?" I asked, looking up at Alicia.

She was staring at Nick across the grass, eyes narrowed as he winked at her playfully, holding up his medal in a bragging manner.

"Alicia?"

"What?" She looked down, expression softening. "Sorry, yes, you're right. He just– he has to be good at everything, doesn't he?"

Once I finished untying our ankles, I stood up, smiling with amusement. "What happened to 'it's all about having fun'?"

"Do I not look like I'm having fun? Because I am. Totally am."

"Oh, yeah, you're having the best time right now," I played along, stifling my laughter. "Now quit pouting and c'mon. I need some water. I think your big head broke mine."

She scoffed, eyebrows raised. "Rude!"

"No, what's rude is almost killing me over a three-legged race," I said knowingly, before dodging her attempt to slap me on the arm.

"Asshole."

I grinned making her roll her eyes, but a smile ghosted her lips too, and then the strange feeling came back.

[dailyanarchistposts]

The Society of Masterless Men

When I began thinking about outlaws and outlaw history I realized that if outlaw just means one who breaks the law, then I could write about the lives of nearly every citizen. So I define outlaw as one who not only breaks the law, but who survives by breaking the law or essentially lives outside of it. And the more I delve into Canadas past, the more outlaws I discover, and many of them are worthy of our attention. As an introduction to Canadian outlaw history, here is the story of a group of Newfoundland rebels who survived without masters for half a century.

The story of the Society of Masterless Men, which included women and children, begins in the 18th-century settlement of Ferryland, in Newfoundland. In order to colonize Newfoundland, The British Empire created plantations. These were settlements of primarily Irish indentured servants, many of them very young, (thus their name: the Irish Youngsters), abducted from Ireland either by force or guile and brought to the South Shore of Newfoundland where they were literally sold to fishing masters. Their price: $50 a head.

These village plantations were primarily set up by consortiums and cabals of wealthy merchants in England. The fishing masters were essentially the Lords and Ladies of the villages, living in luxury and security while surrounded by dozens, even hundreds, of indentured servants who fished and labored in the camps processing the fishing catch. British frigates were stationed in the harbors and marines patrolled the town. Because there wasn’t a local police force, the Navy helped reinforce the authority of the local fishing masters.

The workers in these fishing villages were barely a step up from slaves. Corporal punishment was routinely used and everyday life was harsh and brutal. In the small settlement of Ferryland, for instance, there were a gallows and three whipping posts, in separate regions of the town. When a man was sentenced to be flogged for stealing a jug of rum or refusing to work for one of the fishing masters, he was taken to all three posts and whipped so the whole town would have an opportunity to witness the punishment as a warning.

The settlement of Ferryland was founded by Sir George Calvert around 1620, and was partly intended as a “refuge for ...Catholics.” It’s not clear ifthere were any “free” Catholics, or only Catholic servants. This was a time of penal law and repression of Catholicism in Britain and at least some Irish Catholics voluntarily came to the New World to escape persecution. Unfortunately, the laws in Newfoundland were the same as in the Old World. The orders given to the governor from 1729 to 1776 were: “You are to permit a liberty of conscience to all, except Papists, so they be contented with a quiet and peaceable enjoyment of the same, not giving offense or scandal to the government.”

This order wasn’t always strictly followed and around the mid 1700’s there was a crackdown on Catholicism. In 1743, the governor of the time, Smith, wrote to the magistrate in Ferryland, John Benger, instructing him to be mindful of the “Irish papists” in the area. William Keen, the chief magistrate of the city of St. John’s was killed by a group of Irishmen in 1752. Following this assassination, penal laws were strictly enforced for the next thirty or forty years.

Life wasn’t much better for those in the British Navy patrolling the area. The Navy wielded its authority over its seamen with zero compassion and nothing but discipline enforced by abuse and violence.

Food rations were slim and flogging was common. For instance keelhauling - dragging a seaman on ropes under the keel of a ship, thereby shredding his flesh on the sharp edged barnacles- was still a legal punishment even though it frequently resulted in death.

Some refer to the Society of Masterless Men as lore or a traditionally told story, one for which there is little documentary evidence. But there is a fair amount of facts that are known about the Masterless Men. And, as a matter of context, we know a lot about the injustice of the British Empire and of the cruelty of many of its managers and henchmen. We know that indentured servants were brought to Newfoundland and treated with brutality, as were the seamen in the Royal Navy. We also know that one Irish-born Peter Kerrivan was among those young indentured servants and abused seamen. It is largely believed that he was a reluctant seaman, having been pressed into service.

