#I simply think that this concept SLAPS alright. as if it's my fault.

[essektheylyss]

I was reminded of this fic I wrote and honestly, still bummed that no one ever noticed (or at least pointed out) that I snuck in a description of the Pietà.

It's pretty quick but it was in fact intentional.

[brownandblackpearls]

🦇𝒯he  𝒱isitor (Alucard Tepes x BlackReader) Pt.3

PART 3 SUMMARY:

You’re given a lackluster tour of Dracula’s castle that adds more questions than it answers, yet your quarters are beyond admirable and enough to forget the mysteries for just tonight. His ice is slowly melting, but not enough for you to see anything certain. To help speed things along, you decide to be a friendly guest and cook breakfast for the both of you.

─── Alucard x black female reader

─── imagery + fiction

─── explicit smut

─── Fantasy, vampires, hurt/comfort, enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, magic user, cute bats, gardening, cooking, cottagecore MC, castlecore Alucard.

☾ previous. ☾ next.

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Your host is as gracious as the circumstances allow, you begin to realize. As immense and as glorious as the few parts of the castle you’ve seen are, your host confides that they were once even grander. He speaks briefly of there being a battle of sorts. He doesn’t say when or why, despite prodding, but it helps to fill in some of the gaps you have.

Spying some of the deeper gouges and gashes in the tough stone, you can’t help but wonder exactly what he was battling.

“You won the battle, then...?” You ask.

“Something like that,” he says simply enough, but it reads rather ominously to your ears.

You pause as you follow him, trying your best not to sound too afraid. You hope no enemies from this past battle still sneak about...

“So it’s just you and I, here…?”

He turns on you slowly, and a familiar dread rises in your gut as you realize you’ve angered him once again. Unfortunately for you, you’re not sure how. His features appear natural and still, but what you are feeling under your skin hints at the truth to his demeanor. You catch a hint of fang as he speaks, and you wonder if it’s intentional.

“Yes. Does that suit your plans?”

You hesitate, unsure.

“I…’plans’? I don’t—“

“—Allow me to assist you. Silver is a trifle. Stakes are laughable. Garlic does nothing, and no holy symbol nor water—no matter what wayward priest you find to bless it—will help your cause. Sunlight is a pleasure to my skin, which heals from fire, knife wounds, and all other maladies in conception, if you even manage to pierce it. If a Belmont had trouble making me bleed, you surely will. The few things that I am susceptible to, are magic, decapitation, and stakes, but then again, who isn’t? I implore you to try though, and wish you luck. Believe me, you will need it.”

Like before, as if you’ve been transported back behind the walls of books, he is upon you, and you cannot help but tremble. The ruby red is back, flickering just behind his sunstorm eyes. You are beside yourself but you do your best to think quickly as to what nonexistent offense he’s percieved.

‘Does he think I mean to kill him? How even could he assume such a thing…? From me, of all people...?’

“I do not wish to make an attempt on your life,” you say slowly, clearly. “My magic is very poor, but not my behavior towards hosts kind enough to allow me in their homes.” You put a heavy emphasis on the ‘host’ portion, hoping to remind him of his promise from before.

“Enlighten me then,” he asks in a tone that seeks anything but enlightenment. “Why do you want to know if we are alone, if not to better plan something that would require isolation?”

You find yourself frowning.

“You…you completely misunderstand me, sir…” you begin, stepping back. “I just…I asked if we were alone because….I…I…”

Something in your face must call out to his reason, because the red drains out from his eyes and he steps away, reeling back. The grieved look returns.

“You’re afraid,” he realizes suddenly, aloud. “You want to ensure nothing else lurks in these walls.”

You nod, happy to be comprehended, for once.

“Yes,” you insist. “The damage from the battle...I see it, and I think that your foes were very strong. I only hope they were all defeated and that it is just you and I here, alone, sir—er, Alucard.”

He nods, looking somewhat embarrassed now.

“It is only us, in these walls.”

You sigh happily, glad to have your fears discarded. The castle was still scary and intimidating of course, as large as it was. It felt as though something had to be tiptoeing somewhere around in the fortress, yet...he would know the place better than you, wouldn’t he...? And if he says its just you two, then hopefully that is so.

“Good,” you sigh. 

He makes no move at the sound of his name in your mouth, but he does think on your words before bowing his head ever so lightly.

“I apologize,” he admits. “I keep...jumping to conclusions. I made you fret after giving my word. Forgive me.”

You watch him with pleasant surprise, the corner of your mouth quirking up. 

So there were manners somewhere in there.

“You’re forgiven. I’m sure you must have had a rough go of assassins, being who you are and all.”

“I’ve had my share,” he admits, before turning to advance through the corridor. You don’t have time to think about his ‘share’, trying to keep up. You know he can move far faster than he is showing now, and you appreciate the effort he makes to go at a human pace so that you may follow closely behind. 

Deep down, you are still worried about what lays in the castle. You do feel safer, knowing something supernatural like him is at your side, and vowed to make sure no harm befalls you.

“Well,” you continue conversationally, trailing after him, “thank you for soothing my concerns. I feel all the safer for it.””

“...Odd,” he comments. “Hm?”

“You, feeling safer alone in Dracula’s castle, with a dhampir.”

You chuckle.

“I suppose it is odd when you put it that way. Just work on that temper of yours, and I’ll really be right as rain!” The jest is funny enough for you, but it doesn’t land so well with your present company.

He scowls, but the real heat is gone. Energized from knowing he is bound by promise and that there are no others here, you feel bold enough to place an assuring hand on his arm. 

He feels strong and solid, like stone. He stiffens before pulling away, peering down at you.

You try your best not to look too hurt. You smile assuringly instead.

“Believe me, Alucard. I’m not here to try and do you in. I mean, look at me! You think I’m foolish enough to attempt such a thing on you when I could hardly handle that crowd of ruffians outside?”

You laugh then, slapping a hand on your leg. It is the bare one from the rip in your dress, and the smack is much louder than you anticipate. It’s enough to silence you into meek embarrassment.

Alucard simply watches you before turning around and leading you on.

You follow him silently now, and you quickly find that the tour is rather lacking. He says little about the winding halls you are led through, and you can’t help but wonder the stories of each hallway, of each room. Will you ever learn of them?

The place is monstrous, and so the soles of your feet are a bit sore by the time you reach what Alucard regards as your quarters.

“You will stay here,” he gestures past a large emblemed door into a wide room. 

You peer inside, finding a beautifully canopied bed, heavy curtains attached to what you can only assume is a gigantic window. There is a large bookcase, a fireplace, an armchair, a desk, and a small door leading into another room. 

“That is your bathing room,” he notes.

When you stare at him curiously, he explains.

“My father possessed immense technological advancements,” he says quickly, as if he’s explained it several times before. Perhaps he has.

‘So his father is Dracula,’ you think. ‘But the stories of Dracula were much more…gruesome and cruel. If this is his son...this man is certainly scary when roused, but…’

His deep voice breaks you out of your reverie.

“The washing room has a basin called a ‘tub’. There is also a bidet with a smaller basin called a toilet. No need for outhouses or bringing up jugs of water here. We have plumbing.”

Now, you’re utterly confused.

Alucard sighs.

“Just…follow me. I’ll show you.”

You do just that and watch, engrossed, as your host thoroughly lays out and points to every faucet, knob, and all of their uses. Before long, you ascend from a common traveling woman to an expert in an alternate world knowledgeable on things such as ‘plumbing’.

You beam at the tub and sink, too giddy with joy to hide it. You bounce a little, your hands drawing to your chest excitedly.

Alucard levels a raised brow at you, pausing.

“...Are you alright?”

You nod happily, twirling in the bathroom to face him.

“This place is incredible! Plumbing! Who would’ve thought? There was almost something like this I saw over the Eastern seas, but the people there called them…acq..acqueducts! They were these large beams that delivered their water…oh, but no matter! My hair! Goodness, it will be leagues easier…”

Alucard glances at your crown of curled, kinky locks before refocusing on you.

“How did you manage, before?”

“Oh, ponds. Streams. Rivers. The seaside. That sort of thing,” you say absently. “The chill of the water did wonders for my mane, but I felt like an icicle the entire time. And you say I can have heated, freshwater through these devices? I can’t lie, I’m ecstatic!”

Alucard nods shortly at that, watching you curiously, but seemingly unable to share your interest in the fixtures. Perhaps you’re more of an interest for him at this point than the plumbing. You eyeball his own healthy mane and assume he’s long been used to such luxuries.

“Oh, but…can I wash my garbs in the tub, too?”

Alucard tilts his head at that before realization sparks in his eyes.

“No. No, you’ll wear something else. That’s fairly ruined.”

You silently leave out the part that it is partially his fault, but he seems to catch on anyway.

“I…” he tries stiffly. “I apologize again. For before.”

“Oh?” You respond innocently. “For what? Scaring me? Yelling at me? Threatening my life? Tripping me?”

He sinks a little lower with each act. 

“All of it.”

“Oh! Well, then you’re forgiven. As much as I appreciate the apology, I have a feeling that this ‘tub’ will more than make up for it.”

Alucard seems to relax at that, showing you the cabinets with everything you’ll need.

“I’ll…” he trails off. “I’ll find you some clothing.”

He turns to leave, but you reach out to gently grip the tuft of white blouse peeking out from his sleeve. He turns, watching you sharply. 

He does not pull away, though. You call it progress.

“Alucard,” you say. “Thank you for your hospitality. Sincerely.”

He looks to the floor instead of your eyes—as if he’s afraid of what he’ll find there—before gently pulling away and wordlessly leaving the room.

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You are lucky enough to find interesting soaps and good-smelling candles before working the bath. With some maneuvering and much delight, you are able to conjure bubbles through use of items you’ve scavenged from the cabinets. You find washcloths, sponges, brushes, and an assortment of other things.

You want to wait for your host to return first, but as the minutes continue to pass you realize you need to take advantage of the hot water before it cools.

You shed your clothes, undo your hair, and step into the water-filled basin.

“God…” you whisper, goosebumps rising on your skin.

It feels incredible.

You sink into the water, a smile on your face. You haven’t felt something this good since traveling to hot springs in your more daring adventures. Back then, you had to evade the cultist locals for a hint of heated water. This was so different, as it was your own personal hot spring whenever you desired!

You sink deeper into the water for a bit before beginning to scrub and lather your journey off of you. You decide to empty and fill the tub once more, just because you can, and bathe a little more before feeling pristine to your liking.

Stepping out, you massage in some leftover body oil from your pack. You clean the basin before peeking out into your room.

There is no one present, but a new, soft nightdress lays comfortably on the chair. Your fireplace is even lit.

You smile to yourself as you step out and lift the nightdress, assessing it.

“So his bark is louder than his bite,” you decide aloud.

You change swiftly, and despite being in such an strange situation, once in the massive bed, you find sleep has come right on your heels. Your eyes almost slide shut until you hear a knock at your door.

You open your eyes and slip out of bed. You push open your door—which has a heavy lock, you now realize—to see Alucard, in low lantern light, gazing back at you.

“I trust you found everything,” he says, rather than asks. You hear the question for what it is.

“Yes,” you smile. “Thank you.”

He considers your expression for a long moment before nodding his affirmation.

“Hm. Very well. There is a lock on the door of your room…if that’s any consolation to any fears you may have. Feel free to use it. Good night then,” he says, turning to leave.

“Alucard?” You call.

When he waits for you without turning to face you, you speak.

“Where will you be staying?”

‘If I need you,’ you think. 

You soon realize that this may become a situation where Alucard hears something in your speech that is not really there. With a solemn look, and the absence of an anger just as disturbing as its presence, he points to a door just down the hall from you. You would be pleased if not for the expression on his face.

“Just there,” he says. 

You realize that due to the two misunderstandings being him assuming you want to kill him, that this is likely what this third time revolves around. 

“Alucard,” you try, “I don’t intend to condescend, but you must know, I only ask for my own concern. I’m happier to know that my host is nearby. I meant no ill will by it. I’d be a poor assassin, remember?”

“Yes,” he answers quietly, as if he really is just recalling it. “I remember.”

“You’d hear me before I even entered, I bet!”

“I would.”

“So there is nothing to worry about…right…?”

His stiff shoulders finally seem to relax an inch. 

“I suppose. In any case…You are not to enter my domain, under any circumstances, outside of imminent danger. It would be…unwise of you.”

You nod, unsure of what exactly he means but positive he that he does mean what he says.

“I will see you in the morning...?” 

He pauses at that, looking somewhat bewildered. 

“I…yes, you will.”

“Alright!” You nod, pleased. “Good night then.”

Closing the door, you turn to the large, firelit room and beam.

It is a princess’s quarters…no, a queen’s! You will live lavish while you’re here, it seems.

You lay on the soft mattress under the thick covers, knowing pleasure you’ve never felt before until sleep takes you gently into the night.

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When you wake, it is before the sun has fully broken into the sky. Pretty blues and pinks spill across the sky outside your window, so different from the cold colors of the day before. Rising in your nightgown, you spy a dress on the chair of your room. Alucard must have entered in your sleep. Had you locked the door...? You cannot recall. Under normal circumstances, traveling on the road, you would have never forgotten such a thing as utilizing a lock. For some reason, perhaps last night you felt you didn’t need to. 

You absently palm your neck for pinpricks of the vampiric sort, and find nothing.

‘Good enough for me, then.’

The dress lays before you, waiting

It is different, without any tears, and deep in its color. You pause before adorning it, turning this way and that in the looking glass before attempting to do something with your hair. 

‘I look rather stunning in this. Why does he have such nice women's clothing lying about, I wonder...?’

Once complete, you decide to do something as equally nice for your host as this dress was for you.

“Breakfast! I’ll make us breakfast. Dhampirs can eat food, right…? Now, if only I could find the kitchen…”

You spy your basket by the door. Another gift from your late-night visitor.

You pick up your newly returned basket from the room’s entrance, flipping over the blanket to spy your stolen vegetables still intact. 

You leave your rooms with a smile that slowly falls.

‘He said not to disturb him…perhaps I can find the kitchens myself? They must be on the first level, maybe the underground chambers, if anything. That’s how all castles are. I’d better start now if I hope to finish in time.’

You’re certain you will get lost, but you have a feeling that your host can easily find you again.

You pause, realizing something.

‘I hope I don’t find bottles of blood or something lying around…or something else’

On that sobering thought, you strap your dagger’s hilt tighter to your thigh. Alucard said you were both alone, but it couldn’t hurt to be vigilant.

You venture out and do your best to recreate the inverse of Alucard’s path to the great hall. After several turns and rerouting, you finally begin to recognize the way back to the grand hall. It takes far longer than you anticipated, and your soles begin to complain a little once you find the grand staircase.

With some exploration on the main floor, you finally come across a door leading into what appears to be a small kitchen. The floors are clean as are the pots and pans hanging from their hooks on the walls. You spy plenty of utensils, knives, and what appears to be another basin...plumbing. You will ask Alucard the name later.

You set down the basket, pleased to have reached your goal, and get to work.

“Can’t have just a vegetable scramble. He’s a literal dhampir, and I could use some protein.”

You can't find any aprons about, and so you wrap what looks to be a tablecloth around your pretty dress. No reason to ruin it with the trials of breakfast.

You hunt for eggs, meat, nuts, and anything of the protein type. After some pillaging, you are able to find all three and get to work. The eggs are small, and the meat is fox, rabbit, and fish instead of the typical villager fare of cows and pigs, but you make it work. You wash your hands and begin to carve out fillets, prep vegetables from your basket, and luck upon some spices. You search for oil, but can only find butter, and so you do your best with it.

Soon enough, the kitchen begins to fill with the scents and fumes of a bountiful breakfast. You plate the spiced eggs, the braised meat, the sautéed vegetables, and fill a pitcher with water. You think about finding the secret garden nearby once more to perhaps make juice from berries and fruits, or even preserve. Turning to the wood table, you set everything down before finding your final item.

The loaf of bread is well hidden, but not well enough. It is a little stale, but not enough to discourage. You claim it and cut it before setting it out on the table as well.

Turning to wash your hands one final time, you are unsurprised to find Alucard stalking in the doorway of the kitchen when you turn back around.

“What are you doing...?” he grouses, clearly just having recently awoken.

“Cooking us breakfast,” you sass, “you’re welcome, by the way. Oh, uh...you can eat food, right...?”

Alucard’s sleepy demeanor slowly fades as he nods, his interest growing as the smells of food clearly begin to assault him and cause wonders for his mood.

“Well?” You say, undoing the tablecloth-apron and taking a seat for yourself. “What are you waiting for? Sit with me, let’s eat!”

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AN: Do not under any circumstances copy, repost, or edit any of my work. If you see someone do so, please let me know.

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[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Chapter One. Welcome to Sweetland

the scene is set in 1956, a young man moved to Hollywood to follow his dreams of becoming an actor. But with little money and a struggle to keep his apartment, he is approached by a man who offers him a job at Sweetland

a/n: THE FIRST CHAPTER IS FINALLY HERE! this story is loosely based on the Netflix series ‘Hollywood’. just the general concept of it and ofc adding my own twist to it. I hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing it! happy reading <3

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The familiar click of his boots onto the tiled shiny floor is what Harry looked forward to all the time.

He found motivation as he walked down the hall as he passed by locals pacing back and forth with their fingernails in their mouths or sitting on chairs against the wall as they nervously chatted with one another. Some of the girls glanced at him seductively as he walked, making his confidence shoot up a bit. Harry took each and every single one of them in; telling himself to not let their anxiousness get the better of him because he was better than them, he was more good looking than them, and he was a better actor than them. At least that’s what his self affirmations tell himself every morning.

The bright light shining from above him as he takes each step made him feel like a spotlight. He put on his best game face and walked confidently as he wore a white crisp button down shirt with a yellow polka vest, blue flared jeans, and red boots. It was his lucky outfit and one of his favorites. It was a stuffy outfit for the hot weather in Hollywood, but he needed to look dashing. Plus they were all a steal in the clearance section!

“Harry! Over here!” He saw Mikey waving over at him at the end of the hall. Harry waved back at him as he hurriedly walked towards him.

“Hey, Mikey. How is it in there?” He asked as they tried peeking into the room everyone has been waiting to have a chance to get into.

“Man, it’s crazy. Everyone in there is so intimidating!” Mikey shook his head as he looked up at Harry. He was a tad bit shorter than Harry, but he was humorous and the camera always loved a funny person.

Harry and Mikey met in front of the gates at Paramount Studios almost a year ago. They were both standing right next to each other amongst the hundreds of people waving their hands up in the air as they tried to get the attention of the casting directors. But in the midst of it all the chaos, Harry had accidentally elbowed Mikey’s head, which caused him to get infuriated and led them to a fight.

“Think you can go fucking around elbowing people, huh?” Failed punches were being thrown at one another as they tackled each other to the ground; a crowd had circled around him. Despite Mikey’s height, he was underestimated. He was feisty, tough and can pretty much handle anyone.

But that fight had been broken up by security, and somehow and some way, the casting directors found that entertaining and picked the both of them to be an extra. They were both ecstatic, not knowing a so-called fist fight would lead them to being an extra on set. Of course, it was hard to work with one another after the fight they had caused. But after throwing looks at one another, they figured it was best to get along and work together.

And they found out they had many things in common and respected each other’s dislikes. Since then, they’ve been by each other’s side.

“I’m sure you did great. Don’t sweat it,” Harry patted Mikey’s shoulder, reassuring him from his audition.

“Oh, oh! They’re coming! Get ready!”

Two older women walked out of the doors of the room that was frightening but exhilarating all at once. Everyone rushed to the entrance of the door, putting on their best smiles and mystery looks as the two women looked around to find their perfect face. Harry stood still, not putting on his best look as a way to tell them he was trying too hard.

“Alright, here’s how this is going to work,” one of the women screamed out to the eager crowd. She was tough as she wore an all black dress that stopped below her knees and 2 inch heels. Her expression was stern, giving everyone a hard look as they listened to her. “I’m going to choose two of you to walk inside with us and you will be given a chance to audition. We want to see the best actors and actresses to give us the performance of a lifetime.”

“Everyone ready?” The other woman in purple said and everyone nodded their heads. “Please get into two lines on both sides of the wall.” The crowd did so. Harry being the first one in the line since Mikey saved him a spot. Nervous was an understatement for Harry. He wanted to be chosen and this can finally be the start of the career he’s been dreaming of.

The two women glanced at everyone as they walked between the lines, looking at everyone’s smiles and anxious looks. Everyone’s heads turned as they walked passed by them, frowns present on their faces as they didn’t get chosen.

After a few minutes, Harry heard their heels clicking onto the floor as they were walking back. He turned his head and saw a girl walking behind them as she beamed in excitement. A small frown was placed on his face, feeling as his hopes have been crushed.

Suddenly, he felt their presence stop walking and stopped in front of him. His head immediately was brought back up to look at them, frown was replaced by a small smile.

“You’re good looking,” the lady in black said with no emotion. Her stare was intimidating, making Harry stutter.

“T-Thank you,” he cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he said again more clearly.

“Can you smile for me?” She asked. Harry gave her his best smile. The one that wasn’t too bright nor the one that wasn’t too small. But he gave his charming smile, making his dimples pop out. She looked at him for a few seconds as she stared into his eyes before she said, “Okay, come with me.” And she walked off into the room followed by the other director and the girl that they picked.

Harry couldn’t believe that they actually picked him. He turned towards Mikey and he was smiling so big, giving him a big thumbs up and a pat on his shoulder.

“Go get ‘em kid!” He lightly pushed him towards the door as Harry felt his feet were stuck to the ground from the shock.

Entering the room, he was met by the eyes of three other producers sitting at a long table. They had their coffees in front of them and a notepad with a pen, looking through a list of actors and actresses they’ve come across.

“Okay, just wait here as we prepare. Names?” the lady in purple positioned Harry and the other girl in the center of the room in front of the table of people that would dictate his future as she got their names before walking back to the table.

The room was freezing and Harry shook as he got shivers down his spine.

“Nervous?” The girl said next to him.

“Yeah, a bit. You?”

“Eh, I’m doing okay. Not my first audition,” she said in a bragging tone, and Harry just simply nodded. She was a small petite girl with long hair as she wore a pink pleated skirt with a pink striped top. Her hair was short as it curled up towards the end of it, giving her a more girly and preppy look. “I’m Brandy,” she introduced herself.

“Harry.” They softly and quickly shook hands.

“Say, Harry, how about we have a little fun after this audition?” Harry looked down at her and she gave him a brow raise with a teasing smirk.

“Uh-” Harry hesitated and luckily, they were interrupted.

“Okay, you two. Since we planned on not doing any scripts for this audition, you’re going to need to improvise. Show us your true and natural talent. I’ll set the scene: you two are at a party and are about to break up. Okay? Ready? Action!” One of the producers told them hurriedly, giving them no time to take it all in.

Harry and Brandy turned towards each other, and Harry’s face was immediately met with the palm of Brandy’s hand, giving him a hard and loud slap to his cheek. Harry’s head whipped to the side, covering the sting with his hand.

“What the fuck?” Harry asked in shock.

“How dare you break up with me! You don’t get to break up with me,” Brandy’s eyes were immediately filled with tears, and Harry wondered how she was so quick to make herself cry like that.

“I-I’m sorry. But it’s not my fault I caught you fucking some other guy!” Harry retorted back. Brandy’s tears had fallen onto her face, and Harry’s face remained annoyed.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. It didn’t mean anything. I promise I won’t do it again,” she grabbed his hands as she pleaded.

“No,” Harry started softly, feeling sympathy for his co-partner. “This has to end. It’s for the best-”

“CUT!” One of the men screamed out, interrupting their scene.

“Great, great job guys. That’s all we need. Brandy, come see us. Harry, you’re free to go.”

Brandy squealed beside him, walking towards the table to possibly talk about a contract and a part in a film while Harry slowly walked back to the entrance that was now his exit, feeling completely gutted. He thought he did fairly well; if they had given them more time, he would’ve been able to continue on and show them what they’re really missing. But that was their decision, and Harry had no choice but to try again the next time.

As he exited the room, he was immediately met by Mikey waiting for him with a big and hopeful smile.

“Well? Got that contract you wanted?” He asked.

Harry shook his head in defeat. “Gonna try again the next time. Didn’t fully get to show my talent y’know?” He said as the two friends walked towards the exit of the building. Mikey put his arm around Harry’s body, hand resting on top of his shoulder.

“There will be plenty of more auditions to come. Don’t worry,” Mikey reassured his friend as they walked out the door to be met with the bright shining light of the California sun.

“S’alright. Gotta keep goin’,” Harry said, convincing himself not to give up as he places a cigarette between his lips and lighting it up.

“That’s the spirit! But listen, I gotta get going. The family needs me, but I’ll see you at the next audition! Be there!” Mikey bid him goodbye as he was walking away from him. Harry waved at him, watching his friend walk home to his family.

And Harry needed a drink.

He found himself at a bar close to his apartment. It was midday so no one was really at the bar except about four other people, chatting and playing pool. He was drinking whiskey, downing glass after glass, needing something stronger than a beer as he had a tough and long day.

“Long day, kid?” A man with a full head of grey hair and grey mustache asked. He was very attractive for an old man. Looked very classy and proper, probably had a good job because he just looked fucking rich; while Harry is struggling to find a stable job to pay off his bills.

Harry scoffed, “You have no idea.” He called for the bartender, getting his attention. “Can I get another one of these please?” The bartender sighed, shaking to himself while getting Harry another drink; his fifth one in just 10 minutes. Once the bartender set his drink down, Harry simply picked it up and threw it down his throat as if it was mouthwash.

“What’s got you like this?” The man asked curiously. Harry turned towards him, giving him a look up and down. He’s usually very polite with meeting new people and is usually shy, but with the alcohol in his system on top of the horrible day he had, it was like he was a different person. He’s usually the soft and cuddly type when he’s buzzed or drunk, but again, he just had a bad day.

“Ya wanna know?” He didn’t wait for the man’s answer, but he nodded anyway. “Well, for starters, got a fuckin’ audition earlier because y’know, that’s what I do. I’m an actor. Anyways, I do the audition that they picked me out of, like, 50 people, and this girl who bragged about having plenty of auditions. And when we start, not even 5 minutes as we start actin’, they stop us! Thought they were lovin’ what we were doin’ that’s why they stopped us, but she told that Brandy girl to meet them after and dismissed me, like for fuck sakes!” Harry was seething as he was telling the story, and practically everyone was listening in since he was talking so loudly.

“Sorry about that, kid. But that’s what you do huh? You act?” The man asked, placing his cigar in his mouth.

“Yeah. Tryin’ to make a fuckin’ living and I’ve been struggling keeping my apartment,” he rolled his eyes, trying to remember the next due date was for his rent and electricity bill.

