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neewtmas · 1 year

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Jealous // Part I

A/N: finally managed to write a part II to this

pairing: george karim x fem!reader

wordcount: 1.4k

masterlist

The only source of light that illuminates the kitchen are a couple of almost burned down candles on the table, their flickering light sending shadows dancing over the tablecloth and the kitchen cabinets. I stare at the indents my nail makes as I drag it over the cloth, again and again, in a never-ending circle. The quiet clanking of metal against porcelain tells me that George is still stirring his tea. It must be cold by now.

“When do you think they’ll be back?” I ask, not taking my eyes off the table. Silence. George has stopped stirring, and I know he’s rubbing his eyes behind his glasses like he does every time he’s tired and stressed. “I don’t know.”

I let my eyes wander over to the old clock that hangs on the wall right next to the door that leads into the hallway. The larger, slightly crooked hand has almost reached the top, telling me it’s nearing 4 am. Usually Lockwood and Lucy aren’t out that late, especially not when the case they had set out to solve was such a minor one. Or seemed like it on paper. George and I had been back since shortly after 1 am, the case we had to solve being simple in every sense of the word.

Since then, we had slowly run out of things to talk about, and I had given up on racking my brain for further conversation topics. That’s not usual at all for us, just a few weeks ago we would have never sat in silence for that long. Except when reading and researching in the library maybe. We had been what you could call a team from the day I started my employment at Lockwood & Co, mostly brought together by the fact that half the time, Lockwood and Lucy just had a dynamic that made one feel like they were intruding on something.

It took some time for George to warm up to me, but I thought he considered me his friend by now. Yet here we were, sitting in silence in the dimly lit kitchen, avoiding looking at each other. I wish I knew what had cause this shift between us, but I don’t have any time to ruminate over it. The sound of the front door opening and falling shut and boots on the creaky floorboards make me perk up. George’s eyes briefly meet mine before the kitchen door flies open and Lockwood steps into the room, followed closely by Lucy. They seem exhausted, but uninjured.

Lockwood plops down on a chair, still in his coat, and lets out a big sigh. “Tea”, is all he says, while Lucy scoots next to me on the bench. George gets up without a word, pours two cups from the kettle on the stove and comes back to the table to put them down in front of Lockwood and Lucy, much more forceful than needed. The cup leaves a stain on the cloth as Lockwood raises it to his lips to take a sip, and immediately spits it out again. “Now that’s actually disgusting”, he grimaces, putting down the cup. “Yes, because it’s been on the stove for three hours”, George snaps. “Where the hell have you been?!”. Lockwood raises his arms in defence, evidently surprised by George’s intense reaction. “Calm down, everything’s fine. We had an issue with the cab and couldn’t find a new one, so it took a little longer than usual.” He gives George one of his charming smiles that is sure to diffuse any tense situation, but George seems immune to it today. “Well thanks to you I had to sit here for three hours, wasting my time!” He rises from his seat, clearly agitated. “Don’t expect me to be up early tomorrow.” With that he leaves the room, not sparing any of us another glance. No one says a word, until somewhere in the house, a door shuts loudly. “Phew, someone’s in a bad mood”, Lockwood chuckles as he gets up to prepare a new kettle. “What’s gotten into him? Did your case go wrong?”

I shrug, feeling somewhat deflated. I wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but the fact that George just spent three hours with me only to leave and call it a waste of time stings pretty badly. “I don’t know”, I say weakly, “He hasn’t really talked to me at all today.” Lucy looks at me quizzically. “All week, actually”, I add, and cringe at how pathetically small my voice sounds. We stay silent for a while, until the tea was ready. “Do you know of anything that might have upset him?”, Lucy asks, smiling at Lockwood who hands her the first cup of tea he poured. He sets one down in front of me as well, before he resumes his place on the chair, his own steaming cup in hand.

I search my brain, for something, anything, but I come up empty. “I have no idea. Everything was fine a couple of days ago.” I stare at the cup in front of me. Lucy goes to drop in a sugar cube, stirs it a couple of times and hands it to me. “Since when exactly is he acting like that?”, she asks, and I take a sip. The hot tea burns my lips and tongue and my throat on the way down and distracts me as I try to recall the events of last week.

“I guess since the last time we were at the library, last Thursday”, I say. “What happened there?” Lucy asks again, and I continue. “That’s the thing, nothing. We were just at our usual table, doing our usual stuff, nothing special. Kipps and his crew stopped by for a few minutes and were annoying, but that’s really the most exciting thing that happened.” Lucy sits up straighter, clearly interested now. “Did Kipps do anything?”

“No. He just introduced the newest member of his team to us, but I don’t recall his name. Joe? Or Jonas?” Lockwood huffs, annoyed just like every time we talk about Kipps and his team. “Johnathan. I’ve seen him once, seems about as incompetent as the rest of them.”

I nod. “Right. Well, when I went to bring back a book, I ran into him, and he asked me out on a coffee date.” Lucy gasps, and Lockwood leans forward, waiting for me to continue. “Did you say yes?”, Lucy asks urgently, and I can’t tell what she wants the answer to be. I shake my head incredulously. “Obviously not. Well anyways, a while later we pack up our stuff, and on the way out, we walk past their table. And he yells after me ‘don’t forget our date, sweetheart!’. When we were outside, George asked me what that was about, and I just told him he asked me out earlier.”

Lucy covers her mouth with her hand and stares at me, wide-eyed. “Did you also tell him you said no?!”

I shake my head. “I kinda thought that was implied”, I say, twiddling with my fingers. Lockwood laughs, and I just look at him in confusion. “Nothing implied that”, he says, raising his eyebrows. “Poor Georgie thinks your going on a date, and that’s why his mood is so sour. He’s jealous!”

My face heats up, and I can just tell I’m scarlet right now. “Why would he be jealous?”, I mumble, embarrassed. “Well, that’s easy to answer”, Lucy chuckles. My cheeks burn at the implications of her words. George? Jealous? Never in a million years would I have come to that conclusion. “But then why would he just stop talking to me?”, I ask, exasperated because Lockwood and Lucy seem to enjoy my embarrassment a little too much.

“Because it’s George”, Lockwood simply says. “That’s what he does.” A smile tugs at his lips. “I suggest we go to sleep now. Maybe you’ll have a nice dream about your lover boy.” I think my head is about to explode, and I’m not sure which one he is talking about. I look over to Lucy for help, but she just bites her lip to keep from bursting out laughing. “Lockwood is right”, she manages to say, before she can’t hold her laughter anymore. I hurry out of the kitchen, face beet red.

#lockwood & co #lockwood and co #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood #george karim #george cubbins #lucy #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george x reader #george karim x reader

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androgymagnus · 2 years

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HI JUST WANTED TO ASK did u just watch glass onion because I watched it yesterday and can see ur reblogs AND WOULD LOVE TO HEAR UR THOUGHTS!!!!!!!

Also I want to draw a fake movie poster for it so bad. It deserved nicer posters w janelle monae covered in blood fr (the glass letter ones r sexy tho)

ALSO HELP I just connected the dots that Phillip is Blancs partner oh my god. Gay people r real

LKJDFLG YEAH I DID <33 i loved it it's very good

i love it when a movie like. totally turns everything on its head at the halfway point and recontextualizes everything that's already happened. lkie. yes please bend my mind into little circles

and just generally i liked the twists and turns and it was visually interesting and like, it actually held my attention the whole time. i was never on my phone or distracted i watched the whole damn thing without pausing nine thousand times. which is a big deal for me, adhd king. like that says a lot

and there were just soooo many good little details, both ones i noticed and ones that i saw later being pointed out. and like the ending is so satisfying, kind of like a good episode of classic leverage but with a cinematic budget, where everything clicks into place and the rich asshole gets his just desserts and like. the characters are all fun (the "disruptors" are all so fun to hate, including miles, helen/andi is amazing, benoit blanc continues to be an icon in so many ways--i know people have said it before but i too am not immune to "protagonist who is genuinely kind and compassionate and wants to help people, cares more about other people than about "winning", etc" + he's so funny and i love how he takes no shit but does the whole polite southern columbo routine + he's GAY!!! god i love him so much, he's such a good main character--this kind of whodunnit gentleman detective thing can really like. the protagonist can make or break it--columbo works because columbo is so charming and endearing, other shows fail because the detective may be alright but just not compelling, or they lean too much into the "asshole genius" trope, benoit never falls into that and the fact he's consistently caring and compassionate is just. chefs kiss) and the plot was fun, it was like, well-done enough i wasn't like "that makes no sense" and even guessed some things, but was like, also still surprising and fun,,,,

like it's just a good whodunnit with strong deeply likable protagonists (both benoit blanc as the gentleman sleuth, and helen as the sorta watson of the movie/true main character--god both of them did such a good job, they're so iconic) and a satisfying ending

and such good humor!!! miles covering his chest when they mention his "golden titties", benoit yelling about how dumb it all is, him revealing the whole fake mystery immediately and getting tossed an ipad, THE ICONIC SCENE AT THE BEGINNING WITH THE PUZZLE BOXES I FUCKING CACKLED WHEN SHE SMASHED IT, etc

also dlkfgj help yeah when i first watched it i legit didn't make that connection either and then later when people were like "oh his boyfriend/husband/partner!!!" i was like oh yeah!!! yeah that tracks!!! like i'd heard he was gay but i'm fucking stupid and somehow just did NOT make that connection at all

anyway im not saying it was perfect, i'm sure it had flaws, but i really enjoyed it and i'm definitely going to force my mom to watch it when she gets home from her christmas holiday trip

would love to see these posters 👀 feel free to tag me if you post them

#i dont think i have anything new/revolutionary to say like all my thoughts ive already seen other people saying #but basically: good movie! i enjoyed it!#ive watched a lot of movies this week bc ive been all lethargic and low energy and glass onion was probably... possibly my favorite #definitely one ofm y favorites though #i also liked slumberland but that one i have some criticisms of but also i just enjoyed it so much and ALSO jason momoa as flip.#hot take i've said it once and i'll say it again: jason momoa is hotter as flip than he is as aquaman. sorry not sorry.#glass onion spoilers #askbox #kar-krashew

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alreadyblondenow · 3 years

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Cupid in love

Pairing: Cupid!Jaehyun x female!reader

Genre: SMUT, FLUFF, angst?

WC: 3,150k

Warnings: FANTASY GALORE. rough break up sex, unprotected sex, slight nipple play, swearing, mentions of other idols

A/N: NOT PROOFREAD. I’ll fix it once I have time.. For NCT-WRITERS Cafe Resonance

—————

Walking around the mall alone and witnessing yet another beautiful, and successful Valentines Day for the year of 2021 and you’re the only person in the world who knew the man behind this beautiful day.

“Alone during Valentine’s day Y/n? Jaehyun hyung can’t come?” Mark, the waiter from the cafe asked you while he serves you your third round of your favorite warm drink. This is where you and Jaehyun first met, and you have been celebrating Valentines day for nearly three years here now just because Jaehyun can see all the lovers holding hands through that clear glass. All his hard work has paid off.

But tonight, he is already two hours late and you wonder why because he has never been late on Valentine’s Day.

“Uhm, Jaehyun will be a little bit late. Business trip. But I completely understand his schedule” you smiled and thanked him.

Of course you’re not sad that Jaehyun couldn’t make it on time this year. Maybe he got caught up with a little work an emergency perhaps? But you do hope that this is nothing serious.

Three Valentine’s Day ago

You were sitting quietly at Cafe Resonance with a warm drink on your side. Just admiring the happy couples that are enjoying the day with flowers, sweets, and different kinds of surprises. It was a normal day for you, but not until a very handsome man sat in front of you on the other side of the table. Giving you three pieces of Cafe Resonance’s Valentine cookies.

A cupid in his human form. Came out to play and enjoy his day for his own selfish needs. The gods forbade Jaehyun to celebrate his own day so he could stay pure like the god that he is and remain sinless and worthy. But the young cupid is full of passion and curiosity that he took his chance to walk on Earth and make himself meet someone that can satisfy his physical wants.

“The cafe manager said that if I want someone to fall on love with me, I should give them a Valentine cookie” he said and flashed a very handsome smile at you. Knowing all too well that what the manager told him was complete bullshit, because no one can force love to happen with anyone but him.

At least that’s what he knew.

Your first encounter with Jaehyun was surprisingly refreshing and fun. You ate all the cookies that he gave and to be honest you only did that to show him that you’re interested with him too, and also it’s not so bad to fall in love with someone like him. He’s nice, decent and well mannered. Though it’s pretty obvious that he’s after for some Valentine’s sex, and you have no problem with that.

At the end of the day, the man made you scream in bed, fucked you on the wall and made you cum for more three times using his cock. He sure knew how to fuck, you thought.

But the bitter feeling and ugly thought of waking up without him by yourself the next day is something you don’t want to happen so even though you’re dead tired from the sex, you try si hard not to sleep yet and make the best of this moment by asking too much questions to him that he likes answering.

Was the valentine cookie from Cafe Resonance real? Is it really possible for you to fall in love with a stranger?

“Go sleep. I promise I’m still here when you wake up” he said.

And he kept his promise not only the day after Valentine’s Day, but also for the next few weeks. Who would expect that a cupid who just wanted to have fun during his day, wasn’t so immune with love after all. And who would expect that he’s willing to be punished by the gods because of you? But what amazes Jaehyun the most, is how you fell in love with him. Because even as a cupid, he didn’t made you like him or used his powers for his selfishness.

Either way, he still refused on believing that the Valentine cookie was real and effective. Such kind of love mustn’t be tolerated he thought.

Life with Jaehyun was sweet and real. Too beautiful to ruin. That’s why when Jaehyun said that he’s leaving, you didn’t take it lightly which soon lead to your first fight.

Jaehyun didn’t have much of a choice but to tell you the truth. Even though you just laughed at him when he finally said the words, he secretly hoped that you’d still understand because he believes that you love him.

“I don’t have a choice Y/n. I’ve been away for months now. I am neglecting my duty as a cupid, by this time the happy couples that we saw during Valentine’s day could have broken up already because I’m not around” he explains frustratedly.

“So you’re saying that you’re the cupid and couples can break up because you’re not around. Because you’ve been busy being happy with me?”

“Yes” he answered weakly and reached for your hand to kiss it. Promising you that he will come back and find you. “It’s just for a year. I’ll sort everything out and I promise I’ll give the love that you deserve”

And as Jaehyun left you as soon as the truth was revealed, you let him leave you with a big doubt and judgement in your heart. Is he secretly married and you’re a mistress now? Have you done something wrong to make him leave you like this? And these ugly thoughts ran thru your mind for months and months during his absence.

During your wait for Jaehyun’s return, you decided to move on and just date anyone to forget everything about Jaehyun. But every time that you plan a date with someone, the set date will be either cancelled or the guy won’t show up. Little did you know that Jaehyun is the man behind those unfortunate events. Secretly watching you from a cloud above you, guiding you towards patience until he returns and win your heart again.

It was not easy for Jaehyun to see you like this, purposely forgetting everything about him like he was just a dream to you. He can’t let that happen, for he knew that what you have is love.

On the next Valentine’s Day, you can’t believe who showed up in your doorstep. He didn’t change a bit, and neither his feelings for you.

“Can I come inside?” the cupid asked nervously.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing, but seriously what are you doing here Jae?”

“I told you I’d come back right? I’m here now, and we don’t have much time-“

“I have a boyfriend now so please leave me alone”

“That’s a lie. I know everything about you, I’ve watch you every day from above for a whole year. Please just believe me. Don’t push me away, I kept my promise didn’t I? I’m here now”

And the thought of Jaehyun keeping his promise was enough for you to welcome him in but your heart is still cold and broken because of what happened from the past.

As you and Jaehyun sit and have a decent conversation, he showed his wings which is enough proof to believe him that he really is the cupid. You were speechless for hours, and your apartment’s for corners was suffocating you so Jaehyun decided to have a walk with you.

He wanted to hold your hand like every couple he sees now. He wanted to whisper how much he misses you and loves you. Ironic isn’t it? He’s the cupid who spreads love on Earth but he can’t have love for himself.

“So how old are you?” you finally spoke. Those were your first words after seeing his wings, and that was four hours ago.

“Human age is 25, but cupid age... I have no idea but let’s say almost 127 years old? That’s still young in cupid years” he smiled and let out a small laugh. Completely missing that you’re shocked to the core upon hearing his age. But now that you know more truths about him, the normal thing you would do was react hysterically and make him leave you alone. Surprisingly, you wanted to hear more about him. To hear more about the truth.

“Tell me more?” You said shyly, slowly reaching for his hand for you to hold and hold it tightly. Oh you missed him.

He smiled so big and reached in for a kiss on the forehead before he tells you more about him and to what he do. The simple walk turned into a date, and of course he brought you to Cafe Resonance to celebrate your reunion and basically your first year of knowing each other. And when you got back to your apartment, he immediately brought you to your room and fucked you all night in different positions.

“When are you going to leave?” you asked while drawing circles on his chest and savouring his warmth.

“Tomorrow” he answered weakly and tightens his embrace, “I can’t be away from duty like what I did last year. The gods might not let me see you if I continue to be stubborn”

“It’s sad. But I understand, and at least now I have something to look forward to”

Three Valentine’s Day later

Thru the years of being together, even when you don’t see each other everyday, Jaehyun always finds a way to show his love for you thru unexpected things. Big or small.

Like during your birthdays, he always sends gifts to you with sweet and short notes. Or like whenever you wake up on your side of the bed and see a feather on his side of the bed. That simply means he’s always with you, like an angel.

This year’s Valentine’s day marks your three years if staying in love with each other, and you’re more than excited with seeing him today. But given that he was hours and hours late already, you decided to call it a day and go home to rest. Maybe he will come by the next day? Nonetheless, you still believe that he will do everything just to be with you.

Three days later, he’s still nowhere to be found and it’s weird how you can’t feel him watching you anymore. What is happening?

“Hi Y/n” Mark greeted you with his normal cheerful aura. “Were you and Jaehyun supposed to meet? You completely missed him. It’s weird actually, he came here not have some coffee but instead he had a talk with the manager”

“Uh- yeah, sorry. I guess I’ll see him at home then,” you answered awkwardly and forgot the cake that you purchased.

When you came back to your apartment, finally you see his unique figure standing by the window and staring blankly at the sky.

“I thought you forgot about me, are you okay? Jaehyun?” You hugged him from behind and kissed his broad shoulders.

“Sorry about that, how are you?” He turned around and return the hug and kisses. Saying that he’s really sorry for leaving you hanging on a very special day.

“I’m fine. What happened? Is there something wrong? You look troubled” you asked, but he didn’t answer your question but instead he kissed you deeply and motioned you towards your bedroom, making a trail of discarded clothes on the floor.

And once you landed on your bed, Jaehyun immediately went on top of you and kissed your neck, all the way down to the valley between your boobs while kneading them and sucking them. His breathing was heavy and you quickly noticed it. You wanted to make him stop and make him talk, but you’re too late.

He already spread your legs wide and positioned himself between your legs, kneeling in front of you so handsomely as he starts touching your pussy with his thumb. Up and down he makes you wet and sensitive, not to mention he was really gentle and slow. At first you thought he was going to fuck you already, but to you surprise he put his two fingers inside you and came closer to you again, to suck your nipples and bite them softly until he’s satisfied.

Swollen and sensitive, that’s how he left your nipples and starts lining his cock on your entrance, slowly pushing in his cock. “Fuck” he comments with a grunt. Putting every inch of his thick and veiny cock inside of you, moving his hips slowly. His head rests on the crook of you neck, his breath tickling you but all you can do now is moan.

Moan and keep him close with your arms wrapped around his frame. And when you whispered “I love you, Jaehyun” that instantly melted his heart and fucked you even more deliciously. But he also wished you didn’t say it to him because now he knows your love is not real. Cafe resonance put you in a spell and only your true love can break it.

He got up from his comfort close to your body and got a hold on your hips, slightly lifting it so he could fuck you harder and so he could see your boobs bounce up and down, grip it whenever he wants to, pinch it whenever he wants to and suck it whenever he wants to.

Suddenly, he pulled out completely only to push back in a little harsher that your head hit the head board. He did it again. Making you hiss with the stretch from your cunt, but the pleasure is driving you insane. He then started to lick your neck and chest, pinning your arms on your side while he fucks you harder. Your moans became louder and you started gripping the sheets and just stop fighting the feeling, and accepting the intensity of every thrust Jaehyun gives you.

“Why are you so rough tonight?” You asked with ragged breaths, toes started curling, and you begged him to go slower because you don’t want to cum yet but he didn’t listen.

