#I can just imagine all of your ‘exes’ like in little tents outside of your house

[yourstogame]

which exes bc there’s a building line atp………but ykw no I shouldn’t! THEY should be singing that to ME!

The “scary” dog one and the one with dyed hair

[she-karev]

First Day Back (Japril Imagine)

Previous Part Here

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: Five of Five

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Ship: Jackson Avery x April Kepner

Trigger Warning: Elements of human trafficking

Human Trafficking Resources: https://humantraffickinghotline.org/en, https://www.dhs.gov/blue-campaign/what-human-trafficking,

Canon Episode: Season 17 Episode 6

Summary: April is relaxing at the tent outside with Amber where they make up. They later talk about their relationships and whether or not to give their respective exes another chance.

Words: 2419

April 29th, 2020

April sits in a chair staring at the manila envelope in her hands on the table under the tarp of the attendings tent outside. She listens to the pitter patter of the heavy rain that comes to Seattle most of the year. She thinks it’s fitting that it’s raining on a day like today. A day that has tested her limits and makes her worry for her daughter more than she already does.

She did her best to help Jada and Shanice so they can feel safe for the first time today. April saw the video of the altercation at the scene between firefighters and cops and her heart broke at the sight of one of the mothers being slammed into the hood of a car like some criminal further traumatizing her daughter. April is well aware that if it was her on the scene defending her daughter the cops wouldn’t arrest her because she doesn’t look like a threat to the cops and it infuriates her.

All of this makes April’s blood boil with rage. In an already terrible time, she didn’t need to be face to face with the injustices of the police system. She didn’t need to get a glimpse of what could have happened to her daughter. She didn’t need to see the world her daughter is gonna have to grow up in. Her rage shifts to sadness when she acknowledges there is nothing, she can do to fix this big problem for Harriet who deserves all the good things in this world.

“Is this tent taken?” April looks up to find Amber Karev approaching the table across from hers wearing a rain jacket. Amber takes the wet hoodie off and looks at April with guilt that she also shares with her friend.

“It’s a free country.” April responds leaning back in her chair, “Or it should be at least.” Amber sits down in a chair facing April from the table ten feet away from her. They are silent for a moment before they both speak up in unison.

“I’m sorry.”

“No.” April shakes her head at Amber apologizing, “I shouldn’t have said those things to you. You were just unloading and instead I projected all my problems on you and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for coming on too strong that night it was stupid.”

“Yeah it was.” Amber agrees, “But I said some things too, things I shouldn’t have brought up unless I wanted a punch in the face.”

“That is very true.” April nods with a slight grin, “Your lucky I’m more even tempered than you otherwise you would have ended up over the balcony that night.”

“I would have taken you down with me I guarantee it.” Amber retorts with a smile causing April to chuckle lightly, “Yeah I was waiting for you to apologize but then…I heard about those girls you were treating.”

April nods with a frown, “Yeah it makes our little squabble stupid and slight.”

“It really does.” Amber sighs in her chair before saying another apology, “I’m sorry for bringing up Samuel that was low, I am so sorry.”

April inhales and nods, “Well you weren’t the only one who brought up another person’s painful past that night. I’m sorry for calling you a coward for not giving DeLuca a chance because of your mom. It wasn’t my place, and I don’t know the extent of what that woman put you through. I’m sorry for belittling it and trying to make you feel worse than you already do.”

Amber looks down at her hands in sadness, “There might have been some truth to what you said that night. Not about me being a coward but about letting my mom and brother cloud my judgement when it comes to Andrew. I am so afraid of him triggering me again that I haven’t considered that maybe he won’t. I mean he’s doing the work; I can see that but all I can think about is how my mother did the work too until something came up and she broke.”

“Well, everyone treats their own mental illness differently.” April reminds Amber, “And not that I am defending her but back when she was first diagnosed people would lock mental patients up and toss the key. And the was before medicine evolved and people started to live with this disease. It’s the same with DeLuca’s father. Andrew’s illness is hard, and I get how his behavior triggered you but he’s trying to get ahead of it. I know you don’t have much exposure to it, but people can live with mental illness and be their best selves around their loved ones.”

“…Yeah I think I’m starting to see that with DeLuca.” April looks at her friend in sympathy listening this time instead of responding, “I mean just an hour ago he told me what I needed to hear. He told me he would keep prioritizing his mental health and not putting our relationship second to his mania. It’s what I wanted to hear from him months ago only now so much has happened.”

DeLuca’s Speech Here

“I saw him break down in tears in the middle of the lobby and it was like seeing my mother all over again. He kicked me out when I tried to help, and he left without so much as a call or a text. All of that happened and I don’t know if I can make myself vulnerable to him again. I mean he opened me up and it made what he did that much more painful.”

April sighs and looks up at the ceiling in torment, “Love sucks.”

Amber chuckles, “Yeah it really does, I would have expected me to say it first but the fact that you did tells me I’m not the only one with trouble in the personal life lane. What’s going on in your end?”

April sighs and holds up the manila envelope, “Divorce papers came in yesterday and Matthew already signed them.”

“Ouch. Do you want me to kick his ass when this thing is over? I’m sure your grudge can last that long.”

April grins at Amber’s need to step in and fight, “No I’m fine. It was coming sooner or later I knew that I’m not upset about that.”

Amber senses something amiss and pries, “So what are you upset about?”

April sighs looking at the envelope in her hands in thought before confessing, “I’m…I’m not upset about the divorce, I’m upset about how not upset I am.”

Amber furrows her eyebrows in confusion and clarifies, “Your upset that you’re not upset?”

April looks around to make sure there is no one around to overhear them and tells Amber in a low voice, “Jackson and I kissed.”

Amber doesn’t look the least bit surprised telling April that her friend already knows to her annoyance, “He told you?”

“I’m his best friend honey, he tells me everything.” Amber tells April bluntly, “If it makes you feel better, he sounded as conflicted as you probably are and it explained why you were so testy that night I came back.”

April scoffs offended, “I never got testy.”

“Mmm a little testy. But I get it, I’ve taken out some of my own personal crap on people.” Amber states understanding, “What does the kiss have to do with your reaction to the divorce?”

“The kiss was a thing that should not have happened…yet I think. It was a possible future kiss, a kiss that might happen in the future possibly, but the possible future is not now, it can’t be.”

“Have you been reading sci-fi again?” Amber asks completely lost in April’s rambles.

Kepner groans rubbing her temples to center herself, “I told Jackson the kiss meant nothing, that it was just his reaction to the world crumbling and when I told him that and he agreed…it was like my heart got ripped out. I felt sadder over a kiss with my ex than I did when my current one sent me the divorce papers. It was like those feelings I had for Jackson they never really went away.”

Amber nods listening intently feeling giddy inside over her best friend possibly about to be with the woman he never stopped loving. She knows the connection between Jackson and April never really went away and was just waiting for them to realize the same.

April continues leaning against the table on her elbows, “I mean with Matthew it was comfortable, we had the same interests and the same passion for God and the same need to help people. On paper we are perfect together but with Jackson…I feel things I have never felt with anyone. It was exhilarating…and scary, it was exhilarating and scary how much I could love someone who on paper I shouldn’t even tolerate let alone love. And that’s what made it more unbearable when he and I divorced. When I signed those papers, it was like I was signing away the most passionate and loving time of my life and I was never gonna get it back.”

Amber sighs knowing the feeling too well, “Love sucks.”

April nods with a frown as Amber continues, “But it’s also great. Falling in love with DeLuca, letting myself open up to him it was…it was like he opened up a part of myself I closed off to survive.”

April looks at Amber in thought as her mind goes to Jackson and whether he felt this way with her. She wonders if her leaving to go to war led to the same impact in his heart that DeLuca’s actions had on Amber’s. She wonders if Amber was also right that night as well.

“It must have been hard.” April says and Amber nods in response, “Having your heart open like that and to have someone you thought you could count on rip it out because they were reluctant to face their own pain. I imagine it makes it hard to see things from their point of view and understand that…that you weren’t the only one that was hurting all those months.”

Amber narrows her eyes at that explanation feeling like April is talking about herself and Jackson, “I take it we’re not just talking about me and DeLuca, are we?”

“Is it that obvious?” April asks in slight amusement before elaborating the accusation Amber told April the night they fought, “Do you really think Jackson is afraid to give me another chance because he thinks I’ll leave again?”

Amber sighs and collects her thoughts before speaking, “I think you both went through an unimaginable tragedy, and you needed to deal with it in your own way. But April you need to understand that Jackson’s father left him. He left because he couldn’t handle the pressures of the family legacy and Jackson ended up closing that part of his heart so he wouldn’t get hurt again. I know this because it’s what I did when my dad left too. We’re completely different but the one thing we have in common is that we have been burned by people who were supposed to love us and it had a lasting impact.”

April looks at Amber in thought as she continues, “And then you and Andrew walked in and you showed us how to be vulnerable. You showed us that it’s okay to love. So, to have you leave Jackson to go to the middle east and having Andrew leave me after his breakdown it was…it was like that pain our fathers left behind came back again only it was so much worse. It was like you healed our wounds only to reopen them again.”

April sighs and chastises herself for not considering this five years ago. She thought that Jackson was being stubborn but really he was protecting himself just like Amber is, only unlike DeLuca she never acknowledged her own mistakes. She never apologized for leaving him to grieve alone because she was so caught up in her own. She understands now that she’s not the only one afraid of getting hurt again.

“I hurt him, and I didn’t realize that.” April says in shame, “I told myself he was overreacting, but I didn’t consider that I left him like his father did…it’s no wonder he didn’t bring up Montana.”

“Well, that was his own mistake.” Amber points out, “You both made mistakes, and you hurt each other. You can never take that back, it’s always gonna be there and you can’t go back and change it…but maybe you can find a way to move forward.” Amber has a look of realization as she shares this advice that she begins to consider for her own relationship.

April knows that look too well, “I take it you’re considering taking your own advice just like I am?”

Amber inhales and nods, “Yeah, I think I am…I think I’m gonna try not to let my past stop me from a chance at happiness. I think I’m gonna learn to trust Andrew again…I don’t know if he’s gonna earn it but he’s earned the chance to try and I’m gonna let him.”

April nods in approval, “It’s a big risk but it might be worth it. Meanwhile…I’m gonna see if Jackson is willing to take that chance with me.” April stands up and leaves Amber in the tent to go see Jackson so they can finally talk. She enters the pit and goes up to a nurse at the station.

“Hi is Dr. Avery still here?”

“No Dr. Kepner, he left, he said he needed to see his daughter tonight.” April sighs knowing how Jackson needs to see Harriet after Jada and Shanice, “Do you want me to page him?”

April shakes her head, “No I don’t need him, I just wanted to know if he was still here, thank you.” The nurse leaves April in the pit alone. The trauma surgeon pulls out her phone and opens her texting app. She types up a message to Jackson contemplating whether or not to send it. She fiddles her fingers around her phone before pressing the send button.

Hi, can we talk?

April sees the three bubbles start to form and it’s like an eternity is passing before she gets an answer back.

Sure, we’ll talk tomorrow morning at the park bench 9 am?

April texts back sure and puts her phone away so she can finish her shift and finally settle things with Jackson once and for all.

Next Part Here

[badgirlcovenrep]

The Goddess' Blessing (of a daughter)

Chapter One

(NOTES: the raylla adopts Tiffany fic everyone's been asking for

this is going on AO3 once I get home from my sister's but I wanted to post here first. If you'd rather read it there follow me and I'll post once it's officially in there.

Obs: Tiffany is six in this. Mostly because I wanted to write our witch moms carrying their baby and canonically she's like ten so..... and she's also like severely traumatized. We'll get to the healing soon enough though.

+ Edwin is the best papa. And Scylla has p much already adopted this kid, she just doesn't know it yet.

It's half past six p.m when their train screeches to a halt at the Chippewa station. In all the chaos of the last couple of weeks, Scylla hadn't realized Yule was well on it's way. It is still mid November, but the station has been prematurely decked in civilian Christmas decorations, and almost every wall and corner twinkles in golden speckles and fake pine.

Tiffany had been dozing in and out of sleep on the bench next to her, holding tight to her stuffed parrot as well as Scylla's coat sleeve with her restless small hands that spasmed in pure energy even as she slept. Since coming back from Nicte's mission, Scylla had been in a frenzy to get everything ready for their trip, and Tiffany had followed her around the (no longer safe) safe house, clinging on to her attention with wide blue eyes. She'd always liked kids. Before everything happened Scylla even used to babysit for dodger families.

It was never a lot of money, but she appreciated the levity and humor kids carried. They had hope Scylla prayed she could one day get back. Hope that could only come from the fleeting innocence of childhood. But even then, Tiffany was special, she still had all those wonderful, bright things, and she carried them in bulk, spilling out of her tiny little hands for anyone to see.

Yet she was also touched by things so horrible Scylla sometimes shuddered awake in the dead of night, when her mind conjured up terrible nightmares of being in her place. Of being squeezed into a tiny cage, fed dog food, strung up on a stage as masked psychopaths snickered and passed around stones bigger than fists. It showed, sometimes, in how every once in a while her expression became somber and reserved. How she stopped mid-sentence, and Scylla could see the glint of tears in the corners of her eyes.

It reminded her of Raelle - Raelle, who'd sat in her bed just yesterday and snacked on the stupid expensive popcorn her mother had bought - Raelle, who also carried so much darkness behind her strong, steady demeanor - those were the parts of her Scylla couldn't help but want to protect, and as a result, those feelings also extended to Tiffany. Scylla lost a lot of people in her life, and she'd decided the day she found the child's parents that she would do whatever it took to keep her safe. Just like she wished someone might have done for her. Because that sort of hidden, desolate pain could just as well transform itself into something entirely awful if exploited the right way.

People around her start getting up from their seats, reaching to the compartments for their luggage, there aren't many of them making their way up North this time of year but they still fill the cart in humming conversations, deciding on what to do next or where to get dinner. Scylla takes this as her cue to skim her fingers through Tiffany's hair, gently nudging her awake, "Hey, T, wake up, we're here."

The little girl sits up, bleary eyed, and yawns, looking around at the commotion, "it's already Christmas?" She asks, catching a glimpse of the boisterous decorations set up outside.

"Not yet, no." Scylla chuckles, getting up from her seat to retrieve their own bags - they had everything the two could think to bring, and yet were still not much. A duffel bag for Scylla and purple backpack for Tiffany, with unicorn stickers and colorful buttons sewn to the front. Scylla had retrieved it, along with some toys and clothes, from the girl's home, "People just love decorating early."

"Oh." Tiffany quips, as Scylla helps her fit her arms into the straps of her backpack, then takes her hand in a steady grip once they are done, pulling the young girl towards the door to leave the train, "The lights are pretty!" She exclaims happily, blinking in wide eyed wonder.

Outside, November has definitely made itself known, and Scylla is glad they are both warm in their coats as the wind bites her cheeks until they turn a dark blush. She looks around for Edwin, not sure she'll recognize him from the pictures she'd seen Willa scatter around the house, but still willing to try.

For a second, in that moment, she thinks this might not have been a good idea. When Scylla agreed to it, she'd admittedly not been in her full faculties, brain too preoccupied with seeing Raelle again after so long to completely comprehend what she'd been offered.

After everything that happened, she can't help but be a little nervous to meet the father of her ex (?), the same girl she still very much loved. The girl who had run back to her in that dark forest a day before and clung onto her face until all they could breathe was each other.

If she thought too much about it, Scylla could still feel the soft, almost painful impact of her lips as Raelle knocked her off her balance and breathed fire into her chest like molten lava. It'd been so long, she almost forgot the kind of power Raelle had when she kissed. Like she was always on the verge of tasting your very soul. Their whole day back together before was so very delicate and tentative, air fizzling with electricity like the tension of a bow, pulled tight with an arrow ready to shoot.

The time they've been separated her heart was squeezed tight under an elastic band. Whenever she stopped to think, even for a minute, she could feel it taught, so very strained, reaching from the very inside of her ribs. It was there from the very start. The tightness was what propelled her diaphragm into breathing Raelle in that very first night they spent together, even if she knew she shouldn't, and then, it was what kept them orbiting around each other like their very own solar system. Never too far apart. Always wishing to be closer.

When they kissed in the clearing, hairs messy with the wild strumming of the bat just a few feet away, for the first time, she felt like the band released. The invisible string, so very tight, loosening from under her heart to extend around the both of them and wrap them in what Scylla could only describe as exhilarating, shaking relief. The touch of Raelle's cotton gloves, that she never thought she'd feel again - the taste of her lips, like blood and rain droplets and a mouthful of just her.

It left Scylla running on a high since she walked away from Raelle just the day before, in the early hours of the morning.

It's not how she hoped she'd meet Raelle's dad. Deep down, no matter how much she tried not to, Scylla had imagined herself, more than once, coming to the Cession hand in hand with the blonde fixer. In love and together, going home to meet the parents. It's bittersweet to be here with Tiffany instead, and she has to squeeze the young witch's hand slightly to ground herself from the urge to run.

To just take the child's small body in her arms and run- leave the station in lieu of a cheap motel, one with vending machines, where they could hide from the world a little longer.

When the witch looks down, however, Tiffany smiles reassuringly back at her, squeezing her hand slightly in return, and Scylla can't help the wave of affection that washes over her.

"Excuse me? Are you Scylla and Tiffany?" A voice coming from behind wakes them back from the moment, and when they turn, both come face to face with Edwin Collar.

Scylla's sure it's him. If not because he does still look quite a lot like the pictures she's seen, then because the necromancer can definitely see the telltale signs of Raelle written all over his face. It's mostly there in the kind drop of his eyelids, and the way his mouth creates tiny wrinkles of soft skin when he smiles, but it's there, nonetheless.

"Yes, we are, nice to meet you, Mr. Collar." Scylla greets, settling down her bag to shake his hand.

"Of course, it's amazing to finally meet you. Raelle talked you up a storm," he declares, chuckling proudly, "only good things, I assure."

"Oh, I'm sure I don't deserve that." She let's out, hoping it sounded more playful than it feels for her.

"Nonsense. You seem like a kind girl." The man decides, with a solemn nod, before turning to Tiffany, "and you- Tiffany, I'm very happy to have you with me this week as well, I'm sure we'll have lots of fun together."

"Thank you, Mr. Collar." The small blonde replies, half-hiding herself behind Scylla's pant leg.

"Let's go then. It's getting cold." Edwin finally declares, taking Scylla's bag from the floor without a question. The girl goes to complain, but he cuts her off before she can - "and don't fight me on this. Raelle also never let's me carry her bags, for once I'd love to help."

Scylla still wants to protest. Mostly because she feels that they have already asked so much - and she doesn't quite deserve the kindness - but he seems sincere, so she nods instead, and with the affirmative, all three begin their way to the parking lot.

"Is Raelle your friend?" Tiffany asks innocently, skipping happily over her boots.

"Uh- she- yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Well, you said we were going to a friend's dad's house." Tiffany notes. "Where is Raelle then?"

"About that-" Edwin stops in his step, "did you see her? How is she?" He asks, an uneasy tension settling over his demeanor as he studies Scylla for answers, "they told me she was alive but that was it-"

"She's okay. I saw her yesterday, she was well." The brunette assures, and that seems to send a wave of relief over the man, who breathes deeply before continuing their walk along the various cars.

"Oh, thank goodness." He sighs, "when those people took her I thought- I'm so glad she's okay."

"Yeah. We were all worried." Scylla declares. And this, she can relate to. The way he cares so much for Raelle, it spills into the very movement of his expressions. It's familiar, and it warms her heart. She decides right then that she likes Edwin.

"Did the bad people take Raelle too?" Tiffany questions, frowning in scared surprise as they reach Edwin's old truck.

Scylla sighs, not having revealed much of the mission she'd gone on the day before. She knew it'd be scary for her. Tiffany was still very much traumatized, and rightfully so, after everything she'd been through. But Tiffany was also very smart- and observant. She'd catch up eventually and Scylla feels stupid for not dealing with this before coming.

"Yeah. They tried to hurt her, but me and her other friends didn't let them." The necromancer assures, as she helps the girl into the backseat and clicks in her seatbelt, "she's okay now. We're all safe here."

"Oh- Okay." Tiffany nods, but Scylla can see the doubt shining under her eyes.

Scylla wishes she knew what to say, but words fail her, so she squeezes the girl's hand reassuringly once more, winking in what she hopes is humorous solidarity, before closing the door.

***

Raelle's house is just like she imagines- small, rustic - surrounded by a thick canopy of trees and bushes. It reminds her of the places she used to stay with her parents, scattered over random cities all over the U.S. Scylla likes it.

"It isn't much, but we always have warm dinner and pancakes in the morning." Edwin quips, humbly, as he leads the pair of witches to Raelle's room, "you can stay here. Hope it is comfortable."

"This is more than enough, Edwin." Scylla smiles gratefully, "it's too much, really. Thank you for letting us stay."

"Nonsense." He waves his hand with a half embarrassed chuckle, "It's good to have people here again. After Rae and Tally left everything feels a lot quieter." Scylla nods in agreement, as the man turns to leave the room, the two witches inside watching him carefully, "You guys should change and rest a bit- I'll call you for dinner.

Scylla thanks him, and waits until the door clicks behind his back to turn her attention to the luggage that had been settled over a random chair. The room is filled with so much Raelle, she can't help but notice the letters, pictures, memories and song lyrics, glued to every single wall, from a time before Fort Salem, before them.

The blonde used to leave notes on her dorm walls back at Fort Salem. Lots of silly things like "I'll be back after training" or "You fight people in your sleep. It's cute.". Scylla wonders if they are still there or if they've been taken by the army when she was captured. It doesn't matter anymore, the necro realizes, and she shakes her head in an effort to bring her attention back to the room.

"You should put on some pajamas." Scylla says toward Tiffany, who sat, grievously quiet, at Raelle's bed.

She looked thoughtful, in a way regular six year olds don't quite show unless they have to go through way too much. Her small, bright eyes hide barely concealed darkness as she shifts her looks everywhere but at the older witch.

Scylla sighs, finding this place - this relationship - so very painfully familiar. She'd been the scared little girl last time, feeling so very small and alone. And now, as the adult, she was definitely going to try her best not to fuck it. As difficult as it might be. The world didn't need another suffering witch.