“It’s a tough world out there. But hey, what do you say you work for me?” The man offered and Harry’s brows furrowed.

“Don’t even know your name.”

“Well if you must know, like you didn’t just tell me your whole life story, I’m Daren,” he offered a hand to shake, and Harry takes it.

“Harry. So what exactly do you do?” Harry wondered.

“I work for a candy store,” he simply stated.

“A candy store…” Harry repeated and Daren nodded. “What the fuck am I gonna do at a candy store?”

“Simple. It’s like a self-serve candy store, but my workers serve them instead. Just grab a bag and they tell you what they want, and you get it. Simple as that,” he explained. “You’re an attractive man! Got the face and everything, and considering you’re tall, bet you’re packing down there too,” Daren said nonchalantly.

“Are you offering me a job or you’re gonna compliment my cock?” He wondered why the sudden mention of his cock came to play, but brushed it off. Harry hadn’t realized that he would be working at a candy store when he moved to Hollywood. He had big dreams, and he wanted to follow his dreams by getting as many auditions as he can and be in front of the camera, not work in candyland.

“Both. Just think about it. You’d be making a lot of money working there—hell of a lot more than minimum wage. And I’m talking about starting at $30 for an entire day. You can’t pass that deal up! And you just said it yourself that you can’t afford to keep your apartment. I mean, let’s face it. When are you going to get another audition? You’ve already gotten rejected from the one today!” Harry was breathing out of his nose, practically huffing at him as Daren mentioned the rejection. He knew that what Daren said was right, but Harry was hard headed and didn’t want to believe him.

“Sorry, mate,” he stood from his chair, grabbing his wallet from his back pocket as he set out a $10 bill on the counter. “Thank, but no thanks,” he told Daren, pride getting in the way.

“Well, my offer is still on the table. I’m located on Sunset, so you know where to find me once you get what I said through your ass,” he said louder than usual as Harry was walking away with no look back, exiting the bar and walking home.

When he reached the front of his door, he was met by paper taped to it that read ��LATE RENT SECOND NOTICE’. Harry sighed, ripping the paper off the door before unlocking it and heading inside. He briskly threw the notice on the table and he sat down on his couch, rolling out his neck and closed his eyes for a moment. His shoulder and neck felt tight—his overall body felt tense, like he couldn’t relax for a tad bit.

He was stressed. The dream of becoming an actor was made when he was a teenager. From auditioning for one of his school plays in comprehensive school and getting the lead role, he felt the rush of being on stage when he was only sixteen. From then on, he wanted to take that dream to the next step, and he was talking about being on camera, on billboard, stepping on stage when he wins and collecting his Oscar. Harry reaches for big dreams, and he was determined to make his dreams come true.

In his state of pondering about lifelong dreams of making it in the industry, the electricity had gone out. It was like he was so in his head about becoming a famous actor that he felt like he was in the clouds and nothing was limiting him, but the harsh reality of his source of light going out had brought him back to the ground.

A groan from Harry’s mouth was heard between the walls of his tiny apartment, frustrated that he can’t seem to find money just to save him from getting evicted from his home. He took a deep breath as his body was stretched across the couch, hands on his face as he debated what to do.

He thought about getting more auditions, which he will eventually try for because again, that was his lifelong dream, but how many auditions did he have to do for anyone to see him other than a pretty face. Let’s face it, Harry knew he was attractive and having a nice face helped him get auditions, although he’s only had two in his lifetime. But he wanted to be seen more than that. He wanted to be seen for his talent, his ability to act, and being the person the camera loves.

Harry then thought about the offer Daren from the bar made him. It was quite random how someone badly wanted him to work for some candy shop when there are so many people who are looking for a side job. Of course he didn’t want to work there, but he did remember Daren saying that he was willing to pay a lot. But who in the world has that kind of money to pay $30 for working at a simple candy store?

Hell if Harry knew, but he knew that he needed to make some sacrifices.

You were sat in the beige booth across from your two friends, waiting on your food as Alice was reapplying her lip gloss and Frances was talking to you nonstop about a boy she had met from class.

It was your usual Friday afternoon as the three of you met up at Mel’s Drive In to have weekly breakfast for lunches. It was a ritual ever since you were in high school.

Having met them your freshman year of high school when you three were in the same dance class, you girls were inseparable. You’ve been through breakups, crushes, and gossip with them; and they were like your sisters. Sisters who talk about anything and everything with no limits or shame.

And now you three were dance teachers at the academy school you all danced at. It honestly worked very well; when a dancer hits eighteen, they graduate and that’s their farewell from growing up and continuously dancing at the studio. A year before you three graduated from college, your ballet instructor, Sally, had told you three that her and the rest of the staff always loved your techniques and stability. And you were all very excited for the journey.

“I swear to god, I was gonna jump him right then and there,” Frances said waving her hand as if she was fanning herself.

“Wait, he did what now?” Alice asked, pausing from putting on her lip gloss. She did it all the time, but you had no idea as to why she was doing that when you were about to eat. But Alice is Alice.

“If you can take one second not eating your lip gloss, then you would have heard me,” Frances turned to her right to face Alice, a frustrated look on her face. It was the same old annoyed look Frances gave Alice and to others, it looked like she was about to start a fight, but to the three of you, it was just pure bickering and humorously messing with each other.

“Anyways, tell us more,” you said, reaching over to Frances, and she excitedly turned back towards you, happy someone was paying attention.

“He just kept flirting with me! Kept saying I looked so pretty and said he wanted to take me out, which I think he’s gonna ask me out the next time I see him because he kept hinting at it, and I’m just so excited! Although I wasn’t sure if I wanted to date another dancer, let alone a coworker, but I don’t care anymore!” She squealed in excitement, and told her how happy you were for her.

“What about you?” Alice asked suddenly.

“What about me?” You asked back, leaning back on the leather cushion. Before Alice was about to answer, their food had arrived and was placed in front of you,

“Any guys or girls you’ve been into lately?” You thought about it, and shook your head truthfully as you dug into your pancakes. “C’mon! There isn’t anyone at all?” You shook your head again, taking a bite. “Not even that Tyler guy?” You rolled your eyes, waiting to swallow your bite before you answered.

“No, no, and no. I don’t know. It’s hard for me to get out there y’know?” You slightly frowned, realizing that you had been missing the affection and attention you wanted.

“Oh, whatever! You’re just saying because you’re too shy and proper to say that you haven’t been fucked in forever,” Frances said too loudly for your liking. You looked around your table to see if anyone had any lingering eyes on the three of you, but everyone seemed to be only paying attention to their business. “Face it, the last time you’ve been touched was Chris—and hell if he did the job.”

“And we know you can get out there. You’re pretty, smart, funny, and you’re a rich bitch! So many guys go after you in the passing!” Alice added.

“Yeah, only cause they want to get to my dad, remember?” You raised your eyebrows at them, and they went silent for a bit, remembering that ordeal.

“Well, those fuckers don’t know what they’re missing,” Frances said back.

“Since when have you used such language?” You faked a dramatic gasp, teasing her as she laughed and rolled her eyes.

“Please, ever since you told us about your kinkful night of sex that one time our freshman year of college, knew you weren’t an angel yourself,” Frances smirked, and a gasp was heard from Alice.

“Oh god, I remember that! It was with that junior Lance Mills! I want to hear that story over again. It was like listening to a sex film.” Alice put her hands under her chin as they both eagerly waited for you to tell the story again.

“Maybe next time. Y’know when we’re alone and I’m not about to devour this pancake,” you promised and they nodded excitedly.

The three of you ate your food as Johnny Cash was playing from the jukebox. You and Frances were minding your own businesses, thinking the subject prior was far gone and over with until Alice spoke up again.

“Y’know…I know something that’ll help you with the whole…” she started waving her hand around you like she was casting a spell, and you were utterly confused.

Your brows furrowed, “With what?”

“Your whole dry spell of not being able to get some,” her brows raised, and your mouth slightly opened.

“I am not on a dry spell!” You exclaimed, crossing your arms once you were finished with your pancakes, but felt satisfied, knowing Mel’s pancakes were the best you’ve ever had.

“Please. It’s been what? A year since you’ve had sex? Unacceptable.” You rolled your eyes at Frances’ statement. “You have everything you want except a good orgasm. Can you believe that?” She turned her head towards Alice in disbelief; the two of them shaking their heads.

“Ugh! I don’t need to have sex to complete my life! I am perfectly fine with pleasing myself and not having someone do it for me, and I am perfectly fine with not having sex… at the moment,” you added the last part in case the universe had some weird way of working, making your dry spell even longer. Frances and Alice laughed, knowing you all too well that you loved having sex and someone to hook up with.

It was like you were contradicting yourself in your head--thinking you were okay with yourself, but wanting someone else. But you honestly were fine with doing the job yourself--you didn’t mind that at the very least, but it is always nice to have someone to do it for you. What you were thinking was: yes, you could do it and reach an orgasm yourself, but you didn’t need someone to do it for you. If someone comes your way and helps you out, great. If someone doesn’t, also great, you’d do it yourself.

“Anyways, as I was saying,” Alice spoke up. “One of the girls was talking about some shop that always has hot guys working there and they’re always hiring hot guys.”

Frances turned her body towards her, “Ooh, tell me more.”

“You are about to get asked out by some other guy. Don’t be greedy, this is for her!” You chuckled at them as they fought like a married couple. “Well, she was saying how she met this one guy there and they fucked in her car! She would not stop talking about orgasm after orgasm! And she also said all the other workers there are hot too, so you can go down there and check it out for yourself,” Alice explained. “You can just do it once too--get all that stress out of your system.”

You thought about how long your dry spell has been going for. It hasn’t been too long that you were deprived from having good sex, and you would love to look at handsome men even if that means you wouldn’t get any since you were tired of looking at the boys in your class as you thought none of them were really all that attractive to you. So, you nodded in agreement and Alice perked up.

“Where is this shop at?” You asked curiously.

“It’s a candy shop on sunset. But you need a code to get in.”

You confusingly asked, “A code? Why would you need a code?”

“Don’t know. Probably for some identity reason. But they also serve celebrities as well, so that could possibly be a reason,” Alice said.

“Okay…What’s the code?” You asked slowly.

Frances squealed, “You’re really gonna do this?” You shrugged your shoulders but nodded your head.

“So, the code?” You asked Alice again to see her and Frances smirking at one another. Probably because you agreed to doing this and admitting that you wanted to get laid.

“Cloud nine.”

Harry found himself in front of ‘Sweetland’ at 12 in the afternoon on Sunday.

After much debate, he realized he really needed the money when he was in the midst of a shower and the water had turned off. Just as he got soap in his eyes, he figured he would put his pride aside and take up on Daren’s offer. Because what could be so bad working at a candy store? People have to start somewhere in their life in order to make it.

He had a night’s long of pondering, telling himself that an audition is not just going to pop up out of nowhere, but he couldn’t lose hope just yet. And besides, he probably wouldn’t even get paid that much if he wasn’t under a contract with a big agency. So the candy shop would have to do it for now.

Walking through the door, he was met with a few pairs of eyes from men who perked up thinking he was a customer, but quickly put their heads down.

“Ah, so I see you decided to work for me,” Daren said as he noticed Harry at the entrance of the shop, a smirk placed on his face.

“Yeah. Just really need the money,” Harry replied honestly.

“Well, welcome to your first day, boy! Here is your uniform, restrooms are over there,” Daren handed Harry clothes and slightly pushed towards the restroom to get changed.

Once he finished changing and got out of the restroom, he noticed he was matching with the other workers; wearing a blue sparkly blouse with a pussybow and white trousers. He had to admit that he loved the outfit, but wished everyone had different outfits so he could stand out.

“Everyone! This is Harry. He will be joining our team and will be along with this journey of ours.” He noticed Daren smirk as he introduced him to everyone with a hand on his shoulder. There were about five other guys working at the shop that day, and everyone waved, greeting him.

Everyone working were guys and Harry noticed how good looking everyone was, and there were no women working at all, which confused him at the very least.

“Alright, so your job is to basically serve customers. Easy as that. You’ll just grab a bag,” Daren does so as he speaks, “and whatever you want, just fill it up to however they desire. Simple.” Harry didn’t miss his sexual innuendo, even if it was innocent as candy, but he chuckled, amusing Daren. “Got it?”

“Yeah. Seems pretty easy-”

“That’s the spirit! But first, I’m going to need you to stock some of the candy containers in the back,” Daren grabbed a couple of empty jars that were out on display, and Harry nodded as he followed Daren to the back where all the candy was stocked in large containers. “These have the labels on them, so just fill them with the right ones.”

“Alright,” Harry responded, and Daren pats his back before walking towards the exit. “Hey, Daren.” He stopped him before he was able to walk out. He turned around and Harry gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks. Y’know, for the job. I really mean it.”

Daren smiled back, “Don’t thank me yet, kid.” And with that, he walked out as Harry filled the empty containers with more candy.

After 30 minutes of filling jars and sweeping the floor, Daren called him to the front of the store. It was more busy than usual but enough for all the workers to be occupied.

“Ready for your first customer?” Harry perked up, and nodded his head eagerly as he was finally going to help a customer out and serve them. “There she is. Remember to smile, and if they say cloud nine, do as they say.”

“Wait, what’s cloud-”

“Go get ‘em.” With a slight push, Harry was lurched forward, walking towards the woman waiting by the door.

“Hello, how can I help you?” Harry asked with a shy smile on his face.

“Just a bag of candy, please,” the lady said as she looked around the store.

“Sure thing,” Harry grabbed a candy bag and followed her around the store as he waited for her to tell her what kind of candy she wanted.

“Can you put these in there?” She said, pointing to the container of gumballs and Harry grabbed the metal spoon, filling it before dropping it in the bag. “That’s all I want,” she said, and Harry ties the bag up.

“Okay. Anything else?” He asked.

“Yeah. Cloud nine?” Harry was utterly confused when she said the phrase; he didn’t know what to do at this point because Daren didn’t take the time to explain it to him.

The woman slapped a few quarters onto the counter before grabbing the bag of gumballs from Harry’s hands and walking out of the store. He turned around and looked at Daren raising two thumbs up at him and Harry was quick to follow her out.

“I’m sorry. I’m not sure what you want me to do,” he said, still confused on what he was supposed to do. She stopped walking, stopping right in front of her white car, and turned around.

“I want you to fuck me,” she said straightforwardly, and Harry’s eyes widened. The woman was about in her forties with a diamond ring on her finger, flashing in his face from how bright the diamond is and how it clashes with the sun.

“P-Pardon?” He stuttered as his face turned red. The lady’s brows raised and Harry could tell that she was getting frustrated mentally and sexually.

“Isn’t that what you guys do? Fuck your customers when they want to?” She crossed her arms impatiently, and Harry’s mouth opened slightly but nothing came out from it, truly speechless at her words.

“I-I’m sorry…I don’t-”

“Ugh, never mind. Forget it,” the lady scoffed and walked to the driver side of her car and got in quickly before driving away, leaving Harry with an unsatisfied customer, a frustrated him, and possibly an angry boss.

With slow steps, Harry walked towards the entrance as he gave himself a 30 second pep talk before he had to go through the door, hoping he wouldn’t get fired on his first day.

He opened the door, the bell from above ringing from the movement of the door. The first thing that his eyes landed on was Daren’s confused face, and Harry frowned, nerves boiling through his veins.

“The fuck you still doing here?” Daren asked with his hands up. Harry scratched the back of his neck, feeling his blouse getting too tight for his own good.

“I, uh-”

“I sure hope to god you’re about to say you made her orgasm in two minutes. And you better not that you lasted two minutes,” his hands are now on his hips, waiting for his answer. “Well? Gonna give me a straight answer or are you gonna just stand there?” Harry’s brows furrowed in anger; from frustration and desperation of making money.

“You never told me what to fuckin’ do. Just expected me to hear a phrase and fuck someone? A little heads up would’ve been nice!” He snapped, his voice louder than he would like, but figured it’s necessary.

“Thought you already figured it out when I was talking about your cock back at the bar!” Daren retorted back, grabbing Harry’s arm and bringing him to the back, away from the other workers.

Harry yanked his arm back when they were both away from the rest, “The least you could’ve done was tell me straight up.”

“I didn’t think you’d care! You’re a good looking guy that probably wants to get laid. When was the last time you fucked someone anyways?” Harry looked at him and rolled his eyes, not answering his question. “I’m assuming it’s been a while…” he paused, eyes widened as if he made a realization. “Unless you’re a virgin because I’m not sure this is the right job for you—well, it might be depending how you look at it-”

“Yes, it’s been a while and no, I’m not a virgin. Not like there’s anything wrong with that,” Harry interrupted just to simply shut him up.

“Look kid, I’m sorry I wasn’t more clear on what this job offered, that was my fault,” Daren placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, how about the rest of the day, you just work with the candy. You don’t have to deal with customers today, and you can decide if you still want to work here. If you do, then you start tomorrow— actually start tomorrow this time. How does that sound?” Harry took a deep breath and nodded slowly, figuring he has about 3 hours to decide what he wants to do. “Great. There’s a few containers that need restocking and some unboxing in the back.”

Harry got to work immediately, but he took his time to make time somehow go by faster as he was surrounded by sour candies, chocolate, and bubblegum. And he was also thinking on how this whole thing will end up. It was only his first day so he wouldn’t get paid, but if Daren was true to his word when he said he would start out at $40, he may as well end up staying here. Because where else is he going to get that type of money in one day? No where. He’d have to work at least two weeks to get a whole $30 when he can make so much more if he were to stay at Sweetland.

Time did go by faster as his brain was scrambled with thought and his mouth felt like he’s eaten every piece of candy. He threw out all the boxes and stored the candy in its right container before washing his hands to see the rest of the workers cleaning up. He wanted to help out, even though he’s done enough, and grabbed a rag before wiping down the counter and the spaces between the candy containers.

“Hey,” Harry said to the guy, whose name tag read Pete, as he was sweeping the floor of sugar and dropped candy.

Pete looked up and smiled, “How did you like your first day?”

“It was unexpected.” Harry chuckled.

“It is, isn’t it?” Pete smiled, and Harry nodded.

“That’s how he dropped the bomb on all of us. Didn’t say much of what we do besides what we do with the actual candy, but just threw us into the pack of wolves and fed us alive.”

“That’s…descriptive.” Pete laughed. “I mean, is it worth it?”

“If you’re desperate for money, then yeah. The reason why we all stayed was mainly because of that, but we’ve grown to like it a lot, and that’s not because we get to have sex everyday. But because Daren is actually really fun and cool, and we’ve all made friends with each other. It’s an experience, for sure.” Harry nodded, taking everything in. He knew his answer before talking to Pete, but he just needed some reassurance, guidance.

Daren came to view when Harry looked up, walking towards him, obviously for one reason. “So, boy, what do you say?”

Harry thought for the last time. Quickly going over his decisions, and having a full on debate in his head as he imagined pros and cons lists. The pros out weighted the cons, and there was really no question about it. The pros were: lots of money, sex, nice coworkers, and good candy. The cons list was: nothing.

He didn’t think he’d end up like this. Working for a fake candy store, but in the sense it’s not fake because it sells real candy, and getting sex this way.

But again, he needed to make sacrifices in order to keep his place and practically live.

“I’ll stay.”

Your muscles were strained from the amount of hours you were on your feet--more like years since you’ve been dancing ever since you were little. From teaching your students a plie to releve to saute; always making sure yours and their toes are always pointed. Your muscles were aching and you were tired, physically and mentally.

It wasn’t like you didn’t love to dance--you’ve been doing it for years, hell, you were teaching it. But it was the long hours during the day where some days, you had to teach and rehearse for at least 12 hours a day. So, needless to say, you were exhausted.

But that wasn’t even the worst of them all. At the end of the day, you had to go home and deal with your family. They were supportive, but not in the sense where you want them to be. They were supportive in what they want for you, not what you want for yourself. It was something you had to live with--you don’t remember a time you got what you wanted, except when you suggested you wanted to do dance when you were younger.

It didn’t take long for them to agree for them to sign you up for dance classes, but only signing you up for classical ballet.

“Sweetheart, it’s just more elegant. You’ll learn how to be more flexible and fix that god awful posture of yours,” your mother had said when you suggested you wanted to do something like tap dance. You had nodded your seven-year-old head as you sulked back to your room, figuring ballet was better than nothing when you asked to take some dance classes.

Your mother, Jane, wasn’t always so harsh with you. In fact, her attitude towards you had gotten better as you got older, but that was probably because she found your dad, Richard, cheating on her with another woman. And she thought you didn’t know a thing, hence why her attitude changed towards you, but you knew everything.

But you were all Jane had, and it was when you were sixteen, she suggested a girls day with you; talking to you with a soft tone and not making any remarks towards how you look. But you were happy for the change; it bettered and strengthened your relationship with your mother and she sides with you with almost everything once your father comes at you for something so little.

Walking through the large doors of your home, you threw your bags on the floor, the heaviness was making your back and shoulders hurt even more, immediately walking towards the kitchen as you stretched out your limbs and joints.

It was almost 10 p.m and you realized you had so many things to do still. Between coming up with a routine and some new ways to warm up, you were filled with overwhelmingness, and you just wanted to have a decent meal in silence.

But sadly, you didn’t get that--either of that. Instead of silence, laughs were heard from the dining room, and once you walked into the room to see what all the noise was about, the thought of a decent meal was lost from your appetite at the sight in front of you.

It was your father laughing with your ex boyfriend, Chris. The sight was unbearable and you wanted to run out of the room, but first, you wanted to know what the actual fuck is Chris doing here.

“Ah, darling, so glad you could join us. Was just having a laugh here with your dear boyfriend, Chris,” Richard had said once he saw you, calming down from his laughter. Chris was looking at you with a smile, and you never wanted to slap a smile off someone’s face before him.

“Ex boyfriend,” you said clearly, making sure they both heard you right.

“Oh, tomato, tomahto. Same shit. Won’t be long until you get back together with him,” Richard chuckled, thinking he was right. But he was far from right; you have no plans whatsoever getting back together with him nor do you have plans ever associating yourself with him, so the fact that he’s in your house right now is just boiling your blood.

“Father, Chris and I are never getting back together. I mean it,” you tell your father, but looking at Chris as you say so, hoping to get your words engrained to his skull. But all Chris did was smirk at like you were wrong, but you rolled your eyes, not amusing him.

“Sure, whatever you say. How about you sit and join us.” Richard points his hands towards the empty chair next to Chris.

“I’d rather not,” you sighed.

“Not asking you, darling,” Richard gives you a disapproving look as if he’s trying not to lash out in front of his ‘perfect’ guest like he’s a ‘perfect’ host.

“Well, I’m telling you I don’t want to. Besides, I have schoolwork to do.” You told him sternly, completely over this conversation. As you were about to walk away, his voice raised slightly.

“Darling. Sit. Now,” he demanded. He was angry, that’s for sure, and the vein on his forehead looked like it was about to pop from you not cooperating.

Giving him the point, you sighed as you took a seat next to Chris, but left a chair between you two, not wanting to be anywhere close to him. You wouldn’t be in this position if you hadn’t walked in on your father and Chris being buddies, and you wished that you had just ignored the laughter because your night would’ve been much nicer than sitting at a table with the two of them together.

But you were rather proud of yourself for sticking up for yourself. Some parents may call it talking back, but that was nowhere near talking back. You grew a thick skin around him throughout the years. From the countless times of crying in your bedroom because Richard would call you names or tell you that you weren’t good enough, you had to grow that kind of toughness around him. Sometimes you had to fight back for yourself; you weren’t going to let him or anyone walk all over you. Seeing your father do that to your mother just broke your heart, but you told yourself that no one will ever treat you like that.

“So, Chris and I were talking about your futures together-”

You raised a hand up only for it to be smacked onto the table causing the table to make a loud sound. “What did I just say? I am never going to have a future with him.”

“Not after what he planned for us,” Chris pitched in.

“Well, you can shove that plan up your ass if you think I’m gonna let you plan my future!” You said, turning towards your father. You were on the edge of your seat, close to getting up and raising your voice even louder or completely walking out of the room as anger flushed through you.

“Do not speak to me that way! Who gave you the right to even use those words?” Richard’s eyes furrowed as he pointed a finger at you, obviously angry, and not giving a fuck if he had a guest hear his anger.

“Gave me the right? You did when you decided to be an absolute dick to mom and I!” You were fully standing up, hands planted on the table.

“Language! You don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“But I do, don’t I? Right, father? I know everything,” you gave him a challenging look, which he was not amused with.

“I’m gonna give you five seconds-”

“Don’t bother,” you scooted your chair back, and walked out of the dining room and up the stairs. You just wanted a peaceful and relaxing night, but you got the exact opposite.

You were headed up the stairs, quickly, furious and frustrated at your father. Stomps on the hard floor were heard that you didn’t even hear the footsteps following behind you.

“Hey,” the voice you recognized was Chris’, and you felt your arm slightly being yanked by him, causing you to stop walking. You turned around, immediately taking your arm out of his hold.

“Don’t touch me or ever grab me like that,” you said, and he thinks it’s the most serious tone he’s ever heard out of you.

“Chill, I was gonna see if you were okay after that-”

“Well, don’t! I never asked for you to check up on me, and stop grabbing me like that--I’ve told you a million times. It’s annoying, not cute,” you rolled your eyes. You were right in front of your bedroom door and you just wanted to go inside and be over with the day, but of course, Chris keeps talking.

“Would you stop being a bitch for once? I don’t understand why we can’t be civil with each other, I’m working with your father,” he said, voice slightly raised, but you don’t let it get to you.

“The only reason why I can’t be civil with you is because I can’t stand being around you. And guess who messed that up? You did,” you pointed at him. “You’re just like him. Can’t have one person satisfy you. Always wanna sleep around and think you’re forgiven,” you shook your head in disbelief, trying not to let the tears cloud your eyes.

It wasn’t like you were still hung up on the situation, but the thought of being that heartbroken again did not make you feel the best. The feeling of your heart sinking into your stomach was something you did not want to feel again. And you didn’t think you were wrong for wanting to protect your fragile heart. You were strong on the outside; not taking shit from anyone, and you think that’s a strong quality to have. But deep down, you still had your guard up. Physically, you were fine connecting with people, but emotionally, it was necessary to protect yourself.

“C’mon, baby, it was one time,” you cringed at the name.

“First, don’t call me baby. I mean it. Second, one time was enough. I’ve witnessed it--still witnessing it with my mother staying with my father when he cheats time and time again. That ‘one time’ shouldn’t have even happened. Now, leave me alone and get out of my house.” You walked into your room, but before you were about to shut the door, he placed a hand on it, stopping you from closing it.

