#I also love the implication that she just stood there for 10 minutes watching him staring uncomprehendingly at one page

[ambyandony]

Dunno why she fuckin asked him to read it when he clearly has had several untreated head injuries and mental illnesses and is Italian

Also dunno why he tried so fucking hard . Ten minutes he tried to read that fucking page.

Avence (oc pictured here) is not actually a jojo oc she’s just a universe hopper so she can be basically wherever the fuck. Today, she’s here in jjba universe. to facilitate the illiteracy joke.

In case anyone was wondering

[realcube]

their team reacts to seeing them with hickeys/back scratches 💫

characters: kageyama, akaashi & kita

tw// fem! reader, sexual references, swearing, blood 

kita tw// mentions of daddy kink, punishment, overstimulation - MINORS DNI 

KITA’S IS AGED UP!!

thank you anon for the request 💗

Tobio Kageyama

he was on tanaka’s team for game amongst karasuno and he watched his senpai take off his shirt and wave it around after they scored another point

but instead of putting the shirt back on, he kept it off bc he was too lazy to go get it since he threw it to the other side of the gym

then noya took his shirt off too bc he was sweating buckets 

but kageyama wasn’t really sure why they had their shirts off so he felt the need to ask

‘why aren’t you putting your shirt back on?’

noya was just kinda like ‘who are you, my mom?’ but tanaka gave him a straight answer which was ‘it helps with ✨ aerodynamics✨’

kageyama isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed so he doesn’t even know what aerodynamics are

but then he watched tanaka make a killer spike and he was sold 

shirt = off

aerodynamics = thriving (?)

sets = awesome

back scratches = exposed 😳

hotel = trivago 

tsukishima was the first one to notice ofc as he was positioned right behind kageyama 

he didn’t say anything tho bc yamaguchi was on the opposite team so he just had to snicker to himself

hinata was like ‘what’s so funny, stinkyshima?!’ bc he automatically assumed that tsukishima was laughing at him lol

but then he followed tsukki’s gaze and leaned back to look at kageyama’s back too

‘yeesh, man. you should probably put some aloe vera on that or something, it could get infected.’

AIUWRAFHBE ok ok hinata isn’t completely oblivious to the connotations of back scratches but he’d never think in a million years that kageyama would get laid so he kinda subconsciously ruled that possibilty out-

kageyama quirked a brow, ‘what?’

‘your back! it’s all mangled.’ 

then noya and tanaka ran over and fkn BURST OUT LAUGHING 

at this point, all of kageyama’s team was surrounding him while the other team waited patiently for them to serve

but after a while, it was clear that they weren’t gonna do that so suga - who was on the opposing team - strolled over to see what they were all laughing about

and when he saw it- bitch- he went red 

a cool mom so he probably made a suggestive remark as he walks away

it eventually got to the point where everyone in the gym was crowded around kageyama and for ease, i’ll categorize their reactions:

laughing their ass off  ➵ tsukishima, tanaka, nishinoya, coach ukai & yamaguchi

concerned and confused  ➵ yachi, takeda, hinata & narita 

a blushing mess  ➵ asahi, kinoshita & sugawara

unfazed 😐  ➵ kiyoko & daichi 

LIVID  ➵ kageyama

‘WHY DO YOU ALL CARE SO MUCH ABOUT MY BACK?!’

kageyama could literally break his neck and walk into practise with a neck brace and no one would bat an eye but now that he has scratches on his back, suddenly everyone is so concerned about his wellbeing? where with this energy that time he said that hinata gave him a concussion?

to be fair, he didn’t have a concussion- also, he forgot the word so he told suga that hinata gave him a ‘conclusion’

daichi agreed, trying to usher everyone back to their spot on the court, ‘yeah, it’s no big deal, guys. let’s get back to practise.’

everyone slowly made their way back to where they were previously but since tanaka and noya were still on kageyama’s team, they continued to pry 

tanaka flung his arm around kageyama’s shoulders, ‘so how’d you get those scratches, big boy?’ 

an ungodly laugh left noya’s mouth

kageyama shrugged, ‘(y/n), i think.’

the whole gym room went silent before erupting in choruses of laughter once again

‘WELL YOU AND YOUR GIRLFRIEND NEED TO CALM DOWN THEN!’ tanaka wheezed

kageyama was truly the idiot that didn’t understand the implications of the back scratches - so you can imagine that he was frustrated when everyone started laughing again

‘what’s so funny?’ but then, he recalled the events which he was pretty certain were the reason for the marks on his back......it was pretty funny

you insisted on giving kageyama a back massage after a long day of practise so he took his shirt off and let you go for it 

for the record, he really loved it :)) he was just so happy sitting there between your thighs as you sat on the couch and rubbed his back, loosening all the knots he didn’t even know he had

but then he got a lil’ inch on his back and was like ‘can you get that for me?’ since your hands were already on his shoulders/back

ofc you said yes and started lightly scratching the spot he desired, but being extra careful bc you just got you nails done in the stiletto shape and the last thing you wanted to do was puncture his back lol

‘harder..’ kageyama muttered so low that you almost didn’t hear him

you obliged, pressing a bit harder 

‘harder.’ he insisted once more

again, you served by digging your nails in a bit deeper

‘harder.’

‘no, kags. i’ll literally pierce your skin if i press any harde--’ 

‘harder!’ he barked (for a joke) and you jumped from fright, instinctively pushing in more and increasing the pace of your hand

at this point, you were rigorously clawing at his back, on the verge of drawing blood which you could tell by his skin’s newfound crimson pigment 

kageyama took it upon himself to lean backwards onto your nails to force you to go rougher as you had yet to ease his itch 

then you let out a high-pitched scream so naturally, kageyama jerked away then peered over his shoulder to make sure you hadn’t like..died

‘what?!’ he asked, eyes filled with worry

‘blood!’ you yelled, pointing at his back before sprinting to the kitchen to get a tissue 

kageyama’s gaze followed you until you were out of sight, then he lightly touched his back around the parts you were scratching and once he pulled his hand away, he noticed the blood which was now on his fingers

‘oh.’

the concerning part was that he didn’t even feel it tbh 🤔

anyway tanaka and noya probably coo ‘oooh~ lovebirds~’ when you come pick him up from practise

Keiji Akaashi

bokuto heard some ppl whispering about akaashi & (y/n) in the changing room so he turned around to take a look at his friend then he noticed the scratch marks on his poor friends’ back

‘AKAASHI!! DID YOU GET MAULED BY A BEAR?!?!’ he screamed, grabbing the attention of everyone in the changing room and those who weren’t whispering about akaashi before, were definitely doing so now

akaashi smiled softly and shook his head, hastily throwing on his shirt and buttoning it up as he spoke, ‘no, bokuto-san.’

bokuto quirked a brow, wondering what could’ve possibly happened before his jaw dropped to the ground

‘is it ‘cause i patted your back a bit hard earlier?!?!?’

akaashi didn’t even bother to question how bokuto could think that a slap on the spine could lead to scratch marks and instead just replied normally, ‘no.’

bokuto was stumped once again- why else would his buddy have marks on his back? and why was (y/n) such a prominent name floating around in this changing room? doesn’t everyone know that she is taken by bokuto’s best-bro akaashi?

....

WAIT

bokuto’s jaw hung open once again as his soul left his body through an overdramatic gasp, before leaning in and whispering in akaashi’s ear, ‘wait- don’t tell me- you and (y/n)-’

akaashi’s cheeks tinted red slightly so he turned his head away while he pulled on his blazer, ‘no.’

bokuto let out a light sigh of relief, gently patting his pal’s back, ‘ah, good. but then, where did those marks come from?’

before akaashi even got the opportunity to open his mouth to respond, komi and konoha passed the pair, konoha patting akaashi’s shoulder and komi shot him a toothy grin accompanied by a thumbs-up, ‘get some, akaashi.’

then they walked off, konoha mubbling something about his chances with (y/n) being ruined 

this left both bokuto and akaashi extremely confused

once all traces of komi and konoha were gone, akaashi proceeded to explain himself

‘backne is a horrible thing.’ he murmured, grabbing his satchel, slinging it over his shoulder before strolling out the changing room. ‘i’ll wait for you outside.’

and bokuto just stood there like (。_。) ‘what’s backne?’

Shinsuke Kita

atsumu had invited the whole squad back to inarizaki for one last game before coach kurosu’s retirement 

after ages of arrangement, the whole team were able to make an appearance at the game - whether that be for 10 minutes or the whole thing

kita was able to stay for the whole thing

he was currently warming-up while chatting with aran before he was approached by atsumu, who was as lively as ever

‘mister rice farmer! it’s good to see you again!’ he sung, tossing his arm around kita’s shoulder and patting it in a friendly manner, ‘how’s life been treating ya?’

kita and atsumu somehow managed to make small-talk as if they hadn’t been apart for the last 6 years

‘me and my girlfriend have only been together for 6 months but i think i’m ready to settle down.’ atsumu mused, tapping his elbow before realising that he had been talking about himself for a while, ‘but anyway, i see that you and (y/n) are still going strong. haven’t y’all been together since the first year of highschool? that’s impressive! when are you gonna wife her up?’ 

kita perked up upon hearing that, ‘uh, yes. but how do you know that?’

atsumu couldn’t help but smirk, casually running a hand through his hair before motioning to the hickey on kita’s neck which was on semi-display, ‘right there, bud.’

kita looked down but unfortunately, his neck didn’t bend enough to see what atsumu was referring to 

‘also,’ atsumu chuckled, slightly embarrassed about what he was going to admit ‘i saw the pic of her you put on your facebook.’

‘ah, okay.’ that one kita could understand

atsumu was about to open this mouth to say something but then the shrieking noise of the coach kurosu’s whistle rang through the gym room, indicating the start of the match

the game went surprisingly smooth tbh 

minimal fights :o

but kita did get teased quite a lot smh 

anyway, after everything was all said and done and everyone started to filter out the gym, kita rushed to the bathroom to check himself in the mirror and see what atsumu was referring to on his neck

once he took a look at himself, he frowned

just as he thought, a hickey - that’s embarrassing

it was clear you made an effort to place hickeys in areas that would be hidden though as the bruise was barely peeking out from under the collar of his jersey, atsumu just has a rather keen eye 

however, that wasn’t going to stop kita from pounding you dry when he gets home - as a punishment ofc 

kita was about to leave but he couldn’t help but stay and stare at himself in the mirror for a bit longer, recalling last night as he wondered at what point you bit those onto his neck

was it during the 2nd round? or the foreplay? or perhaps the 4th round? wait- no- definitely during aftercare cuddles!..or actually, maybe the 1st round?

in all honesty, he couldn’t remember 

to him the whole night was a blur of pounding into you relentlessly, overstimulation, pleads for mercy, tears, passionate kisses and praise

with a sprinkle of daddy kink but let’s not talk about that

oh, and not to forget the way you’d call out his name just as you were about to reach your orgasm 

or your sweet, lewd whines that echoed through the room when he thrashes against your sensitive spot 

and don’t get him started on the cute little nicknames you have for him that squeal out through moans, like ‘daddy’, ‘master’, ‘sir’ etc 

kita snapped out of his fantasies, letting out a sigh and about to exit the bathroom- until he noticed himself in the mirror out of the corner of his eye

he was hard

smh smh smh 

now he was stuck between a rock and a hard place

(literally 🤠)

he could either potentially embarrass himself or cause an accident by walking to his car and driving home with a throbbing boner

or he could call you to help him jerk off in a bathroom stall

so he took a seat in one of the stalls - for the sake of the ppl he might run over if he did otherwise  

he rung you up and thankfully, you picked up and you weren’t feeling bratty enough to deny him the help he needed so badly

although it wasn’t a very pleasurable experience since he was constantly on hyper-alert just in case the janitor walked in, at least he got a lot of nostalgia from it :))

[bakugohoex]

“i hate your old friends”

pairing: katsuki bakugo x female reader

cw: language, kissing, misogyny 

word count: 2500+

a/n: just something i was thinking of this morning, it’s probably very tapped but we move

summary: in which bakugo gets a visit from some old friends, making remarks about you and the other girls, a much more angrier bakugo realises that his past friends never grew up in the past months and he as sure as hell wasn’t letting some idiots talk about his girl in that way

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

The late afternoon had brought an unknown chill to the class, you all had decided to go into town after a long training day against each other. Bakugo’s arm was around your shoulder, holding onto your much smaller frame. Your head leaned against his side which fit perfectly into him, talking to Kirishima who was complaining about how injured he felt after being knocked into a wall by you.

“That’s why my girl is so much better than you, shitty hair.” Bakugo mocked laughing with his head tilted backwards. The walk was short enough, the class converging into little groups themselves.

“Your girlfriend is an exact copy of you fighting wise.” Sero remarked remembering how you truly were a sweetheart but when fighting you became a Bakugo clone with anger and shitty talk to back you up with your ferocious quirk.

You turned to the boy pouting, “you don’t need to be so mean.”

Sero laughed along with the other boys a scowl on Bakugo’s face at the implications, “hey, you should be glad you’re a copy of me.”

Giving a disgusted face he rolls his eyes grabbing you closer towards him. His body always felt so warm, soft even but the look of disgust at being dragged along was evident in his scarlet eyes. “We’ll meet back in an hour.” Momo said as everybody began going their own way.

Bakugo and you were the only ones left, he had let go of your shoulder, putting his hand out for you to take. “Where do you want to go shitty woman?” He muttered knowing for the next hour he would just be dragged around.

“I want to buy some new shirts and I need to get some manga’s that have come out…” You began to think what else you needed to get, “oh yeah, I need to get some jewellery as well, we can get you some rings, they’ll look good on you.” You had said the last part touching his fingers with your other hand.

“Whatever.” He grunted dragging you into some stores, helping you pick out new tops and other jewellery, it was all a lot calmer with the boy. He tried to make you buy an ugly red and yellow shirt, but you refused at how gross it looked.

“Suki it literally looks like someone puked up on it.” He had put it across his chest as you were carrying some bags.

“And I’m the one who gets shouted out for being mean.” He grabs the bags in your hands having chucked the ugly shirt to the side and re-grabbed your hand.

“Hey.” You punch his arm as he shakes his head. “There’s rings over there.”

Dragging him along, he follows a lot more unwillingly, you look through the silver rings, and necklaces. “This would look nice on you.” He holds up a ring with a red diamond inside, it was all cheap jewellery, but it did look nice.

“Yeah, I might buy it.” You said attempting to grab it.

He stops you as you tilt your head in confusion, “I’ll get it for you.”

“You…”

He interrupts you, “I want too, it might not be that much but one day I’ll buy you a real diamond.”

You smile at the boy, a grin even at the boy who  hadn’t looked back at you, continuing to skim through the rings. But all you could look at was him, how his eyes were fixated on the rings, they were all pretty but on his veiny calloused fingers they’d be immaculate.

“I want these.” He takes out the rings, the silver that would fit nicely across his fingers, he just wanted your approval and your nod indicated that you liked them as well. “Come on, baby.” He takes your hand, grabbing you closer to his body as you stand in line.

You leant your head against his broad chest, his arms around your waist as you held the items. Maybe you had gone overboard with buying clothes, but the look of love Bakugo had when you had worn each item made you want them all. He grabbed the bags from the floor as you went to the counter putting them across. Taking some cash he passed it and took the bags for that as well, he definitely looked like a man being dragged by his girlfriend. Your empty hands as he held the bags and your hand looked like a scene, but he didn’t care if he looked like some sort of simp because it was all for you.

“We only have about 10 minutes lef…” You were interrupted by the sound of two boys, you didn’t recognise and by the look on Bakugo’s face neither did he.

“Bakugo.” They both shouted, both turning around to be met with two boys, one with grey black hair that went up to his shoulders and another with much shorter hair.

Bakugo looked confused as ever and he hated how his time with his girlfriend was being interrupted. “Bakugo it’s us.” The one with much shorter hair said.

Bakugo remained ever more confused, “who are you again?”

The look of confusion between the three boys was evident at how Bakugo had clearly forgotten who they were , “we went to middle school together.” The other boy said.

“Oh yeah, extra #1 and extra #2.” You tried to hide the small laugh at how Bakugo really remembered them as that and even then, probably only remembered having two friends and not who they actually were.

Before you could ask their actual names, you heard the shout of Mina running up to you with a lot of bags. “Mina don’t you think you went a bit overboard.”

“Really me, isn’t your boyfriend the one carrying your 10 bags, some of us aren’t lucky enough to have a man.” She fake wiped a tear before showing you the shirts she had, one catching your eyes, the ugly red and yellow shirt. Maybe it would work on her, maybe.

Momo and Jirio were the next to reach the two of you, “who are they?” Momo questioned pointing at the two boys who were trying to converse with an unamused Bakugo.

“Some extras I used to know in middle school.” Bakugo muttered back.

Momo turned to you and you shrugged looking at what she had gotten, in what seemed like less than a second, the whole class seemed to have come back, and you could see Midoriya eyeing up the two boys. You stood along with the girls unable to show your items at how Bakugo’s grip remained tight on the bags. Midoriya began walking over and you watched the scene take place.

“Kacchan, oh hey guys.” Midoriya, always the sweeties walked with a smile on his face, he’d grown a lot since his crying days and even then, through the tears there was always something strong to him.

“Woah Bakugo, you actually hang out with this loser.” At the sound of the one word you all looked wide eyed. Iida was about to say something but Bakugo spoke up instead.

He looked at you and you nodded, “I was with my girlfriend before you shitty extra’s interrupted us.”

“Woah, which one’s your girlfriend.” They both scoured the group of girls, eyeing each of you up and down like a piece of meat. They reminded you too much of the little grape head who had been trying to sneak into the bags to see if you had bought any lingerie.

“It’s got to be the one with the biggest boobs.” All your eyes flickered red; anger filled through the girls as you wanted to kill them in a flash.

Bakugo seemed pissed, not only had they looked at you with their disgusting eyes, but they were making remarks about his girlfriend's chest size. “We should all get going.”

Midoriya tried to calm down the situation, seeing the fury between the girls, specifically in your eyes but also the anger that looked to boil along Bakugo’s face. “No, why don’t we invite our old friends to UA, show them how an actual pro hero is made.”

You knew what Bakugo was doing, he was pissed. He knew he was better than them, he knew he had it all, the flashy quirk, the looks and even the girl but here he was in front of two random guys and he felt like they didn’t understand how much better he actually was.

“Katsuki, why not leave it fo…” You began to speak but he interrupted you once again.

“We’ve got time and the rest of the day off Y/n, we can show them the dorms, have a little chat.” You knew what the little chat indicated, him beating them to a pulp if it was necessary.

They looked between you and Bakugo and you were worried, it was easy enough to get them through if they came in with other students but the idea that Bakugo might hurt them worried you. You didn’t say anything and Bakugo started walking ahead, the two boys following behind him. It felt like a glimpse into the past, they were never his friends, you could tell, more an entourage who encouraged the behaviour.

Walking over to Midoriya you began asking him questions, “what were they like back in middle school?”

Midoriya hesitated scratching the back of his head, “umm…well I guess…mean really, don’t get me wrong Kacchan is a lot better now mainly because of you but back then he was a bully and those two would follow him around just as they’re doing now.”

Bakugo had noticed you talking to Midoriya, but so fuelled with anger he began to think you’d see his old side, even if little had changed, he’d become better around you, nicer to you. But the two extras following behind him, it pissed him off. “Wow Bakugo, the girls are really hot, you can’t just be sticking to one when you have such a wide range.”

Momo felt disgusted being talked about in this manner and Ururaka tried to bring comfort but being talked about as if you were a flavouring of ice cream was pretty unsettling. “You��ve got to admit it, the one whose around Midoriya is the hottest, why would she be around a loser like him though?”

Bakugo’s knuckles became whiter at the sound of them talking about you, his brows furrowed together and the bags in his hand would snap if he held them anymore. “Katsuki.” You whispered walking quicker to reach him up ahead, the two boys had noticed this action watching at how you stood beside him, even saying his first name. “Are you okay? We don’t have to do this; we can just leave them.”

The entrance of the dorms were near but even then, you could always tell them to fuck off, but Bakugo stayed adamant. Overhearing more of their conversation as your face fell white, “even if Bakugo could get her, she looks like a slut, she’s probably slept with the whole class.”

It was the final straw for the boy, just outside the walls, Bakugo dropped your bags. Giving a small look of apology before grabbing the two boys collars with both his hands and pushing them into the concrete. “If you ever speak about my fucking girlfriend like that ever again, I will kill you.” He lifted the two up before hitting them back onto the concrete.

“Katsuki, leave them.” You tried to calm him down, but he looked even more pissed. Those words they had spoken, you a slut, his girl, his gorgeous girlfriend was worth so much more than they are ever. “They don’t mean anything.”

You grabbed his hands, rubbing circles around his fingers as Kirishima helped the two boys and with Denki sent them off to leave. They seemed scared, pissed even but the look of horror at the class who seemed to acknowledge Bakugo’s strength spoke out more. They had realised Bakugo had grown a lot in these months, that to you he would never act the way he had acted prior.

Kirishima was the one to speak up first as everybody had started walking towards the dorms, you grabbed some bags and Bakugo took the others. He didn’t meet your eye but listened to the red head, “those friends of yours are real dickheads.”

You nodded in agreement, walking through the doors to feel the warmth surround you. “I hate your old friends.”

It was an acknowledgement that Bakugo was glad he felt as well, “they were never my friends, just stupid extras, you’re my friend.” Bakugo admitted to Kirishima who gave a toothy smile.

“Of course I am, we all are.” He smiled before excusing himself seeing how Bakugo needed some sort of comfort.

“Let’s go up to my room.” You put your hand out, it was a hand that had brought so much love and warmth in the months you had been dating. He grabbed it bringing it to his lips, kissing each and every knuckle individually.

Walking to the room in silence, you finally dropped the bags, the boy collapsing onto your bed in a heavy sign. “Kirishima’s right, they are dickheads and you’re worth so much more than them.” You spoke comforting him; he opened his arms out allowing you to rest on his chest, his arms around you.

“I shouldn’t have let them say all that shitty stuff, I didn’t care what they said about the girls or even the brat Deku, but they spoke about you as if you were replaceable as if you were some sort of whore and I just couldn’t stand for that. 

It was a confession, something that made the blond vulnerable in your arms, but the soothing pleasure he felt having you in his arms would relieve all the pent-up anger. “They don’t deserve to even have known you baby, you have all of us and I’m never leaving you for anybody. You’re stuck with me.”

He smiled, not a smirk or coy look, a genuine smile at the girl he loved, “i guess, if I have to have you forever.” Giving a small chuckle at the boy, you looked up to his face, lifting yourself up to encase his body between your arms and moving your face to face his own.

“Was this all a ploy to get me into bed?” He gleamed as he lifted his head up to make your lips touch.

The kiss was faster with pace and lust, he still needed to discharge all the anger and what better way than through you. His perfect little girl who’d do anything for him, who loved him and made him, the man who had been incapable of caring for another person, love. He held your arms before flipping you onto your back, his own mouth still attached to you. But now his body trapped yours underneath, as much as he hated having you on top, seeing how perfect you looked on top had become an ingrained image now in his head.