He made you cum for the first time tonight and it wasn’t anything you’ve ever had before. You gripped the pillow so tight, moaned his name weakly, and let you shiver and curl beneath him while his hands still roams around your body, his cock still inside you and he hasn’t cum yet, a sign that he is not yet done with you.

Little did you know, he’s scanning every inch of you, engraving your beauty while you’re naked in his mind. For this is your last night together.

“I wanted to talk-“

Jaehyun started talking but to his surprise you voluntarily move your hips and started fucking yourself. He was sure he made you weak already and fucked you hard, how is possible that you still wanted to go for another round? But he wasn’t complaining, in fact he loves the image of you fucking yourself and using him to go off.

“That’s right baby, fuck me. Go deeper” and so you followed what he wanted, after all you’re not doing this for your own pleasure, you’re doing this because you wanted him to cum too.

With widely spread legs and bouncing tits, you moved your hips up and down while Jaehyun is kneeling in between your legs and you have a complete view of Jaehyun’s fucked out face. Eyebrows furrowing, parted swollen pink lips, chanting your name over and over again and telling you how much he loves what he’s seeing and feeling.

“Oh fuck Y/n, you feel so good”

“Fuck baby”

“Go slower, I don’t want to cum yet-“

But you didn’t gave into his request simply because he didn’t go slow earlier with you. So you moved your hips faster, up and down and put on a show for him by kneading your boobs in front of him and pinching your sensitive nipples to make yourself clench around him.

In a matter of seconds, Jaehyun’s hands are around your rib, perfectly placed under your boobs, and your legs are folded so he could go deeper. He took over until he’s finally shooting his warm, thick cum inside you. Satisfied for what you’ve done to him because he landed on top of your body, so weak and his legs are still shaking.

Too tired to clean the cum dripping from your hole, too comfortable in Jaehyun’s arms and presence that you never want to let go.

On the next day, you woke up quite late and you’re all alone in your cold bed. Though you’re completely cleaned and dressed, maybe Jaehyun took care of you last night before he leaves.

Scanning your apartment for something Jaehyun left, a small note or a flower placed somewhere... but you didn’t find anything. He usually leaves with a promise of seeing together again. Maybe he forgot?

When Jaehyun found out the truth about that Valentine cookie, he immediately hated himself for giving it to you and being the root of his heartbreak right now. He needs to fix this by looking for someone that will love you despite still having his effect on you. He’s positive that once your true love showed up, you will completely forget and move on from him.

It’s weird how this year, all you did was feel an unexplainable pain in your chest. A year full of pain and you dont know where your heartbreak is coming. Not to mention, Jaehyun hasn’t been making you feel his presence lately. That’s why you feel so lonely.

6 months have already passed since the last time that you saw him. And suitors always comes in the way, and you wonder how and why because you knew Jaehyun would get rid of them.

And as months passes by, you continue to fool yourself and still believe that Jaehyun will come back to you. Even tho you felt nothing from his presence the whole year.

Until finally, you received a note from him on Valentine’s day 2022.

Go to Cafe Resonance tonight -JH

And so you did, with a big smile on your face and with a new dress you bought specifically for this occasion. You waited for his arrival, looking at your watch every minute... but he never came. Instead, he sent you another note given bu the manager of Cafe Resonance.

“I’m sorry Y/n,” Manager Chenle said handling you the note that contains the saddest news you’ve ever received.

But just before you could open the note, someone sat in front of you and asked permission to share the table with you because everywhere else is full.

“Yes its fine,” you said without even looking at him and proceed to minding your own business. Reading Jaehyun’s last note to you that says.

He is a good man, full of love and has a heart of gold. He is the one destined for you, not me. The love I can give to you, has no match to what he can give to you. I’m sorry.

“By the way I’m Johnny”

The man reached out his hand for you to shake, smiling so handsomely at you. It’s weird how your heart instantly skipped a beat. Jaehyun how could you do this to me.

#neocafe #nct-writers #neosmutcollective #neowritingsnet #cznnet #kpopscape #nct smut #jaehyun smut #jaehyun fluff #jaehyung angst #jung jaehyun #jaehyun #jaehyun nct #nct jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #nct jaehyun x reader #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct 127 smut

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 4 years

Text

Playing with fire

Summary: August Walker was the new chief of the fire station in town. He could have every girl in town. Except you. Because you didn’t want to be just another number in his long list of conquests. But just once wouldn’t matter... right?

Pairing: FiremanAU!August Walker x Nameless OFC

Wordcount: 3.3k

Warnings: Smut (dirty talk; unprotected sex; oral)

A/N: I did it! I finished my entry for @evnscvll 3K challenge. The next time I pick Firefighter AU and Beyonce’s Ego somebody please slap me. Anyways. Hope you enjoy

Masterlist

Taglist in reblog

It's on, baby, let's get lost

You don't need to call into work 'cause you're the boss

For real, want you to show me how you feel

“It’s almost 11,” Beth called from the front of the store.

“And?” You called back, distracted by the task of refilling some of the pints at the display counter.

“It’s friday,” she clarified, impatient.

“Oh…” You hummed, picking up your mug of coffee as you head outside.

It was a hot summer day. The little ice cream parlor you opened last year would probably be filled to the brink most of the day. So you allowed yourself these 30 minutes every Friday to relax and dream. Dream about the firefighters across the street that were doing their weekly workout routine outside, whenever the weather allowed it.

“He’s back,” Beth whispered as you sat down next to her.

“Who?”

“Oh you know fully well who I’m talking about.” She rolled her eyes, hiding her grin behind her glass. You turned your attention to the other side of the street, your eyes going straight to him, even if he had his back to you.

August Walker was the chief of the fire station and was well known for his strict methods and his endless charm. To you, he was the guy who did everything to get into your pants, despite your frequent rebuttal. You were better than that and refused to to be just another number on his very extensive list of conquests.

It was almost as if he knew you were talking and thinking about him, because he turned around, catching you looking at him. August winked, making you sigh and look away. It was your turn to hide your smirk behind your mug.

“I don’t get it. Why don’t you just let him rail you?” Beth asked.

“Please keep in mind you’re still talking to your boss,” You replied, even though you knew it was pointless.

Yes, Beth was your employee, but before that she was also your best friend and immune to your mood. She had been down on her luck when you decided to open your own store so it made perfect sense to hire her. She was so excited when you told her you wanted to sell self made ice cream that it was impossible not to hire her on the spot.

“Well, boss,” she started with a teasing smirk, “I want an answer to my question.”

“Look at him,” you pointed out, turning your gaze back to watch him.

“I am looking at him.”

“He could have anyone. He knows exactly what he is doing to the ovaries of everyone who has some around him. He walks like his dick needs his own postcode. Yes, he is hot. But the way he just… Carries himself, like the world is at his feet? I’m better than that.”

You could hear August shouting across the street at his firefighters making pushups. A part of you hoped that he would join them, so you had some nice images you could fall asleep to tonight.

“Oh shit.” Beth cursed next to you. August had pulled off his shirt, and joined the work out.

“And you’re saying no to that?” Beth asked. You bit your lip as you watched him, crossing your legs and feeling your core pulsating.

“I am.” You gulped.

A knock minutes after you closed the store made you sigh.

“We’re closed.” You shouted from the back, returning your attention to the task at hand just when you heard another knock.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” you groaned, dropping the dish cloth on the sink and moving to the front of the store. Beth had left an hour ago, but you still wanted to make sure everything was spotless before you head out. You froze at the door when you saw him standing outside.

August Walker in the flesh.

From the moment he set residence in your little town, rumours about him started flying. Some said he was a criminal still being searched by the CIA, which you thought was ridiculous, but you knew he was released from prison before coming here

He never told you why he had been imprisoned, you weren’t that close, but you two talked a lot. When it was just the two of you, sometimes he would let you have a glimpse of the man behind the facade he built around him.

Yes, he was the cocky, overconfident leader of the firestation, who knew exactly what he had to do to get what he wanted. Yet, when you didn’t give him what he wanted, you seemed to become a challenge for him and those August couldn’t resist.

“What do you want, August?” You asked, cleaning your hands on the apron you were wearing.

“You have some ice cream left for your favourite fireman?” He asked grinning.

“I don’t know. Did you bring Carl?” You shot back, with a smirk.

“Ouch.” His hand flew to his chest over his heart. You rolled your eyes before you opened the door. He leaned down, kissing your cheek as he walked past you and waited for you to close the door. You watched him as he walked in, wearing only sweatpants and a Tshirt, leaving little to the imagination. He knew how handsome he was, and he made sure to let the outside world know.

“Don’t you have some work to do? Some fires to extinguish?” You asked.

“I did have to actually save a cat from a tree today.” He said.

“You did not.” You laughed.

“Yes I did.” He leaned over the counter as you came back with a cup full of vanilla ice cream.

“I only have vanila left.” You said looking at him.

“Oh sometimes I really like some vanila.” He smirked.

“I might be tiny, but I am going to throw you out if you keep that up.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’d really like to see you try.” He looked at you, and the air seemed to be thicker. You looked into his eyes, your focus on his lips for only a tiny second before you busied yourself, portioning some ice cream for him.

You didn’t want to be another number on August long list of women he slept with. Yet you could feel him looking at you, undressing you with his eyes.

“There you go.” You whispered, pushing the bowl of ice towards him.

“No sprinkles?” He hummed. Looking up you gulped. He somehow got closer to you, his face only inches from yours. His tongue dared out, wetting his lips and you sighed.

“Why won’t you let me kiss you? Just once?” He breathed. You gulped, mesmerized by his oceanblue eyes, when you shook your head, and took a step back.

“Because you are going to break my heart.” You sighed. “You can keep the bowl, close the door behind you, yes?” You asked, not waiting for his answer as you turned around to walk back into the kitchen. You heard him sigh, the door closing behind him.

Bumping your head repeatedly against the wall you sighed.

When you got back to front you saw him walk away. Shaking your head you frowned when you saw that he must have forgotten something on the counter. It was a map of the city. Some buildings were circled red. Shrugging you took the map, intending to give it back to him the next time you saw him.

I consider myself lucky, that's a big deal

Why?

Well, you got the key to my heart

But you ain't gonna need it

I'd rather you open up my body

You felt watched the minute you stepped into the bar. It took almost an hour before you found out why. At the other end of the room sat August. He nodded at you once you caught his eyes, making your sigh internally.

“What’s going on with you?” Beth asked. She had nearly demanded for you to go out together. If you wouldn’t let August fuck you, she needed to find someone else. Her words not yours. Arguing with Beth was a losing game, so you put a dress and some heels on and just went with her.

“He’s here.” You said as you looked at her.

“Who?”

“Mr. “My Ego is as big as my dick””

“Oh and how would you know that?” Beth grinned, waving once to where August was sitting before she looked at you again.

“Because there’s no way he’s not big.” You took a sip from your Gin Tonic.

“So you have given it some thought?”

“My conscience has some very detailed ideas of just how.. gifted he is.” You mumbled.

“You had a sex dream with August?” She said a little too loud, causing some heads to turn towards you.

“Maybe a little louder. I think he didn’t hear it.” You groaned.

“Just… let him fuck you. Sex does work without feelings, you know?” She said encouragingly. Looking at her for a moment, you didn’t know if it was the alcohol or you just fed up with fighting against what was there between August and you. Emptying your glass you jumped from your seat.

“How do I look?” You fidget with your dress.

“Perfect.” She winked. “I’ll open up tomorrow. I don’t wanna see you until the afternoon.”

Usually I'm humble

Right now, I don't choose

You can leave with me

Or you could have the blues

“Are you following me, Mr. Walker.” You asked, making sure to sway your hips on your way over to him. He looked good with his buttoned up black shirt, the sleeves rolled up over his elbow.

“I would say yes, but that would make me a creep, wouldn’t it?” He asked, making you chuckle. “No. I was actually supposed to meet up with an old friend, but apparently I was stood up.”

“Oh and we can’t have that, can’t we?” You bit your lip.

“What are you suggesting?” He asked, bringing his bottle of beer to his lips, his eyes not leaving yours.

You leaned down, your hand on his shoulder, your lips against his ear. “Follow me and find out.” You whispered, kissing his cheek before you turned around, not even trying to hide your grin. You weren’t even out the door, when you felt hands on your hips.

“Your place or mine?” He whispered against your ear.

“Which one is closer?” You shuddered, his hand wandering down your body.

“Mine it is.” He growled against your ear, one of his hands on your stomach, pushing you against his chest. You could feel the hard outline of his cock pressed against you, making you moan quietly. You didn’t question that he seemed to know where you lived.

“I can’t wait to have you screaming my name.” He mumbled, nibbling on your ear. You melted against him, your panties becoming uncomfortable damp, as your mind took over, thinking on just how he would feel inside of you.

He talk like this 'cause he can back it up

He got a big ego

Such a huge ego

Turning in his arms your answer died on your lips as his crashed down on yours. It felt like something clicked. Holding onto him, as he deepened the kiss you didn’t care that you were standing on the sidewalk, making out like teenagers.

“Fuck.” He whispered against your lips.You opened your eyes, not even noticing having them shut in the first place. A whistle behind you made you look away from him, biting your lip.

“Your place. Now” You whispered.

“Fuck, August.” You cried out, your hands clutching the soft sheets of his bed. As soon as the door to his apartment shut behind him he had dragged you to his bed, stripping you off your clothes, before he buried his face between your thighs. He had you coming on his tongue in minutes, not giving you a chance to catch your breath when he pushed two of his fingers into your core, making you moan his name.

You were on the brink of an orgasm again, when he stopped, pulling his fingers out.

Panting you looked up at him.

“You gonna cum on my cock the next time.” He growled. Slowly pushing yourself up, you kneeled on his bed. He was still fully dressed. You helped him with the buttons of his shirt, your lips kissing up his chest with every bit of skin underneath, until you pushed it off his broad chest. There were scars on his chest. You would ask about them some other time.

His hands worked on the fly of his pants, before he pushed it down, revealing what must have been the biggest cock you had ever seen. That he was going commando wasn’t a big surprise to you. Biting your lip you reached for it, your hand barely closing around it, pumping it slowly.

“Fuck.” He hissed, throwing his head back.

“That’s gonna be one tight fit.” You joked, wondering how he would fit.

“Oh sweetheart. I’m gonna be gentle.” He breathed, kissing you quickly. “At least the first time.”

“So there will be a next time?” You asked, crocking your eyebrow. You rubbed your thumb over his tip, spreading the precum, before you brought your thumb to your lips, tasting the salty essence.

“I’m never gonna let you leave these walls.”

Pushing you down so you were laying on your back his body covered yours as he kissed you deeply. Your hands wandered up his back, disappearing in his hair. You gasped, as you felt his cock at your inner thigh.

“Fuck me, August.” You groaned against his lips. Desperate for him to fill you. He reached for this bedside table, opening the first drawer. He brought the foil package up to his lips, ripping it open. You felt yourself shivering beneath him as he rolled the condom over his cock. The tip teasing your entrance.

“I have waited for this…” He whispered, slowly pushing in.

“Jesus….” You moaned, feeling him go deeper. “Oh he can’t help you now, Sweetheart.” August grinned, biting his lip. He was still pushing in, and it felt so good.

“So fucking tight.” He groaned, stopping when he fully nestled inside your core.

“Move.” You whimpered.

“Sure?” He pressed.

“Yes. Fuck me.” You sighed, one of your hands on his ass, urging him to move. He bottomed out, thrusting back in, making you cry out.

“Yes…” You groaned. He began to move faster, pushing himself up, so he was kneeling between your legs, watching you.

“Better than I imagined.” He groaned. Bringing one of his hands down he began to rub your clit.

“Harder. Please, fuck me harder.” You gasped, your whole skin on fire as he brought you closer to the edge. You reached a hand over your head, grabbing the headboard as he pumped into you harder.

“So fucking perfect.” He growled. His other hand pinched your nipple, making you jump and cry at the same time.

“You gonna cum for me? Cum all over my hard cock?” He asked. He rubbed quick circles over your clit, not waiting for your answer, as you felt yourself cuming again, your legs shaking, warmth floating through your body.

“Yes. Just like that. Fuck.” He fucked you through your orgasm, making it last until he pulled out, pulling out the condom and shot his cum all over your stomach.

“Fuck…” He groaned, pumping his cock. You waited until he opened his eyes, before you swooped one finger, in his cum, making a show out of licking it from your finger.

“Jesus…” He groaned. You grinned.

“Oh he can’t help you now, sweetheart.” You teased, your laugh turning into a moan when he leaned down and kissed you senseless.

Against all odds, and everything you thought of him, it wasn’t just a one time thing. August and you were inseparable, much to the distraught of everyone around you. Beth caught the two of you fucking in the bathroom of your ice cream parlor once, and teased you endlessly about it.

There was still so much you had to learn about him. He never talked about his past. He once said he was ashamed of it, yet somehow you felt like there was something dark about him, the more time you spent with him. You couldn’t point out what, so you never said something. He would talk to you when he was ready.

You on the other hand were an open book to him. Not that there was much to know in the first place. And you caught yourself staying over his place more and more. Missing his presence in your house. Somehow he wasn’t a big fan of your place.

“I’ve been meaning to ask…” You began, hoping on the kitchen counter next to where he was preparing some dinner. He looked at you.

“Why are there pictures of building all around your apartment?” You asked. You’ve been asking yourself this question for a while now. Two of the buildings you saw on pictures in his office had been burned down in the last weeks. There seemed to be a fire raiser on the loose since the beginning of the years.

“We’re updating the fire security on a couple of buildings in the city…” He answered.

“Do you think they will catch the guy?”

“I don’t know. I hope so.” He sighed, before you felt his hand on your thigh, sneaking under your bathrobe.

“And what are you up to, Mr. Walker?” You grinned, the many questions you still had forgotten.

“I think I want a taste of dessert first.” He whispered, before he parted your legs and got on his knees.

It was about 6 months of you two dating when he asked you to move in with him. You had laughed, but stopped immediately when you saw the serious look on his face.

“Oh you were serious.” You said.

“Of course I am.”

“But August…” You sighed, walking over to where he was sitting at a table in your little cafe. You put your hand on his shoulder, sitting down on his lap. You thought he smelled like fuel, but you didn’t question it.

“My house is much bigger than your place. And we both only have been dating for a half year. Let’s give it a bit more time.” You said, kissing him softly. He sighed against your lips, his arms pulling your closer.

“Okay.” He whispered back.

Yet when he came back from a job a couple days later, a frown on his face, something felt off.

“What happened?”

“It’s your house.” He sighed, walking over to you.

“What about my house?” You asked, now frowning yourself.

“Someone burned it down. We tried everything but we were too late. It burned down completely.” He said. All colors left your face.

“What?” You croaked.

“I really tried. We really tried. I’m so sorry, Sweetheart.” He sighed. You could feel the tears running down your face, sobbing when his arms put you against his body. He still smelled of smoke.

“But… All my stuff… Oh god… Where am I gonna live?” You asked against his shirt.

“Stuff you can replace. And… I already asked you if you wanted to move in.”

“But...” You sniffed.

“We can talk it out later. Now you need a place to stay..” He said, kissing your hair.

“You’re serious?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Of course. Move in with me while you figure this out.” He said softly.

What other choice did you have really?

“Okay.” You nodded.

Later that night when you were sound asleep in August arms you didn’t see his smile. His whispered words of love as he looked down at you. You didn’t know that it was him who burned down your house. Or all the houses in the city. And you never would. Because August Walker finally got what he wanted. You.

#fanfic #fanfiction #august walker #henry cavill #august walker au #august walker x reader #August Walker x ofc #august walker smut

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tabletoptrinketsbyjj · 3 years

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Trinkets, Rings, 3: Enough rings and bands to wear three on every finger and toe while still having dozens to spare. Rings, especially magic rings are a very common item of jewelry in fiction and roleplaying. From a basic ring of protection, to the life saving ring of regeneration, the ring of the Nibelungs, the rings of the lantern corps, the ring of Gyges, any wedding ring ever depicted, the ring of Solomon, Sir Perceval’s ring, Aladdin’s genie housing ring, the nine rings of mortal men and the precious one ring of power, these small circular pieces of gems, metal, wood or bone always add more to the story than the sum of their parts. None of these rings are intensely magical in their own right but can serve as basis for a magical or plot relevant ring. When a DM rolls a d100, the bog standard ring of protection +1 they were going to give out now has a unique look and personality rather than just a mechanical benefit.

A big heavy ring made of sterling silver. On the face of the ring is a skull the size of a large man’s thumb, run through with a lance and a flag fluttering around it. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize the sigil as that of the Mad Lancer’s an infamous cavalry unit that was a force of nature as much as a military company.