“Y’know, maybe we can just have a little fun. Hate fuck all the anger out of each other. Maybe it’ll help get that stick out of your ass,” he smirked and you rolled your eyes in disgust and annoyance.

“Don’t worry, I have better places to go other than you.”

With that you slammed the door in his face, knowing exactly where you could go to destress.

just a glimpse of what their lives look like! CHAPTER TWO IS COMING ON AUGUST 21!

taglist babies: @froggystyles @outofsstyles @whoschantel @4592222 @groovybaybee @bfharry @wellbafineline @tfonty @bfilipa52 @afire-hes @thorsangel @brrilliant-harry @apples2019

[zenalios]

Untamed Seas; 4 - Enalios, β

Index (R18+)

Summary

Amphitrite, sea goddess, and daughter of Nereus, is less than willing to marry an Olympian, let alone Poseidon, the very god who overthrew her father. She does so nevertheless, in a desperate move to protect her sisters following Nereus’ absence.

The marriage is beneficial to them both: Poseidon gains legitimacy through a union with her, effectively solidifying his control over the seas, and Amphitrite guarantees her sisters' safety, along with all prestige due her status as queen.

The catch? She finds his domineering personality utterly insufferable, and he, the most fearsome god, resents being stuffed into an unwelcome marriage.

They have all eternity to make it work.

TW // Abuse - Verbal and Physical ; Abusive Relationship ; Forced Marriage

A sharp slap echoed through the kitchen.

“What were you thinking?!”

The Nereid held a hand to her smarting cheek as her mother continued to lecture her. Escaping Zeus had seemed like a great idea until her sisters had returned in hysterics, crying about how the new king of the gods took Erato away before everyone’s eyes. Amphitrite could not bring herself to look at them now since it actually was her fault for walking right into Zeus’s trap. But she hadn’t told them exactly why she had run from the Olympian. 

She had only confessed to offending Zeus, and to being the reason Erato was missing —at which Doris grew even more agitated since she had been led to understand that Zeus would not attend.  

“His attendance may have been pure coincidence altogether, how you even managed to offend him is beyond me,” Doris ranted at her and to her family and nobody else in particular, throwing up her hands as she spoke. “Gaia above, Nereus, just look at the sort of degenerate your daughter has become!” 

A tongue clicked at that.

“Doris,” Tethys, their grandmother, chided. “I’m sure there must be some reason behind it.” 

The titaness turned to Amphitrite, her algae veil gently floating along in the sea nymph’s direction. “Isn’t there, Phi?”

Amphitrite bowed her head to stare at the smooth pebbles lining the floor under her feet, “I—” 

She truly did not know what to say. Perhaps if it had been her grandmother alone who had asked, she might have told her the truth already: that Zeus asked her to marry Poseidon, her response being to run away. Her vision blurred. It was no use, her mother would not listen anyways. 

As if evidencing that fact, a sharp pain suddenly pulled at the back of her skull. Amphitrite yelped, clawing at the hands that had once nurtured her, this time begging for nothing but reprieve. “Give me back my daughter!” Doris seethed.

“Enough!” Tethys roared, rising to her feet, the force of her voice causing Doris to let go. Amphitrite landed on her hands and knees. At once, she scrambled out of her mother’s reach. 

Tethys snapped, “She is your daughter too.”

The Oceanid scoffed, “She’s not. She’s his daughter, not mine.” 

Amphitrite pressed the edge of her palm to her scalp in an attempt to ease the throbbing. Her first time hearing those words had been painful; after that she had simply learnt to accept the fact that her mother coped with grief through denial and anger, all of which she took out on her eldest daughter. It was futile to argue with Doris, anyways —there was no point trying to convince a lunatic who didn’t want to believe who was and who wasn’t her child.

At that moment, someone burst into the cave.

It was one of Tethys’s sons, Amnisos, who lived on Crete where Mt. Zas had been. “Yes, brother?” Doris snapped at the river god, ignoring the stare her own mother gave her. “Have you come to bring more ill-tidings to us now?” 

Amnisos was bent over at the hips, gasping for breath. 

“No,” He wheezed, “No, I brought Zeus himself.”

At once a mass of grey hair arose from its place in the corner. The progenitor of all rivers had been sitting quietly, listening and watching all as he always did. “Zeus has come for an apology?”

“I’m not sure.” Amnisos straightened himself. “But he did ask to speak with her before he returns Erato.”

Doris practically jumped for joy upon hearing the name. Now Amphitrite found herself being yanked from her place on the floor, and towards the entrance, the older nymph’s nails biting into her arm. 

“Then go already, you wretched thing!” Doris cried, throwing Amphitrite forward into her uncle’s arms, who then steadied her. 

Amphitrite nodded gratefully at him. As if I am not also your daughter, Amphitrite thought bitterly. Then again, it would be hypocritical to say that only Doris favoured Erato above all —so did Amphitrite herself, though she doubted Doris would ever let her near the child again.

“Amphitrite.” Her uncle nudged his head at the entrance he had come from. Amphitrite swallowed visibly. “Alright.”

Zeus was seated in a nearby glade she and her sisters had used to conjure up stories for their uncles and aunts. Her heart sank. “Oh, hello, Phi.” Amphitrite cringed at the strange look her uncle gave her —now that was valid cause for concern, she thought sardonically. Outside of family, only lovers used that name, of which Zeus was as of yet neither, and would never be the latter.

“Now, where was I…?” The god trailed off, then slapped his thigh as if he had only just remembered what he’d come here for. “Ah, yes!”

Such a sinister smile. Amphitrite turned away, wishing to see no more of it than she already had at last night’s party. “You. Marry. Poseidon. When?” Zeus dropped each word carefully, as though she were but a child incapable of understanding concepts beyond her years. She tightened her jaw, feeling the shame burn through her cheeks. Behind her, Amnisos sputtered.

Amphitrite grit her teeth. “If my father were here—" She began, only to find herself cut off by the king of the gods. “Yes, yes,” One hand waved dismissively at her; the other prodded at his ear, wriggling his pinky around the hole, and sniffing at the appendage after. Amphitrite wrinkled her nose in disgust. “If your father were here, he would give you a choice.”

“But!” Zeus exclaimed suddenly, leaning towards her as one would when speaking to a child, “Nereus isn’t here anymore, is he?” And whose fault is that?! The young goddess’ fingers curled and uncurled with sheer agony at the way Zeus so casually spoke of her father, his flippant expression causing even Amnisos to look indignant.

“Listen up, Am-phi-tri-te.”

Against her better judgement and folded arms, a heavy shudder tore through her body at the croaking voice that placed emphasis on each syllable of her name, so ominous it seemed to violate her very spirit and leave a crawling sensation behind on her skin. “There are fifty of you Nereids.” He pointed at her. 

“You are the oldest, but you’re not the prettiest.” 

Her breath halted. Subconsciously, her gaze flickered towards her uncle, where it was met with an equally dumbfounded countenance, if not more so. The Nereid twitched ever so slightly. After everything he’d spouted from his filthy mouth, she did not want to guess what he would say next. Zeus chortled. “Your sister Erato, on the other hand.” 

A hand stroked at his short white beard. “She’s very lovely —and so young too.”

“You bastard!” Amphitrite snarled, aggravated enough to lunge at Zeus the same way she had done the night before. Only this time, she was filled with murderous intent. She had moved no further than a step before a pair of arms wound themselves about her, “Amphitrite!” 

She faintly registered her uncle’s voice —it was him who held her back, but before she knew it, she had brought her foot down upon his. 

“Your Majesty!” His pained voice betrayed a cry of reproach.

Zeus waved his hand at the river god. “Shut up before I remove you from my council." 

“Maybe I should make it a point to attend her consummation.” Zeus added, a vicious smile growing again on his features. “Maybe my brother will even let me participate.” 

To add insult to injury, he slowly began to form a little circle with his left thumb and index finger, drawing a finger through—

“I’ll do it.”

Amphitrite choked out then. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling hot tears spill down her cheeks, blazing a trail of molten gold over her cheeks, her sobs hidden only because she had bit down on her lip to keep them in. Her uncle’s arms around her did nothing for the situation; in fact, it made things worse, now that there was one more person to witness her suffering. She flinched at the large hand that clamped down on her shoulder.

“Good.” Zeus said all too cheerfully. “It will be in a weeks’ time then. My wife and sisters will make preparations on your behalf.” The hand tightened briefly. “And I will be coming personally to fetch you, Phi.”

She collapsed to the ground after he left.

Not even the great river father could help her this time. Amphitrite was born of the sea, and now she would belong to the sea, only its depths were no longer on her side.

3 - Enalios, α ; 5 - Shadowed

[smol-and-trashy]

Sylvix Vore Fic (FE3H)

A/N: This is probably mega OOC, but I fell in love with both Sylvain and Felix during my first playthrough of FE3H and been itching for a vore fic featuring them. It’s probably more accurate to read this as platonic due to my inability to write anything remotely romantic... This was also inspired by @sinfromlokislair‘s Sylvix fic, theirs is a lot better tbh haha.. Vomit warning, so if that makes you squeemish, please leave now! Enjoy :) 

_____________________

Felix growled as he shoves off the giant finger, wishing this oaf wasn’t the first person who offered help. While Sylvain would disagree, it wasn’t entirely his fault that he was in this position. The blast of magic was directed towards their professor and Felix, standing behind her, found himself foolishly taking the hit. He expected a lot of things to happen, well aware of the effects of taking a direct hit to dark magic, but being reduced to the size of a field mouse was not one of them. Now, he has to pay the price of the curse. 

Felix pinched the bridge of his nose, he expected something like this happening to Sylvain, the reckless skirt-chaser, but himself? He was usually more collect in battle. He sighs, regret still weighing heavily over him, but he had more pressing matters to tend to, specifically regarding the man before him. He looks up: Sylvain Jose Gautier loomed over Felix in all his self-proclaimed glory, Felix swallows. Goddess, he was gargantuan, his chest taking up most of Felix’s line of view and he has to crank his neck far back just to peer up in his friend’s eyes and feel like an equal in conversation. Bubbles of fear and humiliation rose up inside the smaller, but he represses those feelings, swiftly replacing them with indignation. “For the last time, Sylvain, quit poking me.” “Sorry, sorry, it’s just that you’re so tiny and cute! I really can’t help myself.” Sylvain laughs a little, folding both hands behind his head. “Insatiable, as always,” Felix mutters under his breath. If Sylvain heard, he gave no indication, instead, grabbing Felix without a single warning. As the tree-sized fingers close around his waist, Felix soon finds himself face-to-face with his ginormous friend; bemused, Sylvain simply watches as the smaller struggles in his grip. “Let me go, Sylvain!” he squawks, trying to pry those fingers off him. Really, the man had no concept of personal space. “Mm, I could, but,” Sylvain leans forward with his elbow still on the table, drawing closer to Felix. Fruitlessly trying to maneuver his legs and kick at Sylvain’s too-close face, he stops; scowling as he notices his own reflection in those amber eyes, and at last, Sylvain pulls back. “This is all too much fun!” he winks. “Hilarious, now let me down, you oaf.” Felix says flatly, “I would rather dual the boar than being stuck here with you.” “Really? Because most ladies would love to be in your shoes, Fe.” Felix squirmed a little in the redhead’s grip, not fancying himself so high. “Let them. At least you would finally leave me alone.” Sylvain leans on his arm, a cocky grin adorning his lips, “Ouch, don’t be like that! Least now, you can’t refuse to get dinner with me.” The raven-head rolls his eyes at the reminder of Sylvain’s countless dinner invitations, most of which he had turned down in favor of training. “Forcing me to eat with you, would you stoop so low?” Sylvain says nothing, only flashing a sly smirk and hoists Felix a few inches higher, just above his nose. Felix unwittingly tenses up, he's much too high and Sylvain was taking this joke further than he'd like. He curses while digging his nails into his friend's skin, trying to force himself to be lowered. Yet, the other refuses to budge. He can't tell if Sylvain thought of this as one big joke or if he was really this careless. "You incorrigible---" "Aw, c'mon Fe, you’re just cute enough to eat!” Sylvain interrupts smugly, dangling Felix over his wide-open mouth; He wasn’t seriously going to drop him, but it was all too easy to get a rise out of him. Felix’s heart pounds furiously against his chest as he’s forced to peer into Sylvain’s awaiting maw. Sharp white teeth that could easily bite him in half taunt him while that wet tongue twitches and Felix doesn’t even want to think what is beyond that dark, pulsing throat. It was repulsive, everything. Despite himself, Felix couldn’t stop staring. Is this what prey feel when they’re about to be eaten? Strangely enamored? He frowns, choosing not to dwell on it, and instead, averting his eyes to the door, he was no damsel, but a piece of him wishes for Ingrid or even the boar to pay Sylvain an unexpected visit. Relief sweeps through him as those lips close, “Tell me, do you have a death wish, Sylvain?” he growls, but the older man’s lips quirk upwards, evidently amused. As Sylvain opens his mouth to make a quip—- “Sylvain!” Ingrid barges into the room, and in an instant, he loses his grip on Felix, barely able to make out the tiny man’s objections as he falls straight towards the gaping throat. Sylvain’s jaws snap shut, and the obtrusion at the back of his throat causes him to swallow, purely out of reflex. Fuck. All traces of coy playfulness disappear instantly as he feels the tiny body make its way down his throat. He sits there, in cold shock, as Felix drops into his stomach. The heavy, humid air hits him, and Felix lies absolutely still, paralyzed with disbelief. This can’t be real. That half-wit did not just swallow me. Felix’s heart pounds in his ears as he wipes the slime off his face. The chamber wasn’t as dark as he anticipated, in fact, he could see the wrinkled pinkish walls fairly well. His own stomach turns as thick chyme splashes on him, and before he’s able to gain some semblance of footing, he’s thrown at the opposing wall. More liquid soaks him, and Felix thrashes aimlessly, the only coherent thought going through his mind is ‘I need to get out of here.’ He rushes to the nearest wall, cursing at Sylvain for taking his swords beforehand, and punches at the wall. No reaction. Not a wince, not a protest to stop, nothing. The chamber groans and convulses, but there’s no direct response from Sylvain. Felix clenches his fist, and despite the heat, he feels an icy chill plunge into his veins; no, he must persist. He’s trained on hours end, he can make Sylvain notice him. As Felix is about to inflict another punch to the walls, he hears a familiar voice around him, pushing down the squicked feeling of hearing his childhood friend in such a ubiquitous manner, he pauses to listen. Sylvain stands up and freezes, a nervous chuckle arises from his throat, “I-Ingrid! To what do I owe the pleasure of—“ “You know how many messes of yours I had to clean up for the past week?” He blanches as Ingrid wastes no time in berating him for his less than reputable behavior, “You promised that you would cease your philandering ways, but I heard from Ashe, of all people, that you were—-“ she pauses, Sylvain was almost hunched over, sickly pale with his arms twisted around his stomach, “Are you okay? You look unwell.” At that, Sylvain straightens up, “Ah, yeah, yeah, just ate something bad earlier,” he winces as he earns a nasty kick from Felix, “nothing some rest can’t fix!” Ingrid’s concerned expression only deepens, she purses her lips, but Sylvain, armed with a charming smile, puts a hand on her shoulder, “Honestly, Ingrid, I’m fine. But it’s cute of you to get all worked up over me! Y’know, maybe a kiss on the cheek would help?” The blonde shoves his hand off, rolling her eyes, “I’m not…Take care of yourself, Sylvain,” she sighs, turning around and finally shutting the door behind her. Alone in his room, Sylvain gingerly presses a hand on his belly, earning sharp kick in retaliation. His mouth suddenly feels like it was filled with cotton, and finding himself at a rare loss of words, Sylvain racks his brain for the right thing to say, for something to say. “You alright in there?” he mentally slaps himself after the words come out of his mouth. How utterly stupid he must sound. “Am I alright in here?” Felix repeats incredulously, blood boiling with every ticking second, “Did you really just ask the man who’s stewing away in your filthy guts if he’s ‘alright in there?’ What the hell do you think?” Sylvain swallows and finally sits down on his bed, trying to control an incoming rush of vertigo. He runs a hand through his hair, slicking the ruddy strands back into place, and sighs. “You’re right, I-I’m sorry, Felix. You’re not… melting in there, are you?” His heart-rate begins to pick up, thumping wildly in his chest like a caged bird. “Oh Goddess, you need to let me know if anything is happening!” “As you should be,” Felix says while checking out his arm. His once white sleeves are stained from the juices, but he’s feeling no burning effects. Not to say the acids wouldn’t be activated when Sylvain eats something—-other than himself. “It looks like I’m fine, for now.” “Good, let’s get you out of there.” He’s met with an affirmative hum, and Sylvain plants himself on the floor, firmly pressing both hands on his stomach. Tiny fingers tap on the bottom of his belly and now wholly aware of it. The feeling is entirely alien, almost ticklish; he automatically heaves, offhandedly noting the room getting warmer as sweat gathers on his forehand. Bile creeps at the bottom of his throat, and Sylvain dry heaves once again, “C’mon…” he murmurs. His stomach groans louder, noisily protesting the shrunken being inside, and his fingers slam on the hardwood, curling instantly. As his guts twist and turn in itself, he grimaces, wishing for a drink to aid him in this uncomfortable process. Sylvain’s eyes widen as he gags, only able to retch out strands of saliva. There is a distinct lack of a certain sharp-tongued mercenary.   “No…Why didn’t it work?” he whispers, clutching at his middle. “Sylvain…” Felix’s voice is dangerously low, and Sylvain was sure that if he hadn’t removed the former’s weapons, his insides would have been lacerated mercilessly. Even though they’d been friends since childhood, even though they made a promise, there was no way Felix would let himself die such a humiliating death. Felix glares up at the tight sphincter from above, it’s much too high to force open, but maybe if Sylvain was lying down… He pauses, out of nowhere, acids begin to bubble and churn. The stomach gurgles louder, and suddenly, he’s thrown from wall-to-wall, hardly getting a chance to catch his breath. A god-awful groan resonates around him, and his head gets submerged under the liquid; everything flies by too quickly; this was it, this was how he was going to go down. He can’t breathe; one moment his lungs are filled with acids, and the next, he finds himself splayed on a squishy surface. Felix coughs and gasps for air, for a split second, he really thought he was done for. Arm slung over his head, he almost doesn’t notice the shadow looming over him or the fast pulse below, rivaling his own. He needs a good minute to recoup himself as he breathes slowly to even his heart-rate. Finally removing his arm, he looks above. Felix’s breath hitches as the thundering vibrations of Sylvain saying something reverberates through his body; nearly admonishing himself for such a pathetic reaction, he realizes the words aren’t registering. “—-about this, yeah?” Felix catches the tail-end of whatever the redhead was trying to say. “Alright.” and for the first time since this ordeal, there’s no bite behind his words, only thinly veiled exhaustion as he finds himself slumped against Sylvain’s index finger. He just wants to return to normal and forget this day ever happened.

[look-ma-im-on-tv]

It'll Be Alright

Hey @ninja-girl2846 I was your secret santa! I wrote this (admittedly kinda long but I ran with the concept) fic about all the sides getting along and getting help from Thomas. Second half is in the reblog because I have too many blocks. @sanderssidesgiftxchange

Warnings: A bit of mild self deprecation, it's hurt/comfort so there is a bit of angst, cursing at the end, destruction of items, yelling, let me know if I need to add any.

Thomas opened the fridge. He had woken up a few minutes ago, probably at two in the morning, and now he suddenly had the biggest craving for chocolate milk. That’s why he was now downstairs, after a bit of convincing himself to get out of bed.

So, that tiredness would also be why, when he heard a small yelp of surprise from the fridge, he comically tumbled to the floor.

“Thomas? You… okay?”

“Yeah, fridge. Thanks, I’m okay,” Thomas said, still only half awake and pulling himself off the floor.

“If you were Roman and it wasn’t 2:30 in the morning, I’d think that was a nickname. It’s Virgil.”

Thomas hummed in confusion and looked up. Sure enough, there was Virgil, the hood of his purple jacket pulled over his head, and he was perched up on top of the fridge looking down.

“Oh. Sorry for startling you, Virgil.”

“Well uh, I’m… sorry for near killing you.”

Thomas laughed, “It’s okay. You wanna come down from there and have some chocolate milk with me?”

“Isn’t that for little kids?”

“No.”

Virgil shrugged and climbed down. Thomas continued making his, and now Virgil’s, drinks. He turned on a dim light so he could see, and handed Virgil his cup of chocolate milk. He stopped. 

“Virgil, you’ve been crying!”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious.”

Thomas shrugged that off, “Well what’s going on then?”

Virgil didn’t answer.

The two just stood there silently for a little while. “Come over here then,” Thomas suggested, gesturing to the couch. “You don’t have to talk about it, but maybe a little company will help you feel better.”

Virgil looked like he was about to say something, but he stopped and sat on the couch, sipping his drink.

Admittedly, it was awkward. Thomas was worried about Virgil, but they both just sat there in silence. Virgil didn’t seem to want to speak up. It seemed like they were sitting there for an eternity.

That is, until Virgil finally said, “I don't know what to do, Thomas. I try being scary, but then everyone…” he trailed off. “Well, I shouldn’t act like that. But then I try being nice and you don't listen! Look, I know you don't want me to be a gloomy jerk, so-”

“Hold on, Virgil,” Thomas said. Virgil shut his mouth abruptly, looking guilty. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you - well, I did but that’s not really what I mean. I just need you to slow down a little bit. Whoever said you can’t act like yourself, Virgil?”

“No one, but ‘non-verbal communication’ exists, Thomas.”

“Fine then, what’s this non-verbal communication?”

Virgil stopped for a while, not wanting to answer that. But he figured he had to. “The others. How you act around them, how you guys treated me before I ducked, all of it. They’re… scary, I was scary, I don’t know how else to phrase it Thomas all I know is that I need to do something different. I just don’t know what.”

Thomas sat in silence. He didn’t know what to say, he hadn’t known that Virgil felt like this. None of them had realized that how they treated Janus and Remus might affect him. It made sense though, even though that made Thomas a little sad. That they acted angry towards those two just because they were all honestly scared of them… Thomas didn’t feel great.

“Virgil, you don’t have to do anything different. I… didn’t know you were affected. I mean, sure it makes sense that you would be, but I just… I guess I never thought about it that way. You can be however you want. I’ll listen to you more, but you shouldn’t have to worry about changing what you’re like for any of us.”

Virgil chewed his tongue, looking away. “I guess. And I know you say that, but they keep showing up and proving how whatever I try to do seems wrong. You listen to them more, but that doesn’t mean you don’t hate them.”

“No, Virgil, we don’t hate them and we don’t hate you. Even if you’re ‘scary,’ we know that you’re not just doing it to be an asshole or something. You… care. That’s important.” Virgil took a sip of his drink instead of responding.

“And Virgil?” Thomas said, “We don’t just tolerate you or something. You’re important, you’re our friend. So, whenever you’ve got a problem or just want to talk, you can come talk to us. You don’t have to sit on the fridge.” He smiled.

Virgil looked up, then back at his glass, thinking. He smiled, faintly but still there. “Thanks, Thomas.”

“Of course. Now, I don’t think either of us are going to be able to get back to bed-”

“Understatement. Sorry for keeping you up.”

“That’s okay. I was gonna say, how about we watch a movie?”

“Sure. But Princey’s not here, I wanna pick.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The crashing noises around Roman finally halted as he let his arms fall to his sides and his sword fall at his feet.

He was in the Imagination, his so-called home away from home. And, this time at least, the destruction he caused all around him was very intentional. He sighed, his sigh cutting into a sob at the end, and fell to his knees, tired. Roman wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt, and looked down at the dark outfit he had taken on for himself. He had decided it likely fit him better. He looked around at the broken wood and glass and other imaginary material surrounding him and frowned.

Roman had felt horrible for a while now. He saw himself as such a knight in shining armor, and when he finally realized that image had crumbled away, he was horrified at the Roman he saw beyond it. He never would’ve guessed he’d secretly been the villain in the story. His grand dreams and impulsive behavior had actually been hurting those around him, and Roman hadn’t even known.

That’s why he’d come to the Imagination. And why he had changed to a black and gold outfit. He didn’t feel he should have the bright white that so often signified good. He was so angry, at himself, at the others, he wasn’t exactly sure. And if he was going to destroy something anyways, he was going to have it be under his control this time. And in the Imagination, Roman couldn’t get hurt either.

Roman was sure that most of what had been happening for a while had been the fault of his own, but he couldn’t help but feel hurt himself. He wasn’t trying to be selfish, he told himself, but he couldn’t help but feel like he had been betrayed or even manipulated. Roman shook his head. He didn’t want to think right now. 

Roman stood himself up and brushed the dust off his clothes, not that it mattered much. With a wave of his hand, he opened a doorway to his currently unlit room in the mindspace. Stepping through, he immediately fell onto the bed. 

Which happened to be exactly when he heard a knock on the door.

Thomas called, “Roman? Are you back?”

Pausing for a beat, unsure if he wanted to respond at all, Roman replied, “Just got here.”

“Great!” Behind the door, Thomas smiled. “I was hoping you could take me to the Imagination?”

“Why?”

“For the fun of it?”

“If you wanna go to the Imagination,” Roman groaned, “I can just send you there yourself.” It felt like only more problems would come from Roman tagging along for whatever Thomas needed to do there.

“I was hoping you’d go with me. Is something wrong, Roman?”

Roman’s breath caught in his chest. Part of him was so happy that Thomas asked, the rest of him screamed not to tell him. So he simply got up, turned on the light, opened the door, and did his best to smile.

Thomas smiled, then halted. “New outfit?”

Crap. “Sure.” Oh yeah, that answer absolutely won’t make him suspicious at all. “Just.. thought I’d try something new I suppose?”

“Very new. Hardly looks like ‘you’ at all.” Thomas blinked, then his eyes opened wide in shock. “That doesn’t mean bad or anything! And I’m sure I just need to get used to the new color, if you decide to keep it. Sorry.”

Roman shrugged. “No need to apologize.” He summoned a doorway. “Let’s go.”

Thomas put a hand on Roman’s shoulder, accidentally startling him and he flinched away. “Oh, Roman, I’m sorry! I just wanted to ask, are you sure you’re okay?”

Roman looked down, then looked back up at Thomas, replying simply. “No.” And then he stepped through the door. 

“Roman!” Thomas called, entering the doorway after him. “Hold on! What’s wrong? Roman!”

He stopped dead in his tracks and shook his head. This was coming eventually, Roman needed to stop trying to avoid it. He turned around, and waved his hand to summon two chairs for him and Thomas, and with his other hand, locked the door to the Imagination. He really didn’t want Remus coming in at the moment.