Tongue against tongue, mouth against mouth, hands in hair and others on your bodies. It was love in the purest form, no words only actions and it was the only way for Bakugo to prove that you were his and nobody would ever treat you like that ever again. Oh so help anybody who ever dared to see you as anything other than his strong independent girl.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alainarose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @maat-the-prescriptive @missmultifangirl @tvwhoresblog @kuroos-world @chrrylevi @ukaisgratefulwhore @answer-the-sirens @animexholic

[chaoticpuff17]

A Dangerous Game

part 10 

masterlist

Hello darlings! This one goes out to @the-darkest-starr​ ! She was my first like and my first follow. Love this girl so much, and hope it brightens her day! This one’s for you babe! 

The weeks of isolation had made her ready to climb the walls. Jin came to visit when he could, but he was still a doctor and that kept him very busy. They no longer had the excuse of her stitches to prompt a visit. This left Namjoon as her only constant companion, and she didn’t know what was worse, the isolation or the fact that she was beginning to look forward to Namjoon’s visits.

They had established a sort of routine. In the mornings Namjoon would come and have a light breakfast and tea with her bringing her new reading material, and then she’d be left alone to her own devises for the day. She’d read whatever book he had brought her and play solitaire. If she had to play another game of solitaire she was afraid she was going to lose her mind. It had gotten to the point where she was even beginning to debate throwing another vase at Namjoon, consequences be damned. And then he would return in the later evening and share late supper with her.  This was her life now, every day the same, and it was driving her insane. That was the point though wasn’t it?

The isolation was a punishment, but it was also a very effective tool for breaking down the will of your opponent, and Namjoon was nothing if not a smart man. He knew exactly what he was doing. She had to give him credit for that, the sneaky bastard. That was the game though wasn’t it? It was a new game and an old game all at once. And Namjoon had one the first round. She couldn’t allow him the final victory though.  

It was a waiting game now. Who could hold out longer? Namjoon unfortunately had the upper hand. He had all the resources after all. He held all the power. And she wasn’t stupid. She knew that he would only put up with her insolence so long before he took to more drastic measures. It all depended on how patient of a man Namjoon was. If she was lucky, and recent history had proven that she wasn’t, she could outlast him. He’d grow tired of her, of this game, and he’d let her go. Or maybe she’d just annoy him into killing her. It wasn’t a great plan especially considering she would much rather make it out of all of this alive, but isolation can make people do and think crazy things. And maybe Namjoon sensed that. Maybe that was why he came to her room that afternoon.

“Jagiya,” He began watching her with a smirk playing on his lips.

“What do you want?” She groaned from her position sprawled across one of the sofas with her arm thrown across her eyes, a position she’d taken out of boredom upon finishing the latest book Namjoon had brought her. “Don’t you have other things to do than to pester me?”

“It’s the weekend, jagi, and you’ve been left to your own devices all morning. I thought we might go for a stroll in the garden, but if you don’t want to…” He trailed off watching with veiled amusement as she perked up.  

“The garden?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Outside? Outside this room?” Her eyes were blown wide as she gazed at him hoping beyond hope that this wasn’t some cruel trick on his part. She wouldn’t put such a trick past him, but he nodded a small smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. “You’re not shitting me are you?”

“You’ve been so good, and you’ve taken your punishment so well. I could do without the attitude, but we can work on that.” He definitely had plans to rid her of the attitude.  

He could practically see the cogs turning in her head as the realization hit her, when the hope settled in. “I can leave this room. I won’t be locked in anymore?”

Namjoon couldn’t have been more pleased by her reaction. There was something so fragile and vulnerable about her in this moment, having those doe eyes focused on him filled with so much hope. And he was the one who gave her that hope. “That depends on how you behave today.” He mused. “If you behave well, I see no reason why you can’t have free reign of the house and the gardens. But if you don’t behave I have no problem keeping you here in these rooms.”

The effect of those words was almost instantaneous. Her eyes grew even more impossibly wide and her face paled at the implication. It was clear to him that her punishment had been effective. Even if she didn’t realize it, there was a shift, the smallest of change. He was wearing her down, settling her into her new role.

“Do you understand, jagi?”

She nodded quickly scrambling up and scampering to the closet in search of shoes. As much as she hated depending on him for anything, especially her freedom, she wasn’t about to give up the chance to go outside. She would be the sweetest girl in the world if it meant she was going to be released from her god forsaken house arrest.

She emerged shoes in hand and a bright smile on her face too big to conceal. The excitement of being released from her room outweighed her will to remain grumpy in the face of her captor, and in this minute she couldn’t bring herself to care even taking his hand without a fuss when he extended it to lead her out of the room.

She was practically vibrating with excitement by the time they had reached the door that would lead them outside to the garden. Freedom was just a few steps away, or at least a semblance of it was, but before she could step outside, Namjoon pulled her back, and she couldn’t help but look at him in confusion.

“This is a privilege, Y/N.” He repeated, dark eyes serious as he stared her down. “If you pull any sort of stunt today, I will lock you away for so long you will forget how the sunlight feels on your skin. There are worse prisons than your rooms, jagiya.”

The threat kept her frozen in place as she stared up at him. How could he speak such harsh words so sweetly?  

“Jagi?” He prompted squeezing her hand tightly. She nodded slowly unsure of how to respond to him after that. The man was giving her whiplash. “I need words, jagi.”

“Yes, Namjoon.” She sighed impatient to get outside and put his disturbing smiling threats out of her head, at least for the moment.

“Good!” He smiled brightly dimples popping out in full force. “Let’s enjoy the garden then.”

To say that the gardens were beautiful would have been an understatement. They were gorgeous, enchanting even as they sprawled out from the house. Clearly someone had put a lot of time and effort into them. It looked like something out of a fairy land to her, but then again, she was used to cramped city apartments with rag tag parks filled with litter. This was another level entirely, and she was instantly in love.

Namjoon didn’t even protest when her hand slipped from his as she wandered further into the garden. While she was enamored with the garden, he was enamored with her. He’d never seen her this soft. Her eyes had a sparkle to them that he had yet to see as she trailed her fingers across the petals of some of the flowers almost reverently. Everything about her in this moment seemed gentle.

Her eyes wandered further into the garden as she took everything in. It was sculpted into a very traditional fashion with bridges and gazebos and what appeared to be a large koi pond further  from the house all connected by a series of winding paths.

“Can we go there?” She asked her voice filled with breathless wonder as she looked out towards the koi pond.

“Of course, jagi.” He replied just as softly placing a gentle hand on her back to lead her down to the pond.  

He was almost afraid that if he spoke any louder or made any sudden movements that the moment would shatter and she would return to the acid spitting hellion he had come to know. He would have to savor this more gentle version of her while he could. He knew it wouldn’t last long. She would be a fierce little hellion again before long, but he enjoyed seeing this softer side of her as well.

He had chosen because she was intriguing, because she was strong, but this was something he wanted to see from her more often. As much as he enjoyed sparring with her, her constant venom was beginning to become tiresome. Yes, she’d followed his rules, but she had done it with a bitter reluctance that didn’t sit well with him. He was a man who was used to complete obedience without question. He was lenient for now though as she was still adjusting, but his patience could only hold out for so long. But for today he would enjoy the softer side of her while it lasted.

They reached the bridge that stretched across the koi pond, and settled there. Y/N leaned over the rail to gaze down at the fish that milled about in the pond a soft smile playing on her lips. She was entranced by the fish, wishing she had brought something out to feed her with. Next time she told herself. If she played her cards right, she’d be able to go out into the gardens as much as she’d like. All the while they stood there in peaceful silence, Namjoon stood guard just to the side his attention solely focused on her.

Looking at her now, Namjoon found her to be the most lovely woman in the world. Illuminated in the afternoon light with the late summer breeze stirring her hair, Namjoon considered himself very much in love with her, and he had to congratulate himself on his catch. Summoning her to that late night meeting all those weeks ago had been on a whim, purely out of curiosity to see who he was dealing with, and now he was grateful that he had. She was a dangerous woman to have around. She was capable of tearing down the empire he had built from the ground up if he wasn’t careful. But that made their game all the more exciting. It made her all the more exciting, and once tamed she would make an exquisite queen for his empire. All that was left to do was to break her to his will.  

part 11

[aurorafreerose]

Don’t Be Late- Ch 2

Summary- Bakugo and Uraraka go on a walk, but not before Ochaco gets flustered. 

Notes- Baku is so clueless while this cinnamon roll over here is an becoming an idiot in love aaaahhh also mild inappropriate-ness(?) but not real smut 

Writer’s note- I wrote this while listening to Do I Wanna Know by the Arctic Monkeys, Daddy Issues by the Neighborhood, and I Can’t Handle Change by R.O.A.R. Feel free to join in! 

Read on a03!

Ochaco, upon examining herself, found herself wearing a large blue gingham skirt with two layers of fluffy material, ruffles along the edges, a tightly drawn patterned corset, a blue bonnet tied to her head with a silk ribbon, and heavy white stockings leading to a pair of blue high-heeled, lace-up boots. She was holding a large white cane which had a small bell affixed to it, and it rang whenever she wasn't idle.

She was standing in a shockingly green field, and the sun's rays bounced off of her cheeks as she spotted something in the distance.

It was a herd of sheep, except they all had a pair of familiar slanted red eyes and wore rowdy blonde fur instead of their trademark white coats. The cluster reminded her of something- no, someone, but she just couldn't put her finger on it. They all growled at her when they saw her approaching, but gradually let down their guard, and soon, she was able to mingle about them with ease. Before she knew it, Uraraka was tending to a flock of slowly-growing-content Baku-sheep, and actually enjoying herself in the task.

Unfortunately, a soft beeping noise began to disrupt the comfortable routine she'd settled into. She looked around the field for the source of the noise ruining her satisfaction, but it only grew louder and louder, before-

Ochaco's eyes burst open. She was no longer in a field, but laying horizontally across her bed. The sight of a still-beeping alarm clock, the source of the annoying noise that haunted her dreams, greeted her dreary eyes. Her right hand, almost as if it was on cue, slammed the button off. Adjusting to the jarring morning daylight that was peeking through the shutters, Ochaco rubbed her eyelids and leaned forward to check the time.

No way.

10:30??

Oh, no. Oh no, no, no...

Starting to panic, she slipped off the edge, landing uncomfortably in the small gap between her bed and her drawer. Ochaco violently grabbed the alarm clock to examine its contents, hoping what she read was merely an extension of the absurdity clouding her dreams. She grasped the clock, drawing it closer to her eyes in order to confirm what she really hoped, for her own sake, wasn't true.

The universe had no such luck for her in store. The clock still read half-past-ten, and Ochaco was now filled with dread. Realizing her brain had tuned out the clock's irritating beeping noises in her jumbled hurry, she pressed one finger to the button and subsequently jumped out of her bed, imagining obscenities she wouldn't be caught dead saying out loud.  

She hurried over to her bathroom and brushed her teeth hurriedly while simultaneously splashing water on her face. Then, Ochaco pulled on an outfit not too dissimilar from the one her new sparring partner had worn yesterday; with cerulean athletic shorts that were slightly too tight and a cropped black tank top made out of a light, breathable fabric, you could almost say they were coordinated. In the rush to conserve time, Ochaco didn't realize this in the moment, but she would regret the choice her subconscious had made on her behalf soon enough.  

Grabbing a small black duffel bag that she thankfully had the foresight to pack the previous night, the frantic girl stuffed her feet into a pair of old, worn-out sneakers and threw on a cozy gray sweatshirt. She rushed out of her room, slamming the door with a loud shut behind her. Running as fast as she could down the halls of the girls' dorm, she glanced at her watch.

It was already 10:42?

After what seemed like an eternity, she threw herself down the stairs, stopped halfway to catch her breath, and finally entered the common room.

She didn't particularly want to examine her surroundings, but her eyes seemed to make the trip upwards on their own.

They landed upon a boy with unkempt fluffy blonde hair, about 6'2, leaning with one arm resting on a quartz pillar. He, too, was wearing a tank top, and it was accenting his tantalizing body nicely. Her eyes darted to his abs, which were not concealed at all but instead closely hugging the extremely thin, yet tight, fabric of his top. She could see his rock-hard, roughly carved muscle, the product of lots of intense work. His well-defined arm muscles were plainly visible; his biceps were all but perfectly sculpted, but what really caught her eye were the sharp, angular veins that bulged prominently down his arms. She followed their trail all the way down to his hands, where his veins were most noticeable; they accented his hands nicely, complimenting his long, slender fingers, all of which were about 4.5 inches (she guessed). They were scarred all over, no doubt due to previous fights. His right hand's ring finger and forefinger both sported bare silver bands, while his left's middle finger wore a plain gold one.

It was just a few seconds, but she realized her eyes were greedily drinking in his appearance only when a rough, loud voice snapped her out of her hypnotic trance.

"Oi, what the fuck are you just standing there for?"

Bakugo was staring back at her with a look of disgust, which she assumed was in response to the fact that she had stood at the bottom of the stairs, just looking at him, for a good number of seconds. Heat rushed to her face, and her body turned slightly inwards as she stared at her shoes, too embarrassed to make eye contact with him.

"Anyways," he continued angrily, not appearing to grasp the implications of what had just happened. "You're late. What the fuck did I tell you yesterday? And don't think you can get away with this easily, Angel Face. I woke up on time just to meet you here, and you pull this shit?"

Ochaco's face remained heavily flushed. She still couldn't bring herself to speak to him, mainly because her brain was in overload trying to decipher the events of thirty seconds ago.

"Yes," she wanted to yell back at him, "why was I just standing there? I'm not that kind of person! I'm not like... like Mineta or anything!" she thought, going from bashful to downright indignant. "

Wait, he didn't notice that, so who am I arguing with? I know that I'm not! And it's not like there's anything really special about you, Bakugo, anyway," she thought resentfully.

"I only asked you because you were the one who suggested it in the first place! Bakugo's rude, cocky, disrespectful, inconsiderate, not to mention always angry for no good reason, always! He was kind of like...an angry little Pomeranian."

The tiniest of smiles harbored Ochaco's lips as she raised her face to meet Bakugo's irritated gaze. The thought of him as a tiny puppy who was rapidly barking at everyone had momentarily distracted her from her sentiments. This wasn't lost on him, however.

"Fuck are you smiling at, cheeks?"

"Oh, nothing." She realized that Bakugo wasn't actually angry with her; he was just mildly annoyed. He was just expressing any emotion that verged on the edge of anger with a lot of yelling. Their height difference was even more apparent as Bakugo happened to lay eyes upon a pair of large, doe-like eyes that were now looking up at him. His expression softened momentarily, his eyebrows raising upwards and his mouth dropping slightly open. He drew his face back into its usual trappings of anger, but for some strange reason, he seemed like his temper was evening out.

When he spoke to her, his voice was softer than it was only a few minutes previously. It had taken on an oddly calmer quality, which it suited the brash tones of his voice nicely; he still sounded angry, but just in a different font.

"It doesn't matter anyways," he said in a mollified kind of way, avoiding looking at her as he turned his head to glance in the opposite direction. He looked down at his steel-colored watch. "Damn it, 10:50 already? Let's go, Uraraka."

She nodded silently, not knowing why she didn't feel nearly as angry anymore.

They walked alongside each other on the stone path to the training rooms. For the first few minutes, they were silent. Bakugo firmly kept his hands in his pockets, his fingers jutting out at the sides from the awkward angle he'd inserted them in. He stared straight ahead, a weird mixture of concentration and grit on his face. Ochaco, on the other hand, had noticed his habit of sticking his fingers in his pockets. Then, she blushed, remembering how shamelessly she had admired the very same fingers earlier, and gotten both angry with and ashamed of her own mind. Soon, she was too subdued by her own confused head to even bother with initiating a conversation.

Bakugo, without taking his eyes off of the ground, asked Ochaco: "You figured out I wrote to you, didn't you?"

Ochaco, for the second time that day, snapped out of her self-imposed crisis. "W-what?"she replied, bemused.

"Don't fuck around, cheeks," he said, irritation creeping into his tone. "You figured out that I was the one who assigned to write to you in class?"

"Well," she responded, a smile beginning to appear on her face, her eyes crinkled and one hand touching her neck. "You're the only person I know who calls me Angel Face..."

[joy1579]

Zen cheated on MC. She finds out and instead of crying her eyes out is getting drunk and calling Seven (which is madly in love with her but never told her because of her relationship with Zen).

so first I’m so sorry this took sooooooooo long but i hope you get it and i hope you like it. i had a ton of fun writing drunk MC. also i didn't want MC to use seven as a rebound so they don’t get together right away but seven does take care of her and they probably get together after a couple of months. she has time to move on and their romantic relationship has a real foundation to grow on.

so without further ado

zen cheats and seven gets the girl

You normally didn’t pay any attention to the gossip that circled around Zen constantly. after all every week they claimed there was some new lover or budding cast romance and every week without fail, Zen would come home to you, loyal as a knight. lately though the rumors had become more focused more realistic somehow. Zen’s rehearsals had run later, started earlier, things simply seemed off no matter how much you tried to deny it. so when the news story broke and plastered TV, magazines, and websites with numerous pictures of Zen wrapped around some pretty little blonde with big blue eyes, you hated to admit how much you had braced yourself for the blow.

the RFA chatroom was going haywire and your phone was ringing off the hook as you packed a single small bag. you supposed you should have been crying, grieving the loss of nearly two and a half years of “love” washed away by little more than some passing fancy. yet you couldn’t quite find it in yourself. Instead you felt an icy ball of hard anger settle in the pit of your stomach.

so it was that you now stood in some no name nightclub sipping a drink you couldn’t pronounce bought for you by some guy that had since given up on your affections. You had shut off your phone to stop all the notifications that had been flooding in since the pictures of Zen and THAT woman were released. You didn’t want to deal with the aftermath of that bomb dropping right now, didn’t want to explain things to the RFA or have to see Zen trying to defend himself. Right now all you wanted was to find some sort of catharsis in the loud music, alcohol and dancing. Downing the last of the far too sweet drink, you made your way toward were the band took requests. you shoved a ten towards the man and half shouted over the music.

“something fast, angry, and loud” he nodded and you decided to grab another drink while you waited for your request. you opted for strength over taste and grimaced as you chugged the drink. the icy anger you felt slowly dulled with your 3rd drink of the night and in the back of your mind you knew it was more the effects of alcohol than any real emotional progress. Four more drinks and several songs later had you ready to turn your phone back on if only to find a place to stay. confusion struck you however when your lock screen showed only black with green text moving at lightning speed.

“grrrrl that’s crazy you gotta show me how you got it to do that!” said one of the girls you had found yourself dancing with earlier.

“I didn’t do this girl.” you said slurring your speech only the slightest bit “oh no! what if this isn’t my phone!” you gasped “no nah it’s my case false alarm it’s mine. see the purple that’s, that’s my color so it’s got to be my pho-.” you were cut off by the ringing and answered it quickly fumbling the phone just a bit your drunken haste “phone?”

“mc?!?” cried the voice on the other end

“seven!! lucy, lucy- yell, lu- luceal? how do you, how do you say your name seven? not seven the other name you know the L one the bible name.”

“what? MC? are you drunk? never mind. listen I’m on my way to get you I got your location from your phone already so I’ll be there soon”

“I made friends, seven listen, listen” you pointed your phone towards the group of girls you’d been dancing with “grrl! grrl! you gotta come here my friends on the phone! you know the guy I told you

“fuck that guy!” one of them yelled prompting another to cheer an agreement.

you tried to stifle the laugh that fell from you lips before you replied. “nooooo the other, the other guy the good one remember? oh she’s dancing now.” you held the phone back to your ear to explain “she’s dancing now seven but, she’s so nice and she said, listen she said hyun is” what had she said? the memory was fuzzy now but you did know one thing “hyun is so stupid you know that?”

“MC I’m so sorry about what happened”

“where does he get off pulling that crap?” you broke into a fit of giggles suddenly “wait no I know where he gets off don’t I. Do you think she knows? seven do you think she knew?”

“mc please I’m almost there okay just 3 minutes’ tops can you come outside for me I’ll meet you outside”

“seven I think, I think I need a place to stay cuz, I think I need a place to stay because I lost my key or I gave it away? I don’t know”

“mc come outside please I’m pulling in”

“seven thank you so much oh, oh just a sec” you held the phone to your chest “grrl I gotta go!” you yelled waving at the dancing girls.

one waved back at you quickly before another shouted “you do you girl! YOU do YOU!”

you laugh at that and yell back “Imma do ME” before stumbling towards the door. just as you reached for the handles though the world lurched to one side and you stumbled directly into someone’s chest.

“mc? are you okay? you don’t look good! come on let’s get you out of here.” it took you several long moments before you recognized the car and voice of the man you had run into.

“sev! your here!” seven flinched at your loud voice before raising an eyebrow at you

“MC how drunk are you? like on a scale of 1 to 10”

you looked at your fingers for a moment as if you were trying to count but when your eyes focused back on sevens face your only answer was simply “which one is drunk?”

“okay. That answers that”

“I hate him you know?”

“huh? oh yeah”

“and I, I think he, sev? seven how long do you think?” you asked pulling your knees up to your chest and leaving your heels on the car’s floorboard.

“I don’t know” he admitted solemnly eyes locked on the road and hands in a white knuckle grip on the wheel. the momentary silence in the car was broken by the ringer on your phone playing the telltale love song you had set as Zen’s ringtone. you grimaced and rolled down the window before dropping your phone out of the speeding car.

“what the?!? MC! did you just - “

 “shhhhhh I don’t want to talk about it.” You slurred moving your hand in his vague direction trying to put your fingers to his lips in the classic shushing style but failing miserably.

“I um I’m pretty sure the phones destroyed anyway so I guess that’s that” he mumbled drifting off as you sunk lower in your seat curling in on yourself even more.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this sleepy seven” you mumble before yawning and hugging yourself tight “Hyun may suck but he was always warm ya know? like, like a god damn space heater”

“if your cold I can turn on the heater” seven suggested gently one hand moving to adjust the air conditioner for you

“nooo” you whine grabbing his hand. you gasped the second your skin met his and exclaimed “your hands so cold”. bringing his hand to your face and pressing his icy finger gently against your eyes you mumble “they’re perfect”. after a moment you sigh enjoying the soothing chill against your skin. you didn’t notice sevens blush as he focused resolutely on the road.

 waking the next morning was hell. the blinking red lights of all the electronics in the room were way to bright and none of them went off at the right times. you buried your head into a dark red pillow before slowly things clicked into place. had your head not ached with every movement you would have sat bolt upright in the bed, but considering the angry throbbing in your skull and slight nausea in your stomach you opted to simply bury yourself farther into the bedding around you. the sheets smelled familiar, a semi sweet honey kissed scent that brought to mind cheeky smiles and mischievous winks. between the signature scent and the deep maroon color you knew exactly who’s bed you’d ended up in. sevens. at some point you would have to address all the implications of that fact but first you figured you should start with hangover management. first things first after all. head still buried in the bedding you used one hand to feel around you and get your bearings. when your finger met with a bedside table you searched it for anything to sooth your headache only to hear a quiet chuckle. you groaned shamefully before deciding to simply flip off the man watching you struggle before pulling you hand back into your make shift blanket sanctuary. After a moment you heard the door open and shut before the sound of a glass being set down on the bedside table told you it was okay to reach out again.