After a few minutes of silence, Scylla realizes she was not going to get an answer, so she opens the girl's backpack and fishes out a pair of mermaid themed leggings and t-shirt, along with the small bag that carried her tooth and hair brushes along with some other toiletries. Scylla places the items by Tiffany on the mattress, kneeling in front of the young witch and studying her clear, soft little face.

"Hey. Are you feeling alright?"

"Are the bad men coming here to hurt us?" Tiffany asks, instead of a response, and Scylla frowns in worry.

"No, of course no-"

"They came and took Raelle too." Tiffany notices, tears escaping from her eyelids that Scylla dries up with her thumb, "and they hurt Miss Willa, the other kids' at the office and my mommy and daddy. What if they come here again? What if they really hurt us this time?" As the questions stumble out of her mouth, sobs begin to wreck across her throat until she's shaking, ever so slightly, with the force of her tears and heavy, panicked breathing.

Scylla sighs and rises from the ground to cuddle the girl close to her chest, squeezing tight until she can feel Tiffany's little arms squeeze her back. Scylla's afraid too - most of the time, if she allowed herself to be honest - Ever since watching Raelle leave her in that cell the year before, the girl could feel even more perfectly the path of death and destruction that marked their (the witches') way through the world.

One of the bad things about being a necro - Death didn't like not being known, and it showed itself insistently, to anyone able to notice.

"We don't know whether or not they'll come again." Scylla ends up responding, sincerely, as she squeezes her arms even tighter around the little girl, "but I won't let them hurt you, you hear me? I dealt with them before, I can deal with them again."

"No" Tiffany shakes her head, frowning up at her in teary-eyed fear, "You too. You're safe too. I don't want you to get hurt either."

"Hey." Scylla forces out a chuckle, trying to lighten up the situation for the young witch's sake, "don't be silly, ok? I'm pretty much invincible."

Tiffany doesn't laugh, her breathing having somewhat returned to normal. The girl just stares back at Scylla with a seriousness that's all too unfair, coming from a six year old, and she reaches out, her pinky finger lifted in expectation, "Pinky promise you'll be safe too? Please?"

Scylla knows she shouldn't. The truth is, she doesn't know what will happen. After their plan to capture Nicte was said and done, Scylla barely had any idea what she would be doing now. But Tiffany obviously needs the reassurance, from the way she stares ever so desperately at the necro's face.

"Okay, I pinky promise." Scylla smiles, trying to convey some calm toward the other girl as she let her pinky link with the smaller one. It seems to work, as Tiffany's expression softens and her tense posture falls, "now let's get you under a shower and into some pajamas, ok? You're a very smelly little witch right now."

"Am not!" Tiffany replies, and Scylla can't help but full on laugh this time, pulling the small girl to Raelle's bathroom as she mockingly protests.

Second chapter is almost done, just needs to be read over for mistakes. For C2, Raelle calls home, Scylla meets old dodger friends and she also has an important conversation with Edwin.

Hope you guys enjoyed!

[hoodoo12]

Play and Funtime

I’ve seen lots of screenshots and fanart, but where is the written Robofizz smut?  sigh  Just have to do it myself jk jk

Although writing your first fic in a new fandom is nerve-wracking, I’m excited to do it and I hope you guys like it.

NSFW; Robofizz/imp!reader, TENTACLES YOU THIRSTY PEOPLE

@go-commander-kim @monsterlovinghours @mimiscappinisideblog @jesterfestivle @beetlebitchywitch @realmonsterboyhours @yankyo

Enjoy! `

It wasn’t your choice. You were clear on that.

But coerced by so-called ‘friends’ you found yourself in the very front row in front of the stage, with excited, chattering implings around you and excited, chattering friends on either side, all eagerly waiting for the show to start. You’d even been forced to enter the big top early, “to get the best seats!”, so now you were a combination of both bored and a wee bit anxious.

That clown always unnerved you.

The sparks, the glitches, the unnatural movements that were much more fluid than you thought should be possible--if anything was impossible here, with enough imagination or lacking that, determination and money--the AI that seemed a little bit too good . . . the Robotic Fizzarolli was not your idea of family entertainment. 

But here you were. You vowed to keep your head down during the show, to avoid seeing the robot and his animatronic backup band, then when it was over you could all leave and go do something actually fun.

When the lights went down you dropped your chin. Everyone else was cheering, so no one would notice you were not. 

Just as you remembered from your early imphood, the spotlight lit up and the Robotic Fizzarolli burst onto the stage in full song. The rest of the audience clapped and sang along. You remained steadfast in your resolve to just wait this out, your eyes locked on your clasped hands in your lap. 

Which meant you were completely taken off guard when a hand slipped under your chin and lifted your head. 

You found yourself face to face with the robot, who was focused solely on you, grinning widely, showing a large number of sharp teeth. 

“N-n-not having f-fun?” it asked.

“Wha-what? N-no--I mean yes,” you stuttered in surprised response, inadvertently sounding like you had a glitch as well. 

The robot cocked its head a bit too far to be natural, its optic sensors giving nothing away while it studied you. The crowd in the stands, including your friends, were watching with breathless anticipation. 

“I th-think you could be having a better t-t-time,” the Robotic Fizzarolli concluded, but to your immense relief, it released your chin and returned to the stage to finish its number, to the return of screams and cheers of delight. 

Soon after, the curtain closed and you sighed in relief. Loudly, you told your group, “You got your show. Now let’s get out of here.” “No, look, look!” the imp next to you exclaimed. “You got a token!”

Confused, you wrinkled your brow. “A token?” “She got a token!” “She got a token!” The imps you’d come in with crowded around, more excited than during the show. You even saw some of the imps who’d been leaving the tent turn and give you what looked like envious glances. You had no idea what any of this meant. “Look look look!” Finally you had the wherewithal to realize they were talking about something in your hand. It was exactly what they said--a flat, oval token etched on both sides with the jester’s face, and what looked like circuitry embedded in it. Very tiny letters around the edge spelled out, “Robofizz’s Play and Funtime!” You had to squint to read them. You had no idea where it came from. Your friends continued to talk over each other in their excitement.

“Robofizz gave it to you! When he came down and talked to you!” “Oh my gosh--yes! That must have been it!”

“You’re so fucking lucky! I’d kill to get one of those!” All the chatter didn’t make you less confused. The Robotic Fizzarolli must have given it to you somehow? You’d been so startled when it touched you and addressed you directly you had no clue it’d slipped something to you. Your hands had been clasped so tightly you hadn’t noticed the small token. Feeling overwhelmed, you offered it to them. “Then you can have it! Take it!” But as excited as your friends were, they all declined with explanations that it only worked for the imp it was given to, that there was some technology that imprinted on the imp who touched it first, so as jealous as they were, it was useless to them. You had never heard about anything like this before, but then again, you always bolted out the exit when the show was barely over.

Still feeling overwhelmed and now lost and stupid, you asked, “What do I do with it?”

“You get to go backstage and meet Robofizz!” 

That was something you did not want to do, but your friends would have none of that loser talk. They insisted you were selected, it was a rare treat, you were not letting them down by pussing out on having a private meet-and-greet with the star of the show! Despite your weak protests, you were herded along to a discreet door hear the stage. They--not you--knocked, and when a small window opened and suspicious eyes appeared, they--not you--told whoever was there that you had a token.

“Show me,” a low voice ordered, though the door. Resigned, you held up the disk.

There was a grunt, and the sounds of multiple locks disengaging. In another moment, the door creaked open. There was no one in the hallway beyond. “Come on, let’s go!” the same voice ordered. Your friends pushed you through the doorway, shouting good luck and have fun! The door slammed shut on them and it same clanking of the locks came again to secure it. It was much more ominous on this side. The hallway was dimly lit with flickering bulbs that seemed ready to die, but there was no where else to go, so you carefully made your way down it. 

⁂

You had no idea where you were supposed to go or what you were supposed to be doing. Keeping hold of the token so tightly your fist hurt, you figured it had gotten you past the door so it would get you past anyone or anything else that may ask what the hell you were doing here. But there was no one to be found. In the wavering overhead lights you wandered up some stairs and found yourself on stage, behind the curtain. The animatronic band was silent on their stands, creepier when immobile and staring than when they were booted up to perform, which you had never imagined could be the case. 

The Robotic Fizzarolli was not with them. That surprised you. If these robots were here, where was the star of the show? Chills went down your spine and with a horrible thought, you glanced up into the catwalks above the stage, as if expecting to see it there like a spider waiting to drop onto its prey. 

Nothing. 

“Hello?” you finally called. 

Nothing. 

You started back towards the hallway, thinking this was a mistake. Your soft footsteps echoed oddly in the silence. You would leave and tell your friends there was nothing, that you knew it was all a waste of time. 

“H-hello there. Wel-wel-welcome!” 

Startled, you spun fast enough to trip, and were caught by the robot that haunted your nightmares. 

It leered as it groped you into standing stead on your feet again. “You were the-the one who wasn’t having fun at my sh-show! I’m so-so-so glad you decided to join me!” Your tongue was stuck to the roof of your mouth but you managed to babble, “I wasn’t--I mean, your show was fine, it was good--” A glitchy, mechanical tsk cut you off. “No, no, no--I c-can tell. And th-that’s no good, not having fun. You seemed like you needed a little ex-extra convincing, and I’m pro-pro-programed to accommodate.”

You were sure your friends would know exactly what that might mean, but the leer had not left the robot’s face and it sounded more sinister than anything. You had seen the signage about “Peronal Companion”, but never spent too much time thinking about it--

It seemed to be waiting for a response. “I, uh . . .” You cleared your throat. “I have . . . a token?”

If it was even possible, the light of its eyes shone even brighter at the sight of you holding the disk. “Now those are fun,” it exclaimed, “for both of us. Let’s g-go.” Without another word and without warning, you were dragged deeper into the gloom further backstage. You stumbled to keep up, but that didn’t slow the robot down. There were turns down hallways that seemed to go on longer than should be possible for an amusement part theater, but finally, when you were out of breath and completely turned around, you were hauled to a stop outside another door. 

“Before w-we go in, g-g-giving or re-receiving?”

The glitches in its voice made it even more difficult to understand what the hell it was saying. Several moments passed while you untangled the question in your head. The Robotic Fizzarolli waited with mechanical patience and an unsettling stillness, although its eyes never left yours. “Uhmm . . .” The token had been given to you, like a gift, so would it be odd to ask for more? But you were the guest here. “ . . . receiving? I guess?” That leer returned to its face. There was a faint clicking noise, as if something was shifting inside the robot’s body, and it said, “Excel-excellent choice.”

It opened the door and ushered you inside. 

The room was designed for imps in mind. Well, imps of a certain predilection. Whips, handcuffs, ankle cuffs, ball gags, harnesses, various sizes of dildos--also in various shapes--hung neatly on the walls. Some wooden contraption with shackles at various points stood in a corner. There was a bench that looked as though it could be raised to various heights with the same shackles, but also a split for a tail to fit through if the imp secured on it was on their back. There were other instruments and adornments you had no name for, as your eyes swept the room.

“D-don’t l-look so worried,” the robot assured you, although you weren’t reassured in the least. “All that is only if-if it’s chosen. The selection is com-completely randomized.” You tore your eyes away from the implements in the room. “What do you mean?” “The-the-the token. Put it in the slot, and we’ll see wh-what prize you get.” That made little to no sense, till you realized Robofizz indicated a small slot on its side. Carefully, you raised your hand and pushed the token into it, which made the robot give a full body twitch like an extra jolt of electricity ran through it. You jerked your hand back; the sparks that flew from it haphazardly were one of the things you disliked most about it. 

There was a clanking noise, like the token was hitting and bouncing off things inside its body, plus a odd, whirring noise. You realized a panel on its chest was actually a screen, and something was spinning inside it. It was a blur, but gradually began to slow enough that you could see whatever it was had words etched on it. Now it was slow enough you could read them as they moved into and out of the screen. bdsm tentacles

vibration

Round and round they went. The words continued to flick past, gradually becoming slower and slower.

With a dawning that took you way too long, it became apparent whatever the last word was going to be was the decision. Maybe other imps or demons would use the Robotic Fizzarolli as personal companion and know exactly what they wanted, but there was also a randomizer feature to keep things lively!

The robot continued to stand eerily still as this continued. It was like both of you were holding your breath in anticipation.

The roller slowed enough to halt. The final outcome that you weren’t even sure you were prepared for blinked on and off in tiny white lights on his chest--

“Tentacles,” Robofizz announced.

⁂

“Tentacles?!” you squeaked. 

You got a nod in response. “A very pop-pop-popular feature. Would you like to remove your clothing, or simply re-relax and let me do all the w-work?” “But-but . . . there’s no bed or--” you cast your eyes around the room again, looking for anything that would lend weight to your argument that maybe just a simple handshake and an autograph would suffice. “No bed n-n-needed,” Robofizz countered. “I am designed to not need to sit or lay down, and-and I am pro-programmed to support you in m-multiple positions.” He was between you and the door, and now the aforementioned tentacles made their appearance, slipping out from some unknown port in his back. They were striped and limber, flexing as though they’d been kept in too small an area for too long and needed to work out the kinks. That couldn’t be the case, being a machine, so all you could figure was that it was designed to imitate life. The first of them--you weren’t even sure of their number--moved through the space between you and the robot. “Fizzarolli--” “Oh, such f-formality! No n-n-need for that either, baby.” That was the first time it’d used a pet name, again probably designed to make this all more personable. “Call me Fizz,” he cooed, all the while still showing too many teeth, invading your personal space, and managing to wrap you up with two tentacles. They pulled you into his torso, which wasn’t as cold as you expected it to be. Neither were the tentacles, now that you thought about it. More of them began to nose around you. “Some rules, baby. This can go as hard as you want. J-just say the word. N-n-nothing’s off limits. My-my-my next show is this evening, so you have me-me-me till then . . . you want ex-extra time, you gotta p-pay for it. “Q-Questions?” Dumbly, you shook your head. “Then let’s b-begin.”

⁂

You’d never be able to give enough detail about the encounter. You’d been asked, multiple times, and simply couldn’t put it into words. How could you describe the unusual sensuality of tentacles sliding under your clothing and removing it from you? How could you impress how strong but delicate they were, wrapping around your limbs with the perfect amount of pressure, raising you off your feet so you felt like you were floating? How you could possibly tell them that other tentacles roamed your skin, tickling you, exploring, awakening new erogenous zones you were unware exisited? How could you admit that all of that lasted an indeterminate amount of time, until you were writhing against the restraint, not to get away, now, but to try and pull him--the Robotic Fizzarolli was no longer an genderless it in your mind, but a him--closer while begging for more? When tears filled your eyes at the force of your pleas, he moved in closer to you, almost close enough to kiss. He seemed fascinated by your tears, and from between his sharp teeth came what must be the robot equivalent of a tongue. It lapped at your cheek, collecting the wet. You had no idea what that was all about, but in the next moment couldn’t devote any time to wondering. As promised, Robofizz accommodated. You’d asked, and another tentacle from Robofizz filled you in smooth, firm motion. You arched your back at the pleasurable friction it created inside you.  

How could you continue to admit that your begging didn’t stop, but increased, wanting, no needing more while being fucked suspended in mid-air by an amusement park clown? That the random showers of sparks that you hated before became something you craved, each little spark leaving a mild burn on your skin that didn’t hurt, but only served to make your nerve endings sing out? Or that during it all he’d talked, the rasp and glitching words of dirty encouragement to, “take it deeper” and “you’re soaking w-w-wet” and “gr-greedy little slut”, which only added to the debauchery, that although it was obvious he could and would be rough and aggressive he gave you just what you needed, and all you wanted was more and more and more-- Even after all that, the finale that would be hard for anyone to believe, including yourself if you didn’t experience it: Robofizz telling you, after you’d been wrung dry from countless orgasms, that the tips of his tentacles--and other, specific, parts of his body--were laced with nano-circuitry to simulate nerves, and he could feel every single internal clutch around his tentacle--

The session ended with you sucking on the tips of multiple tentacles, like an assortment of cocks, while still being fucked to a few more orgasms. When you were finally released, your legs were weak and you were drenched between your legs. You’d drooled so much you were laved with spit. It took you a bit of time to collect yourself and get your clothes back on; your hands trembled with residual bliss for long moments. Robofizz, whose tentacles disappeared again, walked you back to the corridor you’d come in. “Five m-m-minutes till showtime,” he told you.

You had no idea if robots had a sense of humor, but you tried anyway. “That was a pretty good show you just put on.” You got that unnatural head cock again, but he grinned and reminded you, 

“You want ex-extra time, you gotta p-pay for it.” “I know,” you replied, already trying to calculate how you could afford to return and book another private “Robofizz’s Play and Funtime!”. You were eager to try out different features. “How do I . . .?” “The-the d-door will remember you. It’s h-his job,” the robot answered your unfinished question, as if it was one he got frequently. You nodded as if you understood, then impulsively stretched upward to kiss him. He wasn’t startled--he was a robot, after all--but you gave him a smile and slipped back through the door to the front of the theater. You had to find your friends. It wasn’t your choice, sitting in the audience to watch a robotic jester entertain a crowd of imps. 

But next time, it would be. 

fin!

[carolmaximoffs]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAIT OMFG i can’t believe so many of the coolest ppl in my life that i know are aquas. ily you’re NINETEEN that’s wild!! you know i love a good roommates or friends w benefits fic gimme gimme gimme 😗💜

a/n: THIS IS SO LATE AGH...here is your long overdue wanda x reader roommates fic, my love! so sorry for the wait, but thank you for your sweet words and your patience <3 @subtlebucky

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

warnings: none really? maybe a curse. references to drinking, partying. jealous! reader. apologies to anyone named jillian, beck, or yasmine. sharing a bed, but not in THAT way. 

WHEN YOU WAKE UP, you smell coffee already brewing. You stretch leisurely as you pad into the main part of your shared apartment, faux-flirtatious smile already gracing your lips.

“Smells good, baby!” You call. The laughter dissipates from your body as you pause in the kitchen doorway. Wanda is indeed sipping coffee in the kitchen, but is also standing between the legs of a tall, rather buff girl you’ve never seen before who’s perched comfortably on your island. “Oh.”

"Jill, this is my roommate, Y/N," Wanda says, perfectly at ease. You wonder if your eye really does twitch at the sight of Wanda's hand on Jill's thigh, but you pray it's just your imagination.

“Hi, uh, I didn’t - we’re not - hi.” Your face burns as you duck past them, reaching up into the cabinet for your mug before realizing it’s missing. You whirl around, about to ask Wanda, when you see it. And Wanda must realize it the same time you do, because she gives you this tight smile and wide eyes. Jill sips idly from your favorite cup, the one with the funny handle and your initial in rainbow gradient. Pietro, Wanda’s brother, had gifted it to you a few Christmas’s back - you know he’d have stopped Jillian from using it. Instead, you fill the most boring mug you and Wanda own - black, with a white outline of Sokovia in a red heart - and send your roommate a sour look. “I’ll just...”

You jerk your head towards the bedrooms, and stalk off. Maybe out of embarrassment, but mostly out of stubbornness, you pretend not to hear Wanda apologizing and making excuses on your behalf as you leave.

.......

Two weeks later, just when things are returning to normal, it happens again.

Well, more or less. It’s significantly darker out now, and this time you’re putting leftover Chinese food in the fridge when the door bursts open. Wanda all but falls into your apartment, a sharp-nosed girl with a deep violet buzzcut hot on her heels. Space Army Cadet and your best friend are hand in hand, the latter barely tossing you a glance as she drags her guest down the hall. And yeah, you’ve seen Wanda bring people home before - even brought a handful of people home yourself. Hell, one of you two’s closest friends was an ex of hers; oddball physics major, Vis, had been Wanda’s lover for the notable first three years of college.

 Lately, though, you’d noticed this...pit in your stomach, carved a little deeper with each new bedmate. Every time you shook it off - it wasn’t any of your business what Wanda did in her free time. Was it because they were women? You catch yourself wondering, but no - you’d never had an issue with that, why would you start now? Shutting the fridge, you shuffle back to your room, turning your TV up to drown out anything from Wanda’s room next door.

The next morning, the eccentric friend is nowhere to be found, but you did find there was a severe lack of alcohol in your coffee as Wanda cheerily filled you in. Buzzcut’s name was Yasmine, she was in Wanda’s European lit. course, and they’d gone out for drinks to celebrate Yasmine nearing the acquirement of her masters. You stare into your cup and hum at all the appropriate points, choosing not to point out that it was only November and nowhere near graduating season. Maybe Yasmine was on the fast track - Wanda always did like the smart ones. 

You become so absorbed in thought you don’t notice at first that your housemate has stopped chittering away. When you look up, it’s to a pouty frown. You shift in your seat, suddenly uncomfortable. “What?”

“Are you...okay?” Wanda’s frown deepens, brows furrowed as she brushes a stray lock of auburn from her face and folds her arms over her chest. “We...You’ve been a little distant lately, I guess.” 

“I’m fine,” You say breezily, rising to your feet to dump the dregs of your coffee in the sink. Some irritating heartstring twangs at your tone - you hate brushing Wanda off, but what are you supposed to say? Hey, can you stop bringing girls home? I think I’ve caught homophobia. You repress a shudder at the mere thought as you move to sweep past her and get ready for your first class, but a small hand curls around your bicep.

“Just...don’t be a stranger, okay, kedvesem?” Darling. Swallowing the lump in your throat, feeling curiously parched, you can only nod. Wanda lets go, but you can feel her fingerprints burning like a brand even when you’re lying in bed that night.

.....

The holidays go off more or less without a hitch; there’s a very scary hiccup shortly before Christmas when you come home to find Wanda curled into Vision’s side on the couch, the pair of them sharing a blanket. But Wanda looks...as if she’s been crying? Love Actually is playing, Wanda’s go to Christmas comfort movie, and Vision is texting someone called ‘Peter M.’ with an alarming number of heart emojis, so you continue onward. 

Your subconscious must be looking out for you otherwise, because it’s not until New Year’s that you see Wanda with a mystery lover. Actually, you don’t see much of Wanda at all outside of Christmas, and even when you do, it’s always just the two of you at home. Of course, because of this, she insists on dragging you out for a New Year’s party. When her twin, Pietro, gangs up on you via Facetime, you give up arguing and steal a shimmery black slip from Wanda’s closet before flipping them the bird. 