Thomas sat down, and waited for Roman to speak. He could see a small field of destroyed items in the distance, and from what he knew of how Roman and Remus separated the Imagination, that would have to have been Roman’s doing.

“I’ve realized that I don’t fit as a ‘light side.’ I’m… aware of some of the problems that I’ve caused. And aware of what that means for my… status.”

Thomas felt a pit in his stomach. “And what’s that?”

Roman paused, looking confused as to how Thomas didn’t get it. “That I’m the villain, Thomas. Isn’t that clear?” His breathing quickened and he felt tears trying to show in his eyes.  “I’m a dark side, Thomas. I’m just as bad -- if not worse than Remus! I-” Roman cut himself off, slapping his hand over his mouth. He shouldn’t have said that. He didn’t mean that and he knew it. He shouldn’t have said it.

“What? Roman, I don’t know where you got the idea, but you’re not the villain and neither is Remus.” Thomas paused and Roman didn’t say a word. “Listen. You’re Prince Roman! You’ve always been a good guy! Where did this even come from?”

Roman’s eyes opened wide, tears welling, and a faint smile showed on his face. “I’m…” He stopped. “I-I make the wrong choices, ones that can hurt. I’m… rude to everyone I shouldn’t be, and completely oblivious when I should be wary. That’s where it came from.”

“Roman, everyone makes mistakes sometimes. The options aren’t ‘good or evil.’ There’s always an in-between. You don’t have to be perfect to be good. Intent is important, and you are absolutely not a villain.”

Roman looked down, not sure what to say.

“Roman, do you need a hug?”

He paused, and nodded, as soon as he did so he could feel Thomas’s arms around him. He sighed, the end of he sigh cutting into a sob. But this time, it was a good thing. He wiped his eyes with his white sleeve and hugged Thomas back. He might not be perfect, and at least for now, that felt okay. He was okay.

Roman sniffled. Thomas smiled and offered, “Do you maybe want to go on an adventure?”

“Absolutely.” Roman waved his hand to unlock the door, glad it was locked in the first place. He summoned up a good scene for an adventure and smiled to himself.

~~~~~~~~~~

Logan paused at the stairway. It was about noon, what everyone else seemed to call morning, and as usual, they were just having breakfast and coffee. Thomas, Roman, Patton, Virgil, and Logan thought he could even see Janus’s gloved hands on the counter. Logan was still too high up the stairs to be seen, and that was very much intentional. He was assessing whether he should interrupt whatever conversation they were having with simply his presence. 

Logan chose to go back to his room. 

However, Logan didn’t know that Thomas had noticed him standing there before he left. Sure, Thomas could only see his shoes, but he still noticed.

“Hold on, you guys. I’ll be back,” Thomas said as he got up. He just wanted to check if Logan was okay. 

Thomas knocked on the door, “Logan? You there?”

The door swung open, Logan standing stoic as ever behind it. “Hey, Logan, I-”

“I do not intend to interrupt you, Thomas,” Logan muttered something else under his breath. “However, I do not wish to join you for ‘breakfast’ today.”

“Well, you don’t have to, but what’s up? I saw you leave from the stairs, I just wanted to make sure you felt welcome.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, he could have sworn that he wasn’t visible. He cursed the oversight. “I just… was debating whether or not to join you, and decided that it might be a better decision to just return to my room.”

“Why’s that?”

Logan looked away. He wasn’t sure how to answer that.

“Logan, are you okay? Do you want to talk-”

“No!” Logan sucked in a breath. Why would Thomas offer that? “I’m fine, like usual. As you know,” Logan gestured to himself, “Logic. Why wouldn’t I be fine.”

“I don’t know yet, that’s why I’m asking. I’m worried about you.”

“You are?”

Thomas frowned. “Can you please just explain to me? Maybe I can help with something?”

“Even if I did, would you listen?”

“What?”

Logan sighed. “You may enter. I suppose I have figuratively dug myself into this hole deep enough that I almost have to explain my thought process now.”

Thomas entered the room and sat down on a chair while Logan sat in front of his desk. “I’m listening.”

Logan huffed a little. “Of course. To get to the point, it has become apparent to me that my advice has become unwelcome, so as of late, I have been… relieving you of my input.”

“Logan that’s ridiculous!”

Logan was caught off guard, “W-what?” He shook his head. “No, it’s a perfectly logical conclusion.”

“I guess I need to work on what impression you guys have of me,” Thomas muttered. “Logan, that’s not it at all. I’m sorry if I haven’t been listening to you lately, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you there. You’re important to me. I… wasn’t sure if I should bring it up, but… you’ve changed a bit Logan.”

“What do you mean I’ve changed? I haven’t noticed a change at all.” Logan said, shocking himself and Thomas with how sarcastic he sounded.

“You used to be so… passionate about knowledge. Sure you were Logic, but you still cared so much. But now, maybe I know why that kind of changed. I’m sorry if you think you have to be so serious around us just to get us to listen. I didn’t mean for that to happen at all. 

Logan furrowed his brow, pausing to think for a moment. “I… don’t know the answer then. What else could it be? What do you want?”

“There is no ‘answer’ this time. I just… made a mistake. A lot of them I guess. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care, it just means that I’m a person. And I promise to listen better to what you’re saying. I don’t mean to ignore you, I guess I just get caught up in it all and-”

“Forget about me?” Logan didn’t mean to blurt that out.

“Not what I was going to say. Logan, you’re just as important as any one of us, and I’m sorry if we haven’t been showing that lately. But I promise that’ll change, okay? You don’t have to worry about being serious anymore, we’ll listen to you either way.”

Logan nodded. “I… suppose that we did learn quite a lot more when I allowed myself to enjoy it.”

“Yes! And I still care so much about learning about the world we live in, just because I became a creator doesn’t mean I ever want to give that up.” Thomas thought for just a moment. “What do you say we maybe try taking some workshop classes?”

Logan barely contained his excitement, remembering what it felt like. And he let a little bit of that excitement bubble up into a smile this time. “That sounds perfect.”

Thomas smiled widely, “Great. And Logan, thanks for talking to me. I don’t want you to feel bad and not get the chance to do something about it. I’m glad to have you.”

“... Thank you for listening. I never doubted you would do great things, Thomas. I am pleased to know that I will be a part of that.”

“Of course. Now come on, Patton made these new pancakes and I think you should try them.”

Thomas turned to the door, and Logan let himself smile again. He was going to enjoy letting himself appreciate things again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Second half in reblog

Thomas raised his hand up, if a bit lazily. “Patton?” He didn’t show up. Thomas tried again.

“Patton? Hello? You there?” He wouldn’t pop up. 

It was probably nothing, Patton was probably just a bit busy. But what if that wasn’t it? He oculnd’t help but starting to notice a pattern. Thomas groaned and decided to go ‘say hi.’ He wasn’t going to stop worrying until he did. 

Thomas walked through the hall where everyone’s rooms were, and stopped at Patton’s door. He could faintly hear him on the other side, but decided to ask anyways, “Patton? You there?”

The noise immediately stopped. Usually Patton would come running to the door and open it wide, smiling and inviting whoever was on the other side in. And he was clearly in there, so Thomas didn’t quite understand what was going on. 

“Patton? I heard you in there, can you open the door? I could use your help with something.”

A few seconds later, Patton came up and opened the door. “Hiya Thomas! Whad’ya think I can do for you today?” He laughed, Thomas didn’t think it sounded quite right.

“You… okay?”

Patton frowned and sank slightly, but only for just a moment before immediately popping back up again and smiling wide. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“I don’t know, that’s why I asked.”

“I’m fine, kiddo! Now what was it you wanted help with?”

Thomas paused. Patton definitely didn’t seem fine, and Thomas really didn’t feel his problem was that big of a deal if Patton needed some help. “Well, it’s not really that important, just a little thing. Besides, I’m pretty sure I know what your answer would be anyway.”

“The wrong one?”

Thomas blinked. “What? No, there really isn’t a ‘wrong one.’ You sure you’re okay?”

“Of course I’m sure!”

“Patton, you know you can talk to me, right? You help me all the time, I wouldn’t mind returning the favor in the slightest. You’re my friend Patton, you’d want me to listen to my other friends too, and you’re no different.”

Patton caught his breath. “Well, when you say it that way…” He frowned. “Okay, come in. It’d probably be better for me to tell you anyways.”

Thomas stepped in and immediately smiled. He always loved Patton’s room.

Patton summoned an extra bean bag near Thomas. “You can sit down. If you want, I mean.”

Thomas sat and asked, “So, what’s going on?”

Patton decided to just say all as bluntly as possible. He couldn’t really help it anymore anyways. “I’m trying not to boss you around so much. I’m… not really ever sure what I’m doing Thomas. I want to help you, but there’s so many questions and they’re always getting so much harder, and if I’m being completely honest, I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I want you to be a good person, Thomas, but I’m starting to get really confused as to what a good person is even like! And I can’t even figure that out because it’s all so different and you need my help a lot. I’m worried I shouldn’t try to give you advice because… maybe if I let you know what I think, my wrong answers, you’ll get hurt. And I’ve never wanted you to get hurt! I just don’t want anything bad to happen, but I can’t stop encouraging you to do what I think is right because, well, I think it’s right! But now I know that maybe it isn’t? It’s so difficult sometimes.” Patton sighed.

Thomas froze. That was… a lot. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want Patton to feel bad, he knew that. 

“I’m… sorry for putting all that pressure on you. You don’t deserve that. I understand that a lot of these questions are hard, that’s usually why I come to you for help. And your choices aren’t wrong, Patton. These things aren’t right or wrong, there’s all sorts of grey areas.”

Patton looked away. “A part of me knows you’re right, but it’s still hard to believe. For so long, it was just that golden rule. And that’s still important! But apparently it isn’t always right. That makes things feel impossible, whenever I had doubts I’d just think of that and be able to tell you what to do. But listening to that now seems like it just gets you hurt.”

“Well, maybe that’s not quite true. It’s all about doing what you would want others to do to you, right?”

“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Yeah.”

“So, say you invited someone over to help you… do a puzzle, okay?”

“Yeah?”

“And they cancel, because they need to stay home this time because… they need some rest..”

“Oh no! Is my friend okay?”

“Yeah, they’ll be fine, but staying home will help them feel a lot better.”

“Well, if them coming over will hurt them, I can wait. If my friend staying home helps, then of course they can cancel!”

“Exactly! So, you wouldn’t want them to go anyways if it hurt them, right?”

“Of course not!”

“So if you’re the friend, it’s okay for you to let your friend know that you’ll have to come over another time, because you would want your friend to stay home if they were the one hurt. Golden rule.”

Patton looked surprised, then thought for a while. “That makes sense!”

“There are different ways to solve problems. And maybe I should try to come up with a solution myself a bit before coming to you.”

“Thanks Thomas. This helps a lot.”

“So do you, Patton.”

Patton smiled. “You wanna watch a movie?”

Thomas stood up. “A bit later, if that’s okay. I uh, have to help a friend out with a puzzle really quick.”

Patton laughed, “Okie-dokie. Tonight?”

“That sounds right to me. Have one picked out when I’m done, okay?”

~~~~~~~~~~

Second half in reblog

[littlemisskookie]

Loveless: Chapter 6

Loveless: Index Ship: Reader | OT7 Description: Spy/Men in Black!AU | You worked at an institution that dealt with aliens- aliens that were the fictional creatures we were told were from fairy tales. The job entailed love only for it, and nothing else. That’d all change when a mission goes wrong. Warnings: Sub/Dom Themes, Choking, Blowjob, Pussy Slapping, Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Sir!Kink, Degrading Names, Dumbification???, Intercourse, Comedy Word Count: 4,054 A/N: beta read by @jungtoeseok

"Hobi," you whined, your thighs pressed against each other as a reaction to the sudden flesh of arousal.

Ah yes, feeding time, Hoseok thought. AKA the least sexy way to describe coitus.

It had been a little less than a week, and already Hoseok was worn out. He never before believed in the concept of "too much sex", but with you, you were insatiable. Your group called it feeding, and your lust hunger. It made sense. True to theory, you were slowly regaining strength, your face becoming fuller as well as your body. You were no longer skin and one, instead returning to your normal self. You regained muscle and fat, truly fleshed out instead of a mere outline of what you once were.

Still, you needed constant feedings in order to maintain it. Hoseok did his best to keep up, knowing it was in the best interest of your health. However, every waking moment seemed to be spent with his dick inside of you. The most constant sex he had gotten in his last sexual relationship was perhaps twice a week. Now he had to do it three times a day if he was lucky. It really was like meals.

Not that you'd have any problem getting him up and ready. One moment it feels like the last thing he'd want, and suddenly something would consume him. Your scent, your body, suddenly he was up and at attention. He couldn't help it. You were like an addiction. Perhaps it came with reading his sexual desires. You could always sense what he wanted and how, switching positions without a word and whatnot. You no longer had to tell him what he needed to do, unleashing his innermost desires. Along with your ability to turn him on came the parts of him that were unable to be held back.

It had been only a few days and you two already knew each other's bodies like the back of your hands. So with the whine in your voice and the sudden scent of your arousal, Hoseok knew what was coming.

Both of you, duh.

"Fuck," he groaned, groggy from just waking up. What time was it? 5 AM? "What is it my little slut needs this time?" he questioned, as though he didn't already know from the semi he was beginning to form.

"I want you to fuck me."

Hoseok's hand was quick to latch around your throat, choking you enough where your airflow was cut off immediately. "Who are you to order me around, whore? Last time I checked you weren't the ones who made demands in this relationship."

"S-Sorry. You make the demands," you choke out. "I just follow."

He squeezes harder, enough where your face was beginning to bloom red. He always thought you looked pretty in red. Never would've guessed in this way, before, to be honest. "Oh? I think you're forgetting to address me. Are you so hungry for cock that you've forgotten your manners? Or are you just stupid?"

"Sir! I'm so stupid, sir. So stupid and hungry for your cock. Please fuck your dumb little girl."

"That's my girl," Hoseok purred, rolling over slightly to give you a chaste kiss to the lips as he let go of your throat, letting you breathe once more. "Get me hard and we'll see what we can do about that dick hungry pussy of yours, alright?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," you say obediently, wide awake as you descend down his body to do his bidding. You're quick to get him out of his underwear, seeing as it was the only thing he had on after you knocked him out from last night's boning.

You take his semi-erection into your mouth, careful as you twirl your tongue around the tip, using your hand to pump up and down his shaft. You let your tongue run lower, a trail of saliva along the underside of his length until you were massaging his balls with your tongue, sucking gently on them as you maintained eye contact. Hoseok always had a thing for looking you in the eye for dirty deeds like this. He didn't care who was performing oral on the other; if your eyes were locked it was a turn on guarantee.

Hoseok let out a pleased hum, a sigh of content as he let his hand pet your hair, urging on your ministrations. You moaned around him as you took him a bit deeper, sending vibrations throughout him at the sensation. He cursed, both of you feeling him get fully erect as you continued. 

"You're so good to me. My good girl," Hoseok praised, cupping you by the chin to bring you up for air. You captured his thumb in your mouth, sucking on it and bobbing your head in a familiar fashion to how you sucked his cock earlier, only to emit a groan from him. "Yeah yeah, I know. You want this cock inside that greedy cunt of yours, don't you?"

You hummed, nodding eagerly.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Sit on it if you want it that badly. Ride me good, baby, I'm about to fall asleep. Don't want me to get bored now, do you?" 

"Yes, sir." You were eager, ecstatic as you straddled the man, admiring the sight below you. He was rather stunning, you had to admit. Never in your dirtiest daydreams of him back at the agency could you have imagined the scene before you. Tousled, messed up hair from where you pulled the night before, sticking out from all sides. You distinctly remember it was when he was feasting between your legs, keeping your thighs firmly planted against the mattress as he devoured you whole.

Both of you let out a groan of pleasure as you began to sink down onto him, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of your walls stretching to accommodate him as he filled you completely. You'd never tire of that feeling, no matter how many times he wrecks you. 

Still, despite the fact you were physically on top, Hoseok would never allow it metaphorically. Despite the fact he didn't want to do the work, simply lay back and enjoy to let you have your fun, he couldn't resist. Your warm heat was just all too inviting, beckoning to burrow impossibly deeper into you. 

Digging his heels into the mattress, he bucked his hips into the air, making you stumble as you find purchase on his chest, trying to regain balance. He didn't allow you to get comfortable for long, beginning his relentless pace as he dug his hands into your hips hard enough to bruise, slamming his hips into you. 

"Fuck, fuck, fu-" Your cursing was cut off, one of Hoseok's hands coming up to shove his fingers into your mouth. You looked so dumb at that moment, a dumbfounded look on your face. You wore a blank expression, your mouth filled as you looked at him.

"Nasty girl. Good girls don't curse, do they, Q?" Hoseok asked, shaking your head for you, side to side in an aggressive manner as though to knock some sense into you.

Your eyes rolled back, feeling him reach that special spot inside of you, stimulating the small bundle of nerves that made your toes curl. His hand dragged from your mouth to clasp around your throat, leaving a trail of drool and saliva along the way.

You were getting close, but you needed that extra push. You let out a needy whine, hips bucking against Hoseok as you attempted to grind your throbbing clit against his pelvis.

"Little slut needs to cum, huh?" Hoseok questioned, chuckling darkly.

You wordlessly nodded, mouth agape. You couldn't even speak, lips parted as you just drowned in pleasure, the overcome with how good it felt. 

"You don't get to cum without my permission," Hoseok growled, giving a quick swat to your needy heat.

"Yes, sir!" You gasped out. "Please let me cum?"

"Not until I say so." You bit your lip at that, trying to concentrate at keeping the orgasm at bay. You were right at the edge, and if Hoseok were to grant you mercy, what with even a small rub against your clit, you'd be undone. Instead, you were needlessly dangled over the edge according to your Sir's whims.

Still, from the twitch of him inside you and the small throb, you could tell he was close. His grip around your throat tightened, pace becoming sloppy.

"Oh fuck, god. I'm close," he groaned, a low hiss emitting from between his teeth. His other hand dragged from your hip to rub small circles into your clit. He watched as you became undone, able to feel the vibrations of your moan against the palm of his hand against your throat. You quivered and shook, thighs shaking on either side of him as your cunt spasmed around him. Soon enough he was following after, your orgasm milking him for all he was worth until he was filling you up with more than you could handle. Both of you could feel both his and your liquids spilling over his cock, dribbling over his balls and onto the bed. 

"Fuck, Q, you made a mess of me," he chuckled, letting go of your throat to pet your hair, calming you down from your high. You collapsed onto his chest, both of you breathing heavily.

"Yeah, well I could say the same thing. Just yesterday Jimin commented on the marks from the choking. You're just intent on marking me up, aren't you?" You laughed at that mindlessly sucking on a junction along his collarbone, your heart rate slowing to a more stable rate.

"Says the one that's leaving a hickey on me as we speak," Hoseok teased. "Why don't you shower already? You stink."

"It's your fault!"

"Yeah right. Go ahead. I'm gonna make breakfast. You want some?"

"No way, you burned my eggs last time."

"I was trying to be nice!"

"Nice, but face it, you're a terrible cook. Leave that to Jin."

"Alright alright, I'm heading out before you roast my natural talent any further," Hoseok grumbled. Grabbing some sweats and a t-shirt, he made his way to the kitchen, the only other person there being Namjoon.

"Hey, man," Hoseok greeted, opening a few of the drawers. "Have you seen the frying pan?"

"I think it's in the dishwasher," Namjoon answered, focused on the crossword puzzle before him. "Everyone else is asleep. Not surprised to see you're up already, though."

"I wasn't much of an early bloomer before, to be honest," Hoseok chuckled.

"Had fun with Y/N?"

"Yeah, always do but... It's embarrassing to say, but I feel like my dick's going to fall off."

Namjoon laughed at that. "That often, huh? You two have been going at it like rabbits. We've barely been seeing you two."

"I never thought there was such thing as too much sex," Hoseok said in a disbelieving tone. "Like, typically this would be any man's dream, but it's exhausting, you know?"

"It makes sense why her libido's so high, though," Namjoon admits. "I mean, think about the last time she even had her strength. Way back at the incident, when we met Jashwi. Now imagine you haven't eaten any in all that time. Of course you'd try to eat as much as you can to make up for what you had lost. And there's no doubt it's working."

"Will it always be this way?"

"Well, there are two scenarios. The first is that once she's had her fill, it'll go to a more normal, reasonable schedule. The second is that it'll always be that way. You do have to consider it like meals for her in a sense. We typically have three meals a day, so it's the same for her."

"I'm serious when I say I think my dick's going to fall off," Hoseok groaned. "Don't get me wrong, it's great. Kind of weird, actually, how good it is. Like, the first time we did it, before we even started she just stared at me for a minute and told me exactly what to do. It was like something unlocked."

"Like new skin in Fortnite or something?"

"Fuck off, man, everyone's back on Minecraft's dick."

"Right, right, my bad. And perhaps her sexual intuition and perception are simply what comes along with it."

"Advice?"

Namjoon pondered for a moment. "There's really only one solution. You'll have to get another guy to feed her."

"What makes you think any of the other guys could handle her libido any better than I can?"

"That's not what I'm suggesting. I mean the two of you share her. If she's too much for one man, maybe she's enough for two. That is if you're both comfortable with the concept."

"Huh, didn't think of it like that," Hoseok admitted. "Do you think everyone would be ok with that?"

"A polyamorous, sexual relationship?" Namjoon questioned, quirking a brow. "I think so. Every man here has expressed at the very least sexual desire for Agent Q, and so far everyone's done well enough to be ok with the concept of you screwing her. If they can get some as well I'm sure there'd be no complaints. More efficient, anyway. Besides there's no actual risk, seeing as everyone's clean and there's no risk of pregnancy."

"What about Y/N?"

"You'd have to be the one to talk about it to her," Namjoon shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe she's got her own fantasy about being passed around seven guys."

"I think we'll just start with two for now."

"Good idea."

-

You nuzzle into Hoseok's side, your hand slowly creeping up his inner thigh. He let out a groan, suppressing it as he catches your hand. 

You look up at him, confused. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no, it's just..." Hoseok tries to figure out how he wants to phrase it but ultimately decides to be honest. "I don't think I can keep up at this rate, having sex as often as we do, I mean."

"Oh, I understand. I'm sorry, I should've put your feelings into consideration more. After all, your libido is normal," you say, retracting your hand. "I'll be able to hold off for a few days and give you time to rest."

"No, I don't want you to do that. You need to get your strength back completely and keep it there. You can't do that if you starve yourself."

"Well, what do you suggest?"

"Well, do you think you'd be open to introducing someone else into this as well? It might be easier if you feed on two guys."

"That's a good idea... are you ok with that, though? And would the other guy be? I know it's not like most polyamorous relationships, but sharing isn't exactly common."

"Look, I'd be completely fine with it. Your health is most important to me, and I'm a grown man, I can contain any jealousy as long as there's communication. Besides, you admitted it wasn't like most polyamorous relationships- this is strictly sexual and for your benefit. I don't doubt that whoever you pick will have the same mindset. You have six to choose from anyway."

"I don't want to choose, though. You know all of you are equal to me," you pout. Your eyes light up suddenly. "I know! We'll do the same thing we did last time, with the cards! But this time I want to watch."

"What? Are you sure? Won't that be kinda weird, since what they're essentially gambling for is you?"

"I know none of you think of me as some prize to be won. Besides, I think it'd be interesting. It's better than me anxiously waiting by myself for the results. Who came in second place last time, anyway?"

Hoseok thought for a moment. "I think that was Namjoon."

"Oooh, I wouldn't mind Namjoon. I wonder if he'd spit about the trade bonds between elves and vampires during the act."

"Dear God, I don't want to think about that," he groaned.

"And the fairies are in- in charge of," you panted, "in charge of STEEL!" You bucked your hips in the air, rolling your eyes back in lieu of an orgasm.

"You better hope that I don't tell him about this."

"Why not? I'll do it in front of him! Anyways, let's start the card game, I'm starving already."

-

You assumed the guys would play a game like Poker or something that could be played in a casino. You could see it already- the fancy Versace suits and the red and black, surrounding a table as they throw chips mindlessly on the table as though it were nothing.

Instead, it was six dorks in sweatpants surrounding a coffee table and playing Go Fish.

It was Jungkook's choice, seeing as he was the one with the cards. Oddly enough someone had to explain the rules to Jin. Fucking numbnuts.

"So, Agent P, got any sevens?" Jungkook questions, keeping his cards close to his face, glaring at Jimin from above.

Jimin only revealed a smug smirk. "Go fish, bitch."

"Fuck you!" Jungkook said. "You and your Agent Perry looking ass."

"Hey, look, that's why I chose it! It was between that, S, and E!"

"Perrry, perrry the platypussss," you sing under your breath from your spot beside Hoseok.

"I did always find it a bit funny that you chose that letter of all of them," Namjoon admitted as he stared disappointed at the two pairs he had. 

"I loved that show as a kid, I thought it was cool," Jimin admitted. "The platypus was my favorite character."

"Well, I think I can add another nickname to the list, Perry," you chuckle, poking your elbow into Hoseok's ribcage to elicit a laugh.

"You can call him Agent P," Hoseok jokes back.

"When you think about it there's a lot of things that can go with P," Jin comments. "Penis, pussy, Perry-"

"Pee and poo," Taehyung adds.

"Thanks, Agent V, for your contribution."

You bury your face in your hands. "I can't believe I'm going to sleep with one of you."

"Who knows? With your libido you might have to hump your way through the list," Yoongi adds, turning to Jimin. "You don't have any sevens, but got any twos?"

"It's not your turn, yet! Besides, don't phrase it like that," Jimin scowls.

"You're just saying that because you've got twos. Cough them up."

"I think it'd be best to stick to two for now and then work our way up. I don't want to be overwhelmed with dicks. This isn't Omegle," you comment. 

"God, that scarred me when I was younger," Jungkook says. "Jimin, it's your turn, are you going to make a move or what?"

"Well, Yoongi, got any twos?" Jimin questions.

"Fuck you man, I knew you had them," Yoongi says before tossing one over.

"Jungkook, you're still such a baby! A youngin who's growing so much!" you coo, reaching over to comb your fingers through his hair.

"I'm 21! I can drink in like every country! Besides, I don't think you want to go on about how young I am, considering I might have my dick down your throat at some point."

"As if, you're a total baby boy," you joke.

"We'll see about that," he growls beneath his breath.

"Hold it there, Agent Z. You're nowhere close to winning," Namjoon reminds him. It was right. He was in fourth place, with both Namjoon and Jin behind him. "I would've thought you'd be good at this game since you suggested it."

"It has nothing to do with skill! Next time we're playing BS," he grumbles.

Yoongi turns to Jin, "Got any Queens?"