An onyx ring set with a shimmering opal, from which a thin line of black smoke continuously billows forth.

A shinning brass signet ring that proudly displays a raised fist against a red starburst. Knowledge PC's will recognize the sigil as the symbol of a paladin order known as the Boros Legion. There's a weight to it that belies its size, a weight of strength and of pride.

A cheap-looking tin ring that has a small dial adorned with letters of the alphabet that can be aligned with various strange pictographs. Knowledgeable PC's will recognize it as a decoder ring and can be used to decipher texts that were written using this specific ring or a twin of it.

A ring comprised of two interlocking bands, one gold engraved with a motifs of laughing faces and the other granite with a motif of faces set in stony silence.

A lead ring bearing engravings of an otherworldly entity spreading its unnatural gifts.

Ring of Fire Detection: A pure white ring set with a transparent red gemstone. The gemstone will light up and emit a piercing sound if the ring comes into direct contact with fire, magical or otherwise.

A simple black ring is polished to a shine, and written in gold lettering around the outer band is the phrase "I am better off healed than I ever was unbroken."

A crudely made gold ring set with a huge green gemstone that glows faintly even in full daylight.

An iron ring set with a dark ruby of great size and splendor. Within its heart flickers a mysterious flame, entrapped there in ages past by a masterful mage.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

An onyx ring set with a shimmering opal, from which a thin line of black smoke continuously billows forth.

A ring comprised of two interlocking bands, one gold engraved with a motifs of laughing faces and the other granite with a motif of faces set in stony silence.

A lead ring bearing engravings of an otherworldly entity spreading its unnatural gifts.

A simple black ring is polished to a shine, and written in gold lettering around the outer band is the phrase "I am better off healed than I ever was unbroken."

A crudely made gold ring set with a huge green gemstone that glows faintly even in full daylight.

An iron ring set with a dark ruby of great size and splendor. Within its heart flickers a mysterious flame, entrapped there in ages past by a masterful mage.

A thin ring made of two intertwining strands of silver and gold, both ornate and simple in appearance.

A silver ring in the shape of a spider whose legs clasp around the wearer’s finger and whose body is a yellowish gem.

An unassuming copper ring clean and shiny like a new penny, it has dozens of smiling faces faintly carved into its surface.

A silver ring with golden ram's horns curling around the edge of its crown.

A bog iron ring with a poem in Druidic on the inside.

An onyx ring. When tapped three times, a faint blue light shows the symbol of an assassin’s guild.

A pair of black iron body piercing rings, with a chain linking them.

A copper ring with a small clear gem that shimmers slightly even in the dark. It is badly crafted with scuffs and scratches along the loop and yet there is something quaint about it that suggests more value than the first impression would suggest.

A silver banded ring with a single white gem encased in the center. Etched into the surface are ancient glyphs, binding its power to an individual to be used as a focus. The head of the ring is a flat surface which is adorned with an intricate ritualistic circle design.

A lavender ring with a cosmic gemstone faceted into it. The gem moves and glows like outer space, and has a spiral vortex pattern along its edges.

An iron signet ring whose symbol can be changed once per day by the bearer. The image must be something the bearer has seen and remembers clearly.

A crystalline ring in the shape of a dragon, that changes based on the bearer’s emotional state.

A gold ring whose Randomly Colored gemstone levitates just out of the socket, following wherever the ring goes.

A platinum ring that has a large blue sapphire embedded in the band. When the bearer looks into the stone, he can see a perfect reflection of himself that appears to have a life all of its own. Engraved on the inside of the band one can see a message that reads; "Never lose sight of your true self".

A single human tooth encased in a brass ring, inscribed with a twin-tailed comet. Knowledge PC’s will recognize it as a holy reliquary of a relatively famous prophet and devout follower of the God of the Outer Stars.

An oxidized copper ring etched with ancient hieroglyphs that tell a timeless fable.

A brass ring set with an oversized, round brown bezoar for a gemstone. Extremely ugly, by modern standards.

A heavy silver ring with a flat, round head. A cap lifts off the top, revealing a folded-down needle, which may be lifted into place, and the markings of a sundial around it. None of the marks, all twiggy, natural shapes, correspond to modern notation, save the fact there are 12.

A ruby ring, heavy, plain, and gold, set with a fat, badly cut ruby that's entirely stuck on a finger bone. In modern times, it would be a man’s thumb ring, though an ugly one. The band surrounds a thick finger bone and won’t come off (But could be chiseled out) as the knuckles are knobby and too wide. The bone is fragile with age, and conspicuously blackened.

A signet ring, quite wide, made of cast iron. The signet face is that of a beaked skull, one halfway between that of a human and a crow. The ring is too wide for a human to wear and seems to have been designed for a finger twice that size.

A horrific black ring that turns translucent when submerged in a water and uncoils into a slippery, leech-like tentacle when unworn.

A wide, red brass ring, that's plain, on the exterior. There is lettering inside the band, raised and sharp. If worn on a clenched fist, the lettering digs painfully into its finger, leaving the word "memento" imprinted in red welts.

A mithral ring, engraved with a pattern of rolling waves that encircles the entire band. The ring is immune to rust, both from natural oxidation and rust caused by magical effects.

A steel ring that carries the sign of an armorers’ guild: a stylized helmet with visor, two crossed swords and the rune “A” engraved beneath them.

A lapis colored gemstone embedded into a ring that is stylized with the alchemical symbol of a circle inside a square, inside a triangle, inside another circle.

A mysterious ring; ancient, covered in runes. After spending some minutes sniffing, touching, and examining the thing, the bearer can safely say it exudes an aura of magic. When worn is makes the bearer's hairs stand on end and sparks jump between the metal and his fingers.

A ring carved from a single solid gemstone that glows with an inner light and pulses with its wielder’s heartbeat.

A simple pale stone that sits atop a plain steel band, flickering every so often with unknown power.

A simple gold band studded with blue diamonds. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize it as a ring of office for the Grand Vizier, the highest advisor to a great rajah.

Ring of Bubbles: A delicate ring made of multicolored glass. When this ring is held between two fingers and dipped it into a solution of soap and water, a creature can blow through it to produce dozens of fist sized, glowing, technicolor bubbles which are difficult to pop and last for up to a minute.

Ring of the Firebuilder: A ring made of worked flint. When struck with a piece of steel, it sheds sparks that are able to ignite objects as normal. The sparks created from the ring never harm the bearer, who gains Advantage on igniting objects with the ring.

A ring crafted of simple silver. The band is etched with different letters from all languages of the realms, some unrecognizable to any living person.

A thickly banded ring made of black steel. It sits heavy on the bearer's finger never feeling fully comfortable.

A sapphire banded in gold with a loop of string around it to go around the bearer's neck. The inside of the gem appears to be filled with flowing water that swirls and sloshes magnificently inside the sapphire.

A pewter ring with an inlaid gold band that slowly rotates.

A band of tarnished silver bearing no ornament or inscription, but is icy cold to the touch. The patches of dark corrosion on the ring subtly move and change. This never occurs while anyone observes the ring, but happens constantly.

A gold ring shaped in the form of a manacle, uncomfortably tight regardless of how it's worn.

A brass band in the shape of a dragon’s claw, scuffed and tarnished with age and frequent use.

A ring made from woven lead and silver.

A brass ring, set with rubies and engraved with fire runes, holds a lens of orange-red crystal that has an esoteric circle lightly etched in the glass.

A ring of silver green mithril engraved with runes from the enchantment school of magic. Though plain looking, the edges of the band are decorated with an intricate design of miniaturized knotwork.

An oversized ancient golden ring bears the silver hawk crest of the Yragerne family line on its large flat top.

An ornate golden ring set with a perfect square-cut emerald. A noble insignia on both sides of the gem features two eagles flying in opposite directions.

A platinum ring in the shape of a coiled snake. Its eyes are two perfectly cut rubies. The ring has a mesmerizing aura that attracts the eyes of the greedy and the vain. Only a person with clear desires and unclouded wants is unaffected by its allure.

A dwarven-forged amethyst ring bearing the inscription “Cracked from the hammer of the Forge-Father”

A garnet ring that causes the bearer’s hand to appear to be clawed and demonic.

A signet ring that will magically re-size itself to fit the wearer, but only if the wearer is a direct descendant of the creator of the ring.

A rose gold ring that, when put on, periodically gives the wearer the distinct feeling that he or she is forgetting something important.

A platinum ring set with an opal cracked in a star pattern, like a tiny sun when the light passes through it.

A simple black ring polished to a shine, and written in gold lettering around the outer band is the phrase "Three things cannot be long hidden: the Sun, the Moon, and the Truth.

A bizarre looking ring that could easily be mistaken for a piece of forest debris. Its thorn covered surface throbs with the sensation of a beating heart when placed on the left ring finger.

Sphinx Ring: A small band with a little head of a lion, made of limestone. By stroking the band while worn, the lion whispers a riddle based on events which its bearer has witnessed, and the riddles can vary widely in difficulty, from simple riddles to questions only previous bearers could logically answer. If the answer is correct, the ring purrs, while if incorrect, it roars. It is mostly used to pass the time during long travels, but nobles have been known to use them in party games.

A transparent ring of blue-green resin that smells of strange magical forests. The band is slick to the touch, but never slips off of a finger accidentally.

An unassuming bronze ring that seems less than spectacular in every way and boasts no gems to speak of on its surface. However, within the band lies a diamond pressing softly against the bearer's skin.

A rusty iron ring that appears to show a dusty landscape within it, changing as it’s moved. The finger the ring is worn on always feels warm and dry.

A sealing ring, with the image of a smiling, winking imp.

A band carved from a single chunk of raw amethyst, capped with a black pearl in a truesilver setting. In darkness, the ring glows with a faint purple hue.

A ring whose outer edge has six flat edges, so that it presents a hexagonal appearance. One of the sides bears a setting carved of obsidian, topped by a small black diamond

A ring that is more like a wrap designed to completely encase the bearer’s finger. It is formed of what appears to be a thin sheet of platinum laced with spidery gold webbing. Once slid over a finger, the covering becomes as flexible as cloth and stays in place until the bearer removes it.

A ring consisting of a truesilver core surrounded by a torus of azure ice coated in a slick sheen, as though in the process of melting. The ring is cold to the touch and though the ice remains slippery, it never melts and the ring is never in danger of slipping off the finger unexpectedly.

A ring crafted from pure white gold encrusted with speck- sized fragments of diamond. When held to the light, it produces a prismatic effect, sparkling and gleaming with all the colors of the rainbow.

A ring made entirely of silver, intricately carved in fine patterns. Four small opals are set into the surface at regular intervals. When the ring is worn, they slowly orbit the finger without ever leaving the band.

A black ring made from a single piece of obsidian and bears a gold inlay design of chains.

A ring made up of filaments of bone and black iron of various thicknesses, twisted together in a strange mottled composite.

A ring carved from moonstone in the shape of a miniature, cable-twisted torc. The end-caps of the "torc" rest where a signet would be, each mounting a tiny, curved feline claw cast from silver.

A signet ring made of heavy lead with a distinctively abnormal design carved into it.

A brass ring encasing a small, polished moldavite.

A silver ring made out of very fine wire worked into rather complicated decorative ornament.

An ornate brass signet ring with a coiled serpent design with two freshwater pearls for eyes. The ring has a poison pill compartment that is currently empty.

A small copper ring, inset with flawed pearls.

A ring made out of blond hair and porcelain braided together. Wearing it slowly causes the bearer to experience apathy towards everything.

A mysterious bronze ring, ancient and marked with eldritch signs.

A pewter ring in the shape of a crab with its claws pressed to its body and the legs forming the ring. The shell, claws, and legs of the crab are set with polished abalone and the eyes are tiny garnets.

An adamantine ring is set with a cabochon cut water opal.

A platinum ring set with a large diamond surrounded by a circle of smaller sapphires and rubies. The gems gleam brightly in even the dullest light. An inscription on the inside of the band reads simply “for Alenea” in Elven.

A larger than average ring that looks like sheets of gold woven together into a simple pattern. Despite its size, ring feels almost weightless. On the inside of the ring there is an engraved; "A.Z."

A silver ring encrusted with dark gems. Upon inspection the ring itself smells of earth, mud and worms.

A brass ring that is crudely constructed with dent marks and battle burns.

A lapis colored gemstone embedded into a ring that is stylized with the alchemical symbol of a circle inside a square, inside a triangle, inside another circle.

A simple bronze ring sized for a giant's finger.

A plain-looking wooden ring with no characteristic marks or engravings. It almost looks as though the carpenter who fashioned it never got around to finishing it.

A copper ring shaped like knotted brambles.

A copper ring shaped like a dragon clutching its own tail, holding a moonstone it its mouth.

A petrified stone fist wearing a golden ring. It is impossible to remove the ring without destroying the fist.

A silver ring shaped like rolled arrow.

A bone ring with a deep purple inlay, set with an onyx.

An emerald ring that gives the bearer an abnormally strong sense of balance. The bearer is rendered immune from mundane vertigo effects such as dizziness from heights or seasickness.

A black stone ring made for the middle finger of a man's hand. The band is carved in the shape of a vine with thorns.

An iron band flecked with onyx pieces and is always cold to the touch.

A rough-hewn silver band with a single purple stone inset. No matter how long it is held, it is cold to the touch. While worn, the bearer occasionally hears strange dissonant whispers in Deep Speech promising power and domination over others.

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lihikainanea · 3 years

Note

God Lei I had such a day😭🥺😰do you have any thoughts on how Bill would comfort Tiger if she had a situation at work that was like 99.99999% her fault(or at least she feels that way)that there’s not really any way to fix, it’s just one of those things that has to be and has to pass when it occurs?

Ohhhh man kid, I been there. I been there so many times.

Look, the thing with Bill--at least in my world--is that Bill has a real thick skin. You don't survive in Hollywood unless you're at least partially immune to criticisms of any kind, and while he's still human--there's a big part of him that doesn't really care what other people think.

What's that old adage about lions and the opinions of sheep? Yeah, that. If the people don't matter to him, then neither do their opinions. Sure he has his weak points, his points where the entire world just seems too loud for him and he DOES start to pay attention to the murmurings, but the majority of the time, he just...doesn't care.

Bill realized a long time ago that you can either care what everybody thinks or you can have a career in Hollywood--but you can't do both.

And I think tiger really admires that side of Bill, admires the way he can just flick that off switch an not care. Not about the people who don't matter, anyway. But tiger? for all her fiery exterior, tiger cares a little too much.

And listen, as much as I like my fairy tale paradises much as I want to turn this into maybe something happened that wasn't her fault-I also want to go the other way. Because sometimes we fuck up in a big way. Sometimes something is all our fault because we didn't think, we didn't do what we were supposed to, we got lazy or knowingly shoved something aside. Sometimes it's honest mistake, sometimes it isn't. And hell I've gotten fired from like 6 jobs in my life--for everything from an attitude problem to a genuine mistake--so I'm kind of partial tot his idea that tiger really did fuck up, because there's a much heavier magnitude to it.

So look, she fucks up. Big time. And she calls Bill at lunch, bawling her eyes out over it. She got in trouble at work, maybe it escalated to the real top dog in charge, and tiger got a heavy reprimanding. And she's embarrassed, she's remorseful, she's so full of shame and bad feelings and she's tormented at what she did. Her job might be on the line. All of which she's attempting to squeak out to him over the phone, but she's wheezing and her sobs are breaking up her sentences and Bill is just trying to get the gist of what happened, tell her to breathe, try to calm her down.

"Tiger, do you want me to come to you?" he offers. And he offers it more because he knows he'll be a little more successful at calming her down, at thwarting an asthma attack, if she's there in front of him.

"No I, I have to get back," she stammers through tears, "Oh god Bill. Oh god--"

"Tiger, just get through the next few hours okay?" he tries to soothe, "Yes, you fucked up and yes, it's bad. But get through the next few hours and we'll sort this out together."

"How am I supposed to go back in there?" she mutters.

"The same way you always do, full of piss and vinegar and with your head held high. It was a mistake, kid."

"A bad one, Bill I--"

"You're going to get through the afternoon and you're going to come home, I'll pour you a drink, and we'll talk it out for as long as you need," he says, "Just a few more hours, kid."

She nods even though he can't see her.

"Okay," she acquiesces, "A few more hours."

And listen, when she gets home, Bill is ready. He pours her a real strong drink, and pulls her in for a long hug. He helps her out of her work clothes, sits her up on the counter while he takes her make up off for her, and then he plunks her on the couch with her feet in his lap--and he listens. He just listens. It's clear that she wants to talk, and that's how tiger figures things out sometimes--or at least, how she gets over them. She talks them through, sometimes in circles, re-living every small detail but Bill just listens. He asks questions when he can, but otherwise he just lets her rant and lets her cry.It's going to be a long night, because tiger processes things by just going over them time and time again. She's not hungry, and while he will insist she eat a little something later on, right now she just needs to calm down a bit. And once her cheeks are mostly dry, once she's just more tired than anything else, that's when he helps her to the second part.

Tiger is anal retentive to an insane degree. She needs a plan, not advice. She needs to identify every possible scenario and work through it. So he gets his laptop and sets back on the couch.

"Alright, what's scenario A?" he asks. Tiger takes in a deep, shaky breath and knocks the rest of her whiskey back--he leans over and refills her glass.

"Scenario A," she says, "Is that I get fired."

His fingers tap that out.

"And what's the plan for that?"

"The plan is I go massively into debt, can't pay my rent, and end up living on the street."

He holds in the sigh and he barely contains his eye roll, and taps it out.

"Solution?" he asks.

"None."

But that, he won't be having that.

"Solution is you have a rich best friend who covers your rent and all expenses while you look for work," he says, and that's what he taps out.

"Bill--"

"What's Scenario B?" he interrupts.

"Scenario B," she sighs, "Is that I get a heavy reprimanding from work, maybe taken off a few projects."

"Okay," he taps, "Solution?"

"Just time," she says, "It's going to suck. I'm going to be embarrassed. But I can't fight it. I just....fucked up."

And it continues like that. Bill just listens very patiently for hours, hell maybe they run through the whole alphabet in scenarios, but he knows it's the only thing that will help her. Just running through every possible outcome, and its solutions. When she's finally basically asleep sitting up, he takes her (fourth) whiskey glass from her and crowds her space, just gets right up in there and puts his knee between her legs, hovers over her as she looks up at him.

"Let me be clear about one thing kid," he says, and it's that no-nonsense tone, "The scenario you can always rely on is me being there. Always, kid. You'll never end up on the street, you'll never be behind in your bills, and you'll never be hungry. I've got you."

And she opens her mouth to protest, but he places a hand over it.

"I've got you," he says again, "Clear? Call it Scenario double A."

She kisses his palm.

"Scenario double-Z?" she offers, "The last resort."

"Whatever you want to call it," he says, "It's there. Always."

#bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drabble #BFF!Bill

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join-the-joywrite · 4 years

Text

But suddenly from somewhere out of the blue, I see a different light around you.

For Anon: Julie and Luke, family friends, end up sick together. While cooped up sick at Julie's, a little conversation leads to a lot of secrets.

A/N: skdjje I am so sorry it took me this long to get to it sjjdje and this kind of got away from me once I finally got into writing it oops.

Special thanks to @i-spit-on-fire for the title!! Love you, doll 🥰

Julie Molina had a great friend circle. She loved each of them equally. Well, maybe Flynn got a bit more than everyone else but then again, Flynn had also seen Julie throwing up the last time she had food poisoning so maybe Flynn deserved a little extra love for sticking around past that.

The only person in the circle that could contend for Flynn's level of appreciation in Julie's eyes was Luke Patterson. And it was only because her mom and his dad were childhood friends, which, naturally, led to Julie and Luke growing up childhood friends.

Despite their close friendship, Luke and Julie rarely interacted at school. They had their own, smaller, circles and that was perfectly okay. Their circles merged after Luke and his friends played live music for Julie's theater performance when the radio gave out without warning. Well, to get more specific, it was some time after Alex and Willie started dating and involving both their friends on lunches and hangouts.

So yeah, things were great, school was fun and they all had a bunch of fun together. They even planned to visit an amusement park that Saturday too.

Unfortunately, the trip to the amusement park seemed like it was gonna have to wait.

"I told you not to hug me," Julie grumbled through her stuffy nose.

Luke pulled a face for her. "I didn't. I hugged my mom and then you hugged my mom. I'm not at fault here."

Julie sighed. "You think she's sick, too?"

"Nah, mom's got a great immune system. She probably just has a slight cough."