Pietro arrives around 10 to pick the pair of you up, obnoxiously laying on the horn outside of your apartment building. Wanda trips several times as she tries to shove on her other heel and put lipstick on at the same time. Making it out the door is a whole other ordeal - after a short spat about Wanda needing a jacket, an awkward moment when the elevator doors open on some neighbors practicing for midnight, and finding Pietro just about to buzz in to get you, you and Wanda are sliding into the backseat of Pietro’s obnoxiously cramped sports car.

“Ladies, your prince, or princess, awaits!” Pietro announces grandly as you pull up to a shabby loft just a few blocks away. You can hear the music from the street, sighing inwardly as you force yourself to get out of the car. Wanda smooths out her flowy black pants - you keep your eyes trained politely above her shoulders to ignore the fitted, maroon sequined top with the plunging V-neck she’s paired with them. 

“I’m actually meeting someone here,” She says casually to her brother as the three of you make your way in. Pietro waves her off with well-wishes, but throws you a questioning glance. All he gets however is a shrug in reply, this is certainly news to you. He accompanies you to the makeshift bar where you fill a cup with copious amounts of liquor. It usually wasn’t your vice, but the strobe lights alone could be cause to drink. You made a mental note to ask whose idea this party even was in the first place. when you turn around, though, Pietro, too, has slipped off into the crowd.

So you do what one is supposed to do at sweaty, too-loud functions such as this one - push yourself from your comfort zone, get comfortably tipsy while you wedge yourself into the mass of bodies and move with strangers. As mentioned, liquor and strangers have never been favorite pastimes of yours, so once you finish off your second drink (maybe third - you deserved it), you set out searching for Wanda. Her glittery form is tucked into a corner with a small group you don’t recognize, but you definitely note that she’s in the lap of a tall, dark, and handsome type. She spots you before you can get to her, making excited grabby hands as you get closer. 

“Y/N!” The bubbly young woman squeals over the music. She leans forward to be heard better, and you gulp. “This is Beck! And Jade, and Marcie, and you remember Yasmine!” 

You offer only a wave and tight smiles as you, too, lean in further. “I’m gonna get an Uber!”

“What?” Wanda pouts dramatically, Beck snaking an arm around her waist to steady her as she jolts back in disappointment. “It’s not even midnight yet!”

“No, I know, I’m just not really feeling it, I guess!” Yasmine leads over to whisper something to Jade; it’s the furthest thing from your mind as Wanda reaches out to squeeze your hands understandingly. 

“I’ll see you later! Kisses!” You repeat the word weakly before shoving once more through the mass. The sidewalk and cool bite of the outdoors is a welcome respite - your driver doesn’t speak all the way to your apartment, and you give them 5 stars for it. After a cold, quick shower, you curl up in your fuzziest bathrobe with a cup of coffee and flick through Netflix. You know when midnight rolls around when the neighbors upstairs, hosting a party of their own, cheer and shout to each other. It can’t be 20 minutes later that your door is met with a tentative knock.

On the other side is Vision in the most disarray you’ve seen him in - he’s in pajamas, for Pete’s sake, hair and glasses askew over a chunky knit sweater. He’s supporting an equally-bleary but much more drunk Wanda, and passes her to you with a wrinkled nose.

“Y/N!” She crows, dissolving into giggles as you shushed her. “I wondered where you went.” 

“I told you I was coming home, bubs,” You mutter, hugging her back briefly before you notice Vision is still standing in your entryway. “Hey, how about you go get changed, and then I’ll make you some eggs?”

Wanda agrees, talking animatedly even as she walks away. You look back at Vision, smiling wearily. “Thanks for bringing her home safe, Vis. Did you want a cup of coffee, or...?”

“No, thank you,” Vision quips, polite as ever as he tugs his sweater down over his hands. He jerks his dimpled chin the direction Wanda had disappeared in. “Take care of her, please.”

“Of course,” You reply, instantly, brows furrowing. He nods briskly before turning to leave. “Thank you again.”

“Of course. Goodnight.” He’s almost to the elevators when you call a ‘Happy New Year’ after him, and that earns you a smile. “Happy New Year to you as well, Y/N.”

Back inside, you find Wanda spread eagle on her bed in mismatched socks, an old college hoodie, and the same underwear you’re pretty sure she wore to go out tonight. You poke her heel and she makes a frankly unhuman gurgle into the duvet. “How much did you have?”

“Nah a lah,” Is her muffled reply. “We’on dwink anymo’.” 

You realize she’s right, though you figured she was at least taking some of those dates to bars. Maybe not, though - Wanda was always a romantic. You push the mere though away and tug at the arm closest to you. “Yeah, I know. You’ll feel better if you eat something, though.” 

Her protesting grunts are less effective than when she kicks out blindly, narrowly avoiding your hip, and you huff. “Fine, I’ll bring the food to you.”  You make to leave, but she’s captured your wrist now. Wanda turns her head to make powerful puppy eyes at you. “Stay. Sleepy.” 

“I...yeah. Okay.” You were still a little tipsy in your own right - neither of you were college kids anymore, after all. Wanda’s smile was blinding as the pair of you made your way under her numerous layers of blankets. When she turned the lamp off, you wondered if she could hear your heart thundering in the dark.

“Y/N?” She whispers, just when you think she’s fallen asleep. 

“Yes, Wanda?” 

“I love you.”

You hum in acknowledgment, brushing it off as dreaming.

--------

Midday, you’re roused by someone laying across your stomach and shaking you awake. It’s Wanda, long lashes fluttering prettily as she rests her chin on folded elbows. You scrub sleep from your eyes as you croak, “Morning, sunshine.”

“Morning, Y/N.” She says your name with purpose - sort of always has, you realize. You’re running over last night in your head, and like a mind reader, Wanda answers your every question. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Still love you.” Wanda murmurs. You meet her gaze - completely clear, if not a little glazed over with absolute adoration. She pushes up a little, lips hovering over yours. They brush just barely when you speak, sparking like live wires. 

“I love you, too,” You breathe, and finally, finally, she kisses you. 

Things make so, so much more sense then.

[charming-charlie]

Washed Away pt. 5

Title // Washed Away pt. 5

Pairing // Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings // Mentions of death and a missing kid.

Summary // Who knew hanging out with Buck and Christopher for a day would lead to a life or death situation?

Word Count // 2.5k

Prompt // Hi! Can i request a fic where you were with Buck & Christopher when the tsunami hit? They could be dating or crushing on each other. If nothing comes to mind, then it’s completely fine to ignore this request! Have a nice day!’

Author’s Note // This is the final part of the Washed Away series. || Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

Tagged List // @aprildecker-blog​​​ @coffeewithoutcaffeine​​​ @daddysfavoritesexkitten​​​ @chenfordlove​​​ @comeasyoudar​​​ @carnationworld​​​ @averyhotchner​ @evanbuckos​​

The sun had set. The day was over, but that doesn’t mean the situation is. You and Buck had been wading through the water for hours, heading to the last place someone said they saw Christopher.

Exhaustion was starting to settle in. You were sore all over too. It felt like you just finished running up and down a flight of stairs non-stop while carrying a bookbag full of weights. Your shoulders hurt, your legs felt like they were going to give out any time soon, and your body was so dehydrated from soaking up and drinking in a lot of saltwater that you pretty much felt delirious.

Finally, civilization was within reach.

A makeshift help spot was set up near the bakery where you and Buck were headed. Water bottles were being passed out and you reached out to grab one. How could something so common look so precious, like it was made of gold?

You twisted off the cap and downed half of it in three big gulps and handed the rest of it to Buck. He finished off the water, nearly gasping for breath by the end. He was exhausted too. You didn’t even know how long you two were walking and the little help was most appreciated.

The people around you looked worse for wear. You couldn’t imagine the struggles they went through to try and save themselves or what their story could be. You were sure it was similar. Everyone lost someone or something in the tsunami and you knew it was going to be hard to get over that.

Then again, did you really want to?

The whole event gave you a new outlook on life and appreciate what you have. You didn’t appreciate your job enough, but you were grateful now. You were a school nurse and you realized you love those kids that you looked after. You loved Christopher, having seen him and checked on him many times thanks to his worrisome father, and it would break your heart to never see that little boy again.

Now is not the time to think about those things. You didn’t know for sure. Let’s not focus on the what ifs.

For a moment, Buck swore he saw Christopher. He saw a little boy clinging to the leg of some woman, and he let out a relieved sigh, only for his eyes to play tricks on him. It wasn’t Christopher at all.

“Mister, are you okay? You’re bleeding,” a nearby passerby said, and Buck glanced down at his hand.

Sure enough, he was.

There was a cut of some kind, and the two of you didn’t even realize it. You frowned, mentally kicking yourself and cursing yourself out for not realizing Buck’s injury. The ex-firefighter sat down, looking worse for wear and you grabbed his hand carefully while examining it.

You ripped off a strip of your shirt to use as a bandage and Buck’s eyes sort of glazed over. Due to his adrenaline, he probably wasn’t feeling any pain.

“What am I gonna do?” Buck whispered as you tended to him, “how am I gonna tell Eddie?”

You said nothing, because you knew whatever you did say wouldn’t exactly be helpful. However, you were there. Side by side, you were there with Buck and Christopher today and everything Buck did was for that little boy. You never seen someone care so much the way Buck does. He has such a good heart and for once, you were hoping against hope that things would work out in his favor. He didn’t deserve this.

After a bit of a break, including some water to get both of your heads on straight, you two were back to the grind. This time, you didn’t have to walk for long.

There was an old mall or hospital, you couldn’t be sure, that somehow turned into a makeshift triage center not too far from where you and Buck were. The two of you practically dashed over to the building and its tents, being careful since there wasn’t a lot of strength left between you.

Buck was looking in the beds, glancing around for anyone that even remotely passed Christopher. You hijacked a few clipboards, searching for Christopher’s name anywhere you can but you both came up empty.

“Eddie dropped Christopher off with me,” Buck began talking to you and you could hear the defeat in his voice. It sounded like he was fighting the feeling of giving up, but he was on the cusp. “He thought it would get me out of my apartment and… out of my head. And you know what I did? I brought him to the pier. I had him, I kept him safe. And then the three of us were on top of the ladder truck and the water receded, and for a moment I felt like I got this. I had you, I had Christopher, and we would be fine. And now Christopher is gone. We checked everywhere. And now I realize I failed. I’m a failure no matter how you look at it.”

You could hear your heart cracking as you listened to him, and you knew nothing you said would change his mind. He was beating himself up over this situation. He did everything he could, and he was still handed the short end of the stick.

Finding Christopher at the makeshift hospital was the last bit of hope he had and now it was gone. You could see the defeat that wavered in his voice and how it hid behind his eyes.

And if that didn’t help the situation, there was Eddie Diaz, tending to a few patients himself. He wore blue latex gloves, had the navy fire uniform on, and was directing a few people into the hospital. Buck nearly choked back a sob as the realization of what to do next was hitting him faster than a wall of bricks.

He had to tell Eddie, and you were going to be right by his side when he did.

However, Buck dashed behind a white tent, pulling you along with him. Turns out he wanted to hide instead of face Christopher’s father.

“Buck,” you said slowly. Your voice was hoarse from lack of water and from shouting Christopher’s name all afternoon with Buck. You felt like your vocal cords were ripped to shreds at this point, but you soldiered on. Now was not the time to accept defeat. “You have to tell him.”

“How?” Buck answered as he looked at you. His hand slowly slipped into your own, and you squeezed his fingers tightly. “How do you tell your best friend that you lost his son?”

“He’s his father. You have to tell him that Christopher is missing,” you said, knowing this was the only chance he had right now.

Buck shook his head, not wanting to hear it. “No, I need to keep looking for him. I need to find him.”

One of your hands instinctively went up to the side of Buck’s face, caressing him lightly. You still couldn’t believe the man in front of you wasn’t giving up just yet, even though maybe he should. You hated the train of thought you were currently on, but Buck was exhausted, and he lost some blood. Plus, it didn’t help that he was severely dehydrated, much like yourself. The two of you were in no condition to continue searching. You probably wouldn’t make it if you tried. You both needed to rest up and regain your strength.

“Buck,” you heard the voice before you saw who it belonged to and your head whipped around to see Eddie. The man was heading outside to continue helping and he looked a bit surprised to see his best friend standing there. Then his eyes fell on you, and the look of surprise seemed to double. “Nurse Y/N, what are you both doing here? Are you okay? Wait, where’s Christopher?”

There was no time to prepare a giant speech. Eddie Diaz was right there in front of you both, and it was now or never. You let go of Buck as you turned to face the father of one of your favorite patients, ready for what was about to happen. This was a conversation you were dreading, and you couldn’t imagine the internal conflicts Buck must be going through as he mustered up the courage to say what happened.

“Eddie…” Buck interjected in between Eddie’s many questions, and the army vet stopped talking.

For a moment, the two best friends stared at each other, like Buck was hoping Eddie would get the hint without saying anything, but you knew that would be the cowardly way out. If there was one thing you learned today, it was that Buck was not a coward. Not now, not ever.

“Me and Christopher… we were at the beach, and I swear to you…” Buck was choking on his words and you squeezed his hand again for support.

Eddie was nodding, trying to understand, but the look on his face was heartbreaking. It was like if he didn’t hear it, it wouldn’t be true.

“I tried… and I just… but I… Eddie, I just don’t know how to say it. Um, he… he um…” Buck couldn’t get through it. He was stumbling over the words and Eddie’s eyes were brimming with the threat of tears as Buck tried to get the words out.

What made it even worse was that Eddie couldn’t even look at Buck. The army vet was looking behind his best friend, like he needed to avoid eye contact with what Buck was saying.

“Christopher?” Eddie questioned softly, like he needed clearance on what Buck was saying, but your gaze followed Eddie’s. A woman had stepped off a truck, carrying a small child. Your heart almost stopped, and you pulled on Buck’s arm to get him to stop talking.

Eddie slowly walked past you and Buck, and he approached the woman. Slowly, Buck turned around to follow Eddie feeling like this was Eddie’s way of coping with denial.

“Christopher?” Eddie called again, and like music to your ears, you heard the little boy shout for his dad.

The woman was carrying Christopher the entire time, bringing him to safety. Tears exploding out of your eyes once you realized what was going on and you stole a glance at Buck. Buck looked elated, like he was about to cry from relief as well. Christopher was alive and in Eddie’s arms, and there was no greater feeling than that.

“Buck, what happened to you?”

Suddenly, the fire crew of Station 118 popped into view. You didn’t know them personally, but you could venture a guess who from all the stories Christopher was told you during his visits to your little office at the school.

Captain Bobby Nash stood in front of the two of you, and he looked deeply concerned. He looked back and forth from you to Buck before asking, “Are you two okay?”

However, your exhaustion was caving in, along with Buck’s. The two of you practically collapsed to the floor and the fire family scrambled to hold onto both of you. That was the last thing you remembered, passing out next to Buck in the arms of his old crew.

It took a while, but the city was in clean up mode. You and Buck had a nice, extended stay at the hospital, hooked up to fluids and oxygen before given a clean bill of health. You were discharged first, since Buck had some lacerations that needed stitching up but the two of you texted nonstop while he regained his strength.

You went back to your job as the nurse at the elementary school, although you also became sort of a guidance counselor to the kids. Turns out, when you were checking for lice or fevers, they needed someone to talk to and you could just relate to them in a way. You were a familiar face in all the chaos, someone they needed to hold onto in order to make sense of things.

Christopher’s appointments never stopped either. In fact, they seemed to be increasing, only because Christopher wanted to talk to you and hang out with you.

“Honestly Eddie, he’s doing fine,” you spoke to Eddie on the phone about his son. You were sitting at your desk, making your daily calls to parents and Eddie Diaz was no stranger to the phone calls. “He’s in good spirits. Nothing is wrong with him, he’s pretty perfect.”

“You know, I never got to thank you,” Eddie’s voice crackled in your ear, “for what you did. Christopher told me how you and Buck saved him, and you have no idea how much I appreciate that.”

The two of you hung up, although there was promises of talking tomorrow. Talking to Eddie was a recurring thing in your life at this point, and you could use the stability.

“Knock knock,” a head peeked into your office, “these came for you.”

The secretary opened your door and placed a bouquet of colorful roses on you desk. There was a white card attached, looking strikingly clean in the middle of the rainbow of flowers.

You pulled off the card and it only said two words.

Come Outside.

Curiously, you stood up and grabbed your stethoscope, draping it around your neck. You never went anywhere without it now, and you weren’t sure what kind of situation you were getting yourself into. You rounded a corner and pushed open the heavy steel door that led to the front of the school. There, standing in all his glory, was Evan Buckley with the most beautiful smile you had ever seen.

“Thank you very much for the flowers,” you said as you smiled at him in return. “Why didn’t you tell me you were out of the hospital. I would’ve sent you some breakfast or something.”

“That’s part of the surprise. So, surprise!” Buck said happily as he approached you.

You just smiled at him, letting his arms snake around your waist as he hugged you tightly. Your arms draped around his neck and it felt so good. It felt familiar.

As you pulled away, you were greeted with something else. Buck, with no hesitation whatsoever, leaned in and captured your lips in a sudden and welcomed kiss. It was all you wanted, all you were waiting for, and you let yourself melt into his arms as he kissed you with such force and determination, you knew you would be a puddle of goo by the end of it.

“Let me take you out on a date,” Buck whispered against your lips, his lips brushing over yours with each and every word, “a real one this time. Just me and you.”

Your heart felt like it would leap out of your chest and you couldn’t manage to bring any words out. Instead, you nodded as you leaned in to kiss him again.

This was all you wanted. You’ve never been happier. You finally had the moment you wanted with Buck and now, a date on the horizon. With your luck, it would be the first of many, you were sure of it. There was no way you were going to let this man go, ever.

[storiesbymads]

THIS BIKINI’S MADE FORE DANCING (AND HITTING THE FLOOR)³ ( sun kissed desires . )

Y/N finds herself on the lovers cruise she was supposed to be on with her fiancé—ex-fiancé—when she meets a single man in the suite right next to hers.

warnings: smut

add yourself to the taglist + series masterlist

Your morning ventures ended with probably the best mid morning nap you’d ever had in your life. You woke up without a headache, thankfully, and with the way you’d guzzled the water bottle on your nightstand before you’d crashed out, you felt halfway ready to take on the world.

You dug through your duffel bag in an attempt to find one of the twelve bathing suits you’d packed three days ago. Hopefully you’d packed your cute ones, you’d been in such a rush you honestly had no idea what all was in your bag or if anything really matched. Finally, you found a black set at the bottom that was simple enough that it wouldn’t require too many of your brain cells to put on, still being kinda sleepy and everything.

Finding your way to the pool was easy, considering it was in the dead center of the boat. You were surprised to see the number of kids sitting around the edge of the pool when you got down there, feet dangling in the chlorine filled liquid. You glanced down at the phone in your hand to see the time. 12:08. Adult Swim.

You crossed the short expanse of wooden walkway over to the lounge chairs, dropping your few belongings onto the small table beside the single free one you could find before covering your phone and key card with the towel you’d just barely remembered to bring down so the sun wouldn’t wreak too much havoc on them. The chair was surprisingly more comfortable than it looked when you situated yourself on it.

The sound of a whistle sent your head snapping in the direction of the pool only to see a few dozen kids jumping into the water as the few adults scrambled to get out in time.

And, of course, your eyes found Sidney’s in record time. God, how could one man be so pretty? The fact that he was practically dripping wet didn’t help, either.

He had a pair of teal swim trunks on, oddly enough, and they seemed to cling to everything as he climbed out of the water. To you, it felt like he was moving in slow motion, but it probably only took him about thirty seconds before he was walking in your direction. No. Right. To. You.

He shook his head slightly as he did so, attempting to conceal the grin making its way onto his face. God, he’s cute, too.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, louder than the other times you’d spoken with him—you gave that up to the fact that you were outside. He’d still yet to adjust his swim trunks and the tent in them seemed to be staring you right in the eyes.

“Hey, you’re the one that came up to me,” you scoffed dismissively. Sidney just cleared his throat in response, nodding toward his belongings in the seat next to yours. The only thing separating his belongings from yours was the tiny metal table, and even that was covered in your personal items. “Oh.”

“Oh,” he mocked lightly. He opted to sit on the edge of your chair rather than take the last two steps towards his own, the warm skin of his thigh brushing against your own. The barely there touch sent tingles up your spine. You couldn’t imagine what having all of him pressed up against you would feel like.

He picked his hand up off the plastic of the chair, hesitating slightly and letting it rest in the air above your leg for a second too long, before letting his rough fingers meet the smooth skin.

“I’ve been thinking,” he started. “About your offer earlier.”

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as his hand trailed higher up your thigh, dangerously close to the flimsy bow holding the fabric together.

“M-my offer?” you stuttered out.

“Are you sober...” he trailed off, tongue darting out to wet his lips. He was fiddling with the nylon string at this point.

“Y/N,” you hummed out a response. “And, yes. Took a nap and everything.”

“Good,” he said before abruptly getting up so that he could collect his things from his own chair. Your skin felt cold without his touch despite the scalding heat you were being exposed to. He turned back around as he shoved his phone into his still damp pocket, “C’mon, pretty girl. We don’t have all day.”

You practically jumped up from your seat to grab your things, in spite of a chuckling Sidney behind you.

The walk to the lobby happened in what felt like half a second and before you knew it, Sidney had you pressed up against the outside of his room door. Maybe being on the first floor wasn’t such a bad thing.

His hips were pressing into yours, his fingers were bruising against your waist, and his lips. They were everywhere. You don’t even remember when he’d started kissing you, you just know you didn’t ever want him to stop.

He pulled away just enough to leave you panting and chasing his lips.

“I gotta open the door,” he whispered, lips grazing yours as he did so. The door clicked seconds later which allowed the two of you to slip inside only for Sidney to halfway shove your against the other side of the door the second it closed. Your palms fell flat against his exposed chest, slipping lower and lower as the moments passed until you were thumbing the hemline of his shorts.

“Please,” you whimpered out.

“Please, what?” he asked.