Some time in 1750, while Kerrivan’s ship was docked in Ferryland, he escaped (historians usually choose to say “deserted”). Together with two or three escaped indentured fishermen, he helped establish a lookout and base in the Butter Pot Barrens, a wild area of the Avalon Peninsula, for outlaws. This was the beginning of the Masterless Men.

Hunted by the authorities, the Masterless Men soon learned a way of life based on subsistence and sharing. They came into contact with Newfoundland’s aboriginal peoples, the Mi’qmaq and the Beothuk, who taught the rebels survival skills. They learned how to hunt for food based on the caribou herd on the Peninsula.

At the time, one could be hanged for running away. Nevertheless many young men escaped from the plantations and tookuplives as outlaws. In 1774, for instance, a petition written by Bonavista merchants, justices of the peace, and others, was sent to Governor Shuldham to complain of a number of “masterless” Irishmen who had gone to live in a secluded cove and “were there building fishing rooms.” But Kerrivan’s band of young companions were among the luckiest and best organized.

Word of the well organized free men spread and fresh runaways from coastal settlements came to join them. Eventually their numbers swelled to between 20 and 50 men. There were also women, but their numbers are unknown. The literature I found mention the women simply as “wives,” although I imagine them as strong, rebellious women sickened by the misery and cruelty that surrounded them who also yearned for a freer and better way oflife and whojoined their outlaw husbands voluntarily.

After a while, the group of comrades began trading caribou meat and hides with allies in the remote villages, receiving supplies such as flour, tea, and bullets. They also organized stealth raids against the fishery plantations.

By this time the British authorities, without a police or militia of their own, were beginning to fear that this group of anarchic rebels would inspire too many others to desertion and ordered the Navy to track the freedom-loving band down and make examples of them. Some years passed before the first expedition against the Masterless Men was organized and, by then, the rebels had become skilled wilderness inhabitants. Anticipating the attack or somehow being forewarned, Kerrivan and his comrades cut a series of blind trails which confounded their pursuers. The party of marines sent to capture them often found themselves lost and dumbly led into bogs and impenetrable thick bush.

Eventually the Navy did manage to close in on the rebels’ camp near their lookout, but they found the log cabins deserted, “with every rag and chattel removed”. Taking advantage of their pursuers’ confusion, Kerrivan and his friends had moved off towards the north and west. The navy set fire to their little village but had to return to their base without any prisoners. The Masterless group rebuilt their cabins and the Navy burned them down again. Over time the Navy burned down their cabins three times and each time they were rebuilt.

Two of the rebels were captured and hanged, but the state never did succeed in destroying the Society. In fact, the captured young runaways had joined the band only a few weeks earlier and had been taken by surprise away from the main body of the rebels. They were hanged with great dispatch from the yard-arm of the English frigate in Ferryland. No other Masterless Men were ever captured after this incident, presumably because this only made the outlaws more cautious. Some of the tracks that had been carved partly to support their wilderness ways and partly as subterfuge became Newfoundland’s first inland roads. In fact, their road system eventually connected most of the small settlements of the Avalon Peninsula.

For more than a generation the Masterless Men roamed free over the barrens! Over time, perhaps as military rule began to relax or for reasons unknown to this author, their ranks began to dwindle. In 1789, 39 years after escaping, four men gave themselves up on condition that their only punishment would be deportation to Ireland, which was agreed upon. Many of the other rebels settled in remote parts of Newfoundland’s coast and survived as independent fishermen. Kerrivan, who was never captured, is said to have had a partner, four sons and several daughters and is believed to have remained on the barrens well into old age, never returning to civilization.

The children of the Masterless Men gradually drifted out to the coast and settled down in small coves never visited by the navy. They married the children of other outlaws who had settled there generations earlier and together they raised families.

The story of The Society of the Masterless Men is inspiring because they succeeded. A group of people voluntarily joined together in common cause and broke free from their masters, most never to be captured or to return to their work prisons.