Just then a coughing bout overtook Julie. Leaning forward in her chair, she took a few deep breaths, relaxing as she felt Luke's hand moving in slow circles on her back. Slowly, her breathing returned to normal and the sharp ache in her forehead subsided. When she sat back again, she leaned her head against Luke. "I hate being sick. This is all your fault."

"We've just been over this. I didn't hug you."

"Potato, pot-ah-to."

Luke rolled his eyes. "You know you're heavy, right?"

Julie's response was to stop half-supoorting herself and drop all her weight on Luke's side, nearly sending them both off their chairs.

"If you weren't so sick, I'd . . . I'd pinch you!"

"You mean, if you had the energy to do it."

"Yeah, whatever," Luke managed to say before he coughed too, albeit much less than Julie. "Think your mom will drop me home?"

"You live right next door, idiot. Obviously."

When Rose walked into the nurse's office, she sighed at the two teens. "We told you two to stay at home. Come on, let's go."

As Rose pulled into her driveway, Luke thanked her for the ride.

"Where do you think you're going, mijo?"

"H-home?" Luke asked uncertainly, his hand on the door handle.

"Your parents are out of town for the weekend."

"Yeah," Luke nodded, "I was gonna stay over at Bobby's but I don't wanna make him sick--"

"Well, Julie's already sick anyway. You can stay with us and when you're feeling better, you can go over to Bobby's."

"But--"

"Mijo, I'm not asking," Rose said, staring at Luke in the rearview mirror, daring him to get out of the car.

Julie snickered at the fear in his eyes as he settled back into the seat and waited until Rose had pulled further up towards the house before attempting to get out again.

"Why don't you two go get comfortable on in the living room, hm? I'll put some food up for you and it'll be ready before you even know it."

Julie yawned as she trudged past Rose and into the house. "Can we sleep instead?"

"Absolutely. Go get some rest, okay? Luke, if you're tired, you can sleep in Carlos' room. He's spending the week with Victoria so it's all yours if you need, okay?"

"Thank you," Luke managed before a yawn interrupted him.

Rose ruffled Julie's hair first, then Luke's. Now, what could she feed them that they'd manage to keep down?

"Sorry I made you sick," Luke mumbled.

Julie shrugged. "It's okay. Flynn said she was gonna drag me on the biggest rollercoaster first so in a way, I'm kinda glad we won't be going tomorrow."

Luke rolled his eyes. "You do this everytime we go. Just get on the rollercoaster. It's not that much bigger than the one we went on last time."

Julie stared at Luke over her bowl of soup. "I passed out."

Luke shrugged. "It makes for a good story!"

"For you!"

"Don't yell, Julie, you don't have the lung capacity."

Julie scrunched up her nose and mocked Luke in a high voice. "You don't have the lunch capacity."

"Oh, real mature."

Julie blew a raspberry at Luke. A raspberry that turned into a cough. Luke was out of his blanket in a second.

"Julie?" Rose called from the kitchen. "You good, baby?"

"I got it!" Luke called back. He knelt in front of Julie as she hunched over and rubbed her back in small circles. "Easy, Jules," he murmured.

"I hate being sick," Julie said for the umpteenth time, resting her chin on Luke's shoulder.

Luke froze, one hand on Julie's arm, the other on her back. What was he supposed to do now? Just . . . hold her?

"I know," he said soothingly, "you'll get better quickly, don't worry."

"Ugh, I hope so." Slowly, Julie pulled away and eased back into the couch.

Luke pouted, only because he wanted to stay holding Julie in a gentle and comfortable embrace. He scrunched his nose up and quickly shook his head. What the hell was that all about?

He was back in his corner of the couch, under his blanket, when Rose arrived with a glass of water for each of them.

"I'm going to get dinner running and when I come back to check on you two, those glasses better be empty."

"Yes, mom," they chorused.

It wasn't really a big thing. Luke called her 'mom' often. Julie even called Emily 'mom' if she happened to be over at Luke's. But that didn't take away from Rose's (or Emily's) absolute delight over being called mom by her honorary child.

"Sorry I made fun of you when you first got sick," Julie mumbled.

"It's okay," Luke said with a slight laugh, half paying attention to Julie and half paying attention to the TV. They'd taken a good nap and were already feeling better. "Karma got you, I guess."

"I guess."

"You got it bad, though," Luke said, glancing at Julie. "I never coughed like that."

"Exhibit A of why I utterly detest being sick. The headache is unbearable sometimes." Julie gave Luke a small smile. "But it's okay. I should already be feeling better by tomorrow."

Julie turned her gaze back to the TV. Luke didn't. He kept his gaze on Julie, watching her carefully. He'd always had the natural inclination to want to care for Julie, but until then it had always been small things. Wanting to make sure her cuts and scrapes got a band-aid. Wanting to check in with a simple text when she was sick. Wanting to be sure her work was up to date when she missed out.

But now . . . now it was a little different. It wasn't really strange, but he couldn't quite understand it. Why, when she complained about her headache, did he want to pull her close and try to distract her from it? Why, when she hunched over coughing, did he want to be by her side, holding her close and trying to ease the fit? Why, when she paid him no attention, did he want to just sit there and watch her?

Julie glanced back and Luke froze like a deer in headlights, his already pink cheeks growing redder. Julie grinned. "Is that the fever or are you shy about something?"

"Definitely the fever," Luke said quickly.

"Uh huh," Julie said with a grin, turning back to the TV again. "I think you're pretty cute too."

Luke shrank into his blanket. "I didn't say that."

"Your face said enough, Patterson."

"You really think I'm cute?"

Julie looked at Luke, who had the blanket wrapped over his head as he pouted at her. His flushed cheeks had calmed to the usual pink whenever he was running a fever. She couldn't help but smile. "The cutest."

He beamed. "I think you're pretty cute too. Wait, that's what you said--"

"Cute," Julie mumbled under her breath, shaking her head and turning back to the TV. She was surprised by Luke suddenly dropping his head in her lap. She grinned, amused. "Hi, there."

"Hi. I want attention."

"Well, mom said she was just gonna make sure Carlos' room is clean enough for you to walk without getting impaled by a Lego brick but I'm sure she'd be happy to listen to your gibberish when she's all done."

"I want your attention."

"And I wanna watch the season finale."

Luke turned over to glance at the TV. "You've seen this episode at least six times. I know because five of them were at my house and youd already seen it once before that."

Julie flicked Luke's nose lightly. "It's my favourite, leave me be."

"Fine, but I'm staying here."

"Okay, just be quiet."

Luke felt like he had left the land of the living when he felt Julie's fingers in his hair. She had absolutely no idea what she was doing and somehow, the fact that she was playing with his hair on autopilot made him giddy.

"Can you put this on the table for me, please?" Julie asked absently, resting her empty glass on Luke's shoulder.

He did as she asked, just managing to reach the coffee table.

"Thank you."

Bored but unwilling to move, Luke began to pick at the threads on Julie's bracelets. She rested her hand on his chest, knowing he'd start whining if she took the bracelets away.

"Who made this one for you?"

Julie glanced at her arm to see Luke playing with a blue string, her name strung on in letter beads, a star bead on either side. "You did."

"Really?"

"I think we were about eight or nine. That was when Flynn got her bracelet set and we spent so many lunches making bracelets. You got jealous because I kept wearing Flynn's bracelets so you made one for me yourself."

"Huh," Luke said, "I don't remember, though."

"Not surprising. You were running a fever then, too. A pretty high one. Your mom gave you cough syrup and you got a burst of creative inspiration. Haven't you heard her tell the story? It's one of her favourites."

"I hear the words 'when Luke was little' and I instantly tune it out."

Julie laughed. "Sounds about right."

Luke watched the smile linger on Julie's face as she watched the episode she knew by heart. God, she was so pretty.

Luke scrunched his nose up again. Yeah, Julie was pretty and yeah, he'd always known that. But in the way he knew Flynn was beautiful and Carrie was stunning. In the way he knew Reggie was adorable and Bobby was cute and Alex was a gorgeous. In the way he knew Willie was magnificent. It was just something he'd always known. He and his friends were hot as hell and that was just a fact that they all seemed to know.

But laying with his head in Julie's lap, watching her unconsciously smile at his own antics, it seemed like a brand new thought. How could someone he'd known his whole life suddenly look different?

"Julie."

"Hm?" Julie didn't look away from the TV.

"You're really pretty."

"Thank you," she said, smiling wider. She lightly tugged a lock of his hair. "You're pretty, too."

"No, I mean, like, really pretty. Like . . . ultra pretty."

Julie scowled at Luke. "What did you do?"

"Nothing! I just . . . I just really like your smile. It's so. . ."

"Pretty?"

Luke nodded. He poked her cheek lightly. "I like when you smile."

"Yeah?" Even if she wanted to, she couldn't hold back a smile.

Luke smiled too. "Yeah."

Caught up with Luke's spontaneous declaration, Julie mised her favourite part of the episode -- the one where they finally had their first date. But Luke didn't.

"When we get better," he said slowly, "when we're not sick anymore . . . Do you think we could go out together? Maybe next weekend?"

Julie nodded. "Absolutely. Flynn already texted about rescheduling--"

"No. No, I mean . . . like a date. Just you and me."

"Oh," Julie said softly, eyes wide.

"Oh? Julie, 'oh' is what you say when you get socks for Christmas."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm just . . . surprised. I thought I worked out this crush thing and then here you are, asking me out and all I can think is that I wasted so much energy trying to stifle it all down when I could've just asked you out myself like two years ago."

Luke blinked up at Julie. "So, is that a yes or a no? I'm a little confused."

"Oh, only a little? Yes, you dork."

Luke suddenly yawned.

"Tired?"

"Only a little."

"Go to sleep," Julie said, using the same tone Rose had used on them both earlier.

Luke thought it was going to be pretty difficult to fall asleep when Julie was sitting there, threading her fingers through his hair like she had no idea how fast she made his heart beat. But it barely took him a minute before he was out completely. With a yawn of her own, Julie quickly followed.

Carrie snickered softly. "Quick!" she whispered. "They're waking up!"

"Okay!" Willie whispered back. "Okay, hold it up."

The bunch of them gathered behind the ridiculously large cardboard posted they'd thrown together the moment they arrived after the text from Rose.

Blinking tiredly, Julie and Luke sat up and took a few seconds to focus on the grinning faces in front of them.

"Congratulations!"

Julie and Luke both turned several shades redder (not by any fault of their ebbing fevers) as the group thrust the banner forward. It's about damn time.

"Shut up," Julie mumbled, retreating under her blanket to hide her face.

Luke scowled. "You could've said something!"

"Watching was funnier," Alex admitted.

As he did, the front door opened and in walked Ray. He took one look at the scene before him and groaned. "I can't believe I lost a full ten dollars."

"You bet on us?" Julie shrieked, throwing the blanket off.

"Well . . . yeah," Ray said, "your Tia is very persuasive."

Julie shrank back into the blanket, groaning in embarrassment.

Rose gasped. "Someone get Emily on the phone! She owes me five dollars!"

"Mom!"

But despite the embarrassment that was their family, Julie and Luke were very happy to have finally admitted their feelings -- to themselves and to each other.

Neither of them could wait for next weekend.

#request #julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #julie and the fat ones #jatp #julie molina #luke patterson #juke #jatp fic #jukebox #sickfic #jatp request

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thebluenoteblog · 4 years

Text

Rebound

Summary: You really didn't handle the break up well, that is after all, how you ended up in the bed of a member of the opposing team the night before a big game. What could possible go wrong (spoiler: a lot).

Player: Colton Parayko

Word Count: 2500

Warnings: Drunk one night stand and cursing.

***Tyler Seguin is sort of the bad guy in this fic. I have nothing against him. I’ve written many fics about him. I just wanted to play on a central devision rivalry and this is an old fic. At the time he was the only player on one of those teams that I knew enough about to write without having to google anything. I did not mean to offend anyone and I would like to clarify that this is just a story and I do not think that he would actually do this in real life.***

You tossed back yet another shot, knowing somewhere in the recesses of your fuzzy brain that you really shouldn’t. You should have stopped three drinks ago. You should have stopped the first time you almost fell off your barstool. The bartender should have cut you off. But none of that happened. Instead you pursed your lips at the burn in the back of your throat as the liquor ran down it for the umpteenth time that night.

Your phone was dead, and you had no idea how you were getting back to the hotel, at this point you didn’t care. It had been so long since you had seen Colton outside of work and you were broken. You couldn’t remember how to function. Going to work every day, taking pictures of the boys for the social media accounts, seeing him on the ice, on the plane, and not being able to touch him or talk to him… everyone knowing that things ended… you couldn’t do it anymore.

You were days away from checking yourself into the hospital. For your liver’s safety and your own. If you were in the hospital though, you lost all of your crutches, liquor and rebounds, and you couldn’t call Colton at five in the morning and pray that he would answer.

He usually did, because that was the kind of man that Colton was. He wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything important. Someday he would stop answering. That thought had you ordering another drink.

“Let me buy that for you?” A voice asked from behind you, you turned your head and stumbled a little. A hand reached out and steadied you, landing on your back. “Careful,” He laughed.

Bingo, you found a ride home. And a crutch for the night. He was cute. Tall. Not as tall as Colton by any meaning of the word, but that was good. You didn’t want that. He didn’t look anything like Colton. That was exactly what you needed. He looked oddly familiar, but you were too far gone to place it. “Sure,” you said.

“You aren’t from Dallas, are you?” He asked, taking in your faded blues t-shirt.

You shook your head as he sat down, and you closed your eyes, the motion making your head spin, “No, I’m from St. Louis. Just visiting for a couple days.” Your words were barely slurred, and you were surprised that you were stringing that many together coherently. You must be spending too much time drunk. Your poor liver.

The bartender delivered your shot and it was gone in a second. You made the same face you’d made before, he was smiling at you when you opened your eyes. He handed the bartender a card, “Cover her tab,” he said.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said, making a sound of protest.

He waved a hand, “Its nothing.”

“You underestimate how much I’ve had to drink,” you responded.

He shrugged, “Like I said, it’s nothing.”

The two of you talked for a little while, you avoided what you were doing in Dallas and he didn’t mention what he did for a living. Eventually, you said, “Do you want to get out of here?” your head was still fuzzy but you were starting to sober up a bit and you were pretty sure that you could walk by that point.

“Fuck yes,” he said, and he placed his hand on your back as he showed you to his car.

****************

You woke up the next morning to an alarm going off, naked, in the bed of a strange man. You snapped your eyes open and were immediately thankful that you were mostly immune to hangovers. You jerked up in bed and noticed the naked form of Tyler fucking Seguin lying next to you. This was a new low. Even for you. As the social media manager for the Blues, you couldn’t be hooking up with the Alternate captain of the Dallas Stars. It just wasn’t something that would fly if anyone found out.

Besides the fact that they were playing tonight, and you didn’t want to think about all the chirping that would occur if Seguin found out you were Colton’s ex-girlfriend. It was a nightmare waiting to happen. Thank god neither of them were fighters. Not that you would expect Colton to pick a fight over you after all of his insisting that he didn’t care about you, but it was a pride thing.

If everyone heard a guy say he fucked your girl the night before, and he was clearly serious, even if it was your ex-girl, you were all but contractually obligated to hit him. It was like in the unwritten rules of hockey.

You jumped out of bed and began gathering your clothes, praying that Seguin was a heavy sleeper and you would get out of the room before he woke up to the sound of the alarm. Unfortunately, that mission was a failure. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you back onto the bed. “No round two?” He asked, “No good morning kiss?”

You hesitated, then decided that this would be a good time to come as close to clean as you could without endangering lives. “I’m in Dallas because I’m the Blues social media manager. I was to drunk last night to realize who you were and now that I know, I can’t sleep with you in good conscience,” you paused as a look of understanding dawned on his face, “They would run me out of my office with torches and pitchforks if they found out.”

Seguin released you and backed up, “Jesus, I didn’t realize you were that drunk.”

You nodded as you pulled your shirt over your head, “Well, this was fun. Don’t mention it to anyone. And I mean anyone.”

“What, do you think they’ll fire you over it or something?” He asked, leaning back against his headboard, not seeming to care that he was barely covered by a thin sheet, “You’re a big girl. I’m sure they understand that you have needs.”

“And they expect me not to meet them with the opposing team the night before a big game on a road trip,” you said, covering your tracks, “I have to go, I’m supposed to get pictures of morning skate for the accounts.”

He shrugged, “Whatever you say.”

************

Colton had a shit night. He hadn’t slept worth a damn. He’d laid in bed and stared at his phone, waiting for your five am call that usually came but sometimes didn’t. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what happened on the nights that your calls didn’t come. He was always an emotional mess the next day, but he played his best. Big aggressive hits and hard shots that tore the net and shattered the glass. He’d accidentally hit Binner so hard in the mask with a puck one day at practice after you didn’t call that the poor guy had to sit out for a solid five minutes.

Today was bad though, because you were in Dallas, and what the fuck were you doing out in Dallas? Who were you with? Were you safe? All those thoughts raced through his head at twice the rate they normally did. You knew people back home. You had friends. He could convince himself that you were just busy with the girls. This was different.

He made his way down to morning skate and as all the guys entered the ice, he saw you standing at one of the Zamboni entrances. He was tempted to skate over to you and ask why you hadn’t called the previous night, but instead he just skated a circle around the rink, noticing when he did that you had a hickey on your neck. Mostly concealed by foundation and a jacket, something one would only notice if they were looking for it like he was. He ground his teeth on his mouth guard and focused his eyes forward.

***************

The puck dropped at seven o’clock and Seguin started a brawl at seven fifteen. It was between face-offs, they were just standing next to each other and he said, “So funny, I found out who runs your social media accounts.” He was met with a blank stare from Colton, so he continued, on a mission to throw the giant of a defensemen off his game. “Well anyway, I found her personal Instagram and it turns out the two of you used to be a couple!” He laughed “isn’t that funny? She hasn’t taken your pictures down yet, you know?”

By this point, they had started to draw a small crowd. The team knew how sensitive of a subject you were for Colton. If there was any way to get him to drop gloves, this just might be it. “Why is that funny?” Colton asked, going stiff. He thought back to the lack of a phone call and the hickey on your neck. No. You would never screw another hockey player. Not a Star. Not someone with a reputation like Seguin’s. You wouldn’t do that to him no matter how much he hurt you.

Still, the longer he stared down into Seguin’s eyes, the less he believed what he was telling himself.

“Well, it’s funny because I fucked her last night.” He said, a devious and amused look on his face.

Blood was pounding in Colton’s ears so loudly that he almost didn’t hear the next part of his statement.

“She’s a freak, but you already knew that didn’t you?”

A few things happened at once. First, the refs gave up on the face off upon hearing what Seguin said. Second, Colton threw his stick on the ground, shook off his gloves and pounced like a lion on a gazelle. He didn’t even wait for Seguin to drop his gloves first, though he did a second later, before the refs even made it over to break up the fight. All the stars were on Colton, trying to stop him and pull him off of Seguin who was definitely not a fighter and did not have size or anger on his side.

His teammates had his back though because they all grabbed a different guy and went to town. Within seconds they had a full-on line brawl and the refs were struggling to decide who to break up first. They both seemed slightly hesitant to mess with Colton who looked ready to murder and Seguin was now on the ice but still fighting back as much as he could when pinned to the ground. He was bleeding, his nose looked broken at the very least. Both refs grabbed a shoulder and pried Colton off of him.

Colton seemed to realize what he was doing and backed off. He stood up, raising to his full six-foot six height and looked over to where he knew you were standing, mouth agape and camera hanging limply by your side. He knew you would be pissed and confused. He hung his head, equally pissed at himself and skated off the ice, head hung, running a bloody knuckled hand through his hair as he headed straight to the locker room, leaving his equipment on the ice and not even waiting to be told that he was being called for a ten-minute misconduct. It was obvious. The trainers were already making their way to Seguin. Besides, his hands needed to be iced or they would be bruised too deep to move his fingers tomorrow.

****************

Colton was sitting on his couch staring at the wall, wondering how on earth he’d managed to avoid a suspension when he heard a knock on his door. He made his way across the house and pulled it open to revel you, standing out in the snow in nothing but a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. “Jesus (Y/N), you have to be freezing.” He said, pulling you inside and closing the door behind you.

You were shivering but he knew you would never admit to being cold. “I came to tell you you’re an idiot,” you said.

He paused and furrowed his bows. “You came all the way here to tell me that?”

“You got a game misconduct on your nearly pristine record because you let something some guy said about me get to you. You’re an idiot, you said, crossing your arms.

He pushed his lips together and took in a deep breath before responding, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t get suspended. Those refs went to bat for you. That and your reputation are the only thing that saved you.”

“I said I’m sorry okay!” He snapped, “It hurt!”