“Just. Please,” you answered. His hand found the tie to your top in a matter of seconds, undoing it slowly before repeating the process with the one around your neck and letting it fall to the floor between you.

His lips attached to the column of your throat as his fingers traced the edges of your bottoms. His mouth moved lower and lower until he was circling your left nipple with his tongue.

Stopping suddenly, he rose back up to his full height, motioning for you to jump with two taps on your hip as he lifted it to his waist. He carried you across the short expanse of his room, dropping you on the recently made up comforter of his bed.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” he mumbled before reattaching his lips to yours. He tasted like heaven. There was a faint mint flavor that you chalked up to being his toothpaste mixed with the distinct taste of Minute Maid lemonade and a sweet tea brand you couldn’t identify.

His clothes cock rutted against your core, sending flickers of the sight of him getting out of the pool glittering through your mind again. Those swim trunks left nothing to the imagination.

He shifted lower over your body, tugging your bikini bottoms down in one swift motion and quite literally tossing them over his shoulder.

“Look at you,” he praised. “So pretty and pink and wet for me. You’re dripping all over my sheets, pretty girl.”

One of his digits slipped between your folds, spreading the wetness around as he circled your clit with the pad of his finger.

“I think you’re a little-“ you cut yourself off with a moan when he slipped the finger inside you. “Overdressed.”

“Patience,” he said, inserting another finger into your hole. He curled his fingers in a scissoring motion, eliciting a high pitched gasp to fall from your lips. His thumb quickly found your clit which sent your eyes rolling straight into the back of your head.

“Oh my God,” you whimpered.

“Look at me,” he said. You ignored his comment, head hitting the pillow underneath you only for his movements to stop. “Look at me.”

Your eyes snapped back open.

“I want to see your eyes when you come on my cock,” he said, pulling his fingers from you so that he could shove the teal shorts down his legs just enough for his dick to slap against his stomach.

He grabbed a condom out of his wallet on the nightstand, ripping the packaging open with his teeth before rolling it down the length of his dick.

“Fuck me,” you groaned out as he lined his tip up with your entrance.

“I was planning on it,” he exhaled. He didn’t even give you a second to respond before he pushed in halfway.

“Holy fuck, you’re huge,” you said, unintentionally clenching around him. He shuddered before fully bottoming out.

“And you’re incredibly tight,” he said. It didn’t take him long to find his pace as his hands molded bruises into the sides of your hips.

His lips found your neck soon after, running his teeth lightly along the top of your collarbone as your hands found his hair. You would’ve commented on the softness of it if you had a coherent thought in your head. But all you could think about was the burning pleasure building in the pit of your stomach.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum-“ you repeated like a mantra until your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave.

“I’m right behind you,” he said, hips snapping into yours at an even faster rate. He lasted about two more thrusts before you felt him still inside you. He stayed there for a moment before he pulled out and made his way to the bathroom to dispose of the condom.

The thoughts started rushing into your head before the post-orgasm bliss even had the time to fully wear off. You couldn’t believe you’d just done that. Sure, he was gorgeous and, sure, he was practically the most gorgeous man you’d ever laid eyes on. But you were gonna be stuck living next door to him for the next two weeks.

You were already off the bed and grabbing your things from where they’d been dropped at the door—something you didn’t remember doing in the first place—when you heard Sidney turn the shower on. You had your bikini back on before his eyes hit you again.

“You can join me, if you want,” he said as he watched you scramble around his room from where he was leant up against the ensuite’s door frame.

“As much as I would love to do that, I’ve gotta get going,” you said, throwing open the room door and letting it shut before he could get another word out.

You had other things on your plate, anyway. Current mission: find Sigma. She might not be your best friend in the world, at least, yet, but you needed to tell someone about what just happened.

And judging by the way you’d scrounged what felt like the entire ship at this point—not really, you really only checked like three, very public areas—your mission was proving more impossible than you would’ve liked. Then, when you thought all hope was lost, you remembered the teensy tiny little tidbit of information she’d given you this morning when you were in six mimosas. She was staying in Room 215.

“Y/N! How unexpected,” Sigma said as she opened up her door wide enough to let you in. Her southern charm was seeping through every word and it really was no wonder how she’d already gotten married at 23.

You saw a man laying on the bed, thankfully, fully clothed with a remote control laying on his stomach. You heard a woman’s voice coming from the TV and what sounded like a murder documentary.

Sigma was ushering you out onto her balcony before you had time to really search her and husband’s room any further.

“What’s this surprise visit all about? I thought you’d gotten of me this morning,” she said as the two of you sat in the bolted down, metal chairs out there.

“You know that really hot guy in the room next to mine,” you said.

“No,” she exhaled. Maybe you’d forgotten to mention that this morning. Course, you barely remembered anything you’d mentioned this morning.

“Well,” you started. “There’s a really hot guy in the room right next to mine. And I may or may not have just hooked up with him.”

“You’re kidding!” she gasped.

“I almost wish I was,” you groaned, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“Was it that bad?” she asked with a wince. You looked over at her with a dumbfounded look on your face.

“It was the best sex I’ve had in my life,” you said.

“So, what’s the issue?”

“I don’t know. He’s kinda like my neighbor for right now, and somehow we manage to bump into each other everywhere we go. I just don’t want things to be even more uncomfortable for me on this stupid boat.”

“Honey.”

“I know, I know. It’s dumb,” you sighed. “I’m just not ready to get involved with another guy. Not after what happened with Max,” you said.

“Look, sweetheart. You’re never gonna find someone if you don’t give yourself the chance to open up. And who says this whole thing with your supah hot guy has to go any further than it has. I say if you get the chance, go for it.”

“Get the chance?”

“To have sex again! According to you, it was the best sex, like, ever.”

The next twenty minutes went on like that until Sigma’s husband practically forced her to go back inside and get ready for something. You took that as your cue to leave.

You were glad you’d gone to find her today. As weird as a start that you’d had for your friendship, she was probably one of the easiest people you’d ever had the opportunity of talking to.

The walk back to your room was quick. That was when you realized the only item you currently had in your possession was your phone. And not your key card. You knew you’d had it before the incident with Sidney and you were sure you’d grabbed everything on your way out of Sigma’s room. Which left one option. It was still on Sidney’s floor.

Sighing, you dropped your head in defeat, walking the two steps it took so that you were face to face with the wooden door you were pressed up against over an hour ago. Your hand hovered in the air until you worked up enough courage to actually knock.

“Here for this?” he asked, holding up the white card in one hand after he opened the door just wide enough to see you.

“Yes, thank you,” you said, reaching out to grab it from him only for him to pull it back, inches from your grip.

“You could’ve just gone to the front desk,” he said.

“I-“ you started. “Forgot that was an option.”

“Why are you always wet when we see each other?” you asked with an eye roll as the door swung open.

“Actually, I distinctly remember you being equally as wet when we met earlier,” he said.

“You’re insufferable,” you scoffed.

“And you’re adorable,” he said before actually handing over the key.

“Says the guy that takes hour long showers,” you said.

“I got a little preoccupied.”

“Uh-huh,” you hummed.

“You sure you have to go to your room?” he asked, tantalizingly slow, allowing his words to hang heavy in the air around you as his tongue slipped past his lips. Your eyes stayed glued to the water droplet running down his throat.

“I guess-“

“Well, come on then. Wouldn’t want you getting cold out there, pretty girl,” he said, the hand still holding your key card clasping around your wrist as he pulled you into his chest, and consequently, back into his room.

tags @kiedhara @thefootballfaithful @stuetzlesumlaut @penstxgal1968 @linkingdolans @englishmuffinwritesbooks @mrsvech37 @honeybearbarzal @burningbiatch @hannabritta @monalicia @mymanshawn @butgilinsky @pierreslucdubois @damndunner @klutchnetsov @stampiej @punkharts @heatherawoowoo

[calypsoff3]

Thirty Six.

I am questioning my husband, I am really not understanding what he has packed for, but he has got me sneakers to wear, I say sneakers these are boots. Last night was weird for me, I did want sex but then I felt like he didn’t want it. Then I made him feel like he was inadequate, I feel so bad about it all because I know I made him feel it because I got annoyed “Chris, oh you got first” we said it at the same time, our names “I’m sorry about last night, I just want to wipe the slate clean. I want us to have a good time here, it’s just I feel bad about you Robyn. I do, I hide it a lot, but I feel like shit about what I did to you, the fact I made you faint and yet; you’re here. I get why people hate me; I would hate me too to know I did that, so I just want to start off better. New day, new us, what you think?” Smiling at him lightly “I know you think about what was said, what happened between us but I really, I honestly don’t want you to feel that way because like you said we move on, it’s been a weird journey, a weird time because also with the papers there but yet we haven’t done it, well I haven’t done it. Last night, I felt a little rejected by you, I feel like with your lack of sleep it’s getting to you too” Chris nodded his head “I also have a little secret too” he laughed, a smirk on his face “what is it?” I’m scared to hear “I want to do something different. We should do different things; I don’t know how you going to feel about this because for me this is different too but erm” he laughed out “are you sure this is for my birthday” he is laughing so hard “you know we are going on a hike right?” Crossing my arms across my chest “the hike is overnight” my face dropped “you are joking?” He shook his head “we are camping, together” I gasped, I am in shock “Chris please, how is that even good!?” I shouted “don’t you want to try new things; we can spend time together on the outside. We have a team of people, we can just be us, be Robyn and Chris. Don’t you think that is good? I promise you it will get better” I want to murder him “I am having to stay in a tent!? How do I go toilet?” He snorted laughing “you dig a hole” I gagged “there is places, come on. Don’t be like this” he’s going to make me cry “so we are camping?” I asked “kind of but I think if you let it be, it will be fun. Imagine all the time we can spend together, all the talking too” he has a point “you know what, we haven’t. Done that ever in my life and I think it will be something different for me, for us so yeah. I mean I will complain but this will be different” Chris laughed “I don’t understand how you are functioning right now; you literally are functioning on what? No sleep or anything? I mean ok, you have a nap, that is something. We do need to talk” I pointed, I need to get to know this calm Chris, he’s so different.

Chris looked at me and then laughed out “how you wearing leggings and a crop top, you are so unserious, but I’m going to let you ride” he grabbed the backpack “everyone, please listen. I am Sim, short for Simon. I am your British guide, ask me anything you want” Chris laughing at my outfit, he’s so rude “we can do an ice breaker later, but we need to leave, onto the coach” there is like 3 other couples here, they haven’t even cared to harass us, just being normal which is weird for us “you will need a coat; something warm” he pointed at me “I packed it for her” Chris said “my husband did it” I smiled “ex” he added and I had to hit him “annoying, oh my god, will there be phone signal?” I asked “it varies, not strong though” I need to call the kids “let me call Rylee, I need to tell her” Chris walked off “come on the coach and do it” getting my phone out of my pocket “no Chris, I will follow. I need to let the kids know that I won’t be around but to be safe, it will be one night they can’t really call me” tapping on Rylee’ name, I do call on Rylee a lot, but she is my eldest “hi mom” Rylee answered very quickly “I am impressed” I said to her “well you’re my mom, but how can I help?” I need to hurry “help, girl bye. But your dad is taking me camping, well hiking” the phone line went silent “dad?” I froze, I just said that, I did just say that “mom, you lied again. Dad” I groaned out “you’re with dad” I shushed her “Rylee please listen to me, we are trying. I let it slip please keep it between us” pleaded with her “but dad?” she said again “I am so happy, but I won’t tell the rest. We are being good unless you have found something out?” these kids “no, but please Rylee. I don’t want the false hope in the house, we don’t need the stress” I said “ok mom got it” I am so annoyed with my self “right, I called because where I am going has no good signal, I want you to not worry the kids and just be there for them. It is just for one night” Rylee laughed “is dad torturing you? I think he is mom” Simon the operator waved me “oh mom, you remember Cameron? He is messaging me, he wants my number” Rylee said to me “we need to go please” I am holding it all up “Rylee, we will speak soon ok” I need to go “fine” she huffed out.

I am so stupid; now why did I tell Rylee that. It just slipped out “guess what I did?” I said to Chris “can I have the window seat please?” Chris side eyed me getting up “thank you poppa” sliding in and shuffling over to the window seat “you was saying?” He said “so erm, I blurted out I was with you, because I said your dad is taking me camping not thinking to myself. Rylee said oh you lied to us mom, and that she thinks you’re torturing me, you wouldn’t do that?” Chris is laughing “but we get to spend time together and also see a real life volcano, I think it will be nice” I don’t know if he is or isn’t “but is she going to tell the rest of the kids? I hope not” I shrugged “I don’t know Chris, but I hope not, I am so stupid. I just wanted them to know that I am going to be away and not worry. Ugh” I am mad at myself “just stop speaking on my man, my man, my man, my husband, my baby. Mine; mine, mine” I gasped, and he busted out laughing “I am not like that, why are you lying” he is so ugly “but you are dead ass hollering on the roof this, but yet ain’t tell me what you doing with those papers” pointing at him “after that nasty little mimic job you did, I am putting that through” he is nasty “I’m playing, aye. Come on now, I am joking but I am not wrong, you keep hollering about it. How is that anyone’s fault. You was pop locking on my dick in the club and then act surprise about the blogs, damn Robyn” I huffed out turning away from him, he is so annoying “oh come on” he is laughing but I am not laughing, but it’s nice to hear him sound so joyful and teasing me like he does “but does that mean you don’t like it?” I asked looking at him “oh man” he laughed out rubbing his face “ok on a real, let’s be real. No playing about” he turned to me; he is being serious then.

He said let’s be serious but here we are just smirking at each other “my man, my man, oh my husband” he said be serious but does this “stop it” I whined out “for what? Ok, let’s be real. You never know we may die here so we can die knowing. I totally made a decision out of my own impulsive ways thinking I am doing you a favour, us a favour so I did it. I love you and I will always remarry you; I will always want you, but I did it because that is what you wanted from me, you wanted that from me so I did it, but I really don’t think that is what you want, I don’t want it, and if you do it then we just going to have to have another wedding which will cost us money but like, let’s be realistic. We are working on us, but it depends if you can stop saying my husband, but yeah, that is me” he is right, I don’t know how to hold my mouth or my actions around him “you right, I didn’t put it through because first of all I didn’t want it public, that goes through then it’s public record, you can get it and I don’t want that. It hurts to see you signed it, it does. Like even thinking on it but then I see my own signature there but it’s like what are we doing, we do love each other, and we want to be together. But we need to have fun together, just us. We get on, we really do and yeah, I don’t want it but I don’t want to tell anyone that we are seeing each other because they are nasty and bitter” Chris smiled at me “oh wow, look at you begging for me back” I scoffed “oh please, I did not say that, you are such a troll” he is annoying.

This man is right, I am cold, so I am glad Chris got me a coat. I smiled as Chris wrapped his arms around me while stood behind me, the people are saying their names and whatever, I missed half of it “next” Simon pointed, do I say Robyn or Rihanna, maybe Rihanna “Rihanna, and I didn’t know I was coming here until this morning” the group laughed “I am sir Christopher and we are pantie designers, we design panties” he is such a troll, this group are side eying him “what is your favourite pantie that you have designed?” Simon asked “mhmm a thong, personal preference. Freedom to the booty cheeks, I really feel all the ladies should free them” putting my head down trying not to laugh “don’t you sing?” he said to him “about booty? Hell yeah I do. I am joking” looking up “he is a clown, as you can see” looking up at him, he is happy, so I am happy “So team the trail rises into old-growth tropical cloud forest that harbors a diversity of flora and fauna, and also provides hikers shade and comfort as they push up the steep slope” looking back at Chris again “why are you so giddy? What is this?” he shrugged “I don’t know, I am happy I think. I got my best friend with me, it reminds me of school, just needy and it makes me laugh but I am happy. I got my best friend with me” he is so right “likewise, but you will be carrying me up anything steep, he said steep Chris” he thinks I am joking but I am not “you have a backpack you need to carry twin, so buckle up. Put that back into good use, you got a weak back. Forever falling forward when I am hitting it from the back” nudging him “shut up” I am not weak or have a weak back.

I am so tired, like I am very tired. My feet hurt; my hair is a mess, but I did not account for the view I would see “you never said this was active?” I am literally seeing a Volcano Erupt in front of my eyes “Fuego is famous for being almost constantly active at a low level. Small gas and ash eruptions occur every 15 to 20 minutes, but larger eruptions are rare” Simon explained “this is crazy, wow!” I am amazed, looking at Chris. He has a polaroid camera “this is crazy Chris; we are just seeing this live and direct. So we are just going to stay here?” I asked “yes, all perfectly fine. We are at a safe distance; we can just rest here. Take in the views, and in the morning the sunrise here is beautiful” looking at Chris “this is actually pretty amazing” he raised an eyebrow “oh now you want to say this, you complained throughout it all” I smiled wide “well that is just me, so can you please check for spiders so I can go to sleep I am tired. Oh before I eat, please make me food” Chris laughed “you are joking, I am not your chef. You can’t sleep until you eat, we are doing that in front of the fire with all the nice people” no he is right, I need to eat.

The kids wouldn’t believe it, I am just sat here and seeing a Volcano spew out little gasps of hot rock randomly, the stars in the sky are amazing, like this is nothing normal to do. I mean what more do I want, I have peace, I have Chris “what is it like Chris? Living in your mind, like it makes me think in general. Your emotions are always heightened” I am interested “right now I am ok, I am happy but in a situation. Like more recent with Jay, it was hard to not act out on him. I have noticed I do stare at the person silently when they are being rude or mean, that is me trying to think of my next move but it's messy, I have so many thoughts. It’s racing, I say shit without thinking, that is because my mind it just always on one hundred, I am never wrong, what I say isn’t wrong it’s my deliverance on how I say it. I find it scary on what I am capable of, I am such a talented person, and I have so much going for me, even with this I am better then half of these niggas out there but I at times have to stand back and think this is getting too much. Like on tour that is a big example of what I am saying, it is hard to say really but I hope you get that” that is a lot, how does he even shut off.

[bowieandqueen11]

Revelations/ Five Hargreeves Imagine

Request: Could you do an imagine for Five Hargreeves with a reader that is as snarky and sarcastic as him, and they bicker a lot, but they both like each other and just won’t admit it. And one night she has a panic or anxiety attack and he’s the only one she thinks of to go to. And there could be a confession to each other. I LOVE your stories your my favorite person to come and read from! Your just awesome!! 

Thank you so much my dear @lizrobinson28 for sending this in, I’ve missed writing for Five! <3 This is an aged up imagine, where Five is around 18/9 and didn’t land in the Apocalypse!

Comments are much appreciated! 

You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t have gone to Griddys, seen your ex, shouldn’t have come out tonight at all. Agnes, of course, bless her heart, had tried to calm you down, but it was too late. You had made the wrong decision.

Waiting outside the donut shop, you wait for Klaus to come and pick you up. It was the least he could do, he had told you that morning, for letting him bunk over at your place for the last few months. Glancing down at your watch, you sigh. He’s late, as usual, probably off somewhere getting high or smoking blunts with any friends he can find out on the streets this late. 

Struggling to catch your breath, the shivering cold of the night beginning to prick under your light jacket and pierce your skin like thousands of icicles, you do the only thing your mind can put together. The only place your thoughts can straggle together into one somewhat cohesive sense of directions. The sky is rolling blanket of cloud the colour of wet ash, and the ground its dank reflection. Each step becomes a prayer that he’s in while you walk.

The Umbrella Academy was the last place you wanted to be right now. The whole building, quite honestly, sent a chill down your spine, the stories Klaus had told you reminding something from out of your nightmares. Choosing instead to meet at Griddys, you had hoped you’d never have to set foot inside Sir Reginald Hargreeves’ halls again, or see some of the people that still lived inside. Yet something in your heart tugged towards Five’s window, as you hesitantly creep around to the side of the building near the bins. To be quite honest to yourself, the thought of him is the only thing stopping the coldness from chilling your bones, the only thing keeping your feet moving.Their hinges groan as you slightly push them out of the way, picking up a stone and trying to stop your hand from shaking as you stumble back up. Still trying to stifle down the beginnings of your panic attack, you pray your stupid best friend is in, and throw the stone at the window.

Finally, after what seems to be at least twenty minutes, his chipped window frame opens up, light from his amber desk lamp flickering out into the alleyway. His frown appears, a mop of raven dark hair falling over the edge until his wide eyes land on you.

‘What the hell do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy?’

‘W-will you just s... just shut up and let me in.’

His eyebrows furrow at the gasps you take to say your usual rebuttal, and he stands back as way of allowance. Climbing up the old, rickety ladder on the brick wall side of the building, you move towards the familiar glowing light and clamber in head first.

The bedroom was furnished on a meagre budget but if was full of a heartfelt warmth. The walls were still tarnished with childish wallpaper, leaning more towards yellow colour with age, with the single bed pushed up against the wall, a bed you had spent many nights pretending to annoy each other on. Although he would never admit it, as Five grabbed underneath your armpit and led you towards the bed, kicking his papers out of the way, you’re one of the only people he stills lets into his room.

‘You know, a call or something is always appreciated when you land head first into someone’s room. Especially this late at night.’

Placing your head between your knees, you barely feel his leg bump against yours as he sits down next to you. Clasping his hand together, he tries to stop his heart from fluttering against his breast as he frowns down at you.

‘Yeah, well, you can blame your brother for that.’

‘I don’t see him here, so I’m going to stick with blaming you.’

‘Look, if you didn’t want company, you didn’t have to let me in, so zip it Hargreeves.’

Five smirks, looking down at his twiddling thumbs to try and stop his cheeks from turning a hearty shade of beetroot.

‘Well, your company is one of the only one’s I actually enjoy.’

When Five stops talking, that’s when he knows there's a problem. He’s known you for nearly ten years now, and he knows you’re not capable of some sarcastic comment - that’s one of the things he likes most about you. Your fight, your passion, being one of the only people that can keep up and set him straight. The thing was, you couldn’t talk at that moment. Your words were crowded together and some felt like they were missing. Your sentences were fragmented and your thoughts seemed to jump from one thing to another. 