“I shouldn’t drink. I never drink? why did I drink? who let me make such a terrible decision.” you grumble to yourself sipping on the water seven had brought you praying to ease your headache.

“we couldn’t reach you to stop you. you turned your phone off.”

“sorry” you said shamefully “I know you don’t like alcohol picking me up probably wasn’t fun was it”

“don’t worry i was too worried about you to be angry” you buried yourself back in the blankets to shield yourself from light again. he was sat facing the bed with his laptop angled to shine away from you, a gesture you were extremely thankful for even if the light still felt blinding.

“thank you for letting me stay here seven. I guess I’ll have to look for someplace new to stay huh? I don’t really want to continue living with, him” you mused

“I uh, I have a guest room. just till you get back on your feet if you want.”

“you sure you and Saeran wouldn’t mind? I don’t want to impose”

“I’ll ask him but I doubt he’ll mind he practically thinks of you as a sister”

“thanks.” you said letting yourself peek out of the blankets just a little “um where’s my phone?” you didn’t like the mischievous smirk that lit sevens face at that question. Your drunk self-had a lot of explaining to do.

 the following weeks where long. putting your life back together seemed to highlight just how much of it you had built around Zen but seven helped the whole way. you had seven send him the info to take over the fan page that you had managed for him. he even helped you replace your phone and block Zen’s number. you and Saeran spent several evenings listening to angry music before eventually you had raged enough to be sad about everything that had happened and then seven was there to cheer you up. he joked around and sent you cute cat pics, one time he even took you to see Ellie while Jumin was at work. after a while you returned to the RFA chat determined to face whatever drama was awaiting you but seven had already handled it. He had banned Zen that first day and let the other members know what was going on so you didn’t have to relive every detail; and for the first time you thought maybe when one door closes, another one opens.

[squeeneyart]

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 10

AO3

Beta reader is @thesnadger who is also writing a TMA AU fic that i love

It's halfway to the weekend.

Martin and Jon sit in the attic.

“Please… put that down.” Martin stared at the seal skin in Jon’s arms, early dawn light bringing out the pattern of dark spots scattered across it. His voice came out strangled, and Jon’s furious expression would’ve stopped it completely if Martin could look straight at him. “You don’t-”

“No. No, you don’t get to tell me to do anything, not until you explain yourself. Until you explain this.” Jon gestured towards the skin, still keeping his voice low.

Slowly rising from his position on the floor, Martin said, “You don’t understand. It’s-”

“I think I understand perfectly.” Jon stood to his full height as well. Martin reeled at the vitriol dripping from his voice. Where was this all coming from? Jon took a slow step to the side, his eyes trained warily on Martin. “But a confession would be appreciated.”

Martin took in a laborious breath, never looking away from his mother’s skin. It was covered in a thick layer of dust, but it still had a sheen where the light hit it. He could almost feel the sting of the wind, the pricking of tears in the corner of his eyes. Had it been sitting here this whole time, just out of sight? It looked so unexpectedly fragile on its own, and Jon’s grip was so tight around it.

Measuring out his voice, Martin said, “You know this was a fishing town years ago, and that skin is very old and delicate. Just set it down, and-”

“Don’t lie to me!” Jon snapped. “And don’t you dare lecture me on its proper care.”

Martin flinched, praying Jon hadn’t been loud enough. “Please be quiet! My mum-”

“It’s hers, isn’t it?” It wasn’t a question. Again, Jon moved a bit to the side, eyeing the trapdoor. “You said it yourself. ‘She can’t get up the stairs on her own’.”

“What are you implying?” Martin’s mouth went dry. A terrible heat crept up his neck. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then enlighten me.” Jon hissed, “before I do something drastic.”

Martin felt his resolve begin to crumble, but he clung to the remains. “Put it down. Please.”

“Not until you admit it. What this is. After everything this week, after everything tonight, you owe me the truth.”

“I...okay. Okay, just-” Pressure welled behind Martin’s eyes, the beginning of a headache. “What do you think it is?”

“A selkie skin. Or a silkie skin, or a seal folk skin, whatever you may call them here.” Jon’s voice, still shaky, took a weirdly proper tone for the circumstance. “Used by their owners to shift into seals. But you knew that, didn’t you? You’ve been hiding it, haven’t you? Keeping it up here, where she can’t reach it. You-”

“I didn’t even know it was up here!” Martin yelled, then slapped a hand over his mouth. He and Jon froze for a moment, listening for signs of a disturbance downstairs.

When there was no sign they’d been heard, Martin let himself drop to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest. His voice shrank to barely above a whisper. “I haven’t seen it since I was a kid."

Jon lowered his shoulders, his dark eyes still cautious. “And you expect me to believe that?”

Martin scoffed, running a hand over his hair. “...Yes? I’m not imprisoning her, she’s my Mum! That’s a thing weird guys do to marry them or whatever. If the skin was up here, it’s because she put it here, probably when my dad left because I haven’t seen her change since then. There, is that believable enough?”

Jon opened and closed his mouth a few times. A small burst of satisfaction quickly faded as Jon failed to respond. Great, Martin thought. In a pinch, he could strike someone silent by oversharing. Why had he even brought that last part up?

Desperate to pivot as far from this line of conversation as possible, Martin glanced at Jon with a miserable expression. “How did you know what it was, anyway? It just looks like seal skin.”

Jon’s face fell, and any indignation was replaced with something unreadable. He looked at Martin as if searching for something.

Martin’s patience had run thin. “Look, you’re the one who demanded honesty, so if you don’t-”

“Fine! Fine.” Jon sighed, loosening his grip. Without looking at Martin, Jon lowered himself to the floor, the skin bunching in his arms. He smoothed out some of the ridges with a gentle hand. “I...I study them. The research I was working on before all of this, it’s focused on selkies. And beings like them, of course.”

Martin squinted at him. “You’re not planning to take the skin, are you? For your ‘research’?” He was too drained of energy to ask with any real conviction.

The shock on Jon’s face was answer enough. “That’s not- I have no intention-”

“Good. Please set it down then.” Martin watched as Jon, still looking uncertain, gently placed the skin next to himself. “Thank you. Now neither of us are touching my mother’s skin. And… to me it was always ‘sea folk’, not ‘seal folk’, so. Put that in your notes or whatever.”

Jon raised his eyebrows. He coughed, pulling at the sleeves of his jacket. “You can’t blame me for being alarmed at the implications of all this. Not with what you seem to know.”

Silence fell. The distance of the floorboard between them felt like a mile, and Martin’s stomach churned from the unexpected stress. The skin lay still on the floor like a bomb ready to detonate, and all Martin could do was stare at it.

“...You call them ‘sea folk’?”

Martin jumped. “What?”

“‘Sea folk’. I hadn’t heard that specific name for them. ‘Selkie’ is the most common in my experience, and the most preferred.”

“...Yeah. It’s what Mum would say, though I suppose she said ‘selkie’ as well.” Where was Jon going with this? “How… how did you know it wasn’t mine? Or, how do you know I’m not one?”

Tapping the floor beside him, Jon said, “I suspected it to be yours at first, but it’s not large enough. Even with its supernatural properties, a selkie skin still follows some basic rules regarding how big it has to be compared to the selkie themselves. A skin of this size would not be able to cover your full height, therefore it would not be yours. As for the latter, I, um.” He looked away, avoiding Martin’s eyes. “I took an educated guess, based on your characteristics and the situation I’d observed.”

“Seriously? That’s all you had?”

“You-” It was Jon’s turn to squint. “Are you one?”

Martin rubbed his eyes. “That’s not really your business, but no, I’m not. In fact, the sea hates me.”

Jon looked puzzled by this. “I don’t believe that’s how it works. It’s a body of water. Yes, it can call out to selkies, but it’s not-”

“Who cares! It’s weird magic shit and sea salt hurts my eyes!” Martin kept a tight hold on his knees and clamped his mouth shut.

For a minute, they sat in complete stillness. Eventually, Jon squirmed in discomfort and attempted to rearrange his legs into a more comfortable position. “I have to say, this isn’t what I expected to find in your attic.” He scratched his face, then lifted his hand and didn’t seem to know what to do with it. It landed in his lap. “I, um. I apologize for jumping to conclusions. Seems I’ve formed a habit of doing so.”

“It’s… it’s okay? I guess? It makes sense, if you’ve mainly heard the stories.” Didn’t mean he had to freak out about it. Martin clicked his tongue. “Have you collected a lot of them? Selkie stories.”

Jon brightened, and it got Martin’s stupid heart going. “Yes! I mean-” Jon cleared his throat, adopting a more professional demeanor. “I’ve tried my best to find accurate accounts, but as I explained earlier, tracking down authentic cases is difficult. Nevertheless, I’ve managed to collect several that I’ve found to be believable.”

“Like what?”

“Um.” Jon stared for a moment, then collected himself. “Well, it depends on where you look.”

Martin rested his chin on his knees and listened to Jon explain some of the things he’d found in his research. Regional differences, preferences toward salt- or freshwater, even some social rituals Martin had never heard of. He was struck by the sheer volume of concepts he didn’t know that he didn’t know.

Slipping between some of Jon’s many thoughts, Martin asked, “Would most selkies know these things?”

“What?” Jon blinked and refocused on Martin, shaken from his ramblings.

“It’s just, Mum never really talked about any of this? All she’d ever mentioned was vague things about the sea and how it ‘feels’ about things.”

“I...I suppose my research wouldn’t necessarily be of interest to all selkies. Many humans don’t care all that much about interesting human facts.”

“Fair point.” Martin picked at his fingernails. “Does that sound like something you’ve come across, though? How the sea ‘feels’? You said that’s not how it works, but you also said something about a ‘call’.”

Jon furrowed his brows and chewed on the inside of his cheek. “It’s… difficult to explain. Descriptions of it are always highly subjective and rely on everyone involved in the conversation having the experience themselves.” Jon must’ve read something in Martin’s face, as he quickly continued, “I can tell you what I’ve heard, though. Just know that it may be a bit… esoteric. Whatever I say is a small part of maybe half the picture.”

When Martin nodded, Jon took in a breath. “While the sea doesn’t seem to ‘feel’ anything like we would, it does have a way of bringing selkies back to it, giving the impression that it wants them. It isn’t something that appears while in the water, but after some time out of it, no matter how far inland, selkies experience what some describe as a voice, or a tug, or some other inexplicable sensation. Through this, a selkie can be… not compelled, but intensely drawn back to the sea.”

“When that happens, the emotional intensity can be enough for some to abandon everything they might’ve built for themselves, at least for a while. It’s not a permanent state as far as I can tell, and for those who regularly return to the water it rarely becomes more than a background noise, if it happens at all.”

“What if they don’t return?”

“I… I don’t know.” Jon glanced toward the window, though nothing was visible save for the slowly lightening sky. “It’s unclear why it happens, or what causes it, or if there are consequences beyond the strange pull not going away. I’ve considered it being a sort of genetic homesickness, but that’s as much of a guess as the sea being sentient.”

Martin sighed. “That’s… yeah, that doesn’t clarify much. I guess I was hoping there was a more solid answer than ‘sometimes the sea calls to them and we don’t know why’.”

Jon smiled sheepishly. “I understand the feeling. If I ever find the answer, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Martin smiled back. Most likely an empty promise, but it was a nice thought all the same.

Jon straightened his back. “In the meantime, if you have other questions, I’d be happy to answer them to the best of my ability.”

“Sure, yeah. Um… any idea how the skin works? It doesn’t exactly have a zipper.”

As Jon dove back into his explanations, he was incredibly animated, as if the strained beginning was now far from his mind. It only took small prompting, a question or comment, to get him going whenever he started to lose momentum. With his head still swimming, Martin let his brain go on autopilot. He was listening, but half his enjoyment was watching how much Jon seemed to be enjoying himself.

Midway through a tangent, Jon scooted closer so as to speak in more hushed tones. “-but instead of removing clothing and other items, the skin simply encases everything on their person. Within reason, of course. They can’t swim with luggage or another person tucked in their pocket.” Jon paused as if waiting for something, though Martin couldn’t imagine what.

When nothing seemed to happen, he continued his thought with expressive hand gestures. “There’s a small lack of physical reality to them, even if they’re about as corporeal as they come, and it makes them better suited to their natural, dual lifestyle. It differentiates them from some other similar beings who, as I’ve mentioned, would have to constantly hide.”

Martin yawned, titling his head onto his upper arm. “Is that why you picked them to study?”

Jon thought for a moment. Seeming to choose his words carefully, he said, “I mean, yes, and as far as I could tell, no one else was seriously looking. Their relationship to humanity is... complicated. I wanted to explore that. And as I said, I like things that feel more real, rather than ‘mind bendy’ as you’d put it. For example, while something like the mystery surrounding your workplace is intriguing, it’s not an area I like to be heavily involved in.”

“Why?”

“Most of the time, it turns out to be… unknowable. Forces that can’t be understood, that just are.” Jon frowned at him apologetically. “Whatever we find, you should brace yourself for a job search.”

Groaning, Martin dropped his head down into his arms. “I don’t want to think about it.” Raising his head, he checked his phone. “Speaking of, I need to get ready for work. It’s already five.” He pushed himself off the ground.

“Really?” Jon checked his as well, his face fully illuminated by the phone screen. He grimaced at something.

“What is it?”

“What? Oh, nothing. Something Tim sent me after he’d finally confirmed that Sasha hadn’t been arrested.” He put the phone away and stood, scooping up the skin and holding it out in front of him. It absolutely swamped his thin arms, and without the backdrop of intense conflict, his attempt to carefully lift it was ridiculously endearing. Blinking, Martin took it and held it to his chest. It smelled of brine and was much tougher than he'd expected.

Jon fidgeted, lacing and unlacing his fingers. “You should give it back to her. Whether or not she can use it, being without it is… It’s an important part of her that she should have. Being trapped without it is one of the worst things a selkie can go through, and it is being trapped, even if the place is somewhere they want to be.”

With his thumb, Martin wiped away some accumulated dust from the skin, and watched as it shimmered in the dull light that crept through the window. He could see it now, how someone like Jon could recognize its unusual nature. It’s the same way he would’ve known his mother from any ordinary seal as she dipped easily between the waves, like she belonged with them. Like she was happy with them.

He squeezed it tighter to himself and nodded. “Okay. I’ll give it to her tonight. I promise.”

“Good,” Jon said with a relieved smile, making Martin’s heart jump. “I’ll leave it to you, then.”

--

“You know, you really should go sleep at your hotel. It’s not like you have to be there at six,” Martin said as they reached the edge of town. The sky grew brighter as they walked, which would have been lovely if he wasn’t fighting his eyes to stay open.

“Our window of opportunity may be limited. Sleep can wait,” Jon explained. Martin didn’t have the energy to argue, though it sounded like a sign of another bad habit.

It was a much easier walk with someone to talk to. The time he would’ve spent purposefully not looking at the lighthouse was taken up with idle chatter and occasional complaints from Jon about the weather. It felt like even the vertigo was more bearable, but perhaps he was just busy looking elsewhere.

Following another poorly-hidden shiver of Jon’s, Martin said, “You know, you could just wear a better jacket. They have them in stores and everything.”

Jon scowled. “Don’t you start. My coat is entirely serviceable, no matter what Tim or Sasha say. Besides, I have a hat.”

“That I gave you!”

“And I have it, don’t I?” Jon adjusted the hat to fit better over his ears. “Thank you, by the way. Though, remind us to give them back before we leave.”

Martin nodded, reigning in a frown. “Have you heard anything about that, yet? Whether you’re all leaving on Friday?”

“No, not yet. Elias may be waiting to hear what we’ve found before he settles on a proper extension, but he hasn’t reached out to me.” He tucked his hands further under his arms. “The original timeline was loose, so I’m expecting we’ll be here at least another week, especially with the information we’ve been able to find so far.”

Another week. It was more than Martin had dared hope for. “Oh. Good! Good, that’s good to know. Less stressful than having to figure it all out in the next two days.”

“Yes, and if we leave on Friday, there’s no doubt that Elias will be wanting more follow up on this place. It may even end up being a longer project, but-” Jon scratched the back of his neck. “If it does, I can’t guarantee the three of us will be involved. Everyone has their specialties, and you know mine.”

“Right. Of course.” He could hear the disappointment slide into his voice. Perhaps, if Martin looked up, the lighthouse would be nice enough to send him flying into the sea. “If that ends up being the case, it was nice working with you all. It’s been a lot less quiet.”

“Can’t imagine it helped with your actual work, but we’re happy to help.” Jon looked down at the ground and opened his mouth to say something else, but instead let out a surprised grunt. Martin felt an elbow around his neck that nearly dragged him off balance.

“Morning, all!” Tim said mid-yawn, his arms looped around Martin and Jon’s shoulders. “Hope everyone had a decent night’s sleep, uninterrupted by chicanery.”

Sasha leaned around Jon’s side to look at the three of them. “Good morning, you two. Hope everyone is ready for a busy day!” As far as Martin could tell, she’d managed to shirk off the exhaustion that Martin felt in his bones.

“Could we start with a power nap?” Tim asked. “Look at these two! Bet they didn’t sleep a wink from how concerned they were for us.” He ruffled Jon’s hair. Jon managed to wriggle free and stand on Sasha’s opposite side.

“As I told Martin, we have a potentially small window of opportunity,” Jon said, smoothing down the sections of hair that Tim had disturbed. “Now that we’re all together, it’s best we go over what we’ve found and cross-reference our library records.”

Sasha nodded. “Then, when it’s not six in the morning, I believe we have a phone call to make.”

[inkribbon796]

Egotober Day 5: Life is Ours to Chose

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31

Prompt: Care

Summary: Wil is not the only mind twisted and affected but the Manor, Dark is not immune to the House’s effects, to the mismatic soul rot that exists therin. There comes a point in every child’s life when they realize that their parents are not invincible, Illinois just thought he already knew that.

A/N: *comes in like a fancy waiter* okay who here at this table ordered a Dark angst special with a side order of WKM implications about that crib that Mark and the team didn’t want to take out of the master bedroom because they didn’t want to move or break anything in the room? No one? Okay, guess I’ll just leave this on the table.

And, yes I know that crib is supposed to 100% have absolutely nothing to do with the plot, but in the same livestream (The “I Explain Everything” livestream the team did for a charity event) he said to ignore him and go with what was in the videos first, so there.

Warnings: none

Illinois had plans for the day, a nice little date with Eric. It had been a while since he’d been able to get Eric alone for some couple’s time. He’d gone to the main warehouse to show face for a bit before slipping away . . . but Dark wasn’t there.

He asked around and Google and Ed hadn’t seen him. He’d never shown up. So Illinois turned back around and went back to the Manor, a bit worried.

Over the years Illinois had figured out or been told information about Dark’s past. About Damien and Celine. Most of this information had been gleaned by Illinois’s curiosity over the years, exploring the Manor and generally being more observant than the rest of his siblings. Other times Dark personally confided the information to him since Illinois already knew things about him. Of course it was nothing overly detailed, just enough to understand.

The information only made the two of them closer. Illinois didn’t know everything about Dark and Wilford’s past, but he knew enough.

So when Illinois walked into the Manor he could feel something was wrong. It wasn’t just quiet, Illinois could almost hear his own blood pumping in his ears it was so quiet.

Then . . .

“Sweetie where are you‽”

Suddenly, at that cry the Manor seemed to fold itself around and Illinois was standing right in front of the master bedroom, the doors thrown open and an absolute mess inside.

Against one of the walls, under a large window was a black metal crib. It had been Bim’s crib when he was a baby. Dark had placed it up in the attic. But this time instead of being under a fabric cloth, it was back in the open, decorated with toys and a mobile overhead with stars. The room was a complete overturned mess. As if someone had been looking for something.

“Marc, where’s—” Dark demanded from behind Illinois, her voice urgent with almost panic.

Illinois looked behind him to see Dark, looking like her red soul. She froze when she met Illinois’s eyes.

The Manor seemed to ripple in some silent command. Dark looked confused before letting out a sigh of relief, “Ugh, it’s been such a long day.”

“Everything okay?” Illinois asked.

“Yeah, sweetie, don’t worry, I just thought,” she looked away, “nevermind.”

“No it’s okay,” Illinois tried to reassure her, as she walked past him and went into the master bedroom to clean up. The adventurer noticed instantly that the crib was conspicuously absent, but there was a clear clean spot in the mess where the crib had once been. “What happened?”

Dark smiled and turned back to pluck his hat off his head and start smoothing down his hair with her other hand. “Don’t you worry about that sweetie, ugh, you have such nice hair, don’t hide it.”

“You usually don’t mind the hat,” Illinois reminded her, and she smiled at him.

Dark held out the hat, “Well you’re a nice boy, and goodness knows you’ve got your father’s confidence but you can never have too much help.”

“My old man’s confidence?” Illinois chuckled, taking his hat back but not putting it back on just yet.

She was already walking to the room, muttering to herself, “Ugh, that bastard probably did this.”

“You need any help?” Illinois offered, something just wasn’t right.

“I’ve got this,” Dark promised, starting to remake the bed, with her hands instead of her aura.

In fact! It had just occurred to Illinois that her aura was completely absent, the red-blue after effects, the ringing echo.

She was just about to finish the bed when she collapsed, screaming bloody murder.

Illinois was next to her in an instant, trying to figure out what was wrong. She was screaming and her suit shirt was starting to darken with blood. Illinois at first didn’t move her, unsure of what had happened but after a bit he was able to stop the bleeding, grabbing the nearest article of clothing.

Dark didn’t bleed out but eventually the pain got too much and she just fell asleep. It was terrifying, Dark didn’t have a pulse and sometimes the Entity just didn’t breath, but Illinois had never seen Dark like this.

He was on the phone with one of Dark’s doctors, one Dark used for Illinois and the others but even when she came over she couldn’t find anything. There was no hole, no cut, not even bruising. But there was a lot of blood.

So Illinois waited by her bedside for Dark to wake up, calling Eric to tell him that the date would have to wait. Another couple of calls and Illinois made sure the network hadn’t noticed anything off and would continue to be running while Dark was out of commission.

Illinois also kept Bim and Yan out of the room. The Manor had righted itself back from whatever had happened while Dark had been acting weird. Wil came in and out, worried but sure she would wake up again.

At around seven at night she did.

“Sweetie?” Dark called out, and Illinois rushed over to her side.

“Mom?” Illinois tried.

“I can’t move,” she sounded terrified, tears started to fall from her eyes.

“I’m right here,” Illinois promised.

“Don’t tell your dad yet,” Dark pleaded. “He . . . I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Illinois promised.

Dark gave a shadow of a smile, looking at him with love and awe, “I don’t know how you came from him. You’re so sweet, are you Wil’s, you have to be.”

Something in Illinois felt like he was being smothered, he couldn’t speak, his voice locked up in his throat for the first time since he’d watched his first adventuring partner die.

Before he could come up with something to comfort her, Dark’s eyes fluttered closed and she fell back into sleep . . . or more likely unconsciousness. Illinois wasn’t sure there was a difference with Dark’s situation.

She left Illinois to brew in his own suspicious thoughts.

This time she wasn’t out long, maybe fifteen minutes, and with it there was that familiar pitched ringing. Illinois held his breath.

“Ugh,” Dark groaned, reaching up to grab at where the blood had first started seeping from. “Where?”

“You okay?” Illinois asked.

