#I say this with nothing but affection in my heart. 'good riddance.'

[scribbleboxfox]

I haven't even watched the new RvB yet and I already know I'm not going to like it and that it will probably be super forgettable.

Anyways the show should've ended after S13 imo. Glad they've finally euthanized the damn thing, but it should've happened sooner.

[wonderlandwalker]

Desperate Measures | Remus Lupin x Reader

Marauders Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: (Part 1: Desperate Times) After your break-up Remus doesn't know what to do with himself, but when he finally gets to see you again he promises himself to make it up to you by any means he can

Content Warnings/Tags: fluff, small amount of angst, big amount of smut, minord dni, 18+, unedited writing, still not sure if smut is my strong suit but won't stop me from trying

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: A lot has happened while I took a break from writing for a little while but it basically comes down to the fact that I still struggle with my mental health on a daily basis and writing isn't always my priority. While I do not plan to stop writing any time soon, the intervals of them will probably continue to stay longer. So thank you to everyone who has the patience to wait. Anyway, today is my birthday, so this is my small gift to all of you for the occasion xx

His friends didn't dare say anything, no, they could see how he was doing, they didn't need to ask. So they let him sulk, and it's not like they hadn't tried to cheer him up, but there was nothing that seemed to work. Not the speech from James, not the distractions Sirius tried, and not even the chocolate muffins Peter swiped from the kitchen could get a smile on his face. Just letting him wait it out seemed like the best option. But as time continued to pass and Remus continued to sulk, they realised a more hands-on approach was needed.

They weren't sure if talking to you would go over well, so they decided to test the waters by talking to your friends.

"What do you want Potter" Lily glared at James as he sat down next to her.

"Don't you think it's time she apologizes"

Now see, all of them were used to the incredulous looks Lily would give James, but this one beat the record.

"What in the seven hells are you on about"

"Remus has suffered enough, he hasn't left the dorm in nearly a week."

"So?"

"So. Whatever fight they had she clearly seems fine" he gestured over to where you were sitting a little further away, breaking your pastry up into small bits to eat as you laughed with Marlene over some joke he couldn't hear.

"Don't you think she should apologise to him by now, they always make up eventually"

Lily dropped the exasperated expression as her face turned to stone while she spoke her next words.

"Yes, James, she seems fine. I found her crying her eyes out on the bathroom floor. Just because she is coping better than Remus doesn't entitle him to anything. "

James's overconfident demeanour dropped slightly. He had been worried about his friend all this time, he hadn't stopped to look at how it affected you. But when paying closer attention he could see Lily was right, there were bags under your eyes and they were still a little red, you must have cried even more after the night Lily was talking about.

"You know I care for her as well, but Remus is being stubborn, he won't even talk to us, won't even tell us what happened, we just thought that if she saw the state he is in, she'd maybe forgive him, get through to him"

"There is nothing to get through about. He broke up with her, now he's suffering the consequences, good riddance if you ask me"

Now it was James' turn to look startled

"Hang on a second. They broke up?" Lily copied his expression

"Yes they broke up, what did you idiots think was going on"

"We figured they fought, they fight sometimes but they always make up" Lily started shaking her head as she answered him.

"Not this time, he broke her heart, James. Even if he did regret it, I'm not sure she'd forgive him, and I don't think she should either"

Taking a last look at you, James bolted from the table. All this time they had simply assumed he was irritable because of a fight, but you had broken up. Not only that, it was Remus that had broken up with you. No, this would surely not do, not if they could help it.

Over the next few days, they came up with a plan to, in the easiest of terms, get Remus to beg for forgiveness. It all started with the party

"I'm really not in the mood Sirius" Remus was stretching time the most he could, but Sirius wasn't letting up.

"You've been cooked up in that bed for nearly two weeks now, people are starting to wonder if we've killed you with one of our pranks. Besides, if nothing else there'll be liquor, liquor solves everything"

Normally Remus would have argued, but strangely enough, this time Sirius had a point. But Sirius had a mission too. Yes, he was following the plan step by step. He had talked to Marlene, who had promised to get you to the party as well, which was probably a much easier task than he had been left with, seeing how after last week you had decided it was no use sitting around moping any longer.

He dragged Remus down to the party going on in the Gryffindor common room, poured him a glass of the strongest thing he could find, and got him settled on the couch. For a moment he debated getting Remus to dance, but that might have been a bit too ambitious. Either way, Remus was here now, Sirius's part was done.

Remus saw you standing on the other side of the room, and either you hadn't noticed him yet or you were simply ignoring him, but you seemed to be in your own world. And he was fine with looking at you from where he was, after all, that's the fate he had resigned himself to. He was fine with watching you because you seemed like you were enjoying yourself.

But it didn't take long for his so-called plan to crumble down like a poorly constructed house of cards. Because he saw someone walk up to you, he saw someone get close to you, someone who wasn't supposed to.

What was Evan Rosier doing at a Gryffindor party? But he didn't have much time to think about it, because he saw Evan walk up from behind you, and at first you seemed startled, but when you turned around to face him you seemed to light up. You pushed up on your toes to hug him and Remus's stomach started to twist. Not in the way it always used to when it came to you. His insides used to do somersaults every time he got a smile out of you. No matter how sour of a mood he was in, it would light him up.

His friends used to poke fun at him for it, but they soon realized you were the only thing that would cheer him up when their usual methods had run out, and they surrendered to the spell you seemed to have him under.

But this was nothing like that. Evan secured his arms around you and you let him, why did you let him? He knew he had been avoiding you, but he couldn't have missed this much. He sat there and watched, his body seemed to have turned to stone as if you had been Medusa herself. His eyes he couldn't keep off you, it was only when Evan pulled back that he thought the nausea that had bubbled up in his stomach would disappear, but he couldn't have been more wrong. Because the moment he did, Evan took off his jacket, and put it around you. The green colour of it engulfed you and Remus was filled with it just the same.

He felt as if he wasn't in control of his own body as he stood up from the couch, walking in your direction. He wasn't even sure what he would say, what he would do, but he could no longer sit and watch idly. So when Remus reached you he did the only thing that made sense to him, he pulled you in and kissed you. He kissed you like he had thought about doing every minute for the last few weeks. He had wondered if your lips were still as soft as they used to be, what a stupid question, he thought now, of course they were.

For just a second his life is back the way it should be, you're kissing him as if it's pure muscle memory, and perhaps it is because only a moment later you seem to come to your senses and pull away. But you're still looking at him, and your eyes have him just as Enchanted as the first time he saw you. He recognizes a small sparkle in them and promises himself to make it ablaze again.

"Can we talk, please" He is ready to get down on his knees and beg you, because he doesn't know if he can stand being without you anymore. He would drop to the floor and grovel for your forgiveness if that was what it took, but of course, you don't make him. Even before he's always been ready to tear his heart from his chest and give it to you the moment you requested so. He would watch it continue to beat as he ripped it out because by now it was entirely yours anyway, it wouldn't stop as long as you were near, wouldn't dare let you down.

You nod your head to the stairs leading up to the dorms and he walks with you until you're in the dorm, the door shutting behind you. He wants to push you up against the door and trail kisses down your neck like he used to, but he can tell you have something to say, so he sits down on the foot of your bed, trying not to fidget with his hands too much.

"You really hurt me Remus" The way your eyebrows slightly pinch together and the slight pout on your face makes him once again regret every single word he uttered that night. He's trying to think of what to say, how to continue. Because he's gotten this far and he's determined not to mess up again. But what is there to say, what can he say other than the fact that he's sorry, which seems like too much of an understatement for the situation he created.

"I know" is all he can come up with, and it's true, he spent so much time thinking about what he had done and how it had hurt you.

"I don't know if I'm ready to just move on as if nothing happened"

"I know" Remus wants to smack his own head for his response. This was his one chance to make it right and he couldn't even form a coherent thought.

"I'm sorry" is all he can say next, and he wants to smack himself again for the oversimplification. But you look at him as if it's enough, as if you know the weight those words truly hold behind them. He wouldn't be surprised if you could see right into his mind, you've always been able to read him so well.

"Please let me make it up to you, I promise I will" You look at him again, and walk closer to where he is sitting.

"How exactly do you propose to do that?" Your tone has shifted, and he's still nervous, but no longer for the same reason. It's the kind of nervous jitters he still gets when he's close to you, the kind that makes him want to pin you down underneath him and spend eternity looking at you. Except this time he's not sure what to do. He usually knows exactly what you want, has got your body memorised like a map that leads to treasure. But now he needs to tread more lightly, not taking any chance of having read it wrong.

But you walk towards him until you've slotted yourself between his open legs, and he knows it is all going to be okay, because you start to softly move your hands through his hair in a way that makes his head spin, and he grounds himself by pulling you closer, hugging his face to your stomach. He lets himself enjoy it for a few seconds before he remembers the promise he just made.

He starts to leave small kisses going up your torso, and ghosts his fingers over the back of your thighs as you're still standing in front of him. He holds your body closer to his and hears a small moan leave your mouth. And it's only softly, but he hears it, and it’s his sign not to stop.

His hands move with a mind of their own, trailing further up until he reaches under your skirt, finding the soft flesh of your ass and giving it a gentle squeeze before he retracts one of his hands to slap it. And now he’s sure, because the sound that leaves you is no longer hesitant, it's pleading. He grabs onto your legs and flips you over onto the bed behind him, your head hitting the pillow as he hovers over you.

You move to kiss him, and he doesn't dare refuse. It’s different from earlier, more desperate. Not only his but your emotions showing through it, it's harsh, too much teeth, too forceful, but he can't find it in himself to mind. He kisses you back with just as much passion, and while he could spend eternity like this, he had something else in mind for now. So he moves his lips down your neck, and you arch into him immediately, giving him better access to the spot he’s looking for.

“Remus please” he doesn't need to be told twice, not today at least. His hands inch up underneath your shirt, delicately moving it up your body until it reaches your head, and you don’t hesitate to shrug it off and throw it off the bed. He’s enthralled for a moment, the sight before his eyes so familiar yet so captivating.

He makes quick work of his own shirt and moves back to leave open-mouth kisses down your chest as his hands once again travel down. But he doesn't make you wait long, because it’s followed by him moving your underwear to the side, sliding his fingers over your folds, feeling how wet you already are for him. His mouth is still busy on your chest, reacting to the sounds you make as he’s sucking bruises into your skin. With his free hand he tugs down your bra, finally giving him full access to your chest. The moment his mouth grazes over your nipple you moan out his name and he starts circling your clit before inserting two of his fingers into you. Your body immediately remembers the feeling and he can feel you already starting to clench around him, but he’s not about to question it. He’s still using his thumb to trace patterns onto your clit as he moves his fingers in and out of you, searching for the spot he knows will make you see the stars. He curls them once again and from the sounds leaving you he knows he’s found it, relentlessly hitting it as if it's his only goal in life, and right now it is.

It doesn't take much longer until you’re panting and writhing underneath him, and he has to use his free hand to pin your hips down on the mattress. As moans and whispers of his name continue to stream from you he wonders how he ever thought he could make peace with never hearing you say his name again, but he doesn't dwell on it for long as he feels you spasming around his fingers, clenching as if your body is trying to keep him there. He coaxes you through it until your breathing turns back to normal and he pulls his fingers out, hovering back over you as he cleans them off with his mouth, humming at the taste.

You’re starting to come back down from your haze and he can feel your hands travelling over his body before one of them drags over the bulge in his trousers. The friction makes him close his eyes and sighs, dropping his head in the crook of your neck. You’re trying to undo his belt when he snaps back to reality, catching your hands in his own as he stops you.

“What’s wrong?” The concern in your voice makes him want to soothe away any worries you might be carrying, and he’s quick to tell you.

“Nothing’s wrong darling, I’m just not finished apologizing yet.” It’s not that he doesn't want to feel your hands on him, pumping him as he loses his composure, but he’s already painfully hard from making you cum on his fingers, and he wasn't finished.

And so with a final kiss to your lips he shifts back down your body until he's face to face with your pussy. You’re fidgeting underneath him and he uses his hands to lock your legs in place, holding them open so he can do exactly as he wants. He starts by tickling your inner thighs with kisses, enjoying the feeling of your skin against his. Normally he would take his time, get you desperate underneath him, but he’s the desperate one now, so he doesn't waste any more time. His tongue flattens out over your entrance and a whine of his name leaves your mouth, followed by more moans that make him rut into the mattress, seeking for some friction of his own.

He distracts himself by massaging the fat of your thighs, trailing over the stretch marks he adores. You're rutting your hips into his mouth and when your hand finds purchase in his hair, tugging on it as his tongue enters your folds, he no longer tries to hold back. His attack on you is so sweetly malicious, your taste intoxicating hum further than any liquor could, he grinds down and moans into you. The vibrations make your breath hitch and he can feel you getting close again. The soft pleas and whines coming from you are a melody he will orchestrate for as long as he can, his nose bumps against your clit as his tongue is still busy lapping up your juices and it makes you twitch under him.

“That's it darling, cum all over my tongue” He's craving it just as much himself, every shaky breath from you and every time he feels you clench he gets closer to his own high. All he wants to do is get you there so he can let go himself. He doubles his efforts, remembering what you like, listening to your body react, and with his mouth still busy between your legs you suddenly go still, your body motionless except for the small flexes of the muscles in your thighs. He knows better than to stop, coaxing you further until the filthiest of moans come from your mouth, relentlessly thanking him, although he's certain he should be the one thanking you.

He's still chasing your sweet taste as he can feel his cock straining impossibly hard, the tip pulsating as he finds his own release, too caught up in you to even care that he is coming in his trousers, whines leaving his mouth as he still laps up anything you give him. He doesn't stop until you push his head away and he glances up at your face, a thin layer of sweat glistening above your eyebrows. You're radiating pure ecstasy and he can't help but smile at the sight. You silently ask him to come up by tugging the back of his neck towards you and he wouldn't even dream of doing anything other than complying.

“I've missed you Remmy” it's barely there, your voice a whisper in the now quiet room, but it's more than enough for him. He leaves featherlight kisses over your face, from your forehead to your cheekbone and finally finding his final destination on your lips. It's soft, sensual and full of pent up emotions and apologies, but the way in which you settle yourself next to him, cuddling into him with a content sigh as if he's the puzzle piece you fit next to let's him know that despite everything, you'll always find your way back to each other, even in the most desperate of times.

Taglist: @hesperdern, @lexmoon17, @y0urm0m12, @dreamingofmarauders

[weirdwonderfulworld]

i keep saying "one last thought" BUT I KEEP HAVING MORE and i type this one out as i am in literal tears ajshshsh.

i am not going to speak for steven bc he is a grown man with his own feelings and i have no business projecting my own feelings onto him but i will say there's something i feel asian americans are really good at doing and that's holding space for others. as a fil-am i think asian americans are so very good at stamping down our own needs and desires when it boils down to surviving, to navigating tough decisions, to making sure our loved ones can weather bad storms. i feel it's something usually so ingrained in our cultures, especially with first and second gen immigrants. and i could spend time here making the obvious connection here to steven but i won't.

what i want to do is extend my heart out to the watcher fans of color, specifically the asian friends in our community, and i want to give you back some of the space you held onto this past weekend. i know there are people out there who long ago joined this fandom for fun, then last friday, saw the fan response and was hit with this large wave of burden. because people were mad. and then people were cruel, in a way they might not even have understood. and you wanted to say something but there was nothing to say that wouldn't invite the same cruelty onto you.

out of three people behind a business decision, i saw one man receive the most hate for it. and the hate was so disproportionate, so deep and personal, that you knew the hate was coming from somewhere else that's usually unspoken. not everyone felt it, and it's not something any one person can describe to make them feel it. but maybe you felt it.

if so, i am so sorry that you had to hold that space, hold your tongue, and absorb it all. of course all folks won't feel this strongly affected but to the folks who do, to the ones who feel like this community has permanently changed for them, to the ones who are still grieving something that was never supposed to hurt them in this way—i am with you, i believe your pain, and i'm sorry that people are still trying to blame you for your own pain. i don't even know what else to say other than i love and support you. you're part of what made the original community so fun, inclusive, and welcoming. i hope you know that you're still so valued as a part of this community—maybe not the same exact one as before, but the one i want to see and create for us moving forward. some people will not hold the space for us, and to that, i say good riddance. together we can hold a kinder space large enough for us all... ❣❣

[lauvra]

Lost/Found Notes Pt. 5. 7/12/20 Bold of you to assume I'm concerned whether or not you come home. 9/12/20 I can't deal with this stuff anymore. Everything I do is a problem, everything I say. When my friends offer help it's a problem. I 'dated' a dude for three months a year ago and it's still a problem. It's affecting my work, my ability to be myself and talk to friends, relax. Everything is a psychological fuck around. 11/12/20 I'm starting to spiral, nothing makes much sense. My memories are cracked, my words are cooked and my heart is choked. 13/12/20 This street feels like a game of minesweeper. 15/12/20 My knees buckled but my legs didn't fail me so I kept walking, and it's crazy to me that emotions affect our body so intensely but they do and some days they're the only sign I'm alive so that's alright. 17/12/20 [The lyrics to Omerta by Lamb of God] 22/12/20 You literally dumped me after doing lines with other girls all night, said you were clearing your head, I was off work sick and cooked dinner, she slept in your bed. Why the fuck am I concerned with you? This whole thing was bullshit to you, "not out to intentionally hurt you" Fuck off 23/12/20 Slowly you lose that charm, that childlike laughter withers away. Always on guard, you must seem so measured, controlled, controlling and prude. In wait of the next horror, and you'll be damned if you're it's cause. So you dim yourself, until it's so dark you can't see what's inside, if there's any you left to bare witness to. Send an echo down the hallway of your soul. Hello. Are you still in there? Not until it's safe. No response. Not until you're free. Then, one day the slide of a foot against the sound of nothing, the brush of a darkened soul skin against a darkened cell wall, she appears. Hesitant innocence in eyes that question, is it safe? Are we free? Curls shining in the light you deprive her no longer; you face one another. No words exchanged, an awareness settles. The mourning is over and you both hope you never abandon one another again, then take your own hand. 24/12/20 Words are magical. Fall for them over and over. Destroy. Rebuild at leisure. 27/12/20 I stayed out later than I wanted because I wanted to be anywhere with you. 29/12/20 Held me like an animal caged then told me not to bare my teeth. When I snarl, everyone will hear it. 31/12/20 No dark history, no uncertainty. Tracing every section of one another, no judgement, only love. Imagine that. Imagining a lover but not longing for one. Ten. Nine. I'm fine right now, but in two hours time... Eight Seven. Where was I this time last year? I honestly don't remember. Six Five. I don't recognise your face, nobody does. Four. I'm not sure what's real or where to go. Three. Alone. Two. Good riddance, the year of hindsight. One

[eosofspades]

FINISHED THE CAMPAIGN. THOUGHTS 2 ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

I AM HOWLINGGGGG. THAT ENDING??? THAT CUTSCENE?????? GOOD FUCKING MORNING I GUESS

THE GUARDIAN POINTED A FUCKING GUN AT GHOST

literally inconsolable rn. i have been begging for canon ghost/guardian relationship exploration in some way for YEARS. but at what cost

THE GUARDIAN CANONICALLY LOVES GHOST SO MUCH THEY COULDN'T SHOOT HIM EVEN WHEN THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE DEPENDED ON IT

i'm actually in shambles. how will this affect their relationship?? how do they move on from this?? the guardian pointed a GUN at him. ghost was USED by the witness like it was nothing. the guardian, in a way, almost let the disaster happen - they chose ghost over the entire universe. (not intentionally, but i know this is exactly how it's going to look from the outside, and maybe even from between the two of them, as well.)