It was when you started hyperventilating, that Five reached out to touch your shoulder, hand shaking against his will. Before he knew it, your fingers are white-knuckled, holding onto his school blazer and asking him if everything will be okay. He doesn’t know what else to do, so he tell you yes. He tells you over and over, stroking your back and trying to calm you down, until he grabs on your hand and pulls you back over to the window, doing the only thing his brain could think of doing as well. Somehow, he remembered, that when he needed to figure out some equations away from his family, the roof was always the quietest place.

It’s nice to sit out here with someone else. The roof peaks directly above his bedroom window, making a corner the two of you can curl into, your head resting against his cheek, smushing it slightly. His breath is warm as he gingerly wraps an arm around your waist, letting it sit hesitantly against your hip.The two of you, for a moment in time, are one. Two souls bound together, lost in the breeze that caresses your faces, and the starlight dancing in the sky. The coldness of the slate tile and it's dampness seeps through the thin polyester trousers, but he finds for once, he doesn’t care one little bit. He’s still murmuring to you, soft little nothings or embarrassing stories about Diego or Luther, but you’re glad for them.

‘Trust me, if I tell you the story about Klaus and the chocolate pudding, that will make you laugh.’

When your breathing finally starts to slow, you shut your eyes, trying to figure out how you ended up here, with your best friend, and also the most annoying person you know’s arm wrapped around your waist and the other tentatively brushing against your hair. It was the calmest, the softest you had ever seen him. He was a bit forward, a little intrusive, but in the end, it was the only way he had been taught how to care under this roof. The tile starts to become cold under Five’s fingertips, and so he shuffles closer to you a little, both of his arms enveloping you, comforting and warm. In seconds your body is moulded to his own, sharing his body heat as easily as he, you realise, shares your heart. Little did you know, as Five glanced down at you with scared eyes, that he was sharing the same little revelation.

‘Y/n, I think I have to tell you something.’

‘What is it, Five.’

Your gaze slid to the side as he pulled you tighter against his chest. His nose tickled your ear as you gasped slightly at the intensity of his grip. Feeling his lips softly graze your neck, gently, like the tickle of a feather, almost not at all, you feel your face heat but you don’t pull away. Instead, you evened your breathing, summoning enough courage to meet his twinkling gaze. 

‘I think we both know. I think we have for a long time.’

‘I know, but I want you to say it.’

‘You always have to have the last word, don’t you?’, he says, laughing slightly, before bumping his chin against your forehead.

Looking up at the stars that burn infinitely over his head, he whispers,

‘I’m definitely in love with you, and for the first time in my life, I’m terrified.’

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 2-15: 时间针脚 The Patchwork of Time Translation

“Come on then, Miss Direction Blind. I'll be the one to give you the directions now.”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

After a week of working at Warson, I’d technically adapted to how things went about here. Zheng Lin had also arranged my first solo gig.

Zheng Lin: The design hub has a mentor system set in place.

Zheng Lin: So, all Assistants and Junior Designers will have a mentor assigned to them.

Zheng Lin: Of course, it is not up to you to choose, but your future mentor.

Zheng Lin: Every Senior Designer, including Director Qi, will participate in this program as a mentor.

MC: Director Qi too?

Zheng Lin: Correct. The selection criteria will be the results of your first independent work.

Zheng Lin: It might be solo work, but you can always approach me if you run into something you don't understand.

Zheng Lin: And also, I'll get Brother Mao to help you out, considering how you've only just arrived here and have yet to familiarize yourself with this place.

Zheng Lin: Of course, his aid doesn't include helping you out with your design.

Zheng Lin: In any case, just make sure to do this job well because the results of this will determine who your future mentor will be. Understand?

I understood what she was getting at. Mentors would greatly influence and affect the growth of a rookie. One will be able to learn much more when paired with an experienced mentor who shares the same aesthetic sense.

Although the deadline is still a long time from now, I want to become the best mentee choice to ever face Sariel.

The job this time was to create a dress for Lin Yao, the new up and coming actress, for her award ceremony.

❖☆———————————★❖

She was a child actress who'd recently risen to fame when the popularity of the young idol teen drama she starred in half a year ago exploded. Due to her cold countenance, she was dubbed by the media as the "Nation's Fairy Nymph" 

This time, the local crime movie she'd starred as the lead for had received a double harvest at the word-of-mouth box office. It has also been nominated as one of the most popular movies and the movie with the best female lead among many others.

This movie was about a talented dancing genius who secretly plotted the murder of her abusive stepmother for many, many years. This caused the creation of a second personality within her; the murder happened then. At the end of the film, she danced in the pure white snow beside the dead body of her stepmother. Something that she'd only ever dreamt about. And there, etched upon her face, was the first smile of her life.

❖☆———————————★❖

MC: Her performance is way too good! I can't even tell that it's an act...

After watching some of her award-winning works interviews, I finally managed to get some semblance of understanding about Lin Yao.

She was someone of few words, a polite and obedient kid who never once had a single bad article to her name. She was forever smiling in front of the cameras. She was hardworking and responsible when it came to her work, and has had a smooth journey ever since her debut. It was the very epitome of what a perfect life was; one that everybody admired.

MC: A traditional fairy dress would be too conservative. Although that'd be very in line with her image, it'll merely be the same thing all over again. That wouldn't make her stand out on the red carpet.

MC: I can't help but feel like she's not all as inwardly peaceful as she appears on the outside. Perhaps she's fiercer or more sensitive deep down...

I didn't know how I could express this mismatch in her persona.

Perhaps it was those eyes of hatred of hers that shot daggers in the movie, or maybe that one sliver of vulnerability that she let slip in her interviews every once in a while. Those factors made it hard for me to decide just what kind of style I should go with her dress.

MC: And I also feel like digging deeper to uncover the other more charming side of her that no one knows...

The genius young maiden of the nation. A turbulent era of change. Self-redemption and self-destruction. All of these factors were only impactful when combined together with the era it was set in. It was only then, that everything felt fated to be.

MC: What if I added these elements to the dress?

I closed my eyes and imagined it in my head. A black feather dress inspired by the nation slowly formed in my mind's eye.

MC: I know!

Brother Mao: Heavens! You gave me a scare right there!

That was when I realized that I'd quite literally leapt out of my seat in my excitement. I gave an embarrassed laugh.

MC: Brother Mao, I'm going to go out and do some fieldwork to get some inspiration!

❖☆———————————★❖

If I were to find things related to the nation, then the museum would be the most appropriate choice.

Back when I was little, I'd always be left in the care of my mother's ex-partner when neither she nor my grandmother had the time to take care of me. He was responsible for managing this museum that could be called my second home of sorts.

MC: But, why does it look different from how I remember…?

The place had been renovated during the long period of time I hadn't been to it. All the exhibition halls had changed locations.

I followed the signs towards the hall where all the local things were displayed, only for my attention to be caught by a familiar figure.

Dressed entirely in black, said person had his arm behind his back as he stood motionless in front of the collections before him.

His straight posture made him look like a tall, yet silent, statue from afar. Under the lights of the spotlight, a faint silvery-white halo surrounded him. I could even see the small particles of dust floating in the air amidst the light. It made him look stand-offish and sharp.

I couldn't stop myself from raising my camera and snapping a shot. 

Click! 

The man noticed; immediately whipping his head around.

MC: ...Osborn!?

Surprised, I retreated a step; only to realize that my hands were now empty. Osborn had snatched my camera from me.

Osborn: Watcha hiding?

He cocked his head to look at the camera, the corners of his mouth upturning into an arc.

Osborn: You're sneakily taking shots of me? Let's see how they turned out.

MC: Return it back to me first!

Osborn purposely lifted the camera higher out of my reach.

Osborn: Why are you so frantic? It's not like I mind or anything.

MC: I still have things to do! Hurry and give it back already!

Osborn: What did you come here for?

MC: Photos. I came here looking for inspiration.

Osborn nodded, turning and walking away with my camera in hand.

Osborn: Weren't you here for pictures? Come on, let's go.

Does he want to accompany me?

I hurriedly chased after him and held out the guidebook for him to take. However, he'd only waved his hand in dismissal and signalled for me to follow behind him.

He led me around the museum as if he knew the place like the back of his hand. All I had to do was to name the exhibit and he'd be able to find it immediately.

His sense of direction is incredible. What is he? A human-sized GPS?

MC: Do you come here often, Osborn?

Osborn: It's my first time here.

MC: …..

Osborn let out two short laughs as he crooked his head and contemplated me.

Osborn: And how many times have you been here?

MC: I've come here a couple of times in the past, I guess. I'm not very familiar with this place. Ahem...

??: (Y/n)! Is it really you? You've come back to the country?

The curator uncle that I'd not seen in a long time suddenly comes round from a corner. He looked astonished to see me here.

Mr. Curator: You've grown into a splendid young woman in the years I've not seen you. It's great to see you back! Come by my place for dinner when you're free!

Mr. Curator: Oh, yes. Should I get you a guide? I remember that you got lost here once.

MC: No need! My friend here has a superb sense of direction!

My face heated up as I hurriedly pointed to Osborn. He didn't say anything more, only laughing as he nodded to Osborn before leaving.

Brilliant. I originally intended to keep the fact that I was directionally challenged under wraps when around Osborn, but now… He's gonna make fun of me again.

MC: Right, but I'm still pretty good at reading maps…

In the end, Osborn couldn't hold back his laughter and ended up laughing till his shoulders were shaking. He took hold of my arm in one swift motion and started walking forward.

Osborn: Come on then, Miss Direction Blind.

Osborn: I'll be the one to give you the directions now.

Somehow, I vaguely felt my heart skip a beat at that.

MC: I want to go to the national exhibit…

❖☆———————————★❖

The national exhibit had now been renovated and refurbished retro-style. All the new collections exhibited here now turned out to be clothing and accessories. 

Looks like I made the right choice in coming here.

Osborn: Want do you wanna snap?

MC: That one. The brown layered cheongsam patterned through burn-out printing.

MC: The blueish-grey female damask lined jacket!

MC: And that short-sleeved georgette velvet cheongsam that's also patterned through burn-out printing!

I'd virtually snapped a picture of every outfit on display here. The tentative image I originally had in mind seemed to become clearer now.

MC: Okay, that's all.

Osborn kept the camera and glanced at the time.

Osborn: Let's go then.

❖☆———————————★❖

Dusk had already fallen by the time we walked out of the museum. The smell of sundown envelopes us in its serenity, as the breeze carries the fragrance of hyacinths.

Osborn walks up to a black motorcycle and leans on its back seat.

MC: Thank you for today. I didn’t cause you any trouble by hogging you and making you take pictures for me, did I?

Osborn: Sure you did.

MC: …Ah. What are you going to do about it?

Osborn: Then, how about you do a little something to repay me? The bracelet I was looking at earlier; have you seen anything like it before?

The image of Osborn staring seriously at the white-coloured jade cong earlier flashed through my mind.

MC: That’s not a bracelet. It’s a jade cong. They’re used as ritual artefacts in ancient witchcraft or religious sacrifices.

MC: The one you saw earlier was a typical one belonging to the Liangzhu Culture. It’s speculated that it’s used to communicate with gods or the souls trapped in this realm.

Osborn: You know quite a lot.

MC: I used to come here a lot as a kid, and I’d just tail the big sister, the guide, back then when I had nothing better to do. That’s why I remember so many things.

Osborn: Hu? You don't look like an expert at all.

MC: I’m still learning, but they do say that the better your memory, the smoother the sail of your learning curve.

Osborn: Let’s see… Wasn’t there an expert earlier who couldn’t even tell left from right?

MC: I was born with a poor sense of direction! I told you that my map reading skills were still passable!

Osborn: Okay, okay. What’s with the glare? I’m only poking fun at you.

Osborn: My sense of direction is brilliant, so just follow me next time.

MC: ……

MC: Right, but that jade cong earlier was a little odd.

Osborn: Man, the way you change topics needs a little working on.

MC: Do you want to listen, or not?

Osborn: Spill.

MC: I’ve never seen a jade cong from the Liangzhu Culture with the double-headed snake motif carved onto it before.

MC: There exists a sacred double-headed snake motif in Sumerian Culture. It represents Ningishzida, the Lord of the Good Woods.

MC: And in the mythology Ningishzida hails from, the gods used clay to create humans and make the beginnings of the first civilization.

MC: Just like the Fuxi Nuwa from our ancient mythology.

MC: Funny thing is that, coincidentally, the Sumernarian two-headed snake is also very similar to the Fuxi Nuwa.

Osborn unknowingly furrows his brow whilst muttering about something under his breath. However, he quickly returns to his usual playful self.

Osborn: Okay. I've got it.

MC: Why are you interested in something like this?

MC: I remember that the bracelet you showed me up on the roof that day had the same motif.

Osborn: Ever heard of this saying?

Osborn made a come hither motion, signalling for me to get closer to him.

Osborn: The more secrets you know, the more you'll be...

He did a cutthroat gesture whilst smirking at me.

MC: Do I look like I care?

Osborn: It has something to do with someone I'm looking for. I'll tell you next time if I get the chance.

MC: Hmm…

Osborn: But, no telling anyone about what happened today.

MC: Okay. Now gimme the camera.

Osborn: I helped you and yet not even a single "thank you" from you?

Osborn leaned further backwards, purposefully dodging my hand that went straight for the camera, a devilish look on his face.

MC: Thank you!

Osborn: Now stick your hand out.

A small lemon candy was placed into my outstretched palm alongside the camera.

Osborn: Where are you headed? I'll send you.

He flipped himself onto his bike, surveying the congested road up ahead.

MC: I can't possibly bother you like that...

I waved my hand and turned his offer down out of habit, yet inwardly, I was silently pondering about just how I was to get onto that tall bike of his.

However, just as I was about to step onto it and swing myself onto the seat, the engine gave a resounding roar as said motorbike speeded away from me.

Only a single line hung in the air in his wake: "Bye!"

MC: Hey! I was just being nice! It wouldn't hurt to have asked me again...

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

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[iliumheightnights]

Even Now? | Bellamy Blake x Male Reader

Fandom: The 100

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x Male Reader

Summary: Bellamy and (M/N) had been dating on the ark. After (M/N) had been sent to the skybox the two lost contact. Now on the ground the two find each other again.

A/N: I am a hoe for Bellamy Blake and will die for him.

…

(M/N) stepped out of the dropship. He was blinded by the sunlight but let out a laugh as he realized he was on Earth. He was on Earth and he was alive. He looked around and watched as the other delinquents ran around shouting and laughing, pushing each other and having a good time. For the first time in a long time they all got to be kids again.

Walking around their new campsite, (M/N) took in the woods around him. He had always imagined what earth would look like on the ground but never realized it could be so beautiful. Speaking of beautiful, he caught sight of someone he hadn’t seen since he had been put in the skybox. There dressed in his guard uniform was Bellamy Blake, his ex boyfriend.

Bellamy was standing with a group of people talking. He recognized a few as Clarke Griffin, Wells Jaha,and a few others he had known. Among them was also Octavia Blake, Bellamy’s sister who he hadn’t known about until after he had been put into the box. Not wanting to deal with Bellamy he turned and walked the opposite direction of the group.

Sitting down on a fallen log he finally took in the sight on his wrist. There he now has a strange wristband, it wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t literally annoying him. “Ugh. This thing sucks. Why did they put it on us anyways?” He tried to peel it off but it wouldn’t budge, only giving him a bit of a sting. “Hurts like a bitch doesn’t it?” (M/N) turned around and smirked at Murphy. One of the only people he was actually friends with during his time locked up. “Not as bad as choking on a lack of oxygen. Can you get this thing off of me without injuring me?” He held his arm out to Murphy who pulled out a makeshift knife.

Before Murphy could begin to do anything with the band, he found himself being pulled away. “How about you take your knife and keep it away from him?” (M/N) looked at the new person to see Bellamy glaring at Murphy holding his arm. “Hey! Just trying to help my friend out.” Bellamy didn’t loosen his grip, instead making it a big rougher. (M/N) saw how Murphy was starting to feel some pain. “Bellamy! Let him go!” In an instant Bellamy let Murphy go but continued to glare at Murphy. “Go.” He said. Murphy didn’t waste any time and left back to his group of friends. Bellamy turned back to (M/N) who was walking off. “(M/N)! Wait! Please!”

(M/N) ignored him as he continued to walk off. Entering the dropship he found some of the supplies that had been sent down with them, aka a tent. Grabbing the tent he returned to outside the dropship and started setting up his tent. This gained the attention of some of the other delinquents. “Hey! He’s got a tent!” He didn’t stop setting up his tent as they came closer. “Yeah! I do! This is my tent and maybe, just maybe, if you’re nice I’ll share it with you.” That seemed to piss some of them off. “Or we can just kill you and take it for ourselves.” The delinquents moved closer but were stopped by Bellamy. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” That stopped them from moving any closer to (M/N). “Anyone that touches him deals with me!” Bellamy shouted through the camp. That seemed to deter anyone from messing with (M/N). “Can I talk with you?” Bellamy asked and (M/N) motioned to his tent.

The two boys stepped inside. “What did you want to talk about Bellamy?” (M/N) asked, crossing his arms. The tent was nice and large, definitely meant for more than one person. “I was just wanting...I don’t know to just talk to you. I just wanted you to know, I never stopped loving you (M/N).” (M/N) let out a laugh. “That’s rich. If you still loved me then you would have come and visited me while I was locked up. But you didn’t! Why? And don’t say to protect your sister cause that’s no excuse for this.” Bellamy struggled to find the words. “I just...I didn’t want to see you locked up. It broke my heart watching you being lead away and I was afraid of what would happen when you turned 18. I know you probably wouldn’t have been floated but it still scared me.” (M/N) shook. “Well how do you think I felt!? I was locked up with the threat of execution trailing me! I wanted you but you weren’t there for me! You know what...just go!” He pushed Bellamy out of the tent.

As time passed on the ground, Bellamy continued to try and reconnect with (M/N) who was sticking to ignoring him. But then the grounder threat happened and Bellamy practically became the leader of the camp, with Clarke acting as a second leader. For some reason, (M/N) didn’t like the fact that Bellamy and Clarke were spending so much time together. A group was going out to go and hunt for the camp, Bellamy among them and (M/N) decided to go with them. “(M/N) what are you doing here?” Bellamy asked as he joined the group. “Going hunting. What am I supposed to leave it to you imbeciles to catch our food?” Some of the group members grimaced or sneered but Bellamy only smirked at him. “Now let’s go. I’m starving.”

The hunting had been going alright and then of course a cloud of acid fog came their way. Bellamy and (M/N) had gotten separated from the rest of their group and hid in a cave. Luckily the fog wasn’t following them inside. “Well....there goes dinner.” Bellamy laughs and shakes his head. “We almost died and you’re still thinking of food?” (M/N) shrugged. “What? I like food!” Bellamy shakes his head again but reaches into his backpack and throws (M/N) a nutrient bar that he had. “Thanks. Wait...where’d you get this?” (M/N) asked. “It was part of the supply drop with us. They gave us practically nothing but I figured I’d save that.” (M/N) hummed.

It had been a little longer and the fog was still going. “So...you and Clarke seem...nice.” (M/N) said, making Bellamy look at him with a face. “What? Me and the princess? What do you mean?” (M/N) snorted at the name. “I mean, you two seem close. I’m sure you two will be very happy together.” Bellamy’s mouth turned into a large grin. “Oh my god. You’re jealous!” (M/N) blushed and looked away. “I don’t know what you mean. I have nothing to be jealous about.” Bellamy got up and moved to sit beside (M/N). “Just to let you know. There’s nothing going on between me and Clarke. There’s only one person in this camp that has my heart?” (M/N) decided to mess with him. “Your sister?” Bellamy nodded. “Alright two people in the camp.” (M/N) smirked and turned to look Bellamy in the eyes. “Even now? You still love me after everything that’s happened? Why?” Bellamy scooched closer and held his hand. “Because you’re amazing. You’re so smart and talented. You also don’t let anyone fuck with you, which sometimes gets you into more problems than it’s worth. But overall it’s because you’re you, and I love you (M/N).” Bellamy leaned in closer and (M/N) decided to close the gap, pressing their lips together. “I love you too Bellamy.”

The two reunited boyfriends stayed in the cave until the fog cleared. Once cleared they regrouped with the others and returned to the camp. “So...you going to move into my tent or what?” (M/N) asked. “I thought that was without question?” Bellamy grinned pulling him into another kiss in front of everyone else in the camp, making sure everyone knew not to mess with his boyfriend. 

“So, ready to be my co-king of earth?”

[xlehukax]

What Becomes Of The Brokenhearted?