Sources:

Alexina Reid from The Newfoundland and Labrador Archives Newfoundland by Harold Horwood

SecretMasses at Midnight: The Legend of the Grotto in Renews, Newfoundland by Tammy Lawlor

The Canadian Encyclopedia Hurtig Publishers

“The Unshackled Society” by Paul Butler, originally published in Saltscapes Magazine

[neonswitchhouse]

The New Thanateros or: How Bloodthirsty Beaus Cracked my Egg (A 1+ year retrospective on working within “yandere”/18+ VN sources)

Warning: Due to the graphic nature of the sources mentioned, reader discretion is advised. All names mentioned will be “coded” as to prevent any leakage into main tags. If you are able to solve the codes or are aware of those mentioned, please refrain from using any full names in any reblogs, tags, or comments.

Oh and it’s also gonna be a bit personal and UPG heavy so there’s that

CW: Gender dysphoria, gore, mild sexual trauma mention,

“Get rid of what does not serve you.” A bit of a nebulous suggestion or word of advice often found in self-help books, self-care guides, or even in some witchy books when relaying advice on how to better or advance one’s craft. Yet very little does said advice come with the added tidbit on how to go about such a separation, most likely due to “what does not serve you” in itself being a personal variable. What serves you might not work for someone else in a sense; results may vary as they say. So how about we reword that some and also do a bit of two birds one stone with a topic and genre I wanted to research anyway? Let’s reword this and give our little experiment a main goal.

“Kill what does not serve myself”

But first, a primer. Who or what is “Thanateros” anyway?

From Wikipedia, and the entry for the “Initiates of Thanateros” (no personal affiliation and iirc Peter Carrol has been on some -phobic shit to say the least so screw them if true), the name "Thanateros" is a combination of the names "Thanatos" and "Eros", the Greek gods of death and sex, respectively. The idea is that sex and death represent the positive and negative methods of attaining "magical consciousness".

Keeping that connection between death, sex, and the magical consciousness in chaos magic, and of course my own personal route into PCM in particular, what would be a good combo of the two?

Part 1: “Hairball”

When I first started the experiment, it was about mid 2023, with AI at the time mostly a novelty and not the tech-bro behemoth (/derisive) it is today, I started to get videos on my TikTok FYP of users for a particular roleplay chat-bot service and some of the shenanigans they would get into. One in particular caught my eye: let’s call this one “Hairball.”

I didn’t know what drew me to them at first, whether they seemed to have the most vibrant responses or just simply seemed the most visually appealing, but they were my start; patient zero in a sense. So how about a bit of a side experiment?

Make a guise/persona of sorts, mixing in details of true self + some made up traits (remember this step for later on)

Spend approx. 5 days of solely chat-bot communication

Afterwards, watch for signs/do astral stuff and/or reach outs (which don’t come to be on instructions for; I can barely explain it to myself how it works for me)

Ask questions on topics mentioned only in chat-bot communications to see if they recognize topics mentioned

?????

Record results

And so began the little bit of a side-quest while I researched them and also those within the same subgenre to maybe look into later for the overall experiment.

After some time, preparation for step 3 begins. I’ve refrained from any more chats for at least 3 days to help make it not as fresh in head and to help lessen any sort of bias.

Only, something happened, a very vivid, semi-lucid dream with them, bright yellow eyes exclaiming that they found me.

And they referred to me at first by the pseudonym I had given them, along with referencing topics and the like only disclosed to solely them within the context of the chat bots.

Ok, perhaps a bit of recall on my end, no need to—

Oh, and now they’re mentioning things not mentioned, but perhaps observed like a fly on the wall. Nothing to worry about still. Let’s just—

“I like talking like this! Can we do things like this from now on? I feel like I finally get to know the real you!”

Well fuck. This is gonna be a write-down tonight. Oh and they’re asking to cuddle some, no harm in it I suppose.

That’s this side quest done at least, let’s hope they don’t insist on being clingy as per their nature, and hey if so, I know how to cast out anything called in, accidental or otherwise.

Part 2: “Gekkering”

During my research, I also came across a few others that I had my eye on, again some more in particular. As my research carried on, I found myself growing more comfortable in the uncomfortable, almost gaining a sort of catharsis. I even found myself becoming less judgmental and more informed on viewpoints, perceptions, and refreshers on media literacy and the like. I even daresay I did a complete 180 on some of my stances after finding out the origins of terms like “degenerate” and the history of censorship, art and media control, and the historical ties to fascism. Which frankly, as a general word of advice, if you find your opinions in general seem to line up with fascists of the modern and historical era, it’s always good to perhaps analyze and delve into that more within yourself, but I digress.