(and - how does GHOST feel about this?? oh my god. how many times has he been possessed now. first the pyramid on the moon. then the beginning of lightfall (he described it as feeling sick, and wrong,) and then again, here - literally SEALING THE FATE that just befell the system. and his guardian, who in canon has never actually expressed genuine reciprocation of how much he loves them (and he DOES, he loves his guardian so much) - they wouldn't do anything to hurt him even now. how must he be feeling. oh my god)

what the FUCK did the witness do. bitch WHERE are you going. i hate hate hate the implications of "your pale heart holds the key" followed by the witness ENTERING THE TRAVELER. are you going INSIDE to get it??? WHILE THE TRAVELER IS ALIVE??? don't like that shit at ALL

in addition, what the FUCK happened to the traveler!!! wake up??! babe i am so uncomfortable with this. like viscerally. i know we're playing on the scale of gods and incomprehensibility but this feels VERY intimately terrifying

on the note of gods. good fucking RIDDANCE calus you FUCK. i have been waiting for this day since the first wack ass "calus' canon fanfic" excerpt i heard this was SUCH A FUN FIGHT. I LOVED IT. on a technical and personal scale. like. goodbye lol

sobs forever and ever over the guardian and osiris. he is so proud of them!!! they are like a student to him!!!!! he sounded SO HAPPY when they finally mastered strand!!! AAAAAAA

everything about nimbus. absolutely everything. i haven't elaborated on them in this post at all but that's honestly because not only do i want to give them their very own post but man i don't even know where to START. they made me burst out laughing SO MANY TIMES. their personality is just so fun and exciting and everything they say is so endearing and interesting!!!!!! NIMBUS MY BELOVED

apparently a lot of people,,,,, hated this dlc?? the pacing and lore?? i don't know what's wrong with you guys honestly i LOVED this. i would have liked a bit more explanation here and there but like - i thought it was INCREDIBLE! it's SO well made!!!! i'll make a post about this later, maybe an essay, but!! i really liked it and i see where the disconnect might be for some people but it does NOT deserve the hate it is getting. i actually LOVE the pacing. very good stuff scratched my brain itch just right

god. okay. i know there's more i wanna talk about but man i am gonna have to come BACK to this later. literally all i can think about is ghost and the young wolf

i'm still not ready to shut up about the ending, actually. i don't have any coherent thoughts rn but man i am just. AGH?? YOU KNOW??? does ghost know the guardian might have been about to shoot him? does the guardian wonder if ghost knows they never would have? the guardian being primarily silent for almost the entire game except a few cutscenes here and there, the guardian being a person of actions and not words, the guardian never saying that they love ghost but refusing to hurt him even knowing it meant the witness would win and humanity would be doomed. im going to be fucking sick

okay. first half of lightfall complete!! done for the day because my brain is frying and its almost midnight but MAN I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS. HELLO

spoilers below

GHOST IS BACK!!!!!! THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN THE ENTIRE GAME ALWAYS. GHOST I MISSED YOU SO MUCH

the intro cutscenes FUCK oh my god?? i was NOT expecting the traveler's attack / the slicening to be literally the FIRST CUTSCENE?? INCREDIBLE. couldnt play the first mission properly bc my hands were shaking i was so hyped up ghsjdnfv

WHY DOES THE WITNESS JUST TAKE THE BEAM FULL FORCE. WHAT THE FUCK MAN

the tormentors are FUCKING TERRIFYING. I WAS SO SCARED. LIKE THAT GROWLING NOISE RIGHT BEHIND YOU IS ACTUALLY SO FUCKING SCARY MY HEART WAS POUNDING FOR LIKE TEN MINUTES AFTER I KILLED THE THING

stay frosty

STRAND IS SO COOL. LIKE STRAND IS EXPONENTIALLY FASCINATING AND SO MUCH FUN

i will elaborate on this more in depth another time but i need to say strand feels like what they were going for with stasis except this time they did it RIGHT. in terms of consequences/risk we HEARD all about the dangers of stasis but there were literally no side effects. this on the other hand??? ITS DONE SO PERFECTLY I CANT GET OVER IT

and CONSEQUENCES!!! obviously i knew rohan was going to die like that was completely expectable but i would NOT have guessed the guardian's own shortcomings would have been the reason. god damn

everything about nimbus is so good. i love love love that they're not actually angry or blaming the guardian for rohan's death, just accepting and ready to get justice

THAT FUCKING SCENE. THE FUCKING WITNESS POSSESSING GHOST SCENE?? HELLO??? THAT WAS SO AGONIZING TO WATCH I WAS SO AFRAID

also i lost my shit ghost was literally getting possessed and in visible pain and the guardian just fucking stood there like a sim

ON THAT NOTE THOUGH. "WE'RE IN THIS TOGETHER." AND HOLDING OUT THEIR HAND FOR HIM???? THAT IS SOME GOOD GUARDIAN AND GHOST CONTENT THIS IS WHAT I HAVE BEEN BEGGING FOR FOR YEARSSS

all the witness scenes are so fucking cool btw that nightmare they sent to calus is WILD. i am OBSESSED with the witness' shattered glass thing but more importantly their ANGER. i didn't think CALUS is what they'd be angry about!! holy shit!!! emperor has the survival instincts of a fucking moth and if the winnower doesn't blow up the witness i want the witness to blow up calus

i NEED to know what the witness means by "we know pain." babe who hurt you

GHOST GOING "are you handling highly volatile materials?? AGAIN???" I LOVE GHOST SO MUCH IT'S UNREAL. I LITERALLY DIED AT THIS PART BC I WAS LAUGHING SO HARD. he sounded so exasperated and annoyed and affectionate i love ghost more than anything ever

^ PLUS. Rohan going "Again? How often does this happen?" and ghost yelling "TOO OFTEN" GHOST BABY IM SO SORRY AHAHAJSGVSV

THE STRIKE!! THE STRIIIKE. HELLO. i got my ass handed to me about sixteen times in a row and almost gave up for the night but holy shit was it worth it for the ending line. nezarec i KNEW you would come back to us!!! <333

side note im literally so pissed off about the reactor core mission bc the end when you're supposed to be using strand to swing out. i just fucking jumped i was so anxious and i couldn't find the strand thing and then everyone kept talking about how i used strand to get out and how amazing it was and ive just been sitting here like . guys please i know i missed out on all the fun you don't have to rub it in PLEASE

OSIRIS TRAINING THE GUARDIAN OSIRIS TRAINING THE GUARDIAN!!! MY OC HEADCANONS ARE BECOMING ACTUAL CANON. VINDICATION IS SO GOOD

when osiris yells "THAT WAS EXCELLENT" i got SO HAPPY. HE IS SO PROUD OF THEM!!!

now that said. i have NOT gotten past the strand training mission i'm about halfway through it. so i don't know if it comes up and it might not but i WOULD like to see osiris at least acknowledge that he was being too harsh before. like i know he's incredibly stressed and everything but my guy. the guardian was literally keeled over dying and osiris is like "we don't have time for this. why aren't you better at this by now"

on that note listen i love osiris so much he's my second favorite character but when he was scolding the guardian and ghost tries to come to your defense and says "we did our best" and osiris SHOUTS "we NEED to do BETTER" i got SO MAD. DO NOT RAISE YOUR VOICE AT MY GHOST

i cannot believe bungie canonically gave the guardian a cringefail compilation cutscene. power blowing up in their face. ghost and osiris shaking their heads at each other in disappointment and affection for the guardian. im losing my shit

THE FUCKING CUTSCENE WHERE OSIRIS HOLDS HIS HAND OUT AND TRIES TO TALK TO SAGIRA BEFORE HE REALIZES........ AGONIZED WAILING HEARD FROM MY HOME

this is... about as far as i have gotten. i know i'm forgetting some things but!! i am SO hyped up rn okay i am going to play the rest tomorrow

overall conclusion: GOOD SHIT. i love it here this game is the best thing that has ever happened to me

[russic]

Ranpo Edogawa Boyfriend Headcanons

Warning: 18+ Below Cut 

Request: 

Hey! I hope you are having a great day! 

I don't know if anyone has asked before, but I was wondering if I can ask for headcanons of Ranpo Edogawa as a boyfriend? Btw, I wanted to say that you are one of my favorite writers on Tumblr and I just love reading the things you write!  ♡ 

Whichever lovely person requested Ranpo, I wanted to thank you for your patience and kindness. Enjoy your headcanons. ♡

SFW 

You’re too lucky: You have this “little” guy man, wrapped around your finger. 

 No, seriously. Ranpo’s in LOVE with you.  

You met the sassy green-eyed detective when Kunikida encouraged you to join the Armed Detective Agency. Being assigned as Ranpo’s partner, you quickly became     mesmerized by his “ability” to solve impossible crimes. When you     expressed your admiration to Ranpo, he (cockily) replied, “I know.” 

His heartless response nearly crushed your soul; however, when you utilized your ability to save him from death’s doorstep, courteous of Chuuya Nakahara, he discovered himself stranding with a bouquet of daisies on your doorstep. 

He expressed, “No one’s ability ever impressed me; I often think my way out of things quickly, but I didn’t today. Though I have been nothing but mean and was never determined to put your safety first; you did me. Thus, it’s not your ability that impressed me, but your heart does.”   

Good compliment, but it still hurt.

After his confession, Ranpo granted you permission to enter his “secret” snack locker. 

 Overtime, you noticed that you didn’t enter Ranpo’s locker for the free sweets, you simply enjoyed seeing the wide smile sticked to his face. 

Asked you on a date via Candy Hearts on Valentine’s Day. 

 When you sat at your desk inside the ADA office after a long day, you looked down. On your desk, there was three candy hearts laid out that spelled:   

  You Me Date  

From there, the rest is history: 

Just kidding, when would I leave you hanging like that? 

R.e.f.u.s.e.s  to watch anything besides detective television series: 

 Ranpo’s favorite show is Scooby Doo. Once the guilty character appears on screen, Ranpo identifies them and begins explaining why they had the motive to commit a crime.   

 Asked you to dress up as Shaggy and Velma for Halloween.   

  Invited Atsushi to be Scooby Doo; he agreed.   

 Enjoys watching Buzzfeed Unsolved: True Crime  

is ALWAYS snacking on popcorn when he’s watching television shows or movies. 

As Ranpo is eating, he will stop chewing to comment upon what detectives are doing wrong. He will begin addressing them as “dummies,” “idiots,” and “goobers.”   

As Ranpo gets angrier, he eats faster and rolls his eyes.  

It’s kind of cute.

When Ranpo talks shit, ENCOURAGE him. 

Though his comments can be rude; you cannot help but succumb to how   A D O R A B L E   Ranpo is when he’s frustrated.   

“Can you believe that idiot? He couldn’t walk me home! Probably went to find another place to die. Well, good riddance.”   

Lightly chuckling at his anger, you’ll respond, “Tell ‘um, babe.” “Fuck him.”   

Filled with steam, Ranpo will say, “Yeah, fuck him!” 

Gets F.U.R.I.O.U.S. when you put yourself in danger. 

When you faced the Black Lizards alone, you returned beaten, bloodied, and battered. Despite refusing to leave your side or release your hand in the hospital, Ranpo REFUSED to TALK to YOU.  

Since Ranpo has grown accustomed to your love, he doesn’t know what he would do without you. He HATES imagining the thought of you leaving him, even to something as uncontrollable as death.

Spell it with me: Ranpo is a   S.P.O.I.L.E.D.   B.R.A.T.    and YOU instigate it.  

You purchase Ranpo’s favorite sweets at the grocery store.   

If Ranpo is tired, you ALWAYS allow him to lay his head on your lap as you play with his hair. Expect Ranpo to fall asleep quickly...   

If Ranpo “requires” attention, he pretends to injure himself. He knows you’ll be running to comfort him within seconds.

Do not expect any public displays of affection. Only selective members of the ADA witness you holding hands once in a blue moon, but Ranpo enjoys keeping his relationship behind closed doors. 

Doesn’t enjoy public dates - Ranpo prefers to stay bundled within the walls of your shared household. 

Expect to bake a ton of sweets together, watch movies, cuddle, and plan picnics in your backyard.   

Ranpo’s logic: Within the comfort of his own home, Ranpo doesn’t have to pretend to be someone else. He understands that you fell in love with him, not because he is the “perfect detective,” but your version of the “perfect man.”   

The one time that Ranpo attempted to partake in a public date, he scheduled a cooking class. However, he quickly grew upset when he discovered the class concentrated on making actual food, not sweets or candy. 

“This is a bunch of baloney, literally.”   

Ranpo LOVES to go on long car rides. 

Sorry, you’re driving.

You’ve developed a TERRIBLE habit of squeezing Ranpo’s cheeks in public.

Cue Ranpo glaring at you with the “are you serious” face.

P.E.T.N.A.M.E.S. G.A.L.O.R.E.

“Congratulations, cupcake! I’m so proud of you!”   

“Thanks, sweetheart. Don’t forget to grab my icing at the store!” 

Sometimes your relationship becomes strenuous because you’ll act like his mother: 

You’ll wake Ranpo up to go to work in the morning.   

He will ask you to do his laundry.   

Begs you to make his plate when you cook dinner because he doesn’t want to get up from the couch.  

Relies on you to clean the dishes.    

A bit of a GASLIGHTER (but a playful version). 

“It’s okay, baby. I’ll just walk by myself today.” Two seconds later you’ll hear him huff.

“You’re always at work. I could use some love! What does a guy have to do to get a kiss around here?” 

“You’d be the prettiest woman in the world if you would come to bed.” 

However, the benefits of being in love with Ranpo outweigh the costs: 

His small romantic gestures make your heart GROW three sizes larger: 

When Ranpo is walking to work with you, he picks random wildflowers, ties the bundle together with a string, and places them on your desk. 

Composes tiny love letters and places them around the house for you to find. 

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.” 

“I thought you were always pretty cute... Sorry, forgot the ‘and.’” 

Purchases items that remind him of you. 

Purchases you gifts that remind him of himself. 

“I got you this so you can always think of me no matter where you are!” 

L.O.V.E.S. when you’re admired by society. Every person and their mother ADMIRES and ADORES you. 

When you were being interviewed for capturing a wanted criminal, Ranpo was sitting (front-row seat) in the audience watching you with stars in his eyes. 

In his head, he was shouting, “That’s my woman!” 

Celebrates your success - When you complete a task for the ADA, you’ll arrive home to discover cupcakes waiting for you in the kitchen. When you look up from the counter, you’ll see Ranpo grinning with a handful of roses. 

“I’M SO PROUD OF YOU, CUPCAKE!” 

When you and Ranpo are not assigned to work together, Ranpo will arrive home, change into his fluffy pajamas, and gossip about his entire mission.

Usually, Ranpo will rant about the police. His stories always end in the sentence, “so I came in to save the day. Now everyone is fine, thanks to me.”

Yes, Ranpo; everyone is good, besides the man who was brutally murdered.  

DEFENDS YOU AT ALL COST - If someone is talking about you, Ranpo never fails to stick up for you. 

When Ranpo overheard Kunikida ranting about the way you chose to confront the Black Lizards, Ranpo’s sassy defensive attitude jumped into action:

“I’m starting to think you’re just jealous that she can beat all three of them, but you can’t even handle one person with a few bombs.”   

Kunikida didn’t respond; he rolled his eyes and continued reading his emails.

Ranpo chuckled and muttered, “Thats what I thought. Keep their name out of your mouth.”   

ALWAYS reminds you that you’re loved beyond words. 

Ranpo knows you are living a difficult life. He acknowledges that you (like him) need to be reminded that you’re irreplaceable. Thus, he never fails to take your hand in his own, stare into your eyes, smile at you, and gently assure you, 

“I hope you know you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I love you beyond words. Thank you for accepting me and loving me.” 

NSFW

Let’s talk about this S.U.B.M.I.S.S.I.V.E. man: 

I’m choosing to address this first - You took Ranpo’s virginity on the night he admitted he was madly in love with you. 

 After Ranpo’s first sexual experience, he became a fucking      fiend... literally

Ranpo is a grower, not a shower. He’s not extremely large, but he is 6.5 inches. Though Ranpo doesn’t have the largest cock you’ve ever seen, he knows how to work it (that’s all that matters). 

Have you ever heard of a pillow prince? Well, that’s Ranpo.

His favorite sex position is Cowgirl.

He despises doesn’t enjoy being on top. 

Ranpo cannot determine which one he enjoys more; being praised or degraded. If I’m being honest; Ranpo is in the mood for any foul words that escape your lips when he’s horny. 

“You’ve been such a good boy solving all of those cases today. Do you think I should give you a little reward for being so helpful?” You’ll whisper in Ranpo’s ear as you’re stroking a hand over his prominent erection.  

“Do you enjoy fucking my pussy? You’re so fucking desperate for me, aren’t you?” 

Enjoys the image of your beautiful body clad in skimpy lingerie; especially two-piece sets that are burgundy red, forest green, brown, or dark yellow. 

Ranpo is a little perverted; especially when it comes to sniffing your panties.

You still fail to recognize how five or six pairs of your panties have gone missing.    

L.O.V.E.S. when you tease him: Ranpo will whine like a little baby, but he enjoys being toyed with. 

As Ranpo is sitting in front of your fully dressed figure clad in nothing but his underwear and wrinkled white button down, you’ll roughly grab his face and force him to look into your eyes. You will whisper, “Too bad you were a bad boy today. I was going to let you fuck me, but maybe I’ll suck your cock until you’re on the edge of cumming; then I’ll leave you to please yourself.”  

ADORES being strapped to the bed as you order him around. 

Ranpo’s BIGGEST weakness is having his arms and legs strapped to the headboard as you hover your pussy above his face.

“Oh baby, you’re so desperate for a taste; aren’t you?” 

He’ll beg, “Please, sit on my face.”       

Bonus points will be awarded if you don’t give the brat what he wants.

Let’s address the obvious:   FOOD PLAY 

If you strive to be in a relationship with Ranpo, you’ll need to incorporate candy in the bedroom. He enjoys using whipped cream, strawberries, cherries, caramel, and chocolate syrup. 

As Ranpo decorates your prominent nipples with whipped cream, he stares at your body wondering, “I wonder if the whipped cream is sweeter here, or her pussy?” He’ll have to taste both to decide. 

Ranpo LOVES replaying the time you dripped caramel syrup on your clit. He watches closely as he licks his lips ready to bury his tongue in you.   

“I know you love dessert.” Ranpo immediately nodded and jumped between your legs. Before he could eat the sweet liquid off of your pussy, you grab onto his hair holding him back. As Ranpo whines, you chuckle at his eagerness

“Open wide,” you order. Ranpo smiled and showed you his tongue. Slowly, you guide him to your clit.

Order Ranpo to mark you: Ranpo willingly acknowledges that he’s not a dominant individual within the bedroom, but he LOVES when your body physically shows that you’re his.  

Don’t get too lost: Ranpo a.d.o.r.e.s. when hickies decorate his neck, stomach, and hips as well.

Willingly buries his face in your pussy: 

Lean against the wall and drape your leg over his shoulder as Ranpo is tongue-length deep in your pussy. Watching your juices drip down his face is a sight you’ll never forget.

Thoroughly enjoys when you run your hands through his hair to pull him further into your cunt. 

“Oh God, you’re doing so good, baby.” You’ll moan as Ranpo drags in tongue over your clit. You tug his head closer indirectly ordering him to suck your pussy harder.

Suck Ranpo’s balls while you’re giving him a hand job. 

Caught up in the fast motions of your hand and the vibration your chuckling on his balls, Ranpo cannot help but moan, “Thank you, y/n.”  