Dark jumped, reflexively shifting back to look like his blue form, then he recognized Illinois and changed back. “Oh, it’s you. What happened?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t see you at work so I came looking for you,” Illinois warned. “You weren’t doing so well so I moved you onto the bed.”

Dark picked herself up a bit, looking at the clock, “How long have I been out of the office?”

“A couple hours, no one noticed,” Illinois promised.

She let out a sigh of relief, “At least something went right today.”

Wilford walked in and gasped when he saw Dark was half seated and ran at full speed towards her, jumping on the bed.

“Darky!” Wil shouted and Dark gave a surprised yelp. “How was your nap? I missed you.”

“Missed you too, Wil,” Dark smiled, patting Wil on the arm.

Reading the room, Illinois stood up, “Alright, I’ll step out for a couple minutes, call me if anything changes, alright?”

Dark stopped him, grabbing him by the arm, “Thank you.”

“Any time 엄마,” Illinois told her, Wil had rolled over to Dark’s side and was cuddling next to her.

“Dark,” she corrected.

“Not to me,” Illinois reminded, with all the confidence of a child who usually got away with things his siblings did not. Then with one last check if Dark could move, Illinois left.

He avoided Bim and Yan, there wasn’t any questions the two of them could answer for him. Illinois had known that Wil and Dark had been together for years, and he knew from scant hints he had been confided with, that Dark’s red soul had been with another before that. But he didn’t think that there had been a use for that crib before Bim.

But Illinois had to be sure that wasn’t the case. That there wasn’t a missing sibling out there, even if they might have died years before Illinois had been born. But they were someone worth looking for.

So he went to go find the only person who could possibly have old pre-network records of Egoton: Google.

Google was in the main warehouse, working on some device that wasn’t built enough for Illinois to even guess what it was.

“Why?” Google asked after Illinois asked for old records.

“Because I need that information for research,” Illinois answered. “Shouldn’t take more than about fifteen minutes, and then I’m out of your business.

Google let out a frustrated sigh and a holographic projected screen appeared in front of Google, angled towards Illinois. Illinois started to try and access Egoton’s census records.

“Egoton’s record before 1965 is circumstantial at best,” Google warned as Illinois tried to filter through the information.

“I just need to find records of anyone with the last name Barnum: B-A-R-N-U-M. Probably an adult in the 1920’s or 1930, married.”

Google went silent for a moment, his eyes flashing blue before he looked up, the screen in front of Illinois changed. “Zero individuals found with the last name Barnum.”

Illinois sighed in frustration, “Come on Old Man. Try D-O-O-M.”

“Doom?” Google asked, just staring at him.

“Just do it,” Illinois grumbled, and when the android didn’t seem to be doing anything he added, “please.”

“Zero individuals found with the last name Doom,” Google informed.

“Course,” Illinois grumbled. “Why would he let any records of that survive? How about Doomstrum, D-O-O-M-S-T-R-U-M.”

“Still zero,” Google answered. “I do not know what you could possibly be looking for.”

Illinois was about ready to call it a loss, that he didn’t have any other information. Dark had covered his and Wil’s tracks fairly well. But then a name came into Illinois’s mind. Maybe from some distant memory of one of Wil’s lucid spells where he’d been drunk and jabbering on, or from some paper he had found. Or a name said in contempt when Dark thought no one had heard it.

“One more name and I’m done,” Illinois promised. “Markiplier. I think it’s a stage name. Try Iplier, or I-plier? However it’s pronounced. I-P-L-I-E-R.”

Google rolled his eyes but when quiet again, but this silence lasted longer. After about a minute or two Google brought forward a result. “It’s not in Egoton records but there is a mention of a Mark Iplier in the Los Angeles Evening Express. Date: April 13, 1929. The article is tucked back in the entertainment section, of sorts, the article details that a beloved Broadway actor and his wife are expecting a child.”

“Does it give the name of the kid?” Illinois asked, more hopeful than he should have been.

“No,” Google answered.

“That’s probably the only thing I’m going to get,” Illinois groaned.

“Why are you trying to look through Egoton’s destroyed records?” Google asked, artist to scan through the article. There were no pictures and nothing but human speculation. But it was a lead Illinois had been looking for.

“Just some questions I’ve had about how Egoton was before Dark showed up,” Illinois answered, and Google was more than convinced he was only giving him half the truth to throw the android off the story.

“Is that so?” Google asked, staring at him unblinkingly.

“Hey if you find out more, feel free to tell me,” Illinois shrugged and straightened his hat. “Anyways, if you don’t mind, I have to get back home. See yah Googs.”

Google made an angry hum and watched Illinois leave without even trying to stop him to ask more questions. The young man would head back to the Manor, but Google would start scouring for those names.

His interest was peaked.

[sweetness47]

Gifts from the Sea 2

Pairing Merman! Sam x Human!Reader

Warnings: Sex, smut, language MATURE 18+ READERS ONLY

Chapter 2

(like it? find chapter 1 here )

Eight months, three weeks, and 5 days after her encounter with her handsome stranger, YN’s water broke at 3:00am. Contractions seized through her abdomen, causing her to cry out, and Cas and Hannah to come running. They gathered up her hospital bag, then helped her to the car.

Evan Cole arrived into the world at 11:00am, 8 lbs 3 oz. YN held the tiny bundle in her arms, marvelling over his brown hair, his tiny fingers and toes. Cas and Hannah were also thrilled at the new arrival. Hannah had been her coach, and YN had been beyond thankful and blessed to have her in the room during the delivery. Cas had volunteered to wait outside, not all that thrilled with blood and the whole birth stuff. But now, holding the baby in his arms, he couldn’t be more proud of YN. Sure, it had started out as a fling, but now he wouldn’t trade his little second cousin for anything.

YN had been able to take some of her pastry courses and business courses online during her pregnancy, and had also applied for a work permit to set up a shop in Greece where she’d had her vacation. There was a part of her that hoped to see the handsome stranger, but she wouldn’t hold those expectations high. She’d only be setting herself up for more heartbreak.

Cas and Hannah decided they would move with her, and had applied for visas as well. They would help her set up the shop and help with the baby. All three were great bakers, hence YN’s desire to open her own bakery, so they were more than up for the challenge. Greece would be an interesting client base, they already had amazing food. It was YN’s mission to make sure they grew to love her baking as much as she loved their authentic Greek cuisine.

Once the visas were sent in for approval, the three studied locations that would work, YN’s first choice was near the beach where she’d had the best vacation of her life. After some research and some careful negotiations, they purchased a building right on the boardwalk. The visas came through eventually, and the family of four made their way to what would be their new home.

~~

Sam and Charlie noticed the sold sign on the building, wondering what would be coming to the shops square. They had been living on the land now for just over a year, and with each moment that passed, Sam lost just a little bit of hope. If they didn’t find her soon, he would just swim away, and never look back. She was his whole world, and he hadn’t realized just how much she meant to him until it was too late. He should have left her a note, and he should have come back sooner.

As the weeks came and went, the two friends watched the building transform, watched workers move about and make the abandoned structure into a bakery. They saw a dark haired man and a woman with long strawberry blonde hair enter and exit many times. Perhaps they were the owners. The man looked like he was from around this area. His features could easily blend in with the locals.

Sam almost missed the other woman, but when he laid eyes on her, there was no mistaking who she was. His heart practically leapt out of his chest. He blinked repeatedly, not believing what he was seeing, worried that if he blinked, she would disappear, and this would all be a lucid dream.

Charlie noticed her friend’s instant shock, turning to see what had him in such a riled state. “Is that her?” she asked quietly.

Sam could only nod. He frowned then, noticing the small moving bundle in her arms. His mind was racing, could…could he have left her with a child? His eyes misted over. His mate, his child, and he’d just left without so much as a note. He felt like such an idiot.

As if sensing the shift in his mood, Charlie studied the small group of people harder, finally noticing the same thing he had. “Is the child yours?”

A hoarse voice answered her. “I think so.”

~~

YN was so excited. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening. The finishing touches were going on now, and the bakery would be open in three days. Cas and Hannah had been such a tremendous help with everything, the paperwork, the building details, the permits, and the baby.

She didn’t know what made her turn around, a feeling maybe, but when she did, her eyes immediately locked with his. Her jaw hit the ground in stunned silence. She bit her lower lip. Should she go talk to him? Introduce Evan? She honestly wasn’t sure. And besides, there was another woman beside him, which would make the conversation awkward as fuck.

And yet her conscience wouldn’t leave her alone. She knew he had a right to know. Even if he had moved on. The child was his.

Taking a deep breath, she excused herself, telling Cas she’d be back in a minute, and started to walk toward him. After what looked like a hushed angry conversation, he started walking toward her, meeting her halfway.

His eyes raked her in, her body just as he remembered, then he looked at the child. He touched the infant’s cheek, running his finger over the smooth skin. He looked up at YN. “Mine?” his words were barely a whisper.

She nodded, mesmerized by his voice. That was the first time she’d heard him speak, and fuck, his voice was as sexy as the rest of him. She felt heat rush straight to her core. She cleared her throat. “Yeah.”

His next words shocked her even more. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have up and left the way I did. I meant to come back, but by the time I did, you were gone.”

She felt tears well up in her eyes. “Why did you then? I…,” she broke down, “I was heartbroken. I tried to enjoy the rest of my stay here, but it wasn’t the same without you. I went home, and then I found out I was pregnant. He was a gift, a way for me to remember you, he brought me back from my depression.”

Charlie, who had wandered over mostly out of curiosity, was the one who caught the pronoun. “He? You have a son Sam.” She breathed, staring at the tiny infant. Then she turned to YN. “Does he have a birthmark? Specifically, one that looks like a trident.” she added.

YN frowned. “How…How did you know that?”

Sam answered. “Every male born into my family does.”

As if to prove it, not that he felt he needed to, he turned and pulled down his neck line of his tee shirt on the right side. Sure enough, on the shoulder blade, was a birthmark shaped like a trident, identical to the one on Evan’s right shoulder.

He stared at the child, then back up to YN. “Can I hold him?”

YN nodded, handing the sleeping infant over to his father. “His name is Evan.” She volunteered as she watched him settle into his father’s embrace.

Sam was in awe. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was. Hell, he couldn’t believe the fates had allowed him another chance with YN. And a child. A beautiful, tiny, baby boy.

YN watched the two interact, smiling as she watched Sam’s eyes travel over the tiny infant. She was amazed at Evan’s instant attraction to his father. Evan was very particular about who held him. He barely tolerated Cas and Hannah. YN swore he knew the man holding him was his dad.

Charlie came up to her, clearing her throat. The last thing she wanted was to become an obstacle between her friend and his mate. She needed to set the record straight. “Sam and I aren’t a couple, if that’s what you first thought when you saw us. We’re just friends, plus I’m his bodyguard. Nothing beyond that.”

Bodyguard? Why on earth would Sam need a bodyguard? Oh. My. God. Was he like royalty or something? That might explain his sudden disappearance, but then why had he come back? There were so many unanswered questions.

Charlie saw the confusion in YN’s eyes. “I will let him explain. He will tell you everything, I promise. But it won’t be easy to hear or believe. Just know that he never stopped looking for you.”

YN nodded. “Ok. But why does he need a bodyguard? Is…is he like royalty or something?”

Charlie took a deep breath. “He needs to tell you everything, but yes, he is royalty.”

Before anything else could be said or asked by either of the three adults, Cas made his way over to where YN stood. “Who are these people YN?”

Sam bristled at the implication that he was anything other than Evan’s father. “My name is Sam, and I’m the child’s father. Who are you, sir, to be interrupting us?”

It was Cas’s turn to be put off. “I’m YN’s cousin. I’ve been her guardian since she was 10 years old.” He narrowed his eyes at Sam. “You have some nerve showing up after abandoning my cousin and leaving her pregnant. You’re lucky I don’t beat the shit out of you for the upset you caused.”

“Cas. Stop.” YN placed a hand on his shoulder. “This is my fight. Not yours. I don’t need you stepping in. Please. Let me handle it.”

Cas glared at Sam once more before turning to YN. “Ok. But the moment he steps out of line…”

“I get it. IF I need help, I will let you know. Ok?”

He nodded before giving her a hug and walking back to Hannah and the building. YN blushed as she turned back to Sam. “Sorry. Cas can be a bit overprotective.”

“I get it. Hell, I deserved that.” Sam rubbed the back of his neck as he watched the other man walk away. “Can we go somewhere and talk? There’s so much I need to tell you, but not out in the open.”

YN looked at him, gauging his facial expressions. She couldn’t see any hint of deception, only concern and maybe fear. What would a man like him need to be afraid of? His fingers brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch soothing, warm, familiar.

Steeling herself, she nodded. “Ok.”

Charlie mumbled an excuse to leave, nodding to Sam permission to go to their house. Sam took YN’s hand and led her through the paths and narrow walkways to their cottage on the shore.

Once inside, YN made a soft makeshift bed for Evan, then took him from Sam and set the infant down to sleep. Then she stood and looked at Sam, trying not to appear shy and awkward. She took a deep breath as her eyes raked him in, committing every single inch of his perfect body to memory. Even after not seeing him for over a year he still took her breath away. He looked every bit as scrumptious as the last time she’d seen him. Her body hummed and came alive as she closed the distance between them. Her pussy was drenched, aching for him.

He could smell her desire. It called to him like moth to flame, luring him to his destiny. The moment she was in arms reach, he took possession of her, wrapping his arms around her waist and reeling her in, his mouth seeking to possess hers. He thrust his tongue inside her parted lips, dancing with her own tongue, and felt her melt into him. His strong arms swiftly picked her up and carried her toward his room, placing her on the bed. He removed his clothes, then hers, his movements quick and precise. It was almost too much to even be away from each other for that long, the need to be skin to skin was magnetic, life changing, as if they would perish if they weren’t fast enough. He moved over her, nudging her legs apart, and she happily complied, then he was inside her, thrusting hard, her body meeting him stroke for stroke, her soft cries filling the room as he edged her toward the cliff, pushing her into oblivion, his name falling from her lips as she came swiftly, her back arching off the bed. Sam joined her moments later, spilling inside her womb, filling her completely.

He kissed her along her throat, neck, shoulder, and YN gasped as she felt a small sting on the nape of her neck. Her hand flew to the spot where she’d felt the small stab, her fingers finding a tiny lump. Her eyes looked into Sam’s, wondering what the hell had happened.

Sam finally rolled off her and held her close. She still looked up at him, waiting for an explanation, but made no move to remove herself from his embrace.

“What’s going on Sam? Why do you need a bodyguard? Who are you?”

This was going to be one hell of a long, long conversation.

Sam sighed, looking at his mate. He searched her eyes for signs of anxiety, fear, and especially the desire to run from him. The latter was the one he was scared of the most. The thought that she could reject him after revealing the truth almost killed him right there, but there was no way to keep his identity hidden from her, especially now.

A son. He had a fucking son. A part of him. His heir. His flesh and blood. His and hers.

He caught a silky tendril of hair falling haphazardly around her face and tucked it behind her ear. “What I’m going to tell you won’t be easy to hear or easy to believe. In fact,” he paused, “it’s going to make me sound like a damn lunatic.”

YN watched Sam as he chose what to say, as if the next word might send her packing faster than gale force winds. “I promise to listen to everything, and I promise not to laugh or judge you.”

Taking a deep breath, Sam sat up, bringing her up with him, turning so they were face to face. “My name is Prince Samuel. I am second in line for the throne of Atlantis, the underwater kingdom of the Pacific oceans.”

YN stared, unmoving, slowly nodding for him to continue.

He did.

“I’m a merman. My home is the ocean.”

He stopped and waited, hoping, praying that she would stay calm, rational. That she wouldn’t freak out, treat him like some kind of extraterrestrial. If there was ever a time for wishes to come true, it was now. There was no way he could deal with the idea of her rejection. His heart would shatter, break beyond repair. He’d played billions of scenarios over and over in his mind, some good, some not as good, some completely devastating.

Her voice sounded surprisingly at ease as she processed his revelation. “That would explain a lot, like how you appeared on the beach out of nowhere, why you were naked, and maybe why you disappeared after two days. But, why didn’t you come back?”

“I intended to,” he confessed, “although I did need to soak in the ocean regardless. Our bodies can’t be out of the water for more than 48 hours at a time. But, by the time I went home and came back, you were gone. Charlie and I stayed in hopes that maybe you’d return here.”

Her brows furrowed. “So, you basically ran away from your family to wait for a possibility that I might come back here?” He nodded. Her eyes widened suddenly. “Oh my…so our son is…?”

He nodded again. “He is part merman, part human. His tail, from what I hear, should start to form when he reaches the age of two. But it is controlled, and it only will happen when he swims in salt water.”

“From what you hear? You’re insinuating your people don’t usually have offspring with humans. How many times has this happened? And is there a chance Evan won’t survive? Will he…”

Sam stopped her. “YN, our son won’t die. You have my word. A Halfling hasn’t been heard of for over a hundred years. Mostly it’s dwindled down to whispers and remnants of recorded history.”

YN flopped backwards onto the bed, stunned, shocked by what she’d just been told, her mind trying desperately to process everything while attempting to keep her sanity. “Wow.” She breathed. She glanced warily over to the man beside her, remembering something else. “What did you do to my neck?”

“I marked you. It is customary between mates, like being engaged in your world. It will show my people you are my mate.” He paused. “Unless you don’t want me. The mark can be removed, with your rejection of my bond, but it could be devastating for both of us, physically and mentally. I can feel every emotion going through your mind, and I know how difficult it was for you to be alone during the pregnancy. But, I plan to make up for that from this day forward, if you’ll have me.”

YN let out a slow shaky breath, weighing her options. She still had feelings for Sam, a lot of them, and, if this moment was any indication, he had similar feelings for her. They had a son together, and he’d already made his interest in Evan known, which she was immensely relieved about. He had no intention of taking him from her. Rather, he wanted them to be together, to be a family. Was she ready for that? She stared into those hazel orbs of his, seeing hopefulness, desire, a silent plea to her heart.

“I do want you. I never stopped loving you Sam. But I want to know more. I want you to show me everything. No secrets, no hiding.” She pursed her pink lips, still swollen from their heated kisses, “If Evan will be able to swim without drowning, and you obviously can, how does that work for me?”

“The mate mark. My DNA now runs through your veins. It will allow you the ability to breathe under water without drowning. You don’t get a tail, at least not to my knowledge, but we will be able to be together.”

A mischievous grin appeared on her face when he said that. “And…if we decide we want to have more mind-blowing sex, we can always come ashore.” She giggled at his reaction, before pushing him back onto the mattress, straddling him. “I love you Sam. I am willing to give this whole thing a try, for us, and for Evan.”

Sam nodded, his hands splayed over her hips as she ground against his cock, bringing it back to life. Instinctively he thrust up into her, and she moaned at the sensations coursing through her body, at how full he made her feel. Gods, he was impossibly thick and long. Yet her walls stretched and accommodated him well, as though he was made just for her.

He turned the tables then, flipping them over and taking back control. He pulled out, much to her dismay, before laying soft kisses along her breasts, her abdomen, then lower, settling down between her thighs. That’s where his prize lay.

YN forgot how to breathe as he delved into her folds, tasting the musky flavor she offered. Sam was like a man starved, sucking her clit, nipping it, then thrusting his tongue into her waiting channel. Clutching the sheets, YN squirmed as she ground against his face, desperate for it to be closer, as if that were possible. Her release coated Sam’s face as he rode out the explosive orgasm. But he didn’t stop. He added two fingers into her slick opening, moving them with antagonizing slowness, torturing his mate. Not that she was complaining.

Sweat coated her skin as she screamed out, orgasmic waves crashing into her as her eyes rolled back in her head. “Fuck…Sam!” she stammered as he continued, heading to her third, arching her back off the bed as she saw stars. Her whole goddamn body felt like it had been catapulted into space, covered in fluffy cotton candy. So sweet was the pleasure.

Sam crawled back up her body slowly, his tongue leaving a hot trail over her. His mouth took possession of hers once more as he sought to reclaim his spot inside her with his aching cock. She eagerly welcomed him, moaning as she tasted herself on his lips. The thrusts were hard, almost brutal, so eager was the need for his own release. His cries filled the room as he exploded inside her, filling her full of his seed, panting and nuzzling into the crook of her neck as her walls milked every drop.

No sooner had they finished, then Evan woke, crying and desperate for his own attention. YN blushed as she got up, grabbed her robe, and went to fetch their son. She brought him back to the bed and laid him down between Sam and her, as she got back onto the bed.

Sam propped himself onto his elbow so he could stare at his son. Evan, satisfied that he now was the center of attention, cooed and smiled at his father, reaching his tiny hand to try and grab Sam’s nose. Sam softly chuckled as he allowed Evan to touch his nose, marveling at just how perfect he was.

YN’s heart was filled with love as she watched her son interact with his father. She marveled at how alike they looked, and how Evan seemed to know who Sam was to him. But that was impossible right? Until today, Evan had never met his dad. He was only 4 months old.

Yet the recognition was there.

YN moved and slid part of her robe down so she could feed Evan. Sam watched as his son moved to latch onto her breast, greedily taking the nourishing milk she offered. The entire scene was beautiful, and he gained even more respect for his mate than before, if that was possible.

When Evan was done and had burped in satisfaction, he resumed bonding with Sam. YN was more curious now than ever. She just had to ask. “How is it Evan seems to know you?”

Sam looked up from his son. “My DNA. He can smell who I am.”

YN giggled and wrinkled her nose. “That just sounds weird, and a little gross.”

“That’s the simplest description though. His mind and his senses tell him right from birth who his parents are. He will also, by smell, be able to identify my brother and my father when he meets them.”

Her jaw dropped. “Wow.”

[fangirlshrewt97]

Doctor Who (2005) Fic - The Goldilocks Vacation Conundrum

Title: The Goldilocks Vacation Conundrum

Author(s): Fangirlshrewt97

Fandom: Doctor Who (2005)

Pairing: None

Characters: Thirteenth Doctor, Yaz Khan, Ryan, Graham

Rating: General

Warnings: None

Banned Together Bingo Prompt: Alien Weatherman

Additional Tags: Crack-ish, Prompt: Alien Weatherman, Banned Together Bingo 2020, Humor, The Doctor does not know how to pick human appropriate vacation spots, Poor Graham keeps falling because of the Doctor’s poor TARDIS parking skills, Post Season 10

Summary: Essentially, a semi-crack-ish fic where the Doctor tries to suggest vacation spots to her companions, and misses the mark. Until she gets it right.

After all, third time is the charm.

Excerpt:

The Doctor swiped through a few more potential vacation spots, this time, Ryan joining them. There were several that caught the eyes of the crew, but each time that Graham asked for the dangers, there was always one.

Tentacle monsters, giant crabs, Multiple-headed monsters, noxious gas, acid-spitting monsters, poisonous fruits, monsters with giant horns, unfriendly natives, evil tyrannical rulers that were wary of tourists. What was with all the monsters, honestly?

By the end, Ryan and Yaz had joined back on the steps with the Doctor standing in front of them.

 Link to A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25314952

                                                          /// 

The TARDIS fam were sitting on the steps next to the central console waiting for the Doctor to return. She had said she would only be a moment and for them to stay.