You looked taken aback, “What hurt?” You asked.

He sighed, “You being with someone else. It hurts. It hurts so fucking much.”

“You’re going to stand there and tell me you haven’t been with anyone in the last two months?” You asked him, your chin rising in defiance.

“Yes, (Y/N), because I can’t.” He said shaking his head. He took a step closer to you. All of the times that he’d wanted to touch you since the two of you had split crashing down on him and crushing his will power. “I still love you and it feels so wrong to look at anyone else.”

You sucked in a shaky breath, “You left me. You broke up with me.”

“It was the biggest mistake I ever made.” Colton said, finally bringing his hand up to rest on your cheek. “You don’t know how sorry I am.”

“What are you saying, Colt?” You asked, looking up into his eyes, ignoring the bruise on his jaw that made you unreasonably angry.

He swallowed roughly, “I’m asking you to forgive me (Y/N), I’m asking you to take me back.”

You blinked your eyes closed and a tear ran down your cheek. He swept it away with his large thumb. “I forgive you, Colt. I could never hold a grudge against you.”

“But?” He asked quietly.

“But… how will I ever trust that you won’t leave me again?”

He resisted the urge to pull you tight against him and press his lips against yours and prove to you in a thousand ways, just how dedicated he was to never leaving your side again. Instead he said, “Baby, if you take me back, I will do anything in the world to prove to you that I will never hurt you again. I’ll spend as much time with you as I can. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Anything. Just for you. Just please,” He said, dropping his head to meet your eyes as you opened them, “Give me another chance.”

You swallowed roughly and studied him. After a moment, you said, “You don’t have to take me anywhere. I just want you.”

This time, he didn’t stop himself. He pulled you into his arms and pressed his lips against yours, putting all the emotions that he had been suffering behind it.

#colton parayko #colton parayko imagine #Colton Parayko imagines #hockey imagines #nhl imagine

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beatricethecat2 · 4 years

Text

if/then (2.0) - 25

Sorry this has taken ages to finish, but I needed extra time to shape it into a form that made sense. Also, the world itself continues to astound in how absurd it’s being, so everything is taking it's time to make sense again (or not). Back to this chapter, there's a little review built in so I won’t bother with it here. Also, I’m excited to confidently say there is one more chapter of this (!) and then it’s done! One more big plot point to cover, and then they can finally be happy together. Thanks for still reading! And as always, typos are all mine, I’ll fix them later (edited 12/19). For previous chapters, look in my archive or on AO3 (look up beatricethecat) since Tumblr hates links these days. Also, more notes at the end.

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"I'm hungry," Christina says.

"Me, too," Myka agrees.

"I saw sandwiches in the lobby."

"We'll get some after we meet whoever's here."

Myka knocks on a door, one she assumes an undercover Interpol officer is waiting behind, at the hotel where Morgana dropped them off. Myka takes hold of Christina's hand as the peephole lifts and the handle clicks.

"Get in here!" a voice bellows as the door swings open.

"Aunt Claudia!" Christina yanks her hand free and runs in, nearly toppling Claudia over as she tackles her.

Claudia swings Christina around, spinning them further into the room.

Myka can hardly believe her eyes. A flutter of hope rises in her chest for the first time in ages.

Claudia lifts Christina's arms above her head and wiggles them. "You're all stretched out! What happened?"

"I grew a bunch!" Christina yelps, then giggles, the sound harkening back to their less fraught days in New York.

"Man, you got heavy, too," Claudia says, lifting Christina off the floor as she scoops her into another hug.

Myka drags their bags in and closes the door, watching from the entryway as Christina steps back and twirls for Claudia.

"What'd H.G. feed this kid?"

"Maybe it's the mountain air," Myka says.

"Huh. You were right?"

"Uh-huh. Nobody filled you in?"

"Negative. All Our Lady of Brevity said was to hightail it here."

"We’ve got so much to tell you." Myka says, stepping closer to Claudia, offering herself up for a hug that Claudia readily accepts. "I'm really, really glad you're here."

"Damnit, H.G.!" Claudia snarls quietly, so as not to wake a post-lunch, napping Christina. "All those years, right under my nose…" Her eyes go distant while processing Myka's revelations as if lost in transgressions of the past. "But getting deported on purpose? Dude, I just can't." She shakes her head and frowns.

"Be mad later, because we need to fix this, fast. She needs her mother back." Myka glances at Christina.

"Can't Babezilla wave a magic wand and tell the cops it's above their pay grade?"

"I already asked. She can't trust them. And if she outs herself, her whole operation might crumble."

"Who cares? We just want H.G. back."

"It could make things worse for us, because somehow that's possible," Myka says. "We want Helena cleared, so we need Morgana as an ally. Remember how well it went when we were on our own?"

Claudia's shoulders sag. "So, we're screwed either way."

"Not if we can prove Helena and I were caught in the crossfire of something larger."

"Ok!" Claudia claps hands together and rubs them back and forth. "How do we that?"

"I don't know."

"Let's lay out the facts," Claudia says, leaning back in her chair. "H.G. gets deported. Then Mrs. F. drops the bomb that you're being sacrificed to keep MacPherson in jail. H.G.'s forced to feed you info, but her hands are tied otherwise. So she calls the Ice Queen and is like, 'Bro, help me, Mrs. Frederic's being sketchy as hell.' They hatch a plan to smack Mrs. F on the knuckles and cross their fingers it will work."

"That's…weirdly accurate."

"If H.G. hadn't butted in, what would have happened?"

"According to Morgana, I'd be charged with collusion, and Theodora would be implicated as the instigator. She believes Mrs. Frederic's framing Theodora."

"Because Mrs. F. says she did it as a favor for Vanessa, who was doing a favor for Theodora, who made a back-door deal with MacPherson?"

"In theory, yes. That's what Mrs. Frederic would lead the police to believe."

"But I thought Mrs. F and Theodora were best buds? Why would she double-cross her?"

"To gain immunity and kill McPherson's appeal. She'll out him as the mastermind behind the sale. And who knows what other dirt she has on him."

"So H.G. fudged that up all kinds of ways," Claudia says, lowering her voice as Christina shifts under the covers. Her brows push together, wheels turning furiously in her head. "Where's Morgana getting all this?"

"Lots of little things. Plus, she's had a year to piece it together. And that woman in Mrs. Frederic's office, Sally, is still feeding her information."

"Info Mrs. Frederic's feeding her?"

"Maybe? Good point."

"You need to talk to her."

"Sally?"

"No. Mrs. Frederic."

"How?"

"We'll figure it out." Claudia taps her laptop awake and starts typing.

"Hang on. Let me call before you do something illegal. Maybe I can get an appointment."

"Ha! Good luck," Claudia says, eyes never leaving her screen, hacking away as Myka dials.

At 8:30 AM sharp, Myka knocks on the gallery's door, Claudia's "You can do this!" pep talk on repeat in her head. Her initial letdown of, "Mrs. Frederic's booked until the end of the month," was, quite unbelievably, overturned an hour later by a callback from her assistant. But by then, they were plotting to crash tomorrow's lunch, as Claudia had already stolen Mrs. Frederic's schedule.

A security guard lets her in, and she follows him to the elevator. Her hands twist together as they wait, dread seeping in over confronting such a formidable woman. But this is the only way to get answers, and her resolve is true. Coaxing information out of people, especially such worldly ones, is not her strong point.

The guard knocks on Mrs. Frederic's door twice, then opens it. He pulls it closed after Myka enters.

"Good morning," Mrs. Frederic says, remaining seated behind her desk. As always, she's impeccably dressed, her grey tweed jacket accented by a string of white pearls, hair braided in thin strands lifted into an elegant bun. It's like she wakes up fully prepped, ready to bulldoze anything and everything in her path.

"G-Good morning," Myka says back, as evenly as possible, her stomach quivering as she braces for the conversation she has to have.

"Please sit." Mrs. Frederic motions to a chair in front of her.

Myka bumps into the arm as she circles around, then settles in, flashing what she hopes is a not-too-nervous smile.

"I'll be frank," Mrs. Frederic starts. "I know why you're here. I can't help you."

"Then why ask me to come?"

"You needed to hear it in person."

"You got me into this! We had meetings and emails and phone calls. You sent me to the sale. You sent me to Helena's in Wales! There's a paper trail."

"Was my name listed anywhere?"

"I..." Myka thinks back, sifting through scores of information. "... don't know. But I'll prove it, somehow." Myka's lips pinch into a thin line, visualizing her resolve. She's gotten this far, and she's not leaving until she gets answers.

"Myka," Mrs. Frederic says, her tone softening ever so slightly. "You can't fix this. The sooner you accept that, the better. You must let it play out."

"So Helena and I both go to jail? What about her kid?"

"Helena was explicitly told not to get involved. That's out of my hands. This may have been over by now if not for her—"

"May have. May have. That's not good enough." Myka's chest heaves as her nostrils flare; this is a brush off of epic proportions. "Why ruin us both just to frame Theodora?"

"Theodora?" Mrs. Frederic's brows shoot up, above the rims of her cat-eye glasses.

"I know you're framing her, saying she's the one I was working for, not you. That the painting was hers."

"Ha!" Mrs. Frederic barks, lips curling up in amusement. "That's what you truly believe?"

"Tell me why I shouldn't," Myka growls, leaning back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, scowling.

Mrs. Frederic holds Myka's gaze, then sighs deeply, shaking her head as if Myka said something either right on the nose or completely fantastical.

"Then this is all on you," Myka asserts.

"Helena should have trusted me."

"Why should she? From what I've heard, you didn't protect her in New York."

"She knew the risks."

"Maybe. But I didn't. How is it ok to manipulate someone like that?"

"My hands were tied."

"Your hands were tied? By whom?"

Myka leans forward, her hands gripping the chair arms ever more tightly as Mrs. Frederic's stoic mask loosens.

"Please," Myka pleads, teetering on the edge of her seat. If she pushes, maybe Mrs. Frederic will open up.

Mrs. Frederic slides her chair back, then stands and turns, walking slowly toward a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows. She clasps her hands behind her back and gazes out at London's skyline, fixating on a point beyond the horizon. As seconds pass into minutes, Myka doesn't dare move or speak as Mrs. Frederic seems to be wrestling with an answer.

"I like you, Myka," Mrs. Frederic says. "Your earnestness is sorely lacking in this field. And contrary to what you may believe, I'm fond of Helena, too."

"Then help us."

Mrs. Frederic breathes in deeply and releases the breath slowly, eyes still focused on the skyline. "You must speak with Theodora," she says quietly, then looks over her shoulder, meeting Myka's eager gaze. "As soon as possible. And in person."

"Thank you." Myka's grip on the chair eases.

"And, Myka, be careful. You've no idea the power she holds. That's all I can say."

The hint of fear in Mrs. Frederic's voice suggests what Myka's up against, but at least she has somewhere to start. It's not particularly uplifting, nor what she expected, but it's more than she had when she walked in today. So maybe that's a win?

"This is one hot potato," Claudia says.

"That's one way to put it," Myka agrees, tapping on her laptop, looking up flights. "I have to go to Milan."

"Hang on. What if Mrs. Frederic's throwing you under the bus?"

"I’m already under the bus. And I'm not sure why, but I believe her."

"Let me talk to H.G. first. You call Morgana."

"I did, but she didn't pick up. She's probably at the police station being interviewed. I'll book a flight anyway."

Everyone startles as a phone rings, but it's neither Myka's nor Claudia's. Christina scrambles toward her luggage.

"It says 'Sondra,'" she says, holding it up for all to see.

"Answer it," Myka says.

"Hello?" Christina says, then listens. "Ok." She holds the phone out to Myka.

"Sondra?"

"Myka! Oh, it's bloody awful."

"What is?"

"Harry's place! It's a right mess, it is. I came to fetch the rabbit nosh and…and it's—" Sondra gasps. "Bastards!"

There's a rustling sound through the phone.

"What's wrong?"

"Christina's Mari Lwyd. It's ripped to shreds! Who would do that?"

"What's a…is anything missing?"

"I can't say. Let me take a gander."

To avoid a lengthy "Sondra" explanation, Myka scribbles "What's a Mary Lloyd?" on hotel stationery and slides it towards Christina.

Christina grabs Myka's pen and spells the word correctly, then makes a quick drawing on the pad. Myka raises a brow at the sketch. It looks like a Halloween costume.

"It's a Christmas thing," Christina says. "A horse skull on a stick with a sheet over it. It was really fun! We made it out of paper and went to people's houses, singing—"

"There's papers strewn about, but I can't say they knicked anything in particular," Sondra interrupts.

"They were looking through papers," Myka says, half to herself. Mrs. Frederic certainly moved quickly if she was looking for those instructions from Cardiff. Helena had them last, but what did she do with them? And what about the letters Christina told her Helena wrote? She hopes the intruders didn't stumble upon them during their search.

"Should I check the garage?" Sondra asks.

"Maybe later? In case those creeps are there now."

"Good call," Sondra says.

What's happening? Claudia scribbles on the pad.

Someone broke in to H.G.'s, Myka scribbles back.

"Do the doors still lock?" Myka asks.

"I reckon," Sondra replies.

"Then get out of there in case they come back."

"Shouldn't I call the police?"

Myka writes, Should she call the police?

Claudia shrugs. We'll ask H.G.

"We'll ask Hel—Harry first."

"You seen her?"

"Not yet. But she's ok."

"Charlotte alright?"

"She's fine. You want to talk to her?"

"Lovely, yeah. Put her on."

"Sondra wants to talk to you," Myka says to Christina.

Christina nods and takes the phone.

"Let's make a list for you to ask Helena," Myka says to Claudia, listening in as Christina answers Sondra with mostly yeses and noes. "Let's hope there's time to get through everything during visiting hours."

"Let's hope H.G. has a plan," Claudia quips.

The minute Myka switches off airplane mode, a text from Claudia pops up.

-You’re gonna kick ass. Good luck!

"Thanks!" Myka texts back, wishing she could agree. They'd stayed up late last night, devising a plan with Morgana, talking on Myka's burner phone. But during her two-hour flight, instead of honing their list of questions, Helena's voice filled her mind.

Helena revealed, during visiting hours, the document from Cardiff was stowed in her suitcase. As they dug through, they found several secret compartments, one with cash, another with new aliases plus travel documents for Helena and Christina. But the document-in-question remained elusive until Claudia tugged on an out of place stitch in the lower lining. Its release revealed a stash of papers stuffed under the plastic shell. The upper lining revealed even more than Myka could have imagined.

Mixed in with the deeds to Helena's house and Harry's garage were the letters Christina had spoken about, the ones Helena had written but could never send. Myka's heart froze at the sight, then pounded wildly as she ripped them open.

She'd barely made a dent in the dense texts when Claudia whisked them away, saying it wasn't safe to keep them on hand since Helena's break-in. She skimmed as many as possible, pushing Claudia away twice as she tried to gather them together. Helena's words vacillated between the mundane in Llangynidr and her extraordinary past. There, laid out in exquisite detail, were her days in London, her time at Stanford, bringing up Christina, and her entanglement with Morgana, Mrs. Frederic, and MacPherson. She felt drunk on information, as if the stories were shots she was downing in rapid succession.

On the plane, it occurred to her the letters read like confessions; Helena laying out her life as if she'd never be allowed to speak of it again. She teared up, as Helena and Christina disappearing forever was not an option. She could never move on if she didn't know they were safe. But once the plane landed, she shook off the feeling and made a concerted effort to focus on the present.

She checks in early at her hotel and changes out of her wrinkled clothes, wanting to look and feel at the top of her game. A few steps from Theodora's door, she stops to neaten her skirt, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. She'd memorized the questions they came up with, but there is no harm in running through them again.

She tugs at her collar, nerves overheating her already, though when she checked, the weather's on the chilly side of spring. Straightening her spine and squaring her shoulders, she enters the gallery lobby. This may be her only chance to save herself and Helena, so she better not blow it.

The room looks exactly as it did the last time she was there; a few new paintings, but overall, it's as if time hasn't passed. She walks up to the front desk, which is currently unoccupied, and waits for someone to appear.

"Hello?" she says, a little louder than usual.

"Scusa!" a woman says, scuttling out from the back. Probably in her twenties, with long brown hair, wearing a white blouse and grey skirt, she's the usual kind of generic, attractive front desk person. She looks Myka over then switches to English.

"How can I help you?"

"I need to speak with Theodora," Myka says.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but we've worked together. She knows me."

"Un momento." The woman holds up a finger and dials a number on her desk phone. "Your name?" she asks as it rings.

"Myka Bering."

The woman speaks in Italian to whoever is on the phone, but Myka gets the gist of the conversation.

"She will see you at the usual place."

"I know it, thanks."

Myka makes a hasty exit and walks a few blocks to the restaurant. She hadn't planned on meeting Theodora in public, so she'll need to adjust. If she can't speak freely, that throws a wrench in her plan.

She tells the hostess who she's looking for and is directed to Theodora's table, which is, thankfully, in a secluded back corner. To the untrained eye, Theodora looks like an unassuming European tourist in her sixties, having left her vacation home to enjoy authentic Milanese dining.

"Myka Bering!" Theodora says, smiling as she rises. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" She greets Myka with a customary kiss on both cheeks.

Myka lips pinch, then lift into an awkward smile. "I, um, was in town, and I thought I'd stop by," she chirps, hoping that sounded more plausible than it felt. She does have a cover story, but it's weak, so she braces for reciting further lies.

"Excellent!" Theodora says, waving a server over as she sits. "How's your new job been treating you?"

"Very well, actually," Myka answers. Because it was before she went AWOL.

The server hands Myka a menu.

“Portaci una bottiglia di questo,” Theodora orders, lifting her wine glass towards the server.

"Oh, no, please, just a latte for me," Myka appeals, understanding Theodora's request was for an entire bottle of wine.

Theodora raises a brow but doesn't argue. "As you wish. Solo un caffè latte, allora," she says to the server.

He nods and walks away.

"Lunch is on me. Anything you choose. But I will say, they've switched to michetta for their sandwiches, and it's absolutely delectable."

"Um, thanks. I'll look this over," Myka says, reading the menu, but the words blend together on the page.

"We were sad to lose you from our team," Theodora says. "But that mess with Irene and Helena…" She shakes her head. "I can see why you'd want a fresh start."

"Can we talk about that?" Myka blurts, setting down her menu.

Theodora tilts her head as if taken off guard. "All right."

"Thank you," Myka says as the server delivers her latte.

He hovers, waiting for further instruction.

"I'll, um, order later," Myka says.

He nods again and takes his leave.

"I need your help," Myka says, once the server's out of earshot. She might as well come out with it as there's no time to be sent in circles.

"What can I do for you," Theodora answers, reclining in her seat and sipping her wine.

"I-I know what your plan was, for me, back then. And I know what's happening now."

"Oh?" Theodora cocks a brow. "Perhaps you might fill me in, then, as I'm not familiar with what you're referencing."

Myka steels herself. Time to pull out all the stops.

"You needed me to go down for the stolen painting so you'd be implicated as well. But Helena messed that up. Once you found her, you put me back in play."

This theory was a gamble, but after factoring in Mrs. Frederic's information, she, Claudia, and Morgana all agreed it was the right angle to take.

"Irene sent you to that sale, not me. I wasn't aware you were 'back in play,' whatever that means."

A tinge of annoyance colors Theodora's tone, but her calm facade stays in place. Morgana said it wouldn't be easy to rattle her. Time to lay out the facts and see if she'll bite.

"Someone sent me to Helena's house where she and her daughter were in witness protection. Now her cover's blown, and she's in police custody. Her daughter's beside herself with grief."

This isn't strictly true; Myka's pushing Theodora's sense-of-family buttons. Christina clung to Helena before leaving the precinct yesterday, but according to Claudia, she's holding up well otherwise.

"Irene told her to keep her distance. I told you to as well."

"Wait." Myka narrows her eyes. "How did you know Mrs. Frederic told Helena to stay out of it?"

"She asks me for advice from time to time," Theodora says, siping her wine then looking away.

"Then you know the police will bring me back in for questioning. And if I'm convicted, Christina will be left all on her own."

"Poor girl," Theodora says, her concern ringing hollow. "I still don't see what this has to do with me. This is Irene, clearing her name."

"No. If this is about bringing MacPherson down, it'd be better for Mrs. Frederic if Helena stayed hidden. Opening up that investigation diminishes the worth of her testimony, if she's even able to testify at all."

"Then, James is surely responsible."

"Why would he rock the boat when, as I've heard, his appeal's already swung in his favor?"

"He's a petty man."

"Petty, but not stupid. He's an opportunist. He grabbed Helena, got the real painting, then tossed her aside. Someone else found her and turned her in."