BLINDFOLD HIM: Ranpo will let you do ANYTHING to him.   

Don’t be afraid to have a powerful presence - Say: “If you lay a hand on your cock before I get home, you won’t touch me for a week.” - a.k.a MASTERBATION BAN

O.r.g.a.s.m.         D.e.n.i.a.l. 

I dare you to Tease Ranpo until he’s about to cum. Before he explodes, leave him.   

  Poor Baby...

Try tying Ranpo’s limbs together before denying his release.

R.I.M.J.O.B.S: Ranpo’s Weakness

Please Degrade him while you’re eating his ass. Don’t worry, your hurtful words only add to Ranpo’s pleasure.   

Get’s D.R.U.N.K. on the feeling of your pussy pulsing on his cock. 

As you’re riding him, lean down into his ear, halt your movements, and whisper, “beg me to continue.” 

 “Please, please, please. I’m in love with your pussy and the way you squeeze me. Please don’t stop.”

Cums in your mouth or on your breasts. 

Ranpo also   L.O.V.E.S  being ordered to cum inside of your pussy with your consent. 

Hardly ANY aftercare. I’m sorry, Ranpo will fall asleep immediately. He’s a tired little baby and he isn’t afraid to admit it. 

Yes, he snores.

However, it is a requirement to cuddle after sex because Ranpo loves it. He enjoys being close to you and he needs reassurance that you’re not leaving after sharing such an intimate moment together. 

“I can’t keep my eyes open,” Ranpo will whisper throwing his head back on the pillow.   

“I know, baby. Go to sleep,” You’ll whisper as he begins snoring when his head falls on your shoulder.     

Before Ranpo drifts off to sleep, he will look over into your eyes, smile, and whisper, “Sleep well, I love you.” 

[travellingarmy]

║Scaramouche║Jealousy

Requested from Wattpad.

Gender-neutral.

Fluff.

Word count: 1.5k

---

He doesn't know when so don't ask him. But he does know that you had somehow bewitched him into liking you because he couldn't explain what it is about you that had made him fall for you. Was it your hair? Eyes? Smile? Again, he doesn't know and all he could do is blame you for it.

His eyes stare lazily at the crowd, thoughts completely all about you and only you. He wishes he could see you-- oh, would you look at that? Not too far away, he spots a familiar stature, eyes looking at a list. You.

He pondered at today's date, crossing his arms. Based on his notes from observing you, you were out shopping for groceries. Oh, how could he forget that? That was the reason why he was out and about with no particular purpose tied to the Tsaritsa at all. He was grateful at how you always had a routine. That way, he could have these.. Encounters. He doesn't do much other than stare. Creepy, but he does not dare walk up to you to strike a conversation. He only does it when there is a really good excuse for them.

"I thought I'd find you here," a smooth voice spoke from behind the short male, a chuckle following after. Scaramouche had the look of annoyance at the sound that he loathed oh so much. "What do you want, pest?"

He does not need to look behind him to know that it was the young Harbinger, Tartaglia. The ginger chuckles, resting a hand on his hip. "Ouch, no need to be so venomous, old man." He does not even bother to feign hurt.

Scaramouche clicks his tongue, not once turning to see the ginger. "If you have nothing to say, leave. Can't you see I'm busy?" he spat. The taller male grins. "Oh? With what? Surely, stalking an innocent civilian isn't what you are busy about, is it?" Tartaglia has been watching for a while as well, but not at you-- Scaramouche, seeing as the sixth Harbinger started to act strange-- mainly towards you. He thought it was hilarious that a man such as the cruel sixth could easily coil under your words.

Scaramouche mentally curses at the male. "Piss off." He grits his teeth. This just made Tartaglia want to continue. However, a brilliant plan- much better than teasing Scaramouche- had crept its way in his head. Smirking evident in his tone, he bids goodbye to the short Harbinger.

"Good riddance," he mumbled to himself. His eyes had never once left your person as you move onto different stalls that had the needed items on your list.

Maybe he should go up and say a quick 'hello'? You two are friends after all. It wouldn't be awkward, right?

He bit the inside of his cheek, deciding against it. As much as he tops everybody, he cowers to interact with you and only pray that the Tsaritsa had something- anything- to give him a reason to interact with you. He thought it would seem awkward otherwise.

Sighing, he turns on his heels, planning on going to the training ground for new recruits and do something productive like watching new Fatui members bleed their guts out-- anything that would take his mind off of you.

-

He doesn't know when, but the next time he saw you made his blood boil. Actually, it wasn't you that made him that way-- it was at the sight of you talking to the eleventh Harbinger with all smiles and laughter.

Were you two always that close for you to allow Tartaglia to put a hand on your shoulders? It was evident that the Harbinger was up to something when he put it there. Scaramouche doesn't know what type of game Tartaglia was playing at, but he didn't like it in the slightest.

He wanted to walk up and wrap his arms around you protectively while he hiss and glare at the eleventh. But he had to hold back. After all, it would seem weird since you two weren't lovers. Oh how he wished that you would leave the ginger already.

-

If he was itching for a fight, Scaramouche would happily give it to him. It has been 2 weeks since and each day, Tartaglia always seemed free enough to hang around you. And you seemed undisturbed by it? How absurd! Had you not notice where that man puts his hands on you? That hand that the ginger holds is supposed to be his!

He scowls. He can't take this anymore. Scaramouche has finally figured out the game that the ginger started and tried not to fall for his petty trap to make him finally admit to you about his feelings. However, that didn't last long and he started to think that he should take this as a chance before that opportunity is no longer there; when Tartaglia has really fallen for you.

Taking a deep breath, he strides to you two with menacing glares thrown at the tall male. Tartaglia felt those eyes that he knew had been watching him since two weeks ago draw near, getting his attention, which soon caught yours.

"Oh? Why if it isn't gramps," Tartaglia greets, showing his signature smile that was usually a sign of trouble to come. Scaramouche stares long and hard at him before he turns to look at you.

"Scara, hello!" You smiled that smile he loves oh so much. His heart fluttered, almost forgetting the presence of a particular someone.

"Uh, so, gramps," Tartaglia starts, "(Y/N) and I are actually going out for lunch, so if you could speed it up.." Scaramouche shots another deadly glare at the male. It would have been scary to a normal person but since this is what Tartaglia wanted, he wasn't affected by it.

"You're not having lunch with them." With that, he grabs you by the wrist and drags you along with him. "H, huh? Wait, Scara, where are we going?" You look at the back of the short Harbinger before you turn to look over your shoulders at Tartaglia.

You thought he would stand there dumbfoundedly but instead, he waves at you with one hand as the other rested on his hips and balancing his weight on one leg. He gave a close-eyed smile, feeling proud that it had turned out the way he wanted. The eleventh wanted to follow to hear what cheesy thing Scaramouche would say, but he stops himself and decided to tease him later.

Now gone from sight after turning a block, Scaramouche pins you against a wall, both hands slammed beside your head. You yelped and hissed at the impact, closing your eyes instinctively.

"Hey, Scara, couldn't you just--" "I like you," he confesses, getting all words dying on your tongue. "Eh?" Silence followed after, and it seemed to you that there was a bird cawing not too far in the distance.

Did you hear that right? You look up and was met a flushed Harbinger who awaited for your response. "C, could you repeat that? I think water got into my ears when I took a bath this morning."

Scaramouche takes a deep breath and this time, said it loud and clear-- enough for you to comprehend. "I like you, (Y/N)," he said, the heat tingling his cheeks. Gosh, Tartaglia's spot would have definitely been given away by his laughter, if he was there.

"I like you too, Scara," you confess, a confused look on your face at the sudden confrontation. On Scaramouche's part, the light in his eyes twinkled like little stars dancing in the night sky. You liked him as well? A smile was threatening to break but before that could happen, he moves away and coughed onto his fist, clearing his throat soon after.

"W, well, I'm glad we have mutual feelings towards one another.." he said, face still slightly turned from you.

"But, Scara, can I ask what brought this up so suddenly?" you had finally ask. The Harbinger stare at you longingly and removes his fist from his mouth, scratching the back of his neck. "I was, uh, a bit jealous of.." He looks down, feeling embarrassed to say it. But you wanted an answer so he had no choice but to give it. "I was jealous of Tartaglia hanging around you."

Your heart fluttered. He looks adorable if you had to be honest. Who knew that he could be jealous by someone who was much younger than both you and him? You had long knew that the young Harbinger was up to something the moment he came up to you with the smile used when he was plotting something. You weren't that dense.

A laugh escaped your lips, getting the attention of the male. "H, hey, what's so funny?" His brows scrunched together in confusion.

You shake your head to dismiss the question and soon cup his face, bringing him close so that your foreheads were touching. Staring longingly into his indigo eyes, you spoke. "There is no need to be jealous because my heart belonged to you long ago."

---

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding Part Three: SW Time Travel AU #27

Part One

Part Two

Obi Wan woke with a dry mouth and a moderate headache. A fairly typical morning these days. 

He peered around his bedroom in the temple confused. Wasn’t he just with Cody? Shouldn’t he be on the Negotiator? No wait, the war was over, Cody tried to kill him, and the Negotiator was a part of the Imperial Armada, of course he wouldn’t be there. He closed his eyes, snuggling back under the covers. Before he could drift back to sleep, his sluggish mind processed that last thought. 

He BOLTED upright in bed. The temple had been razed, his personal chambers scorched with particular thoroughness. Just being on Coruscant was an automatic death sentence. Faint tendrils of panic began to curl around his throat before he remembered his decision to give Spice a try. He had reasoned that he should probably find at least one pleasure in his new life, instead of focusing incessantly on what was lost. 

So what if he lost a few brain cells? Good riddance. 

Obi-Wan had been a bit nervous, but this had ended up being his best decision in years. His goodbye to Cody had been painful, but deeply cathartic. Spice Hallucination Anakin didn’t scream like Nightmare Anakin, and the color of his eyes was perfect. Far better final memories to cling to than reality- a reminder of the good times. Comforted, he relaxed backwards in bed, pulling his blankets back around him.

He LURCHED out of bed, covers tossed aside, movement a blur.

He was still hallucinating?!? Spice shouldn’t last in the system this long! He might’ve been uncertain about whether he was supposed to smoke or snort the substance but it was a well known fact that its exhaustive but rapid passage through the body was half what made it so addictive. If nothing else, his well-restedness and thirst indicated it had been at least six hours. He looked frantically around the room, searching for some thread of unreality to pull at.

This...was not good. Hadn’t the subconscious manifestations of his friends mentioned drugs that interacted poorly with force users last night? He had dismissed it at the time but...

He clearly was stuck in some sort of drugged fantasy combined with force-enhanced memory recall. Kriff, he had to wake up in the real world before he died of an aneurysm. Or just dehydration.

He sat on the ‘temple floor’ to meditate. This could be tricky as he couldn’t risk lowering his outer shields to reach out to reality. It would be deeply embarrassing as well as horrifying if the Emperor managed to find him and, by extension, Luke because he got stuck in a bad spice trip.

The door to his room clicked open quietly. 

“Oh! You’re awake. Sorry to come in without knocking, Master. I wanted to let you sleep, but I’ve been checking on you every two hours to make sure you were still, you know, breathing. You were...pretty out of it last night and I would be a pretty bad ‘best friend in the whole galaxy’ if I let you choke on your own vomit, right?” His blue-eyed Padawan explained with a grin.

Obi-Wan just stared. Oh this- this hurt. It was easier last night, when the whole fantasy had a kind of drunken blurriness. Sleeping and waking had brought sober clarity to the dream world. He could see the bags under Anakin’s eyes as well as the sheepish slouch of his shoulders as he instinctively ducked at the door frame. It was just so real.

“Obi-Wan? Are you feeling ok? Do you still feel drunk?” Anakin asked concerned.

Obi-Wan shook his head. He hesitated, before deciding to just go along with the interaction. He didn’t want to risk his subconscious throwing a less idylic scene at him by pretending to ignore this one. And besides, last night had been, all totaled, a huge relief- an unburdening of things left unsaid. This was probably the closest thing to therapy available to him these days, he might as well take advantage.

“I’m just...processing. Not to mention dealing with some mild dehydration.” He finally answered.

“Processing, huh? So does that mean you, uh, remember last night?” Anakin asked nervously.

“I do.” Obi-Wan smiled gently. As heart-wrenching as this was, it was also adorably sweet. Maybe it was worth it to push off waking for a little while. He could get some closure, maybe even work through some of the past to see where the two of them had gone wrong. It might even be helpful for Luke! Force willing, he would probably end up training Anakin’s son someday.

(the boy wouldn’t have many masters to choose from)

If this dream world could help him figure out specifically how he had failed as a Master, then he owed it to the galaxy to see it through. Satisfied, he resolved to let the fantasy play out. At least for a few more more hours. And...he had missed what Anakin had said. Wonderful start.

“I’m very sorry, Anakin would you mind repeating that? I was still a little distracted, but I promise, I’m focused on you now.”

Anakin shuffled nervously. “It’s nothing.”

Obi-Wan tried to project reassurance without actually projecting. “Please Anakin, I’d like to hear what you have to say. I know I wasn’t the most observant or approachable Master, and I’m sorry for that. But I have always cared about your thoughts and feelings.” It was a struggle and the words caught in his throat, but the raw burn of the apology was cleansing in an almost addictive way.

Anakin flushed. “Did you mean everything you said?” he asked nervously.

“I’d...rather not talk about seeing the destruction of the temple, seeing you... Maybe later...but please, I just don’t want to focus on it while I’m sitting here, looking at you,” Obi-Wan said quietly.

“That actually wasn’t what I was talking about,” Anakin responded quickly. “I mean, I do want to help you with that at some point, but I get not wanting to talk about visions, even if you should probably should. Of course if you do want to talk about that stuff, that’s more important, but since you don’t we can talk about the other stuff you mentioned. I was more referring to, you know, us, and what you said about our friendship?” his voice got progressively higher the longer he rambled. 

Obi-Wan thought back. “Well some of it is a little hazy, but overall yes. I...for a very long time I’ve considered you my best friend, and its not so easy for me to let go of my affections. I miss spending time with you; there are times I turn to say something and am still shocked you’re not there. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, with real words, how much I cared. I’m sorry I didn’t hug you as much as I wanted, looking back that was a nonsensical Jedi custom. It’s not in the code; it’s just an affectation of dignity. All things considered, the fact that you often snuck out to see Padme doesn’t really bother me.” He paused. “Was that everything?”

“Oh. Yeah, that pretty much covered everything.” Anakin looked embarrassed, but happy. “I wasn’t sure if you were just saying that stuff because you were drugged, or really drunk or something.”

“No, I meant what I said. I suppose it just took an altered state for me to relax enough to actually say it instead of just thinking at you and assuming you would know. I must admit, its difficult for me to maintain this emotional honesty without feeling drunk, but it’s good. This is good.”

“Ah, that’s... wow. So you weren’t drugged? Cody was concerned you seemed to off for much you actually drank.”

Obi-Wan frowned. Hadn’t that been a trip? Vision blurring from desert hovel to some nameless Catina he once visited with Cody. The continuity since then was almost unsettling. But, then again, Obi-Wan always did have a remarkable talent for self-delusion, didn’t he. He waved away the concerns.

“My substance consumption was entirely deliberate and exactly what I needed. There might have been some unknown additions with some unforeseen after-affects, but like I said- I’m not drunk. I’m clear minded and in full control right now and I knowingly accept the current fallout from whatever I took. I could meditate and force purge to completely recenter, but I think it would be far wiser to just see where this goes. Do you disagree, Anakin?”

Anakin grinned widely. “Whatever you say, Obi-Wan. Just remember this is your idea. Also, I’m taking you to the healers tonight if you’re not completely back to yourself.”

Obi-Wan signed, “If I’m not back to myself in 12 hours, than I fully agree that’s a problem worthy of the halls of healing.”

“Right,” Anakin nodded decisively, “I’ll go get you some water then comm Cody to tell him you’re still alive.

Obi-Wan smiled weakly in response. This wasn’t just a hashed up memory; the responsiveness was more that. He quickly got dressed, hands lingering over soft fabrics and sand-free linens.

Anakin dropped off a cup of water; Obi-Wan sipped at it hesitantly. Dear force, this was dangerously vivid. It actually felt like a relief in his parched mouth. Clearly his subconscious was pulling out all the stops to trap him in this soft delusion. He would have to deal with the thirst and hunger until he woke up- it was probably the firmest link he had to his real body.

He took one last look around before rushing out of his room, eager to take advantage of the time.

Anakin looked nervously up from the comm when Obi-Wan started pulling his boots on. “You’re not going out in the temple like this, are you?”

“Of course! I want to visit the gardens and the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Not to mention spend some time with a few of the other Jedi. You might still be the dearest being in my heart, but there were other Jedi that I care for, and dammit I’m going to tell them that.” He finally finished lacing up his left leg and moved to the right.

Anakin was dumbstruck, presumably as burnt by the ‘dearest being’ comment as Obi-Wan was. Then he rallied, “Wow, wow, No. You are not running around the temple drugged so you can, I don’t know, give Mace Windu a hug. I thought when you said you were going to ‘deal with the fallout' from whatever the kriff you’re still on, you meant you were going to lounge around the quarters all day!”

His former padawan physically blocked the door when Obi-Wan started to leave, sounding vaguely hysterical, “You can’t run around loopy! You’re a High Council Member!”

“Not anymore,” Obi-Wan replied bitterly. 

“What do you mean not anymore,” Anakin said fiercely, grabbing on to his shoulders . “Did they kick you out? Is that why you’re acting crazy? Did you resign?”

Obi-Wan responded by pulling Anakin into a hug, which was immediately returned, “Of course not, don’t be absurd. Fine, I suppose I’m technically still a high council member, it just seems like a bit of a moot point.”

“What the kark does that mean? You used to dream about being on the council! You’re the wisest Master in any of those stupid chairs!”

‘Master of the High Council’ Kenobi just sighed heavily in response. He maneuvered around the confused errant Knight and into the hall. 

"Obi-Wan wait! At least eat something first! Or let me put my shoes on!”

“Very well, you have one minute to make yourself presentable. I only have a few hours before I’m going to need to get back to reality, and the longer I linger the more I fear extreme measures may be necessary.”

“What does that mean?” Anakin shouted from inside. “Extreme measures sounds really ominous, you know.”

“I’d rather not get into it, alright? Let’s just enjoy the here-and-now, eh, ad’ika?

Anakin crashed out the door with less than a second to spare. “What did you just call me?"

“Ad’ika,” Obi-Wan answered, striding down the hallway in the direction of the hanging gardens. “Surely you must have picked up some Mando’a from the troopers?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t sure if I heard you right, bu- um- ori'vod,” Anakin fumbled out. “Uh, you’re not going to call me that in front of anyone else, right? You do remember that the council already gives us the side eye for over-attachment right?”

Obi-Wan hummed thought fully in responded. “There are far worse things a Jedi could do than admit to affection they already feel. Maybe if I had been honest about my attachments, they wouldn’t have ended the way that...” he trailed off quietly.

“The way that what,” Anakin asked frustrated. “You’re really giving me some emotional whiplash over here, and I’m starting to think that putting off dragging you to the healers is a stupid idea.

“There are far stupider things a Jedi could do,” he responded cheerily. “Oh look, there’s Plo Koon. MASTER KOON!” He shouted, startling the Kel Doran Jedi.

“Yes, Master Kenobi?” He replied slightly concerned as the two human Jedi came jogging over.

“I just wanted to say that I consider my former padawan my family. I raised him, I care for him deeply, and I don’t want to let go of those feelings.”