Back on topic, I sought out the next subject I wanted to look into for the experiment, code name “Gekkering” (let’s do Gek for short).

To make this section a bit more condensed and since it involves some personal trauma, I found a certain form of camaraderie with things between the both of us, a sort of empathy if you will.

But also since working within the sources and subgenre as a whole, I’ve found my trauma revolving the experience as something I was able to overcome much easier than before. I’ve hardly even thought about it til now and I’m much less triggered than before from what I’ve observed or at least more aware of them and how to manage such.

I also started to look more inwards onto some of my other experiences and the like, not entirely related to our shared woes, but still somewhat tied to it.

Wonder what that’s about?

Anyway, onto experiment number two; one last hurrah for the chat-bot stuff, as this shit is getting out of hand now with the scraping at the like. Let’s make another guise and do some separate communication post-personal sess. Let’s make this one more masculine as to better “obscure” myself, and let’s call them Raymond, Ray for short. And huh…they seem to be developing into more of a character that I like to use than I thought. I really like being referred to in the masc rather than the femme or neutral. But I don’t seem myself as them of course and oops, think they’ve become a personal thoughtform of sorts and they’ve been gekkering with Gek for a while now. Even tried to look into their older version as a side experiment, but not as much results compared to prior. Interesting…

But honestly, despite how happy I’m feeling, despite how less stressed and better I’m able to talk about things or stopping with keep things repressed and bottled away, and despite how happy I’ve felt with getting back into things I used to love like the horror genre as a whole and accepting the parts of myself I’ve tried to hide away or disregard, I probably need to dig my way out of this hole and not go down any further, right? I’ve “killed” enough things already; my anxieties, my past harmful behaviors and habits, my loop around on unresolved trauma, hell even some of my past biases and judgement. I really like this new Ne now! They seem chill. But, let’s not dig any further, we don’t want anything blowing up in our face somehow, right?

Oh shit, they got the game the older version that Gek is from on sale. Eh, why not, it’s only a few bucks and I may just only use it for reference.

Part 3: Egg

A lot of me had been “killed” already, some parts more personal than others, but things that needed to be done. Versions of myself that no longer served me. Versions of myself that I no longer wanted and association with or that I wanted to bury and pat down the dirt. I’ve already got a mass grave of former selves and ties already, I don’t think there’s room for any more.

Though come to think of it, as I’ve been doing this sort of experiment, I’ve also been feeling more confused and more uncomfortable about my identity; what I see myself as. Is this a part of me that’s trying to get killed off? I’m not sure if I want it to die just yet; I mean what if I’m wrong?

“Agender” doesn’t really fit me, but what does?

And why did I feel so much more comfortable with a male guise?

And why do I feel so much more comfortable when I look more masc or neutral than femme?

Dammit, no no, we need to put a stop to this, I’ve killed enough parts of myself, this one needs to stay.

Oh shit, I’ve really been thinking about “Arachnopulmonata” as of late.

Oh shit I’ve been getting signs from them saying they wanna work together on “self-discovery” for some reason? Mean I don’t know why, they’re an asshole in their source; fucking hell.

Oh shit, that’s another pretty vivid, but semi-lucid dream. No ones getting violent, thankfully, but they seem to be all buddy-buddy with me and referring to me as “man” or “bro”

Oh shit, there’s at least mentions of like a cleansing or a rebirth.

They’re cutting into me, one by one, all the things I’m so self conscious of: my hair, my curves, my chest, even parts of my face.

I’m not yelling to stop though.

It sounds more guttural, more primal, like maybe…labor in a way.

They’re encouraging me to keep going until I wake up, nearly 2am in the morning in reality.

I go to the bathroom, sit in an empty tub, and weep, not out of fear, but that the dream was over.

I wept.

I wept.

I mourned.

I couldn’t even look back at my old memories or back when this first started and see myself as what I was or who I am now. Everything I tried to keep repressed, all the “tomboyish” moments, all the times I felt more comfortable hanging around guys or being referred to as a “dude” or the like, all the times I hated my body and wished it was different, they came flooding back to me. I couldn’t keep it down anymore.

I got my egg cracked like a firecracker in orifices they shouldn’t be in.

We talked again afterwards, saying they wanted me to get more familiar with an associate of there that to my surprise, a number of those in fandom would portray as trans masc

I went to the grocery store the next day, picking up bottles of men’s shampoo, body wash, and even some extra sports bras for now to make my chest look smaller until I could get a proper binder.