"And you think that person's me," Theodora snips.

"Tell me I'm wrong."

"Seems like an awful lot of fuss, for what?"

"You're not as happy here as you lead people to believe, with your modest gallery and quiet life. I'm told you were quite the powerhouse, once. That Mrs. Frederic and MacPherson were under your thumb."

Last night, Morgana detailed Theodora's complicated relationship with Mrs. Frederic and MacPherson. She promised this line would strike a nerve if Myka employed it at the right time.

"And yet, you hadn't heard of me until Mrs. Frederic sent you my way."

"I'm sorry. I hadn't."

"There's a reason for that." Theodora motions to the waiter for more wine then points with her chin at Myka's coffee. "Drink up, child, before it gets cold."

Myka takes a sip. It's already tepid.

The server returns and pours Theodora a generous portion. "Grazie, Paolo," she says.

He nods and walks away.

Theodora swirls the liquid and takes a sip, then looks off to the side, into the distance.

Myka's patience wears thin as the pause stretches out, but she waits for Theodora to continue. This is the tipping point; if she pushes, Theodora might shut her out entirely. She drinks her drink and shifts in her chair, willing herself to hold her tongue.

"I was well established by the time those two rose up in the ranks," Theodora starts. "They pursed me, asking to work together, as I'd lend them an air of legitimacy. I found them both promising, so I took them under my wing, nurtured them. Then, when my Henry took a turn for the worst, they grabbed all I had and ran."

Myka opens her mouth to say, "I'm sorry," but Theodora continues first.

"Oh, they'll say they were helping me, following up on leads, taking clients off my hands. But when I was strong enough to step back in, they cut me off, fenced me in here. By then, they were locked in their little game of good versus evil. There was no room for anyone else."

"So, you want back in."

“I want control. Their childish games must stop. They've become graceless. Barbaric. It's shameful." Theodora's words edge towards a sneer.

"So this is personal," Myka mumbles, mind busy cataloging this revelation, conjuring up information to negotiate now the motive's shifted to revenge.

"Finding the Amber Room was Henry's obsession. His great-great-grandfather was one of the craftsmen. Those two stole his notes and passed them off as their own. He was so close right before he..." Theodora breathes a shaky breath as if anger and grief strike her all at once. "I had no idea they found it until that damn sale."

"But that was MacPherson—"

"No!" Theodora slams her palm on the table. "They found it together. Then McPherson stole it from Irene."

Myka flinches at the gesture but sees an opportunity to draw Theodora out further. "Why didn't you go to the police instead of gambling on this elaborate plan?"

"The minute I opened my mouth, those two would cover it up. And without proof, who would believe me? I had to get my foot in the door first."

"So you used Mrs. Frederic as a front and me as your 'foot in the door.' And when I go down, so do you. But why do you want to be arrested?"

"I see this is not your strong suit," Theodora says, the pity in her eyes clear at Myka's naiveté. "I'll give you a minute to figure it out. You might learn something useful."

Myka thinks. Theodora's been left powerless. No one takes her seriously, including the police.

"What you say while in custody is confidential. You could tell the police anything, and Mrs. Frederic and MacPherson won't know until they're being investigated."

"Leverage," Theodora sneers. "Their little moles won't have time to warn them what's coming. They'll duke it out to prove who's more loyal to me, who's willing to do whatever it takes to bail me out. I'll ruin them otherwise."

Myka's stomach turns. This power grab is pathetic. "So, Helena and I suffer for your vendetta?"

"Helena did this to herself."

"Helena did this to save me."

"That's not my problem."

"You once said family mattered more than anything, but you'd do this to someone's mother?"

"This is on her. Irene told her to stay out of it—"

"Do you know how we met?"

Theodora opens her mouth to answer but Myka cuts her off.

"Of course you do. You know everything. You picked me because I had nothing to lose. Nothing more to lose. I was exactly who you were looking for."

Theodora looks on without a shred of sympathy. Myka's scowl deepens.

"Helena taking me in, us falling in love…you couldn't have predicted that. But you gain nothing by condemning her and her child to this limbo. So why go through with it?"

"If she'd only done what she was told—"

"Look." Myka sets her jaw and leans forward, glowering. "I'll do whatever you want if you get her off the hook. I know you can." She fixes Theodora with a stern eye.

Theodora's lips rise, slowly, at the ends, until the wrinkles around her eyes deepen into chasms. Her smile is cold, her gaze, calculating, as if Myka just made a deal with the devil. "Come by the gallery tomorrow afternoon. I make no promises, but I'll see what I can do."

"I'll be there," Myka says, holding onto Theodora's eyes as she casually sips her wine again. Is that it? Did she get what she came for? She can't think of anything else to say. She gulps her cold latte down and takes her leave, mind spinning in an anxious haze.

"Why'd you do that?" Claudia snaps, over the phone, later that evening.

"It just came out," Myka says, slumping back in an armchair at her hotel.

"H.G.'s going to be pissed!"

"I know. But she needs to be with Christina. Maybe Morgana can help?" Myka's words quiet as she sinks further down in her chair, the weight of what she's offered, going through with Theodora's original plan, hitting her full force. She already lost most of her life in the fire, and here she is, losing it again. She doesn't deserve this. Why has the universe turned against her?

“Dude, we’re gonna all help.”

"What if Theodora can't do it. What if we're both still screwed?"

"Stay positive!"

"What if that's not good enough?"

"We'll figure it out. And get you both out, if we have to. You know I'm here for the long haul. Christina won't be alone."

"Thank you. For everything. For always being there."

The sinking feeling in Myka's chest has hit the bottom of her gut. Tears should fall, but instead, a numbness swallows up her fear. This wasn't her fault, but she can't help feeling her karma's summoned up the worst. That the shock waves from the gas explosion caused a ripple effect, shoving her life, then Helena's, then Claudia's, then Morgana's off-kilter. And the only way to fix it is to start over again and follow the prescribed trajectory. If she's lucky, she accomplished this today, and the chain-link reaction will be severed.

The next day, Myka wanders from cafe to cafe, scenic vista to scenic vista, occupying her restless body with movement until afternoon arrives. When it does, she marches briskly into Theodora's gallery and up to the desk, where the same woman from yesterday sits.

"I'm here to see Theodora."

The woman's impassive gaze suggests they hadn't already met. "Signora Stanton is unavailable."

"But she told me to meet her here this afternoon!"

"She's on holiday. You can leave a message."

"I…I'll call her." Myka scrolls through her numbers and taps on Theodora's. She gets a message that the number's no longer in service.

"Give me her number," Myka growls.

"I can pass on a message—"

"Give me her number!" Myka slaps her palms on the desk and leans forward.

The woman scoots back in her chair, then stands. "I must ask you to leave."

"I won't leave until I speak to Theodora."

"She's not here."

"She has to be!" Myka steps around the desk towards Theodora's office. The woman blocks her, but Myka shuffles around and makes a beeline to the back of the building.

"You can't go in there!" the woman yelps, scuttling behind.

"Theodora! You said you'd have an answer!" Myka yells, stalking through the gallery storage area, directly into Theodora's office. When she steps inside, no one is present.

"I'm calling the polizia!" the woman says, turning on a heel and picking up a phone on a nearby table.

Myka circles behind Theodora's desk and plops down in her chair. As she's shuffling through papers, her phone rings.

"H.G.'s out!" Claudia chants from the other end. "Well, almost. And with restrictions, but she can go home for now. Home to Wales, Not new York, but...amazeballs, right? What'd you do?"

"I, oh...hang on, I have another call," Myka says as her line beeps. She doesn't recognize the number, but she taps accept anyway. This better be Theodora explaining what's going on.

"Myka Bering?" a woman's voice asks, a British one that's clearly not Theodora's.

"Yes."

"This is DI Stuart, London Police. I have some questions regarding the sale you were involved in a year ago. Do you have a moment? It's rather urgent."

"I'm…" Relieved Helena's out. Scared at what happens next. About to be arrested for trespassing... Myka stands and walks out of the room, raising a hand in surrender at the scowling assistant. Time to flip that switch and turn back into the naive woman she once was. "I'm happy to help, Detective. Just give me second to get off the other line."

-TBC-

NOTE: I just wanted to say, I know this twist could have been set up better in earlier chapters. But in my defense, I didn’t know it was going to go down this way back then. As I was writing this, I decided I didn’t want Mrs. Frederic to be the bad guy. At least not entirely. Because characters are more rich if they’re not painted in black and white. I also decided the whole scheme shouldn’t be (entirely) about bringing MacPherson’s downfall. It seemed too obvious and why not add some complexity to it if I could pull it off? That’s more exciting for all of us in the long run. Were I to go back in time, I’d add a little more personal interaction between Mrs. F and Myka and maybe a few more clues here and there about Theodora’s (non)-loyalties. Though, when I went back and read Myka’s interaction with Theodora, I did sort of set this up a tad without knowing it. I hope this rings true for you, as I’m sort of proud of parsing it out. Feel free to let me know! I can’t believe I’ve almost finished this! So crazy it’s been in my consciousness for half a decade.

#BERING AND WELLS #w13 #fan fiction #Myka Bering #Helena HG Wells #Claudia Donovan #now I have to write my syllabus #for a class I do not want to teach online #plus I'll get back to Emily Lake soon too!#but phew - I managed to finish this #small miracles...

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catthecoder · 4 years

Text

tag game - get to know me

tagged by the awesome @orangenfrottee - thank you, i haven’t done one of these in ages and these questions sound like so much fun! 💕

1. what is the color of your hairbrush? it’s grey on the back with black handle

2. name a food you never eat - hmm, i used to be such a picky eater but i recently slowly started eating a lot of food i used to despise... if you asked me a few months ago, i could write up a rather long list, but right now? the only thing that comes to mind are picked cucumbers 😬

3. are you typically too warm or too cold? too cold, 100%. somehow, my body stays cold even when it is like 30 degrees, which is hella weird.

4. what were you doing 45 minutes ago? eating lunch! i made bagels with ricotta, ham, cheese, egg and avocado and i had a couple of baby cucumbers along with it (mind you, not pickled ones) and it was super delicious.

5. what’s your favorite candy bar? i think twix is my favourite? or perhaps this slovak bar called ‘horalky’, which is basically wafers with peanut filling and sides dipped in chocolate... god, now i want one so desperately.

6. have you ever been to a professional sports game? i used to watch hockey a lot and i’ve been to a couple of games.

7. what is the last thing you said out loud? huh, i think it was my order when i went for coffee a couple of hours ago? (i got a latte and a piece of apple crumble cake, in case anybody’s wondering)

8. what is your favorite ice cream? i could eat ben&jerry every day, so it’s probably their ‘half baked’ or ‘phish food’. also, i’d die for a good mango sorbet.

9. what was the last thing you had to drink? plain old water

10. do you like your wallet? i like how small and practical it is..... i’m trying to recall the last time i actually took it out of my backpack and i’m coming very short.

11. what is the last thing you ate? the bagels from question 4!

12. did you buy any new clothes last weekend? i bought a pair of new masks last thursday and they arrived on monday - does that count?

13. what’s the last sporting event you watched? haha, does the bake off count as a sporting event? if not, i think it would be some skiing competitions (slalom) last winter - my parents follow them rather closely and it kind of rubs off on me when i’m home with them.

14. what is your favorite flavor of popcorn? salty mixed with sweet!

15. who is the last person you sent a text message to? my boyfriend.

16. ever been camping? does setting up a tent in friend’s backyard and sleeping there count? if so, then yes.

17. do you take vitamins? not really... i sometimes take c during autumn for immunity, but i haven’t bought any this year so far... oh, i am taking probiotics right now, though i’m not sure whether that counts as vitamins.

18. do you regularly attend a place of worship? no.

19. do you have a tan? no, if i try to tan, i just turn pink (or red). though i’m pretty sure my skin is marginally lighter underneath where i wear my watch.

20. do you prefer Chinese or pizza? if going out, pizza; if i’m cooking, chinese.

21. do you drink your soda through a straw? if there’s ice in it, then yes; otherwise, i tend to skip the straw.

22. what color socks do you usually wear? black or white.

23. do you ever drive above the speed limit? gonna be honest and say yes. not by crazy amounts or anything like that, but if i know the road and i can see quite far around and ahead, i will go 10ish% above the limit easily. not gonna lie, it’s especially easy on highways (though i nearly got fined last time i drove, so who knows how i’ll feel about it the next i’ll sit behind the wheel)

24. what terrifies you? haha, like i’m going to share that.

25. look to your left, what do you see? a shelf with alcohol bottles, glasses that don’t fit into our kitchen cabinet, an assortment of cameras and other photography equipment and a scanner. oh, and a window.

26. what chore do you hate most? taking out our organic waste bin - it starts smelling very bad very quickly plus the bin for it downstairs hadn’t been taken out in a very long time and it’s always covered by fruit flies and smells veeeery bad and i’m feeling yucky just thinking about it.

27. what do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? i think - hah, that person is australian, how cool.

28. what’s your favorite soda? i love san pellegrino. limonata is my go to, but i recently had lemon & mint and my god, that one is amazing.

29. do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? i go in, even if i drove there - i don’t like eating in my car.

30. what’s your favorite number? i’ve always had a special connection to number three, so let’s go with that.

31. who’s the last person you talked to? depends on what you mean by talked to - actually spoke to, with my voice? the bartender at my favourite coffee shop. had a meaningful conversation? probably with a customer service employee who’s helping me resolve an issue. just chatted to, without much of a point? my boyfriend.

32. favorite meat? hmm, probably ham?

33. last song you listened to? i’m currently listening to ‘cigarette daydreams’ by ‘cage the elephant’, though that’s going to change in a minute and half.

34. last book you read? ‘renegades’ by marissa meyer! it was so. good! i started the second book, ‘archnemesis’ yesterday and i’m even more in love. 100% recommend if you’re into superhero stories with secret identities and enemies-to-friends(-to-lovers). such an amazing series.

35. favorite day of the week? what even are days?

36. can you say the alphabet backwards? only crazy people can.

37. how do you like your coffee? oat latte with a bit of honey.

38. favorite pair of shoes? i own way too many shoes to be able to pick a single favourite pair.

39. time you normally get up? between 8:30 and 9:00.

40. what do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? sunsets.

41. how many blankets are on your bed? none. there is one on the couch though.

42. describe your kitchen plates? we found this kitchen set in tesco after eating from paper plates for at least a week after moving in - there are four bowls, four small plates and four big plates (a year layer, we found two extra big bowls matching our set) - the bowls are grey from outside and white on the inside; the small plates are grey on the top and white on the bottom and the big plates are white on top and grey on bottom.

43. describe your kitchen at the moment: very small - a third of it is a stove (with two heating pads? circles? whatever), another third is a sink and the last third is workspace with a small shelf for spices, cutlery etc, and a cutting board and knives stand. most of the workspace is taken up by a cutting board i used to cut avocado and cucumbers for lunch and there is a tiny pan (and i mean really tiny, like one egg sized) leftover on the stove. i’m probably going to do the dishes after i finish answering these.

44. do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? i’m not that picky, i’ll drink almost anything. i think i prefer fruity drinks though - i really like french martini or sex on the beach.

45. do you play cards? we used to play cards a lot with my parents and sister (and grandparents as well) - i love playing canasta, but you need four people for that, so i haven’t actually played in months... we also played a lot of joker and i taught my boyfriend to play this summer (not that he didn’t know how to play, he just wasn’t particularly good)... and we also play poker with a couple of our friends here from time to time

46. what color is your car? this is going to sound so bad, but i am actual not sure? we ended up finding quite a good deal on a car we wanted to get after uni, so we bought it - however, it is back in slovakia and both me and my boyfriend are stuck in uk right now. it’s either black or very dark blue, but for the love of my life, i can’t remember and the photos i found weren’t helpful at. all. (if it weren’t for covid, i’d be able to answer this question a lot better). oh, and the car i had before (my mom’s old car) is red.

47. can you change a tire? i like to think i’d be able to (after enough googling and youtube videos), but if there was somebody else with me, i’d gladly let them do it.

48. your favorite state or province? like in usa or what? i guess new york.

49. favorite job you’ve had? i don’t think i’ve particularly enjoyed any of the jobs i had so far - if i had to pick, i’d say working in an ice-cream shop, because if there is one thing that could make work during a very hot summer even slightly bearable, it’s the fact that every so often, you can nibble on a bit of an ice-cream.

i’m tagging @stonerbughead @strangenightsofdaydreams and @i-know-you-can - i know there is like 50 questions and that’s a lot, but they were actually a lot of fun?

#tag game #i haven't done one of these in so long #and i really enjoyed most of these questions!

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sachigram · 4 years

Text

Decorticate and Dehiscence

((click here to read on ao3!!))

There's an entire language spoken with only flowers. Shizuo doesn't understand it, but he's curious now that he's been exposed. Before Ami, he never once thought about what flowers could represent aside from a present between couples, or something pretty to look at on a walk.

Ami told him his flower was a gladiolus once, and then she'd smiled in such a sincere way, and Shizuo found himself looking up what the hell that could possibly mean. “Strength of character, faithfulness, and honor.” Yeah, Shizuo doesn't think that's the least bit accurate, and Ami is no longer a part of his life, or ever really was at all, but he does have her to think for teaching him to look for hidden meanings.

When Izaya went to Ami and confronted her, he came back with marigolds. Shizuo almost didn't think anything of it, because Izaya can be very distracting, but eventually he looked up what marigolds could mean, too. “Passion and creativity” was his first result, but underneath, a hidden meaning. “Cruelty, grief, and jealousy.” Izaya only laughed it off and said he bought the first flowers he could find. Shizuo knew better than to believe him.

Shizuo is aware he isn't the smartest person in the world, a fact of which Izaya always reminds him of, but Shizuo is instinctual, and he thinks being the latter is better for him in reading someone like Izaya. Being smart like Izaya would only result in the two of them always speaking in riddles and lies. Instead, Shizuo has the power to see through Izaya's lies, and Shizuo doesn't give a fuck about riddles enough to even attempt to solve them in the first place. Shizuo likes to think he keeps Izaya in check, but at the same time, the darkness in Izaya's eyes or the sharpest glint of his smile will have Shizuo knowing he's as powerless in stopping Izaya as Izaya is in stopping Shizuo.

They're the most dangerous men in the city for a reason, after all.

Still, Shizuo can brush off every warning from his friends and even his own pinpricks of intuition when Izaya is under him, next to him, opening for Shizuo's cock and demanding more and more. Bad things are still happening in the city, just like they always are, and likely always will be, and even knowing Izaya is involved in it somewhere doesn't bother Shizuo like it used to. Something inside him has steadily been growing more and more, unraveling and tangling and festering in his soul in a way that can only be associated with Izaya.

Shizuo knows he loves Izaya. Shizuo loves Izaya so much that it blinds him, fools him, keeps him wrapped in the cocoon of contentment that Izaya made for them both. And underneath it all, Shizuo knows Izaya loves him, too. Izaya admitted as much when he said he would do anything, anything to keep Shizuo with him.

Sometimes Shizuo wonders if Izaya would have killed Ami, had she not heeded the warning and left Shizuo alone. The thought makes him sick to his stomach, especially because he thinks...maybe Izaya would have. No, he knows Izaya would have. Maybe not directly, maybe not himself, but she would have been removed from the picture entirely, one way or another, and Shizuo feels even sicker to know he still wouldn't be able to stay away from Izaya after something like that had happened.

When Shizuo arrives at Izaya's place, he can tell immediately Izaya isn't there. It's more than the lack of Izaya's coat and shoes— It's a lack of presence. Izaya is an electric energy in the air, one that can't possibly be ignored. Likely, Izaya is off wreaking havoc somewhere. Shizuo frowns at the thought, but he still kicks his shoes off and goes about his usual routine instead of going off to find Izaya and stop whatever it is he's doing.

He's only just gotten out of the shower when he senses Izaya's returned. Shizuo hurries and dresses, eager to see Izaya, as he always is. He'd never say it to Izaya, of course, but Shizuo doesn't feel at home until Izaya is next to him, within reach.

“Shizu-chan,” Izaya purrs, holding up a bag as he hangs his coat up. “I got dinner. I hope you weren't waiting long for me.”

“I only just got back,” Shizuo says, crossing the room and pulling Izaya to him, yanking him into a bruising, hungry kiss. Like this, it's almost easy to piece together Izaya's day. Shizuo can smell it on him, the different parts of the city. He knows no one else has touched Izaya today, not even brushing against him in passing. Izaya smells only of himself, and of Shizuo, like he always does. Shizuo growls lowly, knowing in his heart this means Izaya was safe all day, but more than that, others weren't likely safe from Izaya, who does his work in the shadows.