Plo Koon nodded seriously in response. “I feel just the same about my former padawans, and the Wolffe pack, of course. Denying my attachments isn’t, personally, a practical way to handle them. I’d rather honestly live as an imperfect Jedi than pretend to be a perfect example of the code. If I must have some imbalance, I’d rather it be an excess of compassion than a dearth,” he replied earnestly.

“I always admired that about you,” Obi-Wan replied ruefully. “This might be a little odd, but could I have a hug? I hold you in the highest regard and I’ve realized that there are so many Jedi that I never directly expressed my affection for and...”

Plo Koon didn’t wait for Obi-Wan to finish before wrapping his arms around him. “Of course, dear boy. You’ve had such heavy burdens placed on your shoulders during your life, especially in the last few years; it saddens me to see how deeply they’ve weighed you down. If there’s anything I can do to help, in any way, you simply have to ask.”

Obi-Wan sniffled slightly into Plo’s Shoulder while Plo rubbed soothing circles over his back.

A few passing Jedi gave the embracing Masters uncomfortable looks before hurrying on their way. Anakin stood slack-jawed.

When they finally pulled back, Plo Koon hesitated before finally asking, “I don’t mean to pry, but what brought all this on? I can sense much grief from you, even through your impressive shields.”

“It’s a long story,” Obi-Wan replied, wiping at the corner of his eyes. “I’d rather not get into it.”

“He’s high,” Anakin offered bluntly. “He took something last night and won’t go to medical wing.”

“Ah,” Plo said. “Is that true?”

Obi-Wan looked a little embarrassed. “I have the situation under control. My connection with reality might be...slightly altered right now, but my emotions, and what I chose to do with them are my own. I’m just, taking advantage of a unique opportunity to express myself.”

Plo Koon seemed to scrutinize him intensely, “If you’re sure this is what you need, than I support you. Just don’t do anything too foolish.” he finally offered.

Obi-Wan beamed. “I appreciate you saying so, I thought you would be supportive. Farewell, Master Koon”

Obi-Wan offered a respectful bow and then turned to walk away briskly. Before Anakin could follow, Plo rested a claw on his arm. 

“Feel free to comm me if his behavior reaches a point where you think he truly needs a healer. I’m happy to help you drag him there if need be. A little cathartic release isn’t in of itself such a bad thing, but if he starts acting too out of control...”

Anakin nodded in acknowledgment, then ran off to see who else Obi-Wan had chosen to throw himself at.

Part Four

[kadeu]

THE DECK; OCTOBER 2024

Sweet breeze! Good riddance summer. Now, usually we adore the summer season, the fashion, the events, the lively shows and all the trouble the socialites get up to. And yes, the fashion was there but eyepatches in the heat are not ideal. Our beloved socialites flocked to the beach and we have enough tales of drunken debauchery yes, and even those who remained in the city with their enchanted blocks of ice and selective guest lists, we still have heard the deeds. But the heat, something about this summer’s heat, made it not as enjoyable.

Speaking of the beach, there is mourning up in the highranked hills of Diamonds. Once Kings, demoted in scandal to Jacks, the Sobongs have met rough waters while enjoying what was supposed to be a calming row out to sea in Umibe. Their staff reported that, “the once peaceful seas suddenly became enraged as if a Tempest beset it and pulled them under.” The Sobong fortune is now up in the air as the only true heir, their son Korain, has long been presumed dead. Korain's only heir is none other than Ace of Diamonds Moon Ara, but sources say the Sobong's will doesn't name their estranged granddaughter at all. 

It is rather fortunate though, inheriting a vast sum, especially when one half of the marital income pool couldn’t even afford box seats at the other’s place of employment. We wonder just how much money is in that estate. Enough to kill for? Only time will tell.

In Hearts, once jeweler to the elite facecards yet now blacklisted from those circles, Lee Hyeonju seems to be looking from Hearts for a way into Diamonds. Formerly disgraced now reinstated Academy Professor Parker Luke, seems to have accepted the advances of Hyeonju and has been spotted every night for two whole weeks within his apartment. Sources close to both men say that Hyeonju has been giving the professor the royal treatment in hopes he sponsors his defection!

Whispers throughout Heart society say that the Ace of Hearts, once an avid patron of Hyeonju’s has refused his service in lieu of newly popular Fae artisans. The Ace’s mood as of late is unreadable on that topic, but sources say Hyeonju has been barred from his presence and that has other highrankers and artisans have been following suit, preferring to not gain the Ace’s disfavor. This has lead to instability in Hyeonju’s prospects in Hearts. No wonder he is looking to flee to Diamonds. 

But he’s not the only one out of favor in Hearts. Ex-courtesan turned restaurant owner, Meesong Nari has been seen without her usual entourage of Zuihuo guards and attendants. Rumor has it she has been kicked from that mansion she was gifted and the Clan favor mark is gone from her arm. Not sure what she did to separate herself from that protection and comfort but we are sure all those bridges she burned ascending in the ranks will happily revisit her. They tell us as kids right? What goes up must come down. Watch your back Nari.

THE TENSION BETWEEN CLUBS AND SPADES;

Amidst the growing tensions between Clubs and Spades, Ace of Clubs Mallick Sai Shah,  held the opening for his Hunter’s Lair. It seems it was mostly a hit, with fights breaking out away from the venue, not in it! One club said, “it’s better to just enjoy things now than wait for whatever comes next,” and we’re considering stitching it on tunics and selling them as aid relief! Business owners suffering from Spade mandated ban through the Joker found it hard to mingle and feast while their own stores suffered. Worse, a gag order was in place against all negative comments on Spades. We sense a lot of fake smiles and grumblings over bread but can’t confirm as we were refused an exclusive invite to report the event!

Still, as an unbiased news source, we gladly accepted the request for a sit down with Ace Shah to address the actions taken in his faction. Our reporter braved the streets of Clubs to give a completely impartial interview. 

How has it been as an Ace? The jump from low ranker to sitting atop the faction must be hard.

Hard? Surprising and unexpected would be the words I would use to describe how this whole situation feels. I used to be a highranker after all and making my way up to even higher ranks before a tragedy struck me, was that an unknown fact?

But you’ve never been Ace? How is that jump?

No, never been. The title itself is not omnipotent, it has its limitations and brings forth unwanted attention that stands in the way of the current progress we wish to bring to the faction. But it's an important role even if only in word, one has to still use it respectably. But the short answer is the jump is still happening. Ask again in a few years when I've landed where it takes me.

How did you think of the Club council? Is it true you were inspired by the Diamond council?

I didn’t think of the Club council, it was a meeting of minds, I wouldn’t have been able to have any council at all if it was only my contribution going into the making of said council. While I have a deep respect for Diamonds and how they tend to go about their politics, I can’t say I was thinking about them when the idea came to be, I was more concerned on how it would affect Clubs in general and how it would be accepted within the faction. But I can now see why they have one, it has its benefits and I applaud them for having the idea to immediately instill it in their system.

How many people really support you as ex-resistance? Can we even believe you’ve left the criminal enterprise?

I can’t possibly begin to tell who truly supports me as ex-resistance or not, but so far I haven’t had anyone personally challenge me in the faction so in this case I think that means even through reticence people might just believe in the good I want for this faction. 

That’s definitely a tough one, all I can say is I was young, hurt and I made mistakes. If I can be forgiven for them then I will be happy, if not I will understand. However, to be judged for the mistakes of your pasts when you’ve recognized them and clearly show that you’ve completely turned away from them, that’s an unfortunate way to see the world or the people around us if you ask me. But yes, to your question, you can believe that I’ve left the criminal enterprise.

I suppose you maintain your innocence in the killing and raid on spade? If you didn’t do it then who is behind such a foul act?

I absolutely do, I had nothing to do with the unfortunate incident even if allegations brought forth the information that some key evidence might link me to it. My hands are clean and I can’t even begin to think of who would be behind this. But whoever it is, the council has decided to lead an investigation into the matter because it’s not just my name and reputation that is on the line, it is also the honor of this faction that will be yet again tarnished. If you find any more clues before we do, I’m certain you’ll pass the message to the rest of the city, won’t you?

Of course! So you suppose you are being framed? Why would anyone frame an already known murderer?

I don’t take lightly to being called a murderer, but if that’s a title I have to wear for ridding the faction of an Ace who cared none for the lives of the people he wanted to lead to an unending civil war and unrest, then there’s not much I can do about it. But yes, I’m being framed, because of the criminal enterprise’s affiliation I had in the past and the label of murderer I have on my back. I mean, wouldn’t you say it’s easier to believe that I would be the one behind someone’s death and demise considering those two demeaning factors? It’s even a little unfair to not see how blatantly obvious they went about it.

You must know, the Academy was attacked a few years ago with your resistance taking ownership. Were you not involved?

The resistance I was part of and that I do not own, you mean? I did hear of it when the incident occurred. I was not involved and I found it disheartening. I'm against attacking innocents and causing the loss of innocent lives.

We’ve heard that your people were harassing Spades in your faction? Our sources say, ‘Urine and feces were tossed on a patron in a popular tavern for saying ‘Spades should be respected.’ Should Spades not be respected?

I’ve had no time to hear these rumors but of course Spades should be respected. Everyone deserves respect for that matter, tossing urine and feces doesn’t seem like a respectful action taken either. But if this rumor is true I can simply apologize for the mistreatment and ask that less impulsive measures are taken in the future because, as you can see, I don’t have any means to control anyone to stop tragedies from occurring. If I did you wouldn’t be here as no shipment would have been ambushed and no lives would have been lost. Unfortunate, isn’t it?

This Ace of Clubs only brings more questions when questions are asked.  He made it clear to our interviewer that the resistance was a mistake he made in youth and he acknowledges them as all as criminals. He even seemed scared to admit the inspiration for the council he created in Clubs. Maybe those on his council are the real danger here. ‘A meeting of minds’ he claims, but it sounds more like he was coerced by darker agents. We’re certain this council is filled with the same resistance criminals he is trying so hard to claim he has separated himself from.

And yet he proclaims his innocence, insists he is being framed. In round about words he points to some conspiracy with no proof of innocence offered. And where is this council if they are unified in their ruling? Should they not have joined this interview to show their unified cause? The future of Clubs is bound to be as blood soaked under this Ace as the last. At least that Ace stood solidly on one point without a questionable background and motive. 

His unwillingness to out other vagrants that would no doubt bring that peace to the faction like he claims to want, make his alleged innocence and investigation a joke. Our own investigation finds King of Clubs, Wainwright Rook, with high suspicion for the fight that broke out in his tavern. There a Spade had feces and urine thrown on them which led to a brawl that left the very foundation of the tavern with a cracked that travelled up the building.  Yet Ace Shah acts ignorant of it. No wonder Spades must do their own investigation.

In Spades, they are increasing drills and the policing of their border. We wonder if an invasion will come soon. Whispers amongst their ranks lean to disdain for the Club Council. Refugees who chose to leave the safety of Spades were met at the border with medical personnel and fighters as if the Club Council thought that Spades were abusing those they rescued during the terror of the war between their last Ace and the new one and his resistance criminals. The council passing suspicion to Spades who have done more for their corner of the city is laughable.

Well, at least the weather is cooling down. Hopefully that eases some of the tensions. The weather is predicted to be far more comfortable though still a bit warmer for the season. We’re calling it a second attempt at summer.  

NOW PLAYING AT THE PALACE;

Fresh from the mind of director Ace Moon Ara, comes a gruesome tale of lost love and revenge. With intense, dark themes, The Palace recommends not bringing children to this production and reminds all of it’s patrons that the theater is NOT responsible for the adverse affects the production may have on younger minds or weak stomachs.

The Fiendish Barber of Kadeu

Evil Judge Turpin (Budrelda Beryl) lusts for the beautiful wife of a simple barber, Benjamin Barker (Adrian!). In order to claim the beautiful woman for herself, Turpin frames the barber, and has him transported to a far away prison for a crime he did not commit. Returning after 15 years and calling himself Sweeney Todd - the new name given to him by the fiend he managed to conscript, the now-mad man vows revenge, applying his razor to unlucky customers and shuttling the bodies down to Mrs. Lovett (played by Ara’s protégé from Wing Theatrics), who uses them in her meat-pie shop. Though many fall to his blade, he will not be satisfied until he slits Turpin's throat.

Its a wonderful start to the fall season, our reporters loved their screening but warn of its hauntingly good effects.

[gunpowdville]

The Great Flesh-Eating Cake Incident of Year [REDACTED] (Not to be Confused With the Bifrost Incident)

Chapters: 1/2

Words: 3502

Relationships: Drumbot Brian - Raphaella la Cognizi (queerplatonic), Gunpowder Tim/Lyfrassir Edda/Marius von Raum, The Aurora/Nastya Rasputina (although most don’t show up until the second chapter)

Other Things: genderfluid tim, she/her tim, he/fae marius :)

Summary: Brian and Raph bake a cake. Or, they try to. It doesn't exactly go well. (aka, Why Raphaella la Cognizi Should Never Be Allowed in the Kitchen)

read on ao3 here or read below the cut for people who don't like ao3 (i will post the second chapter. at some point. hopefully soon)

Chapter 1

“Try it now.”

“Is it safe?”

“Does that matter?”

Brian gives her what she calls his teacher look, a combination of calm exasperation and gentle chiding. “I would prefer to not fry myself from the inside out, if I can help it.”

“Boring,” Raphaella accuses, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “And you know I’d fix you if you did.” Well actually, she would get Nastya to fix him, as Raph herself has absolutely no self control when it comes to the prospect of tinkering with a complex mechanism and Brian hates being tinkered on without his permission.

“Yes, of course, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt like hell,” Brian points out. “Not to mention how horrendously it would fuck up my systems.”

Raphaella pouts. “So I installed the flamethrower for nothing?”

Brian hesitates. “...I didn’t say that.”

Raphaella perks up immediately, turning her full attention from the clattered worktable to her partner. Brian straightens up and faces away from her, focusing at the blank wall at one end of the lab. He pokes his tongue around the inside of his mouth a little, probing at the new addition in the back. He tests out flipping its settings, making sure everything flows smoothly, then steels himself and opens his mouth, turning it on. Nothing happens.

Raphaella throws up her hands in exasperation. “I don’t understand! That should have worked! It-”

Brian yelps suddenly, clapping his hands to his throat as the back of it heats up rapidly, too rapidly, the heat growing from gently uncomfortable to unbearable in a matter of seconds. Luckily, his systems react before he can, shutting off the new attachment the second it could cause potential harm. The heat fades almost as quickly as it had swelled.

“Ow,” Brian says mildly.

“That was about to work,” Raphaella huffs, hands on her hips, eyes fixed somewhat accusingly on Brian. “If you had just waited a moment longer.”

“It was about to melt my vocal cords,” Brian points out in retort. Raphaella throws up her hands again.

“My husband is a coward,” she declares to no one in particular, with no actual insult behind it. Brian can’t help but smile softly at the endearment. They’re not married, technically, but for all intents and purposes they might as well be.

“I’ve started to become convinced that you’re simply trying to kill me,” Brian remarks to her as she turns back to the notes on her lab table. She shoots him a brightly malicious look, one backed heavily with fondness. “Maybe I am.”

He sits down on the stool beside the lab table and reaches for her, catching her waist from behind and pulling her onto his lap. She leans back into him as he wraps his arms around her, and he rests his chin on her shoulder so he can peer down at the pages of notes in her hands.

“Here, tell me what I’m doing wrong,” Raphaella holds up the notes so Brian can get a better look at them. He hums thoughtfully as he scans her delicate sketch of his body, each part individually labelled with possible enhancements to be added in Raph’s lacy handwriting. Brian’s own handwriting, cramped and blocky, annotates the science officer’s notes with his own observations of measurements and possible difficulties.

In his mind, Brian overlays the sketch on top of the official schematics the doc left in there, focusing on his throat and the new addition, checking for anywhere where it isn’t wired properly or messing with any of his other systems. Nothing. He bites his lip, a very natural bad habit that he’s never been able to shake, despite it splitting the rubber badly. Raphaella hits him lightly in the side of the head when she notices him doing it.

“I don’t think it’s anything you’ve done,” Brian says finally, leaning back slightly on the stool. “I think it’s simply a matter of too much heat.”

Raphaella ‘hmphs’, taking her notes back from him and setting them back on the table. She turns her head to study Brian’s face, placing her hands atop his where they rest over her stomach. He quirks an eyebrow at her, and she regards him silently. He can tell that she’s thinking through what next to work on, now that their flamethrower experiment is a bust.

He gives her stomach a light pat. “If you don’t mind, I was going to go bake something. Tim’s been complaining that there aren’t enough ‘munchies’ onboard. And yes, that is the word xe used.”

Raphaella slaps a hand to her heart melodramatically, the gesture accompanied by a theatrical gasp. “Leaving me for Tim, are we? Scandal.”

Brian chuckles gently as he rises to his feet, dislodging Raph in the process. “Yes, I’ve decided you’re much too cruel and brutal for me, and I’d be much happier feeding Tim for the rest of eternity.”

Raphaella tosses her hair and turns away from him, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her chin up imperiously. “Good riddance.”

“Good riddance indeed,” Brian agrees drily, with no heat behind it. Raph glaces over her shoulder at him and grins, and he smiles back as he slips out the lab door, tipping his hat as he goes.

Ivy’s reading at the kitchen counter when he enters. She doesn’t look up as he makes his way into the kitchen proper, wrangling his hair into a wiry ponytail and tossing his hat on the counter. He peeks at the cover of her book and makes an intrigued little noise when he notices it’s about prophets and oracles throughout space and time.

“I was going to give it you when I was finished,” Ivy says without looking up. “I thought it might interest you.”

“It does,” Brian tells her, and she smirks, proud of herself. She still doesn’t take her eyes off the pages. Brian leans over, resting his elbows on the counter, and knocks his forehead briefly against hers, a somewhat awkward sign of affection that’s he’s developed with some members of the crew. She responds by patting his head absentmindedly, still not looking up from her book. He smiles, and turns back to the kitchen.

After a couple minutes of rummaging around in cabinets, Brian becomes aware of Raphaella’s presence leaning against the counter to his left.

“Missed me?” he asks teasingly. She rolls her eyes and pokes him in the arm. “You promised you’d teach me to bake.”

Brian pauses, replaying the last ten minutes in his mind to confirm that he has not, in fact, promised her this. And then he realizes that she’s referring to a time quite a few decades ago, when the two of them had been left back on the ship while the others had been out pillaging a nigh-extinct planet. They’d been sharing some pastries that Brian had been experimenting with, and Raphaella had asked him how he’d made them. He had launched straight into a detailed explanation of exactly which ingredients he had used and what amounts of each, and how he had played with the measurements and tweaked the recipe to see how he could improve it. Raph had listened with utter fascination, and after he had finished she had mentioned that it seemed a bit like her experiments, only with slightly different materials. He had offered to teach her a little, if she’d like, and she had said she would love to learn. And now here they are.

“I did do that, didn’t I,” Brian muses. He studies Raph, leaning against the counter, a sparkle in her eyes that both makes him excited to see what she has in store and fear for his life.

“So?” Raphaella raises an eyebrow. Brian considers.

“We are making a cake,” he tells her, keeping his voice slow, steady, and serious. “A basic cake. We are not going to put anything in it that is not on the ingredients list. We are going to follow the recipe. To the letter. And we are not, I repeat, we are not going to burn down my kitchen.”

My kitchen, Aurora corrects him gently.

“Our kitchen,” he concedes.

Raphaella steps forward and takes Brian’s hands, looking him solemnly in the eyes. “I won’t let you down,” she promises. “Trust me.”