“I just need to grab this one thing from a friend, I’ll be back before you know it. No need for you to follow me!” she had said, bouncing around the console as the TARDIS landed on another planet, nearly sending Graham to the floor from the abrupt stop.

“But doc-” Graham had started to protest only for her to already be halfway out the door, coat in one hand, and an extremely long rainbow scarf in the other.

“Five minutes at most. Just wait here!” was all the humans heard before the door swung shut.

Graham sighed. “Well that is not going to happen.”

“Who wants to bet she will get stuck on an adventure?” Ryan had asked, mischievous glint in his eyes.

Yaz barked a laugh. “What kind of a naive idiot do you take me for Ryan? The bet should be the kind of adventure she goes on. My guess is tentacle monster.”

“You’re on, I think it is alien species that wants to conquer the planet.”

“Ohhhh, good one, damn I want to change my bet.”

“No way too late!”

“Graham, what about you?”

“I don’t know about the doctor, but personally, I am going for an adventure to the kitchen. I want tea.” Graham had said, waiving off the groans from the other two. He did press the pedal to get a creamy custard biscuit as he walked by though.

That had been almost four hours ago. In the meantime, Graham had had his tea and biscuits, finished his book, taken a small nap, and wound up back in the console room, playing poker with Yaz and Ryan. The younger two members of the ship had tried to venture out of the ship, only to find they were parked at the top of a very steep cliff with no houses or identifiable signs of civilization in sight. And rather than risking getting lost, had ventured back into the ship.

Graham was chuckling as he won the hand for the fifth time in the row, collecting the candy they were using as betting markers when the Doctor burst into the room, tracking mud throughout the entrance as loud bird screeching followed her. She quickly barricaded the door with the bar she kept next to the door and ventured inside.

“Well fam, sorry for the delay, but I see you kept yourselves entertained.”

“Say doc, have you ever actually run an errand where things didn’t go tits up?” Graham asked as he opened one of the mints from his winnings. From the corner of his eye, he saw Yaz passing some money to Ryan.

“I resent the implications Graham, I will have you know I have had plenty of successful errands where nothing went wrong.”

At the silence from the three humans, she looked up from she was fiddling with the console controls again. “I have!”

Graham scoffed as Yaz made an empathetic noise and Ryan rolled his eyes fondly.

“Sure you have Doctor.” Ryan said as he stood up.

The Doctor’s comeback was interrupted by a piercing cry and the distinct sound of claws (or talons) against wood.

“Whoopsie, looks like we have overstayed our welcome!” The Doctor said before pulling down the lever. The trio of humans just managed to brace themselves before the ship took off, shaking like a teacup during an earthquake.

After a couple more minutes, the wheezing sound faded as the ship managed to land somewhere.

“Hey Doctor, where are we?” Yaz as as she peered into one of the monitors on the console. It was still displaying that odd (but beautiful) circular writing the Doctor had called Gallifreyan, but she could also make out a landscape. It was a flat field, with what looked like medium height grasses (green), under a clear sky (purple, which weird but cool), and a scattering of trees that almost resembled pine trees but had normal leaves.

“Ah, thanks for asking Yaz! Welcome to Brosha, in the Aresa galaxy. I figured I owed you guys a proper vacation, and this place has the best food this side of the Andromeda galaxy made from corn. Well, it is actually eir but tastes very similar to Earth’s corn. Looks similar too!”

The three humans were not looking at her as impressed as she was hoping. Her smiled dimmed a bit. “No?”

Ryan answered. “Doctor, that is really nice of you, but none of us are really big fans of corn. Also you are hiding something from us.”

“No I am not.”

Yaz chuckled. “Yes you are. You have a tell.”

“I do not!”

“You do too!”

“I do not!”

“You do too!”

“I-”

Graham cut off the childish squabbling. Honestly one was an officer of the law, and the other was a two thousand year old alien. It was undignified. “Alright enough. Doc, this sounds nice, but what’s the catch?”

“There are, rarely, every once in a while, stampedes of these huge moose like things. But honestly the chances of that happening while we are there are-”

“Sky high. Doc, we tend to always be around for the once in a blue moon situations. How about elsewhere?” Yaz said gently.

The Doctor pouted, but turned and fiddled with her monitor before brightening.

“Oh, I got one. What about Brakem in the Uccas galaxy? Hot springs filled with healing crystals, soaps and scents from around the universe. Never really rains, two suns, three moons. Gorgeous orange skies.”

“And?” Ryan asked, a wicked smirk on his face.

“Doc, this would be easier if you just mentioned the catch too.” Graham added.

“Average temperatures outside of the resorts are about 40℃.”

No way in hell. Mainly cause it sounded to be about the same temperature. “Next option Doc.”

The Doctor whined but looked at her monitor again. Graham went to sit on the stairs, he had a feeling they’d be there for a while.

“Ok, fine. How about, um, no not that one, ooh that would be, no nevermind, oh! No.” The Doctor muttered as she swiped at her monitor. Yaz went to stand beside her, watching her flick past some amazing landscapes. One in particular caught her eye, and she must have a sound because the Doctor looked at her. “Yaz?”

“What’s that?”

“This one? This is Chebara.” On the screen was a massive lake, extending seemingly to the horizon. The sky was so purple, but so clear she could almost make out stars and other planets in the photo. To one side of the lake she could see a massive hill rising from the ground, clouds covering it from about midway. In the middle of the lake, giant trees that seemed to be floating?

“Are those trees floating?”

“Oh yes, they are Ubal trees, their fruits produce dyes that don’t fade even after a thousand years. Very valuable.” The Doctor explained, glee filling her eyes again.

“Is it safe?” Graham asked. He loved the Doctor, but safety somehow never made it into the woman’s priority list.

“Graham, where is the fun in that?” The Doctor asked, only to be met with a raised eyebrow that would not be swayed. She sighed. “There is a small chance we may encounter the giant alligator-hippos that inhabit the lake.”

“No.”

“But Yaz wants to go!” the Doctor protested.

“Actually Doctor, I think just the photos might be enough. We have had so many adventures, and I would really like a vacation before we head back to the fray.” Yaz said, apologetic.

The Doctor’s shoulders slumped. “Back to the drawing board then.”

The Doctor swiped through a few more potential vacation spots, this time, Ryan joining them. There were several that caught the eyes of the crew, but each time that Graham asked for the dangers, there was always one.

Tentacle monsters, giant crabs, Multiple-headed monsters, noxious gas, acid-spitting monsters, poisonous fruits, monsters with giant horns, unfriendly natives, evil tyrannical rulers that were wary of tourists. What was with all the monsters, honestly?

By the end, Ryan and Yaz had joined back on the steps with the Doctor standing in front of them.

“Guys come on, I promise, the vacation will be fine, I’m sure the bad things won’t happen, they are all statistically very unlikely.”

Graham stood up and walked to the Doctor, laying a sympathetic hand on her forearm. “Doctor, I am sure you have noticed, but let me point it out again. We are kind of one-in-a-million central here. All I want is someplace to put my feet up, a nice cuppa, maybe a chance to tan.” Graham said. Beside him, Yaz and Ryan nodded in agreement.

The Doctor stood in front of the three humans, arms crossed, and cheeks puffed out like a squirrel. Yaz internally squealed at how adorable this couple thousand year old alien could be.

The Doctor tapped out a distracted pattern on her forearm before brightening. “I know the perfect place!” she said.

And then, without waiting for the companion’s response she went back to the console and pressed a few buttons before pulling the lever.

The TARDIS’s wheezing sound was heard before the ship rattled and transported. Graham, who had been standing on the stairs still fell hard on his butt. Ryan and Yaz managed to stumble forward and brace themselves on the console.

“Ow Doc, a couple more rough landings, and you are going to owe me a new hip!” Graham complained as he rubbed the small of his back. Ryan came to his side, helping his sit up against one of the columns around the console.

“Sorry about that Graham! I just thought of the perfect place for a lovely holiday, and wanted to get us there ASAP!”

Ryan and Yaz exchanged glances before looking at her hesitantly. “So…”

“Where are we?”

If possible, the Doctor’s grin got even wider, her eyes alight with delight. “My lovely fam, welcome to Earth, third planet in the solar system, in the outskirts of the Milky Way galaxy. We are in present day Sheffield, the temperature is a pleasant 23℃, there is a humidity of 65%, and chance of rain is 7%!” The Doctor said as she clapped her hands once in delight. Ryan shook his head at the antics of the Time Lord and began to chuckle.Yaz started to giggle before the Doctor waggled her eyebrows at her, at which point she burst out laughing, using the console edge to keep from falling over. Even Graham had a grin on his face as he continued to rub his back. He used the column to brace himself and got up.

“How long will we be staying then doc?”

The Doctor swayed back and forth on her toes and heels. “Up to you guys. How long do you want to stay?”

“Wait, you are staying too right?” Yaz said, squinting at the Time Lord.

The Doctor brought up her hands in surrender. “I’ve got a whole universe Yaz!”

“And I’ve got a spare room with your name on it. Come on, just stay. I know we don’t have crystal pools or floating trees, but Charlie’s pub down the block serves some of the best falafels in the country.”

The Doctor bit her lip, but looking at the hopeful faces of her companions, she gave a single nod.

“Alright, why not.”

She turned and pressed a couple buttons, dimming the lights of the main area of the TARDIS. “There, she is in hibernation. Let’s go enjoy Sheffield.”

With a cheer from the humans, the Doctor let herself be led outside by her fam. Yaz dragging her by the wrist as Ryan lightly pushed her from the back, with Graham closing the ship doors behind himself.

Sometimes, the best vacation from a life traveling was a little bit of home.

[marper-didnt-die-for-blecho]

Diablesse Pt. 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Bonus

Read it all on AO3

I’m so glad y’all liked Part 1 so much! Thank you so much for all of the nice comments! I hope you all enjoy

The ugly little bug rounded the corner, Chloè hot on its heels, prepared to smash it with the first book she found.

What she was not prepared for was to almost trample over Adrien and Kagami of all people. She made a mental note to pitch a fit about that later. There were more pressing issues than Adrien’s love life. Wait, did she really just place Marinette’s safety above Adrikins? Ugh! The things she does for heroism! After all of this was over, she was so going to the spa. Maybe a gym. She needed to hit something.

“Woah there, in a rush?” Kagami’s smirk and eyebrow raise infuriated Chloè for some unknown reason, but she told herself that they could have formal introductions later. Ladybug was counting on her!

“I don’t have time for... whatever you two call yourself doing.”

“Having lunch? Spending time together? That is a thing that friends do, right?” Kagami looked at Adrien, who wanted to disappear. He’d rather fight an akuma by himself than to be the one to officially introduce the two of them. He loved them both, and he was grateful that all of his female friends had bite to them, but... Yikes, you know? Fortunately for him, or unfortunately unbeknownst to him, Chloè apparently didn’t have time for her usual order of drama.

She pointed at the akuma that had somehow not been noticed by either of them. “You’re in my way. Now move.” She shoved past them as they turned around to see where she was pointing.

“An akuma!? But why?” Kagami started to follow Chloè, but stopped when she noticed Adrien wasn’t following her. “Are you not going to come with us?”

Adrien panicked and started trying to find a way out so he could transform. “It’s not that.. It’s... I’m... other civilians... girl’s bathroom... you know? Yeah..”

Chloè rolled her eyes “Adrikins, don’t tell me you’ve let them dumb you down to the point that you can no longer speak. If your fear of entering the girls bathroom is more important the Marinette, then just go evacuate people.” With that, her and Kagami pushed into the bathroom, missing Adrien freeze in his place face full of concern before he ran back around the corner to warn the school.

“Wait... Marinette?” Kagami was confused. Since when did Chloè care about Marinette? Since when did she care about Marinette, she asked herself as she followed the blonde anyways.

Chloè cleared her throat, “Dupain-Cheng, where are you? I know you’re in here.” There was a gasp from one of the stalls.

“Chloè just... just get out of here, okay? I really don’t need your crap right now.”

“Oh? Getting a little pissy in your time of sadness, aren’t you?” Chloè raised one of her eyebrows, a little impressed. “Anyways, I’m not going anywhere. There’s a shitty butterfly in here and it’s my duty as a hero to try my best to protect all civilians... even ungrateful ones like you. Now open that door right now. Kagami and I are here to help.”

“Kagami’s here too?” Marinette groaned. “Just what I need, another person who doesn’t like me seeing me at my worst.” Her voice was thick with silent tears, ones that were no doubt still falling down her face.

“To be fair, I didn’t know it was you until about 10 seconds ago, if that makes you feel better.” Kagami shrugged, more focused on locating the akuma than anything.

“Ugh! That’s not going to help her at all. Marinette, stop being so utterly ridiculous and open the stall before we break it. You’re not fighting this off alone! I won’t allow it!”

There was a beat of silence. Maybe two, and possibly three, but eventually, Marinette opened the door with a small, sad smile on her face.

“Great!” Chloè strode into the too small stall. “Now you listen here. You are not going to let the Akuma get to you, you understand me? I will not give that deceitful harpy the satisfaction!” She turned around. “You hear me, Hawkmoth? You can’t have her! So get your repulsive little minion and go away!”

“Chloè, what are you trying to do, protect Marinette by getting angry enough and sacrificing yourself?”

“We don’t know each other very well, but I heard you were supposed to be extremely observant. Marinette is probably one of the only two people in all of Paris that hasn’t been akumatized. Well... People of quasi...” she sighed, accepting that she might have to actually... compliment her. “Importance.” Chloè scrunched up her face, hoping that she never had to do that again.

Marinette, who was still standing on top of the toilet, let out a tiny giggle. “Chloè did you just compliment me?”

Chloè was too busy trying to deny the claim to notice the akuma flutter away through the door, but Kagami wasn’t. “There it is!”

“We can’t let it get away!” Chloè started to follow it again.

“I wonder what happened for you to almost get akumatized in the first place.” It was mostly under her breath, and she figured it was okay to ask due to the fact that the akuma was gone, but Kagami spoke loud enough for the girls to hear her. And apparently Marinette experienced her emotions as if they were a roller-coaster because the akuma immediately turned around back towards Marinette, who wasn’t giggling anymore. Kagami felt a little remorseful, if only because of the fact that she had probably just pissed Chloè off for the second? Third? Third time since meeting her. She was really bad with first impressions.

Chloè wondered why she even tried. What even was the point of doing anything heroic, if people just kept... interfering by opening their mouths. She briefly wondered if Ladybug had to deal with stupidity outside of her costume. She was going to call her father and have him make it illegal for idiots to talk, she swore.

Well... If she made it through this that was.

She threw her phone at the akuma, but it easily avoided it, flying straight into a charm hanging out of Marinette’s pocket. Scrambling to pick her phone back up, she turned back to look at the girl, just as Marinette chucked what seemed to be her purse at Chloè. “Take it and run.”

“What’s so important inside of this bag that you’d rather protect it than fight off the akuma?” Was everyone ridiculous? What even?

“Marinette you can fight him off.” Kagami said as Chloè opened the bag. “You’re stronger than him.

Oh.

OH.

She didn’t have time to be angry, or react at all even. They needed to go, now.

Chloè grabbed Kagami’s arm. “We need to leave. We have to go find Chat Noir.”

Before Kagami could respond, the familiar purple coated Marinette. They stood there and watched her transform, The transformation started in the akumatized object, as it always did of course, turning the charm into a tail. That was new. Then she was swallowed by purple, the other two girls too entranced to look away.

When she was visible again, Chloè swore she did not almost throw up. She swears on her.. Well, not her miraculous, but she swears.

Chloè saw red, literally. Marinette, or whatever she called herself, had red skin and black hair. Her signature pigtails were sharper, and seemed to now also be horns on top of her head. Her outfit, not tacky for once thank heavens, was a black romper with little black wings, a red chest area, and red hearts accenting her torso. She wore black thigh high boots with wings to match the ones on her back and red gloves that reached halfway up her upper arm. Behind her, her wings didn’t move, but her tail sure did. A skinny black tail that ended in a heart. Hearts also adorned her face, her neck piece, and there was also one right below her bust. Chloè had no doubt that there were probably even more hearts on her back. The whites of her eyes had also turned yellow. In hindsight, this was probably one of the only attractive akumas she’d ever seen, but she couldn’t let herself think of the implications of that right then. Or ever... If she preferred.

“You want me to be the bad guy? Fine,” She smirked and kissed her hand. As she pulled her hand away from her mouth, a swarm of tiny demon Marinettes, or Demonettes if you would, manifested. They were all red, reminding Chloè and Kagami of cartoon evil consciences pitchfork and all. “ Now I’m the bad guy. I’m Little Devil and I’m going to sit on your shoulders until you sink from the weight of all of your guilt.”

Little Devil looked at Chloè for a minute. “Hmm. Not you. I don’t think you feel guilt, and even if you did, I don’t think you’d care about what others thought of you.” She turned to Kagami, who had reached for Chloè to drag her out of the bathroom. “You either. Neither of you seem to be much fun.” She stalked out of the bathroom, her Demonettes chattering as they followed her.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir should be here soon.”

Chloè thought through her next words carefully, not wanting to let Kagami know that Ladybug was 100% not showing up. “We need to get to one of them before Little Devil does.” She pushed out of the bathroom.

“Right, we need to let them know where her akumatized object is.”

Chloè nodded, and the two girls silently rushed outside to look for any hero.

Kagami, too focused on searching, didn’t notice Chloè pull out Marinette’s bag again.

The blonde needed to find Chat Noir like yesterday. She didn’t know what was worse, having to willingly work with Chat Noir only, or that Marinette Dupain-Cheng, of all people, was Ladybug.

The sunlight reflected off of Marinette’s earrings in the bag, right into Chloè’s face. Definitely Dupain-Cheng being Ladybug.

Maybe the worst part about all of this was less about Ladybug being Marinette, and more about Ladybug being akumatized.

[geewithluv]

ESOTERIC [two]

ESOTERIC: intended for or likely to be understood by only a small number of people with a specialized knowledge or interest.

The ins and outs of the prominent gang, Bangtan, can seem esoteric to the general population that is most affected by their actions.

Ｓｙｎｏｐｓｉｓ： ❝ Jimin is going to take over Bangtan after Hitman falls ill. Not feeling confident that Jimin is ready, Hitman pulls in the pacifistic daughter of a (now deceased) close associate. Kit hasn’t been around Bangtan for years, but now she’s forced to in order to help the remaining members of her family. ❞

Ｐａｉｒｉｎｇ：Jimin x Female OC (ft. the rest of BTS, Bang PD, members of Seventeen & BlackPink)

Ｇｅｎｒｅ：mafia!au, some fluff & some angst

Ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ： cursing, death from illness, mentions of death by gun violence, anxiety attack

Ｗｏｒｄ Ｃｏｕｎｔ：4k

ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ  [part one]

Kit woke up later than she would have preferred. As much as she tried to keep her sleep schedule consistent no matter when she was working, her body always seemed to betray her wishes for a stable sleep cycle. With a yawn, she stumbled into her kitchen, turning the TV on as she passed it. “I could’ve sworn I bought more tea.” Kit grumbled to herself as she glared at the empty glass jar that should contain packets of teabags. But not a single packet sat in that jar, not even the tea she had disliked but kept around for when she had seemingly forgotten her addiction-esque need for the beverage.

 “Late last night popular restaurant, Ossu Seiromushi, went up in flames and the local fire department is still trying to contain the situation. The cause is currently unknown. Please be sure to avoid 4th street during your morning commute as it will be blocked off while firefighters attempt to control the blaze.” 

 Kit hated the morning news anchors voice but this time she let herself drown in the soundwaves coming from her television. She rubbed any remaining sleep from her eyes to look at the video playing and the headline written in the bold black text at the bottom of the screen. “Holy shit.” She whispered as she realized she wasn’t dreaming. The restaurant is burning to the ground. Bangtan’s restaurant. Who knew what else was in there besides food and very expensive cutlery?

  “There’s at least a 5 grand in cash currently taking its final form as a pile of ashes on the damn floor! That’s not even mentioning all the other shit that’s gone because of this! I don’t know if I should hope everything in there is completely burned beyond recognition because the last thing we need is a federal investigation.” Jimin paced around the spacious office in the Bangtan estate. It’s not even 7:30 A.M. and they’re already being reminded that they’re sustained by crime. Taehyung holds the firm belief that it’s much more of a 10 A.M. reminder. 

“Who the hell set Ossu Seiromushi on fire?” Yoongi was hardly awake, trying not to completely slump over in the cushioned armchair.

 Namjoon speaks up. “No one knows if it was even set on fire or if it just--”

 “Don’t even finish that sentence.” Jimin is quick to cut him off. “We all know a fully up-to-code and functional restaurant doesn’t just start randomly burning to the ground at 2 A.M..” The shrill sound of his cell phone ringing makes Jimin groan as he presses the green button. “What is it?”

 “I know it’s 7 in the morning, but would it kill you to sound a little more pleasant?” Kit’s voice came through the other line as Jimin sits down in the leather chair behind the large custom wooden desk. “What the hell is going on at the restaurant?” Kit continued realizing Jimin wasn’t going to answer her remark.

 “You tell me. Seokjin, Jungkook, and Hoseok are there now waiting for an answer.” Jimin glides his hand across the sleek surface as Yoongi, Taehyung, and Namjoon watch him intently. “You’re only a few blocks over aren’t you? You didn’t hear or see anything?”

 “A few blocks is pretty far, Jimin.” Kit scoffed. “And I didn’t because I was sound asleep at 2 A.M.. Some of us have actual jobs that require us to have a schedule and--”

 “Save your 8 to 10 hours and circadian rhythm rant. I’m coming over.” Jimin stood up, making the three other men jump up as Jimin yanked open a desk drawer, grabbing a few things and shoving them in various pockets. 

 “You absolutely are not! What makes you think that you can just come over whenever you feel like it?” Kit huffed, Jimin smirked imagining her practically stomping around her apartment trying to put things away and ‘clean up’ for him despite her apartment being cleaner than any private residence he had ever been to.

 “The fact that you’re a few blocks away from where I need to be right now, the fact that I won’t take no for an answer and the overwhelming fact that you only pretend to be annoyed when I invite myself over.” Jimin grabbed his car keys as he left the office. “You guys stay here, wait for the others to give word. If anything happens, call me. ASAP.” Jimin pointed at the three men who were silently hoping he stayed a little longer so they could hear more of his conversation with Kit. How often did he go over to see her anyway? Nevertheless, the slam of the front door shutting, meant they weren’t going to get any more information.

 “Think they’re fucking?” Yoongi crossed his arms before slumping back in the armchair, he runs his fingers through bleach blonde strands of hair falling into his heavy eyes.

 “Kit? Having casual sex? Didn’t think you were a comedian.” Taehyung laughed.

 “Maybe it’s not so casual.” Namjoon suggested with a shrug, sitting across from Yoongi.

 “You think Jimin’s going to commit to one pussy?” Yoongi moved one of his rings around his finger, a pathetic attempt to stay distracted from sleep calling his name.

 “Maybe, he’s gotta mature if he’s going to run this thing.” Namjoon was correct but no one would admit that it would eventually become time for Jimin to really commit to leading, and that meant he needed to think more about everything he did. Every decision could be life or death for over a dozen people. 

 No one wanted to think about that.

 “You’re obviously sleep deprived.” Taehyung snickered.

  Kit and Jimin stand in her bedroom looking out the window. They were able to see smoke rising just off in the distance. 