“Are you and your nose eavesdropping on me again?” Izaya asks, one of his hands on Shizuo's cheek. “You could just ask what I've been up to.”

“You're a liar,” Shizuo says easily. “I can't ask you anything.”

“How cruel of you. I always tell you the truth.”

“No, you tell me some bullshit version of the truth. There's a difference.”

“If it's deep-seated in the truth, then it's truth all the same,” Izaya says, pulling back from Shizuo and licking his lips. “You're only trying to smell other people on me. Making sure I'm staying faithful to you?”

“Of course,” Shizuo says, snatching up the bag to see what Izaya brought home. “Everyone knows you're mine.”

“Mm,” Izaya hums, looking pleased. “But some people have a death wish all the same.”

Shizuo tears into the bag, happy to see a steak for himself. He never told Izaya how he likes his steak cooked, but of course it's right. Sometimes he wonders just how long Izaya has been studying him, wonders if it was even before Shinra introduced them. He's long since decided he doesn't want to know the answer.

Izaya has a salad for himself, topped with seared tuna that's not cooked through. He sits next to Shizuo, sipping from a glass of expensive red wine. Shizuo thinks to himself this takeout was likely pricey as well, as the name on the bag is from a place he doesn't recognize.

“So,” Izaya says pleasantly, “how was your day, Shizu-chan?”

Shizuo snorts. Izaya making small talk with him over dinner is as surreal as anything else they do together that isn't destroying the city or fucking, but it's always welcomed, because Shizuo loves to hear Izaya talk. Another thing he'd never admit to.

“It was the same as every day. Tom-san let me go a little early, though. He said he had some personal things to sort out.” Shizuo reaches over and takes Izaya's wine glass, trying a small sip. He doesn't like wine really, but he likes to share with Izaya, who always lets him.

“Personal things. Hmmm. Maybe a lucky lady.” Izaya rests his chin in his hand, observes Shizuo. “Speaking of luck, what has your little inner circle been saying about your increased time here? Have you told them about me?”

“They don't like you. You know that.”

“I do. In all honesty, they have good reasons, don't they? But here you are.” Izaya spears a big piece of lettuce, nibbles at it almost thoughtfully before he continues. “I'm honored, Shizu-chan, that you would choose me over the opinions of your friends.”

“Shut up. It's not like that. You're just—“ You. He wishes he had more articulate ways to express what he's thinking, but it's almost impossible for him to do so with words. “I like being here,” he says instead. “I like being here with you.”

“I like you being here with me.” Izaya's words seem to be sincere, and the way he's looking at Shizuo is nothing short of loving.

Shizuo blushes, looks down at his dinner. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“What do your...uh. Friends say about me?” He pauses. “Do you have friends?”

Izaya doesn't even look offended. It's actually hard to offend Izaya, unlike Shizuo, who gets angry at everything. Izaya seems immune to most insults, and the only way Shizuo has found to actually hurt him has been to imply someone else's importance is above Izaya's own.

“Just Shinra, who likes you only a little less than me.” Izaya smiles, takes another sip of wine. “You're far more popular than I am.”

“You could have friends,” Shizuo says, trying to imagine it. Izaya has always been around people, but then... Shizuo doesn't think he's seen Izaya interact in a way that wasn't antagonistic.

“I probably could, but I don't want them.” Izaya's gaze sharpens, bores into Shizuo's. “I only want you.”

“Only me? Won't you get bored?”

“No. You never bore me, even when you're not doing anything at all. Even when you're only sleeping. I always only want you.”

Izaya has a tendency to go from saying the most mundane, simple things to saying something that knocks Shizuo sideways, either from intensity or audacity—usually both. Izaya doesn't speak often of feelings, and the two of them haven't even worked out what they are to each other, but it's easy not to be worried about such things when Izaya is watching Shizuo playfully from over the rim of a wine glass, smirk on his face because he knows exactly what Shizuo is thinking about.

“And how did you want me, Izaya?” Shizuo asks, eyes locked on Izaya's throat bobbing as he swallows the last of the wine.

“You know exactly how.”

Shizuo sets his utensils down, not hungry anymore, not for food, at least. He craves Izaya as much as always does, more and more, no matter how many times he's had him. He stands, leaning over Izaya in his chair, tangling his hand in Izaya's hair as he yanks Izaya into another kiss.

“Were you done?” Izaya asks softly. He motions to the counter. “I brought you dessert.”

“You're dessert,” Shizuo says, lifting Izaya into his arms and carrying him up the stairs to the bedroom. They've had sex all over the apartment by this point, but Shizuo still likes it best in Izaya's bed, in those expensive as shit sheets with Izaya underneath him, perfect hands clenched in the silky smooth fabric.

Undressing Izaya never loses its luster. Izaya is gorgeous, and he always allows Shizuo to go as slowly or as quickly as he likes. Shizuo can get lost in just looking at Izaya's body. He's never found anything so beautiful before, has also never wanted to mark and bruise anything so badly in his entire life. He's wondered if it was leftover aggression from their past, but lately he's been thinking it's because Izaya is his. Only his. And everyone should fucking know it.

“I've been thinking,” Izaya says as Shizuo lays him out on the mattress, fully bared and spread out. He hisses when Shizuo's tongue swirls around his nipple. “How many times in a row do you think you can fuck me?”

“Huh?” Shizuo asks stupidly, lifting his head from where it was buried in Izaya's chest. He wipes drool off his chin. “What's the normal amount?”

“Less than you can give me, I'm sure.” Izaya arches under him, capturing Shizuo's attention once more with his body. “You're a monster, after all. If your sexual stamina can match your strength, I'd be under you for hours, right?”

“Wouldn't that...uh...” Shizuo's mouth waters at the thought of Izaya's body filled with Shizuo's dick and his come, so much that it'd be leaking out of him, seeping in between his thighs. “It wouldn't hurt you?”

“Let's find out,” Izaya says simply, handing Shizuo a new bottle of lube. They go through them frequently. “And stop drooling over me long enough to undress yourself. I want to see you, too.”

“Right,” Shizuo says, already eager to be inside Izaya, to push himself to his limit and fill Izaya until Izaya is wrecked. He thinks of something, pauses. “Should we...have a safe word?”

“As if words have ever stopped you.” Izaya laughs, pulling Shizuo's shirt up and off, tossing it to the side. “No. No matter what I say, I want all you have. I don't want you to stop.”

“Izaya...” Shizuo growls, leans down and licks into Izaya's mouth as Izaya focuses on undoing Shizuo's pants, pushes them down with his feet while Shizuo coats his fingers with the lube. It's quick, frantic. It's always this way until Shizuo is finally pushing a finger inside.

“Hurry it up,” Izaya hisses, clenching around Shizuo's finger. “One isn't anything to me anymore.”

“I know, I know, I just— I want to do it right. You could still tear, you know. If I'm too rough once, that's all it takes.” Despite his words, Shizuo adds another finger, giving Izaya what he wants. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“Don't you?” Izaya presses his hips down against Shizuo's fingers, driving them inside deeper. “Haven't I earned you hurting me? I certainly want you to.”

Shizuo hisses, looking down over the scratches, bites, and bruises all over Izaya's body. It should sicken him to see them and know he's the one who did it, but it only adds fuel to the fire inside his veins, makes him want to tear Izaya apart and be the only one who can hurt him, the only one who can pleasure him. Shizuo wants Izaya to be his in every way entirely, wants Izaya to think of nothing else but being opened and fucked out on Shizuo's dick, wants Izaya desperate for it.

“See?” Izaya asks, looking so smug it makes Shizuo's teeth grind together. “You want to. You want to ruin me for everyone else, admit it.”

“I do,” Shizuo says, hating himself as he says it. He adds a third finger, picks up his pace, fucks Izaya with them until Izaya is gasping and writhing. “I only want you to look at me.”

“Shizu— Nnn! Hurry up, hurry up, I want it!”

“I know what you want.” Shizuo glares down at him, at his fingers disappearing inside Izaya's body. He purrs at the sight, loving the way Izaya looks like this, flushed and trembling with desire. “I want you to say it anyway.”

“Ha...! Trying your hand...at being...forceful...Shizu-chan?” Izaya asks, laughing shortly, his hips twitching and pressing down against Shizuo's fingers.

“It's only right, isn't it?” Shizuo asks. He could be angry at how far Izaya has dragged him down and corrupted him, but deep down Shizuo knows he was always corrupted, every bit as bad as Izaya already. It was easier to hate Izaya before than to hate himself, but he's always known he would follow that sly smirk and narrow frame anywhere, into Hell itself if he had to.

“I want...you inside me!” Izaya breathes, whining in his throat when Shizuo drives his fingers in as deeply as they can go, pressing hard against Izaya's prostate and not letting up on the pressure.

“I'm already inside you,” Shizuo says, his eyes still focused on the way Izaya's body opens for him, the way it seems to always pulls Shizuo inside further, to egg him on until Shizuo can't hold back anymore, just like always.

“Shizuo—fuck, you're—!” Izaya's legs thrash around from their place on either side of Shizuo, his eyes full of tears as the most sensitive part of him is abused mercilessly. Shizuo doesn't let up, presses harder, and grins in cruel satisfaction when Izaya comes hard, just from this.

“Look at you,” Shizuo murmurs, keeping his hand moving even while Izaya spasms and sobs under him. “You always cling so greedily to whatever I put inside you. You just love being filled.”

“Shizu-chan...” Izaya manages, whining again when Shizuo pulls his fingers out abruptly, using his free hand to coat his dick in lube.

“Shh. I know it's not enough. You asked me for all I have, right?” Shizuo doesn't waste any more time. He lines himself up with Izaya's entrance, pressing against, but not in. Not yet. “Tell me what you want.”

Izaya laughs again, though it sounds more unhinged and broken than anything. “So cruel to me, Shizu-chan. Always so cruel.” Izaya's legs curl around Shizuo's waist, not so subtly pulling him forward until the head of his dick is pressing into Izaya. “Oh— This, this is what I want. Your dick, Shizu-chan, it's all I ever want.”

“Yeah?” Shizuo asks. He leans down, licks the few tears that fell onto Izaya's cheek as he pushes his hips forward, sliding home where he belongs in one fluid motion. Izaya's body welcomes him. It always does. “You love me inside you. I thought at first it was the novelty of it, but you really won't relax until I'm in you as deeply as I can go.”

“I can't...can't focus without it...” Izaya gasps, his nails digging into Shizuo's shoulders. “Even when I...have you, it's never enough. I want all you have, everything, only for me, until...until there's nothing left...for anyone else!”

“You love it. You're so fucking greedy for it.” Shizuo laughs softly, pulling his hips backwards before jerking forward once more, addicted to the heat of Izaya around him. He sets a pace, each time fucking as deeply into Izaya as he can go.

“I do, I love it, I love—“ You. Izaya doesn't say it, but they both feel it. That strange thing inside Shizuo, that sticky, festering, dark feeling grows, grows, grows until it's all Shizuo can feel, all he can think about, and he knows all the things he hates about Izaya, those underhanded things, those terrible things, they're a fraction of what Shizuo would do to anyone who ever tried to take Izaya from him.

“Me too,” Shizuo says, and then he's speeding up, holding Izaya's hips and pulling Izaya down to meet him when he thrusts forward until he's coming inside Izaya, pressing as deeply as he can go and watching Izaya's eyes widen at the feeling. Shizuo doesn't so much as hesitate before resuming his pace, already hard and wanting again. He finds it much easier to work himself inside with the added lubrication, with the way Izaya is already so lax around him.

“Yes, yes, fuck,” Izaya groans, hard and panting under Shizuo. “Keep going, give me everything.”

“I will,” Shizuo says, and he means it. Everything he is, everything he has, good and bad, he wants Izaya to have it. “Take me, Izaya.”

“I am...!” Izaya seizes, writhing once more in an orgasm, his hole fluttering and tightening around Shizuo's dick, milking it until Shizuo is coming once more as well, his mouth open and drooling on the pillow next to Izaya's head.

Again, Shizuo's hips start to move almost without his permission, and Shizuo loves the sound of their bodies meeting between his thrusts, loves the way Izaya's breathing mingles in with it.

“Monster, you're a monster,” Izaya moans, a delirious smile on his face as Shizuo keeps fucking into him.

“Take me, Izaya, all I have, like you said,” Shizuo growls into Izaya's ear. He pulls out, relishing the way Izaya whimpers and garbles out some half-formed complaints at the loss. Shizuo puts a hand on Izaya's hip, turns him, rolling him until Izaya's back is pressed flushed to Shizuo's chest. Shizuo reaches out, takes Izaya's thigh, lifts it up and sideways as he guides his dick back inside Izaya, able to rock even deeper from this new angle.

“Oh, fuck, Shizu-chan...” Izaya's head tips back against Shizuo's shoulder as Shizuo picks up the pace.

“You like it?” Shizuo asks, using his strength to move Izaya's entire body backwards and onto his dick. “Feels so fuckin' good inside you, Izaya... You feel good, too?”

“Yes, yes, just keep going, please, give me more...!”

Izaya's never pleaded for him like this. Shizuo goes harder, well aware he's the only reason they're still moving, Izaya useless in front of him. One of Izaya's hands reaches back until it's tangling in Shizuo's hair, his other curling around and gripping Shizuo's ass, weakly trying to pull him in harder.

“God, hnn, you're so...so deep inside me... Shizu-chan, it's so much...”

“Mm...” Shizuo releases Izaya's thigh, presses his hand down against Izaya's lower stomach, growling lowly when he can almost feel himself moving inside Izaya, can feel Izaya's body yielding and submitting to him, even if Izaya himself never would. Izaya is emitting breathy gasps between every thrust, tiny “ah, ah, ah” noises of pleasure, the occasional whimper. Shizuo doesn't know why he ever thought Izaya would be quiet during sex. Izaya never shuts up, and this is no different.

“Tell me how it feels...” Shizuo demands, loving how honest Izaya is like this. He can never stop asking question, demanding answers. Izaya is never more honest than when he's stretched out around Shizuo's body, covered and filled with come.

“So good, so good, Shizu-chan...!”

“Gonna buy you a plug, Izaya,” Shizuo growls into Izaya's ear, moans at the feeling of Izaya clenching around him in answer. “Gonna fill you and—hnnn—plug you up...keep you ready for me...”

“Yes, fuck, Shizuo, yes!”

“You're mine, Izaya,” Shizuo hisses, resisting the urge to do something crazy like bite Izaya as hard as he can, to really hurt him, tear his skin, anything to keep Izaya focused on him, always. “No one else will ever—fuck you like this. No one else can do it like I do, right? No one else could make you this fucked out, could fill you up the way you love like me.”

“I do love it... Oh, fuck, Shizuo, I love it...!”

“Say you're mine.” Shizuo presses forward harder, does bite Izaya, can't help it, but he holds back from hurting Izaya too badly. “Say it...or I'm stopping...!”

“Yours, I'm yours, I only want you! I only—ah...!” Izaya comes, his body tightening once more around Shizuo's.

Satisfied with Izaya's words and with Izaya's hole spasming around him, Shizuo pulls Izaya closer and comes inside him again, watching Izaya's lashes flutter and Izaya's mouth drop open. Tired of not being able to see Izaya clearly, Shizuo rearranges them to their earlier position, Izaya underneath him, legs spread wide. Shizuo groans at the sight of himself leaking out of Izaya's abused hole.

“More?” Izaya asks breathlessly. Shizuo licks the small line of drool on Izaya's chin, pecks sweetly at Izaya's lips.

“Gonna fill you up,” Shizuo pants, already pressing his dick back inside.

“I'm...already...so full of you...” Izaya gasps, and Shizuo loves the sound of that, can't stop himself from pounding inside Izaya harder than he ever has before. Izaya howls under him, isn't getting hard again, but that's okay. Izaya asked for all Shizuo has, no matter what.

Again and again, Shizuo fills Izaya, each time pausing only long enough to kiss Izaya lovingly, to stroke his bangs off his sweaty forehead. Izaya is a blissful, fucked out mess under Shizuo, his eyes half-lidded and barely cognizant anymore. Shizuo loses count of how many times he comes, but the inside of Izaya's thighs are slick, painted with Shizuo's come that can no longer fit inside Izaya's body.

“You want more?” Shizuo asks, barely recognizing his own voice anymore. He's already moving again, not waiting for Izaya's answer, but Izaya nods anyway, his jaw slack and covered with his own drool by this point. Shizuo grins down at him, reaches up, presses a finger inside Izaya's mouth, watching with hungry eyes as Izaya curls his tongue around it, sucks at it while looking up at Shizuo. “Fuck, Izaya. You're so beautiful... The most...beautiful thing I've seen...!”

When Shizuo comes again, he flops onto Izaya, pulling his finger from Izaya's mouth, reaching down to curl his hand around Izaya's dick.

“N-no, Shizu-chan, I can't—“ Izaya starts, pawing weakly at Shizuo.

“Shut up. You can. You will.” Shizuo pumps Izaya quickly, watching as Izaya's eyes roll back and his body starts to convulse. When Izaya comes for him, it's clearly painful, but Izaya moans all the same, going lax under Shizuo and breathing heavily, his eyes unfocused and dazed.

They lay together, still joined, Izaya's hands petting through Shizuo's hair and Shizuo struggling to stay conscious. Izaya is always so agreeable after getting fucked. It's one of the best times to talk to him, second only to demanding truth from Izaya while fucking him.

“Hey, Izaya... I've been thinking...”

“Hmm?”

“What flower do you think I'm like?” It's a stupid question, but Shizuo is curious. Ami didn't know him, not really. Didn't know how awful he can be, how dark and twisted. Izaya knows. And Izaya loves him anyway.

“What?” Izaya giggles, tugs playfully at Shizuo's hair. “What's brought this on?”

“You reminded me flowers have this entire...language. I'm just curious. What am I like, to you?”

Izaya doesn't answer for a while, and Shizuo worries Izaya is pissed, thinking of Ami, but then Izaya hums thoughtfully and wraps his arms around Shizuo's neck, hugging him tightly.

“Kudzu.”

“Kudzu? Those aren't flowers!” Shizuo huffs, lifting on his elbows to glower down at Izaya.

“Kudzu is in the vine family, but there is a flower. Look it up.” Izaya stretches under Shizuo, sighing happily when his joints pop. “That's what you are. Hard to kill, stubborn, overtaking any and everything in your path until you're all that's left. It's very fitting.”

“Annoying. You're annoying.”

“I'm only being honest! Come on, what am I like then? Surely you have some ideas, if you're asking me what I think you are.”

“But I don't know all the stuff! It's not gonna be...right.”

“This is all speculative. There is no right or wrong.”

“I'm not saying. You're gonna make fun of me.”

“You won't tell me?” Izaya pouts, reaches up to pinch Shizuo's nose. “Not even for a Scooby Snack, Shizu-chan?”

“HAH?!”

Izaya cackles under him, doesn't so much as flinch at Shizuo's growls and threats. Shizuo gives up being angry, likes the looks of happiness on Izaya's face. Even after their rough, biting sex, Shizuo still finds himself wrapped around Izaya's pinky.

“Well,” Shizuo says, swatting at Izaya for good measure and settling back over him so he can bury his head in Izaya's pillow. “I thought of a rose, because roses are pretty, and because they're thorny and hard to be around. But that didn't seem right.”

“Mm,” Izaya agrees.

“So then I thought of dangerous flowers. Poisonous ones, and the best of those would be the foxglove, which can also mean insincerity, and you're pretty insincere. Or a lily of the valley or something awful like that.”

Izaya laughs, tugging at Shizuo's hair. “You're so flattering, Shizu-chan.”

“Shut up, Im not done. And anyway, you called me an invasive vine, so fuck you.”

“Okay. Continue, then.” Shizuo can tell from Izaya's voice that Izaya is still smiling.

“But those didn't seem right. I read that the more beautiful something is, the more dangerous it is in the wild. So then, you'd be something else entirely. Something undiscovered yet.”

“Ah,” Izaya says. “So you don't have an exact answer, after all.”

“I do. My answer is that you're beyond comprehension.”

Izaya laughs again, and Shizuo loves how unhindered Izaya sounds, how happy.

“I love that. Beyond comprehension. It's almost poetic, until you realize the source.”

“Hey.”

“So the two of us are an invasive, pesky vine, and a vicious, poisonous flower that hasn't yet been classified. How unfortunate for everyone that we've found each other, don't you think?” Izaya asks, and Shizuo smiles.

“But fortunate for us.”

“Yes,” Izaya agrees, and Shizuo doesn't have to dig deep to find a hidden meaning in his words. “Fortunate for us.”