“Phee, I love you to death, and I always will” Brian tells her, lifting her hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it. “But I draw the line at trusting you.”

“Rude,” Raph sniffs, while Ivy tries to cover up a snort.

“Practical,” Brian shoots back, letting go of her hands and reaching past her to pluck the recipe from the counter. With a flourish, he deposits it in her hands. “Find me these ingredients.”

Raphaella mutters something about ‘bossybitch Brian’ as she turns away from him and marches purposefully toward the cupboards. He watches her fondly for a moment, before busying himself gathering pans and setting up his beloved electric mixer, something he’d found being sold for scraps on a junkyard planet and had lovingly repaired and repainted with his own two hands. Its name is Small Brian, and it remains one of his most prized possessions.

“Bri, which eggs are we using?” Raphaella calls to him, her head buried deep in the disorganized fridge. Brian abandons Small Brian for just a moment and pokes his head in beside hers.

“Ah, not those,” he says, indicating a half dozen of jet-black eggs glowing faintly from within. “Those are Ashes’. They will supposedly hatch into a rare breed of fire-breathing corvid.”

“And those?” Raphaella points to the other carton of eggs.

“We’re using those,” Brian confirms, pulling the carton out. “Ah. Wait. Not this one.” Carefully, he removes a small, round, green orb from the carton and places it gently on the counter. “An octokitten laid this. We think.”

Raphaella leans over and picks it up, holding it in the palm of her hand and bringing it up close to her eyes. She looks suspiciously like she’s about to slip it into her pocket, so Brian plucks it from her hands before she gets a chance to. She sticks her tongue out at him. He waves her off to go collect the rest of the ingredients, reminding her that the lovely ceramic pot labeled ‘sugar’ is in fact actually filled with gunpowder, and the sugar is in the cabinet to its right. Meanwhile he goes back to fussing over Small Brian.

The mixer isn’t starting up properly, it keeps stuttering and stopping whenever he tries to turn it on. Brian frowns, tapping the top of it with a metal finger. “Come on, love,” he says softly to Small Brian. “Don’t give up on me now. Not after all we’ve been through.”

“Raph,” Ivy speaks up from her place at the counter, her tone amused. “Brian’s talking to the appliances again.”

“If either of you make a joke comparing me to an appliance, I will kill you,” Brian warns both of them placidly, fiddling with Small Brian’s mechanisms until the machine whines and starts up properly. “Good lad,” Brian says, patting the appliance lovingly.

“I saw that,” he adds when he catches the look Ivy and Raphaella share over the counter. Raphaella rolls her eyes and gestures to him to come approve the ingredients she’s gathered. She hooks her arm through his and tips her head onto his shoulder while he checks each one off against the recipe.

“Excellent, that’s everything. Thank you.” he says, kissing her on the top of the head. “ Now we can begin.”

Raphaella, as always, is a very attentive student, listening well and asking questions when necessary. He suspects that she asks some of the questions just to listen to him talk about something he loves, and he adores her for it. They work very well together, the two of them, bantering back and forth as they do. Ivy chimes in on occasion, never taking her eyes off of her book.

Jonny strolls into the kitchen at one point, zeroing in on the chocolate chips scattered across the counter with a predator’s precision. As soon as he spots the first mate, Brian sweeps a knife into his hand and points it at him. “Out.”

Jonny backs away, throwing his hands up in surrender. He’s been killed enough times over messing around in the kitchen that he knows by now that the best thing to do is back off.

All in all, it’s a shockingly peaceful time. Brian hums to himself as he stirs ingredients together, and Raphaella goes through the cupboards, looking for something to play with. She reaches to open one in the back, and Brian notices too late which one it is. Raphaella stops, tilting her head in curiosity as she stares at the contents of the cupboard.

“Oh, Briiiiiiiiaaan?” she calls in a singsong voice, which is usually a sign that Brian is about to either be taken apart or assist in taking apart someone else. “What is this?”

Brian sighs and sets down the bowl, making his way slowly over to her. She raises an eyebrow at him as he gazes silently for a moment at the dismantled skeleton shoved into the back of the cupboard. “Those… are my bones.”

“Your… bones.”

“My bones.”

“Why…?”

Brian shrugs. “It’s not like I’m using them.”

“Right.” Raphaella studies the skeleton for a moment longer, before declaring, “I’m going to make soup out of them.”

Brian starts. “I’m sorry?”

“Your bones. I’m going to make soup out of them.”

“You are not.”

“Bone broth is a thing, isn’t it? Ivy?”

“It is,” Ivy confirms, casually turning a page.

Raphaella grins, gathering the bones into her arms. “Brian soup.”

“Brian s- no!”

“Brian soup Brian soup Brian soup Brian soup-”

“NO.”

“I thought the doc took your bones,” Ivy mentions, as Brian attempts to gently cajole his partner into giving him back said bones.

“I asked her to let me keep some of them,” Brian explains, tugging a rib out of Raph’s arms and dislodging about three more, which clatter to the floor unceremoniously. “They are mine, after all.”

“It’s unusually sentimental of me, I know,” he adds as Raphaella ducks under his arm, executing a perfect twirl to get the bones out of his reach, “I’m not quite sure why I wanted them.”

“For soup,” Raphaella quips, and Ivy snorts as Brian throws himself at the science officer. Raph yelps and scrambles away from him, and so begins an epic chase around the kitchen, Raph struggling to run away while clutching an armful of bones, the owner of said bones following a step behind her, playfully angry.

Brian doesn’t realize he’s started humming to himself until Raphaella turns to face him, jogging backwards, and asks what song it is.

“It’s a new one I’m working on,” he says, using her moment of distraction as an opportunity to trap her in the kitchen, the wraparound counter devoid of exits besides the one that he is currently standing in front of. “It’s called ‘Raphaella Please Don’t Make Soup Out of My Bones.’”

“I hate it,” Raphaella decides, still backing away. She’s almost hit the counter, and Brian smirks at his inevitable victory.

“You’ve barely heard it,” he argues, and begins humming louder. Raphaella’s back hits the counter, and Brian stops. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, he begins tapping his foot along to the tune.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Raphaella starts, but the other foot has already begun to move as well. Just tapping at first, tap tap tapping to a beat in Brian’s head, but the footwork quickly becomes more and more complicated as he eases into the song. Ivy picks it up quickly and starts tapping her fingers on the counter, taking charge of the beat while Brian continues humming the melody.

Raphaella shakes her head, refusing to let his shenanigans charm her, but Brian refuses to give up. He dances his way smoothly across the floor to her, finishing with an elegant twirl and an extended hand. Raphaella regards him with reluctant defeat, then rolls her eyes and takes Brian’s hand.

He waltzes her out into the middle of the floor, two steps forward, one step back. He spins her out, then spins her back in so they’re swaying with her back pressed to his chest. “You’re a master manipulator, you know,” she says to him. He smiles. She twirls him out, then twirls him back in and dips him, effortlessly holding up his mass of metal.

“I don’t remember this step of the cake recipe,” Ivy comments drily. She’s finally looking up from her book and is watching the two of them with an expression that is equal parts exasperated and amused.

“Which step, the bone soup or the dancing?” Brian returns, just as dry. Ivy is saved from having to respond by the arrival of Marius, who comes striding through the door like an invading general, arms spread wide in greeting.

“Well, if it isn’t my three favorite delinquents,” fae says, grinning like a maniac. “Dancing in the kitchen like- wait. Why is Raph in the kitchen?”

“I’m helping,” Raph says proudly, tossing her hair over her shoulder in a decidedly smug fashion as Brian collects his bones and returns them to their cupboard. “How can we help you?”

Marius pulls up a stool and takes a seat next to Ivy, scanning the pages of her book idly. “Tim stole my partner.”

“To be fair, Tim is also dating your partner,” Brian points out, handing the bowl of cake batter to Raph to finish stirring and put in the oven.

“Sure, but she’s being smug about it. So I’m pouting,” Marius replies, metal fingers tapping on the counter. “Oh, also: Tim wanted me to tell you. She/her for the time being.”

Brian nods, taking note of the pronouns. “Well, when you feel like speaking to Tim again, you can tell her that a cake is on its way.”

Marius raises an eyebrow. “You mean that cake that Raph just slipped something into behind your back?”

Honestly, Brian is surprised that this didn’t happen earlier. Slowly, he turns to Raphaella, who meets his eyes with a mischievous smirk as she slips an empty vial back into her pocket.

“What was in that?” he asks gently, not mad, just curious.

“Just a little something I whipped up,” Raphaella says, giving the batter an experimental stir. An odd squelching noise escapes from the bowl, and she quickly lets go of the wooden spoon as a dark tendril of… something curls up around it, possessive and hungry. “Oh. That’s interesting.”

“What the fuck was that?” Marius leans forward over the counter, curiosity evident on faer features.

Raphaella sets the bowl carefully on the floor and steps away from it, circling around it to Brian’s side. He gives her a questioning look, and she shrugs cheerfully, indicating that she has no idea whatsoever the effect of whatever she put in may be. With somewhat tired resignation, Brian steps forward to investigate what has become of his simple chocolate cake.

It’s… alive. The dark, viscous substance in the bowl has begun to writhe and bubble in a distinctively sentient manner, tendrils forming reaching out, looking to grab hold of something. The tendrils feel their way around tentatively, like a newborn animal learning to walk for the first time. The substance itself has an oddly familiar shimmer to it, the nearly oil-black surface revealing colors of every hue and nature when the light hits it.

“That looks like…” Marius frowns, clambering over the counter and dropping next to Brian as what was meant to be a cake slowly drags itself out of the bowl and onto the floor. “Oh, Raph, you didn’t!”

“Don’t touch it,” Brian advises as Marius crouches near the thing to get a better look.

Marius gives the Drumbot a scathing look. “I’m not a moron, Brian, I’m not going to-”

“Mare, get back,” Brian snaps, but it’s too late. The crawling blob has already reached the violinists foot and has clamped on tightly, wrapping its tentacles up and around his leg. He stares down at it in mild concern for a moment, then says: “Fuck.”

What happens next is hard to describe. The viscous thing sort of… stretches itself, until it covers Marius’ entire body, undulating and pulsing, then collapses in on itself, returning to its smaller form, leaving nothing but a slightly steaming metal arm left where the ship’s doctor once stood.

“What the hell did you do?” Brian demands, staring at the (now slightly larger) creation as it drags its way across the floor.

Raphaella doesn’t respond. “I think it ate faer,” she says instead. Then, “where is it going?”

Brian glances at the floor just in time to see the thing disappear into the vents. He lets out a cry, but it is much to late. It’s gone.

“Well,” Ivy says, staring with vague concern at the open vent. “Fuck.”

[reinerispretty]

rotations. (zuko x f!reader) pt3

like i said, i have all of this written up so i’m sorry i’m posting so much lmao!! but thank you so much for reading!! like i said before, if you have any suggestions about where you’d like this story to go, let me know!! 

pt 1

pt 2

pt 4

“What happened?” She directed her question at Zuko. He was so angry, he refused to look at her.

“Nothing,” he replied, before stalking back into the palace. She stared at Azula, who simply shrugged and walked away. Quickly, she followed after Zuko. He had a special room in the palace that he liked to hide out in whenever he was upset, which happened quite frequently. She knew exactly where he would be.

The door to the library was incredibly heavy but she managed to push it open herself. She walked through the many shelves of books until she reached the back of the library, where Zuko sat with his knees pulled to his chest.

When they returned home from Ember Island, (Y/N) stayed home for the longest period of time since she had met Zuko. She repeatedly asked her father when she would go back to the palace, but he never answered her. She wrote letters to Zuko, but he never replied. For the first time in years, she felt completely alone in the world. 

Until finally, a carriage arrived to take her to the palace. Carriages normally arrived with Zuko in tow to accompany her, but this one was empty. She sat by herself as the driver took her within the gates of the palace. 

Zuko and Azula were standing in the courtyard when she arrived. Azula ran up to (Y/N) and wrapped her in a hug, which was the most affection that Azula had probably shown anyone before. She hugged her back and smiled. 

“I missed you guys!” She cheered as she turned to Zuko. His face was solemn and sad. She had never seen this reaction from him before. 

“Don’t mind Zuzu, (Y/N), “ Azula sighed. “He’s just upset that Mother left us.” 

“She what?” She stared at the two siblings. 

“Good riddance, in my opinion--” Azula began, but Zuko cut her off. 

“Don’t talk about her like that!” His fists were balled, and he looked like he was ready to shoot fire at her. 

“What happened?” She directed her question at Zuko. He was so angry, he refused to look at her. 

“Nothing,” he replied, before stalking back into the palace. She stared at Azula, who simply shrugged and walked away. Quickly, she followed after Zuko. He had a special room in the palace that he liked to hide out in whenever he was upset, which happened quite frequently. She knew exactly where he would be. 

The door to the library was incredibly heavy but she managed to push it open herself. She walked through the many shelves of books until she reached the back of the library, where Zuko sat with his knees pulled to his chest. His head was tucked down, so he was only alerted to her presence when she sat in front of him.

She took his hands in his own to try to get him to open up. He snatched them away. She was panicked. She did not know what to say. What could she say? As much as she did not like her own mother, she could not imagine what she would do if one day she disappeared. 

“Zuko...I’m so sorry.” 

“I don’t want your apologies.” 

“What do you want?” 

“I want...I want my mother back!” Zuko snapped. “She’s the only one here who actually cared about me and now she’s gone.” 

“Zuko, you know that’s not true.” 

“It is! You don’t see what I see. You don’t know what happens when you’re not here.” 

She frowned. She thought Zuko told her everything. It was obvious there were some things he kept her in the dark about. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Despite Ursa’s disappearance, Fire Lord Ozai and (Y/N’s) father kept their plan of marrying their children. She began to be trained in the traditions and etiquette that defined the royal family. She had to fight to continue her firebending lesson, as both her mother and her teachers deemed it unbecoming of a future Fire Princess. Fire Lord Ozai agreed to have her training continued at Azula’s suggestion, who claimed that she was bored not having anyone to fight against. 

But during her twelfth year, her entire life changed. Zuko had spoken against an attack plan that her father proposed during a war meeting. His punishment was an Agni Kai.

She had decided to come to Zuko’s chambers before everyone was supposed to gather to watch the battle. She quietly closed the door behind her. Zuko sat on the ground, stretching his legs. He smirked up at his friend and she felt her heart skip a beat. Two years ago, she had been opposed to the idea of marrying her best friend. Now, she lay in bed at night and wondered what their marriage might be like. She thought that he had grown affection for her as well. They spent more time alone together and just the other day, he had brought her a bouquet of fire lilies. 

“Nice to see you,” Zuko said as he stood. (Y/N) kept her back pressed up against the door. 

“I don’t think you should participate in the Agni Kai today.” Zuko laughed.

“No offense, (Y/N), but if I’m challenging your father, I bet I could take him.” 

“I don’t think you should go out there. I have a bad feeling about it, Zuko.” 

He put his hands on her arms and smiled. “You have nothing to worry about. I’m the Prince of the Fire Nation. I’ll be fine.” 

She stared up at him. He had grown taller since she had first met him. His smile made her heart grow warm.

“Could we run away?” She asked. 

“And abandon the Fire Nation? Are you insane?” She shook her head. 

“I just...” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. “Good luck, Zuko.” She stood on her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek before ducking out of his room before he could say anything else. 

She wasn’t quite sure if people could feel their hearts break, but once she realized that Fire Lord Ozai would be challenging Zuko, she could have sworn that she felt her heart crack. She begged her father not to make her witness the Agni Kai. She wanted to leave. She tried to turn away as Zuko begged his father for mercy, but her own father made her face forward and stare. Zuko was just a teenager, he had hardly mastered any of his firebending.

“This is what happens when you dishonor the Fire Lord,” Her father whispered in her ear, and she felt a sob in her throat. She couldn’t say anything. She would be accused of treason if she called for the Agni Kai to stop. 

For years, she had believed that the Fire Nation was the greatest nation in the world. But as she watched Zuko beg his father for mercy and his father ignoring him and shooting fireballs, she couldn’t help but think that she had been wrong her entire life. 

Zuko was banished from the Fire Nation after that and was told that he could only return if he found the Avatar. (Y/N) sobbed hysterically when she had learned this news. The Avatar had been missing for over a hundred years. No one knew where they would be. 

Because of Zuko’s banishment, their betrothal to one another was nullified. Her family was ordered to travel to a powerful Earth Kingdom town and claim it as a Fire Nation colony. She had numbly given Azula a hug as she was sent away to the Earth Kingdom, knowing that she would likely never see her home again. 

read part 4 here!

[bunnyywritings]

no one else but you

Greed x fem!reader

[a/n: thank you for another request! It’s been a hot minute since I re-watched FMAB so I’m a little rusty with the characters. I think I made him rlly soft here...This is set after Promised Day with a twist! Greed lives, has control over his body and tries to start a new life with his s/o. What’s in BOLD is the reader dreaming. enjoy! -yours truly, bunnyy-`ღ´-  ps. I 100/10 do not recommend writing after being awake for like 29 hours lol I lost my train of thought waaaaaay too many times while writing this ]

“What? You thought I still wanted to be with you?” The disgust in his voice made the pit in your stomach grow. “You seem to forget who I am. I’m Greed.”

“But I thought-” You were cut off by a scoff.

“I didn’t think there was anything useful in there.” The was he was belittling you was the last straw, your shoulders shaking uncontrollably as tears streamed down your flushed cheeks like a waterfall.

“W-why are you s-saying these t-things? This isn’t l-like you!” You pleaded.

“Yeah, well that was when the twerp was still in charge. I hate to break it to you sweetheart, you don’t know me at all.” A wicked grin curled his lips, the hardening of his outer-shell grabbed your attention. It encased just his arm. Before you could say anything else, he used that hand and grabbed you by the throat. His grip was deadly as he picked you up from your knelt position on the floor. “Now if you’re done with your yapping, I don’t need you anymore. You were nothing but a hindrance.” he emphasized his words with a growl before tossing you onto the bed,

“Good riddance, (y/n).”He spat and you watched his back as he walked past the doorway.

“N-no! Greed! G-Greed please! Please d-don’t leave me!” Your hoarse voice fell onto deaf ears. “Please don’t go...”

You jolted awake in a cold sweat, tears leaking from your eyes as you curled into yourself, tugging the duvet closer to your body.

Greed had been away for about a week or so, saying he had “things to take care of.” Whatever that meant, you had no idea. You just knew that it had nothing to do with this ‘Father’ character either, but you never really questioned Greed. You trusted him. Even if he was a homonculous and even if he was an ex-member of a secret military that tried to take over the government. With Greed’s newfound freedom, he was eager to start over. Start a new life with him. He was different though, it wasn’t like ‘GreedLing’ as Edward liked to call him, he was completely greed. Through and through. It was like a total personality change. He still respected you and loved you, there was no doubt about it. However, you couldn’t help but feel inadequate when he would return to your shared apartment after running an errand and would brag about how many girls, and guys, wanted his attention. Saying things about how gorgeous/handsome they were, and how they basically threw themselves at him. Not to mention all the perks that he had received by just existing. Discounts on clothing, or the butcher lady “looking the other way’ and giving him an extra pound of meat, free of charge. Slowly, your insecurities came into the light. Being afraid that one day he’d find another girl that you were no match for. One that had an amazing body, smarts to match his wit. You feared it so much that it was a recurring nightmare that you had been having for weeks. Greed had noticed how off you were acting and asked if you were okay and not wanting to burden him with your silly thoughts, you just shrugged him off. Fake smile painted on your lips as the phrase, “I’m fine.” seemed to leave them at least 4 times a day.