"I got one on the couch," Jin says, tossing his head over to you.

"This is why you're in last place," you reply.

"Darn. B, got any Kings?"

"Dammit," Namjoon mutters, tossing over the king card, his last one.

"See! Now I'm tied with Namjoon," Jin gloats.  "Taehyung, any threes?"

"Go fish. Any Jacks?"

"That was my last one too!"

"Looks like you're out of the running then," Taehyung grins. "Perry, any fives? And sixes and while you're at it."

"Fuck you," Jimin hisses, giving the rest of his cards. "I was at the top too."

"You're not a top period," Taehyung fired back, chuckling. He looks over to Yoongi. "Aces?"

Yoongi hands over his second to last card, quirking a brow. "You're intent on winning this, aren't you?"

Taehyung's cheeks flush red, and you feel a bit of sympathy. "Well," you add, "you don't seem as though you're intent on losing."

"Didn't you know I was naturally competitive?" he quips back.

"Eights?" Taehyung asks Jungkook. 

Jungkook hands them over, a frustrated look on his face. "Are you cheating or something?" he asks, skeptical.

"No. Unlike you barbarians, I know how to pay attention," Taehyung says smugly. "And I'm guessing you've got a three to go along with that accusation?"

Jungkook coughs it up, groaning as he's out of the game. "Fuck, man! You've got to be shitting me.

"Yeah, and for all you know, some of us have ADHD or ADD," Hoseok adds.

"Alright, and for my final trick, I'm going to guess what everyone else has! All that's left are Namjoon and Yoongi's cards." Taehyung rubs at his temples, scrunching up his face as he makes a big show of it. "Good sir, I believe you have a two," he says, pointing at Yoongi, before reverting it to Namjoon. "And you have nine!"

Both toss their cards onto the coffee table, revealing to the room that Taehyung's magical predictions were indeed correct. Everyone was aghast, and for a moment you did feel as though you were in a casino, seeing men weep tears of both happiness and joy. 

Jungkook grabbed Taehyung into a light chokehold, running his knuckles along the older man's head as he roughhoused with him. "You bastard, you absolute bastard! You've got to be cheating!"

"I'm sorry I'm the only person who was focused on the game and not on Y/N's rack," he squeaked out.

"Damn, I thought they were distracting enough for at least seven men," you sighed.

"Don't worry,  babe, they're plenty distracting to me," Hoseok says, placing his arm around your shoulders.

"You've seen them!"

"So has Jimin, what's your point?"

"They're delightful, by the way," Jimin adds in.

"Well you've currently got a view straight down into the valley of betrayal."

"No one can help that you're a shortie amongst us, Q," Hoseok laughs.

"Fuck you!"

"You already have!" Hoseok quips.  "Multiple times, in fact." He looks over to Taehyung, who was gasping for breath once Jungkook had finally let him go. "Congrats on becoming an official member of Y/N's reverse harem, V."

"I thought we already were that as potential 'lovers'," the man gasped out.

"Yeah, but as I said, official," Hoseok grinned, reaching over to shake the boy's shoulders playfully, as though to knock sense or emphasis into him. 

"That's right Tae, you've won the grand prize from our show! An endless amount of pussy!" You launch yourself at him, embracing him in a bear hug. "And what a show you put on!"

"I'm not sure if you two are making this less or more weird," Taehyung grumbles, his breath once again taken from him due to the tightness of your grip.

"Weirder. Definitely weirder," Yoongi offers.

"You know those lifetime amounts that they offer though on TV shows aren't really infinite, though," Jin adds. "There's like this whole subreddit dedicated on it."

"That's why I said endless, not lifetime," you huff. "Besides, how's it rigged? Do they only send like a year's supply or do they kill the winner off?"

"Dear God, can we ever stay on track for a conversation?" Namjoon grumbled. "Maybe some of us do have ADD or ADHD."

"Wouldn't that show up in our records?" Jungkook questioned.

"Nah, you know how companies and society is. Mental illnesses aren't taken as seriously as physical ones. But there is some improvement on that as of late," Namjoon notes. 

"Does this mean we'll have to play cards any time we want to get laid?" Jimin questioned.

"Don't worry, Jimin, I'm more than happy to dick you down again," Yoongi offers.

[nitr0glycer1ne]

Ducktober/Duckvember Day 10 - DT87

-FInally, I'm writing for two of my favorite characters: Fenton and Gyro!!! When I was a kid and read Donald or Scrooge comics, Gyro was my favorite character :) at first I wasn't really happy with his portrayal in DT17, but I've come to really like him as his own character. I just hope that season 3 will be the occasion to see him being friendlier to Fenton... I didn't watch DT87, but I did look Fenton up and decided to use one of his main traits in this story. Hope you enjoy!!

--------

It’s only been four days since the intern has started working with you, and you already can’t stand him.

He’s loud, he’s behaving as if he’s injecting himself with adrenaline and energy drinks every second, he’s clumsy and, worse of all, he doesn’t understand the concept of personal space. You suppose it’s not out of a particular desire to annoy you, that it’s simply the way he is- still, you can’t help but shove him away when he comes too close, whether it be to read a blueprint over your shoulder or to bring you your morning coffee.

Well, at least you’re thankful for that. Although you love the latte from the shop down the road leading to your employer’s Money Bin, you can’t stand the barista, some kind of stuck-up duck who looks at you as if you have the plague or something. The intern doesn’t have this problem; he’s the kind of person to enjoy chatting with everyone. The proof is that he keeps talking to you, even though you’ve spent the last four days making it clear that you don’t want him to.

The concept of silence is apparently something Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera has yet to understand.

Oh, well. At least he brings you a tall, warm cup of latte with two sugars every morning, just the way you like it. You’re kind of impressed it’s only taken him four days to get it right, but there’s no way you’ll tell him that. He’s already glued to your hip like a puppy, following you everywhere and asking question after question; no need to encourage this behavior by making him think you’re proud of him or something. Yes, it’s flattering to have someone calling you by your actual title of Doctor (with five PhDs, thank you very much) and be constantly impressed with your inventions, it’s a nice change from the money obsessed morons who keep scolding you about your creations turning evil (like it’s your fault!), but Fenton manages to make that praise insufferable.

It’s not like you even wanted an intern to begin with. You were perfectly happy in your laboratory, your sacred domain, the one where your reign was absolute and your decisions unchallenged, a safe retreat from Scrooge McDuck’s office and his stupid board of executives, the ones who go on about unnecessary costs and who want to restrain your genius. You didn’t need anybody.

But one day, Scrooge told you he had signed a partnership with Duckburg University, something about receiving funding for research if you took in an intern- an unpaid one, of course, he had been quick to precise. You had scoffed; as if Scrooge had been willing to pay for one more employee. You had been furious, too, and you had screamed, outraged; but in the end, you had given in, in part because your employer had threatened to fire you, but mostly because you need those funds, desperately. Your inventions, as brilliant as they are, don’t exactly come cheap, especially since sometimes (okay, maybe often) you have to clean up the mess they’ve done.

So you have ended with Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera, of all people.

You haven’t chosen him. Actually, he has been the only one to apply for the position; it had been quite a blow to your ego, since you thought every student in the university’s science curriculums would have rushed at the opportunity to work with the brilliant Dr Gyro Gearloose.

But they hadn’t.

You had quickly brushed it off; they had been too scared, that was all. Your genius intellect could be threatening, you knew it. They had simply not felt up to the task.

You had barely looked at Fenton’s file before he came, eager-eyed, on his first day. Sure, he’s the best student in his curriculum, and has already done an internship in a small laboratory- not that any of this means anything to you.

Others simply can’t get on your level. It’s not boastfulness; you’re simply stating a fact. Others don’t get you. You solve problems before they’re done exposing them, you connect dots they can’t even see.

And no matter how much enthusiasm Fenton pours into his new job, no matter how he watches your every move and takes notes on everything you do or say, no matter how many times he’s said he admires you, it’s never going to make up for the tremendous gap between your brains.

After four days, you’re finally done with having a twenty-five-year-old behaving like a fourteen-year-old groupie looking at you as if he’s watching an animal at the zoo. So you snap and, even though Scrooge asked you to let him simply observe you during his first week so he could get used to your lab before properly assisting you, you send him to the small deck on the other side of the room with a thick pile of paper, aggressively asking him to fill it. He nods with a proud smile, and just as if you’re wondering if he’s going to cry of joy or something equally ridiculous and disproportionate, he dashes to the small desk and gets to work.

You sigh and finally go back to your own project, relieved and enjoying the peace. You’ve given Fenton the part you hate most about your work- calculations. Of course, you’re good at math, that’s not the issue; it’s just that it’s so time consuming, time that could be spent actually building the things based on your calculations.

You’ve been tinkering for a while, trying to get your newest project to work as intended – it’s a little thing, a light bulb built on a small metallic body, but you just know it’s going to change lives. You’re screwing the light bulb on, when you hear quick steps behind you and you cringe, wondering what Fenton has come up with to disturb you again.

“Dr Gearloose, it’s all done!” he proudly explains, a stupid smile on his beak, as he hands you the heavy stack of paper.

Your eyes widen and you blink slowly. You can feel anger building inside you, and you get up, aggressively taking the papers from his hands.

“Are you mocking me?! There’s 150 pages in there-” “157, actually-” “Do not interrupt me, intern! This is filled with fifth degree equations and functions that take over a page to write! Do you think my work is based on primary school mathematics?! There’s no way you have filled all of them in, in-” you quickly glance at your watch, “less than two hours!” “But I… I have, Dr Gearloose!” he looks lost, and he reminds you of a puppy you’d have yelled at. “I swear! And… and I checked all of my calculations!”

You quickly flip through the thick pile, and you’re astonished to see that, indeed, all the pages are filled with numbers and letters, all in the neatest handwriting you’ve seen a scientist have. You have trouble believing they’re not made up, and you have even more trouble believing he’s had the time to check all the operations.

“Did you make up those numbers?” you ask, squinting your eyes. “I swear I didn’t! I just… I’m good at calculus?”

You laugh, a dry laugh without any trace of joy. You know people who’re good at mental calculations- hell, you’ve seen your own employer accurately counting how much money is in his bin with a single glance. But you’ve never heard of anyone capable to give the answer to fifth degree equations without needing a paper and a pencil.

You only believe in what you see, so you let the pile of paper fall on your desk with a heavy bang, and you grab your calculator.

“You’re good at calculus, really.” you snort. There’s no way. There’s simply no way. You can’t do it, so there’s no reason Fenton can. “Yeah!” he nods vigorously. “Alright, then, intern. Let’s see about that. If you’ve solved and calculated all of this, as you claim you have, you’ll have no issue with a quick test? That shouldn’t be difficult for you, right?” “Anything you want, Dr Gearloose!”

He looks so eager to prove his innocence that you want to slap him. At the same time, you can’t help but feel the tiniest prick of guilt at his distressed expression. You quickly press a few keys on your calculator, coming up with a complex operation, one that Fenton’s sure to have trouble with.

“Okay, then. What’s the thirteenth root of-”

You’re not angry enough to simply say the number. There’s a bit of curiosity overtaking your irritation, and you write the number on the board near you- it’s a hundred digits long. Fenton nods, locks his eyes on the monster of a number you’ve challenged him with, and you can practically see the gears turning in his mind. You can’t help but be intrigued by the look of concentration on his face, although you don’t have the time to fully take it all in, because not even ten seconds have passed when he answers:

“45 678 912.”

Your beak slightly hangs open as you check your calculator, and sure enough, Fenton’s right. Your eyes quickly move, staring at his expression. He doesn’t look smug at all- if anything, he looks hopeful, like a child showing his parents a good report card.

Unable to believe in what you’re saying, you quiz him again. You ask him to calculate the fourteenth power of a number, you write down operations that take the whole board; and every time, in a few seconds, Fenton answers you correctly.

At first, anger boils within you, maybe tinted with jealousy- you push that thought away, there’s no way you’re going to be jealous of Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera. But as you write more and more, as your fingers almost tremble above the calculator and your wrist tires from the pace at which you write the equations and calculations down, you can’t help but feel giddy, and you almost smile when Fenton correctly solves the last problem.

It’s been a while since you’ve found someone who can challenge any aspect of your intellect; you’re not even sure that’s already happened. And Fenton looks so happy to calculate everything you throw at him, so glad to please you rather than to impress you, that you can’t help but be contaminated and feel a bit of his enthusiasm.

“OK, intern, that’ll be it.” You finally announce. You’re stubborn, some would even say obstinate; but you’ve had enough proof of Fenton’s extraordinary ability. Not that you’re going to use those terms with him. “I guess you do calculate faster than most people. Have you always been so quick?” you inquire. You can’t help but be curious about things you can’t fully comprehend; you’re a scientist, after all. “Ah, thanks, Dr Gearloose!” Fenton beams. “I guess so. I just… I don’t know if it makes sense, but I like numbers- I always have. I’m good with them, and… this is stupid, but it’s… comforting, in a way? I just… picture them in my head, and it’s like they move on their own when I have to do math, if that makes sense. Sorry, it’s weird.” “Stop apologizing all the time, it’s annoying.” you groan, hating the way Fenton’s words resonate within you. “I guess it makes sense.”

Of course it makes sense. It’s the same for you; you can see how atoms can interact, complex chemistry formulas and molecules dancing in your head, you can exactly picture how circuits work, how the electricity will run through them. You’ve always seen the world that way, and you’ve never understood how people who don’t manage to have the tiniest grasp on reality. But Fenton’s your intern, not your confident, so you’re not going to tell him all of that.

Not yet, at least.

“Well, since you like numbers that much, I guess you’ll be happy to do all of those annoying calculations now.” you announce, turning back towards the small robot lying on your bench. “Of course, Dr Gearloose!”

You don’t need to see his face to feel the joy and pride radiating from every fiber of his being.

Just like he doesn’t need to see yours to sense the tiny smile on your beak as you wonder if maybe, there’s a small chance you’ve found someone you can truly discuss with.

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

The ability I used is 1987!Fenton's impressive capacity to count things at a single glance. I changed it to fit his character better, since 2017!Fenton isn't an accountant but a scientist.

That might have been obvious with the fics focusing on Louie or on Jim, but I really like using fanfiction as a way to dive into a character's personality, to understand why they act the way they do, how they could act in certain situations. I love character studies!!

I think Gyro's arrogance comes from not really being challenged or threaten by another character's intelligence, which makes him feel superior but also isolated and not really able to communicate with other people. I feel like he'd be threatened by Fenton at first, but maybe slowly warm up to him when finally coming to terms with the fact that Fenton's skills can match his in some areas, and that it's good to finally be able to have someone understand him.

[chaniters]

Only Human

___________________________ Starting a new series with @kruk-art‘s Awan Cormac!

Pre-Heartbreak, going to be focused on Ortega, Anathema and Steel along with some new heroes and Villains. 

The plot will deal with some events mentioned but not fully explored in the game.

Hope you enjoy!

____________________________

“CHARGE!” you cry with a sense of urgency.

“I KNOW!” he yells back at you.

Charge’s standing in the middle of the road trying to stop some car that could help, but there’s not a single one passing by. You keep your hands pressed over the man’s chest wound, where the bullet went in. Your gloves are completely smeared in blood by now.

“CHARGE, HE’S DYING!” you call again.

You feel your own chest burning like fire where you got hit. Unlike you, however, the man you’re trying to keep alive didn’t have a bulletproof suit.  

He suddenly approaches the car parked next to him and…

-CRASH!- goes the window. The alarm starts, but he takes to the driver seat and does something, jumpstarting the engine. He hurries back to you.

“Let’s put him in the back seat”

You nod and help him, still pressing on the wound. Perfect coordination by now. It’s like you had done this all your lives.

You stay at the back while he drives. Both hands on the wound. Rain starts falling, covering the windows, but you only have eyes for the outpour that you can actually do something about.

__________20 minutes later__________

Los Diablos Earthquake Memorial hospital.

You phase up and down the stairs, your brain still speeding at a hundred miles per hour analyzing how this mess started.

You just happened to catch out some loose thoughts from a source that tipped you about the people behind the abductions going to strike tonight. This gang didn’t seem too dangerous, so you simply called the Marshal, the two of you should have been more than enough after all. Abductions and kidnapings of boosted individuals are not as uncommon as the media would have everyone believe.

His powers weren’t even that interesting… super-enhanced visual spectrum. He used it to become a painter, and he wasn’t famous. Just a curiosity among local art collectors.

How could you have known they were going to go after an artist? Why? Two supervillains on him were more than overkill. And now he might die, because of what you didn’t know.

The Void escaped again, and to make matters worse, he teamed up with Psycopathor and his Vulcan Cannon. They had told you he liked oversized guns, but that thing was terrifying to see, especially used inside a city. It’s a miracle no one else got hurt.  

You weren’t ready for a half-hour duel at an art gallery with two heavyweights. But somehow, you pulled it off made Psycopathor fumble with a suggestion, and he got his own hand caught in the rotating gun while Ortega fell on The Void from above. That drove them out, but Void tried to shoot the hostage, to delay you from following. Just like last time with the bombs… Always an escape plan, that bastard.    

You still feel the sharp turns Ortega took driving here, while he passed every single red light, and you kept trying to make other drivers move away with your mind…

You helped to get him on a stretcher and Ortega got him inside with the paramedics, but that was as far as you dared go.  You stayed outside, it’s a hospital after all and you don’t enter hospitals. Besides, in this mindstate, there’s no guarantee your powers are not going to go off.

Your hand goes to your pocket, looking for anything to help your nerves. But there’s nothing. No candy, no chocolate, not a single popsicle.

“Shit,” you say holding your head.

Hyperventilating… deep breaths…

Inhale...

This isn’t how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to be the reliable one in getting intel. This mess is all your fault… you should have investigated further.

You take off half of your mask, uncover your mouth and nose close your eyes…

Exhale…

The hand on your back makes you jerk violently back into reality, striking blindly at whomever…

“Woah... relax! It’s just me!” He’s holding your fist in his palm. Marshall Charge. Not an enemy…

It takes a full two more seconds before you manage to order yourself to put the hand down. You didn’t even notice the static he emits this time.

“Well you’re a mess…” he states simply, with a half-smile.

You scoff and lean on the hospital’s old brick wall. If he wants you to say you’re sorry, he’ll have to wait a long time.

“Got you something” he adds, leaning by your side. A little too close, like he always does. Just enough to make you uncomfortable but not enough that you’d actually move away. He has mastered the thin line of awkwardness.

“And what’s that?” you ask besides yourself, still thinking on the wounded boost, probably in surgery now… probably dying.

“Here,” he says offering a candy-bar.

You see it, then look away, trying to force yourself not to take it… Don’t take candy from strangers. Isn’t that a thing?

But you hand moves on its own, your brain eschewing all logic in favor of sugar. Ortega would make a star pupil of Pavlov. It’s just not fair… he knows you can’t just say no to anything with enough glucose in it.

And thus the deal is sealed, you’ve taken his offering and are thus forced to let out a low-key embarrassed “Thanks”. He simply smiles, counting this as yet another victory against whatever he thinks he’s fighting against whenever he’s around you.

“That was a terrific job” He adds while you feel the wonderful crunchiness of chocolate and peanut in your mouth.

“What?” you say staring at him with your mouth full.  

“The way you handled that situation… It was fucked up from the star, and we still managed to hold our own against those freaks. And you rescued the hostage… I couldn’t have done that better. Hell, I don’t think Captain Glory could have done that better”

“Charge” you’ve forgone the use of the Marshal title a few weeks ago, You’re constantly working together these days and it’s just tiring “It definitely wasn’t a terrific job. I failed. I didn’t get enough intel, we went in blind, and the hostage got shot!” you add pointing out the obvious.

“Well he would be kidnapped and disappeared by now like the others, I mean, if we hadn’t been there, to save him”

“Well he’s not saved yet, is he?” you argue.

“Doctors says no vitals got hit. Just moderate blood loss thanks to you… They say surgery has very good chances with a transfusion. They were stopping the bleeding when I left”

“Captain Glory would have stopped the bullet”

“Well, we’re not really bulletproof like Captain Glory, are we? … and you still took two bullets for him. Did I mention how insane you are?” he says poking lightly at your chest, where the dents on your suit are clearly visible. The mere contact makes you wince and you slap his hand away. The suit stopped the bullets, but the bruises are there to stay. “That was dangerous. You can’t count on these to always work. Especially not if it’s The Void.”

“He used his handgun… and I’m going to blame you if it fails, you’re the one who gave it to me. Besides, what’s the point of bulletproof armor if you’re not going to use it?”

“Ever heard the concept of having a safety net?”

“I was that guy’s safety net. And I couldn’t stop the third bullet.”

He frowns “That one could have killed you”

You look to the side, avoiding his gaze. “You don’t get it”

“What is it that I don’t get?”

“I need to do better… I can’t screw up like this… you did your job keeping them busy, but I didn’t manage clean intel, and then I failed to get a clean escape. I failed! I was in Void’s mind and I couldn’t tell he was going to shoot the hostage!”

“You can’t control every detail! The guy’s going to be alright and thanking you. What more do you want? Sometimes shit happens!”

“Maybe shit happens on your watch, but that’s not how I do things! I can’t let myself screw up!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” he asks exasperated. “I’m just telling you, YOU DID A GOOD JOB!”

“I didn’t. Just…  Just shut up… you’re not the one who fucked this up after all.”

“I screwed up a lot! You think It always works alright for me?!”

“You don’t know what it’s like! I have to be perfect! I have to make up for...”

“Make up for what?!!” he interrupts. “For acting like a fucking hero? Taking bullets for someone you don’t even know?!”

Walking on thin ice. You can’t really answer that. And you’re too angry to answer anyways. Mostly with yourself. You raise your fists, almost ready to punch his infuriating face, but you know he’s not the one responsible. You just turn around. Turn and walk away. Channeling rage his way is wrong and you know it.

Your steps become faster, and faster, the stroll becomes a jog, and then you’re running… Running away from him, back to your base.

“You’re running again… Just what are you running from?” You hear his voice behind you, further and further away.

You’ve got no clear answer to that question.

Him? Your makers? Yourself? The truth?

Maybe all of the above.

It’s not something you ask yourself very often.

No one ever taught you how to stop running. No one taught you how to deal with failure either.

They only demanded perfection in everything you did, and your standards haven’t lowered since.

Being perfect is your only chance. The only way in which you can make up for not being one of them. The only way you could hope they might decide to forgive you, once they figure it all out.

__________________________

My Fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

[olicitysecretsanta]

The Betting Games

A gift for @sarahreesemd by @katanaxqueen

Oliver pushes through the doors of the library rather harshly, earning himself a glare from the librarian on duty. But he pays her no mind, hurrying to the study area in the back. He’s scanning the tops of heads, looking for that signature blonde ponytail—bingo. Walking over to the table she’s sitting at, he pulls up a chair to plop his bag down on it.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says in a rush, dropping his gear unceremoniously on the floor, this time receiving a harsh hush from the librarian.

Felicity looks up from her book. “You’re not late,” she informs him with a smile.

He pauses his movements and looks at her. Firstly, because every time she directs one of her smiles at him he just has to take a moment and admire it. And secondly, because he’s trying to understand what she’s saying.

“What do you mean?” He looks around the table, he now realizes is empty, and his eyebrows draw together. “Where is everybody?”

She glances down at her watch, she’s still one of the few people her age that he knows who even wears one, before answering. “They should be arriving right on time, while you, Oliver Queen, are early.” She tells him proudly.

“Early?” He tests out the word, as if the concept is foreign to him.

She must find the disbelief on his face funny because her lips pinch together, as if she’s trying not to laugh. “Yes.”

“But, I thought…” He looks up at the clock on the far end of the wall. Like any normal 17 year old, he does not own a watch.

“I told you we were meeting half an hour earlier than we were.”

He looks down at her. “You what?”

Felicity shrugs, placing a post-it inside her book before closing it and pushing it to a side. “I was trying to make sure you would get here on time, looks like it worked.”

“How did you know I would be late?”

She looks up at him, an amused smile playing on her lips as she folds her arms on the table. “Because you’re you.”

He shakes his head, huffing out a small laugh as he slowly sinks into the seat across from her. “Well that was really smart.”

“Of course it was, because I’m me.”

He smiles proudly, unable to help himself. “Yes, you are.”

She beams and, not for the first time, Oliver finds himself wondering if this is what it feels like to stare at the sun with her smiling so brightly at him. For this, he’d happily risk going blind.

“Oh c’mon!”

He turns and sees Tommy making a big show of stomping his foot as he sets his bag down dramatically, Sara’s right behind him smirking.

“Exactly half an hour.” Felicity raises her hand, palm up. “Pay up, Merlyn.”

Tommy digs his hand into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. “I can’t believe it worked,” he grumbles, slipping out a twenty and slapping it into Felicity’s awaiting hand.

“Thank you,” she sings songs, grinning as he rolls his eyes.

Sara snorts, taking the seat next to Felicity. “I told you it was useless betting against her,” she tells Tommy as he plops down next to Oliver.

“Yeah well I wasn’t expecting her to be so exact…” He defends weakly, pulling out his book.

“Wait. You guys really bet on whether or not I’d be on time?” Oliver asks, looking between the three of them.

“Nooo,” Felicity drags the word out, shaking her head.

“We knew you’d be late, we bet on whether or not Felicity’s plan to get you here on time would work or not.” Sara chimes in, opening her book.

Oliver shakes his head slowly, slumping further into his chair. “What friends I have…”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m down twenty bucks because of you.” Tommy offers, resting his elbows on the table.

“You know, surprisingly enough, that actually doesn’t really make me feel all that better.”

“Alright boys,” Sara calls their attention, “let’s get to work, these finals aren’t going to take themselves.”

Tommy groans. “Don’t remind me, I’d rather just keep playing.”

“We could, but I’d just clean you out,” Felicity says confidently.

“Besides,” Sara adds, “we all agreed we were going to take a break from The Betting Games until we came back from break.”

The Betting Games is something they’d started their freshman year of school. Being in a boarding school, it sometimes felt like they were missing out on typical teenage experiences. So The Games were a way to amend that. It had started simply enough, a throw away line Tommy had said in passing during an assembly:

“I bet you 50 bucks Headmistress Waller is going to keep us here till after the bell rings.”

That had caught Sara’s attention though, and she’d leaned forward from the bleacher seat behind them to whisper, “I want a piece of that action.”

Tommy had raised a skeptical brow. “Are you good for it Lance?”

Sara had narrowed her eyes, nudging his back with her knee. “Are you?”

Oliver watched the display with amusement as Tommy had exaggeratedly balked at his monetary integrity being called into question. “That’s cute.”

Sara rolled her eyes. “What exactly are we talking here?”