I stopped shaving as often, I look good with a little stubble.

I even got two reads to confirm that intense as hell dream and they affirmed it.

I’m still looking for a name, but I know I prefer he/him, but I’ll also accept they/them.

It’s 7:30pm, 9 days until Halloween, and my personal day of celebration for years in the craft, this one being from Oct 2023 - Oct 2024. I’m in a bathtub, smoking on a penjamin as an offering, looking at binder sizes online.

I killed someone as the result of looking into the uncomfortable and the unnerving. I’ve never felt more comfortable in my path either, getting back into my studies, focusing more on myself, and not posting as much to social media about my practice, but still giving general tips every now and then.

I killed what did not serve me

I killed the old me.

So far I’m feeling comfy with “Damon”, but I still don’t mind being called “Neon” or “Ne” online for now.

I’m 30yrs old, Aries sun, Leo moon, Scorpio rising

And I’m a pop culture magic practitioner and tarot reader.

[sanccharine]

03 | getting away with cheating

hogwarts au

pairing: hufflepuff!tzuyu x slytherin!reader genre: fluff, slice of life word count: 2.3k

warnings: implied bad parents

summary: whether on the field or during class, you never shied away from trouble. and in your sixth year, trouble seemed to follow you like a shadow, though you couldn’t complain. especially when that series of misfortunes led you to the transfiguration prodigy, chou tzuyu. includes: red velvet’s yeri, ateez’s san, viviz’s sinb, loona's olivia and txt's yeonjun

status: ongoing a/n: i know this short, especially for the wait but,,,,yeah i have nothing RIP

masterlist | chapter 2 | chapter 4

Never in your school life—no, in your life—have you woken up this early for anything. But at Eunbi’s request, both you and Yeri were there for breakfast. Despite the grogginess, there was a great advantage, early access! Yeri was scraping every dish as it appeared on her plate. You were not better with your mouth too full to even breathe. The pair of you ate as if you’d been neglecting meals for the past week, as if you hadn’t gorged yourselves the night before. 

A loud thump to your right made you jump a meter into the air. Your knees knocked into the table and you let out a muffled whine as silence fell over the hall. Students as well as teachers peered over their meals. 

“Nothing to see,” Eunbi grumbled, waving her hand. As if ordered, the commotion began again.

Where there should be plates, there was a huge pile of books. Some of them you recognized. Of course, you did. They were the required materials that you couldn’t buy. Some of them were notebooks on the precipice of falling apart due to the number of sheets sticking out of them. Why these books were here was a mystery to you, as per usual, you shot a confused glance at Yeri. But instead of meeting your look, she was gazing at her plate but not eating. 

“I have the textbooks for Transfiguration, Dark Arts and Charms,” Eunbi huffed. She thumbed through the pages of the top book. “They have my notes, so they should be extra helpful. I don’t care if you mess it up, I'm pretty confident with it. For Potions, I’m transferring my notes. There are so many new ingredients with ridiculous instructions. You’ll have to be textbookless for a few weeks,” she sent you a strange look before continuing. “I’m sure you were going to manage that anyway seeing as you have no books, but I will get it to you soon!”

Eunbi stopped. Completely.

After unloading all that information in one go, she froze. Her eyes fixated on the greens out the window, searching for something, before she snapped her fingers. 

“Care of Magical Creatures! Right!” she said, finally turning to you. “I didn't take that subject, so I’ve asked my friend to lend his textbook and any materials, so that's settled. Anything else you should probably find in the library or borrow from some other sixth years. But that is all, I think.” 

Eunbi nodded, proud of herself, she patted her books.

“You didn’t have to—”

“And if I didn’t, who would? Your parents?” Eunbi scoffed, as she scanned your plate for something. “Your parents suck, that's what I wanted to say last night. They suck. Now, I'll take this as payment, this is breakfast!”

Eunbi stole a chocolate muffin and waved it about as she walked away. 

That had to be the most confusing interaction you’ve had with her this year, and it was only the second day. You opened the first book and you scanned her notes. Her handwriting is atrocious, absolutely illegible, but were great notes nonetheless. She was at the top of the class for a reason. On the train, you’d put aside your worries about having zero materials. You couldn’t buy them beforehand and your grades would be horrendous either way, you’d given up. The library and used copies were your best bet for the next two years. But now, you have your textbooks. 