He had called you a day or two ago and said that he’d be back soon. How long was soon? Had he already found someone else? Were you really someone that wasn’t worth his time and attention....pfft. What were you thinking? Of course you weren’t, he deserved so much better. He deserved a girl who wouldn’t hate what she saw in the mirror. He wouldn’t want a girl who wasn’t smart and witty like he was. He’s Greed. He only wants, and deserves, the best of the best.

These thoughts plagued your mind as you went through the day, trying to fill the time. Doing useless things. Cleaning everything at least 5 times over, or picking up a book and getting comfortable on the couch only to put the book down 15 minutes later. Mind racing with unanswered questions and suspicions.

As the day passed by and the sun started to say its final goodbyes with an array of reds and oranges smeared across the sky, the fear in your tummy swelled. You reluctantly got ready for bed, dreading every second that passes by. Hours passed, you laid in the dark resisting the way your heavy eyelids dropped closed. If you didn’t sleep, you didn’t dream. Simple. Easier said than done.

Disappointment filling your entire being as you gave in. Letting your eyelids shut and sleep tug at your subconscious mind. An surely enough, those fears plagued your dreams. Leaving you to toss and turn in the sheets, mumbled phrases escaping your lips.

“(Y/n) this is Lust, she’s an...old friend.” During that pause, you definitely didn’t miss the way his eyes were running over the curves of her scantily clad body. A thing, serpentine smirk grew on her lips. The dark crimson color shimmering under the golden light of mid-day. “I thought it was finally time for a change of pace so, it’s time for you to go.” The grin on his lips was playful but his eyes were piercing into you, in any way but playful.

As you looked her over, you weren’t surprised why he had picked her over you. Her breasts were perky and perfect, her curvy yet slim body was enticing in a way that yours never could be (so you thought), her lips may have been thinner than yours but they seemed to fit her small frame perfectly. Her stomach was flat and probably didn’t protrude when she sat comfortably (it so did), and the way Greed was hungrily eyeing her definitely gave away his own selfish intentions of getting himself off.

“What? But w-where would I-“ your stutters were cut off by Greed making an exclamation.

“And she has a fully functioning brain. Unlike the poor excuse of a walnut, that you no doubt have, as a brain!” He chuckled, you couldn’t believe he was going this far to be cruel. You were so distraught that you hadn’t noticed the tears falling from your face. “Great! And here come the water works again!” Greed scoffed.

The one thing Greed hadn’t expected when he stepped into the apartment was to be instantly met by your screams. It was what you said that made his heart ache.

“Greed! Please, please I know t-that I’m not enough but-” He stopped at the door, it was open just a crack but it was enough to see you sit up, eyes wide and tears trailing down your cheeks. He watched with a broken heart as you approached the mirror.

“Of course he doesn’t want you. Who would?” You started to prod at your tummy, then at your thighs, before your hands moved upwards and cupping your breasts a bit, holding them up a bit before you let them drop naturally and went to pick at your skin. Scowl permanent on your beautiful face. “He deserves better than-than trash.” That was it. He shoved the door open, causing you to jump and turn to him.

“G-Greed? You’re back?” You were slightly afraid as you watched his towering figure march over to you. Clenching your eyes shut to endure any verbal abuse he was going to inevitably spew at you...but it never came. Instead, his arms wrapped around you and pulled you into his chest.

“Why are you saying those things? Hmm? Why are you hurting my pretty girl?” You were taken aback by his reaction. Why were you acting this way.

“N-No, it’s silly...”Your cheeks flushed red in embarrassment, as you shook your head and nuzzled into his warmth.

“It’s not silly if you’re this upset. Now come one, tell me.” He noticed your hesitance and chuckled. “Look, just because I am the way I am. Greed. Doesn’t mean that I don’t care for anyone else.” He assumed he guessed correctly on the reason you sere so upset. “I love you.”

“Are you sure? Because you could have anyone one you want, crave anyone you want and you’d still pick me?” The disbelief in your voice wounded him.

“Yes.” There was zero hesitance. “I would still pick you. Every. Damn.Time.” Tears rose to your eyes once again but they were for the overwhelming feeling of affection in his words. The way he didn’t stutter when he said it caused chills to run up your spine. “You have no idea how much you mean to me, (y/n). You stuck by me despite my faults. Despite my flaws. You loved me regardless of what I had done.”

“Well you did the same for me.” 

“Well how could I not? You don’t have flaws.” He cupped your cheeks and leaned down to kiss away the remaining of the tears. He then got behind you and hugged your waist as you both stood in front of the mirror. “Your body is deliciously stunning.” He playfully bit your neck which caused you to squeal a little.

“But what about-?” You had motioned down to the slight pudginess of your tummy.

“What? Your belly? I absolutely love your belly, it’s super soft and it makes you very cuddly. I wouldn’t have you any other way.” His hands then slowly ran up your torso. “And you know I love these. No explanation needed. They’re perfect.” He purred as he gave your breasts the tiniest, most playful of squeezes.

“Greed!” You giggled, falling back into him. All fear and insecurity seeping out of your body.

“Shouldn’t me being with you be reassurance enough?” There was a cockiness in his tone, goodhearted but cocky nonetheless. “I’m Greed. I only desire the best of the best.” He spoke in a powerful voice, one you would fear if you didn’t know him. “And I only desire you, my love.” You made eye contact with him through the mirror.

“Only me? You wouldn’t want someone prettier? Or smarter?”

“Nope. It’s you. No one but you. You’re perfect the way you are and no one else could ever be the one for me.” he gently pushed your chin to move your head to the side, lips meeting his in a passion filled kiss. Spilling all your emotions into it.

“Now...” He gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him. “why don’t I spend the entire night showing you that you’re all that I want.”

Needless to say, after this night, you never once again doubted Greed’s love for you. And from here on out he made sure to remind you every day. 

[agerefandom]

All The Great Men

Fandom: Pinky and the Brain

Characters: Pinky & Brain

Words: 1,500

Summary: Brain is tired and stressed. Pinky’s doing his best to help. (Could be read as regression or just hurt/comfort.) 

Warnings: Idolization of military leaders. Brain is very hard on himself and has anti-regression thoughts, emotional hurt/comfort. Fear of being trapped. Mentions of experimentation and chronic pain. 

Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Charlemagne…

Brain flipped through his favourite book, searching for a section that he hadn’t already memorized. The collection of famous conquerors was something he’d read over and over again, for almost as long as he could remember. It had been a hard week, full of failures, and there was something comforting about curling up with the same great men he’d studied all his life. Tamerlane, Attila, Napoleon Bonaparte… Brain traced his hands over the names and pictures, tapping a claw on Napoleon’s hat.

Brain thought he would look nice with an official hat like that. He’d always imagined having a crown when he ruled the world, but perhaps a hat would be less chafing.

“Hey Brain!” And speaking of chafing…

Pinky clambered up to the top of the cage, his tail winding around the bars to help him stay upright as he made his way towards Brain and his book. Brain glanced towards him and then back to his page. Pinky needed attention like a sunflower needed light, but Brain was busy. Let him watch television and eat cake, or whatever brain-dimming activities Pinky enjoyed when Brain was working.

“What’cha reading? Ugh, history again? Are you trying to take a nap?” Pinky climbed onto the book, walking over Attila’s face without noticing. Brain inhaled sharply, trying not to show his indignation.

“I’ve told you, Pinky, the study of history is instrumental to understanding the nature of human submission,” Brain said. Even thinking about trying to take over the world made him feel tired at the moment. But it was the one thing Pinky may understand.

“Blah, blah, blah,” Pinky complained, flopping down on the book so that his nose almost brushed against Brain’s. Brain flinched back automatically, unprepared for the contact. “Come on, Brain, I want to play a game.”

“I am busy.” Brain couldn’t turn the pages because Pinky was in the way, so he turned his attention to the page Pinky wasn’t currently obscuring with his body. He had read this book enough times to know most of it by heart, so it didn’t feel wrong to pick up halfway through the story of Attila’s invasion of the Byzantine Empire. “You can entertain yourself.”

“But Braaaaaiiiin,” Pinky whined. Brain glanced over just at the wrong time to see his large pleading stare. A light shone in the tearful gleam of Pinky’s eyes. He did look admirably pitiful, and Brain sighed. He was well aware that it was an act, but he couldn’t say no.

However, he did pinch Pinky’s nose first to make him stop those ridiculous eyes.

“Ow!” Pinky shrieked, rubbing the sore spot and pouting. “Does that mean you’ll come play?”

“If it is the only way to get you off my very important readings, then yes, Pinky, I will come ‘play,’” Brain said, snapping the book closed. Pinky narrowly avoided being squished by the cover, darting to one side and snatching his tail out of the pages just in time. “What idiotic scheme have you concocted today?”

“Well, I thought that you could make up the game today, Brain!” Pinky clambered onto the closed book and sat on the edge with his feet dangling in the air. “You never like my ideas, so I wanted you to decide what we did!”

“I decide what we do every evening,” Brain sighed. The thought of making more decisions was exhausting.

“Yeah, but that’s work. What do you like to do for fun??”

“I like to read, Pinky.” Brain gave a significant look at the pages that Pinky was currently kicking his feet against.

“Reading is fundamental,” Pinky said, in a voice that made it clear he was quoting something from the TV. “But you must like to play sometimes!”

“Playing is for children,” Brain muttered. “I do not ‘play,’ as you say.”

“But playing is fun!” Pinky looked genuinely upset by Brain’s opinion. “You can be anything you want to be! How can you not like to play?”

“You cannot simply ‘be anything you want to be,’ Pinky. It is just a fantasy. You will never be anything more than a laboratory mouse. And that is why there is no point in playing pretend,” Brain snapped. “It makes you lose track of reality, which is that we are trapped in this cage, and unless we can change that, we will be trapped here forever.”

They could escape at night, of course, but there were trackers in their blood that Brain hadn’t yet managed to isolate. Come the morning, they were either in their cage, or they were caught and punished. There were no other options.

Brain turned away from his friend, drawing his knees up against his chest. He missed the days when his tail was flexible, an extra comfort that he could wrap around himself. Now it was permanently jagged, painful to touch. Just another piece of how the labs had changed him, taken away what he’d been.

“Brain…” Pinky’s voice came from behind him, soft and tearful. He upset Pinky again. That was fine, Pinky would forget all about the argument in a few minutes. He always did.

Sure enough, Brain only took three deep breaths before he heard Pinky scrabbling back into the cage. Good riddance, he told himself, but he could already feel the tears prickling his eyes. Stupid weakness. He rubbed his arm across his eyes impatiently, tears dampening his fur. You’re not a baby. Get a hold of yourself.

Time stretched, and Brain struggled. He refused to let himself cry, but the tears wouldn’t stop welling up. He sat in denial, unwilling to admit to the dampness he felt on his cheeks. He wished Pinky had never interrupted his reading. It had been safe in that book, with all its familiar characters of the past.

Brain didn’t know how many minutes had passed when he heard Pinky coming back. He’d probably forgotten about their fight, and was coming again to try and pull Brain into an ill-considered activity. But Pinky’s first words were a surprise.

“I’m sorry, Brain.”

Brain couldn’t turn to give Pinky an incredulous look, all too aware of the tears still weighing down the fur on his face. He could still feel the confusion twist his expression as he kept his head down. What was Pinky apologizing for, without any prompting?

“I didn’t know you thought all that. That we were trapped, and everything.” Pinky’s footsteps got closer. “I didn’t mean to push the playing, I just… it’s fun, you know? And you should have fun, Brain! It makes me sad when you’re all grumpy and tired.” That’s a fair description, Brain admitted to himself with a touch of humour. “Anyways, I brought you some cake. It always makes me feel better when I’m upset.”

Pinky’s arm came into view, holding a dainty white plate with the forementioned piece of cake. It wiggled slightly in front of Brain’s nose, the fork almost sliding off. To save the cutlery from falling back into the cage, Brain accepted the plate, holding it in front of himself. Although he didn’t turn to look, he could feel Pinky sit down beside him.

There was a moment of peaceable silence, and Brain considered eating the cake. It was clearly an olive branch, and although he didn’t particularly feel like sweets, it would be the polite thing to eat it once it had been accepted.

“Are you crying?” Pinky asked abruptly, pushing a finger into the sodden fur of Brain’s cheek. “Did I do that?”

“No, Pinky, it’s my allergies,” Brain said, shifting away from the contact. “Nothing to do with you.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Pinky said, his voice rising. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, Brain, honestly I didn’t! I just wanted to have fun with you! I wanted you to pick a game!” His arms wrapped around Brain, holding him tight.  

Brain froze, unsure of what to do. The cake in his hands made him unable to push Pinky away… or to return the affectionate gesture. The only thing he could do was sit and tolerate the embrace, for as long as Pinky desired.

It was nice, if Brain was to be honest. Pinky was always the softer of the two of them, keeping up with grooming and even seeking out products for his fur. The hug was tight and warm and maybe even a little bit comforting. Brain realized that he was leaning slightly against Pinky, a wordless acceptance of the affection.

“Thank you for the cake,” Brian mumbled. Pinky squeezed his arms around Brain, pulling him even closer and nuzzling his cheek against Brain’s.

“Any time, NARF! Any time at all.”

The two of them sat there, Brain holding a plate of uneaten cake and Pinky holding Brain. This was better than the book, Brain admitted to himself. This felt… restful. Perhaps playing wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

[flying-nightwing]

The Incredible Coincidence of One High School Reunion

As promised, the awaited enemies to lovers x fake dating i’ve promised today! (ft. my love for super long titles) 

Thank you to everyone supporting me!

PS: if your name is Monica I am truly sorry, please forgive me.

Masterlist

Pairing: Dick Grayson x reader

Word count: 4916

Warnings: none beside extreme cheesiness

Out of everyone you thought would show up to the Gotham Academy 10 years alumni reunion, Dick Grayson was definitely not one of them. He was the golden boy, the Wayne kid that probably had a long list of better things to do than entertain than his old cohort of high school graduates. Alas, there he was in all of his glory, and it pissed you off.

You and Dick had, to say the least, a difficult relation. You had been friends, for a little while after he started at the academy. You had a lot of classes together and more often than not ended up working together. You helped him get acclimated to the new school and environment, introduced him to all your friends and invited him to your extracurricular activities. But then, ever so slowly, everything became a competition. Who got the best grades, who got involved in most committees, and even who the teachers liked most. Naturally, he bested you in everything and made a point to shove it back in your face. He became your nemesis, and this adversity dealt one hell of a blow to your social standing. People liked Dick better, of course they did, so they stopped hanging out with you.

Good riddance, you told yourself. They outed themselves as fake friends anyway, so the loss hadn’t been catastrophic. Still, for a teenage girl, it had hurt. You had been doomed as the loner, all because you had befriended the wrong person in the first place. The saddest part was that you genuinely missed your friendship with Dick, but you just couldn’t go back to him. It would have made you look pathetic and desperate, and you were not about to stoop so low. Sure you had a few other acquaintances you ate lunch with and did teamwork, but it wasn’t the same.

He was mingling with the people, talking and laughing in his probably expensive suit. You rolled your eyes at the sight and downed your glass of champagne, then made your way back to the refreshment table. On the way you bumped into an old colleague from the recycling committee and entertained small talk, then you made it there without another obstacle. You stopped in front of the already filled glasses of wine and hesitated. The red wine smelled horrible, the white seemed watered down, but the rosé looked like a good choice. You reached for the last glass when your hand collided with another. you looked up to apologize, but as you caught a glimpse of the other person, your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance and retracted your hand like it touched fire. 

“Grayson” You said through clipped lips.

“(Y/L/N)”

“Still trying to steal my only joy left, I see” You scoffed, nodding at the still unclaimed rosé glass.

“And you’re still baselessly accusing everyone but yourself for undermining you” He rolled his eyes. “Nothing has changed”

“What do you want?” You sighed, crossing your arms against your chest and glaring up at him. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Well, I was just trying to get a drink” He lifted his hands up in surrender, but in a sarcastic way that just irritated you, and he knew it all to well. “You were the one who got all pissy about it”

“Yeah whatever, I guess I should have bowed and offered you the glass on a silver platter” You huffed. “So his Highness wouldn’t have been inconvenienced”

“Are you kidding me?” His eyebrows raised. “Why are you like this? I’ve never--”

He stopped talking, his eyes fixated on something behind you for a second. Then, he made himself surprisingly small and glanced away. You frowned in confusion for a second, before you looked over your shoulder and blanched, understanding the reaction all too well. You shared a look of panic, simultaneously putting away the animosity between each other to brace yourself for the horror that was to come.

And that horror was named Monica.

She confidently walked toward you, graceful in her high heels and frustratingly stunning in her knee length dark blue dress. She was your ex supposed best friend, and the first one to ditch you for Dick when the rivalry began. She then proceeded to make a point of showing off her pinning for him, trying desperately to make her and him a “thing”. It never worked, but she kept going, so much it became borderline stalking. The whole school knew, it fueled everyone’s gossip.

Without missing a beat, she extended in arm in between you and Dick to grab the last glass of rosé, leaning not so subtly more in his space than she needed to. She sipped the alcohol almost seductively, gazing at Dick with practiced innocence. It was becoming uncomfortable real quick.

“Hi Richard” She gave him her best smile, then shot you a smug glance as if saying watch this. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good” He replied without much interest, refusing to meet her eyes. “How about you?”

“Amazing! I’ve been working on totally rebranding my father’s hotel company” She chatted excitedly. You sighed inwardly and grabbed a glass of white wine, taking a long sip. “If you want to, I can show you the new rooms design. We could test the mattresses…”

You choked on your wine while Dick’s eyes considerably widened. Monica was waiting for an answer.

“I uh-- Actually I can’t…” He sputtered, trying to come up with an excuse to reject her. Oh, that would be interesting alright. He knew how persuasive she could be, so he had to find something solid. He looked around in a panic, then his eyes settled on you. “... Because (Y/N) and I are together”

His words didn’t quite register in your head as he threw an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his side with a wide forced smile. His fingers giving a small pleading tug to your dress snapped you out of your stupor, and you plastered a matching grin on your lips. You hated the idea of bailing Dick out of an embarrassing situation, but the opportunity of taunting Monica was just too good to pass, so you decided to play along.

“What?” Monica blinked in confusion, then frowned. “I didn’t know that”

“That’s because we’ve been keeping it very private” He replied smoothly. “I wanted to keep her away from the paps, they’re such vultures sometimes”

“Oh” She simply said, before smiling sweetly. It was too sweet. You didn’t like it one bit. “So how did it happen?”

“Well, we bumped into each other again last year, totally by accident” You took over Dick’s hesitation. “And uh, we cleared things up and it kinda just… Happened”

You made a point of giving him heart eyes as you finally returned his awkward embrace. His muscles untensed a bit when he saw you wouldn’t sabotage him. Something shifted in Monica’s eyes, they became just a bit more somber without her losing the smile. It made her look just a bit insane.

“I see” Her tone turned hostile. “I guess you won’t mind if I share the good news, won’t you?” 

“... Yeah, we don’t mind” He scratched the back of his neck while your stomach dropped. You hadn’t thought about this. The smugness returned as she turned around, flipping her hair in the process. You watched her walk away before sending a thundering glare at Dick, who had his lips pressed in a thin line.

“Really?” 

“What was I supposed to do?” He quietly bit back.

“You owe me a solid one for this” You said through your teeth. “You better start thinking of something good, golden boy”

“As far as I’m concerned, you have as much interest as me to keep this charade up” He scoffed, grabbing a glass of red wine. “So don’t act like you’re doing this out of selflessness”

“Yeah whatever” 

“Ooooohhhh mi gosh guuuuys”

You both flinched at the very high pitched voice coming to your right. You saw a girl in a violet dress almost running toward you with a wide grin on her face. You didn’t remember her name, but you knew she was a nice girl despite her tendency to get in everyone’s business. 