Tommy had turned forward for a moment and Oliver tried not to laugh as his friend made a show of mentally calculating the time. Finally he turned back around the Sara. “50 bucks says Waller’s gonna keep us here for an extra 20 minutes.”

“Well I say it’s gonna be more like 30.”

“You’re on.” Tommy extended his hand out to shake Sara’s, right as a voice chimed in.

“You’re both wrong.”

The three of them turned to find Felicity sitting in a row below them, bent forward reading a book open in her lap. Oliver recognized her from a couple classes they had together and in passing in the hallway, but she had never spoken to him before.

“I say she’ll keep us here for no more than 28 minutes.” She said, not looking up from her book.

“Well that’s specific. What makes you so sure?” Tommy asked.

Felicity had straightened then, pushing her ponytail off her shoulder as she looked back at them. “Because even Waller has places to be.”

Sara gave a low whistle at that. “I like that. We should let her play.”

Tommy thought about it. “How much are you willing to put down on this little theory of yours?”

“50, same as you.”

Oliver couldn’t help but grin at her quiet confidence and the challenge twinkling in her eye.

“Ok,” Tommy said finally, never one to back down from a dare, “you have yourself a bet.”

She flashed him a small smile before turning back around, engrossing herself in her book once more as Headmistress Waller droned on and on.

After a moment, Oliver leaned into Tommy, “50 says she beats you.”

Tommy’s eyebrows raised. “You’re betting against your own best friend?”

Oliver had shrugged, eyes on the blonde before him still reading. “I think I know where my money’s good.”

That had cause Tommy to chuckle as he clasped a hand on Oliver’s back. “As your friend, it hurts me to see you throw around your money so recklessly. But as a competitive man, I’ll gladly rid you of your inheritance.”

Oliver rolled his eyes at Tommy’s cockiness. And once they were all dismissed, exactly 28 minutes after the bell had rung, Oliver watched with amusement as Felicity spun around in her seat and shut her book to look up at them. “I’m Felicity by the way,” she said, holding out her hand as Tommy reluctantly reached for his wallet.

Tommy huffs now, slumping further into his seat. “It was a dumb agreement to make. How am I expected to survive the rest of the semester without the distraction of The Games?”

“Exactly, they’re a distraction,” Felicity says smartly, reaching forward to open Tommy’s notebook, placing it in front of him, “I’m just being a good friend who wants you focused for your finals.”

“A good friend wouldn’t rob me at every chance she got.” Tommy counters, even as he leafs through the pages of his notebook, familiarizing himself with the material.

Felicity rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “It’s not my fault you make poor bets.”

“But you’re a Vegas kid, which means you have an upper hand on all of us. That’s basically cheating.” He folds his arms, “I say we shouldn’t have even let you in on The Games in the first place.”

“Hey, don’t even joke about that,” Sara cuts in, wrapping her arm around Felicity’s shoulders and pulling her close, “A beautiful friendship was born when you made Tommy look like a fool in his own game and I’ll be forever grateful.”

Felicity smiles, patting Sara’s arm appreciatively.

“Besides, it’s not like there’s a fear of you ever going broke Merlyn.” Sara says, tossing a pencil at his chest.

Tommy scoffs. “It’s the principle of the matter.”

Sara rolls her eyes. “What do you know about principles?”

“Oh little Lance,” Tommy begins teasingly before Felicity cuts him off.

“C’mon guys, this is exactly the kind of distractions we’re trying to avoid. Right, Oliver?”

He turns to her, having been sitting back and watching Sara and Tommy’s discussion unfold. “I was actually enjoying just listening to them bicker,” He admits, folding his arms.

Felicity sighs, shaking her head at him, though he can’t help but to detect a small smile playing on her lips, “You’re no help.”

“Felicity’s right, we gotta get back to work” Sara says, “so no more distractions Merlyn.” She points accusingly at Tommy.

He shrugs, unapologetic, “I can’t help it if my mere existence is a distraction for the female population.”

Sara rolls her eyes and Oliver kicks Tommy’s leg under the table. “Ow.” He rubs the spot with a frown before looking up as Oliver gives him a look. Glancing at Felicity, Tommy sees her giving him an equally stern look. “Right… Back to studying.”

She nods, pleased with herself.

“Ready to go?” Caitlin asks, coming up to their table with Ray in tow.

Felicity looks up, fixing her glasses. “Oh yeah, I’m just about to wrap up here.”

Oliver frowns. “Another practice already? I thought you guys still had a week to go.”

“Not anymore,” Ray informs him cheerfully, “the competition has been moved up to Sunday.”

“This Sunday?” Oliver turns to Felicity questioningly, she gnaws on her bottom lip as she sheepishly meets his gaze.

“Don’t let his chirpy demeanor fool you,” Caitlin says, misreading Oliver’s confusion, “we’re all freaking out about the sudden change. Ray’s just banking on his positive attitude to get us all through this.”

“I’m sorry,” Felicity tells Oliver, her hand sliding across the table to graze his fingers, “we just found out about the change at our last meeting. I was going to tell you…”

“Am I missing something?” Caitlin asks carefully, taking in the display before her.

“The championship game is this Sunday.” Tommy pipes up knowingly from Oliver’s side.

“Oh..” Ray frowns for a moment before perking back up, “Well I’m sure you guys will kick some serious butt, you always do.”

“It’s fine,” Oliver waves off, pressing his lips into a tight smile, “it’ll be fine. Have a good practice.”

Felicity opens her mouth, as if she wants to say something but shuts it after a moment, nodding to him as she packs her things. She raises from the table, swinging her bag over her shoulder, “Well I guess I’ll see you guys for lunch tomorrow and our last study session.”

“Yup,” Sara says, popping the ‘p’ as she rests her feet on the seat Felicity just vacated.

Felicity lingers for a split second, her gaze on Oliver, before she raises her hand in a small wave and follows Ray and Caitlin out of the library.

“You okay man?” Tommy asks and Oliver looks back at him, not realizing he had been staring after Felicity’s fleeting figure.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, looking back down at his book, “why wouldn’t I be?” He doesn’t give Tommy a chance to answer, knowing his friend won’t take the rhetorical question for what it is. “Let’s just get back to studying.”

“With Felicity gone we both know there’s not much of a point in studying. If you want to—” Tommy sentence abruptly gets cut off and when Oliver looks up, he sees Sara and Tommy having a silent communication. After a moment, they both turn to him.

His eyes bounce between the two of them. “What?”

“Let’s go over our trig study guide.” Sara suggests suddenly, ignoring his question.

“Great!” Tommy says excitedly, sitting up straight in his chair. “I had a question about that stuff anyway.”

—–

“You alright man?”

Oliver’s brows furrow at Diggle’s question. “Yeah, why?” He asks, pulling his arm back and releasing the football to fly through the air.

Diggle takes a few steps back and catches it easily. “I heard Felicity’s not gonna make it to our last game.”

“Really?” Oliver sighs, “Why is everyone making this a big deal?”

Diggle puts his hands up innocently after tossing the ball back to Oliver. “I’m just following up on what Sara told me.”

“Sara told you?”

“Only after Tommy mentioned it.”

“Tommy—” Oliver shakes his head in disbelief. “Tommy gossips like an old lady,” he says finally, putting more force into his throw than necessary, “I’m fine.”  

Diggle huffs as he catches the ball with both hands, his eyebrow curving upward at Oliver’s tone. “Yeah, I can tell.”

He looks away, wishing that sometimes his friends couldn’t read him so easily.

“Look, she’s your good luck charm, I get it. I mean I don’t feel like I can play well unless Lyla and I have our weekly skype dinners. Everyone has their rituals and superstitions, there’s no shame in that.”  

Oliver glances up at him, knowing that he won’t be judged for his weird belief that Felicity is his own personal good luck charm. But he fears his friend will begin to piece together, just as Oliver has, that there’s more to it than simply that. “Yeah, well,” he shrugs, “there’s not much I can do about it now. I can still play well without her.”

Dig cocks his head, looking like he has more to say. And Oliver knows he’s going to hear it one way or another, John’s not one to keep his opinions to himself. But he doesn’t get the chance.

“Queen! Diggle! Warm-up’s over, let’s run some plays.”

“Coming Coach!” Oliver calls back, bending down to retrieve his shoulder pads. Dig watches him impassively with arms crossed. The set of his mouth lets Oliver know that their not done having this conversation. He sighs, expecting nothing less.

—–

Showers after a long practice are one of Oliver’s favorite things in the world—especially after the way Coach Yamashiro was hounding him today. The warm water beating down on his tense, overworked muscles, loosening knots he wasn’t even aware are there… Very little is better than that.

But as Oliver walks out of the locker room, after toweling off and changing into sweats, the sight that awaits him just might top it.

“What’s going on?” He asks, as he walks up to the bleachers, slinging his gym bag higher up on his shoulder.

Felicity turns away from her conversation with Diggle to shoot him a big smile. “Hey you.” She tilts her head, right as a heavy breeze ruffles the hair of her ponytail, causing it to swing behind her as if it has a personality of its own.

He smiles at the weird thought, stepping up to where Dig is standing.

“I’m trying to convince John here,” she says from her seat on the bleachers, “to eat with us.”

He turns to John questioningly.

“She knows I have a long standing dinner date with my girlfriend,” Diggle replies.

Felicity waves her hand dismissively. “Oh please, it’s a skype dinner. You don’t really have to eat anything, it’s just so you guys can catch up. Besides,” she adds teasingly, her eyes filling with mirth, “it’s not like you do more than just stare lovingly at her through the computer screen.”

He narrows his eyes at her, though there’s no real heat behind his look. “I don’t know if I appreciate being called out like that Smoak.”

“Would this help change your mind?” She reaches behind her and produces two white paper bags with the easily recognizable logo.

“Big Belly Burger?”

She shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. “I figured you guys would be hungry after practice.”

Oliver drops his bag on the grass, stepping up to take one of the offered bags. “You’re remarkable.”

“Was that to me or the food?” Felicity questions as he drops down to sit in

the row below her.

“You,” Oliver says, “definitely you.”

“Oh… Well,” she smiles, shrugging modestly, a hint of blush brushing the tops of her cheeks, “thank you for remarking on it.”

“You could have just opened up with Big Belly.” Dig accuses halfheartedly, conceding defeat as he takes a seat.

Felicity laughs. “What’s the fun in that?”

Diggle just shakes his head as he pulls out his hamburger. They all begin to eat, the only sound is their chewing and the crinkling of wrappers for the moment. Oliver is a lot hungrier than he thought.

“I miss this,” Felicity says wistfully after awhile, “when’s the last time we did this? Just the three of us?”

Oliver takes a moment to think about it, chewing thoughtfully. “I remember the first time we did this.” he says. Which is true, he can recall the first time they ever ate Big Belly Burger together with almost perfect clarity.

It was the day after she bet against Tommy and won at the assembly. He and Dig were partners in their chemistry lab and Felicity ended up joining them that day. She was a new addition to the class because the science class she was originally placed in hadn’t been challenging enough for her.

He remembers the way she walked up to them with a wide smile, ponytail bouncing behind her with every purposeful step she took.

“Looks like you guys got yourselves a third partner,” she’d said, thrusting her hand out. “I’m Felicity Smoak.”

Diggle had pushed his safety goggles up to the top of his head, clearly amused with the display of confidence from the girl so short she could barely graze his chin with the top of her head. “John Diggle, but my friends just call me Dig.”

“Well, seeing as we’re going to be partners, we’ll probably end up being more than friends.” She shook her head right after the words came out, backtracking quickly. “Not in any kind of romantic capacity. I meant more like a, ‘Oh we’re closer than normal friends because we also have chemistry together.’ The class, not…the other thing…”

Oliver couldn’t help but smile at how quickly her mouth got away from her. She closed her eyes and placed her hand on her forehead; he decided to step in and save her. “I’m Oliver.”

She looked up at that, brilliant blue eyes alighting with recognition. “Right, I know who you are, you’re friends with that betting boy.”

Felicity snorts in laughter now, clearly sharing the same memory. “Yeah, why you guys decided to invite me to lunch with you after that disastrous first meeting is beyond me.”

Diggle chuckles, rolling his burger wrapper into a ball. “It would have been more disastrous if you hadn’t shown up.”

Also true. About 20 minutes into their lab assignment Felicity’s hand had shot out, stopping Oliver from mixing two chemicals he had been sure were the right ones.

“What are you doing?” She’d asked, her sharp voice a contrast to the soft look in her eyes.

He had glanced between her and the beaker in his hand. “The next step of the assignment…?”

“No, you’re about to make sodium hydroxide.”

He couldn’t help the confusion that leaked into his voice. “Is that bad?”

“Well, it’s not the next step of the assignment. Also, if you spill it you can give yourself a chemical burn.” She’d said offhandedly.

“Oh,” Oliver had frowned, slowly placing the beaker back down on the table, “so it is bad.”

“Yeah…” Felicity had given an amused little huff, looking up at him playfully. It was the first time doing something stupid didn’t make Oliver feel so stupid. “But it’s all good. No harm, no foul.”

“You saved the day Felicity,” Dig had said, slyly moving the chemicals away from Oliver, “what would we do without you?”

“You’re right,” Felicity laughs, popping a fry into her mouth, “I did save your life.” She gives Oliver’s shoulder a playful shove. “I’m basically a superhero.”

He grins up at her, “That you are.”

She beams down at him, and they stay like that for a minute, just smiling at each other until Dig clears his throat. “As fun as this little trip down memory lane has been, I should get going.”

She gives a small pouty frown. “Okay, but we have to do this again sometime, get the original lab partners back together.” She wiggles her brows.

John chuckles. “Careful, you know how Oliver feels about that title.”

Oliver sighs. “I got used to it, especially after you changed our group message name to that. I could never figure out how to change it back…”

Felicity laughs. “I may have been banking on your lack of technology prowess when I did that.” She grins cheekily.

Dig smirks. “Well Felicity, thank you for the burger.” He gets up, brushing off his jeans.

“Don’t mention it John, and make sure to tell Lyla I say hi.”

“Will do.” Diggle nods, draping his gym bag over his shoulder and adjusting the strap. “I’m sad you won’t be at the game but kick some serious ass at your competition.”

Felicity smiles up at him, her cheeks pink. “I’ll try to make you proud.”

He nods at both of them before hopping off the bleachers and walking down the field towards his dorm. They watch him go for a moment in silence until Felicity turns towards Oliver, ducking her head.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier about the change in schedule.”

Oliver shakes his head, quick to correct her. “You don’t owe me anything Felicity.”

“Of course I do,” she tells him, laying a hand on his shoulder, “you’re one of my closest friends.”

The swelling of his heart to know how much he means to her is only slightly undercut by the use of the word ‘friend.’ He doesn’t know exactly why he expects anything else, they are friends, very close ones. But lately he hasn’t been fully satisfied by that descriptor for their relationship, though he’s been trying not to look too closely into that.

“And as one of your closest friends,” he says, stealing her words, “I’m just happy to support you, in all your academic endeavors.”

Her lips slowly curl upward. “Nice vocab word.”

He shrugs. “I had a good teacher.”

Felicity laughs, the wind picking up around them. She looks at him thoughtfully for a moment. “How do you feel about finals?”

He rubs the back of his neck, “About as good as I can, I guess.”

She hums noncommittal. “Are you excited to go home?”

Oliver nods. “Yeah, I can’t wait to see Thea. I swear it’s like she grows a whole foot every time I come back home.”

Felicity smiles fondly at the mention of his sister. “I can imagine… And how was practice?” She asks, switching gears again.

He shrugs, looking forward unseeingly into the field before them. “It was fine.”

“Looks like we have a winner,” Felicity says softly.

He turns to her. “What do you mean?”

“I could tell something was wrong but I didn’t know what. Want to talk about it?”

He looks down, rubbing the fingers of his left hand together. “It’s stupid…”

“If it’s bothering you I’m sure it’s not.”

The conviction in her voice makes him look up at her. He wonders if it will ever stop amazing him that, for all her intelligence, Felicity is still the kindest person he’s ever known.

He sighs, looking out into the empty field as he answers. “It’s this next game. Coach Yamashiro was really tearing into me today, making me run the same drills over and over, run laps whenever I fumbled the ball… I don’t know, it just seemed like he was really singling me out today, putting extra pressure on me, and I don’t know why.”

“It’s because he’s counting on you for the game.” She tells him simply.

He turns to her. “But why me? John’s the captain.”

Felicity smiles down at him. “John is the rock of the team yes, or boulder is more of an apt description I suppose…” she shakes her head at her own musings, “everyone leans on him and seeks his sage advice. But, Oliver, the team—including John—look to you to take them to victory. They’ll follow your lead, because they trust you as a leader.”

He shakes his head. “How do you know that?”

“Because,” she shrugs, “to those guys out there on the field, to the whole school watching from the bleachers, Oliver Queen is a hero.”

Oliver can feel his own cheeks warming and hopes Felicity writes it off as a reaction to the cold and not to her words. He can’t really say anything to that, she’s left him kind of speechless, a norm for them.

Felicity smiles shyly and looks down, severing their connection. It’s not the first time Felicity’s been the first to look away and Oliver wonders why she does it. If it were up to him, he’d happily get lost in her blue eyes.

“We should go out to dinner on Friday,” the words fall out before he can think of what he’s saying. She looks up and he rushes to cover his slip, “You know, all of us, as like a celebration…our last weekend before we go back home.”

Felicity blinks at him and for a moment he swears he sees disappointment flash through her eyes before it’s gone. “That sounds really nice,” she tells him, “but I can’t.”    

His brows knot together. “Why?”

“My bus leaves right after my last final tomorrow.” She says, a hint of regret in her voice.

“Oh…”

“Yeah, since the ride up there is pretty long they want us to leave as soon as possible so we can get settled into our hotel and get a good night’s rest.”

“Makes sense.” Oliver nods, trying to hide his disappointment.

Felicity bites her lip, looking like she wants to say more but then her phone starts vibrating. She fishes it out of her coat pocket and glances at the screen briefly before putting it up to her ear. “Hey Barry.”

Oliver looks down, picking at the empty burger wrapper still on his lap.

“Yeah…yeah I’ll be there soon. Okay… Okay, bye.” She hangs up.

“More practice?” Oliver asks.

She pulls tight on the end of her ponytail, securing it in place. “Yeah, Barry wants to go over our part of the presentation again, and make sure we have it down.”

Oliver nods, watching as Felicity gets up, dusting off her pants. “So I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow?” He asks, unable to keep the hopefulness out of his voice.

“Yes, of course.” She gives him a smile before walking over to the bleacher steps. “Good luck on your game, score a touchdown for me.” The wink Felicity shoots at him is his favorite. He’s teased her about her inability to properly wink before, the way her other eye also comes down a second later making it just look like a delayed blink. But somehow that small imperfection only serves to make her winks better, more special.

“I’ll try.” He promises, watching as she makes her way down to the field.

She looks at him over her shoulder, waving goodbye before she skip-walks towards the science building.

He watches her leave before shaking his head, picking up his trash and gym bag before getting up. Oliver checks his watch, seeing how much time he has to tweak his paper before it’s due. Hopefully focusing on his essay will take his mind off his strange thoughts about Felicity.

—– 

“Where’s Felicity?”

Tommy looks up, spoon halfway to his mouth. “Well hello to you too.”

Oliver rolls his eyes as he sets his food down and pulls out a chair for himself. “Hi Tommy, where’s Felicity?”

“Practice.” Sara answers, not looking up as she draws on Nyssa’s arm cast.

“What?” Oliver sits down.

“Caitlin picked her up after our World History final so they could practice answering questions the judges might ask.”

“Seems like a lot of practice…” He mutters under his breath.

“Aw c’mon Ollie don’t be a grumpy bear.” Tommy teases, pointing at him with his spoon.

“I’m not a…a grumpy bear, is that what you called me?”

“Yeah man that’s weird.” Sara comments, still engrossed in her artwork.

“I thought it was kinda clever…” Tommy defends lamely.

Oliver shakes his head, happy to have the attention off of him.

Sara finally pulls away from Nyssa’s cast, looking pleased with her work and caping the marker she was using. “I can’t make it to dinner tonight by the way.”

Oliver looks at Sara, his brows drawing down in confusion.

“To the dinner you wanted to do,” Sara elaborates, “Felicity said you wanted to do a group dinner. I can’t tonight, I have plans.”

“Oh, that…” Oliver forgot how quickly Sara gets up to speed on things. He’s also surprised Felicity mentioned his spontaneous idea to anyone. “No, don’t worry about, everyone’s probably too busy anyways.”

“I’m not.” Tommy supplies. “We can get food tonight.”

Oliver’s eyes cut to him, “Uh…yeah man, sure.”

“Great.” Tommy grins. “We’ll invite Dig, make it a guy’s thing.”

Sara rolls her eyes. “Don’t hurt yourselves with all that testosterone.”

“You know Lance, it’s that kind of attitude that keeps you from being part of the boy’s club.” Tommy says smartly.

“Oh really?” Sara ask sarcastically.

Oliver doesn’t pay their argument much attention, Sara and Tommy are always at each other’s throats like cats and dogs. He decides instead to text Felicity, hoping he’s not interrupting her practice.

Remind me to pick up new friends when I go Christmas shopping.

He places his phone on the table, not expecting it to vibrate a minute later. Glancing down, he sees Felicity’s message on the screen.

You mean ‘holiday’ shopping, right?

He smiles at her correction before she sends him another message.

Are Tommy and Sara at it again?

He smirks, she knows them all so well, and types out a response.

When are they not?

It takes her a moment to reply.

Sorry I’m not there to help diffuse the situation.

He shakes his head at her, sending her another message.

Don’t worry about it, I’ll live. How’s practice going?

When she responds, he can almost hear the groan in her voice through the text.

Well having people hypothetically pull my project apart isn’t exactly my cup of tea but…I, too, will survive.

Oliver smiles down at his phone, typing out another message.

—–

“Who have you been texting?”

Oliver looks up. “Huh?”

Tommy nods to the phone Oliver just pocketed. “You’ve been on your phone all day since lunch.”

They’re walking back to campus in the cold, wind rustling their coats and forcing them to huddle into themselves.

Oliver shakes his head at Tommy, waving the question away. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, you’ve been distracted all day. Dig will agree with me.” Tommy looks forward to where John has stopped walking a little in front of them. “Hey Dig!”

Diggle stands in front of a jewelry shop, peering through the window at the glass display. Tommy and Oliver come up behind him, flanking him on each side.

“I’m still debating what to get Lyla for Christmas.” Diggle tells them, answering their silent question. “I know she’s already gotten mine and I don’t want to show up empty handed.”

“Yeah, I still have to get my mom something,” Tommy says, rubbing his gloved hands together for warmth.

Dig looks at the display for a moment longer before glancing at the other stores on the strip they’re walking on. “Maybe something over there…?” He muses out loud, stepping closer to a store advertising coats and handbags in the display window.

John and Tommy start walking closer to the store while Oliver stays looking at the jewelry display, something catching his eye. A quick glance over at his friends shows him they are very much engrossed by the other display window, so he steps into the jewelry shop. He looks around the place, there’s many elaborate pieces of jewelry; sparkling rings, shimmering bracelets and shining earrings. But nothing stops him in his tracks like that piece in the display window.

The woman behind the counter looks up as he starts to approach her. She smiles, looking friendly and ready to help.

“Oliver?”

Oliver stops mid step, turning to see Dig at the door, one foot in the store. “We’re ready to go man, if you are.”

“Yeah.” Oliver nods quickly, stepping away from the counter and towards John. “Yeah, let’s go.”

John gives him a strange unreadable look but doesn’t comment as Oliver exits the shop with him.

—–

Saturday was mostly uneventful. Oliver ran drills with Diggle and a couple of other plays, careful not to wear himself out, and did some studying for his government test. Felicity couldn’t really text much since her and the other teams were busy setting up for their presentations the next day. But she made sure to wish him good luck on the game and promised she’d be cheering him on from her competition. Oliver tried not to be disappointed he couldn’t talk to her, deciding instead to keep his mind and body busy. And after a hearty dinner he turned in early, wanting to get as much sleep as possible.

And now, standing here in the field, he feels like most of the day has past in a blur. But he’s trying to remain present in this game, which has been a long hard fought game.

Oliver swallows down some water and tugs on the collar of his shoulder pads. He knows the wind is biting tonight, the ruffling of the leafs and the huddled crowd wrapped in parkas is indication enough. But the blood pumping hot through his veins doesn’t allow him to feel the cold, though he’s sure steam is coming off his body at this point.

“Queen! Get back in there.” Coach yells.

Oliver runs forward, tugging his helmet back on as the team pours into the field. They all get into position, the play is called out, the ball is snapped to Diggle, and then it’s soaring through the air. It’s caught by Floyd and Oliver goes running after him, helping to fend off the other team. Floyd only gets so far before he’s brought down, hard. The whistle blows and Coach calls a timeout. They all hurry back to him, huddling together at the sideline.

“What do you want us to do Coach?” Diggle asks, pulling off his helmet.

“We could run it, but they’ve been on us all night,” Roy says, the rookie of the team.

“So you want us to kick it and settle for the tie? Hell no.” Ted chimes in, ripping his helmet off.

Rene nods his head in agreement. “I’m with him. No way we let them have the tie. I say we run it.”

“Okay, let me think…” Coach grabs his clipboard.

“Oliver!”

Usually the yelling and cheering of the crowd is a jumbled mess of words, fading incoherently into the background like white noise for Oliver. But this voice is ringing out so clearly and—

“Oliver I’m here! I made it!”

His head snaps up and he swirls around, scanning the crowd. There’s so many people in the stands, the last game of the season making for a decent turn out. But still he doesn’t see the one he’s looking for… And then suddenly there she is, a flash of blonde hair running down the steps.

He barely has the mind to call, “Be right back,” over his shoulder before he’s rushing forward to the stairs. Felicity meets him at the base of the steps, each on either side of the railing. She’s wearing a pink beanie on her head, her glasses are slightly skewed, and the tip of her nose is red, but still her eyes are wide and bright.

“You’re here,” Oliver breathes, needing to confirm that what he’s seeing is real.

“I caught a ride with Iris and her dad,” Felicity says out of breath, a smile on her flushed face.

Oliver can’t help but to smile in return. The brisk wind whips her hair into her face and she pushes her beanie back, adjusting her glasses as she takes a look at the scoreboard.

“It’s a close one and you guys don’t have a lot of time.”

He feels a surge of pride in her ability to understand the board so quickly. She’s come a long way from him having to explain everything to her after the first game of his she came to see. “We can run the ball,” he tells her, “hopefully score some points before the clock runs out.”

“You can do it.” She nods. “I believe in you.”