#shizaya #love in bloom series #drrr!!#Izaya Orihara #Shizuo Heiwajima #multiple orgasms #lots of sex #happy shizaya day y'all

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writeradamanteve · 4 years

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(beautiful and inspiring art by @shrugheadjonesthethird Don’t forget to give her some love.)

Sneak Peek: The Land of Good and Evil

Betty had a passable concept of pain. She’d seen it on humans through the centuries. She knew how to alleviate it with angelic power. She herself had never experienced it, however. Nothing except Hellfire could actually affect her and that sort of thing wasn’t available at the local Home Depot.

Even Jughead never kept that stuff just lying around. He apparently didn’t want anyone getting their hands on it and using it to overpower the angel running the corner bookstore. He stored his Hellfire in the highest mountain peak of Gangkhar Puensum in Tibet, where humans are yet to reach its 24,836 foot high summit. Of course, he had no problem just snapping his fingers and fetching it in 2 seconds—as he did when that one night, he thought some avenging angel was trying to break into the bookstore, but he hadn’t had to use it (it turned out some lush just mistakenly tried to key himself into the store, thinking it was his apartment).

“Might be a great idea to rethink this arrangement,” he had said, a casual edge in his tone as they sat together in what had been companionable silence, her at her writing desk and him from the overhead bookstore loft, booted feet dangling through the railings. It was their first night at the bookstore after the Incident. “You know, given that heaven and hell are out to get us for actively cancelling that little thing called the Apocalypse.”

She had frowned, feeling herself getting upset all over again by this unpleasant topic. “I thought we agreed that the angels were at least too afraid of what God might do if they hurt me.”

He knew her moods far too well and he never liked upsetting her, so he appeared by her desk chair in seconds, having taken his spot on the footstool so that he was looking up and she was looking down.

His little scoff was slightly infuriating, but he distracted from her annoyance by taking her bare foot in his hands and massaging it with skillful ease. “All I’m saying is that nothing’s to stop them from claiming that they came here to hurt me and that you got caught in the crossfire.”

Ordinarily, their kind—angel and demon alike—were immune to touch, so massages do nothing, unless, of course, they allow sensations to permeate. When Jughead got this way, Betty’s default was to allow. She actively had to shut sensations down if she wanted to rebuff him.

After 3,000 years together on this plane, it was difficult to disconnect from him. Even when they were fighting, she couldn’t help but tell him about her day whilst telling him how horrible and conniving he was.

Right now, the gentle circling of his thumb was rolling pleasant waves from her ankle, up to her legs, which was an altogether welcome sensation, but she was fully aware of what he was telling her and she was having none of it. “I told you, you’re staying right here. Now that everyone knows we’re chummy, there’s hardly any point to you and I living in separate spaces. This way is expedient—to the work we do here on Earth, of course. And we don’t have to keep wondering where in the world the other is, so long as we diligently leave each other Post-It notes on the refrigerator door. Besides, it isn’t as if you have a choice. God didn’t restore your old place so you have nowhere to stay.”

He grinned, his hint of fang glinting against the candle light and his unearthly, icy blue gaze staring up at her in amusement. “I’m a demon, Betty. I don’t actually need a place to live.”

She felt pleased by the implication that while he didn’t need a place to stay, he was opting to stay in her bookstore anyway. “Nonsense. We all have our creature comforts. You aren’t immune to it either, ‘else God wouldn’t have given you back your Bentley. If you didn’t love it in the first place, you wouldn’t have kept that car of yours around for so long.”

He shrugged, conceding that point but continuing to massage her foot. “I concede. The Big Guy did elect to give us back the thing we love the most on this earth…your bookstore and my car.“

She arched her eyebrow, to which he replied with a wink. She scoffed.

He shrugged. “Doesn’t change the fact that I’ll always be a danger to you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please.” A glass of wine appeared in one hand as she waved away his words with the other. Leaning back on her chair, she appeared to be enjoying the way his knuckles were pressing against the arch of her foot. “We thwarted the armies of heaven and hell and we survived execution. However ticked off the heavenly hosts and hoards of hell are with us, they very well know they are forbidden from killing us by God’s law, and by turn, Lucifer’s law. Even if it weren’t, they’ll be lucky not to shirt their pants coming after us.”

Betty maintained that the little trick they pulled during their respective executions—switching bodies, thereby preventing Betty’s annihilation by Hellfire and Jughead’s by Holy Water—was the best prank of the millenia. Betty suspected God knew everything that had happened, but as was His won’t, His plans were, as they say, ineffable.

Jughead let the argument drop after that, shifting his efforts to the massage, and later to cheekily coaxing her to be more daring about his ministrations.

He didn’t get far, of course. She didn’t let him (the nerve). Betty may be an angel of vice, but she drew the line at indulging him.

So all this meant was—on a fairly objective level, she understood what pain and pleasure was, but she never actually felt pain. She wasn’t even sure if she actually felt pleasure.

But now.

Waking up from an evening of excessive shots of tequila and hot sauce with Jughead, she felt a pounding headache.

Firstly, that she fell asleep at all was highly unusual, considering she hadn’t had to sleep a wink the last 3,000 years.

She could barely open her eyes without crossing them and she felt her groan actually reverberate through her body.

Secondly, she didn’t actually think “Oh, I have a headache!” What she thought was What in the Nine Hells is this?

Draped on a nearby chaise, Jughead was also waking from sleep. “Fuuuuuuuck!”

With his hands clutching his head, Jughead sat up and groaned. “Heaven’s Hemorrhoids, what am I—my head! My mouth. It feels disgusting!”

Jughead’s voice had never sounded so terrible.

Betty tossed a pillow and it went flying to his face. “Please be quiet. You are making it worse!”

They moaned and groaned for about a minute before Jughead looked up from his hands and stared at the table behind her. “Where is all the tequila?”

Betty looked up and noticed the empty bottles that surrounded them. Her jaw dropped. “They’re empty. They’re all empty, Jughead!”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious. Where did all of it go? Oh, my loving Satan, my head!” Though Jughead was clutching his head, he stood up, wobbled slightly, but determinedly went to the empty bottles, knocking a few down as he picked one up and sniffed its contents. “These are the same bottles. Where did it--Elizabeth, you don’t think--” He looked at her, eyes widening. “It isn’t still in us, is it?”

Betty couldn’t fathom that they hadn’t expelled it like they had the last 3,000 years. Half the alcohol they’d been consuming over the millenia had been consumed and re-consumed by them thousands of times, and they never forgot to put them back in the bottles after they were done getting drunk. They’d never actually kept it in their bodies.

An unpleasant feeling consumed her gut, and just as she began to get a sinking feeling that the alcohol was permeating her system, she realized in horror that she just very well might throw up.

All over her antique books.

She shot out of her chair, repeating the mantra she would give her customers: Down the hall, two doors to your left.

And when she threw the door open, she instinctively went to the nearest hole, which was the toilet, and hurled.

There’s the tequila.

********************

Suffice it to say, the alcohol was still obviously in their system, and Jughead, in his state of dehydration, went to the nearest bodega, purchased an entire case of bottled water, and sat both him and Betty down to drink it.

“I don’t know what’s happening, but my powers are going haywire and it looks like we need to expel the stuff the natural way,” Jughead said, chugging down one bottle and proceeding to open another. “At least for the meantime. Ugh, the indignity. Here--good, clean water.”

Betty glared at him through her miserable state. “New York water from the tap is the best in the country. Did you have to purchase those infernal plastic things--”

“Spare me your angelic environmental bullshit for the time being and drink up. Are your powers working for you?”

Her powers weren’t exactly cooperating, either, so she grumbled her response and began drinking the water he offered.

She felt her gorge rise again, but she managed to stifle it, stamping away the nausea with a deep breath and a cool gulp of Poland Springs.

Jughead, even with his bloodshot eyes and alcoholic stink, managed to grin. “Who knew you were such a lightweight?”

Betty made a face and stuck her tongue out at him.

He laughed and then sniffed himself. “Holy shit, I stink, Cooper.”

“I’m not feeling quite so fresh, myself. I can’t believe we actually need a bath.”

“Shall we do the environmentally responsible thing and share one?” He winked.

She rolled her eyes but she wasn’t in the mood to argue this point. “If you shut up, then yes.”

Jughead blinked in surprise, no doubt expecting to be shot down. When she didn’t take it back, he pouted. “You’re no fun when you have a hangover.”

#the land of good and evil #sneak peek

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phoenix · 4 years

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What is Truth?

I’ve been thinking for awhile about writing a post about just exactly WHY knowing things, truth, facts, and honesty are so important to me, and how they shape my worldview, and why I stumbled into being a fact checker. Largely because my sister keeps saying I need to do more research into things and uh...

I’mma cut this, since it’s probably gonna get long.

This goes back to my childhood. I was a VERY innocent and naive child. I mean, we almost all are, up to a certain age, but for me that age was probably later than most. I believe part of that is because in elementary school, I had a few special needs due to my disability, and every classmate started out with me, so we always knew each other and were friends.

But then I moved to Vermont when I was nine, started fourth grade, and I was the new kid, and very quickly, some students saw a new mark with big glasses and bad vision and a love of comics they could target. And this is when I learned, wait, what? People can say things that are NOT true??

Which is a bit of a wonder considering my love of reading, but hey, I knew those were *stories*. Why would someone tell me something that wasn’t true?? But I digress.

Everyone picked up on this, and it very soon was a game for everyone to tell me the biggest lie, because I would believe it. Once the laughter started, and that pain hit me HARD, I vowed I would never be a sucker again. It goes without saying that I did NOT like being lied to and laughed at and made to feel like a fool.

I pretty much became a hardcore sceptic, who does not believe ANYTHING at face value. I still get caught for a few moments, but then my brain kicks in. I’ve often said I am somewhere between Mulder and Scully; I WANT to believe, but you gotta give me evidence. But in general I trust no one. But eventually you have to trust SOMEone, so most of my favourite sources are ones who’ve done right by me over the last 20+ years. But hey, I also know that no one is above reproach, and everyone has an agenda, but that’s another post maybe.

Since I was already into reading, and spending time in the library, it quickly shifted into also being about research, and studying (Which hey, also helped with school!). I love to know all the things. I also love conspiracies and folklore, so I know how other people have been fooled, and started developing a pretty good bullshit detector.

(Keep in mind, this is the late 80s, before there was a Snopes and almost no one was online. This was all hard research with physical books and digging through stacks at the library.

This also circles around to my love of stories, and wanting to write, so I know how to craft stories, but I never do it without clearly telling a story. Honesty became VERY important to me, and ever since those early days in fourth grade, I not only didn’t want to feel the fool, I never wanted to make other people feel that way. I do my best to never lie. I don’t always succeed, but the instances are VERY few and VERRRY far between.

I am more than willing, and have before, ended friendships because I caught someone in a lie. Honesty is that important to me. I am also very forgiving though, so if a person owns up to it, and explains why, I am very likely to shrug and move on.

In college, I studied a lot of psychology, and continue to do that today, and I did it largely for writing purposes, but again, it gave me insight into how people think, a skill which I still use today.

Another one of my side interests, is I have ALWAYS loved magic. But what does that have to do with anything? A lot of magic involves how to trick people, especially when you get into mentalism. A lot of magic tricks are just twists on old con games. And my love of magic, wanting to know things, and really really loathing hucksters like ‘psychics’ who claim to speak to the dead and manipulate people, are more things that just pushed my buttons. I know many of the tools used by magicians and mentalists and con men to trick people into believing them.

And then came my time on the internet. I spend a lot of time here. Y’all know I can find damned near anything. At this point, it should be clear I have a VERY honed bullshit detector, and am very good at tracking down the truth behind something, or the original source. And sometimes it’s just being able to spot a photoshop at 50 paces.

So yeah, the truth, facts, matter to me. I love knowing things. I have spent my life learning how people can be tricked. So it is VERY difficult to trick me, whether that be a phone scam, an internet photoshop, infinite chocolate, and the media.

Which, believe me, is NOT to say, as Garfield loves to tell us, I am not immune to propaganda. In fact, some times I am more susceptible to it in part because of confidence, and in part due to a bit of Dunning Kruger effect, in overestimating my ability. But I am pretty good at spotting manipulation.

And the big thing is, if someone does come along and say hey, that’s wrong, because maybe I posted it in haste or when I was emotional (Look, I can’t check EVERYthing for multiple sources, I have SOME life!) I am more than willing to check on it myself, and admit I was wrong and either correct or take down.

I’m also very open to other viewpoints, because I KNOW I don’t have all the answers, and I know the people on the tv don’t tell all the truth (Although as I was saying elsewhere, I don’t really get much news from the tv, preferring to read it instead, but same principles.)

And I also know I’m not perfect, and make mistakes.

Generally, you can assume if I’m saying something, I’ve done at least some due diligence (or I will say hey, I didn’t fact check this, caveat emptor). I may not be an actual authority, but I am always always always studying and learning and researching, so would like to say I speak with some authority, or at least some backing behind my words

#Foenix rambles #a whole lot #FoeSis #truth #a subjective thing #but there are certain things that are true

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heloisedaphnebrightmore · 4 years

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You will be mine - Chapter 1. Something in him [Park Jimin x Reader]

Title: You will be mine - Chapter 1. Something in him ➔ Chapter 2. Here! Pairing: Park Jimin x Female!Reader Published: 25 June, 2020 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore

You will be mine Masterlist | Masterlists

Being a teenager in Seoul, South Korea is hard. You are constantly studying to a point where you even dream with your textbooks or your rather annoying teachers. Then there is the discrimination. If you don't look pretty enough for their liking, or you lack a certain sense of style, which is of course decided by those kids whose parents have more money than you could imagine, you don't even have to worry, they will surely make you realise their dislike towards you. Addition to it, if you are a foreigner in a Korean high school, they will try to force you to be the school's play toy. Although, it only happens if you let them.

Of course as a foreign citizen living and studying in Korea I have had my fair share of problems, but I've never been the kind of girl who runs to the corner to cry, feeling sorry for herself. I've always stood up for myself and never let their insults get to me. It is a hard task. When people treat you bad, it will certainly have an impact on you. However it does take inner power to get you to stand up against them, which I am lucky enough to be able to do.

While living in Seoul, I didn't just experience the negative treats of the city. I was fortunate enough to make some good, loyal friends, who stood by my side. It's only been six months since I have moved to this completely new country, but I've already experienced bullying, have been sent to the principal's office and got suspended for a week.

There is a certain amount of harassment a person can take and I happened to get fed up on that particular day. Everyone has a limit and you physically are unable to stop yourself from reaching it. It's like when you pour water into a glass, the glass will not be able to stop you, but you can only pour until the top or it will end up streaming down the side.

On that day I felt the same. I couldn't control myself anymore, my mind went blank, my whole body was shaking out of anger. My fists were so tight, my knuckles turned white from the force. I felt my nails painfully ripping into the skin of my palm while letting some of the droplets of my blood escape. I could even hear the drops landing on the floor, if I really wanted to, while my bully was still venting her frustration on me. I didn't care that she was attacking me, I didn't care when she made up stories about me. I was already immune to their constant attention. At some point I even joked about that they must have had a crush on me for always trying to get my attention.

But the last straw was when one of their filthy mouth mentioned my friends in a rather disgusting gossip of theirs. I lost control. Just like that. I didn't plan it, I didn't expect it. I was watching myself as if I was a bystander. I have never hit anyone before, but my fist went on its own until it painfully met her face. A strong, sharp feeling shot through my fist, rushing up to my wrist, sending a numb sensation to my arm. Oh but it was worth it, alright.

The girl was lying on the grey tiled floor, dramatically screaming in pain, tears running down her doll-like face, ruining her carefully created make up. She acted as if I had hit her numerous times. I did get carried away, I would have never disputed that, but there was certainly no blood anywhere and I didn't even consider my little swing a powerful one. But she just kept screaming bloody murder, until the principal appeared with a horrified expression across his old, wrinkled face. He dragged me by my upper arm, straight to his office and suspended me for assault without even trying to listen to my side of the story. If I wasn't fuming enough already, that certainly helped me to reach my limits, but I kept in control this time.

I have lived through worse and although it did leave a sour taste in my mouth, I tried to get past these memories.

After my suspension, when I finally returned to school, I just wanted to get back to the normal cycle. Everyone would want that. Just study, have fun with friends and ignore those who try to destroy your carefully protected cycle.

But it came crumbling down right in front of me, as if they pulled the rug out from under me when I first saw him, running his fingers through his already messy hair as he passed me on the corridor. His presence radiated strength and confidence, capturing not just my eyes, but also my mind. My brain felt simply numb and I was incapable of thinking of anything but that certain person. Even trying to mutter an incoherent sentence felt like a lost attempt and that was not hard to do so.

I walked through the school's entrance door with my friend on the side, and would have minded my own business, just as I originally planed to do so. But boy, was I wrong to expect an uneventful day. My eardrums fought hard against a group of girls, each trying to scream louder than the other. I was uncertain of what caused such a behaviour, but I was certainly interested to see it for myself. I walked closer to the circle trying to look over the girls, tilting my head to have a clearer view in between the constantly moving heads, jumping bodies and impatiently stomping feet.

Then it hit me. He had such a powerful aura, I felt my breath involuntarily hitch at the sight of him. He walked through the corridor as if he owned the place and I was certain that he was not the only one thinking that way. I heaved a sigh as he turned to walk out of the building and he passed me, almost bumping into me followed by his friends. His dark eyes met mine and I felt as if he was capable of seeing through me. A shiver decided to run down my spine, as my concentration shifted to his parted lips, which were dominated by a slightly pink colour. The colour, I felt my cheeks turning into.

He was wearing his school uniform, which was supposed to look baggy and undesirable on each and every student, but his muscles were clearly visible through the thin, white material, showing it off to the curious eyes. I was incapable of taking my eyes off him and I was still following his path with my gaze when he has already exited the building, leaving me craving for more.

"Y/N?" My friend was poking my shoulder impatiently, but I somehow wasn't interested in what she had planned to say to me. My mind was still wandering over the presence of the boy. Although I didn't know him just yet, I was certain that I was about to. "Seriously, Y/N?" My friend tried again, this time successfully capturing my attention. I looked at her big brown eyes, which seemed rather unhappy with my ignorant behaviour.

"Who was he?" I asked nodding my head towards the direction the mystery boy left.

"Wait, are you being serious?" She frowned in confusion, making me feel less confident for some reason as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. She heaved a sigh as if she was about to tell me something I was supposed to already know. Even her sigh sounded rather annoyed. "He is Park Jimin. You must have heard about the group of boys who seemed to cause trouble for a while. Well, he is one of the members. They are quite popular amongst the female students. Even some of the male pupils, if you ask me." She grinned.

"He seems interesting." I blurted it out. Even I was surprised at my own words.

"You've never even spoken to him. You've just met him for the first time." She looked at me in disbelief.

"You are right, Yojin. I know that. And believe me, I feel like a bloody idiot. But there is something... just something in him." I looked at her with determination in my gaze. I knew she thought I was insane and that was probably the kindest adjective she has used internally.

"I'm assuming there is something you want to do... about this." She spoke, knowing me too well.

"Well, I am certainly interested in him, so logically speaking, I should get to know him." I shrugged with a tiny smile appearing in the corner of my lips.

"Let me make this clear. These boys have a very bad reputation. Which I do not say we have to believe, they could certainly be just rumours, but maybe... just maybe, they could be true and in that case you should rather just sit tight and do nothing." She tried to convince me, but I just chuckled at her weak attempt. I knew first hand what it was to be the centre of a story, I didn't even know existed.

"Anything else?" I grinned at her as I threw my arm around her shoulder and gently started pushing her towards the class room.

"Y/N, you don't get it. Even if they are not as bad as the rumours say, the girls gawking over them are cruel people, who will find the most disgusting ways to get rid of you, if you even decide to take a step toward one of their boys." She spoke, looking up at me as a deep frown sat across her brows. I didn't dispute that the girls definitely seemed a bit off, a bit maybe over the top, but girls are just girls. What could be the worst to happen...

"I love you, Yojin, but let's be honest. You know me. I am not one to back down just because of some minor obstacles. I completely understand your worry, but there is just something in him. I would like to get to know him." A reassuring smile spread across my face. "So will you be helping me, or will I be doing it on my own?" I asked with a cheeky smile, knowing she always loved my playful side. She let out a deep sigh before opening her mouth to answer.

"Fine... But if anything goes wrong, you leave them alone, am I clear?" She asked in such a motherly tone, I just laughed softly and nodded in agreement.

Notes: If you enjoyed it, don’t forget to like the chapter. Thank you :)

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