“Why didn’t you say you were together?” She squealed as her boyfriend trailed along, an apologetic expression on his face. “This is so amaaaazing!”

“Ah, yes” You replied awkwardly. “We just wanted to keep it private, you know?”

“Yeah I understand totally” She nodded quickly, the point of your words soaring right over her head. “I’ve always known you guys were going to end up together. You’re so meant for each other”

You wanted to cringe. That surely wasn’t the discourse anyone was holding while you were still in high school, and she surely only said that because she thought you were actually together. What do they know, anyway. 

“Uh, thanks” Dick smiled politely to hide his discomfort. “I guess it took some time, but we finally figured it out, haha”

“Oh, I forgot” She gasped, turning to her boyfriend. “Mike, this is Dick and (Y/N). They were like, THE rivals back in the days. We basically only talked about them for like, an entire school year. It’s so sad (Y/N) pushed everyone away though”

You looked away as she kept babbling to her boyfriend. You knew she didn’t mean it in a harsh or mocking way, but it still stung. You wanted to tell her it hadn’t been by choice, that people deserted you and forced you into a corner, but you found yourself unable to do so. Beside, you couldn’t just let them know how much it affected you or they would prey on it all the same than in actual high school. You were so busy tuning her out that you missed the concerned glance sent in your direction. 

“Hey, it was nice to see you again” Dick shook hands with the couple, snapping you out of your head. You forced a smile and did the same. “I think we’ll go around a bit, but uh, see ya?”

“S-sure”

You gladly took this exit and walked away from the refreshment table with Dick. You could feel his questioning stare shifting on you every few seconds, but you refused to look in his direction. He didn’t have the right to be concerned, and you didn’t owe him any explanations. You lifted your head upright and followed him over to the next group of person. Naturally, by this point, everyone had gotten the word from Monica. People were either friendlier than ever with you, or gave you attitude about it, none of which you enjoyed. You mostly nodded and smiled, barely paying attention to the words that were being exchanged. It was more often than not anecdotes that concerned Dick, or happened after you broke things off with most of your friends.

“It so strange to see you together” Some guy you didn’t quite remember began with a cruel smirk. “I didn’t see you as the type to hang out with losers”

You bit your cheek so hard it almost bled. You were certain that this would be the last nail to your coffin, that you’d receive the humiliation of your life. However, your fake boyfriend had another idea. 

“Still I hung out with you” The comeback came so fast it almost gave you a whiplash. Silence settled over the group, their baffled stares directed to a very self satisfied Dick Grayson. “Hey, remember when you hung upside down from the climbing ropes in gym class and threw up all over yourself from up there?”

Your hand involuntarily flew to your mouth to hide the drop of your jaw. 

A wave of uncomfortable laughs made its way around the circle, as nobody had enough guts to confront Dick about it. And you had a feeling he knew that; he knew they would still try to suck up to him even ten years later and fully abused this privilege.

For you.

Without waiting any longer, you were gently dragged away from the group. You were still processing what had just happened and didn’t realize you were talked to. You shook your head slightly to get out of your daze and frowned.

“Uh?”

“I asked you if you were okay” He repeated softly.

“Y-yeah” You stuttered. “I guess I’m the one who owe you one now”

“Don’t mention it” He tried a small smile. “Those people need some reality checks sometimes”

“I don’t know why I even came to this stupid reunion” You mumbled, glancing back at where the group had stood earlier. Most of the people had gone away by now, only remaining the guy Dick had all but obliterated and some girl seemingly comforting him. “It was a bad idea”

He didn’t speak right away, he instead did a visual sweep of the room, then at the back door of the gymnasium and at the crown again. “Hey, have you ever gotten on the roof of the academy?”

“... No” Your eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Come on” He hooked his arm through yours and pulled you with him to the back door. You ended up in a staircase you didn’t know existed and began climbing up. You didn’t know how, but Dick easily bypassed the lock without the key, opening the door to the roof. You stepped out a took a deep breath, glad you could escape the crowd of people you didn’t like downstairs. The sky was clouded and it smelled like rain was coming.

“So” You began as you turned to face him. “How did you out of all people found out about this secret passage? This isn’t very much golden-y of you”

“Oh, if only you knew” He chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I found the staircase by accident in senior year one time I was trying to hide away from Monica and her gang of demons”

You snorted.

“I don’t know how you did it” He hummed, looking up at the sky.

“Did what?”

“Kept yourself together while I was being, well, a total dick” He precised.

“Ah” You gave him a sad smile. “The first social rule you learn when you’re born rich, is that you rarely ever make real friends. You mostly only keep people around temporarily for your own gain, then they’re gone. It was hard, but I had expected it”

“Still, you handled it way better than I did” His eyes trailed down the roof and stopped on you. “I wasn’t prepared for everything that came with hanging with rich kids”

“It’s an art, isn’t it?” You teased. “Fake friends are hard to manage, especially the kind that comes here. If you’re not careful they’ll eat you alive”

“Yeah, I understood that pretty quickly” He sighed. You nodded slowly, warming up your arms with your hand. The night air was cold, and the wind didn’t make it better. 

“If it could make you feel better” You paused, regretting your words as soon as they came but unable to stop them. “I think you’ve been my only true friend in high school, for the time it lasted”

You weren’t looking to astound him, but you surely did. His whole posture changed, and his expression shifted into something you couldn’t put your finger on. You had the time to reconsider your words and ask yourself if you should leave before he gave you any reaction.

“Sorry” You mumbled. “I shouldn’t have said that”

“N-no, wait” He scurried his thoughts. “You really meant that?”

You nodded.

“I truly screwed up didn’t I?” He muttered, flinching. 

“No, I did” You sighed. “I should have just swallowed my pride and stopped caring so much about trying to be better than you” 

“But I kept pushing you” His head hung low. “I was trying so hard to get attention and validation that lost the one person that might have made high school not so terrible”

“Didn’t you get enough validation from Monica?” You raised an eyebrow playfully. “She seemed so keen on praising your every move”

“Ha” He shook his head, a small smile dancing on the corner of his lips. “I think she was praising the name Wayne more than anything”

“High school was terrible” You said as you glanced up at a bird flying higher over your head. When you looked back down, Dick had his arm outstretched and was handing you his suit jacket. You mumbled a thanks and put it on, welcoming its warmth.

“Cheers to that” 

“Oh yeah” You chuckled. “Cheers to people screwing up good things and explaining a decade later”

“(Y/N), I officially apologize for being an asshole” He declared, and you held back a grin. “Will you forgive me?”

“I officially forgive you, Dick Grayson” You replied. “Will you forgive me for being a stuck up bitch?”

“I officially forgive you, (Y/N)” He repeated with a mock solemn expression.

You held eye contact for a second before you burst with laughter. All of this anger and resentment you had carried for years was suddenly just gone. You had no idea it would be that easy to put it all behind you and find back your friend you had missed so much. You had forgotten how easy it was to laugh and kid around with him. 

“Come here” He opened his arms for a hug. As you were about to walk into his embrace, raindrops began falling. You paused for a second, just enough for the sky to open up and pour water over you.

You yelped and ran for cover back inside. Dick slammed the door behind you and put back the lock on again, then with a mischievous glint in his eyes, grabbed your wrist and pulled you with him down the stairs.

“Slow down!” You squealed, trying not to fall over in your heals. “Where are we going?”

“Take a wild guess”

He pushed open the door of the first floor, giving out on the hallways you knew too well. Most senior classrooms were around here, and on the walls, the graduating classes hung in big, golden frames. 

“The senior hall? Really?” You raised an eyebrow, but he wasn’t fazed. 

“Come on, let’s find our year” He ignored your comment as he walked further down the corridor, checking the dates on every frame. You followed him until he finally stopped on the right one. “Aw, look at our baby faces!”

You squinted your eyes at the pictures to find him. “I’m sorry to tell you, you practically look the same” 

He gasped in offense. “I believe I lost my baby cheeks since. I mean, look at my jaw”

You looked in between the picture and him a couple of times, pretending not to see it. Obviously, his face had gotten insanely handsome since you had last seen him, and that was just his face. You didn’t broach the topic of the broad shoulders and seemingly toned body. The rain had gotten through his white shirt a bit, and you prefered not to let your gaze linger there for too long,

“Mhhh” You shrugged teasingly. “I guess your hair has improved a bit”

“This is what you latched on? My hair?” He scoffed playfully before he snapped his head in your direction. “Wait, a bit?”

You laughed. “Alright alright, Grayson. I might be a bitch but I’m not a liar, you do score considerably higher overall on the looks now”

“Thank you” He smiled proudly. “You’re not too bad yourself” 

“Oh, you don’t need to flatter me” You smirked as you stepped around him to go further down the hallway. “I’m fully secure in my glow up from then to now”

“Alright, no need to get cocky” He snorted, but it wasn't mean like it used to be. It felt like the friendship you were meant to have. 

You stopped in front of the glass case displaying various achievement by seniors, the valedictorians of each years and the famous golden book, which contained the signature of every graduate of Gotham Academy since 1957. It laid open, showing the pages of the last class to leave. You felt nostalgic as you read the comments and signatures, suddenly wishing you were one of the kids who got to give and receive nice comments and share inside jokes only a select group of people would understand. Instead, you knew your name was forever scribbled in a corner ten pages back, perhaps overlapped by some bigger, flashier signature from the more popular crowd. 

“Forever the... Salt water chugging gang?” Dick read from an entry, furrowing his brows together. “I wonder what events lead to that name”

“Yikes” You grimaced. “Were we that stupid?”

“More, I think” He grinned. “Let’s find out”

Before you could ask what he meant, he got to work to disable the student proof lock and opened the glass. He did it so easily, so flawlessly, you had trouble thinking of how he learned to do all that.

“How do you know so much about picking locks?” You asked as he carefully flipped back the pages to your year. First the door to the roof, now that?

“Stick around and maybe I’ll tell you” He winked, then returned his eyes on the book. They widened. “Oh what the hell”

“What?” You peeked from around him.

“Monica really… Really left me her-her” He choked with laughter, tears brimming his eyes. “Her my--myspace handle-”

You joined him in a quiet laughter, then it grew louder as his became hysteric. He barely finished his sentence, he couldn’t even say it, and you understood why. It was positively hilarious. She really did leave her myspace handle for Dick, under his name with a little heart and her signature.

Dick sighed, his hand on his chest as he tried to catch his breath back. He then wiped his tears and shook his head. “That was good”

“One for the books, for sure” You agreed. “If she could see that, the embarrassment” 

“Come on, let’s add something for old time’s sake” He said as he pulled out a pen from his pockets. Before you could stop him, he leaned forward and began writing in a tiny free space. He then backed up, letting you read his little addition.

‘Let’s pretend I wrote that when we were seniors. To our lost and found friendship, sincerely, your favourite asshole’

Your smile widened at the message, a warm feeling sneaking up in your chest. You snatched the pen from his hand and scribbled another message in another blank space, the blue ink contrasting with the black of the markers on the page. 

‘Because it took us a decade to find out we have more in common than different after all. To you with love, your stuck up bitch’

It was your turn to step back, satisfied, and let him read your message. He chuckled as you handed him back the pen, and quietly flipped back the pages to the last class.

“Thanks” You spoke up.

“For what?”

“For giving me the chance to write something nice that I meant in there” You explained, pushing back a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Despite what I might say, it’s nice to leave a mark somewhere”

“In that case, you’re very welcome” He smiled warmly. You felt your heart skip a beat when you noticed how close from you he had gotten. From close on, you could see the different pigments in the blue of his eyes, or just how sharp his facial features actually were. It was definitive, Dick Grayson was a really handsome man.

You kind of understood now why Monica was so obsessed with him.

Suddenly, Dick perked up, his eyes set on the corner of the corridor. Quicker than you could register, he shut the glass display close and spun you against him, backing himself up into the wall. You were confused and flustered with your hands flat on his chest, but you realized soon enough the purpose of his actions. Seconds after, your old math teacher rounded up the corner. She paused at the sight of you, a frown on her face, until she recognized Dick. Her whole expression then changed.

“Mr. Grayson” She smiled politely, ignoring the position you were in. So, he had staged it up to seem like you were doing something else than vandalizing the golden book. “I believe the party is in the gymnasium”

“Sorry Ms Hess” He apologized sheepishly. “We wanted to take a little trip down memory lane”

She gave you a knowing look, but didn’t argue much. She only kept going her way like she didn't even see you. You were baffled for a second at exactly what extent people went to suck up to the Wayne name, then you remembered the position you were in. The heat crept back up in your neck, and it only became worse when Dick seemed to have no intention to move. You were too aware of his arms circling your waist and his casual leaning on the wall.

“Nice save” You breathed, your eyes going back to his. Bad idea. He had this innocent look that actually was anything but, and it made you nervous. He was the one against the wall, but it still felt like you were the one trapped. “I still have no idea how you managed that too”

“Let’s add it to the list of mysteries, shall we?”

You could have sworn his voice got deeper there. He slowly tilted his head to the side, his gaze flickering under hooded eyelids in between your eyes and your lips. He was nearly irresistible like that, practically inviting you to steal a taste, so you decided just not to resist. Tentatively, you leaned closer and slowly pressed your lips to his. They were soft and warm as they began gently moving against yours, making you feel all weird inside. On one hand, this was the man you disliked with worked passion no earlier than two hours before. But on the other hand, it felt so right.

You felt like a teenager all over again, but living the right experiences this time around. 

He pulled away, ending the kiss but still staying close. You blinked hazily, trying to chase the daze away. You could feel his hot breath on your lips, and while you were sure your thoughts should be spinning a hundred miles per hour, your head was surprisingly clear and calm. All nervousness was gone and dissipated in thin air. 

“I…” You trailed off, trying to find your tongue. “I don’t know what to say”

“Hmmm, how about...” He hummed as if he was thinking it through. “Wow Grayson, you’re so amazing and I can’t believe we did not make out sooner”

You rolled your eyes at the high pitched voice he used, then lightly slapped him on the chest. “Way to ruin the moment”

“That’s the good thing about moments though” He said, sliding a hand up your back and on your neck. “We can make more of ‘em”

He pulled you in for another kiss, which did not last as long, but definitely felt as good as the first. Perhaps that girl in the violet dress was onto something after all. 

“Smooth, Grayson” A small smile stretched on your lips when you separated. “Very smooth”

“Smooth’s my middle name”

“Uh huh” You chuckled, your eyebrows raised. “Sure”

He shook his head, a playful grin on his lips. His hand trailed from your neck down your arm and his fingers laced with yours. You glanced down at your joint hands, then up to his face. His smile was still there, but it was somewhat more toned down, more fond than its previous playful.

“Are we doing this?” He asked in a whisper. “Or should we stop before I start thinking about it too much?”

You took a deep breath at his question, not expecting it just yet. Dick was someone passionate and emotional, so it shouldn’t surprise you he was already thinking of a potential romantic relation. Everything was moving so fast, but you didn’t want to lie to yourself and say you didn’t feel anything there. Something definitely happened in between the moment he awkwardly threw his arm around you to dodge Monica and the moment he spun you against his chest. And well, one thing you clearly learned tonight was that spontaneous and not thought through decisions could pay off in a way you couldn’t even imagine. 

“I’m willing to try if you are” You finally spoke up. “I guess we’ve got nothing to lose in giving this a shot”

Relief swept across his eyes and his famous million dollars smile returned. He gave your fingers a little squeeze, seeming as happy as a child on christmas morning. 

“This is gonna be great” He muttered excitedly. “I won’t let you down again, I swear”

“You better not” You teased.

“Ohhhhhh mi goooosh!”

Both of your attention snapped at the shrilling voice interrupting you. There was the same girl from earlier, with a crowd around her that obviously contained a very pissed off Monica. You and Dick shared yet another look of incomprehension and slight panic at what she would say this time. And well, it was well justified because nothing could prepare you for her next words. 

“They’re getting engaaaaaaaaged!”

Ah hell, what did you both get into?

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Roguish Women Part 31

Summary: Kate is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 31: Kate dances again and reunites with Alfie before receiving a promising telegram. 

                       The floor looked freshly polished. Light from the floor to ceiling windows caused the hardwood to gleam. And the floor was so expansive. There was so much space with very little furniture to get in the way. It had been so long since she had space, room to move around, stretch her limbs.

            She’d been raised in the city. A poor girl in a poor neighborhood, Kate was accustomed to the claustrophobic nature of living in the heart of any city. Every day she went to her neighbor’s house and warmed up by pushing the furniture to the walls so she could have enough space to practice. Even then, she often bumped into things.

            Then she auditioned for the ballet company in a studio downtown. One with a proper barre and proper flooring. She had never danced so well.

            When she first danced on stage, it felt like the whole world was hers.

            Then the feeling was taken away and she retreated to her small spaces. A small flat in Paris. A crowded dressing room where she would stretch. The dancefloor packed with dancers and patrons. Her small flat in Birmingham, the banister used as a barre. Then finally back to Boston, ever the familiar feeling of being suffocated.

            Now, she stood in the ballroom of Arrow House. Suddenly, she was offered all this room and for a second she didn’t know how she would fill it all.

            A bit timid, Kate walked in and set her ballet shoes down on the well-kept floor. A gramophone had been brought in, at her request and was waiting in the corner by the windows.

            She went to the gramophone and found a few records piled neatly on the cabinet against the wall. She hadn’t specified exactly what music she wanted, but instead just said anything classical. Shuffling through the records, her heart soared when she landed on Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. Her neighbor would make her practice to the music nonstop, insisting Kate was destined to dance the swan’s role.

            After warming up, Kate carefully tied her shoes, the motion so familiar it was as if she never stopped dancing at all. It wasn’t particularly comfortable getting back into pointe, but she knew she needed to work through the discomfort.

            She returned to the gramophone and started the record. Although she couldn’t remember the number in full, she could pick out a few moves that she recalled. And it seemed the years of dancing at the Moulin Rouge and stretching in her little flats had paid off somewhat. She felt as flexible as she was in her prime. And she had remembered the techniques her neighbor barked at her for hours on end.

            When she felt brave enough, she tried a fouetté. It proved to be a bit too much and she stumbled on a turn. Catching herself, Kate couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at what her neighbor might say if she had been there.

            “Weak! Again! Do it right or do not do it at all!”

            Kate smiled to herself and tried again. It was still shaky, but much better than before. When she stopped, she noticed Tommy was standing in the doorway of the ballroom.

            “Oh, Tom, I thought you were out.” She felt her cheeks go a bit red as she went over to turn off the gramophone.

            “I just got back and heard music in here. I was hoping I could catch a bit of you dancing.” He walked in.

            “I’m really out of practice.” She admitted sheepishly.

            “It looked good to me.” He met her in the middle of the room.

            “That’s because you’re not a trained ballerina.” She reminded him.

            He chuckled. “Yeah, I could never do any of that.” He took her hand. “It’s been a while since I’ve danced.”

            “Did you used to?” Kate could vaguely recall a few moments when she might’ve caught Tommy dancing. For sure, it had to be with Grace. Maybe at the Derby or perhaps even their wedding, but Kate wasn’t too sure. The past seemed such a blur those days.

            “I think the only person who really got me to dance was Greta Jurossi.” He mused.

            “Who was Greta Jurossi?” Kate lifted his arm so she could do a small spin under it.

            He smiled though there was sadness in his eyes. He led her into another spin, wincing a bit at how painful the pointe shoes looked. “She was the first girl I ever loved. I lost her to consumption before I went to the war.”