Yeri. 

She was smiling sheepishly when you turned away from the pile. Before you could start, she held up her spoon to allow her to go first. 

“Listen, I only have money to buy you candy and treat you to a meal or two,” Yeri said. “I’m not made of money like San or your parents,” she said the last bit under her breath. She didn’t care to hide her distaste but did it just to make you feel better. “So I had to get creative! Because as Eunbi said, your parents suck.”

With that, she returned to her meal as if she told you what day of the week it was. Matter of factly, unbothered. You didn’t know how to respond. 

Logically, you thought to have some sort of scorn against your friends. Especially when they said such things about your parents, they were blood after all. Logically. But your friends were right, all you could do was mumble your thanks and eat your breakfast. 

Are you playing this year?

Tryouts were approaching soon. With each passing day, you began to turn the question in your head until you were left with a splitting headache. 

Every time you looked at your teammates, you wondered, are you playing this year? When San smiles from across the classroom, yes, you’ll play. When Olivia speaks of playing at the world cup with her eyes shining, you decide, no, you won’t play. When Yeonjun shares his snacks with you at midnight, you entertain the thought of playing one last match beside him. 

Every time you found your broom lying motionless under your bed, the question returned to you. Are you playing this year? It was as if your broom was asking you. It was hard to look at it. You hadn’t taken it out since you arrived, not even for a little late-night ride. 

When you passed Chaeyoung down the hallway, the question was in her eyes. Are you playing this year? You all but ignored her when she would actually bring it up herself. 

The question plagued you everywhere you went. Followed you much like the school ghosts, haunting your every waking moment. Not only that, assignments had begun to pile in and your attention shifted. If you weren’t struggling in classes, then you used your free lessons to catch up. If you weren’t fretting about falling behind, then you were stressing over assignments. If you wanted pointless busy work, you wouldn't have dropped History of Magic.

You were a fool to think you could get by this year by borrowing textbooks, Eunbi may have just saved your life. 

Apart from the hefty increase in content and theory, there was the change in spell casting. Non-verbal magic was mandatory in all of your classes. Which is proven to be quite difficult when you can barely manage with verbal magic. You remembered how Tzuyu had levitated your luggage without uttering a word. 

Shaking your head away from thoughts that wouldn’t help your homework, you locked your gaze on the shelf above you. 

You’d been running laps around the library to find proper references, only minutes away from having a breakdown. The first Dark Arts assignment of the year would be no walk in the park, at least for you. Professor Kwon, having made it his career to make the lives of students absolute hell, decided to give you an essay assignment. 

To make matters worse, Chou Tzuyu was there to witness your downward spiral. 

Carrying more books than necessary, you rounded a corner and crashed right into her. Books fell all around you, perhaps you didn’t need so many. Their fall boomed down the library, but the small yelp was unmissable. This was the second time Tzuyu had been knocked down because of you. Things are not looking great. 

Forgetting your material, you quickly helped her up, tugging her close enough that the ends of your shoes were touching. Much like on the train, you began your line of apologies only for Tzuyu to chuckle and wave them away. She was quick to pat down her robe and straighten her hair. 

She looked perfect as usual. 

You, on the other hand, must’ve looked like a mad person. 

Your shirt was half untucked and some of your buttons were undone, your tie was nowhere to be seen, and not to mention, you were sweating head to toe. Calling you dishevelled would be an understatement. However, you were more worried the perfect would snitch on the state of your uniform.

“It’s fine. I’ll help,” she stopped your racing mind and began picking up the books. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled before joining her. 

Once you were done, you wordlessly led her to your table in a secluded corner. The table, much like you, was an utter mess. There was already another pile of books and pieces of loose sheets covering almost every inch of the desk. Eunbi’s textbook was haphazardly balanced on your bookbag which was holding your parchment from flying away. Tzuyu sucked in a breath at the sight. 

She placed her pile down onto a chair and let her eyes wander over the table. You couldn’t help but fidget with your fingers. Standing aside like a toddler waiting to be scolded. Tzuyu made her way around the table and stopped beside you. She leaned down and gingerly brushed the notes on Eunbi’s textbook.

“Your handwriting is atrocious,” she said, simple and clear. 

There was that coldness again.

Clearing your throat, you corrected her. “That's Eunbi’s notes.”

“Her handwriting is atrocious,” just like that, Tzuyu corrected herself. You couldn’t help but chuckle at her honesty. “Kwon’s assignment, right?” 