Foreword: This is for @head-over-heart​‘s 100 Follower Writing thing!! It took me forever but hey, I did it. urm you asked for angst and... it’s angst-

Ships: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 5036

Warnings: ANGST SO MUCH ANGST ALL THE FLUFF IS ANGST IN SHEEPS CLOTHING, Language, Cursing, Verbal Abuse, Lying, Manipulative Loki, Unsympathetic Loki, Past Relationships, Money Issues, Tortured Loki, Blood, Sorta self harm? it’s weird, again this is angst if you’re reading it for fluff I direct you to literally anything else on my page

Summary: You had thought your relationship with Loki was the main story, the tale of two lovers, a romance. It was merely a preface, and that you now know.  

~~~~

2009

You first met him by accident. You were just wandering about the bookstore: you had gone for a particular book, which you found, and were now letting yourself be caught within the pamphlets for vacations in Hawaii and test prep books. You let your hands brush some of them idly: the smell of paper is something familiar. Calming.

You step back for a moment, only to bump into a tall man. Hastily turning about-face, you nearly trip over the apology in your mouth at the sight of him.

Tall, dark, and handsome didn’t begin to cover it. He looked like he belonged in the Romance section, not squashed between ACT Test Prep and AP Chemistry.

“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry,” you squeak. He blinks at you slowly. Encapturing, you think to yourself, as his eyes turn from an icy blue to a green only seen on fresh grass.

“It is no problem at all, my dear,” he says with a small wisp of a smile. You have to hold yourself back from gaping at his voice, all velvet and red wine. You begin to take little steps outside of the aisle. Being within the scope of this guy is making your heart race way too fast for your liking. You’ve made it a few feet when a large elegant hand lands on your shoulder. Tensing immediately, you turn to see who did such a gesture.

“Apologies, dear, but would you mind helping me out for a moment? You seem acquainted with this establishment,” he asks, a teasing tone to his honeyed voice.

“Oh yes, totally,” you yelp, sounding nothing if not vastly peasant-like comparatively to him, “Could you maybe- take your hand off my shoulder first?” The mystery man removes his hand with leisure, holding on a moment longer than necessary before removing it completely.

“Of course,” he murmurs.

“Alrighty then, what are you looking for?” you smile at him bashfully, unable to meet his eyes.

“World history, if you would,”

“That’s sorta… a wide topic. Like, maps or something?” you clarify. He shakes his head.

“No, the entire history of the world. From the start of mankind to now,” he ensures. You stare for a moment: the history of the entire world. Something that kids learn for years. Yeah sure, that’s totally easy to do.  

“You mean… just America, right? Ha…” you start to laugh but take in his stony expression. No, he’s completely serious. Where has this guy been that he needs to know everything about the world? “Alright then. I guess I could show you to the World History section,” you accept. He smiles appreciatively.

“Yes, that would be satisfactory. Thank you.”

“Oh… it’s no problem. I wasn’t doing anything anyway,” you chuckle, leading him through the rows upon rows of books and weaving through the different sections. This mystery man’s gait is smooth and soundless. You finally reach the section, feeling as though you should bow before moving to leave.

“Whelp, this is it. It’s really funny that you want to learn everything- I went through a phase like this- well not a phase, I’m an out of work history teacher now, you see that’s why this is so amusing to me. You probably don’t want to hear this, heh- I’ll be going then,” you turn around.

“Wait-” he tugs on your arm lightly. Goosebumps, you think as you shiver. “How about… you show me how to do this? Be my tutor, if you would. I’d like to learn. Please, my dear,” he asks so politely, so carefully.

“I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name-”

“It’s Loki. Now, please. I will compensate you for your time. Please,” his eyes are wide and pleading, and you can’t bring yourself to say no. Even though you should. Even though he seems somewhat dangerous, with how his eyes swirl with unknowable emotion. Even though you just learned his goddamn oddball name.

“Alright then, Loki. I’ll help you pick some books out. And then we’ll see,” you adhere, already knowing full well you’re giving in too easily. Loki listens intently as you explain how many books there are, how many world events have occurred. You end up talking with him, even laughing slightly at his clever words. Conversation with Loki is like playing backgammon: skill, and luck, and fun in an intellectually teasing way. He’s suave and charming, and so powerfully endearing. You make him laugh just once, talking about common legends of zombies and vampires. He laughs in disbelief, in mockery of humanity: but it’s a noise unlike anything you’ve heard. It rolls over your skin like a wave.

When you go to buy your books, you go to the register together. Your one book: and the five textbooks he’s holding. Utop of the intellect, utop of the beautiful, utop of the elegance: he’s strong. Loki carefully places his books on the checkout desk, and the cashier starts scanning them.

“And what choice of payment will you be using today?” the cashier asks calmly, offering a polite smile.

“Payment?”

“Yes. Credit, debit, or cash?” they repeat. Loki’s expression flutters, and you glimpse something beneath his easy face. Something that to be honest, makes you think that you were right to call him dangerous. You tentatively place you hand over his. Instantly, you nearly jerk your hand away: his body is so cold, it’s what you’d imagine a cadaver would feel like. But, insistent on comforting him, you stubbornly keep your hand on his. He breathes in a sharp breath, and his other hand fists by his side.

“Hey, I got it. Here’s my card: can you put my book on it too?” you smile gratefully at the cashier, who rings it up with shaking hands. Loki untenses as he watches.

“Did you forget your wallet at home or something, Loki?” you ask curiously. His eyes glance at you and then look away again.

“Yes. Yes, I did. This is very peculiar for me. Apologies,”

You chuckle.

“It’s fine, it’s only… oh my god, 230? That’s criminal!” you gasp. The cashier shrugs.

“Textbooks go for a lot these days, education is expensive,” they merely say, before handing your card back.

You’re trembling by the time the card is returned to your wallet. I’ll be broke. Late on rent, at the very least. I’ll have to skip meals to keep my apartment, and even then… that’s no measly sum.

Loki takes the books from the cashier and leads you out of the store. Once outside, he takes your book out of the bag and hands it to you.

“Much appreciated, my dear. Would you like to help me sort through this hefty amount of information?” he asks. You frown at him. He’s still asking about that?

“I’ll pay you handsomely. It will more than make up the price of these textbooks.”

“Oh?” The edge of Loki’s mouth pulls up in a half-smile.

“Of course. The least I could do.”

~~~~~

To say you were smitten with Loki after only two months of teaching him would be an understatement. You’ve been going to his immense apartment every three days since the day at the bookstore for ninety minutes at a time.

There’s something about him that’s made you memorize his mannerisms and phrases. When he’s exasperated, he likes to shout “By the Norns!”. When he’s reading, everything is still with the exception of his fingers that tap his thigh or sneak over to your knee and rub circles around it.

He’s smart as all hell. You rarely have to review anything anymore: he can take in the new information so quickly. And he immerses himself in the knowledge he acquires. You can tell that Loki adores it, adores the learning aspect. It’s childlike, almost, and so painfully endearing at this point that your heart pangs at his excitement.

And he always goes out of his way to be kind. You can tell that he’s holding back everything. It’s in his eyes, you’ve noticed: they start as an icy blue when you come in, but warm into emerald after you say hello. If that’s not romantic… you don’t know what is.

Every inch of your body flutters when Loki looks at you. It’s embarrassing, and you blush, and he teases you about it. You bite your lip and look up at his apartment building: you’re ten minutes early to his apartment. Should you just wait in the lobby? Humming tunelessly, you stroll into the huge high-ceilinged building. It’s frigid in the room, juxtaposing the easy sun outside. You shiver slightly and take a seat in one of the black chairs decorating the lobby to wait. Tapping your foot, look at your phone… it’s all fine until a harsh hand lands on your shoulder.

“Wow, I can’t believe I’d ever find you in a place like this!” a harsh bark laughs. You glance over your shoulder: it’s a past ex-boyfriend of yours. You didn’t know that they lived in the building. He smiles cruelly, knowingly.

“Why not?” you huff, closing yourself off from his overbearing presence.

“Because people with money go here. People who can afford things! That’s not you, bitch. You had to leech off my money the whole goddamn time we were together. You remember that?”

“I just… you said that-”

“Yeah, you do,” he brushes a lock of hair back, to which you hiss a hushed “Don’t touch me”. He merely chuckles. “God, such a golddigger.” You said what’s mine is yours, you said if I needed anything I could just ask and you’d help, I didn’t know- “Paying me back with that second rate body like a fucking slut.”

You shake and glare at him abrasively, but say nothing for fear of what he’d retaliate with. It wasn’t paying you back it was a fucking relationship-

“Bet you haven’t been seeing anyone else. No one else wants to take on that kind of fucking luggage, huh? God, you’re useless. And I heard you lost your job? Wow, no one can stand you. Could’ve told ya that,” he snorts. You’re shaking now. You convince yourself you won’t give him the pleasure of making you cry, so instead, you’re looking at the asshole angrily.

“You shut up. I have a new job now, I’m tutoring-”

“Haha- tutoring? No wonder. Then they don’t have to see you every day! Wow, that’s smart. Because they’ll be able to cancel on you at any time. Truly a good thing. God, I wish I could’ve done that with you. So fucking clingy,” he’s smirking, and you want to cry, and then he’s being pulled back aggressively.

Loki growls at the man, who suddenly seems quite small and meek comparatively.

“Get out of here,” he snarls at the man, who trembles at his sharp words.

“B-but I live h-here-”

“Go out then,” Loki’s voice does not waver for a moment. It is strong and dangerous and protective and the man who had been spitting such vileness runs with his tail between his legs. Loki watches him go steely before helping you from your seat. His arm holds your waist tightly, restricting your movements as he all but drags you to the elevator.

“Who in Hel was that bastard?” Loki asks you with no lack of malice: his tone is seething and his eyes swirl icicle.

“Just an ex-boyfriend of mine,” you whisper, still trying to reign in the tears. Loki is muttering things under his breath, the words rising and falling in inflection but indistinguishable from one another. Loki’s arm never leaves your torso. You make it all the way upstairs, all the way to Loki’s beautiful apartment. He’s still muttering to himself, his body tense when you excuse yourself to the bathroom near silently.

You close the door, listening for the quiet click of the lock, before breaking down and crying. How mortifying. Loki had to come down and pick you up like a lost kitten, how useless you must seem to him now. You’re sure that Loki hadn’t thought you some poor wretch but now he should. You mourn the loss of Loki, the loss of this relationship that you were already attached to. There’s a harsh knock on the door.

“S-sorry, just give me a minute, I’ll be out in a moment-” you sniffle, trying very hard to make it seem like you're not crying in his fancy bathroom. The knocking continues, and then suddenly halts. You breathe in. And breathe out, and then the door is knocked off its hinges.

You whirl around to face the intruder: Loki, leg extended, looking murderous. His eyes soften as you squint at him through the tears. It’s slow and seemingly something that Loki is not used to when he bends to your level on the ground and wraps his arms around you hesitantly. You lean on him, letting him take you in his arms completely.

“Oh, my dear… you’re trembling. Please don’t cry,” he murmurs, face landing in your hair, “Don’t cry, my dear.”

You sniffle, “I’m not crying.”

“Don’t lie to me, sweet,” he says: part of you thinks it was supposed to be a joke, but he says it with such dark connotations that you don’t dare laugh. You just nestle in close to his cold body, feeling hot yourself.

“He’ll never bother you again. I’ll make sure of it. Shh, I’ve got you now,” Loki says, and his lips move down to your temple and press in sweetly. You gasp and nearly fall out of his arms. Loki catches you before it can happen, and stands up fluidly. You’re still in his arms, and not the lightest person: clearly, his strength is immense. He knocks down a door and holds you like it’s nothing. He looks at you sharply, daring you to speak.

“Why…?” you ask slowly, mouth feeling dry as his eyes bore into you.

“Why not, my dear? You’re beautiful,” he whispers, letting his breath dance over your ear. You shiver, and he takes it as an invitation to press a kiss onto the shell of your ear. “You’re so very smart… you’d think you’d notice by now how much I want you… I’d like to keep you,”

“Loki, why are you-”

“Shh,” he instructs, his eyes green and warm now, “I know you want me, my dear. I know it,”

You’re so embarrassed. Were you that obvious? Ugh. You place a hand on his muscular arm, pressing it to signal that you’d like to leave.

“No no, my dear. Please don’t go, stay with me… I’ll take such good care of you,” he says softly, pulling in close. “Don’t you know me by now? I’d never hurt you. Never forsake you.”

“Loki, I’m s-supposed to be your tutor, for god sakes, I-I can’t-” you stutter, blushing profusely. He’s so fast, he’s moving so fast all of a sudden, why-

“Then quit. Norns, woman… it’s not so hard,” he growls, his grip tightening around you. You yelp a little in surprise. His arms loosen immediately and he sets you on the ground with a guilty expression. “Apologies,” he says hoarsely. You laugh awkwardly and take a step back.

You avoid Loki’s gaze and rather watch his hands. Because you know, you know, if you look at him you’ll be swallowed up and the next thing you know you’re in his heinously comfortable embrace. Loki’s hands quiver at his sides for a moment and then they hesitantly rise. You watch carefully as they move upwards until they’re cupping your face. You’re unaware until it happens that you’re staring right into his eyes.

Green. Green as forests that you’ve only seen in pictures, green like dancing leaves in summer, green like liquid emeralds.

“My dear… please don’t shut me out. I can’t lose you. You’re all I have. Please. I’m desperate,” he murmurs: you can bring yourself to look away from those mesmerizing eyes. He’s gorgeous, he’s so pretty-

“Alright,” you whisper, then louder, “Alright. I can’t bring myself to say no to you,” you smile. Loki breathes a deep breath of relief before snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you in close. He barely checks if you truly want this before pressing your lips together. He dominates completely, pulling you close and pressing in more all at once. It’s intense and demanding and you melt. You’re melting into him, and he’s so very cold as he pulls you up into his arms and carries you away.

~~~~~

Swept away. That’s how things felt. You were no longer in your own life, you existed solely in Loki’s. You lost yourself over and over in his arms, in his kisses. He told you he loved you. No, he tells you he loves you.

You said it first, of course: “I love you,” over a cup of hot coffee. Loki looked at you with raised brows: “I love you too, of course.” It rolled off his tongue so smoothly, effortlessly. He pressed a kiss onto your forehead and then asked to continue the lessons.

It’s magic. It’s magic that has lasted for nearly a year now. So much so that you’re head over heels with what you used to think could be nothing but fantasy.

You live in his apartment now, for the most part: he’s never been to your own drab place but pays for it anyway while he keeps you. Loki pays for your food, eats your meals beside you. He accompanies you everywhere you wish to go. He hangs on every word you say, every memory you impart with a bemused calmness. He lets you rest on his side, snuggling in, and watch all sorts of movies. And you’re still telling him every piece of knowledge you know about the world.

Loki’s odd sometimes. He doesn’t understand the simplest things: the grocery store still eludes him, and it took him ages to discover that phones have larger capabilities than just texting and calling. Loki gets upset about it… when the television doesn’t work, when his delivery is late, when you can’t explain why a thing is doing something. He’ll spit foreign curses and sometimes, though it’s rare, things break. Loki apologizes instantly after: buys you a better, more expensive item to replace it. Make-up kisses and snuggles. He holds you tightly, close to his chest, so near that you can’t even move.

You think- no, you know that Loki’s not of this world. He’s an alien, or a vampire, or something. He won’t tell you which, rather chuckles at your attempts to deduce his origin. There was one point where he pulled a scepter from midair: you gawked.

“Magic,” you whispered, “You have magic.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” he had said lightly, teasingly. He held his scepter with a practiced grace: you watched enraptured as the gem suspended on it glows an alluring sapphire. You looked to Loki, shocked.

What you saw in his eyes made you want to look away again. The stunning blue, matching that of the scepter… how his eyes bored into the gem obsessively, how his mouth was forming words and sentences near silently. It was a movement you know all too well: it’s the one he likes to do in the early morning. Whispers of sweet words, promises, and adorations. It had been uncomfortable. Too uncomfortable.

“Loki,” you had started, reaching a hand out to touch his shoulder. And he had nearly swatted your hand away, his mouth pulling animalistically before he caught himself and apologized. Apologized profusely, at the sight of your eyes tearing up. Magicked the scepter away alongside his ice eyes and held you, murmuring lovely nothings. It’s in the past now, anyway.

Except for select parts. Select parts that relapse again and again. As time passes, Loki… changes. He’s angrier. Vengeful, with eyes of winter. He’ll be fine one moment, and the next he’s spitting vile at something or other. Occasionally it’s you. And you try to take the brunt of it, knowing full well that he doesn’t mean it, he loves you… and he comes to his senses after a moment anyway, assuring you that it was just a spell. And you kiss.

It’s a relationship, though you haven’t put any labels on it. You’re glad for that… because if you were still his tutor, yesterday would’ve been the last session. There is no more to learn. No more to teach. You can’t help but smile to yourself: now it’s just you and Loki, nothing providing a reason for the relationship to be anything short of dating.

Today is normal. Well, the new normal. You wake up to a cold bed: you can never tell how long he had been out of the sheets. He was always cold in them, cold outside them.

“Loki?” you grumble, feeling around the sheets. Nothing. He’s up already. Groaning, you stretch your body as you exit the bed. Sore, as per usual, after Loki has his way. You stumble out to the kitchen where Loki has his hands pressed into the counter and his back away from you. Smiling silently, you pad over to his back and embrace him.

“Loki- we’re all done! No more lessons, just me and you,” you sing-song cheerfully, sunshine and love, and- he backhands you suddenly with his left hand, with such force that your face slaps to the side and forces you to the floor. Tears spring to your eyes: from the pain yes, but also the betrayal. He hit you. Square across the face. Loki snarls above you, standing over your body intimidatingly. If you hadn’t been intimate with this man, you would’ve thought he was a demon with eyes of the frozen sea.

“Useless bitch! Wretch, you dare lay your hands on me? You are but a toy, a harlot- you do what I tell you and nothing more. You must be truly naive to think that you are anything above that. Now, bow to your king, beg for forgiveness,” he demands. You’re terrified, clutching onto your quickly reddening face and staring at him. “Kneel!” he yells.

“L-Loki, I don’t understand- why would you- why would you hit me?” you stammer as tears start to fall.

“You truly, hah, you’re truly a fool. Idiotic mewling quim,” he bends down to your level and with the same hand as before, slaps you the other way. “No one will ever love you. I used you, and now you have no use to me. So either submit and I’ll find a reason for you, something that fits your status… not a consort for a king, no, perhaps just a holding place until I find someone better... so, wench,” he grabs onto your stinging and bruised jaw with that ethereal strength, “Submit to your savior or get out of my sight. You are not worthy. Of my time. My presence. My being. You are nothing.”

He laughs maliciously as you cry and struggle to get up from your sprawled position on the floor.

“You’re trembling,” he notes aloud, sneering. You make a strangled noise: had once remarked the same thing, but with such kindness and caring and with a hug to boot. And now… and now, he steps on your face with light pressure, enough to make it hurt. “Stop it, and answer me.” You’re crying heavily now, sobs ripping themselves out of your chest, and it takes the last of your strength to punch the inside of his knee on the leg that’s holding you down.

Loki grunts and stumbles back, and you race away to the bedroom before he can regain his bearings. You lock the door with quivering fingers and slide down it before devolving into tears completely.

I thought we were okay. I thought this was it.

You’re sitting there, shaking, as you hear Loki’s feet stomp their way to the door. Your phone is charging fruitlessly in the living room: there’s no landline in the bedroom either. The penthouse that Loki’s in is way too far up to escape by a window if you want to survive the fall. Truly, hiding in the bedroom was not one of your wisest choices. You hear his footsteps, pounding the floorboards approach… until they falter before the only thing barring his entry into the bedroom. You crawl to the door of the closet: maybe if you’re quiet, you can hide there without a hitch. And he’ll be back in his right mind.

Bits and pieces of mutterings make it through the two closed doors: things like “no, stop”, “insolent”, “disobey”, “fine”, “go”, “stay”, “carry out”, “die”, “how could you”. The door slams: then his footsteps sound, quieter as he goes away. You breathe a sigh of relief, the breath coming out staggered, and lean against the side of the closet before crying a little more and gingerly touching your swelling cheeks.

How did I get here?

~~~~~

When you finally exit the bedroom, a good hour after the event, you’ve decided to forgive him already. You know it’s bad, and you know you shouldn’t but… you love him. And that’s bad, he’s bad but… perhaps you’re making him better? You are, you’re sure of it.

Tiptoeing out of the room, you hear the tell-tale sound of water running. You peek first from the corner of the hall. Loki’s simply at the sink, washing something or other. He seems peaceful. Docile. There’s a rhythmic “scritch scritch scritch” as Loki cleans. You grab your phone from its charging spot, just in case, before striding up to Loki’s straight-backed figure. You clear your throat when you stand behind him. Surprising him with a hug hadn’t been the best idea before.

“L-Loki? Is… is everything okay? Did something happen? If it’s about what happened... it-it’s okay. You weren’t in your right mind. I know you, I know you’re not like that: you’re so good to me! It’s just one time. It won’t happen again. I forgive you,” you smile at his back kindly, and take a step forward when he doesn’t respond. A step after another, set to the tune of “scritch scritch scritch”. “Loki, I’m going to hug you now, if that’s okay.”

You reach up with a quivering hand to tap his shoulder, having to step closer in the process, and what you see makes you stumble.

He’s not cleaning the dishes.

Loki is using the steel wool you use to clean the pans on… on his left hand. It’s shredded, horribly shredded: blood coats the sink and his arm, slowly going down the drain mixed with the running water. The scritch noise was… was his bones in his hands against the wool. His body shakes as you gasp, horrified.

“Oh my god, what are you- what are you doing, Loki, stop,” you sob, reaching forwards to pull the wool out of his hand. Your action is halted by the sudden clamping of his right hand on your wrist, the wool landing in the sink: it holds you steadfast and still with his much superior strength. His head turns to yours, and you can’t help but whimper at the emotions in his teary eyes.

Despair.

Hopelessness.

Pain.

And most worryingly…

Fear. Palpable, incredible, fear in those green eyes: they swirl dangerously with blue in a battle that you can’t help but feel terrified of. Loki whines like a scared child, his eyes wide as he clearly struggles to let go of your hand.

“Loki, let’s just calm down now, we need- we need to get you to a hospital,” you cry, gently removing your hand from his grip as it laxes just a bit. Loki shakes his head slightly, all he can muster.

His mouth moves, and no words come out. You watch patiently with shaking shoulders as he battles with himself to get the words out. When they finally come, garbled and quiet and painful to hear, it’s not affirmation or an apology or a declaration of love. It’s…

“Run. Please.”

You stagger backward in shock.

“But… but I love you, we can do this-”

He shakes his head, an “I’m sorry” being mouthed, and then his face distorts in pain. His bloody hand constricts around itself, shaking.

“Run, now! Never return, ever,” he growls.

You glance at his wrecked hand, then back at Loki’s tearful eyes, and then at his pained expression. He… he isn’t right. Something is happening to him, and you are not the one who can fix it. You cannot help him here. You know that, but you have a connection to him, you’re in love-

“I’ve never loved you. I’m… I’m so sorry- I think that with time and in different circumstances I could’ve but… ngk- you have to leave, before it’s too late. Go as far away as you can, quickly as you can. Things are coming, and you… you are but a mere foolish girl who loves too easily. You do not deserve the fate that the others will experience,” he grits out.

Your heart shatters.

Every snuggle on the couch, every peck over cooking eggs, every “I love you”. Months of your life, months spent in love, months with who you though yourself undeserving of and how goddamn amazing it is that you’re with him and he loves you and you wanted to spend your life with him oh god-

“Oh god,” you cry, tears spilling in great numbers, “I- Fuck! I can’t believe this, I-I I thought-”

“Leave,” Loki demands, a now all too familiar malice creeping into his tone, and you trip over your feet grabbing your coat and phone and wallet before leaving for good. Something is terribly wrong with this man, and you can’t help him. You don’t want to help him at this point, with all his lies and manipulations.

You leave alone.

You leave mourning the loss of months of your life.