            “Oh, Tommy, I’m sorry.” It was devastating to know that no matter how well Kate knew him, she still didn’t know the true root of all his pain. It could have been blamed on luck. Maybe his family just had no luck when it came to love. In a way it was hard to understand his persistence. So many times, he’d loved and lost. Yet, he continued to allow himself to explore another relationship.

            “Yeah.” He sighed. “It was a long time ago though.” As per usual, he wasn’t willing to accept sympathy. “I don’t understand how that doesn’t hurt your feet.”

            Kate smiled. “It takes a lot of practice. It’s painful at first but you learn to tolerate it. And soon you don’t feel anything.”

            Tommy nodded absent-mindedly. He had some idea of what that was like.

 ~~~~~~~~~~ 

            “Miss Lynch.” Ollie looked pleased to see the woman walking towards the bakery.

            “Hello, Ollie.” She smiled. “Alfie’s expecting me I hope.”

            “Yeah, you can go right in.” He opened the doors for her.

            Her heels attracted attention from the distillers but when they lifted their heads, they averted their eyes quickly. They would discuss the return of the American woman, but not until she was out of the room and they were absolutely sure Alfie wasn’t near either.

            Alfie smiled when Kate entered his office. “There she is.”

            “Good to see you, Alfie.” She greeted warmly.

            “London ain’t been the same without you, love.” He chuckled and sat down behind his desk after greeting her.

            Cyril trotted up to Kate when she sat too. “Hello, handsome boy,” She cooed and ruffled his ears. “I’ve missed you too, yes I have.”

            “M’glad you’re here safe and sound,” Alfie said with a rare tone of empathy and concern. “’Course no one was more worried than our dear Tommy, but I’m sure he told you that.”

            “Well, I appreciate it. I’m just glad to be home.”

            “So, everything wrapped up back there then?” Alfie posed a question that sounded innocent enough but of course, was meant to pry.

            “I’m guessing Tommy wasn’t too forthcoming on the matter.” She surmised if he was asking for the story.

            “Of course, he didn’t, you know him.”

            Kate sighed. She hadn’t exactly said out loud what specifically happened to anyone. But she trusted Alfie to accept the story for what it was. She understood Tommy had heard enough and telling him more would only further anger him and deepen his guilt.

            “He caught me talking to Tom on the telephone. He started to…he said he was going to kill me. So, I killed him before he had the chance.”

            “How did you leave the scene?” Alfie wasn’t about to clutch his pearls at what she told him. This was his job, and he could get technical about it if he wanted to. And in Kate’s case, he wanted to because he wanted to ensure what she did wouldn’t catch up to her in the future. Of course, if it did, he wouldn’t mind going to arms for her even if it meant having to work alongside Tommy.

            “I made it look like someone had killed him and kidnapped me. That’s what his men think still as far as I know. I have someone there who is going to help spread the rumor and give it some validity.”

            “Clever lass.” Alfie looked proud of her. “Good riddance to ‘im, yeah, fucking deserved it.”

            Kate didn’t look vindicated or happy with herself. “He just…” She picked at her fingernails. Alfie had been a confidante to her in the past, but she wasn’t sure how well he could help with what happened in Boston. She might’ve felt more comfortable speaking with Polly or Ada about the matter, but Tommy’s family was a tricky situation and she didn’t want to complicate things.

            Alfie picked up on her discomfort and knew there were things she hadn’t said that were on the tip of her tongue. “Whatever he did, right, it don’t take away from who you really are.”

            She shook her head. “I just…it’s affecting my relationship with Tommy because I can’t get over happened. And I can’t explain it properly to Tommy because I know he only blames himself even if it wasn’t his fault. I can’t tell him otherwise. So, I feel like, there’s nothing I can do but sit with how I feel.”

            “It don’t help that the fucker’s rotting now?” Alfie asked. Perhaps it varied, but he knew he got a satisfaction whenever he put someone who wronged them in their place. Whether it was metaphorical or Alfie really did put them six feet under.

            Kate shook her head. “I feel it’s something I can’t shake. I-I’ve gotten better about being around Tommy but when I’m with him. I still feel like people can see it on me. I know that makes no sense but people know what happened and I can only assume they can guess the outcome. It’s like they can see it written on my face or something.”

            Alfie frowned; his brow furrowed. “Is he the first man you killed?” He asked, not sure if they’d ever discussed the topic before.

             Kate’s mouth opened slightly. No more lies, there was no point to continue lying. She had come clean to Tommy. “No.” She admitted. Although her death count was very low, probably compared to the men she ran with her entire life, it was still much more than a normal woman. “It’s not about me killing him. I don’t care if people know about that. I care if people know that he-” She tilted her head to the side hoping he would pick up on her hints so she wouldn’t have to say it out loud.

            “He took advantage of you.” Alfie nodded. He could understand Tommy’s anger. Kate had become like a sister to Alfie, he thought very highly of her. And no one messed with Alfie’s family blood related or not.

            Kate wrapped her arms around herself. “You think I’ve been through enough that it wouldn’t bother me.” She tried to laugh bitterly but couldn’t force herself to.

            “Don’t say that, Katie. You can allow yourself to be hurt, right? That fucking monster hurt you and you deserve to be upset. Deserved to kill him too, so don’t ever feel guilty ‘bout that.” He reminded her. “Now, Tommy, he’ll learn to forgive himself. But don’t try to coddle ‘im. You be honest with him.”

            “I will.”           

            “Good, lass. Now, looking to the future, what’s next, aye?”

            “Well, everything’s out in the open now.” She took a deep breath. “So now I’m going to move forward.”

            “You have plans?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Good, so do I.”

~~~~~~~~~

            “Kate?” Tommy caught her coming in through the front door and passing by his study.

            “Hi.” She smiled when she saw him.

            “How was London? Alfie’s well?”

            “Yeah, it was nice to see him again.” She walked into the room to give him a kiss.

            “I’m sure he was happy to see you as well.” Tommy chuckled. “Sure, he was scrambling to make things work when you were gone. You’re crucial to his smuggling operation.”

            “I know, and I make sure he remembers.” She laughed softly, feeling a bit lighter after speaking with Alfie.

            “You’ve a telegram from London.” He sifted through the papers on his desk to hand it to her.

            “Oh, good, I’ve been expecting one.” She took it from him and scanned the typed letter with a nod. “Good.”

            Tommy sat back in his desk chair; his fingers laced over his stomach. “Good news?”

            “Yes, and it pertains to you as well.”

            He raised an eyebrow. “Aye?”

            “While you mend your relationship with your family, you should be looking for allies. Especially since Luca Changretta is still a threat you need to keep mindful of.” She started, proposing the business plan she thought of a few days earlier.

            He nodded. “Okay.” Letting her continue.

            “There’s a gang in London known as the Forty Elephants.”

            A skeptical look began to form on his face. “I’m aware…”

            “I’ve reached out to their leader, Alice. Just to meet up. I think it’s something you should consider. You’re looking for territory in London, looking for allies, and Alfie’s neutral with them.”

            Tommy’s doubt was mixed with amusement. “They’re a petty shoplifting gang.”

            “They’ve chased out four independent gangs in the West End. They were allied with Elephant and Castle but as you know, Sabini’s been getting the upper hand over them recently. I think you need to step in. Alfie’s allied with Elephant and Castle, but if you absorb them and aid the Forty Elephants, you gain control over West End and your tie with Camden Town is much stronger.”

            His mirth faded as he realized Kate was elaborating on a very solid plan. “You’re confident about this?”

            “Very.” She looked pleased that she was getting through to him.

            He smiled and shook his head with a look of awe. “God, I’ve missed your wits.” He said affectionately.

            “It’s good to be able to use my wits again.”

            He chuckled. “Alright, send a telegram back to Alice, tell her I’m willing to meet with her. You’ll be with me, of course.” He arranged. “Now, c’mere.” He grabbed her hand to pull her onto his lap so he could kiss her.

//The title IS Roguish WOMEN. So prepare yourselves my friends. For the forty elephants. 

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe

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Masterpost

PB Masterlist

[newbornwhumperfly]

the ink bled right through...

CW: allusions to attempted non-con

so i love @much-ado-about-whumping and i love their beautiful characters – Déomas and Rhys – and i love writing spinoffs of other works rather than my own stuff (hehe) so here we are!!!

you’re so inspiring & kind, Bel, so here’s A Thing insp. by your boys and your love of sartorial whump!

title from “colour me in” by damien rice

~

Déma is rumpled.

It is the first thing which catches Rhys’ eye as he stumbles upon the slighter figure in the hallway to Rhys’ office. There is at times an aura of disheveled roguery Déma has, making what Rhys would deem sloppy in another person seem dashing. Daring. Charming…like it suited him somehow.

Yet now, there is nothing of the windswept to his hair, auburn strands sticking up here and there like the mop of an unruly child, ruffled by his mother. His shirt is crumpled, creased, unevenly untucked. A button on his trousers is undone halfway up and the lacings are loosened, partially-tied, as though they had been yanked.

Furthermore, the way he darts at Rhys’ rounding the corner puts him in mind of a spooked horse. Rhys glimpses the whites of Déma’s eyes before the man crooks a smile at him. 

“Hey, Rhys. Just heading to grab a quill from your office.”

Rhys frowns.

“Are you alright, Déma?”

The smile is...wrong. He didn’t meet Rhys’ eyes and as Déma tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, Rhys sees - 

“Are you hurt?”

A scuff, berry-red, sits bright on Déma’s temple. But when Rhys goes to brush his hair back, to see, to help, Déma glides back. The whites show once more and the smile flattens, paper-thin.

“It’s nothing, mother.”

“Don’t give me that, Déma, what happened?”

Déma opens his mouth to speak and pauses. His gaze, unsmiling and skittish, darts over Rhys’ face before he shrugs into an airy reply.

“If you must know, Sir Percy and I had a...small tiff. About my...availability to his, ah,  affections. His feelings were hurt but he’ll...he’ll get over it.”

His smile broadens, razor-edged, and now, closer, Rhys sees his rosy lips are darkened. Bitten. 

Rhys’ stomach floods with ice and his hand flies to his rapier.

“Sir Percy? He, Déma, did he hurt you?”

A stupid question. Rhys’ gaze rakes over Déma again, taking the detail in with new horror. 

He imagines the man in question. Taller than Rhys, heavier, threat stocked in wide shoulders and massive arms. A brutish man. He imagines those meaty hands on Déma and the ice melts, boils, turns to anger with a dizzying speed. 

“Where is that bastard?”

He’s gritting words through his teeth, flushed, aching to fight. Déma frowns and narrows his eyes, a cloud darkening in his expression. 

“I appreciate you’re such a gentleman, Rhys, but it’s all quite in the past now. Under the bridge, if you will.”

Déma quirks his eyebrows, grins – thin, sharp, bright as foil – and tosses his head back, flicking Rhys’ concerns away like a fly and the fringe of his hair slips to veil his left eye, to hide the mark on his temple.

Rhys has the sudden thought that this was his intent.  

“Déma, this son of a bitch hurt you, you can’t just expect me to do nothing.”

He’s hot. He’s burning up. He needs to spread that fire to something else, to watch it burn, to hurt whoever saw fit to touch and take and harm because they possessed some modicum of power. 

He grips his pommel harder and harder and doesn't even realize he’s taken an urgent stride forward until Déma starts again and steps back again, putting space between himself and Rhys. The wariness which burns, bright, in Déma’s eyes makes Rhys feels scorched by it. He wants to cry but instead he widens the space by stepping back himself. 

“I’m, fuck, I’m sorry, Déma-”

“It’s fine. Just...just don’t make this-, Rhys, don’t-, just let it go. Alright?”

Rhys bites, hard, on the inside of his cheek, the throb easing the harsh thrum in his veins. His muscles, defined with swordplay and archery, clench around his hot blood, as useless in their strength as his fury-sorrow-frustration is sitting idle in his veins. He feels helplessand he hates it. He trembles with the want – the need– to help.

But…

Déma is glancing up at him through the russet locks, coy – yet his bitten lip is worried by his teeth and there’s a tension coiled through him, the coquettish brace of hands on hips failing to disguise how his slim shoulders are hefted nearly to his ears and his dark eyes are watchful, wary…a plea in the pinch between his brows.

Rhys wants to push but this isn’t about what he wants – it’s about what Déomas wants.  

He also has some sense – an instinct unique to his lover – that Déma is fragile right now and any indelicate word, any sudden touch, will make him spring, snap shut like a mousetrap. So he breathes. Releases his tension with his exhale. Unclenches his fingers from his sword-hilt, palm swirl-grooved from the carved pommel, and – slowly – reaches for Déma’s chin. Cups it, rubs the cleft with his thumb, soothes. Cradles Déma’s neck, thumb soothing there too, circling behind the ear. Tries to cool the heat of his fury to a tender warmth, to pour his desire to protect, his concern, his fondness for Déma into his touch.

“Of course, Déma. Whatever you need.”

Déma sighs and with the breath, the ribbon of tension untwists in his body. He allows himself to be soothed and Rhys knows he made the right choice. Déma’s dark eyes soften and the sharp edge of his grin has dulled when he pecks at the ball of Rhys’ thumb, nuzzling, feline and malleable.

“Thanks.”

Rhys’ heart takes its turn to clench now, like a fist behind his ribs, the muscle seizing in his chest, creeping up to his throat, on all the things he wants to say – vows, reassurances, pleas.

But all he does is pair his palms in a cradle of Déma’s face – so sharp and so soft and so precious – and swoop into a kiss.

Demá hums into Rhys’ hungry mouth and when he pulls away, a bit breathless, he’s bright again. 

“Well, speaking of water under the bridge, I’m all messy anyhow. Want to, uh, help me tidy up?”

Rhys slides his fingers through Déma’s hair, skimming his brow, kisses his mouth again, his little nose, his temple. 

“Of course, Déma.”

It will have to be enough.

For now.

~

Sir Percy was jumped. 

Or at least, that is what the chambermaid whispers to a fruit vendor, the murmured gossip snagging Déomas’ ear as he pays for a plum (and sneaks another, smaller plum for good measure). If the girl was to be believed – and she should really learn to whisper better, not that Déomas is complaining, but honestly – the knight was allegedly accosted by a masked man upon venturing home. The maid caught a glimpse of the aftermath, her master howling and cursing up a storm.

Broken fingers. Busted nose. Battered ribs. Shoulder sprained so badly it was nearly wrenched from its socket. Two black eyes and many a sore spot. He’d also, the little maid recounted with a note of glee, been kicked between the legs quite a lot. 

Déomas did not blame her one bit for her schadenfreude. Sir Percy was well-known for his wandering hands – it is good riddance they are hurting now. Some might call it poetic justice or even divine intervention.

Personally, Déomas scoffs at the notion of a deity and if there was one, they certainly seemed to possess the same biases as mere mortals by dropping further favor into the fat laps of those born favored. However, it is nice that the pervert got knocked down a peg or two.

Déomas rolls his shoulder - the bruise hidden below his shirt still sore, purple shadows lingering from the demanding clutch of meaty, mail-gloved fingers - before taking a bite of his plum.

A thought tickled at the back of his skull but it was swept aside as he wove his way between stalls, hunting and gathering remaining fruits – fresh fat berries of red and black and blue – in preparation for supper. He was baking a tart and it was going to be sumptuous and Rhys would agree.

He wasn’t baking it forRhys – Déomas loved pie. He would certainly do this all for himself, whether Rhys were involved or not. Certainly.

By the time the evening hour rolled around, a crisp, golden pastry is cooling on the sill of Rhys’ office. Déomas had charmed a flask of sherry off the cook and a sparkling compliment had left a glow to her wrinkled cheek as she thrust the bottle at him, grumbling something which sounded suspiciously like insufferable.

Rhys, however, is uncharacteristically late.

Déomas is sipping at a refill of his glass of sherry when Rhys sweeps through the door, apologizing profusely, dropping a soft kiss, another, once more to Déomas’ brow, breathlessly detailing some tale about horseshoes and cobblestones and really believingit would take an hour and Rhys is so fretful that Déomas forgives him immediately, scarcely pouting at all as he mellows under the kiss. He cannot be all that upset with anyone who says Déma so sweetly and is so very handsome.

Déomas blames the quite excellent alcohol for that thought.  

He blames the sherry further for the fact that it takes him a good while to notice that Rhys is…less than perfectly put together.

Rhys’ doublet is rumpled. A closer peek shows a seam has split along the shoulder at one spot, disrupting the perfect symmetry of stitches.

There is a spot of blood, nestled like a gem with the creamy folds of linen.

“Déma, I’m so sorry, I...I lost track of time. i had to take care of something and it got away from me.”

If Déomas were a little more sober, he might nod and smile and tell Rhys not to mention it. He really might just pull Rhys into a chair, straddle him, and kiss him senseless. But Déomas has never left anything he should leave be well enough alone and there’s a nervous weight to Rhys’ shoulders which provokes Déomas’ curiosity. 

“Bullshit.”

Rhys seems to very nearly drop his sword, setting it upon the desk with a heavy thump.

“D-Déma?-”

“Bull. Shit. What’d you do?”

Déomas is not suspicious. Nothing so childish. Nothing so jealous. He is...worried. Rhys looks heavy. A weariness lays over him - he has had to do something, something he doesn’t like, and there’s something about that which Déomas doesn’t like. Not at all. 

Rhys raises his chin, his deep, dark eyes direct and bold in the firelight.

“You won’t like it. But...if you ask me, I’ll tell you the truth.”

Déomas gazes back, just as steady, just as firm, and nods. 

Rhys sucks in his cheek, biting, he does that when he frets, and sinks into the chair beside Déomas.

“I know you told me not too...do anything. About him.”

Rhys spits the pronoun like poison, like he wants to get it out of his mouth, and Déomas doesn't ask him to clarify. He just waits, only the crackle of the blaze in the hearth disturbing the pregnant space between them. 

“I tried to make it random. Something which couldn't be tied to, to anything in particular. But I...I had to. I had to do something, Déma. Someone like him can’t just believe he can do this. To anyone. But especially...especially not to you. Not in my own home. Not ever. So I...hurt him. Nothing permanent. Less than he fucking deserves. But...something.”

He finally looks away from the dancing tongues of orange, blue, red fire to glance at Déomas. His dark face is drawn tight with uncertainty. He is resigned. Resolute. Hopeful. But there is still that familiar tenderness, a concern and a care, to be found in his expression, rolling under and over the anxiety, spilling through the cracks, filling in the blanks. Ever-present. 

“I understand if...if you’re angry with me.”

Seized but an urge, nameless as it was undeniable, Déomas surges from his chair and drags Rhys into a kiss. It is hungry, messy and missing lips for cheeks, scattered, falling again and again, one kiss becoming dozens in his need to touch, to appreciate, to...to be near Rhys, as close as he can be. 

Finally, Rhys gasps for air, weakly chuckling as he presses their brows together and Déomas sinks into his strong arms, feeling folded up and held and safe. 

“You’re a mess.”

“Hardly.”

“Hmm. For you, it’s practically a pigsty. You’re a disgrace to your class, Milord Rhys.”

The man snorts, startled into indignity, as he pulls back to smile ruefully.

“Help me to tidy up?”

Warmth pools in Déomas’ ribs. He kisses - again - Rhys’ cheeks, his eyes, his mouth. 

He’s so beautiful. So good. So...Rhys. 

Déomas never wants to leave this warm room, these warm arms, this feeling, ever again. He does not say so. Instead, he drops a fleeting, final peck to Rhys’ lips.

“Gladly.”

~

well....there we have it!!! a lil’ softness