 “How much do you think you guys lost?” She asked after a few minutes of standing in silence.

 “We. You’re in this thing too, even if you refuse to say it aloud.” He glanced over at her quickly before he cleared his throat. “In dollars, we’ve lost 10 grand at the very least. Probably much more. A new shipment just came in.” 

 “Is Jin okay? I know he really loved it. Front for deals or not. It was still a working restaurant.” Jimin nearly winced, she was too nice. He worried about it being a downfall. He also winced as he realized that he had not even thought to ask Jin how he felt.

 “He’ll get over it. He can’t afford to dwell. None of us can. We found out who did it, we make them pay, we move on.” He stated simply. Kit turned on her heel to face him. “Don’t look at me like that.” Jimin sighed.

 “Like what? Like I don’t want anyone to get hurt?” Her dark eyebrows furrowed.

 “Don’t look at me like you think you can stop me from doing what I have to do. Don’t look at me like you think I’m better than this.”

 “You are better than this, though. You don’t have to hurt anyone.”

 “How can you think the world is so simple, kitten?” Jimin turned to face her. “You’re so…” he trailed off, thinking for a moment as a hundred words to describe her flood his brain and threaten to pour out his mouth, “optimistic.”

 “Maybe you’re just a pessimist.” 

 A flicker of a smile as he looks into her eyes. “Maybe.” He let out a deep breath. “I don’t know how the hell you’re going to handle this shit. This is light work.”

 “I can handle a whole lot more than you’d think.” Kit looked at the ground, her hair falling into her face. There’s an implication that doesn’t get to be addressed as the ding of Jimin’s phone fills the otherwise silent room.

 “I need to get back, you coming?”

 “You know I don’t like--” Kit cuts herself off, something in my mind tells her to go against the usual. “Yeah. I’ll come.” She said. Jimin raised an eyebrow in surprise as she grabbed a pair of shoes.

  Kit finds the meetings to be more than boring. They’re worse than the ones at the hospital when the protocol changes. So, instead, she finds something else to do. Usually opting to clean up around the large home since the guys won’t do it themselves and had apparently had a recent bad experience with a cleaning crew. So they’ve settled for hardly cleaning. 

 She hummed softly to herself as she passed the master bedroom, well, almost passed it. She had become used to passing it and hearing the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the IV drips. 

 Nothing.

 Complete and utter silence as she walked by except for her own mindless humming. She felt a sinking feeling, the same one that made her stop working the ICU and Trauma floors at the hospital. The feeling of knowing that it’s over. She knows, she knows before she actually knows, before she opened the door and stood in the room and looked at the heart monitor that had been unplugged by the man who wanted to spend his final moments in silence. She couldn’t blame him, who would want to die having to hear their heart slow to a stop. 

 She knew he was dead before she saw all these things. She had known it was coming. Everyone knew it was coming. She didn’t even like the man all that much. She had blamed him for years for the way her life had played out. But she still found herself on the floor and a scream leaving her body because it’s the only sound she could make before her face became drenched in wet sadness. 

 “Kit! Kit!” Her name is being called throughout the house as 7 men fear for the girl’s safety only to realize that she might be the safest she’s ever been. On the ground gasping for air as she sobs. Namjoon is the first one in the room before he calls out to the others. He knows there’s nothing to be done so he moves to Kit, grabbing her by her waist and pulling her up and out of the room as 6 other people run in. 

 “He’s dead!” She shrieked, thrashing around in the tall man’s arms as he takes her into the front of the house, nearly tossing her onto the sofa. 

 Jungkook and Hoseok don’t even enter the room, opting to stay in the doorway. They stared at the bed where the man who had controlled their entire lives, now lay lifeless. 

 Jungkook had never known a life that didn’t consist of being reprimanded and ordered around by Hitman Bang. Even in his final days, Jungkook still felt like the kid who nearly fell over the first time he shot a gun, not prepared for the recoil. Hitman had laughed before telling him he’d get used to it, stabilizing him, and making him shoot again.

 Hoseok was well aware this time was coming, but it didn’t sink in until now that there wasn’t another option. And now it’s here, he’s too late to prepare for a reaction, so his body stills.

 Yoongi chewed on his inner cheek, standing near the foot of the bed. “Fuck.” He mutters to himself, he’s pretty sure this is the first time he’s ever seen someone dead that wasn’t murdered or otherwise injured. And somehow, it hurt so much more knowing his own body did this to him. His body decided to kill him. The ultimate betrayal.

 Taehyung leaves the room, pushing past Hoseok and Jungkook and walking until he gets to the living room. He pretended he wanted to help calm Kit down. But he really just couldn’t bear being in the room without vomiting.

 Jimin and Jin stand on the side of the bed. Jimin starts casually dumping pill bottles and wrappings from needles filled with morphine into a nearby trash can. Jin tries to talk to him but Jimin quickly cuts him off. “It’s over. He’s dead. Now you can either help me clean this shit up or you can go call the morgue. One or the other. I’m in charge now.”

 Jin decides to call the morgue, coming to the conclusion that Jimin needed that bit of time to himself. And honestly, Jin needed some distraction and a second to breathe fresh air.

  Jimin takes Kit back to her house before anyone even shows up to remove the body. He claims it’s just so Kit doesn’t have to be there and watch. But it’s for his sake too, because he spends the rest of the day lying in her bed, holding her. Only moving to answer a few texts. “You can go home, Jimin.” She had told him more than a couple of times, only getting a hum of ‘I’m fine’ or some excuse in response. She doesn’t want him to leave, she finds resting her head on his chest with his arm around her to be more than comfortable, but she wants to keep enforcing the fact that he’s there because he wants to be in her bed cuddling her, not because he feels that he needs to be. So they held each other in her bed for hours, the television nearly muted. Only interrupted by two phone calls telling Kit that her mother was approved for transfer to the better hospital in the city and that her brother had a bed reserved for him in a rehab facility in Arizona. 

 Bang Sihyuk was a lot of things, but he was a man of his word.

 “Go to sleep, kitten.” Jimin whispered just before 10 p.m., slowly rubbing her back. They had nearly finished a full season of Grey’s Anatomy.

 “You need to sleep too.” She told him.

 “I can handle myself.” Kit shifted her body, somehow moving even closer to him, resting a leg over his.

 “It’s okay to be sad, you know? It’s normal to be upset. It’s not good for your mind to pretend you’re okay when you’re not.” She said softly, tracing the ink of his tattoo with her finger. He doesn’t respond, not sure what to say. She wasn’t really expecting a response anyway. “Goodnight, Jimin.” She presses a kiss to his shoulder.

  “You don’t have to take me to work.” Kit said with a huff as she climbed into the passenger seat of Jimin’s car.

 “You keep mentioning how long the walk from the hospital to the garage is. No telling who might be out there waiting for a pretty little thing like you to come walking all alone.” He started the car and drives out of the complex’s parking lot.

 “How many times do I have to tell you not to leave so fast! The super already came to scold me, saying you’re gonna ruin the pavement.” Kit scolded. The pavement has been in dire need of repair but no one wanted to pay for it so the superintendent decided that suing would be the best way to collect money.

 “I didn’t get a nice car and sit with Yoongi for a month to customize it so I could drive the speed limit.”

 “You’re so annoying sometimes.” Kit rolled her eyes as Jimin laughed, resting a hand on her thigh. “I work a 12 today, are you gonna be able to get me?”

 “Course I am, kitten. What do ya take me for?”

 “A very busy man? Especially at 9 o’clock on a Friday night.”

 “If you’re implying what I think you are, you’re wrong.” He slides his hand further up her leg before wrapping it back around the steering wheel. She doesn’t push further but has a soft smile on her face for the rest of the ride.

  “Took you long enough, my god, thought some psycho patient got ahold of you.” Jimin turned the key as Kit starts buckling up.

 “Sorry,” she whined, “you would not believe the shift I had. All to end with some 15-year-old telling me they went into cardiac arrest and I’m too stupid to figure it out.”

 “Let me guess, she consulted doctor google?” He raised an eyebrow as he started driving.

 “Isn’t it always?” Kit sighed as she leaned back in the seat. “What have you been doing?”

 “Cleaning up the restaurant.” He stated, a curious hum leaves Kit’s body. “Well, hiring other people to do it and watching over them.”

 “Did the police finally say it was arson?”

 “Nope, they didn’t say anything. Made sure they didn’t.”

 “Well, don’t you think the police should investigate?” Kit turned her body as much as she could to face him.

 “Are you-- my god, you’re still so innocent.” Jimin kept his focus on the road, fearing what he’d do if he saw that innocent look in her brown eyes.

 “I just don’t get it. If you can pay them to say it wasn’t arson, just pay them not to arrest you all.”

 “It’s not that simple, babygirl.” Jimin sighed, thanking God that his phone happened to ding and end the conversation. “Shit, shit, shit.” He muttered reading the text.

 “What is it? Jimin!” Kit nearly screamed as Jimin made a very illegal U-turn.

 “These dumb fucks! I can’t leave them alone for an hour!” He slams his hand down on the edge of the wheel. He pulls into a dark street, stopping short of what seemed to be a warehouse.

 “Where are we?” She looked around, unable to even figure out what street they were on.

 “Just…” He huffed as he opened the door. “Just stay in the car.” He got out without another word, slamming the door shut, leaving Kit in a state somewhere between confusion and frustration and on the border of a panic attack as she sees him run around the corner of the building. She started hearing some yelling but she couldn’t make out what anyone was saying. She wanted to get out, be a little nosy, help in some way. But Jimin’s words rang in her head and the look on his face as he got the text, it was better to do as he said. This was confirmed when a loud pop hurt her ears. Then another, a couple of seconds later another pop. Her body stiffened and her eyes widened. She feared the worst. She wasn’t sure if Jimin was the cause of the gunshots or the recipient. She didn’t even know who else was there.

 “Get in the fucking car!” A voice yells, managing to be so loud the soundwaves penetrate the car and she hears it clearly. She sees Jimin, Jin, and Jungkook run towards the car, she lets out a breath when she realizes they’re all fine, but she soon is filled with worry again as the guys scramble into the car. Jimin doesn’t say anything as he speeds out.

 “What happened to you all?” Kit looks toward a panting Jin and Jungkook, realizing Jimin wasn’t going to say answer even if he could unlock his jaw for long enough to talk.

 “Those dumbasses from Seventeen.” Jin groans. “They had a couple girls with them, didn’t even know they had girls in their gang!”

“I cannot believe you two almost got killed trying to get laid!” Jimin yelled and Kit thought she might not ever be able to hear properly again.

 “Well not all of us can bang the only girl in our circle.” Jungkook attempted to defend himself. Kit stumbles over words for a moment before Jimin shoots him a glare in the rear-view mirror.

 “I’m going to assume you said that out of agony and aren’t in a state to know better.” He growled. “Say that shit again and see if I don’t feed you back to Seungcheol.” For once, Kit is thankful for Jimin’s temper.

  Kit is sat in the living room of the estate as the guys talk, knees up to her chest. Jimin is pacing, she wished he would pick another habit because it only made her more anxious.

 “Maybe they’ll change their name to Sixteen.” Hoseok tried to lighten the situation with a joke.

 “Fifteen.” Jin laughed.

 “Nah, I heard Mingyu made it out. Probably wishes he didn’t.” Hoseok nudged Namjoon next to him as he laughed. But Namjoon isn’t listening. His attention was focused solely on Kit, he watched her expression change as the guys talked.

 “Breathe, Kit.” Namjoon stood up, making his way toward the girl.

 “What’s wrong?” Jimin stopped in his tracks, looking between Namjoon and Kit. Kit doesn’t speak, her chest raises and lowers rapidly.

 “She’s having a panic attack.” Namjoon spoke calmly, knowing that if he worried it would only make her worse. He lowered to his knees in front of her. “Kit, Kit, look at me.” She grabbed hold on Namjoon’s hands as she looked into his eyes, anxiety clear on her face as her body shook with her breaths.

 “Why is she having a panic attack?” Jimin rubbed his hands over his face. And why didn’t I notice before? He thought to himself.

 “Is it because we talked about murdering the guys from Seventeen?” Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows.

 “Of course it’s because we mentioned how we killed someone, you idiot.” Taehyung snapped, making Kit sob loudly. Namjoon starts speaking softly to her.

 “Everyone needs to leave right now.” Namjoon’s smooth voice replaces the murmurs.

 “You don’t get to make the orders around here.” Jimin responded before glancing back over at Kit, her brown skin turning red as cries leave her mouth. Her hands moved to clench the fabric of her shirt. “Everyone out.” He nearly whispered. For a moment he’s not sure if anyone even heard him. But they soon start leaving. Namjoon gives a small smile to the leader as he follows behind them.

 “You’re gonna be okay, everyone panicked a little at first.” Namjoon sat down beside Kit when the door closed. She didn’t respond, so he continued. “My girlfriend freaked out the first time I ever mentioned it.” He chuckled a little remembering that day. “I forget sometimes that my life isn’t normal.”

 “You have a girlfriend?” Kit mumbled, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. Namjoon nodded, a big smile on his face that helped calm her.

 “Yeah, I do. That’s usually why I’m not here. I’d much rather spend my time reading in her living room than taking orders from Jimin.” He said, getting a soft giggle from Kit.

 “He’s a little bossy sometimes.” She said, looking up at him. Her body was still shaking a little, her breathing not quite steady but she seemed to be calming.

 “He is, he means well though. You don’t have to keep doing this, staying here and helping out. Jimin’s got it covered. Hitman just wasn’t sure he could.” Namjoon explained. He was sure it wasn’t her first panic attack steeming from the gang and it probably wouldn’t be her last.

 “I’m not sure he really does have it covered.” Kit sniffled, Namjoon raised his eyebrows, motioning her to explain. “The amount of times I’ve talked to him about his concerns over a situation means he’s not sure. I’ve calmed him down way too many times. He won’t even admit that he’s worried, he doesn’t want anyone to know. But I know.”

 “Well… then... I’m glad you’re helping.” Namjoon was a little shocked. He, for once, wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Maybe I could link you up with my girl. You guys could talk about how dumb we all are.” He placed a hand on her shoulder as Kit nodded giving him a smile before she wrapped her arms around him.

 “Thanks, Joonie.” He pulled her closer into him, the nickname warmed his heart in a way he couldn’t explain. He hadn’t heard it in a while, not since Kit left Bangtan years ago. It was a stark contrast from the harsh yell of ‘Namjoon’ he had become used to.

 “Anytime.” He whispered.

End of Part Two. I’m going to try and get this up once a week by the way! Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think?

[lovemesomerafael]

EL AMOR TODO LO PUEDE Chapter 19:  On The First Day...

Photo Source:  @rafaelbarbasvu            Heads up:  @Thomas1340

Chapters 1-10  Chapter 11  Chapter 12  Chapter 13  Chapter 14  Chapter 15 Chapter 16  Chapter 17  Chapter 18

Sonny Carisi stared at the vending machine in disbelief.  The bag of potato chips was poised impossibly on the edge of its seal, one corner on the shelf and the other on the corkscrew that was supposed to have knocked it down into the tray where he could take it out.  The expression on his face was so funny that Laura bit her tongue to keep from laughing.  

“You have got to be kidding me.  Look at that. That defies the laws of physics. Maybe I can rock it free.”  He moved his hands into different positions, trying to figure out how to grab the huge machine in a way that would allow him to rock it.  Realizing the futility of jarring the potato chips loose, he gave up.

That did it.  The laugh she was trying to suppress burst forth.

He gave her a look. “Yeah, thanks a lot.  That what passes for support in Chicago?”  

He turned and walked back into the squad room, disgusted.

Still laughing, Laura dug change from her pocket and bought a bag of the same chips.  As expected, the second bag knocked the first free, and both fell into the tray.  She went back into the squad room and plunked the chips down on Sonny’s desk without a word.

He gave her a brilliant smile and thanked her.  “We’ll make a New Yorker out of you yet,” he said.  

Good grief, she thought for the ten thousandth time since they’d met a few days before.  That is one tasty man.  She flicked a look at Amanda Rollins.

Laura really liked both Carisi and Rollins.  In fact, she liked the whole squad.  

 Her first week on the job, Rollins invited everyone over for dinner – which she noticed Carisi cooked – so they would have the opportunity to get to know one another.  

Laura politely declined a glass of wine and, figuring she might as well get it out from the beginning, explained that she was in recovery.  She knew instantly from Amanda’s reaction that she’d found one of her tribe.  The discovery led to the instant bond that addicts in recovery share.  Whereas she’d been somewhat intimidated by Amanda’s experience and beauty, Laura suddenly felt like Amanda had the potential to become a close friend.

“We’ll have to catch a meeting together,” Amanda said.

“That would be great. I’d love to know which ones to avoid.”

“Absolutely.  Why should you repeat my mistakes?”

“I made quite enough mistakes before I started A.A.” Laura grimaced.

Amanda clinked her glass with Laura’s.  “Ah, yes. I recognize that guilt.”

“I was raised Catholic,” Laura told her.  “I got guilt on lock.”

Laura saw the entire room turn to look at Carisi.

“Hey, I’m raised Catholic, too,” he announced.

“Peace be with you,” she said, smiling widely as she held her hand out.

“And with your spirit,” he responded with mock seriousness.  

As much as she loved her team in Chicago, she thought she might find herself liking this group just as well.  Amanda’s daughter Jessie sealed the deal by being unable to pronounce Laura’s name. Olivia’s son Noah instantly adopted Jessie’s pronunciation and Laura became “Aunt Lala”.  Somehow, that sweet nickname made her feel like she was being welcomed into a family.  This group seemed to genuinely like and care for one another and to be willing to let her in.  That night, for the first time since leaving Chicago, Laura didn’t feel homesick.  

She was also re-thinking her first impression of Lieutenant Benson.  Laura had learned quite a bit about Olivia Benson just during the short time she’d been at SVU.  She thought that, if she’d been through and seen what her Lieutenant had, she would probably be a crusader, too.

 The day after the dinner, Fin took the lead on questioning a suspect he and Parker had brought in after DNA implicated him in a rape.  Fin wanted Laura to observe and learn how SVU did things, rather than participate, so she stood against a wall of the box while he questioned the suspect. Lieutenant Benson stood watching from the other side of the one-way glass.  

“So what are we looking at?”  

She turned to see A.D.A. Barba had stepped up beside her and was looking into the interrogation room. “That’s the suspect in the Mazie Anderson case.  He’s been in there about an hour.  Still maintains his innocence.”

“What’s wrong with his face?”

“Fin and Parker had a little trouble arresting him.  Which reminds me, you haven’t met my new detective yet.  I’ll introduce you.  Suspect’s not going anywhere.”

Benson knocked on the window and Fin and Laura stepped out.  Rafael noticed the suspect kept his eyes warily on Parker as they left the room. Her shoulder-length hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and she wore a cashmere sweater over slacks.  It was pretty much the standard uniform for SVU’s female detectives, but Rafael noted that they weren’t the standard quality.  They looked expensive.  

“Laura Parker, let me introduce you to Assistant District Attorney Rafael Barba.  He prosecutes a lot of our cases.  You’ll be working together quite a bit.”

Laura and Rafael shook hands and made the usual polite introductory noises.  She was surprised, but tried not to show it.  Nobody had told her about that hair and those eyes.  And that voice.  So that’s A.D.A. Barba.  

Without spending an extra second on pleasantries, Barba turned to Fin.  “I understand you had some trouble with the arrest?”

Fin shrugged. “Dude’s innocent.  Haven’t you heard?”

“Detective, I don’t have to tell you, it always looks bad when a suspect is injured during an arrest.”

Fin, hands in the pockets of his black jeans, casually indicated Laura with an elbow.  “Wasn’t me. Talk to the Vanilla Killa over there.”

Barba turned his eyes on Laura.

She was calm, but earnest.  “It was legit.  He was mad to begin with that we came to where he works, and then when I went to arrest him, he swung on me.”

“You don’t have a mark on you.”

“I ducked.”

Rafael blinked.  Then he blinked again.

“That’s your story?  He tried to hit you, but you ducked?”

“I had time to order a latte before that punch would’ve landed.  The big ones are always slow.”

Rafael had absolutely no idea what to make of that. “Then why is he injured?”

“He went after me.  He wasn’t coming in voluntarily.”

Rafael looked back to Fin.

“For real,” Fin assured him.  “I was there. About ten witnesses saw it, too.  Girl’s got moves.”

Rafael looked at Laura.  “Huh.  Well, Detective, for future reference, it makes my job harder when you beat up the suspects.”

“Sorry,” Laura muttered vaguely.  

In that instant, she learned what the deer feels like when it gets hit with the headlights.  What did he just do?  What was that look?  Was that his pissed look?  Sweet merciful heaven, I want to piss that man off for the rest of my life.  I am actually wet because of the way he just looked at me.  Note to self:  Quit hanging out with Peter and get laid.

Fin and Parker returned to their interrogation.

Rafael, somewhat at a loss, turned to Olivia.  “Did I just have to tell a woman smaller than my abuelita not to beat up the suspects?” 

“The unit she comes from has… a different way of doing things.  Don’t worry.  It’s not going to be a problem.”

 Late that evening, Rafael strode into the squad room.  His day had started lousy and plummeted from there.  Now it was after eight o’clock and he was nowhere near done with his workday.  He wasn’t sure whether Benson could get him what he was there to ask for, but he had to try.  Without more, their case was dead in the water and a monster who killed a kid could go free.  He was in a mood.

He noticed halfway across the room that there were no lights on in Olivia’s office.  

“¡Joder!”[1] he hissed to himself.  Why had he expected anything different today?  

He thought he could hear a faint snicker.  Turning, he saw the new detective, just rising from her desk.  Her look was entirely serious, but he had the sense that she was biting back a smile.  

“Can I help you?” She asked.

“I’m looking for Lieutenant Benson.”

“She’s out in the field. Not expected back for some time, I’m afraid.  Maybe I can help you.”

“I doubt that.”  

He didn’t have time to wait, and he was absolutely in no mood to humor Liv’s new detective, even if she did have nice taste in clothes.  He turned on his heel and, without another word to her, strode angrily back the way he had come, muttering to himself.  “Un bebé policía. Perfecto. Es todo lo que necesito.”[2]

“Podría ser. Supongo que nunca lo sabrás.”[3]  

Rafael took a few more steps and muttered a few more words before it hit him.  He stopped and turned back to her.

“Excuse me?”

“Realmente no deberías murmurar sobre alguien hasta que sepas si ella habla español. Incluso si ella es una gringa.”[4]  She shrugged. “Just sayin’.”

Rafael sighed loud and long.   He took a few steps toward her.  

“I’m actually slightly less of a bastard than I appear right this minute.”

She gave him a friendly smile, letting him off the hook.  “That seems to be the general opinion around here.  I’ll ask Lieutenant Benson to call you as soon as I hear from her.”

“Thank you.”

For an awkward moment, they stood stiffly facing one another.  

“By the way,” he said, “Your accent is horrific and your syntax is… weird.”    

That should probably have hurt her feelings, and it might have, except that he gave her that look again.  That smug, disapproving look from under his eyebrows that hit her somewhere south of the waist.   Was he trying to smoulder?  

All she could think to do was laugh.  As soon as he turned the corner, she was going to crawl under her desk in embarrassment for having such a childish reaction.  But for now, she just had to brazen it out.