You leave brokenhearted.

~~~~

And there’s something about watching Loki decimate the city you love on the television a few weeks later, in a new town with a new job and a new home, that makes you feel as though broken dreams and departed love will never ever allow you to have peace of mind.

~~~~

That’s it... Thanks for reading. 

Taglists: 

Anything & Everything: @myraiswack, @blindtaleteller, @head-over-heart, @karushinekomiya 

The Loki boy: @butterfly-in-progress, @loki-yoursaviourishere, @sweet-talkin-woman , @frostedgiant , @is-it-madness

If you enjoyed, please reblog- it truly means the world.

Want to be tagged on other works in this genre or just generally? Asks, DMs, or comments are all wonderful.

Liked it a whole coffee’s worth? Here’s my Ko-fi.

[somersetmummy]

(A/N): This fic is part three of the continuation of the story taking place following book 1 chapter 11 (after being rescued by Sam from Sofia's closet). I’m sorry this took so long post, I’ve been dealing with some things in real life and unfortunately writing fell to the bottom of the list!

Series/Pairing: The Nanny Affair (M!Sam Dalton x MC Katie Hide)

Original characters - all property of PB: Katie Hide (MC), Sam Dalton, Jenny Blake, Robin Flores

New characters: (present in part 3 but not mentioned by name) Serena-Rose Warren, Tessa Finch, Lucinda Hansen

Rating/Content warning: 15+ (a little bit of lust & desire, a few naughty words but nothing graphic)

Word Count: Around 3000, I lost count!

Summary: While out with her friends, Katie bumps into a familiar face, will the night lead her home to Sam or elsewhere?

- Scroll to the bottom for bonus text messages and group chat -

Part Three

As the newest bar on the New York social scene, Atlas had drawn quite a crowd. Hopeful revellers huddle together in the queue outside teased by the sound of merriment within each time the door opens for one of the guest list elite. Katie tentatively approaches the doorman, politely name dropping her way in, wondering to herself in disbelief how this is in fact her life.

Once inside, the unmistakable energy of Jenny and the gang pulls her towards their table in the middle of the room, a melting pot of silken hair, sequins and stilettos, it's hard not to be captivated by the glamorous group she calls her friends.

As she cautiously makes a beeline for the table Jenny notices her approaching, her face lighting up in recognition of her friend. Looking effortlessly edgy as usual, her short dark hair matches the black silk tank top tucked into a feathered black mini skirt. She eyes Katie and unapologetically wolf whistles in her direction.

With her new found confidence, Katie removes her jacket and saunters over to her friends, inwardly basking in the attention of several male pairs of eyes drinking her in along the way. While skimming through the crowd, a blush spreads delicately across her neck and cheeks as she feels one pair of eyes in particular playing close attention. Before she can take a good look around she's embraced by an overly enthusiastic Jenny, almost knocking the wind out of her.

Grinning sincerely back at Jenny, she then moves to Lucinda, Serena and Tess in turn, hugging them tightly and instantly feeling herself relax more than she has done in months, all memories of the drama of her new life checked at the door.

When she had first moved from England for her grad programme, Katie met Jenny almost immediately. One unsuspecting Sunday morning, having escaped the deafening throbbing of heavy bass coming through the wall she shared with her neighbour, Katie was in need of a quiet space to seek refuge and study. She came across an unimposing coffee shop a few blocks away and was immediately drawn to the homey interior as she gazed through the window. As she stepped in, calm washed over her, it felt like home. Settled with her head in her books, it wasn't long before a tornado of colour, energy and expletives tore its way across the room towards her. Jenny.

Taken aback by the intrusion, Katie sat in dismay as this whirlwind of a person rambled on about needing some kind of cover story for being there as her ex sat at the other end of the room with a decidedly less chaotic redhead in his arms. Katie graciously agreed to play along and let Jenny sit with her. It wasn't long before the ex was forgotten as the two women got caught up in conversation, the more they learned about each other the more they found that despite being complete opposites, they blended effortlessly. From that day on, Jenny had taken Katie under her wing and the rest, as they say, is history.

A few minutes after settling on the tall metal stools at the pristine granite topped table, a bucket of Dom Perignon on ice arrives along with 5 glasses. The group look to one another, perplexed, nobody owning up to the extravagant order.

"With compliments of Mr Dalton..." the bartender explains before turning to head back to the heaving bar.

With only Jenny knowing the truth about her as yet un-named relationship with Sam, the rest of the girls just assume it's part of his flashy, rich guy MO, unaware that there could be any other meaning to this gesture than of him having the means to do something nice for his hard working nanny. Jenny on the other hand is about as subtle as a brick and leans in immediately, at least with the decency to lower her voice to a whisper.

"Someone's wanting to impress your friends...and it's working!!"

As Katie throws daggers at Jenny in response, she can't stop her lips from curling in amusement. Turning to take one of the glasses and join in with their toast to friendship, she feels a warmth radiating from her heart reminding of the incredible man waiting for her at home.

After a couple of hours of conversation and countless cocktails, the friends make their way down the stairs to the packed club in the basement, the chic modern décor highlighted by atmospheric blue lighting illuminating the room.

As she slips through the throngs of people to the middle of the dance floor Katie once again feels like someone is watching but can't pinpoint where they might be in the crowd, instead shrugging it off and throwing herself into dancing with the girls.

Unbeknown to her, the pair of dazzling green eyes which she felt boring into her belong to a very familiar face, still watching with a bemused smile as she dances sultrily to the rhythm of the music.

Completely entranced and thoroughly enjoying the view, Robin, who had been leaning against one of the VIP booths at the back of the room with a drink in hand, can't help but pull his phone out and capture the moment on camera.

His favourite past time of getting one over on his semi-brother had never been easier since meeting Katie. He'd quickly realised that flirting with her was a sure fire way to get under Sam's skin. Without a second thought, his fingers get to work tapping away on his phone's screen. As expected, a barrage of messages are swiftly returned warning him against doing anything remotely 'Robin'.

Rolling his eyes and with a heightened sense of determination, he pockets his phone and downs the rest of his drink licking the lingering taste of whiskey from his lips. He has no intention of listening to his brother's warning to stay away, after all Sam isn't here and surely what he doesn't know won't hurt him.

Completely oblivious to him moving towards her, he cuts through the crowed with laser precision until he's standing a hairs breath away from the delicious porcelain skin of her back. Her cheeks once again tingle with blush and the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention as she feels the same, now familiar, gaze upon her once more. This time the intensity courses through her body, urging her to turn around.

Cautiously spinning on her heel, a short gasp stifled by a giggle escapes her as her eyes lock on Robin's mischievous grin. He beams at her, challenging her as his hands reach shamelessly for her waist.

"You look amazing out here," he quips, "but I think this song sounds better when you're dancing with someone."

Her cocktail induced daze prevents her from thinking about objecting. Instead, rising to his challenge, she throws him a playful smile and turns back around, pressing her hips into his crotch and swaying seductively to the music.

His hands delicately slide up from her waist, his fingertips stroking the bare skin of her back before caressing her neck and finally moving up her arms to meet with her hands which skim through the air as she sways. Their fingers interlock as he pulls her arms back down to her hips, spinning her round to face him, both breathless.

Instinctively she throws her arms around his neck while his swiftly fall to the small of her back, igniting small sparks up and down her spine.

Robin can't quite believe his luck and thanks his lucky stars that he accepted the last minute invitation to join some old friends at the hottest new bar in town, when what he had really wanted to do after his long day was go home and order pizza.

They move to the music together for a few songs, comfortable with each other's presence and both enjoying the close attention they so rarely receive from anyone else.

Perhaps it's because of their shared experience of looking in on the Dalton's world from the sidelines, but there's something so familiar and natural about being this close to Robin and a kind of ease she's never felt with any man before.

Sure, Sam insists that there is something real between them, she feels it too and their undeniable magnetism between proves there's a connection. But he's never committed 100% to her, at the end of each day he still goes to bed engaged to someone else and she can't help sometimes feeling like she's just an observer to his life.

Lost in their blissful cocoon, it isn't until another pair of hands snake around her waist that she is reminded of where they are. Warm breath from lipgloss stained lips tickles her ear causing her to take a step back from Robin, sobering her to their surroundings.

"Babe, we're heading over to the bar for a refresh, time to leave lover boy!"

Jenny winks at Robin, unapologetically looking him over like he's a piece of meat she wants to devour. She clearly doesn't realise that 'lover boy' is in fact Sam's brother, a fact which Katie doesn't intend to share. She can only imagine the probing that would follow if Jenny knew the truth.

"I'll be right there."

She offers a gentle push to Jenny's rear, encouraging her to move on. Fortunately she complies and slinks off towards the bar, not before giving an impressed nod, clearly approving of Katie's dancing partner.

Turning back to Robin, the space between them has grown and the anticipation in the air dissipated as they reluctantly realise their time together has come to an end.

Without missing a beat, Robin flashes a devilish smile as he steps close once again, reaching for her hand, bringing it up to his lips for a soft kiss.

"Until next time Katie..."

He shifts even closer causing her heart to skip a beat. His hand caressing her cheek as it slides through her delicate tresses tilting her head upwards to meet his gaze. His eyes bore into hers for what fees like an eternity before his lips tantalisingly brush against her ear.

"Unless you want to take this back to my place?"

Her breath catches as a warm glow rushes through her veins. The question hangs in the air around them like a fog clouding her judgement.

Of the two brothers, Robin is by far the easier choice, he is after all available without any strings attached.

His stature is much the same as Sam's, his skin slightly lighter, with a similar warm tone. But the eyes....those dazzling emerald green eyes which she could get lost in, framed by delicate laughter lines painted across his beautiful face. His relaxed demeanour and ability to always smile no matter what is going on around him is infectious.

Yes, being with Robin would be easier, life simpler and undoubtedly endlessly fun but as she stares back into those hypnotising green eyes, their foreheads touching, she realises with a pang in her heart that it undeniably belongs to someone else.

In defeat she licks her lips, a small movement which immediately captures Robin's attention, and shakes her head in reply.

"Oh Robin, as tempting as that sounds, I think we'd be wise to go out separate ways tonight."

He returns her smile with a soft kiss on the cheek.

"Can't blame a guy for trying. I guess I'll just have to wait until next time"

Winking, he slips away into the crowd like a ghost and for a moment she wonders whether he was even there at all.

After making her way back to the penthouse in a daze, Katie gingerly steps out of the elevator, tiptoeing carefully down the hall. Her heart skips a beat as she catches sight of Sam fast asleep on the couch.

She can't help but smile to herself as her eyes trace the outline of his sleeping body, that magnetism she so often feels when she’s around him pulling her across the room until she's standing over him.

He looks beautiful, peaceful, almost vulnerable. She realises she's never seen him sleep before and hopes it’s not too creepy to stay and watch him for a few minutes as she slinks down to sit on the footstool between the couch and the coffee table, her knees brushing against Sam's thighs.

Lying on his side, his strong arms are folded across his chest as if protecting himself like armour. His chiselled chest gently rises and falls with each breath, eyelashes fluttering delicately as he dreams, his lips slightly apart, tempting her to kiss them.

She leans closer to him, elbows resting on her bare knees. A curl of his dark silken hair has fallen in front of his eyes and she tenderly stroke it back across his forehead and he involuntarily smiles at her touch.

Staring down at this beautiful man a realisation rushes into her mind like a car speeding out of control. She is completely and utterly, hopelessly in love with Sam Dalton.

Mind slightly fuzzy, her cocktail induced confidence and new realisation makes her brave, encouraging her to gently press her lips to his while cupping his face with her warm hand. He responds immediately by sliding his arm around her waist, kissing back softly, still half asleep. She leans closer still, lips grazing the top of his ear, her voice a whisper.

"I'm home, it's late, you should've gone to bed."

His eyes flicker open, adoration pouring over her, his hand still clinging to her waist.

"I couldn't sleep until I knew you were home safe"

Her lips curl in amusement. "You do realise I’ve just woken you up right?!”

Laughing softly to himself, he sits up so his knees are touching hers and their eyes lock while they share a secret smile reserved only for each other. He runs his hand through his hair and checks the time on his Rolex.

"Oh man, I didn't realise it had gotten so late....did you have a good time with your friends?"

"It was amazing. I miss seeing them...as much as I love being here with you and the boys I've realised it's still good for me to have some time for myself."

He softly skims his hands up her thighs, his slightest touch stoking the fire within.

"Of course, I want that for you too."

Leaning in to one another, the air crackles between them, their night apart building as much desire as any foreplay. As the space between them closes, their breath tangles together. The drumming of their heartbeats the only sound they can hear, until the shrill cry of Katie’s phone cuts through the air.

Pausing with their foreheads resting together they both turn to stare at it willing it to stop, but the phones persistence echoes around the room as it continues to ring.

"That'll be Jenny checking I've got home...I'd better answer or she'll keep ringing." She sighs, hesitantly pulling away from Sam while lifting the phone to her ear.

"Hey Jen.”

Sam’s whole body slouches, visibly defeated. He shakes his head before lightly kissing her cheek as he stands, the moment regrettably over.

"Goodnight Katie" he sighs quietly, so only she hear.

Jenny animatedly chatters on about the hot cab driver who asked for her number, though Katie barely hears her as she zones out watching Sam's back retreating to the boys room to check on them before he goes to bed.

"Goodnight Sam" she sighs in resignation, her words swallowed by the now empty room.

TAG list: @shewillreadyou @txemrn @silma-words @thefrenchiemama @secretaryunpaid @sfb123 @chemist-ana

- Bonus -

Text messages between Katie and Sam after the champagne.

Text messages between Robin and Sam about Katie.

Girls group chat the morning after, completely unrelated, just for fun, just to show their dynamic!

[ownworldresident]

We Are Our Own Heroes. Chapter Four: Tentative

Book: The Royal Romance, seven years post-TRR

Premise: Six years after a tragic loss, Liam and his adopted daughter meet Cassandra, an artist with her own troubled past, and the three find in each other the friend they never knew they needed.

Disclaimer: Setting and some characters belong to Pixelberry. I am just borrowing them and will return them when they feel better.

Themes: found family, (power of) friendship, healing

The Master Masterlist (link)  |  Our Own Heroes Masterlist (link)

Liam

“We’ve completed the background check you asked for, Sir.” Bastien announced from the door of Liam’s study. Liam sighed, and looked up.

“And?”

Bastien held up a manila folder. The guilt and uncertainty he felt mixed with relief at how thin it was.

“There is nothing to suggest Miss Rice has any harmful intentions.” He entered the study and placed the folder carefully on Liam’s desk. “She is Cordonian, originally from Portavira, studied fine arts and theatre abroad, and works as a temp and freelance ghostwriter for—”

“That’s enough, Bastien,” Liam interrupted. “I didn’t ask for this to pry into her private life. I just want to know whether I can trust her.” He winced at the double standard he was presenting; this wasn’t just curiosity, he reminded himself, it was assurance he and Emily would be safe. Blind trust wasn’t something he could afford.

“I believe so,” his bodyguard said, more conversationally. “Her only criminal records are parking tickets.”

Liam smiled. That was common enough. There were a lot of questions he would have liked answers to; where she had studied and why, what kind of art did she pursue, where was her family…

“Does she…” Liam’s brow creased as he considered the question, then mentally apologised to Cassie for the invasion. “Are there are partners or ex partners that could provide some risks?”

“None.” Bastien said, and when Liam looked up at him, his bodyguard shrugged.

Deciding not to pry further, Liam ended the discussion.

“If you believe she can be trusted, then I believe you.” Liam lifted the folder, removed the clips, and opened a cupboard to retrieve his shredder.

Cassie

Cassandra screamed.

The lonely peak she stood upon absorbed it and the sky answered with a sheet of lightning and close crack of thunder. Beyond the waves below the peak there was rain coming, and not a day too soon. The electricity in the heavy air vibrated through her very bones. She stamped her foot down on the craggy outcrop, balled her fists tight, and screamed again.

When the front hit, it was with a rush of cold air that buffeted her face. White peaks of the restless ocean splayed before her. They became dotted with heavy rain; she stared hard to commit the feeling and energy to memory, to burn it into her mind. There was so much anger there, but she didn't know whether it was her or the vengeance of the skies that conspired to keep her darkness.

The rain crested the peak, and for a lightning filled moment Cassandra raised her face to the broken skies with eyes shut and arms flung wide. Then thunder cracked around her, rolling against her ears, and, heart pounding, she fled.

By the time the world was awake, Cassie was heaving long breaths in front of her easel. The echo of the storm outside resonated on the canvas, with a vast expanse of swirling masses that floated at the edge of being distinguishable things.

She grinned, stepping back from her new painting. It was a story she was trying to tell, she was sure, and this part was more darkness in form than of it.

---

Cassie

Above the main city were lines of terraces stacked up onside a low mountain. Parting the upper and lower levels was an open space more familiar to locals than tourists, overlooking the main city and the bay. Cassie stood at the edge of the cobbled space, lost to the world as she stared over her city. It wasn’t the pier or the outcrop, but the dark swirling storm was as beautiful here as it would be there. There were several perfect views here for painting, in fact. Lifting her hands to make a rough square with her thumbs and forefingers and squeezing one eye shut, she imagined the image captured from different angles. Too perfect. This might be a real place, but even the organic, eclectic mix of buildings with colourful rooves… set on a backdrop of a low grey sky… there wasn’t enough grit or imperfection to translate.

Leaning her elbows against the half wall, she tried to imagine the view with a fire or collapsed building, something to put more conflict in the image. That dream kept her occupied while she waited.

“Cassie!” A young voice she knew called out behind her, and she turned to see Emily running to meet her. The girl stopped a few feet away and Cassie stood to attention to salute her.

“Hey, Em,” she said as Emily saluted her in return, “I like your shirt.” She nodded at the image of an open ocean and a few clouds. Emily looked down, then up again.

“Thanks.” Emily turned back as Liam reached them, smiling when she saw that he was.

“I hope we didn’t keep you waiting.” He smiled, but his posture was stiff. Cassie wondered what was going on behind it. Maybe she was reading too far into things.

“Not at all,” she replied, energy closer to that of Emily than of Liam. “I arrived early anyway.”

“Good.” Liam lifted an arm to point down the street. “There’s a really nice café down this way. I thought we could get lunch? If the weather holds, we might be able to sit outside.”

“Sounds perfect.” Cassie kept an eye on Emily as they walked. She looked back every so often at her father. Liam didn’t seem phased by the habit, instead walking with an absent half smile for the first part of their walk.

“How was your week?” Cassie asked after a time, not sure where else to start. Liam exhaled, and turned to her.

“Busy,” he said, still smiling, and didn’t give her much more than that.

At the café, which was more of a restaurant, Emily chose a table beneath an outdoor awning. She bee-lined for the tree-shaded playground adjacent with the decisiveness of a child who played on her own a lot. Liam watched her for a moment, and Cassie noted the dark crescents beneath his eyes.

“Thank you for meeting us,” Liam said after a time, looking over at her. His smile was tired but a little more relaxed. It was an interesting study to watch them, Cassie thought, seeing how they interacted in public, and she wondered if they were much less guarded behind closed doors.

“I seem to remember me asking you first.” She stretched, warm in the sun. “I should be thanking you for reaching out.”

Liam laughed, short and genuine, then nodded. “Why did you reach out?”

“I like your daughter, and you seem nice.” Cassie shrugged, then grinned. “Why did you?” Saved from having to answer by the arrival of their food, Liam thanked the server, and called Emily over. When the ball of energy arrived and they started eating, Cassie found herself plagued by questions from her about what she did and who she was and offered as many answers as she could. When Emily discovered she was an artist, she became more interested in that than her food.

“Would you like to see some of my work?” Cassie asked, already pulling the ever-present sketchbook from her bag and handing it over. Emily reached for it, nodding profusely.

“Yes please!”

“Fingers.” Liam reminded her, and Emily glanced at her hands, wiped the sauce from them with a napkin, then took the sketchbook and started flipping through.

“I wish I could draw…” she commented absentmindedly as she flipped through the pages. Liam looked surprised, and Cassie wondered whether she had expressed that wish before.

“I could teach you, if you like,” she said, and Emily looked up, grinning.

“Thank you!” She glanced at her father, who nodded, smiling, then turned back to the pages. Liam began to speak but was cut off by Emily’s laugh.

“You drew Drake?” Emily looked up again, wide-eyed. Cassie shrugged. She had written the man’s name in the corner of the sketch.

“I met him at a bar the other day.”

“His face looks exactly right.” Emily lifted the page for Liam to see. “Doesn’t he?”

“Do you know him?” Cassie frowned as Liam inspected the page.

“Very well.”

“Are you dating him?” Emily’s innocent question caught her off-guard, and both of them sent her questioning looks, though Liam’s was tinged with amusement.

“Definitely not.” She reached for her coffee, then realised how forceful her answer had been, and added, “He seems like a nice guy, but no.”

Far from relaxing, Liam seemed even more surprised, and looked away from her when she caught his eye, which confused her. Had she given the wrong impression? If he was offended he would say something, she believed him frank enough for that. Maybe not in front of Emily.

As soon as the latter had finished her food and waited the several fidgety minutes that her father requested, she raced off to the playground again, scaling the climbing frame with ease and dancing across the top as if she’d been born there.

“Dating?” Cassie asked Liam for clarification.

“She gets some… interesting information from her school friends. And movies don’t help either.” He shrugged, but there was a little unease in his manner.

“Must bring up some interesting discussions.”

“Sometimes.” He smiled, then frowned, focused on something on Cassie’s shirt. “Your necklace.”

Cassie looked down to see that the small chain had come free from her shirt, and reached up to touch the smooth diamond shaped flag: black, grey, white and purple.

“Do you know it?”

“I do.” He smiled, nodded as if with some new understanding, and sat back.

Her orientation wasn’t something she had come prepared to openly discuss, so she was glad Liam was aware of the community. She tucked the flag back beneath her shirt and let the subject end there.

Left alone with Liam, it wasn’t lost on her that barely any of their conversation centred on him as a person. She had no trouble being open about most parts of herself, and they talked about general topics, but Liam only spoke of things she could discover easily enough in a newspaper, or seemed near inconsequential to disclose.