It’s the conviction in her eyes, the sincerity in her voice, the way it makes his chest warm. It confirms all the suspicions he’s had for a while now, like the final nail in the coffin. And the way she’s leaning towards him, the way her bright eyes jump across his face, he thinks she might feel the same way too. He wants to tell her, but he can’t find the words. The words that would explain to her what he’s been grappling with for months now. He can’t do it, not here, not like this. Not with the crowd of students and teachers around them or the vicious wind lapping at them. Not with the giant clock counting down the game or the—

“Queen!”

Oliver glances behind him, Grant’s at his feet.

“Coach wants you back there.”

Oliver turns back to Felicity. She nods at him, placing her gloved hand over his gripping the railing. “Go.”

And with that, he lets go of the metal, hopping down and jogging with Ted back to the huddle. He feels Felicity’s eyes on his back, watching him, and he knows what he has to do.

“We should run the ball,” He says, getting back in the huddle.

Coach Yamashiro looks up at him questioningly.

“If Dig throws it to me I can get it to the end zone.”

“You sure?” Coach asks, seeing the confidence in Oliver’s stance.

“I can do it.” Oliver looks to Diggle, letting him know that the decision is ultimately in his hands and Oliver will respect his choice either way.

Dig meets his eyes and after a beat nods. “We’re running it,” he tells the rest of the team. “I’ll fake it to Lawton and I’ll put it Queen’s hands.”

“Well you heard your captain, let’s run the ball.” The team all nods in agreement.

They break the huddle, running back out into the field. Oliver squats into position as the rest of the team gets ready around him. He can feel Felicity’s eyes on him and even though from this far away he can’t make her form out amongst the sea of bodies. But he knows she’s there, cheering him on, rooting for him, believing in him, and that’s all that matters.

“Set.”

Oliver is centered, cleared, focused.

“Red 20, Red 20.”

He takes a deep breath.

“Hut. Hut!”

The ball is spiked. Oliver takes off. Everyone runs, moving in different directions. Diggle pulls his arm back. Oliver turns around, still running with his head up, watching as the ball soars through the air. He catches it in his hands. Making sure it’s secure in his arm, he looks forward, seeing the end zone and making a run for it.

One breath.

His feet move in long strides.

One heartbeat.

The wind licks his face through his helmet guard.

He feels pressure on his back, a force dragging him down. He tries to push forward, throwing his hands in front of him, protecting the ball. Oliver feels his knees giving out and demands more from his body.

And then he’s on the ground, his body dragging across the grass.

The horn goes off. He looks down at himself, dirt covering the front of his jersey, the ball secured in his grasp. And he’s lying just past the thick white line.

Then he hears it, the crowd erupting, cheering loudly. He slowly pulls himself up, holding the football over his head as the team bombards him. Suddenly, he’s completely surrounded by the guys. They crowd him in, screaming their congratulations in his face.

Dig clasps his back, “Good job man.”

Rene jumps up and down. “That’s what I’m talking about Hoss!”

“Sweet catch.” Grant nods.

“You were not going down man.” Lawton laughs.

Oliver nods to what people are saying, thanks his teammates, accepts congratulations, but the whole time his mind is only half there. The other half is somewhere in the stands, with Felicity.

The coach calls them back, there’s a short speech of congratulations for ending the season on a high note, and then they’re excused to the showers.

He tries to look for Felicity’s face through the crowd, but there’s too many people and they’re all moving too fast. When he finally gets to the locker room, he fishes his phone out of his gym bag. There’s already a text from Felicity awaiting him.

Congratulations! That was amazing, you’re amazing. I know everything is kinda crazy right now and you’ll probably go out with the team but we should definitely do a celebratory thing. Maybe after we get back from break.

He frowns at the message, guessing she’s probably already halfway to her dorm by now and he won’t get to see her until lunch tomorrow.

“Hey hoss,” Rene walks up to him and Oliver puts his phone away, “we’re all planning to go out tonight, try to sneak into a bar, what do you say?”

“Thanks for the offer but I can’t tonight.” Oliver grabs his towel.

Rene nods in understanding and walks off as Oliver makes his way to the showers, plan forming in his head.

—–

He falls into the bushes, quite ungracefully, but at least there’s no one there to see him. Or catch him, since him being out of his dorm building this late at night is against the rules. And he’s lucky he even made it here this late, he would have been a lot more late if things hadn’t gone his way tonight, in more ways than one.

He pushes himself out of the bushes and dusts off, trying to be as quiet as possible. Checking first to make sure there’s no one around, he sprints forward.

Everything looks the same in the dark and he hasn’t been to Felicity’s building many times—since female dorms are on the opposite side of campus from the male dorms—but he thinks the one across the lawn is hers. He peers around the side of the brick wall he’s currently hiding behind, making sure he doesn’t see anyone. Once he’s certain the coast is clear, he takes off towards the building he suspects is Felicity’s.

Standing in front of her dorm building, Oliver tries to figure out which one of the windows leads into Felicity’s room. He knows she’s on the third floor and he’s pretty sure her room is south facing. He counts off the windows in his head, hoping the one he picks is right.

He bends down to scoop up some decorative pebbles from around the shrubs. Praying he’s right, Oliver tosses the first pebble as gently as he can at the window. There’s no response.

Taking a deep breath, he tries again, a little more forceful this time. There’s a beat after the pebble hits before anything happens. Then there’s movement behind the curtain before it’s pulled back and the window is pulled open.

“Oliver?”

He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding when he hears the harsh whisper, thankful he choose the right window.

“Hey.” He waves up at her and her eyebrow curves upward.

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” He says, trying not to whisper too loudly.

She pushes her loose hair behind her ear. “And a text wouldn’t suffice?”

“It’s important…” he tries to explain, “can I come up?”

Felicity opens her mouth but then turns around quickly. She’s gone from the window for only a moment before she returns, sticking her head out to look both ways before she nods. “You have to be quiet.”

Oliver grins, walking up to the waterspout. He puts his body around it and swallows hard, aware that Felicity’s watching him. He’s only done this half successfully a few times. And he’s never tried it sober but… Here goes nothing.  

Oliver wraps his hands around the spout tightly and digs the toe of his boot in between the bricks of the wall, pushing himself up. He’s satisfied by how surprisingly well that goes, even if it doesn’t get him very far, and does it again. It’s a long way up and he almost slips once—a loud gasp coming from Felicity informs him that she noticed—but eventually he makes it just outside her window.

“Do you need me to help you in?” She asks, somewhat unsure.

He grips onto the window ledge with one hand and shakes his head. “No, just step back…as far back as you can.”

She mostly complies, but stays close enough that she can try to grab him if he doesn’t make it all the way. He counts to three in his head and then pushes himself up with all his might and through the window. He lands in a heap on her bedroom floor, his elbow slapping against the hardwood floor quite loudly.

“Oliver!” Felicity rushes forward, forgetting her own warning to be quiet. “Are you okay?”

“That was meant to be a little more graceful.” He grunts, pulling himself up with her assistance.

“Was it also meant to give me a heart attack, because you nearly succeeded.”

He grins at her solicitous look as he straightens himself. “I needed to give you something.”

“And it couldn’t wait?” She asks, her forehead creasing with skepticism and worry.

“Merry Christmas…or Happy Hanukkah I guess is more accurate.” He pulls the small box out of his pocket, grateful he didn’t crush it in his fall, and hands it out to her.

“Oh.” Her eyes widen in surprise. “And here I thought you were kidding…” She reaches out to take the box carefully. He watches her inspect it for a moment, studying the the little white bow that adorns the top of the box, before looking back at him. “You know I would have been fine with just having your winning touchdown as my gift.” She grins at him, obviously trying to lighten the strange anticipatory tension that has filled the room.

“Well, this is different…special.” Oliver clarifies.

There’s a mixture of excited curiosity and nervous uncertainty in her eyes as she bites her lip. “Oh…kay…”

“Just open it.”

She nods. “Yeah, I’ll just do…that…” Her voice falters as she pulls the ribbon apart and pries open the lid of the box. She stares at the contents for a moment before she reaches inside, carefully pulling the chain out.

She’s silent for a moment, just watching the dim light of her room play against the silver of the necklace. “Oliver…”

“Do you like it?” He asks, shoving his hands in his pockets, more nervous than he was scaling the side of the building just a moment ago.

“It’s…it’s beautiful,” she breathes, turning it over in her hand and watching it catch the light. “But this is too much.” She shakes her head. “I can't—”

“Felicity,” he stops her, “trust me, it’s not.”

She studies him, like she’s trying to solve some complex equation and the answer’s hidden in his face. He’s seen that look in her eyes before, usually in class, and he knows there’s a fury of questions circling her head right now.

“An ‘O’?” She asks carefully, clearly not wanting to misread the gesture.

“Yeah,” he looks down shyly for a moment, thankful she didn’t mistake the letter for a circle as it hangs daintily from the end of the chain. “For ‘Oliver,’ so you have something to remember me by.”

A small smile graces her face as she looks back down at the necklace. “And the heart?” She almost sounds like she’s afraid to ask.

She’s referring, of course, to the small heart, created by an assortment of small diamonds, trapped within the cursive O. He knows she’s going to make him spell this out for her. Taking a deep breath, Oliver readies himself. He should have prepared something to say. “Well, um, the heart,” he begins, clearing his throat, “is so you’ll always…know…”

“Know what?”

“So you’ll always know that it’s yours. My heart, I mean…”

She stands there frozen in front of him; her mouth slightly opened, her brows curved upward toward one another. “I… I don’t think I understand.”

He needs to elaborate. “I had was having a hard time understanding it too, why I always feel like I play better when you’re in the stands watching and why I feel like I understand subjects better when you’re explaining it to me or why I’m not scared of the future when you’re talking about it. And I realized it’s because of you. It’s because you make me a better person,” he shakes his head, “or you’re belief that I can be better, made me want to be better. And then I was better…if that makes any sense….”

A little sound resembling a huff of a laugh leaves her lips but she doesn’t say anything, so Oliver carries on.   

“And no one’s ever believed in me that way before, or made me want to believe in myself. When my parents sent me to this boarding school I know it was because they were fed up with me, I had already messed up too many times… They were hoping I’d find structure here. Instead I found you, and that’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Her eyes get glassy as he finishes, and she just stands there, with the necklace in one hand and the opened box in the other

“I know I’m not…I’m not all that good with words, you’re actually a lot better.” Oliver says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like with everything else.”

Her little huff of laughter matches his.

“But I want to be better,” he carries on, “and, just like with everything else, you help make me better. Because you’re not just my good luck charm Felicity, you’re…everything.”

He looks up at her, standing there silently and starts to feel really nervous again.

“Could you say something please?” He asks finally, feeling like he’s rambling.

Felicity blinks a couple times, shaking her head and looking down. “There you go again Oliver, selling yourself short.” At his confused look, she elaborates, “Not good with words? Oliver, that was…so beautiful.”

He smiles, feeling lighter than he has since falling into her room.

She twirls the necklace around her finger. “So your heart is mine, huh?” She asks coyly, looking up at him through her lashes.

Oliver nods, hesitant to say anymore than he already has.

She bites her lip. “Then we’re even then… Because my heart has always been yours.”

Oliver sighs a breath of relief, the smile forming on his lips feels like it might break his face. But it doesn’t matter, nothing else matters besides Felicity telling him she feels the same way about him. He reaches her in two strides, wrapping her up in his arms. The box clatters to the floor as she reaches up on her toes to hold onto his jaw, pulling him into a kiss.

It’s not the first kiss they’ve ever shared, thanks to a drunken night of spin the bottle that Sara had suggested and Tommy enthusiastically supported. But this time is different. This time there’s no harsh taste of tequila on her tongue and no prying eyes. This time Oliver can moan unabashedly as Felicity’s teasing fingers pull on his ear, pulling him closer. This time, when she wraps her arm around his neck tighter, Oliver isn’t left to wonder if she’s feeling the same thing he is. This time, he knows she is.

Felicity pulls him along, bringing them closer to the bed. When the back of her thighs hit the bed, Oliver, without pulling his lips away from hers, grabs her by the waist and sits her on top of the sheets. She gasps against his mouth at the movement. Their new position puts them closer to eye level and Felicity wraps her legs around his waist, holding him prisoner.

As they kiss, his tongue comes out to flick against her teeth and she bites down on his bottom lip. The sensation has his whole body thumping with energy. He pulls away from her mouth, moving his kisses across her cheek and along the line of her neck. Felicity tilts her head, granting him more access, and he readily takes advantage of it.

She gasps as he starts sucking on the skin behind her ear. “Wa…wait…”

Oliver let’s the skin go, placing a kiss over the angry red spot. “No hickies?” He guesses, moving to pay more attention to her collarbone.

“No it’s…it’s not that…” She breathes, hitching her leg higher on his hip as he nibbles her skin.

Oliver frowns as he moves his head back up. “We’re moving too fast,” he surmises, his thumb rubbing circles on the little patch of skin visible on her hip since her tank top has risen up. “I guess you’re right, I mean we—”

“No, it’s not that.” She shakes her head, laughing softly. And the sound is so freeing, so genuine, it brings a smile to his face.

Felicity pulls back, one hand sliding down to rest against his chest while the other holds up the necklace still hanging from her fingers.

“Put it on me?” She asks, her eyes bright and hopeful.

He nods, smiling. “Sure.” Taking the chain from her hand, he undoes the delicate clasp.

Felicity wraps her hair around her fist, pulling it up and away from her neck. Oliver reaches behind her, fastening the necklace in place before letting it drop carefully onto her skin. He inspects his handiwork and felicity smiles, tilting her head.

“How does it look?”

“You look beautiful.” He tells her sincerely.

Felicity smiles softly, running her thumb along his top lip before pulling him back down for a kiss. He holds onto her hips, pulling her closer as he deepens the kiss. She cranes her neck, trying to get even closer, rubbing her body against him. Her scent is sweet and intoxicating, her mouth taste like mint, and her body feels soft and warm pressing into his. Oliver has to physically force himself to pull away.

“Maybe…maybe we should stop.” He breathes heavily.

Felicity looks up at him questioningly, her lips red and swollen and her glasses crooked on her nose. She frowns at him adorably. “Do you want to stop?”

He shakes his head, wanting to kiss the pout away from her lips. “No.”

Her lips curve up into a smile. She grabs onto the collar of his shirt, pushing herself up. “Then why would we?” She mumbles against his lips before slanting her mouth over his.

Oliver’s hold on her tightens, as he loses himself in her intoxicating breath and urgent kisses. As she continues to press herself closer to him, her calf runs up and down his back, sliping against his shirt. Eventually, Oliver pushes gently on her shoulders, urging her back so she can lay flat on the bed. Felicity is all too happy to comply, never breaking their kisses as she leans back against the sheets, bringing him along with a hand on the back of his neck. He sinks into her warm embrace and her knees come up to bracket him on each side.

He doesn’t know why he denied himself this, why it took him so long to figure out that this is exactly what he wanted. What both of them want, if the little mewing sounds coming from Felicity in between kisses is any indication.

He pulls back after a moment, holding himself above her, and Felicity opens her eyes to look up at him. Her eyes are dark with desire and her lips are puckered and wet. Her hair is a chaotic halo of golden strands against her pillow and the necklace shines nestled against her throat, his initial hanging there proudly.

He smiles at the image.

“What?” She asks, reaching up to touch his face.

He shakes his head, leaning into her touch. “Nothing.”

She smiles and closes her eyes, as if savoring the moment. “C’mere.” She tugs on the hem of his shirt and he lets her pull it off him, shivering as her fingers rake down his chest. Her eyes flash to his suddenly and she sits up, pushing him back on his knees. “Do you have any condoms? Because I don’t.”

He shakes his head. “Honestly I wasn’t expecting to get this far.” He glances back at the still open window. “I hadn’t even really planned on how I was getting in here.”

Looking back at her, Felicity shakes her head, rolling her eyes at him. “So what are we going to do?” She asks, biting her lip.

Oliver grins at her, tucking one wild curl behind her ear. “I have an idea.” He kisses her once more, soundly on the lips, before reaching for her tank top and pulling it up to expose her stomach. He plants kisses all around her belly button and starts to move down.

“Oh…do you?” Felicity asks, breathy, as she leans back on her elbows to watch him descend down her body.

“Mhm.” He hums against her hip, hooking his finger into her pajama pants to slowly reveal more and more of her skin. He stops short when he realizes she isn’t wearing any underwear. Felicity must see his hesitation because when he glances up she simply gives him a shrug by way of answering his unverbalized question.

His eyebrow picks up at that, but he says nothing. Any comment he wants to make goes out the window because this just means there’s one less article of clothing separating them. He makes a quick work of ridding her of her pajama pants and once they’re off, he spreads her legs, settling himself in between them.

He lays a gentle kiss against her mound and feels Felicity’s breath hitch. Making sure to look up and lock gazes with her, Oliver purposefully moves his mouth lower for the first real taste of her. She throws her head back with a groan as he licks from her slit to her clit in one swipe.

Oliver nibbles on her folds, feeling her get wetter around his mouth. After a moment, her hand comes down to his head, fingers massaging his scalp. He slides his tongue into her and Felicity gasps loudly. He moves his tongue in and out of her, working up a rhythm in time with the soft rolling of her hips against his face.

Oliver moves back a little and stiffens his tongue, tapping it against her clit. Her fingers tighten their grasp on the short strains of hair on the top of his head.

“Oliver…” She sighs, her chest heaving. The sound sends a shot of blood rushing straight to his groin and he craves to hear it again and again.

He redoubles his efforts, switching from lapping at her folds to sucking on her clit with ease. And it has the desired effect, her gasps and moans become louder with every stroke, bring a smile to his face.

Her thighs start to tighten around her head and he knows she must be getting close. “Oliver… Oliver please, we can’t be too loud—oh! Oh, yes!” She tugs at his hair with enthusiasm, thrusting against his face harder.

And in the back of his head he knows she’s right, they’re in a dorm building late at night after all, one that’s quite far from the one he’s supposed to be in. But he can’t bring himself to care. The sweet sounds she’s making are addicting, almost as addicting as the feel of her walls hugging his tongue.  

He reaches up to push her tank top up to her chin. Her bare breasts stand at attention against her chest, he cups one, squeezing it lightly. Her other hand comes up quickly to give the other one attention, pulling at her nipple and biting her lip hard to keep her noises at bay. It doesn’t work of course, she’s already to close to the edge and with a swipes of his tongue and hard taps against her clit, Felicity explodes around him.

Her legs tremble against the sides of his face, squeezing together as her walls clamp down and flood his mouth with her juices. She cries out in pleasure, her back bowing as her hand falls to clutch the bedsheet.

Oliver eases her back down, licking gently at at her folds, softly lapping up all the excess juices before slowly pulling back. Felicity’s panting heavily, her arm across her face, when he leans back on his knees to look at her.

“Felicity?” he questions softly. For how loud she was being just a second ago, she’s very quiet now.

She holds up a single finger, still covering her face with one hand. “Just gimme… I need a moment.”

He smiles proudly that he’s been able to render Felicity speechless twice in a single night.

“And wipe that dumb smirk off your face.”

“How do you know I’m smirking?”

She separates two fingers to peek at him through, narrowing her eyes at his self satisfied smile. “Because I know you.”

“And I love you.” He responds automatically and his cheeks warm. Because of all the things he’s told her tonight, he’s failed to mention that.

Felicity pushes herself into a sitting position, her glasses are slightly fogged from her breathing as she looks up at him. “Well, if I didn’t love you before…” she smiles then quickly grimaces, shaking her head. “Wow, that sounds like I only love you because of how hard you just made me cum. Which is not the case, I’d love you even if you were bad in bed.”

His eyebrows jump up to his forehead in amused surprise.

She slaps her hand against her forehead. “And that didn’t sound any better. Ugh, I think you gave me sex brain.”

He chuckles, leaning forward to nudge her hand away with his nose. Once it leaves her face, he captures her lips in a soft kiss, both uncaring about her wetness that still coats his chin.

“Hey,” he whispers when he pulls back, prompting her to open her eyes, “I still love you.”

“Good,” she smiles, draping her arms over his shoulders, “because I love you too.”

He smiles at the ease in which she says the words and leans in for another kiss. Felicity kisses him back and pivots her body, wanting to turn them around. He catches on and acquises easily enough, holding her securely in his arms before he flips them. She pushes on his shoulders, forcing him back against the pillow.

Once he’s down, she straddles his hips. He rests his hands on her thighs, having absolutely no problem with a half naked Felicity sitting on top of him. Then she reaches for the edge of her tank top and pulls it over her head, bearing herself completely to him, wearing only her glasses and necklace. And he’d be hardpressed to think of a time she’s looked better.

He gazes at her and Felicity blushes, looking down and pushing her hair back and out of her face. Oliver reaches up, cupping both breasts in his hands and feeling their weight. He brushes his thumb against her nipples, feeling them pebbling under his touch, and Felicity tilts her head back, closing her eyes.

Seeing her lost in the pleasure of his touch makes his dick twitch. Her eyes pop open, clearly feeling his incessant need through this jeans against her butt. She grins down at him, leaning over to place a kiss in the middle of his chest before dragging her body lower, her nipples brushing against his stomach as she goes.

She stops when she gets between his legs and reaches for the zipper of his pants. She has them undone and halfway down his legs before he speaks up.

“Felicity…” He intends to tell her that it’s not necessary, even though his body is screaming that it is.

But she leans over him, her face right in front of his. “Remember you have to keep quiet.” She reminds him with a saucy grin.

Before he can say anything else, she kisses him quickly. When she pulls away, she shoots him one of her disarming winks before leaning back to pull down his boxers and rest of his pants.

His straining erection jumps when she wraps her small hand around his base. He sucks in a heavy breath and she slowly starts to move her fist up and down his hard length, looking at him through her lashes.

Oliver fears that the image alone, of Felicity naked between his legs, will make him cum. She tucks her hair behind her ear and leans down, wrapping her mouth around just his tip and sucking.

“Felicity,” Oliver groans, stopping his hand from reaching out for her.

“Shh.” She whispers against his tip before she opens her mouth and takes him completely.

Oliver closes his eyes shut, leaning his head back as she engulfs him in her warm wet mouth. Felicity tightens her hold on his base as she starts to move him in and out of her mouth.

With his eyes closed, every move she makes, every breath against his pelvis, feels heightened. But when he feels the tip of her tongue running along the vein, his eyes flash open. And if he thought what he saw before would end him, he’s not ready for this. Felicity, with her mouth full of him, locks gazes with him through her glasses. He always knew Felicity Smoak was perfect, but this just further cements that idea.

“Fuck….”

Felicity smiles around him, forcing him deeper into her mouth and his hand fists in her bedspread, needing something to ground him. She hums around his length, the vibrations shaking him to his core and causing him to thrust involuntarily. He makes a move to apologize but Felicity nods her head, giving him her blessing.

He keeps thrusting, albeit carefully, mindful not to hurt her. And when she tightens her throat around him he has to bite down on his lip to keep from shouting at how good that feels. Felicity reaches down, caressing his balls and Oliver starts to feel that tingling in the base of his spine.

“Felicity…fuck, I’m close, I’m going to…”

He tries to hold himself as still as possible so she can pull off of him but when he looks down he sees she has no intention of leaving. Her blue eyes gleam at him as she smiles around him, nodding once.

“You sure?” He asks, his voice tight with how he’s holding himself back.

She hums around him and it’s the only confirmation he needs before he starts thrusting into her mouth again, ready to find his release. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take long. There’s only so much Oliver can take of Felicity’s mouth and small warm hand before he’s bursting, spilling down her throat.

Felicity seems determined to take it all, keeping her mouth on him even after the pulsing of his cock fades. When she finally pulls away, she takes a deep breath and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

Oliver’s heart is hammering in his chest when he looks at her. Now it’s her turn to smile cockily as she watches him try to regain his wits. She slides her body up towards his on the bed.

“So… how was that?”

Oliver shakes his head, playing with the ends of her hair. “Felicity, you never cease to amaze me.”

She rolls her eyes, but a light blush tints her cheeks, “Well I think you’re a bit bias.”

“Maybe,” he allows, shrugging, “but it doesn’t make it less true.”

Felicity takes his face between her hands, kissing him firmly. He returns the kiss, wrapping his arms around her back before she pulls away suddenly.

“Wow, I just realized how differently this would have turned out if Alena had come back with me.”

They both peer of at the bed belonging to the girl in question, just on the other side of the room.

“I knew she wasn’t here.” Oliver tells her.

She turns back sharply to look at him, eyebrows curving in question.

He shrugs, looking down for a moment. “I asked Curtis and he told me she was coming back on the bus with the rest of the team in the morning.”

“You texted Curtis?”

He nods.

“What happened to you not having planned that far ahead?”

“Well, I wanted to make sure the room was cleared so I could tell you what I needed to say. And, just in case you kicked me out, I didn’t want any witnesses to my humiliation. But I had a feeling the cards were stacked in my favor and it wouldn’t come to that…”

“Oh yeah?” Felicity asks, her eyebrows spiking up. “You wanna bet?”

“From where I’m standing?” He glancing down at where their naked bodies are pressed together, “Yeah, I’d take a piece of that action.” He says cheekily.

Felicity hits him playfully on the shoulder. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Maybe…” Oliver frowns thoughtfully, “but it’s your fault.”

Felicity smiles, leaning in to capture his lips in another kiss before nuzzling into his side.

—–

The sound of jingling keys stirs Oliver out of his sleep. He barely has enough time to figure out what’s going on and where he is before the door opens and the sound of footsteps and a rolling suitcase follow.

“Oh!”

The exclamation pulls Felicity out of her sleep and she wakes what a jerky, “What? Oh, Alena!”

The brunette has already turned around, hands shielding her face and obstructing her peripheral vision. At least they had the sense to pull the sheet over them before they went to sleep last night so they’re not completely on display for Felicity’s roommate.  

“Hi Oliver.” Alena says abashedly. “I didn’t know you were sleeping over.”

Felicity quickly grabs his shirt off the floor and throws it on, slipping into the engulfing quickly and pulling her hair into a messy bun on top of her head. “I didn’t either.” He tells Alena and Felicity quickly shoots him a look, telling him not to talk.

“Sorry about this Alena.” Felicity says, stepping closer to the brunette.

Alena turns around carefully, looking around her hand to ensure Oliver is covered. “I didn’t know you guys were together.”

“It’s, um, it’s new.” Felicity says, glancing at him.

“Yeah, I bet.” She grins before spinning on her heel and heading back the way she came. “I mean, I’m just going to go get food. So you guys have fun….okay, bye!” And then she’s gone, disappearing out the door.

Felicity blows out a long breath.

“Well that wasn’t awful...” Oliver says, propping himself up on an elbow.

She shakes her head, walking up to the edge of the bed. “I should have set an alarm, made sure this didn’t happen.”