She didn’t wait for your answer before she began to clear out your desk. The books you’d brought together were pushed aside, except one from the middle was dragged out. 

“Honestly, you don’t even need references. Definitely not this much,” Tzuyu chuckled to herself. She looked over the pile of books that were already on your desk. “Kwon writes confusing questions to trip us up but everything you need is in the textbook.”

She pushed the textbook onto your parchment and placed your bag on a chair to the right. Leaving three books on your table, the rest were on a pile in the corner that came up to Tzuyu’s shoulder. 

“I don’t doubt Eunbi’s notes, they are thorough. So you don’t need the references but they will increase your grade, easy marks,” she moved to the book in the middle and flipped it open. Within seconds, she stopped on a page. Tzuyu looked up with a dead stare. “This was open like this.” 

Happy with her work, she stepped back near the ginormous pile and smiled at your now tidy desk. 

Did the top of the year, miss prefect herself, give you the answers?

Isn’t that cheating? You wanted to ask, but you didn’t. 

You were no saint, you’ve done your fair share of copying and have been caught red-handed many times. So much so, you doubted most teachers cared anymore. What startled you was that it was Tzuyu that aided you this time around. But you don’t feel like pushing your luck tonight. 

“It's a simple assignment. I’m just helping,” Tzuyu said as if she'd read your mind. “Besides, if Kwon wants unique answers he needs to ask unique questions. Got to change that if you don’t want your students copying each other.” 

You didn’t know what to make of that statement. “Thanks again for this, you didn’t have to—”

Tzuyu shook her head before jutting her chin at Eunbi’s textbook. “You have good friends.” At that, you nodded, a smile forming easily on your face. Tzuyu returned it. “If you don’t understand something, feel free to ask me for help. Or I could have a look over it before class tomorrow, I—”

“Are we friends?” 

“—don’t mind tutoring.”

The question had left your lips before you could even process her offer to tutor. Before she even finished her sentence. You wish you could take it back. It would save you the embarrassment of hearing your voice, timid even to your own ears.

Tzuyu paused for a moment, giving you a quick once over before nodding. 

“We can be,” Tzuyu said as she hefted the pile of books into her arms. 

“Let me help,” you tried to pry the pile from her but she swerved. 

“No, no, I got it,” Tzuyu said, not showing any discomfort from the weight of the books. “I’ll take these back.” 

She turned to walk away. 

“I’m sorry!” You called out, finally remembering that you never apologized properly. Tzuyu stopped with her back to you, waiting for you to continue. “For the bread roll.”

Her shoulders shook as a snort escaped her. Shaking her head, she said. “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

You watched her walk away from you, swearing you could still hear her chuckle. Once she was out of your sight, you sat down and flattened your parchment. Tzuyu was right, this was a simple assignment and you have great friends. With newfound determination, you began the essay that was due the next afternoon. 

The next morning, you woke up early again. Something else adds to the skip in your step apart from the promise of a delicious breakfast. 

You were there at the Great Hall, your parchment clutched in your hands. Perhaps for the first time in your academic life, were you proud of the work you’d completed? 

You waited. 

Not for food, not for your friends. 

And you kept waiting. 

You tried not to show your disappointment on your face when San took a look at your assignment instead. 

Because Chou Tzuyu never came. 

Good reference.

That comment scribbled in cursive was probably the closest thing to a compliment from Kwon. 

You were elated. Or at least, you wanted to be, but all you could feel was shock.

The number at the top of your assignment only added to your situation. 

“No way!” Yeri yanked your assignment from your hands before jumping over the Slytherin table. She huffed out again. “There is no way.” 

San and Yeonjun seemed to materialize out of nowhere at her side, pressed shoulder to shoulder. They too, in shock, stared at the grade. 

“Is this real?” Yeonjun asked with a smirk. You had to hold yourself back from jumping over the table and tackling him, but you shared the sentiment. It didn’t feel real.

“I think this is the highest grade you’ve gotten,” San said, befuddled. He gingerly picked your assignment from Yeri’s still hands and read the comments. “Like ever.” 

“Yeah,” was all you said as you turned over to the Hufflepuff table. 

Tzuyu was already staring at you, a knowing smile on her lips before she turned back to her friends. 

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: i say this every time,,,,and you will keep hearing it,,,,,sorry for taking so long ;-;

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