They parted in the middle of the afternoon, when Emily returned, exhausted, to bury her face in Liam’s side. Taking that as a queue to let the girl go home and rest, they walked back to where they had met up, Emily half leaning on Liam, though Cassie half suspected it was for dramatic effect.

Cassandra

Cassie spent the next few days busy and inspired, her confidence bolstered by her time with Liam and Emily. The large canvas was still blank, but she had moved it behind a couple of finished pieces and was focusing on the smaller ones, less daunted by it being empty. An overcast day had cast some more drama over the beach she frequented, and she had spent some time photographing it to paint at home and letting the salty wind and light rain sink into her to remember the feeling.

She didn’t see Liam at Emily’s training, but did see him at the game, and they had agreed to meet afterwards. Her team didn’t win, which left them a little downhearted after three straight victories but didn’t curb Cassie’s optimism. They left much less dejected, and while she packed up she ran through ways to help them in their next training session. Liam and Emily met her outside.

“Ready?” asked Liam, and the lower guard in his smile heightened Cassie’s spirits as she nodded in response. Emily dragged her feet, and Cassie knelt to face her.

“You tried your best, Em, right up till the end, and that takes a lot of courage.” She ducked her head a little to Emily’s tired, downcast face. “There will always be losses. What matters most is how we come back from them.”

Emily’s frown lifted into a tiny smile. “That’s what Dad said.”

Cassie looked up to Liam, whose eyes crinkled as he watched them. “That’s because your dad is a very wise man.” She stood. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” Emily turned back to Liam, smiling again.

“You too, Panda.” He turned toward the emptying car park. “Ready for that movie?”

Nodding, Emily started again toward the car.

“Wherever your mother is now, I’m sure she would be very proud.”

Cassie knew it was a mistake the moment she said it. Emily stopped, and though Cassie couldn’t see her face, she felt the shock. Liam schooled a patient expression, approached Emily and squeezed her hand. She looked up to him.

“Dad?”

“It’s okay, Emily.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, voice low and soothing. “I’m here.”

“I’m sorry.” Cassie clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes darting between the two as her heart dropped. “I shouldn’t have said… I’m sorry…”

Liam turned to her now. “Give us a few minutes?”

Cassie nodded, staying back from the two and wringing her hands. The mask of Emily’s father broke when they made eye contact and some of the pain seeped through. Familiar pain. Liam picked up his daughter and walked away.

The official story read that Emily was Liam’s god-daughter, and he had taken her in after her parents had died in an accident. It explained the hypersensitivity to loud noises Emily had displayed in the past and perhaps her need to keep Liam within her sight.

Around the time the media excitement had been dying down, Cassie arrived back from studying abroad. She had followed the attempt on Liam’s life, the ensuing turmoil, and a bit about Emily’s sudden appearance, but hadn’t realised how much Cordonia had been obsessed with it until she landed. It had seemed disproportionate to the tragic circumstance, confirmed when Liam gave a public statement reaffirming some facts and refuting a few less accurate reports, and requesting privacy. Cassie’s friend had been disappointed, but it had been a long time since they had spoken.

——

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[omgkalyppso]

for fae and the rest of the poly - 💕💖💍

(ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ Thank you for the ask! May your favorite kind of weather surround you soon!

💕 Describe an ideal date form them!

Claude is quick on his feet and can adapt, but he doesn't like doing anything he hasn't planned five exits to and at least two alternatives for. Hilda doesn't enjoy exerting herself, but she's still extroverted enough to want to be admired Doing Something (if only by her partners) and can easily be goaded if she's comfortable. Lorenz likes the arts, or to bear witness to any skill performed well. Fae likes trying new skills and group activities. An ideal date is one that's planned and includes some measure of exterior activity performed together: like watching theater or seeing an art exhibit or learning to surf or trying wall-climbing.

💖 What are some little subtle ways they show that they love each other?

Modern:

Claude changes his (and consequently everyone's) diet to suit Hilda's dietary restrictions. Fae makes ice; they've never thought about making ice, but they've seen the others drinking beverages with ice, so they start making ice to have ready. Realizing that her "turn" for most major cleaning duties never really seems to come up, Hilda tentatively starts light cleaning and organizing, fearful of the mockery of her childhood home, until she's able to ask for help with bigger tasks. Lorenz picks up texting patterns and music preferences based on influences of his partners.

Post canon / any setting:

Lorenz leave notes everywhere, little poems and soft words — but what is really important is when he is willing to write in the company of his partners, unafraid of people hovering over his shoulder because he trusts them not to. Claude being able / willing to "needlessly" share a bed for the purpose of sleep with his partners. Hilda sees three of the most touch-starved people / ex (?) fighters she's ever met in her life and decides she'll learn something about massages. Abuses Divine Pulse less and less, or abuses Divine Pulse the least, when with their partners, feeling very rarely that they've flubbed something unforgivable and that whatever they've said or done or experienced is fine as it is (in settings other than post canon just translate this to: feels less anxious after interactions that include their partners than otherwise. lol. I've like never written Fae outside of the company of their partners except some of Expanded Epilogue but even then they were only interacting with like Seteth and Alois who are also Family so.).

💍 Which one of them would propose? How would it happen? (or write if you feel like it!)

I love different versions of this. Unfortunately for everyone I am sharing a lot of my thoughts.

In my post-canon I don't have them all marry. I could change it, but I think they're fine as they are, dedicated and happy and more subtle. I count Claude's Goddess Tower proposal, and am excited to Eventually write Lorenz proposing to Hilda in my Hilorenz fic. It will happen.

In Fae-as-a-student au, I've been undecided about whether Fae or Hilda or BOTH leave with Claude to Almyra for a time post-canon, leaving Lorenz behind in Gloucester, BUT I absolutely imagine the four of them together, discussing the departure, and giving Lorenz the proposal, initially a soft, blurted, "Marry me." So that the others ask him if the proposal is reserved for Claude (whom he's looking at because at least Claude is absolutely leaving), and he can clarify that he doesn't just mean Claude and that they don't have to make a public ceremony or announcement until their / his return, but that he would like to make a promise, with those who would have him, before they leave, to keep them from forgetting him when they're far and away.

In A Comedy of Errors modern au, it's less a proposal than a conversation for Lorenz and Hilda to marry. Wait. I have a (bad) text conversation that I thought I might write a fic around once:

Hilda: we should get married

Claude: this is hands down, the worst proposal

Hilda: i'm not proposing!

Hilda: i just want to talk about it

Fae: is that about your insurance?

Hilda: no! .... not entirely

Hilda: what if Claude died in Almyra

Claude: thanks

Hilda: at least one of us would be able to find out about it from the authorities directly

Lorenz: now i want someone to divorce me. please take half my assets

Claude: i'll divorce you baby

Fae: grounds for divorce, right there in one pet name

Hilda: i'm not feeling heard here

Fae: i'm sorry hilda

Lorenz: sorry hilda

Claude: i would marry any of you, or all of you. is there a way you'd be picturing this?

Hilda: well, i figure it would be easier on Lorenz if he married me

Lorenz: marginally true

Claude: /:

Lorenz: you know i love you Claude but ......... my father's still alive and if we're relying on "at least he'll be dead soon" then i don't need to be written out of a will

Lorenz: and i might literally explode if i had to sit through him misgendering Fae for his last few years

Fae: <3

Lorenz: :kiss emoji:

Claude: was this your very roundabout way about asking if it was okay to marry Lorenz?

Hilda: no. i'm willing to hear other suggestions

Fae: i just don't want to sleep alone anymore

Lorenz: </3

Claude: awww

Hilda: ):

Lorenz: are you home now? i could visit for ... 45 minutes maybe?

Claude: just enough time (;

Fae: i am home

Lorenz: Give me ... half an hour

Lorenz: but first. we can do legal weddings whenever we want. i think we should get married.

Claude returns from Almyra a week or so before the wedding, by which time Fae has moved in with Lorenz and Hilda. Claude is earlier than he was expected, as his surprise to them, and they cherish the time. Four days or so after the wedding the four of them go on a date to an observatory where Fae proposes to Claude under the stars. (:

In my soulmate au, there is a proposal incoming by the end of the fic. Claude is going to ask Fae if they'd be comfortable with him proposing to Lorenz, or else offer to put it off, saying he's more confident with how Hilda will react because of their history. I'm still undecided if Claude should prepare something that amounts to a favorite meal for Lorenz in their apartment with the four of them or take them out to a park or beach or mountain or something, where he and Lorenz could have a moment alone. I'm also undecided how many hits Claude should drop in advance (his ... canon self is Not Subtle) but I hadn't planned on dropping them prior to the new year chapter which has finally happened. I think it would be another year or three before Fae and Hilda considered marrying and haven't given it too much thought aside from that. Fae would propose.

Hm, I can have more.

In Just Go With It modern au, Claude remembers the date of their first 'date,' and calls it an anniversary and only he is prepared for the first one, which he expects and is very smug about. It's not a milestone number, but for their fourth anniversary Hilda spends time (like a full year) talking herself into and out of and back again — the act of making rings for her partners, and whether or not they'll be a proposal or just a gift.

In my mermaid au they never have a formal proposal or ceremony.

In my fantasy au, Fae was 70 years a vampire when they met Claude, and they were together for 40 years before Claude proposed, and then they had their children and played at being family and "mundane" for some hundreds of years. They do something like this again when they marry Hilda and Lorenz a year or two after meeting them, again at Claude's proposal.

In my coffeeshop au, Hilda realizes she's pregnant with (Halvard) Lorenz's child and she "proposes" to Claude to start the legal tangle of custody so that they can each have some attachment to their son.

[halo-jpeg]

Bearable | A Reddie Fanfiction

Read it from the beginning

Chapter 1

"Bill, why? Why would you say yes to that party? We don't know him! What if he's some serial killer? What if he tries to get us to do drugs? What if he kills us or lives in a dumpster or something?" Eddie is erratic, his drink still in his hand. They were hardly off the block of the little cafe known as Portland Authentic. Eddie hadn't been too fond of the guy behind the counter, mostly because he had written 'Eds' on his coffee cup. "I mean- we only just got to Portland and you're already going to get us killed or something!"

"Eddie, it'll be fine," Stan is the one to cut in with reassurance, taking a sip from his own cup and somehow not flinching at the taste of the straight caffeine, "Yeah, he was a little energetic but he didn't seem malicious. I think it'll be a good opportunity to get to know some new people." Eddie opened his mouth to speak, but Bill beat him to it, and no one had the disrespect to talk over Bill. That was just... off limits, so Eddie shut his mouth again and tried not to grimace.

"Buh-buh-besides," He started, one hand in the pocket of his jeans, the other soaking up the warmth of his cinnamon cappuccino, "It'll be guh-good to get out and see what kind of people Portland has to offer." With that, the discussion was closed, and Eddie let it drop with just a sigh, trying to shake away the lingering annoyance clinging to his mind. There were too many good things about Portland to worry about the bad things- in just a few days he would be working towards his dream as a doctor- he had always wanted to be a doctor. When he was younger, he had wanted his career to be within the health arena for the sake of reassuring his mother that he could take care of himself without being stuck behind a desk- now, though, he wanted to become a doctor to prove his mother wrong, to learn all sorts of things that would help him confirm that he wasn't sick, and had never been sick like Sonia Kaspbrak had said he was.

The rest of the walk back home was near silent, consisting of craned necks and obvious gawking- Portland really was gorgeous, and so different from Derry. Rather than the tiny, modest homes Eddie and his friends grew up knowing, almost everything in the downtown area was some form of 19th century architecture or something alike- each building consisted of warm tones, arched windows, grand streetlamps with pots of colourful flowers. Eddie can't even imagine what it must look like in the daylight.

"Oh, here's my work," Stan said, seeming not to have realized what street they were wandering down. The three halted outside of a small flower shop, Roses on Deane, and approached the large, open windows in the front. The lights were out inside, obviously, but it was still possible to make out the shapes of many many bouquets. Stan had managed to score a job a few months back thanks to a cousin who had a friend who owned the place, and though Stan never considered himself a huge fan of flowers, Eddie could see how the place would fit him. At least one of them had a job- Eddie shudders to think that there is yet another huge thing he needs to get done this weekend. If he doesn't have a job by next weekend then he won't be able to pitch in to help with rent. Bill, who had been working at the library back home, had been transferred here too, so he was also getting payed bi-weekly. Eddie was alone in his unemployment, but that was okay. He was smart, and efficient, and he would get a job sooner or later somewhere.

"When do you start?" He asked, finally bringing his rapidly-cooling drink up to his lips. He braced himself for a horrid taste, taking a slow, tentative sip, and almost letting a sound of approval slip past his lips. It didn't... It didn't taste horrible. Peppermint was okay, in his opinion, and it balanced out the bitterness of the coffee just right.

"Tuesday at 5:00," Stan took one last glance through the window, smiling serenely and turning to continue on to their new apartment. Again, the three fell into silence, calm and comfortable. They walked another three blocks before spotting their building, and Bill was the one to pull out an access card to scan at the door. Their bags were already up in their house, and Eddie had even made a few comments on how he appreciated the security. Electronic locks were unheard of to Eddie until today, and he was pleased. Now, he was too exhausted to be pleased. His coffee had him buzzing, and he would force himself to stay awake until his suitcase was unpacked, but he couldn't wait to curl up in his new bed, away from his hometown for the first time in years.

"We'll have to go grocery shopping tuh-tomorrow," Bill hummed half to himself as he stepped into the elevator, clicking the button labeled with a '2'. "We won't have any fuh-fuh-food. I'll buy us breakfast in the morning."

"Thanks, Bill," Stan smiles, "We can make a meal plan, budget things out. Just to make sure we can always make rent." Eddie nodded along, and took another long sip of the minty-bitter drink in his hand.

"We should go look at the campus. I want to find out where my classes are, maybe." Eddie found himself rocking back and forth on his heels, watching the little glowing number above the elevator buttons blink from 'G' to '1' to, at last, '2'. With a ding, the doors slid open, and a dim hallway was presented to them, the lights on low now that it was just about 10:00 pm.

"I want to go see Back Cove Park at some point. The bird watching is great. They have egrets sometimes, and other birds I haven't seen yet. I always go there when I visit- it's like tradition." Stifling a yawn (not because of the bird talk- Eddie was just tired) Eddie nodded his head. In all honesty, a nature walk sounded nice. Already, he was missing the Barrens, the poor dam he remembers building with Bill ages and ages ago. "It's right on the water, so we can go fishing too, or swimming if you guys wanted to. It isn't always as warm as it is tonight, and it's only getting colder, but..." Stan shrugs. They arrive at their apartment door, number 29, and yet again Bill is the one to pull out his key and stick it into the lock, giving it a twist and pushing the door wide open. Eddie steps inside first, flicking on the light and taking in the sight of his new apartment.

The door opened up into a short hallway. To his direct right there was a door leading to a small closet. A little ways ahead, the hallway broke both left and right, the left way leading to the kitchen and living room along with the doors to the balcony and Bill's room- in turn, the right way led to the main bathroom and the two other bedrooms reserved for Eddie and Stan.

"Wuh-well, I guess this is goodnight," Bill says, shutting the door behind him and kicking off his shoes, "We all have a l-lot of unpacking to do, I'm sh-sure." Both Stan and Eddie nod in near-perfect unison.

"Goodnight, you guys. Enjoy your first sleep in our new house." Stan speaks with a grin, staring at both Eddie and Bill with that intense hazel gaze that seems to communicate the intense reality of the situation. The three men had made it out of their childhood town, and now they were living on their own. They really weren't children anymore. Along with that look in Stan's eyes came a heavy feeling of bittersweetness- Derry was gone, now, and with it, Eddie's childhood. He smiled at his two best friends, and then turned down the hallway to greet his room.

-----

"Alright, that's everything," Ben says as the doors to the cafe swing shut and he locks them tight.

"Another job well done, boy! Another fantastic job, I'd say!" Richie throws one arm over Ben's shoulders, and then the other pulls in Bev by the arm. Crushing his two buddies in a double side-hug, he speaks in his almost-perfected MovieTone Newsreel Announcer Voice, disturbing the silence of the dark Portland streets, "You're both quite the caffeine-mixin' maestros, eh? You'll do great things for this world, great things!"

"Beep-beep, Richie. I'm exhausted." Beverly was smiling, sure, but Richie really could tell that she was done with today. He let both she and Ben go, toning down his behavior and pulling out a pack of cigarettes, offering one to each along with his lighter. Ben declined as politely as possible, so Richie and Bev were left to smoke without him.

"You'll get those beers for me, won't you?" Richie asks, taking a drag and relishing in the way the smoke filled his lungs. He should probably quit sooner or later, huh? Maybe one day. "I've got the cash back home. I'll give it to you and you can just go buy whatever you want. Party booze of your choice." Ben let out a chuckle, waving a hand in front of his face to show his dislike of the cigarette smoke. Richie mumbled something akin to an apology.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get it. And don't worry about paying me back, I'll be drinking it too." Richie beamed. With a light punch to the shoulder, he turned his attention to Bev, ready to play a little bit of Cupid.

"You're coming too, right Bevvie?" He asked the question as if it were nothing, oh-so subtly bumping Ben with his elbow. Beverly shrugged.

"Probably. It's basically a sin to miss out on an infamous Tozier party, isn't it?" She placed the cigarette against her lips, and puffed out smoke right after. "What else is happening other than drinking too much and getting the Police called on us for being too loud?" Richie couldn't help but snicker at that. The Police had, on numerous occasions, been called on him for playing his music at ungodly levels, but, I mean, come on, he has fantastic taste and the world needs to know it.

"Who knows, maybe some pin the tail on the donkey? Musical chairs?" Ben and Beverly both let out a snort, the redhead spinning to face Richie with suddenly bright eyes.

"Please," She said with a wide, bright smile, "I would pay to see you get annihilated by Ben."

"Excuse me, Miss Marsh, but I pride myself on being a musical chairs master! I was unbeatable in my fifth grade class!" Placing a feign-offended hand on his chest, Richie guffawed, upturning his nose in mock disgust. Beverly was laughing now, a light and cheery sound almost like the jingling of the bell in the cafe but a little less annoying. The bell also didn't make Ben's face light up, and he didn't want to hear the bell forever.

"Probably because you were built like string cheese, Richie- No offense, of course." Beverly only laughed harder at Ben's quip, and yeah, Richie admits that it was pretty good and about 99% true.

"The best damn string cheese you've ever tasted, Haystack," Richie shot his friend a wink, lifting one foot and crushing his cigarette out on the sole of his shoe, "Now, my dearests, I must depart- nice work we did today, you two!" Richie flicked the butt away, speaking over his shoulder as he set off in the direction of home. "I'll see you both at my party!" He spins on his heel, waving Ben and Bev off with one last peace sign before continuing on into the darkness. Richie hummed a little tune to himself, a pep in his step despite his light tiredness. Oh, how he wanted to get home- the idea of cracking open a soda and sitting in front of the TV sounded pretty damn great right about now. For a Friday night the world was surprisingly quiet- the same wouldn't be said about tomorrow. Toziers were born to party. Richie's dad had thrown some ragers in his teenage days, and so had his mom- now, it was his turn to take on the family name and keep that legacy going. Other than beer he probably needed some snacks, chips or cookies or as Ben had so wonderfully suggested string cheese because who doesn't like string cheese? He made a mental note to go grocery shopping tomorrow and hoped that he didn't forget it.

Richie's apartment came into view, a pretty little six floor building made of a nice red brick. He lived on the top floor and his neighbors probably hated him for reasons that should be obvious enough but he'd yet to be kicked out which meant he still had some boundaries to push. He'd been brewing up a new party playlist for a few days now and he made yet another mental note to throw on 'Dancing Queen'. Richie's humming transformed into whistling as he pulled open the door to his building, waving to the late-night receptionist, a kind young lady who hated his guts and probably thought he was flirting with her all the time when he really didn't even swing that way.

"Good evening, m'lady," He said with a goofy, lopsided grin, earning a scowl over the top of a home-deco magazine, "Quite the swell night it is," He didn't linger long, pressing the call button for the elevator and stepping inside. He tapped '6' and waited, his spirits high, excited for tomorrow. He liked getting ready for parties. He liked the decorations he always put up, the arrangement of the snacks that he put too much thought into, and the anticipation of being the host because that always meant most eyes were on him. Up up up the elevator went, and let out a happy little ding as the doors peeled back open and he went right to his door. Richie pulled out his keys, jamming them into the doorknob and pushing the door open to reveal the space inside. "Honey, I'm home!" He called out the words, arms out at his side in a motion of grandeur. Of course, there was no response, and he kicked the door shut with his heel. Richie tossed his keys onto the little table by the door, toeing off each shoe in turn and leaving them discarded in the middle of the entryway.

"Hey there, babes," His first stop was the fish tank on the kitchen counter, packed with swimming little neon tetra and angelfish and Richie's prized bala shark he named Bella- creative, he knows- to sprinkle in some food. The little jar was just beside the aquarium, and he popped off the lid, shaking it above the open water and watching his little pals swim forth for their dinner. With his lasting grin, Richie let out a chuckle, his heart swelling at the sight of his aquatic children as he set the food back on the counter and took a step away. His own stomach let out a growl, and he realized for the first time that he hasn't eaten since after his last class, way back at 3:00. Popping open his fridge, Richie scanned it's contents- yep, he really needed to go get food tomorrow. There was next to nothing. He settled half-reluctantly on some month-old instant ramen and cooked it up with ease. Richie hadn't had instant ramen in ages, but there was a good amount of nostalgia contained within the simple dish. It had carried him through high school one plastic cup at a time, helping him fight through long nights of studying and even a nasty breakup.

The microwave let out three beeps, calling out 'Hey! I'm done, come eat me!' with each and every one. Richie ate it as he hastily cleaned up the kitchen, throwing dishes in the dishwasher and even taking the time to watch a casserole dish by hand, putting on his playlist but keeping the speakers on a low volume for the sake of his neighbors. No more than 15 minutes passed and then he was done, finally allowing himself to do what he's been anticipating all day. With a Pepsi in hand, he made the couch his home, curling up in a knitted blanket and tuning into 'Friends'. As he watched, one eye always on the TV, he snatched the black nail polish from it's spot on the coffee table and began to paint it over the chipped remnants of what was already there. At some point, after they'd dried, he ended up falling asleep on the sofa.