Rafael scowled as he walked out of the squad room.  What the hell had made him say something so gratuitously harsh?  No wonder she laughed at him.  Dios mio,[5] she has a great laugh.  

He could feel very uncomfortable internal alarms going off.  Alarms he hadn’t felt in a long time.  One thing he knew.  He and she were not going to be spending much time together.

 [1] Fuck!

[2] A baby cop.  Perfect.  That’s all I need.

[3] Could be.  Guess you’ll never know.

[4] You really shouldn’t mutter about someone until you know if she speaks Spanish.  Even if she is a gringa.

[5] My God

[silverinia]

2 or 10 (I can’t choose) Thank you! Love your writing :)

Hey anon, thank you so much! That’s really sweet. Here’s no. 10 (“staring at the other’s lips, trying not to kiss them, before giving in”), no. 2 will follow as soon as I get to it. Hope you like it, xxx

_____

The snowstorm that had taken over the streets of Chicago was just about to cross its dangerous turning point, when the heavy oak door to her townhouse fell closed behind them. The big and equally heavy suitcase and her hand baggage landed in the corner behind the door, a few snowflakes soon melting on the decadent Louis Vuitton emblems as he took the bouquet of flowers from her, so that she could take off her coat.

“Thank you, darling. And thanks for picking me up.”, she said, her voice a familiar mixture of easement and exhaustion that had become so usual to him these days that it did not even catch his attention. What did catch his attention was her revealed frame when she slipped out of her thick winter coat.

Her blazer was hanging more loosely around her frame than it usually did, the room that was left between her abdomen and the button beneath her chest almost made her look dwarfed.

It was obvious. She had lost weight again.

Will and Diane had been on a case in DC for the last three weeks of trial. It had been a tough one, already kept her up several nights at the office for preparation and strategy before they had even left for the actual trial. They won, but he could see the price that it had taken when he was looking at her, saw it in the way her collar bones stood out a little more prominently, compared to the last time he had seen her when he’d dropped her off at the airport or in the way in which dark shades were lying half-moon shaped beneath her eyes. He could see that she had done a remarkable job in trying to cover them up with makeup, but that had been early in the morning when now it was late at night.

She did this all the time. Burying herself in work until she would forgo taking breaks and end up forgetting to eat again in her sleep-deprived state of mind. And while it did bother him, he usually tried to look past it instead of holding it against her and just casually put a little more on her plate when he would serve  dinner at night, or dropped by every now and then around noon to take her out for lunch, attempting to silently do his part in calming his worries about her.

But this had been different. With the outlook on a three-week-long business trip, a trying trial and being apart, he had expected her body to experience some form of consequences because of it.

It was after dinner when they were sitting on the couch together, her feet tucked beneath her, his arm pulling her close, that he decided that he needed to try and do something. It couldn’t go on like this for much longer, her body visibly told him that she wouldn’t be able to take much more of it.

“Di?”, he asked softly, his eyes taking in the view of the burning fireplace across from them.

“Mhm?”, she hummed sleepily into the comfort of his warmth.

Kurt swallowed, knowing what he was about to get himself into, but also realizing that he did not really have a choice. “Let’s go away together.”

She shifted at that, pulling herself up in his arm until she could look at him with a questioning gaze in her tired, blue eyes. "Why?”

He snorted, eyeing her curiously. “Because I’d like to go away with you.”

“Uh, okay.”, she said hesitantly. “When?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Tomorrow. Over Christmas. Soon.”

One of her brows had arched up amusedly at his first suggestion. “We told your sister we would spend Christmas at her place.”, she reminded him and he shrugged again.

“We still have two weeks until that.”

She began to chuckle lightly, shaking her head which normally would have caused him to smile if he had not known that she was doing it over the absurdity that she saw in his offer. “Kurt, I can’t just go away for two weeks.”

“It doesn’t have to be two weeks.”

Huffing out a breath of amusement, she cast him a meaningful look. “You know, your timing isn’t exactly all that convenient.”

“Is it ever?”, he asked and pulled her a little closer again, his fingers brushing lovingly over her tangible hipbone. “Di… I just really wanna do this. Don’t overthink it, okay?”, he asked softly and got a deep sigh from her in return.

“Okay.” She shrugged. “The weekend before Christmas should work. My guess is you already have a destination in mind?”, she asked with little humour in her voice and caused his mood to a sudden shift.

He rolled his eyes. “Do you have to make it sound like you’re discussing the terms of your own death sentence?”, he asked dryly and caused a deep frown to wander across her brows, underlining the exhausted expression on her face.

“Excuse me?”

The gentle movement of his fingertips on her hip had come to a halt when he shook his head, scoffing and making the air around them feel like it was lacking the right amount of oxygen in the discomfort of his anger. Anger that stood in place for his concerns about her. Anger over the apparent way in which she had not been taking care of herself over the past few weeks and was now trying to keep him from doing it instead. The kind of anger that always led people to say things that they did not mean.

“No, it’s almost funny. I mean, I don’t remember you acting like this when you heard about your upcoming trip to DC with Will Gardner.”

Diane’s lips parted slowly while her eyes blinked a few times in her visible attempt to process his words and her following moment of bafflement once she had. Then she pressed her lips together tightly, shook her head and eyed him with a grim look on her face. “Okay. I’m going to bed now and I’ll pretend that you never said that and tomorrow, once you’ve gotten a grip again, you may apologize. Good night.”

With finality in her voice, she shrugged his arm off of her, pushed herself up and walked out of the room without looking back.

It took less than a minute for him to realize his mistake and go after her.

He found her in her walk-in closet, going through a shelve in search of a particular set of rosy silk pyjamas when her head snapped up at the sound of his low voice.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

A bitter smirk formed on her lips as she looked at him. “I should hope so. It’s bad enough that you said it anyway.”, she said and in the monotony of her voice, he could hear the way she was using it to conceal her hurt.

He took a few steps towards her and reached out to touch her thin upper arm. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Diane’s eyes fluttered closed as she released a deep exhale of exhaustion and folded her arms beneath her chest before she looked at him again, the piercing gaze in her eyes replaced by a softer one. “What’s the matter with you, Kurt?”, she asked gently, tilting her head aside as she studied his expression.

One of his brows was furrowed, his lips parting silently beneath his moustache in what she knew to be his search for the right words to say. His aversion to having to talk had always been on the verge between trying her patience and making her love for him grow even stronger, since, as much as she disliked it, the cliché of falling in love with another person’s weaknesses did apply to them in all their contrariness.

“I…” He shook his head and shot her an apologetic look. “Diane, you’ve lost weight.”, he whispered, catching her off-guard shooting the moment of thoughtful silence back into her quarter.

Her front teeth scraped over her bottom lip. “I know, but… It’s not much, I promise. It, it’s been stressful in DC and we needed to win this one and I… I just forgot about it. Sometimes.”, she added quickly and as he watched her fumbling around with her words, his concern grew even stronger. She was always so eloquent, such a good talker and the way she struggled now was nothing short of encouraging to witness.

He swallowed the knot in his throat and gave her a pleading, almost helpless look. “Go away with me, Diane. Just for a couple of days.”

Her lips formed an uncomfortable half smile. “Kurt, you know that I can’t just decide this. I’ll have to talk to Will, clear my schedule and I can’t promise anything. When a client calls in with an emergency, I have to be here to-”

“Diane.”, he interrupted her. “Please, just… Just let me take care of you for a few days. You clearly need this.” His voice was soft in his strong attempt of getting this out in the right way. And still, when her brow arched up and a look of displeasure grew in her gaze, he knew she did not get it right.

“I don’t need you to take care of me.”, she said defensively, her tone about an octave higher than usual.

“Diane, I didn’t mean-”, he began with little success before she interrupted him.

“I can take great care of myself on my own, thank you very much!”

“That’s not what I meant.”, he said a little louder, his annoyance slipping back into his mind. It was almost as though she didn’t want to understand him. “I know that you can, the point is that you’re just not doing it.”

Slowly, dangerously slowly, her brows wandered up as she exhaled a deep breath. With her other hand, she pushed his fingers away from her arm.

“Do you just…”, she began in a tone that was throaty with bitter amusement, an equally dishonest smile on her lips, thinning her eyes. “Forget sometimes that there was a time before you? I mean, the audacity…” She didn’t finish her sentence, shaking her head in quiet outrage over his implications instead.

Her hands moved to tightly grasp her hips, red, flawlessly manicured fingernails digging into the thick and expensive fabric of her black dress, ruffling the once perfectly fitted fabric on her slim waist. Her metallic blue blazer had long been discarded, now neatly hanging over the back of a chair in the living room and so her toned arms were displayed, the flush of fuming pink that had begun to spread on her pale skin a sharp replacement for the calming shade of glossy blue.

She always looked beautiful, not even his current anger towards her could ever outshine the surreality of her sight.

He shook his head, almost yelling when he spoke. “God, can’t you, just for once, let me care about you without making me the misogynist?”

“No!”, she yelled back at him. “Not when you’re acting like one, trying to rob my autonomy or whatever it is you’re doing right now.”

“You’re not seriously meaning to say that your fucking independence is more important than your health, are you?”

“Stop this. Right now!”, she hissed sharply, her voice an unforeseen turn from her loud yelling from prior.

Kurt scoffed, shaking his head, his lips pursing beneath his moustache. “I’m not done yet.”, he replied gruffly, the increasing pace in which her chest was rising and falling more rapidly only encouraging him to continue.

Her bright blue eyes narrowed at him as she stepped a little closer towards him, the icy blue looking cold like a winter day, sharp like the wind in the outside snowstorm, even more infuriated than he felt. “I would think twice about that. And you better be.”, she said lowly, her voice close to a whisper, daring him to go any further than he already had tonight. “Or else you can start packing your shit, leave and don’t come back.”

The rushing of his blood was audible in his ears, his heart pulsating furiously in his chest at the pace of it. He didn’t have it in him to overthink what he was about to say next. “Diane, you don’t understand-”, he began, only to be cut off by her laughter.

The tip of her tongue snuck out between her parted lips to slide over her upper front teeth, pulling his gaze involuntarily down to it and away from the cool look in her blue eyes, like a magnet, the movement tempting him to kiss her even when he tried to resist. And he could never.

“You’re so full of shit-”, she mumbled, before he silenced her by closing the gap between their lips, his tongue finding its way to hers at the first second of their touch, as he involuntarily gave in to his desire of feeling her.

A protesting moan escaped her into him, but soon turned into a sigh of pleasure when she allowed herself to give in to his touch and to let herself feel the love that he was seemingly always coveying with it.

His arms wrapped around her waist as her fingers slipped into his hair, holding each other like they had to fear that they would have to spend another three weeks apart in case they were to loosen their grip. They remained where they were when he pulled away a few moments later.

“I… I’m sorry. But I’m so worried.” He swallowed, closing his eyes again before he found the strength he needed to look at her somewhere within him. “I know you don’t need to do this to be well. But… I do.”

Her lips closed and she cast him a half smile as she eyed the look of worry in his green eyes. “Okay, let’s do it then. I’ll make it work.”, she promised softly before she pulled him closer again, her lips against his the affirmation he needed to finally experience the easement of her words.

[momo-de-avis]

From a very early age, I was interested in languages and books. I sort of had a natural inclination to it. My mom fed it, of course. At the age of six, I had this book I loved that was one of those kiddy books that taught you german. I always had it with me, and by that age I knew how to say all the colours, how to count to twenty-nine (cause I kept forgetting how to say thirty) and a lot of the animals. I wasn't super smart, I was just interested enough that I allowed myself to learn as much as I could while my mom fed it.

So of course, by the time I was 5 I knew how to read. Not just put the letters together to create a word, but what the words meant (kiddy books, naturally). No one really taught me, except those times when someone sat with me teaching me how to write my name. I was just super hungry for understanding things around me. Back in the 90s, the Cartoon Network we got in Portugal was american (and briefly english, and then american again) with no dubbings or subtitles. I learned eanglish super early by binge watching powerpuff girls, Dexter's laboratory, Edd, Ed & Eddy, cow and chicken and overall hanna barbera. I wasn't smarter than everyone else. I just wanted to learn. I was always an average student, still am. I just exceeded in this stuff I loved doing because I really loved learning about it.

My boyfriend has a niece and a nephew, and they're some of the smartest, most well educated kids I've had the chance of meeting. Their mother has taught tem to explore their identity, to nurture their creativity and to reward and experience kindness. She lets them explore all their interests and says it's important that they experiment while they can, which is one of the most validating things you can say to a child. On the other hand, my nephew is spoiled with little regard for others. He gets a shit ton of gifts every year, expensive gifts that he doesn't cherish. If he loses or breaks something, his parents merely scold him for five minutes and then a few weeks later buy him a new thing. He's five and has already had three tablets (his own, not like mom's or dad's that he can use) and four watches. Those four watches, one he lost, the other was a gift from someone outside of the nuclear family, the other was a smart watch for kids (that records and takes pictures) and the latest, gifted this Christmas, was Ferrari watch he was allowed to play with freely (going as far as sticking it in his food and all his parents did was yell at him to not do that).

But you see, my brother is an overachiever. He is a business student, so take that as you will. When the kid was four, he got him into kart racing. According to him (and from what I see) the kid loves it, but at five he already wants the kid to be a pro racer and get into competitions. He proudly announced he is already racing 7 year old karts despite being five (karts that go over 70 km/h). He fed the kid a million shit toys about maths and numbers. Ever since he was born, he has given him little toy cars, yes, even collectible items that those old men keep on a glass stand and polish every month.

And yesterday, he announced: he can read and write.

I told him: no, he can't.

Partly, I meant that he can't because he's five, and he's not supposed to even care about it. Of course, there are words here and there he gets, and he copies his own name and other people's name, but not much different from what I did at his age. But I also meant he doesn't know how to read and write, because I know my nephew and he doesn't. He has incredible photographic short term memory. He can memorize anything by just glancing at it once, which in itself is an incredible talent alone, but one his parents don't care about. I realized that was how he 'learned' how to read and write, because if I mix one letter of his name, he won't notice, and if I mix them all he can't say what's the word supposed to be. If you ask him to write each letter of the alphabet, without visual reference, he can't do it either. But if you show him rhe letters and ask which letters are those, he will say it.

Then again: he's fucking five. It doesn't matter, he should be learning that fully at school. It doesn't mean he shouldn't attempt to learn on his own, if he wants to - which is exactly what my mom did with me. She never taught me how to read, but let me teach myself how to understand. Sometimes, she would sit with me and tell me that those letters put together meant 'apple' and that sort of shit. Even that, if you ask me, is too much,but innocent enough if you deal with it accordingly. But the thing is this is not what my brother and my sister-in-law are doing. (Of course, there are kids who can develop that at an early age, but trust me, no one in my family was that type of kid.)

There's a story on why I insist on this, one I never really gave much relevance to. It was just something that happened to me that I could see as a red flag for this sort of shit, although until today I never really understood the implications of it.

You see, I didn't feel smart, like at all. I just really loved colours and letters, which was what I saw in these books. But when I was five and in kindergarten, my mom told my teacher I knew how to read. Mind you, this was kindergarden. All we did was draw shit, play princes and dragons and sit around while our teacher read us stories. We weren't even allowed to use forks and knives, we were all forced to eat with a spoon, even the kids who knew how to use a fork and a knife (because we were all five year olds eager to destroy shit around us and with a very blurred definition of danger). But after my mom said that to my teacher (who, by all accounts, was a nice lady) she did something I resented my whole life and I never really understood why.

She picked me up in front of every single kid in my class, sat me on her lap, opened a book and said "Ana knows how to read, so today she is going to be the one who reads for us"

And guess what, I didn't say a word.

The moment I told my therapist this, she frowned and said "that's horrible!" I agreed, but still didn't know why. She asked me what did I do, and I said I stood there quiet, refusing to read. I remember vividly the book, it was a book about Snow White. I remember so well not wanting to read that I just know what I did was out of spite. And I said I didn't really know why this was horrible for me, but it was. So my therapist put me through those mind-travelling moments that begin with "let's go back to that day" and made me realize what it was. For a five year old who didn't even feel like she was learning, just having fun, I felt exposed. And by being exposed as "the best at reading among a class of kids who can't even conceive why a person isn't green", I felt terrified of making mistakes.

My then teacher brushed it off as "she's shy", and for the next 10 years, everytime I froze in a situation like this, I was "just being shy". Being shy was the excuse for everything in the 90s, apparently (spoiler alert, I wasn't shy so much as I was I severely anxious and terrified of failure thanks to a domino-effect of stuff like this).

I told my therapist I insisted, as I actually had done on other occasions before, that my nephew didn't know how to read because this is what pretending your child is a genius leads to: a terrible pressure on being the best.

To make matters worst, I went to the same private school my brother did, and he was one of the best students of his year. Me, I was average. My brother excelled at math and sucked at literature, was average at languages. Me, I sucked at math, excelled at literature and languages - but that difference right there labelled me my whole life as "below her brother". My brother was exceptionally good, but me, I was unfortunately less. They tried coming up with lame excused, always disguised as "she needs to try harder": she doesn't pay attention in class, she doesn't try hard enough, she has potential but is lazy. Fast forward twenty years and it turns out it was not only a case of dyscaculia but a shit ton of psychological problems that at least once put me on the brink of anorexia, but I guess until you fucking die, it's just being lazy.

Now here's the kicker: my nephew will be attending the same private school my brother and I attended next year. You think they have forgotten us? They haven't (well, not my brother, anyway). My teachers and my brother's teachers are still teaching at that school.

So this kid is gonna grow up in a closed environment of rich people as the son of one of the greatest students of his class. And trust me, it isn't an isolated incident. I remember one of my friends being one of the best students of her year, and her sisters had a shit ton of pressure on them. The middle one in particular was even the troublemaker, simply because she wasn't as good. That's what happens when you grow up in a closed environment of a private school that functions like a private housing area of rich kids where several generations attend it, and I saw it happen more than once (if I am not living proof of it).

Anyone who meets my nephew immediately perceives he has problems. Several people have made that clear to me (without me even saying a word about it). Part of that is due to the fact that he is ridiculously spoiled (in a way neither me nor my brother were) and doesn't have a clear concept of basic stuff like personal limit (if he sees a cellphone, he will grab it and try to unlock it, despite not being his, and despite being told it's not his so he shouldn't do it), respect (he insults his mother, like calling her a liar) or the importance (or lack of) material things (he got a fucking Ferrari watch and was allowed to play with it like it was a toy, for Christ's sake). He constantly touches and uses things that aren't his and if you try to tell him he shouldn't without permission from the owner, he either throws a tantrum or try to steal it from you. If he does something he shouldn't, even if it's dangerous, like attempting to push the television off its stand (it's happened) or turn on the stove, no matter how severely you act, he will laugh and act as if it's nothing more than a challenge, and sometimes he will even look you in the eye and laugh as he does it again (the only thing that stops him is my brother spanking him, which goes without saying is terrible). He often grabs my sister-in-law's cellphone, or my mother's, and goes on youtube or online, or even text and send messages (more than once he has sent me pictures of himself through my mom's phone without her knowing) and neither of them will stop him, merely scold him briefly (they won't even take it away from him, they will just turn the app off and tell him he shouldn't use it and you can see the kid doesn't understand why, so he does it again). He keeps losing stuff but doesn't even feel remorse because they just buy him another one.

Now top it all with daddy and mommy always saying "he's really smart for his age, he is above average" when literally every single person that has met him says he has a learning delay caused by his parents (he's five and he still speaks like a two year old. Actually, I spoke fully perfect portuguese at two, and so did my mother).

So when my brother looks me in the eye and says, fully certain of himself, that he can read and write, when I say "no, he doesn't" I am trying to avoid the trauma of being put on a pedestal because you're expected to be that which your parents want you to be. I am trying to avoid the kid going through a bunch of situations like that day when I was five and I froze because the teacher put a fucking five year old on the spot without so much as asking me. Because this kid is growing up to be a rich, spoiled little monster with no empathy and no regard for nothing except himself, and the least I can try to do, since all else failed, is to try to warn my brother about the horrible consequences of doing to him what he did to me.

But of course, he doesn't give a shit. After all, his son is a genius.

Sorry for the long post, I'm on mobile and can't put a read more thing.

[delightfully-difficult-pirate]

Assassin’s Creed: Misthaven (6/18)

Summary: For hundreds of years, the Brotherhood of Assassins and the Templar Order have waged war.  For Princess Emma of Misthaven, that war has become personal.  After a mission gone wrong, the Templar Grandmaster, placed a curse on Emma’s son that is slowly killing him.  Emma will stop at nothing to save Henry, even if it means going rogue from the Brotherhood and consorting with pirates.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Sex, Adult Language.

AN: A special thank you to @preciouscucumber for being an ever patient and diligent beta.  She is always challenging me to “Show, not tell” actions and feelings. To @cocohook38 and @utopiozphere for the awesome artwork they have created.  I love the bits they made for this chapter, so check them out!  And to @icecubelotr44 for her encouragement every step of the way.  This chapter also wouldn’t exist without all the fantastic people in the AC fandom, and Ubisoft who has been so generous with their designs, who have figured out how a hidden blade could actually work.

AO3

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Art for Chapter 6 by @cocohook38

Art for Chapter 6 by @utopiozphere

             Emma woke with a head full of cotton, eyes that felt like they’d had sand rubbed in them, and a powerful thirst.  This was how she usually felt after she’d overindulged in alcohol, but she didn’t remember any drinking.  All she remembered was…

              All she remembered was stabbing Jenny and hiding her body in the alley behind some rubbish.  Tying her tunic in a way that hid most of the blood and requesting a room from the barkeep.  Filling the washbasin with stale water from the jug in the room and trying to wash Jenny’s blood from the fabric.

              Emma closed her eyes and fought back the tears forming in her eyes.  

              Jenny.

              She’d killed Jenny.

              Forcing herself to get up, Emma placed her feet on the floor and stood, feeling a little unsteady.  As she reached for her tunic, which was hanging over the end rail of the bed, more memories assaulted her.

             Hook, bursting through the door.

             Hook, looking up at her with a shocked look on his face after she’d pushed him back from his inspection of her body for injuries.  

             Hook, cradling her close and crooning in her ear as she cried out her sorrow.  

             Hook… and the soft touch of his lips against her skin after he’d put her to bed.  

              When Emma pulled her tunic over her head, she realized that it wasn’t the one she had been wearing before.  Not only that, it wasn’t even one of her shirts.  It fit, though, and wasn’t stained with blood, so she wore it anyways.  Hook, she surmised, must have bought it for her.

              Just as she was thinking of the implications of Hook buying her clothing, there was a light knock on the door to the room.

              “Swan, are you awake?” Hook called.  

              “I am, and yes, you may enter,” she told him.

              Emma noticed the sorry state of the door’s lock, damaged by Hook’s dramatic entrance the night before, and reminded herself to pay the barkeep for the damages.

              “My men and I took care of the Assassin’s body during the night.  We buried her in the graveyard that the locals use for visitors who die while here,” Hook said as he entered.

              “Thank you,” Emma said, truly touched by Hook’s consideration for the remains of her compatriot.  

              “Ah, you’re welcome,” he said, scratching behind his ear with his hook.