“You needed your rest.” Oliver tells her, taking her hand between his. “You seemed pretty worn out.” He says cheekily.

She smacks his shoulder lightly and he grins. “Shut up.”

“Make me,” he tells her.

And sure enough she leans down for a kiss. Oliver is in wonder that this is his life now, receiving kisses from Felicity whenever, among other things…

“Mm,” Felicity pulls back with a  thoughtful smile, “we should get ready and then get food. I’m actually quite hungry.”

“Shower together?” He asks, wiggling his brow suggestively.

She shakes her head, smiling despite herself. “We still don’t have any condoms.”

“We’ll figure something out,” He says, leaning closer to kiss her again.

She stops him. “There’s something else…” At his raised brow, she continues, “We have to tell everyone else…about us.”

He smiles at the word.

“I mean this doesn’t really change much between us, right?” She implores, caressing the back of his hand.

She’s right of course. Everything still feels the same, only better. He still feels a warmth in his gut when Felicity smiles at him. His fingers still itch to stroke her hair away from her face when she’s deep and thought, and kiss her lips when she pouts determinedly. The only difference now is that he can act on those urges whenever he wants.

“Nope, not much changes.” He agrees, bringing their hands up to kiss her fingertips.

She smiles lovingly at the gesture. “Right. And, if for some reason, one of them has a problem with it, then we’ll just tell them—”

Oliver cuts her off, scooping her up into his arms and tossing her over his shoulder.

Felicity squeals joyfully. “Oliver!”

“One thing at a time Felicity.” He tells her, as he carries her towards the bathroom.

–

“Damnit!”

“Okay, well that wasn’t exactly the reaction we were hoping for…” Felicity glances up at Oliver, their linked hands between them.

Sara shakes her head, looking at them. “No I mean I’m happy for you guys and all that, really I am. It’s just that now I’m down 80 bucks and I had my eye on a pair of awesome nunchucks.”

Oliver’s eyebrows pull together in confusion and he feels Felicity gasp next to him. “You bet on if Oliver and I would get together?” She asks incredulously.

Sara’s the picture of calm when she responds. “Of course not, silly. I bet on how long it would take for you guys to get together. And it wasn’t just me.”

As if on cue… “Aw man!” Tommy slips his backpack off his shoulder as he comes to stand next to Sara. “You guys couldn’t wait just a little longer?”

Felicity spurts in surprise, no actual words coming out. Oliver hides his smile at her expression as he asks, “So if you both lost, who else was part of the bet?”

“Nyssa?” Sara asks, as Nyssa and Diggle walk across the lawn, making their way towards them.

“Afraid not my love,” Nyssa responds as Sara takes her bag from her. “I was off by about a week.”

“Which means…”

Dig smiles, stepping up to them. “Which means I can finally afford Lyla’s christmas present.”

Oliver turns to his friend in shock.

“I thought you didn’t gamble John.” Felicity acuses.  

Diggle shrugs as Tommy reluctantly pays him. “I don’t usually, but I learned a long time ago that it’s pointless to bet against you two.”  

Oliver looks down at Felicity to find her already looking up at him. John’s right, they were inevitable, bound to happen one way or another. He’s just happy they happened sooner rather than later. He bends his head down towards her and she pushes up, meeting him halfway to accept his kiss.

The End 

[imgilmoregirl]

Vowed For Eternity (Chapter 19)

AO3 Link

Burst Of Light

There was a storm scaring people outside the castle in Avonlea, the thunders resounding loudly, the wind blowing the falls and making the weaker trees arch with its strength, but inside the princess’ chambers nobody was really paying attention to it. Belle had never truly known pain before, she concluded in that endless night. It all started with a pressure down her body which started to become higher, spreading the pain around her belly and back, burning slowly in shorter breaks at each time. She took long breaths, closing her eyes to concentrate whenever the pain came, clenching her teeth.

The princess accepted Fiona's help to stand up as her husband encircled her waist, supporting her when he saw Belle grimace with another contraction. She gripped at his arm tightly, frustrated that it was taking so long for this child to come.

"I don't remember it hurting so much the first time," Belle grunted.

"It's because on the first time you had a rather smaller baby and Rumple's potion helped your body to stretch easier," Fiona explained. “But you know, once a woman’s water break, it doesn’t take much longer for the baby to arrive, your body shall start to work soon.”

"Can I have another potion?"

"No," the fairy bounced, "it can be harmful for the child. Now walk."

Narrowing her eyes, Belle tried to fight her sudden need to slap her mother-in-law for being so ridiculously calm and authoritative when she was going through so much pain. In fact, she didn’t remember having such horrible sensations when she gave birth to Colette, she had just laid there in the bed with what seemed to be a burning ache in her stomach until the maddening need to push came.

But now there was none of this and her body didn’t appear to be collaborating to accelerate things, as the last time Fiona checked on her she told there would still be some time of wait.

"I hate you," she spitted at the fairy.

"You'll thank me later," Fiona answered walking to the other end of the room, where she had left a whole table prepared with clean cloths, water and some silver tools which’s use Belle didn’t want to wonder about.

She allowed Rumple to help her walk to the balcony, where she reclined herself breathing out and relishing in the feeling of having no contractions for a while as he rubbed at her back. The princess wasn’t feeling her baby moving or kicking now, instead it was pressing down, but with no space to make its debut to the world, what only frustrated her more.

"It's your fault!"

"My fault?" He asked, stupefied and confused. "How is that supposed to be my fault?"

Belle pointed at her round belly, angrily.

"You put it inside me and now it has to come out!"

His mouth fell open at the accusation, without believing that she was really saying those nonsense things to him.

Of course, the guilty was all his, like she hadn't participated in that child's conception or like she had totally forgot he tried to avoid it in first place, not that now Rumplestiltskin didn't love his children and wasn't eager to meet the second twin, but he had tried to prevent himself, she was the one who didn't listen to him, so if Belle wanted to blame someone for her contractions she should realise it was likely her own fault.

"You didn't drink the potion," the Dark One pointed out.

However, he regretted those words by the moment the slipped out of his mouth and he saw the anger become clearer in Belle's face, the imp swore the look she was giving him was capable of setting someone on fire and turn the person into ashes right on her feet.

"Are you trying to blame me?" She asked in a dangerously slow voice.

"No, sweetheart," he immediately denied, not wanting to start a big argument when their child was about to be born, "of course not."

Opening her mouth, Belle seemed about to snap another couple of harsh words at him, but suddenly she shrunk, closing her eyes very tightly.

"Ah, there is another contraction coming," his wife murmured in an puffy voice.

"Do you want to sit?"

"No, no," Belle shooked her head, leaning against the handrail. "I'm fine."

However, every time her pain came Rumple felt like his heart was being smashed in agony, to see the suffering appearing in her face.

"You don't look fine."

"I'm not," she panted.

"But, you said - "

"Shut up," Belle yelled, angrily. "Go get me some water."

And just like that the terrifying Dark One, was sent away by his little wife, frustrated with the pains of the labour. He wished he could help her somehow, but Fiona had forbidden any potions and said that magic would be no good in that moment, because none of them wanted to pay any prices just now. The imp might not trust his mother a bit, but he knew that she at least was a talented midwife and would never let anything happen to her grandchildren, as he could see in her eyes how much she cared for them.

Actually, Rumple also saw how much Fiona cared for him, but he made himself blind to this, because he didn’t want to believe in her motherly love, not after the terrible life he had because of her. He approached the fairy anyway, watching as she worked in setting things ready for the birth and stretched a hand to grab the water jar and pour some in a cup for Belle.

"It is going to be a long night, my son," Fiona murmured distractedly.

He swallowed hard, lifting his reptilian glance to her, with some fear shining in his eyes, as he couldn’t think about having to deal with this angry psychotic Belle for more than another couple of minutes.

"It will take the whole night?"

"If we are lucky," his mother answered with a little laugh. "I've seen women stay in labour for two days before the babe came."

What Fiona didn’t say was that Belle probably wouldn’t reach the morning without having her child in her arms, but seeing her son panic was rather funny and helped distract her.

"May the gods help us all," Rumplestiltskin whispered, even though he wasn’t one to pray to any gods.

But in this night, well in this night he would beg to anyone that could hep him for this childbirth to be quickly and successful. However, the only thing that truly mattered now was time, because all they could do was to wait.

A couple of hours later, king Maurice appeared on their door with a squealing Colette in his arms, crying loudly, hungry and desperate. He didn’t know what to do or if he should send someone to fetch a wet-nurse for her, but the Dark One told him it was better if nobody saw the baby girl, then he took her from the king’s arms and brought her to Belle, that was curled on the bed, trying to deal with her now more constant and horrible pain.

“My love,” he murmured stroking her hair. “I’m so sorry to disturb you, but our daughter is hungry. Do you think you can feed her?”

No answer came from the princess, she just closed her eyes more tightly and allowed him to hold the baby closer enough so she could get her late-night meal, before he dragged her away, soothing the little one to make her sleep as he walked back to where king Maurice was, impatiently waiting.

"Here,” Rumplestiltskin said, laying the babe in his arms. “Now that Colette is fed, I think you can handle her."

"Uh, yeah,” Maurice answered, struggling to fit something so little as his granddaughter in his big embrace. His palm was twice her tiny head and he felt that if he didn’t take the right care, he would break her. “I don't believe she will cause any trouble."

Fiona went back inside Belle’s chambers and Rumple hurried to do the same, closing the door behind him and walking towards the bed, where he took a seat beside his wife, looking away as the fairy started to exam her. Suddenly, Fiona stood up, quickly reaching for the things she had separated earlier and bringing them to bed, placing the items there as parting Belle’s knees.

"She is ready."

"No,” the princess whispered weakly, “she is not."

"Come on, Belle,” Fiona gave her a sceptical glance, “you're braver than that."

Belle wanted to scream at her saying that Fiona was so damn wrong that she couldn’t even begin to tell, but there was a part of her, the logic one, that knew once her child was out, the pain would pass, like it simply had never been there before and it kind of gave her some strength. She nodded at her mother-in-law, adjusting herself on the pillows and grabbing Rumple’s hand. It didn’t matter if she wanted to do it or not, now she had to, so that’s what Belle did, taking Fiona’s commands and thinking about holding her child.

She clenched her teeth, holding the screams of pain whenever she pushed, the drops of sweat sliding down her now reddish face as Fiona kept encouraging Belle to go ahead, which only made her want to punch the fairy, because optimism was the last thing somebody in pain wanted to hear, but finally it got to its end, when she felt herself get strangely empty and her mother-in-law received the baby in her arms.

Allowing herself to fall against the pillows, all Belle could do for a long moment was to pant as she heard, full of relief her child’s cries filling the room. She had been fearing this moment for so long, thinking that maybe the baby wasn’t going to cry, just like what happened when its sister was born, and yet there was that amazing sound, guarantying her that it was alive.

"Is she alright?" Belle asked as her husband petted her hair with the brightest smile she had ever seen, taking his face.

"He” Fiona corrected, “is very beautiful."

The fairy laid the new-born on its mother’s chest. A little boy, certainly bigger than Colette, squealing until he felt the first contacts with the skin of his mother’s hand, that gently caressed his bareback, slowly calming him down and causing him to open his big brown eyes and bring his small fist up, his mouth sucking at it with soft little noises. Fiona was right, he was perfect.

"Oh," the princess gasped, tears streaming freely down her cheeks as sobs started to erupt from her throat.

"Sweetheart,” the Dark One started, his voice full of concern, “what is it?"

For a moment, she couldn’t answer, all Belle could manage to do was to cry as she stroked her baby’s back repeatedly. She was happy, however, she was also in panic.

"I'm sorry, Rumple," Belle mumbled. "I'm so sorry it is a boy."

Immediately, the Dark One shooked his head, a sad expression crossing his face, because he knew this fear his wife was feeling now was not just caused by the prophecy, but also by his previous reactions whenever the possibility of the child being a boy came to his mind. Of course, he had been way gentler during the last two months, vowing to protect her and the babies, despite of anything, but Rumple still had left a scar on her heart that couldn’t just be erased this simply.

He covered her hand with his, just above the little boy which still seemed really confuse, but unlike his sister, appeared to be way more peaceful and less fussy.

"Look at me," the imp asked his wife, cupping her cheek with his free hand, gently stroking her soft skin. "Sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry about. You gave me a strong, handsome heir."

"But..."

"I love you and I love him," Rumplestiltskin remarked, taking the babe from her and nestling it in his own arms.

Fiona handed him a blanket to cover the little boy and he quickly wrapped him in the soft yellow fabric, smiling mesmerized at the child as Belle slowly stopped to cry, sniffling and wiping the corners of her eyes.

"You can give him a name if you wish so. I named our girl, now it's your turn."

The Dark One thought about it for a moment. He wasn’t expecting her to ask such a thing, and they never even talked about babies’ names, so Rumple just assumed that Belle would come up with something at the right time. But now he had to make a choice and he found it rather difficult. It took the imp some minutes, but the perfect name finally came up to him, as if it had been on his mind all the time, ready to be given to that sweet boy.

"Baelfire," he announced. "My pride and joy."

Lifting the babe up, Rumplestiltskin brushed his green-gold lips to his small brow, hearing Bae hiccup slightly before he felt the wave. It was powerful. The most powerful magical act he had ever felt, even more powerful than the True Love’s Kiss that woke Colette up from the sleeping curse.

Something started to happen to him, inside and out he could feel himself burning with renovated power as his mother and wife gasped with surprise. The room seemed to be filled by a blinding light that came exclusively from him and then, when it lighted off, it was all over.

"Rumple," Belle muttered in awe holding up a hand to touch the tip of her fingers in his now human pinkish skin. "Oh, gods..."

Looking down at his own hands, Rumplestiltskin could see the same calloused fingers of the spinner he once was and when he glanced at the full-length mirror that was placed on the wall next to him, he could see that his eyes were no longer the reptilian ones that darkness had made appear, but the same brown ones he now shared with his new-born son. He was human again.

"The boy will come and destroy what darkness created," Fiona recited. "Your love and acceptation for your son broke the curse."

"But I can still feel the magic inside me," Rumplestiltskin said, very stupefied.

"Yeah, just no longer dark," his mother laughed with happiness. "You became light, my boy."

He couldn’t contain the joyful chuckle that came up from his own throat, and when he glanced back at Belle, he saw that she had happy tears falling from her gorgeous blue eyes.

"Belle, he saved me," Rumple whispered pointing at their son.

"Yes, my love," she agreed, pulling him down for a kiss. "Indeed."

For a couple of minutes, they were just utterly and extremely happy, because life couldn’t be more surprising or wonderful.

Waiting for some news was simply horrible and Maurice hated not being in control of the situation, as he usually was, but staying there with Colette was certainly a welcoming distraction. He was really happy that Belle had chosen to give her daughter her mother’s name, because he knew if his wife was still alive she would be very proud of the fierce woman their princess had become and if he spent many time watching his granddaughter he would swear he could see some of his wife’s features on her.

Maurice hoped the other baby would born healthy and they could find a way to get themselves rid of whoever was threatening his daughter’s happiness. He looked at the storm outside his window and suddenly heard the door being open to reveal a very slim woman, with short curled hair, wearing peasant clothes.

"King Maurice," she greeted with a smile.

"These chambers are out of the reach," the king immediately said, stepping forward to cover the small crib and not allow the woman to notice it. "I thought I was clear about that."

"Oh, you were," she nodded, coming closer and toying with a thin stick in her hands. "But I'm not one of your maids."

She was right, he had never seen her around the castle and as much as he never payed a great attention to the help, he also knew that all of the maids in there wore red knee-length dresses, but this woman was wearing a long blue one.

"Who are you, then?"

"Someone who is very, very angry with the lies that had been told around this kingdom," the woman said, slowly, glancing at the baby that he desperately tried to behind himself. "You have a beautiful granddaughter, Maurice."

"Get out, or I'll call for the guards."

He was ready to do it, to take the child and run away from there, leaving his knights to deal with her, but an invisible force threw him away, making the king fall against a nightstand that broken into pieces with his heavy weight.

"Oh, no," she murmured, picking up the babe. "I need a new fairy and I think I can raise a great one. Say hello to Purple."

The woman became blue light and diminished until she seemed no more than a bug on the room, flying away through the open window with Colette in her arms, as Maurice tried to stand up, but kept falling back, because his abdomen had been impaled by a piece of broken wood.

"No," he manged to mumble. "Please, come back!"

But nobody was there to hear him anymore.

[academla]

Hey guys! I'm taking a break from tumblr etc until everything dies down, but I just wanted to say a few things. ("Few things" guarantees an essay complete with references to sociological concepts, by the way.)

First of all, I fell prey to the online game of telephone. Rather than firmly tell my friend that I didn't want to hear about it in the first place, because it wasn't really that necessary for me to know, I got angry because it was my understanding that there was legit hate going on, and not just "oh I don't like this story." Every time I was like okay okay it's fine, I heard something new that this person had apparently said about me. So it did rile me up.

To be fair I did ask my friend to not tell me, and I kind of literally told them to shut the fuck up about it bc it was making things worse, and I told them I didn't want to know or hear about it, but they admit that they felt like they had to and it was hard for them not to talk about it. Which was beyond my control. On top of that, I tend to emphasize dealing with difficult situations, because people like to see me navigate those. Because I like to navigate those. So every time I have received literal hate in the past, I've talked a lot about it and come back at the haters. Who were all anonymous. Therefore, without knowing all of the facts, I was 1. Pissed off bc I kept being told that this person was hating on me, and 2. Took that situation and magnified it almost purposefully, so that I could discuss dealing with it. It wasn't about the specific person but more about "haters" in general too. The specific person was just like, the exemplification of all haters in the world, and I wanted to combat that. My way of dealing with hate is to make sarcastic asides about it, to joke about it, and it gets over exaggerated in the process. To me that detaches it from the original source, making it less hurtful, but I realize that to others it just makes them think that person is 10 times more horrible. I kept getting feedback about this person from my friend, and I just wasn't mature enough to brush it off. Now, people seem to think that I was like "one piece of criticism and I'm OUTTA here." That's the image I projected, so that's totally my bad. It wasn't just that. I have been stressed (as a lot of people can attest) about AO3 for awhile. It stressed me out because I felt like I was writing for others, for numbers - kudos, hits, bookmarks, comments - rather than for myself. And by "others" I mean digital numbers that stand in for people. By gathering a smaller, more intimate audience, I feel less like I'm writing for some unknown... god of internet fanfiction, and more for actual people. It humanizes my audience. When I heard that this person was trash talking (apparently) my work, THAT was the last straw, and it just sort of finalized that decision. Had I not heard this "news" I probably would've inevitably taken a break anyway. I had talked to my therapist for weeks about how stressful online writing has been for me. But I did focus more than I should have on the "hate". I would definitely like to acknowledge that however I actually felt and whatever my motivations, I absolutely seem to have overreacted. I do believe that while I love the internet for many things, it has made me become more radical, because I think the unfortunate thing - and what I fall prey to a lot as well as the telephone game - is that when people are endorsing your anger in any way, you're more encouraged to turn up the dial. I was upset in the moment, and I just wanted to vent (also, I didn't publicly mention this person by name. Some concerned readers asked and I told them. One of them got especially mad. And nobody had the facts anymore.) And then in my mind the situation was detached from the one person, and expanded to include all the theoretical people in life who might hate. But I didn't present it as such. So I'll readily admit I was in the wrong in that regard. I talked to my friend and she wants to take full responsibility for having started this in the first place. It's true I do think there was miscommunication where I didn't actually check the facts or verify what exactly was being said. I was under the impression that this group of people spent time in the chat just talking shit about me and my work. This probably was over exaggerated. The internet is the devil's playground, honestly. It can make us all act like kids. And it brings out the worst. It causes total mayhem that wouldn't happen irl. (And it doesn't help when people (me) are up until 4:30 am and think they can make coherent, well advised emotional life decisions.) So, I'm still doing email lists, because I like the more personal, club type vibe. I genuinely enjoy it more, haters or no. Am I proud of how I handled the situation? No. While initially I just wanted to vent, I blew it out of proportion and I misled people and I was over dramatic without intending to be. I think I just got caught up in it. The internet is intoxicating to me and I think can be to other users: it just feels like... I don't know, but it feels gross. When you can post whatever you want and say whatever you want, it's never really a good thing. The problem is, I forget that I even have an audience. I legitimately forget that I'm not talking into the void. That people are literally reading the things that I post. I always think (god knows why) that the number of notes a post gets = how many people saw it. I don't know why. I guess I'm just not used to people "listening" to me, so I lull myself into a false sense of security where like "nobody's listening anyway." I lost my direction and I got ungrounded and that's nobody's fault but my own for not mustering up the wherewithal to be like alright homie this is getting not healthy for anyone. Please abort everything. I should have been the bigger person and simply not let it get to me. And perhaps everyone out there is now calling me a baby. But "babies" victimize themselves and try to get a cop out of taking any responsibility by doing so. I'm hoping that I'm showing my more "grown up" side by doing this and being, hopefully, the bigger person as I ought to have been all along. You know the Thomas theorem? Basically it says that "If men define situations as real, they are real in their consequences. In other words, the interpretation of a situation causes the action. This interpretation is not objective." (I say "basically", and then I quote something bc I'm too unoriginal.) That's what happens on the internet. That's what happens with gossip. I thought that I was legitimately being hated on by a group of people, so I reacted as such. Perhaps I wasn't actually receiving the level of hate I thought. Perhaps it was mostly wrong for my friend to tell me all this stuff. Honestly, this feels like middle school. I found out from a friend that some person I didn't know was talking behind my back. I overreacted. The friend shouldn't have said anything. The person still said the things they said, and still made me feel bad, so the question is whether they should apologize as well? Even if their intent was to not be found out, if they got caught, should they apologize for their part in it the way anyone would apologize if they said something rude to someone's face? That's such a classic middle school girl situation. I'm not holding my breath for an apology or acknowledgement of responsibility, though. Did I learn something? Absolutely. And I think I'll keep learning it until I stop taking everything people tell me so damn seriously (and assume it's 100% accurate), and until I just get my head back on straight.   Important to understand is that I didn't stop posting bc of one person, they were just the catalyst. I also didn't delete anything. I was in the wrong for jumping to conclusions. I was in the wrong for getting angry and not giving myself a moment to breathe. It would've been fine if everything wasn't projected on the internet. But it was. I take responsibility for that, and my friend takes responsibility for instigating this entire situation in the first place and continuing to fuel the fire. The question, as always, is where to go from here. If I could, I would call up this person and chat with them. I have a sneaking suspicion that isn't going to happen. So all I can do from my end is try to be the bigger person, clarify some things, and take responsibility for my actions. People who have called me out are 100% right! I did seem to overreact and in some ways I did. But there were also other motives (like I had been thinking about it for awhile). For the record, i don't think any of this justifies anybody hating on anybody else's work, especially when it's just amateur fanfiction for people to enjoy or toss aside. I just don't think that's cool. But I don't really know if this person "hated" on my work or not. I don't think anybody is blameless. This is not me saying "hey this is all my fault everyone come hate on me!" But I understand this was probably upsetting to the other person, so I would rather take the heat than them, because contrary to popular belief I am stable, or at least stabler than they may be at the moment. I don't wish that on anyone. No matter how angry or vengeful I get, at the end of the day I don't. But at a certain point, blame doesn't matter. What matters is keeping everything else calm. Accusations should not be thrown in any direction. This will die down. Absolutely it will. No matter how shitty, it will. I hope things get better for everyone. I hope we can find common ground once again and peacefully coexist. Someday it will happen. For now I truly feel I have done everything I could possibly do to try to rectify this situation. Thank you for all the supporters. I love you all dearly, as I always do. And thank you for the people who have been harsh and given me a slap in the face (ironically that's a very Sophia thing to do, Sophia being an apparently controversial OC of mine). Love, Edye

[kraken-spines]

Aphorisms on Love and Hate by Friedrich Nietzche (1878)

First Line: “The advantages of psychological observation.” 

This is my first venture into anything and everything Nietzche. Besides those quotes of his that get plastered everywhere. And it’s probably going to be my last. Aphorisms on Love and Hate is a collection of Nietzche’s thoughts and beliefs on marriage, morality, master/slave mentalities and pity/revenge cycles along with a few other tidbits tied in.

The Good:

His beliefs on women – Now. I know he’s sexist but reading this, as a woman, was hilarious since his perception on women is truly and utterly warped. He made me laugh a little so I’ll stick this in the good section.  According to Nietzche women are the following:

Vapid

“There are women who have no inner life wherever one looks for it, being nothing but masks.” – p 4  

Glaring

“Women, the guardians of that which is old, have also been more faithful in preserving this cultural remnant. [In reference to ‘flaring up’]” – p 19

Sacrificial Animals

“A woman finds herself the ambition to offer herself for this sacrifice.” – p 49

That’ll lock you up any chance they get.

“Women usually love an important man in such a way that they want to have him to themselves. They would gladly put him under lock and key.” – p 42

I don’t know what this says about my sense of humor.

Clearly depicts his perspective– Despite the editing obfuscating his work, Nietzche writes well and illustrates his points concisely and simply.

His view on types of friend-maker’s is interesting – His ladder friends versus circle friends is neat concept and I wish this book explained more about it.

The Bad:

Nietzche’s a classist jerk, Charlie Brown! – I’m starting to think this Little Black Classists set is a compendium of classist self-important jerks. But he literally refers to common people as slavish. That people happening upon poor circumstances are stupid. They need a strong master. And so on, and so forth. 

The formatting – This isn’t Nietzche’s fault. At least I don’t think so. But a lot of these little Aphorisms seem out of context. Like they belonged to longer passages of work and were snipped out and slapped in this little book.

His Pity-Revenge cycle- Is so horrible. There are people who think that way, there’s no denying that. But it’s an entirely unhealthy way to live amongst other human beings.

Feeling pity for someone’s suffering is worse than actually suffering – Blah.

The sentences go on and on for miles – Would love to hear a speed talker just read out the whole thing. Otherwise, there are, just, too many commas, and my, my, my, does Nietzche love semicolons, or what?;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

The Best:

Perspective – Even if I don’t agree with a grand majority of what Nietzche says. It’s interesting to see a different point of view on life, philosophy, and society.

Love as a device – I really enjoyed this bit granted, it’s not revealing anything new. Nietzche just words it nicely.

“Whoever wants to really to get to know something new (be it a person, an event, or a book) does well to take up this new thing with all possible love, to avert his eye quickly from, even to forget everything about it that he finds inimical, objectionable, or false.” – p 54

Overall: It was alright. I thought I wouldn’t like it at all let alone agree with a few things here and there but I surprised myself.

Rating: 2/5

Page Count: 55