              Emma smiled, finding his nervous tic endearing. He watched her, obviously hesitant, as she approached him.  Slowly, Emma reached up and wove her fingers into his hair and pulled his face down to hers.

              The kiss began as little more than a press of lips, but Emma felt a shock move through her system as soon as the two of them touched.  Hook’s arms came around her, holding her close, and she relaxed into his embrace. She pressed her tongue against the seam of his lips and they opened for her.  Their tongues tangled, but the kiss remained relaxed, never gaining the passion that their first had on the deck of The Jolly Roger.  Even so, this kiss was so much more.  

---

              Back on The Jolly Roger, Emma spent the remainder of the day trying to distract herself from her grief by helping Tristan in the galley.  She probably was more of a nuisance truly, but Tristan was patient with her.  Together, they produced a rather good goat stew.  Hook hadn’t been kidding about Tristan ability to make delicious food when he had access to the ingredients to do so.  It was also a nice change to eat meat that hadn’t been salted first.  She would miss it when they returned to sea.

              The limited social contact did its job.  The next morning, Emma was feeling more composed and decided to seek out Hook.  She found him helping Hawkins fix the rail the loose cannon had destroyed during the storm.  Thankfully, this was the last major repair that needed to be done while in Silverbrooke and they would hopefully be on their way to Camelot soon.  

              Emma waiting off to the side and allowed herself to appreciate the sight of a shirtless Hook , muscles straining pleasantly with the weight of the wood he was holding in place.  The kiss the other night still played on her mind and she wondered at the constant pull she felt toward the arrogant pirate.  

               She had hoped that the one night they had spent together physically would have dampened her desire for him, but nearly a week later, it was only growing. Additionally, she was becoming emotionally attracted to him as well.  

             Emma felt herself blushing as she remembered how gently her onetime lover had handled her in her distraught state.  Many men she knew would immediately run from an emotional and crying woman.  Not Hook, though.  Instead, he’d held her close and soothed her until she’d passed out from exhaustion.

             When the rail was finally in place and Hook free from manual labor, Emma approached him, trying to keep her eyes of the trails of sweat making their way down his chest.  It was wrong, she decided, to be ogling Hook given what she was about to ask.

             “Will you show me where you buried Jenny?” Emma requested.

             Hook nodded, his eyes soft, “Of course.  Just give me a few minutes to get cleaned up.”

             Emma returned to her cabin and dressed in her full Assassin garb.  Her blue waistcoat was a little loose after a few weeks of eating a sailor’s diet.  No matter how skilled the cook, he could only make the normally bland food taste better, not be more nutritious.  

             The sight of her in her official outfit must have surprised Hook, because he furrowed his brows at her when she emerged from below deck.  

             “It is only proper, when paying respects to a fellow member of the Brotherhood,” Emma told Hook before he could ask.

             Hook had cleaned himself up a little as well.  His greatcoat looked as if it had been recently cleaned and he’d donned a black velvety looking vest over his shirt.  

             They walked in silence through the town and along the path that lead into the woods to the west.  The informal cemetery, no more than a disorganized scattering of graves, was located in a small glade.  Hook led her to the freshest burial.        

             Only a rough cross made of branches marked it, but there was a flat piece of wood inscribed with the name ‘Jenny’ propped against the base.  Hook’s work, she realized; she vaguely remembered screaming Jenny’s name at him when she’d broken down.

             Emma keeled down at the base of the grave, vaguely aware of Hook returning to the edge of the clearing to give her some space.              

             “Jenny, there are no words in any language that would allow me to express how sorry I am,” Emma began, throat closing up as she lost the hold she’d had on her grief.  “No excuse I could give to justify my taking of your life.  We were sisters, comrades-in-arms, and I betrayed you.”

             Emma didn’t bother fighting back her tears; she allowed them to flow freely down her face.  “I do not ask for your forgiveness.  I do not deserve it.”

             Reaching into her pocket, Emma removed a pure white feather.  Normally, she would use it to collect the blood of her official assassinations, to prove she had done the job assigned to her. Instead, she made a shallow cut across her palm and used it collect her own blood.  She laid the now red feather at the base of Jenny’s grave.  

             “I can only hope that you show me mercy when we meet again in the world after this one, even though I was unable to grant you any.”

---

             Hook immediately took note of the cut on her palm, but remained silent as he handed her his black handkerchief to stem the bleeding.  This time, she tied the knot herself, but the sudden memory of him tying it with his mouth sent a shiver down her spine.

              “There is a hot spring not far from here, just along the river.  I would like to spend some time there,” Emma informed Hook, heading toward the shore so she could follow it further into the woods like the innkeeper’s wife had told her to do.

              “Is that wise, Swan?” Hook asked as he followed her. “Far be it from me to deny you the chance to refresh yourself, but what if your associate wasn’t working alone?  There could be another Assassin in the area.”

              Emma stopped and turned, releasing the hidden blades on her forearms.  “I am not a defenseless maiden, Hook.”

              “I’m not saying you are, Swan,” Hook raised his hand and hook in front of him, “but there is no need to put yourself in danger’s path if it is unnecessary.”

              Emma narrowed her eyes, unhappy with Hook’s assessment but recognizing the truth in his words.        Still, she was unwilling to give up the chance to soak away her stress.

              “Come with me, then.  You can stand guard, if you believe me to be in any danger.”

              Hook blinked at her, clearly taken aback by her invitation.  

              Not waiting for his answer, Emma continued on her way upstream; and after a minute, Hook joined her.  They walked in silence, but there was a tension underneath it that Emma hadn’t felt before.  She’d expected her invitation to involve at least one flirtatious comment from the pirate, but instead he’d was stoic as they searched for the hot spring.  

              After a mile or so, they came upon an area where the river widened.  Off to the side, there was a part blocked off by a ring of stones, creating a small pond where the warm waters of the spring were separated from the cold of the river.

              Hook did a quick walk around the shoreline then placed himself on a large rock facing downstream, hand resting on the hilt of his sword.  Emma chuckled to herself as she began to remove her layers of clothing.  She folded her attire carefully and placed it and her gear far enough away from the spring to remain dry, but close enough she could reach them should she need to arm herself quickly.

              Emma hissed lightly as she stepped into the hot spring.  Taking her time to adjust to the heat of the water, Emma slowly crept further into the pond. The water only came to her stomach at its deepest point, so she kneeled down in order to fully submerge her upper half. She moaned when the hot water came up and over her breasts.

              From the corner of her eye, Emma saw Hook shift on his stone seat and she realized that she must have been louder than she had thought or intended to be.  Regardless, she couldn’t help vocalizing her pleasure as she shifted herself to the edge of the pond and allowed warmth of the rocks to sooth the tension in the muscles of her shoulders.

              “If you are doing that a purpose, lass, I beg that you stop.  Or I may need to find private place of my own,” Hook called to her, his legs shifting again.

              “Why go off alone when you could just as easily join me?”

              Emma’s words hung in the air between them.

              After a minute, Hook replied, “That would be unwise, love, but I thank you for the invitation.”

              Taken slightly aback, Emma rose from the pond and carefully walked across the shore until she was behind Hook.  His breath hitched when she laid a hand on his shoulders. The muscles were tense, nearly as hard as the stone he sat on.

              “Why, Captain, would that be unwise?  We have already spent one night together.  Why deny yourself another day?” She asked, pulling lightly at his shoulder to get him to turn around.

              Hook denied her physical request and continued to stare resolutely ahead of him as he spoke.

              “Because your offer is not made with pure intentions, lass.”

              “You’re right.  I have the most decidedly impure of intentions,” Emma whispered in his ear, before biting lightly at the lobe.

              Her actions caused Hook to jump from his seat, muttering a few choice words about the powers of a siren.  He turned to face her, but quickly closed his eyes when he caught sight of her nudity.

              “Really?” She asked, incredulous.

              “Play fair, love, please.” Hook removed his greatcoat and held it out to her on his hook.

              Rolling her eyes as his dramatics, Emma grabbed the coat and quickly donned it.  “Better?” She asked.

              Opening only one eye at first, Hook released a sigh of relief when he saw that she was no longer naked.  Though by the ways his eyes slowly assessed her, she wasn’t sure the coat was doing much to calm his obvious desire.

              “Love, I would give up the treasure of Atlantis its self to spend another night of passion with you,” Hook said, holding up his hand when she made to approach him.  “But not now, not today.  You are grieving, Swan, and it would not be in good form for me to take advantage.”

              Emma’s face must have darkened a little at his words, for Hook quickly tried to clarify himself.

              “Not that I could take advantage of you, for you are a woman who can take care of herself.  But, lass,” Hook paused, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck, “People like us, who have experience with death and the taking of life, that sometimes, in the aftermath, we seek to reaffirm our own living status by engaging in…. lively activities.”

              Emma watched as a pink tinge appeared on Hook’s cheeks and for a moment she wondered how a man who was so obviously open with his attractions could be so shy when speaking about sex.

              “I would not be a gentleman if I allowed myself enjoy what you are offering.  It would not be fair, to either of us.” Hook gave her a small smile, obviously hoping his words had come across more clearly this time.

              Emma took a step forward, and when Hook made no move to stop her, continued until she stood directly in front of him. Placing her left hand on his cheek, she lightly rubbed the small scar that adorned it.

              “Just who are you, Hook?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

              “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he replied, his smile now more full and genuine.

              “Maybe I would.”

--

              The afternoon following their trip to the hot spring, Hawkins declared that the Jolly Roger would be ready to return to sea the next day.  Killian was beyond pleased, anxious to get underway.  He knew that the ship wouldn’t have been repaired this quickly without the hard work of his crew, so that evening, Killian gave them permission to spend the night ashore.  

               As captain, Killian remained on board, checking the Jolly Roger from stem to stern to ensure that everything was in order. Hawkins and his sons had done a good job repairing the damage his ship had taken.  Starkey had made sure that the ship had been restocked with casks of freshwater, fruits, and he even stumbled upon a group of chickens roosting in a corner of the hold.  

              He expected to be alone on the ship, with everyone one taking their last chance to enjoy the pleasures the town had to offer. He was proven wrong when he came upon Swan laid out along the bowsprit of the ship, staring at the sky.  

              Not sure if she would welcome his intrusion on her solitude, Killian stayed back.  He busied himself by climbing the rigging and confirming the conditions of each sail for himself.  Thankfully, he found nothing amiss.  Everything was in perfect order for the remainder of their trip to Camelot.

              Killian returned to deck to find Swan watching him.

              “My apologies if I disturbed your stargazing, love,” he said.

              Swan shrugged. “I’ve never been good at finding the constellations anyways.”

              “Well allow me to rectify that, then.” Killian held out his hand to her.  When Swan took it, he guided her to the quarter deck, where they would have a better view of the sky.

              Killian stepped behind her, pressing her back to his front.  Swan tensed for just a moment, but then relaxed against him.

              “The first star you want to find is Polaris. Especially when out at sea,” Killian wrapped his hand around Swan’s wrist and pointed her hand toward the sailor’s guiding star at the end of the Ursa Minor constellation.  

              “Once you’ve found Polaris, you’ve found north. Now, what constellation do you want to find?” Killian dropped his voice and whispered in Swan’s ear.

              Her voice was unsteady when she answered him, “Draco, the dragon.”

              “It’s easiest to find the great dragon’s tail,” Killian said as he turned the two of them to face east.  He guided Swan’s hand along Ursa Minor, to the cup of the constellation.  

              “It wraps around Ursa Minor, and then all you have to do is follow it to the beast’s head.”

              Swan tilted her head to follow his movement of her arm and then allowed it to rest on his shoulder.  He pressed his cheek against the top of it, enjoying the sweet smell of her hair.

              “Tell me, Captain, what is your favorite constellation?” Swan whispered.

              Wrapping his other arm around her waist, Kilian turned them again so they were facing west.  He pointed her arm at Deneb, the top most star in the constellation of Cygnus.

              “I have always been partial to swans.”

--

              Emma felt her body being turned again by Hook and found herself staring at the constellation she had taken her pseudonym from.

              “I have always been partial to swans,” he crooned in her ear and she couldn’t help the shiver that traveled down her spine in response.

              “I would have guessed Pegasus.  A noble steed to carry you wherever you wished,” Emma said, tapping her foot against the ship below them.

              Hook chuckled and Emma could feel the reverberations against her back.

              “Aye, Pegasus would serve me well.  However, there is nothing quite like the transformative beauty of a swan.”

              Emma turned and stared deep into his eyes as he spoke, finding no hint of a lie in his words.  When Hook’s head leaned in and his eyes began to close, she didn’t pullback.  Their lips met in a gentle kiss.

              The kiss escalated quickly and Hook’s arm around her waist pulled her tight against him.  Emma could feel his growing arousal through his trousers, pressing against her stomach.  As much as it pained her to do so, Emma broke the kiss before they could go any further. Instead, she laid her head on Hook’s chest and listened to his rapidly beating heart.

              Emma remained wrapped in Hook’s arms until both their heart rates returned to normal.  When she finally pulled back, she told him, “It would not be wise for us to… dally this evening.”  As much as she desired another night with Hook, she was currently at her most fertile and did not want to risk another unintended pregnancy.  She had been only remembered where she was in her cycle upon returning to the ship after her failed seduction of Hook at the hot spring and had been doubly thankful for his gentlemanly nature in turning her down.  

              Hook tilted his head to the side. “I’m not sure anything the two of us do is wise, love.”

              Emma laughed, knowing he was right.  “Yes, but tonight would be extra hazardous.  There is a no moon in the sky.” Knowing Hook was an educated man, she hoped that somewhere in his learning he had read about the moon’s symbolism in relation to women.  

              Hook looked skyward, obviously to confirm her statement that there was indeed no moon in the sky.  

              “There is, indeed, no moon.  I take it that you are currently in the middle of your womanly cycle, then?” Hook asked.

              Emma felt her cheeks heat at his bluntness and cursed herself for her embarrassment.  She was a woman grown, a mother, she reprimanded herself.  She would be able to speak candidly with a lover about her cycle.  

              “I am,” she said.

Although there were other ways for the two of them to bring each other pleasure without having sex, Emma didn’t fully trust herself to not through caution to the wind in the heat of the moment.  It was better to avoid the temptation all together, as hard as it was.

              “Then allow me the pleasure of seeing you to your quarters, Swan, where I shall bid you a good night.” Ever the gentlemen, Hook held out his right arm for her to take.

              Rolling her eyes at his formality, Emma nonetheless looped her arm through his and allowed herself to be escorted below deck and to the door of her cabin.  

              “Good night, m’lady.” Hook brought her hand up to his mouth and placed a delicate kiss upon the knuckles.

              “Good night, Captain.”

--

             Alone in her cabin, Emma flopped onto her small bed.  Burying her face into the pillow, she let out a cry of frustration and cursed herself for a fool.  She shouldn’t have kissed Hook and wound them both up.  She had wanted nothing more than to strip Hook from his layers of leather and take him there on the deck of his ship.  Instead, she was alone in her cabin, exceedingly aroused, with only herself for company.  

              Knowing she wouldn’t get any sleep keyed up as she was, Emma stripped out of her clothing and laid back along her bed. The cool air of her cabin caused her nipples to pebble.  Emma reached a hand up and rolled one between her fingers, while the other hand traveled downwards.  Fingertips just grazing over her skin, causing the muscles of her abdomen to jump. She brushed them through the blonde curls above her womanhood before slipping them into her cleft.  Her body flooded with heat and she couldn’t hold back her moan of pleasure.  

              Emma wondered if Hook had returned to his cabin to take care of himself just as she was doing.  She imagined him sitting in the chair in his cabin, legs spread wide and his cock in his hand.  She slowly massaged her clit, matching the speed her imaginary captain was using on himself.  The captain would take his time to draw out his pleasure.  Up and down his hand moved along his cock, sometimes fisting over the head.

             Her hand moved further down and she pushed two fingers against her entrance. She pumped them inside, wishing it was Hook’s cock instead.  She pressed her thumb against her clit, which caused her muscles to ripple along her fingers.

             The imaginary Captain’s hand had picked up speed and his head was thrown back in pleasure.  His cock was flushed, ready for release, just as she was.  Emma began pumping harder with the hand between her legs and her thumb circling her clit, while the other hand continued to pinch and pull on her nipples.  

             In her mind, the captain reached completion and his cock shot his seed upwards, where is splattered onto his stomach.  

             The image brought her to the edge, so she curled her fingers within, aiming for her favorite spot. Finding it, she moaned long and loud as she crested. Her breath came in gasps as she rode the wave of her orgasm, gently teasing her clit to extend the ride.

              Sated, Emma was too relaxed to bother to dress in her sleeping gown.  She simply pulled a blanket over her nude form and fell asleep.

             The Jolly Roger left Silverbrooke at dawn six days after arriving.  Killian kept the ship moving due south at the fastest speed she could manage to make up time to offset the delay caused by the need for repairs.  The gods were apparently on his side; they clear skies and good winds for the entire journey so they managed the normally weeklong journey in only five days.  

              Swan had taken the news that the capital city of the kingdom of Camelot, also named Camelot, was not located on the coast, as she had been led to believe with aplomb.  Loath as he as to leave The  Jolly Roger, the river that connected the port town of Hedge’s Run to Camelot was too shallow for her to manage, so Killian booked passage aboard one of the river barges for himself, Swan, and fifteen members of his crew. He had intended to leave Starkey in charge of The Jolly Roger while he was away, but his stalwart quartermaster had insisted on coming along to Camelot, so Theo was left as acting Captain instead.

              The journey upriver would take half-a-day and once they were underway, Killian found himself quite enjoying the trip. Camelot was a beautiful country and the scenery along the river was a nice change from the endless miles of ocean.

              Swan had staked out a spot among the goods being transported, away from everyone else, and had so far spent the entire journey doing maintenance on an impressive collection of weapons.

             Seeing her wrist blades removed, Killian approached her and asked, “Lass, could I get a look at your wrist blades?” He’d always been intrigued by the Assassin’s trademark weapon but had never had a chance to handle any himself.

               Swan nodded, handing one of them over. “Have a care not to stab yourself,” she told him.

              Killian took a seat on a bundle of wool and examined the weapon.   The blade was secure in a metal sheath and the assembly was fitted into the underside of a leather vambrace.  Swan’s vambraces were simply decorated.  A metal rendering of the Brotherhood’s symbol was inlaid in the leather.  In its center was a small five-petal flower, which seemed familiar, but Killian was unable to place.  The same flower was etched into the leather in various other places as well.

              Feeling along the sheath of the blades, Killian searched for the trigger that would allow the release of the blades.  Unable to find anything, he frowned.

              Hearing laughter from beside him, Killian turned to face Swan, and found her looking at him with an amused expression on her face.

              “Here,” she said, taking one of the weapons from him and holding it up to the sun so he could see inside.  “There is a small pressure switch on the inside of the brace. We press it by flexing a muscle in our arms in a specific way.”

              Swan grabbed his hand and guided his finger along the inside of the brace, until he felt a small bump in the leather. Killian pressed down and with a click, the blade ejected.

              “Older models were triggered by a ring worn on the pinky finger, but they also required the removal of the wearer’s ring finger,” Swan told him.

              “That’s some serious dedication,” Killian replied.

              Swan hummed, “It also made Assassins easy to identify. Thankfully, the design was improved upon around 200 years ago.  No more dismemberment needed.”        

              “It would be a travesty to destroy such lovely hands as yours,” Killian said with a wink.

              Swan rolled her eyes at his flirtatious remark and went back to sharpening a dagger with a whetstone.

              Killian continued to his study of the now revealed blade.  It was longer than he had imagined.  He pressed on the tip of it with his hook and watched in wonder as the top part of the blade receded into a portion below it.  The blade was three separate pieces, he realized, and each piece tucked into the interior of other.  Much like those nesting dolls he’d once seen in a market in Arendelle, imported from some kingdom far across the sea.    

              “Would you like to try it out?” The question caught Killian off guard and he looked at Swan in shock.

              “Here,” She said, reaching for his arm and rolling up the sleeve of his shirt.  He’d forgone his coat in deference to the heat of the day.

              Killian’s heart skipped a beat as Swan’s fingers skimmed across the underside of his wrist as she slipped the vambrace onto his forearm.

              “This won’t be the best fit, since these were made especially for me.  But it will give you a general idea about how they feel.” Swan pulled on one of the straps, securing the weapon to his arm.

              “Now, flex your wrist back.  That should release the blade.  Just make sure your fingers are out of the way or you may lose one.”

              Killian laughed and followed her instructions. With a flick of his wrist, the blade ejected.  It extended only an inch or so past the tip of his middle finger, but Killian remembered it looking longer on Swan’s smaller hands.

              “These are amazing,” Killian muttered.  

              Swan snorted. “They are pain to learn to use properly.  I was lucky I had magic, so I could heal the numerous cuts I gave myself.”

              “I stabbed myself more times than I can count when I first started wearing my hook,” Killian shared.  He held his wrist out to Swan, silently asking her to undo the buckles.  

              She did and then gently pulled the leather from his arm.  As she did so, her nails scratched along his arm, and that caused a shiver to travel down his body.

“Now, tell me lass, how do you plan to subdue this Rumpelstiltskin and keep him from destroying my ship on the way back to Misthaven?” Killian asked, taking a seat on the deck of the barge and stretching out next to Swan.

              If she was thrown off by his sudden change of topic, she didn’t show it.  She simply extended her right leg and gently kicked a leather satchel she had brought on board with her.  

              “I have a set of manacles that will render Rumpelstiltskin powerless.  As long as he wears them, he should pose no threat to your ship, or any of its crew.”

              “May I?” Killian asked, gesturing toward the satchel.

              Swan hesitated at first, but nodded her permission after a few moments of apparent consideration.  

              Killian pulled the satchel towards him and heard the familiar ‘clink’ of metal chains.  After removing them from the bag and the layers of cloth they were wrapped in, he studied the workmanship.  Though he was no blacksmith, he could tell they were well made.  There were small runes carved on each link and cuff, which he assumed gave them their ability to nullify a sorcerer’s magic.

              Out of the corner of his eye, Killian noticed Swan shift.  She looked uncomfortable and was scratching at the inside of her wrist.

              “Do they bother you?  Lass, you should have said!” Killian exclaimed, hastily re-wrapping and stowing the manacles back into the satchel.

              Swan shook her head, but Killian could see that she was obviously more comfortable with the chains packed away.

              “Do they work on all magic users?” Killian asked.

              “They are only supposed to work on those who practice dark magic,” Swan replied curtly.

              Killian nodded, letting the topic drop.  They lapsed into a comfortable silence as Swan continued cleaning her weapons.

              “Have you ever been to Camelot?” she asked after sometime.

              “Only once, just after I left the Templars,” Killian admitted.  A high-ranking member of the Order had been residing in the capital city when Killian had been enacting his revenge for the death of Liam.  “It’s a nice city, as cities go.  Right on the edge of a lake.  Smells overwhelmingly like fish when the weather gets too hot though.”

              Swan nodded, a contemplative look on her face. “And the castle?”  

              “Built on a peninsula with only a few connections to the city, from what I saw.”

              “We will need to scout the area when we arrive. There is a local Brotherhood base in the city, but I won’t be able to press for certain details without giving away too much information,” Swan admitted, fiddling with a throwing knife.

              Killian grinned. “I may have the perfect solution.”

Chapter 7