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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years ago

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Petty Pair (Raymond/F!Reader)

Summary: Reader wants to fuck Raymond to spite his father. Raymond thinks that’s really hot, actually.

A/N: This idea came into my head and literally never left. It lives rent free in my head, and I hope you feel it now, too. Couple: Raymond/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW) Content Warning: Fingering, penetrative sex, protected sex, mild exhibitionism, getting caught Word Count: 5k

MASTERLIST

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There was a grand total of one functioning bar in this town at this hour of night. This drastic and unforgivable shortage of places for me to buy alcohol was also the only reason I found myself frequenting said bar.

After about an hour of swatting off a group of men that were objectively disgusting, I resigned myself to fate and the realization that the night would turn out no better than it would have if I hadn’t tried to get drunk on cheap liquor. I was ready to pack up, close out, and fuck off back home when it happened.

A familiar face walked through the door. Familiar, I suppose, was a stretch. I’d only seen his face in one picture – a picture I’m pretty sure was meant to be thrown away. It stuck out to me because it was the first indication that I got that Donald Wadsworth had a son. And a cute son, much less.

My brain scanned through buried memories to try and find the one where his recently divorced mother had told me his name. I knew the memory existed somewhere, surrounded under a mountain of bullshit, but it was so hard to focus when I was watching the poor kid shuffle over to the bar and plop himself down against the counter.

It had taken me that long to realize that he was wearing pajamas. Cute.

His fashion choices and bedhead paired nicely with the pout he wore when he shyly scanned the room. Altogether, everything about him assured me that he literally couldn’t have been less intimidating if he tried. That theory was further solidified by the way he shrunk against the counter when he saw me approach. By the time I sat down next to him, he’d all but disappeared under his jacket.

“Hey, you’re... Raymond, right?” The name came to me at the same time his eyes locked with mine. The dark hazel color shone almost gold in the orange hue of the bar.

“You’re Donald’s son?” I asked as warmly as possible while using his father’s name. Which is to say, not warm at all.

“Unfortunately,” Raymond droned with a similar disdain.

“I’ll say,” I chuckled as I leaned forward to match his slouch over the bar. “I work with your dad.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

That alone seemed to cause a shift in his entire demeanor. It didn’t surprise me. Most of the women in this town were brainwashed into thinking that if a guy didn’t outright assault you at first glance, he was probably a solid dude.

And Donald Wadsworth was not a solid dude.

“He’s like, a giant fucking asshole,” I said.

Raymond’s eyes lit up.

“Right?!” he shouted back, practically falling from his seat in his enthusiasm as he continued to yell, “I know!”

There was no keeping it together with this caricature of a man, but I didn’t really want to, either. In the few seconds I’d interacted with him, everything about him changed from defensive to relaxed. Like all he needed was someone to tell him that it wasn’t all in his head.

Unfortunately, I was going to need to ask something of him. But I figured he wouldn’t mind what I was going to request.

“But hey, that’s actually why I wanted to talk to you. I have a favor to ask you.” I kept my tone even and nonchalant, trying to avoid coming off as parental.

He eyed me as warily as I expected, tugging his drink a little bit closer as he started to shrink in on himself again.

“I’m gonna be honest,” he mumbled, “there’s not really anything I can do to hurt him that I haven’t already tried.”

There was no need for self-degradation. Raymond might have thought he tried everything, but from his body language around a woman, it was safe to assume he’d never tried my plan.

“Wanna bet?”

Raymond sighed in surrender before he shrugged, “Sure. What’s the favor?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

It wasn’t my intention to wait until the drink was in his mouth before I spoke, but it was how it ended up happening. And almost instantaneously, he spat the drink out over the bar before calmly squeaking, “I’m sorry, what?”

“I want to have sex with you,” I repeated like it was the most normal thing in the world. Then I sought confirmation that was only a little important in the grand scheme of things. “You’re staying at his place, right?”

“Just for tonight, yeah—" he started, but all I heard was the ding of a checkmark on my mental list that meant we were cleared for the next step.

“Great. We should do it there, then. Tonight.”

Raymond’s tongue stuck out from between his teeth, the visual of restraint matching his narrowed, shifty eyes and fidgety legs.

“I feel like I’m missing something...” he muttered.

I heard him, but I didn’t really care. The clock was running, and I was ready to get something good out of this night. Possibly even two good things, if he ended up being as helpful as his cute, submissive demeanor implied.

“I’ll drive. You want to go now?”

“I— I mean, sure, yeah,” he stumbled over the words and his own feet as he left the bar. “We can… go have sex.”

I laughed at how cool he tried to sound because he definitely failed. I reached past him to drop cash on the bar and grabbed his hand on the way back. The amount of warmth stormed it in was shocking, considering all the blood seemed to be in his face, ears, and the tent in his pants. But the comfort of his fingers interlocking with mine on instinct did more for me than he knew.

“Great. Let’s go.”

Raymond was silent on the way out and into the car, which was about what I expected from him. Every glance his way would show the gears slowly turning in his head, like he was still trying to grasp whether my proposition was serious. Like I was trying to murder him or something.

When the car started, so did some sliver of confidence in him, although he still cleared his throat before he asked, “Do you need directions, or…?”

“No, I’ve been to his place before.”

That caution and suspicion returned and multiplied, and before I even pulled out of the parking lot he had shrugged down in the seat and buried his face in his hands.

“Please tell me you didn’t fuck my dad,” he whined in the most dramatic manner possible.

I couldn’t blame him for the theatrics, although the implication was not at all appreciated.

“Absolutely the fuck not,” I spat, my face curling into a pure expression of disgust. At least we both felt similarly on that note.

“Thank god.” The relief flowed through him, allowing him to sit back up to his previously half-straight position. I decided that it was probably best to cut him some slack for assuming I would ever fuck that devil of a man, because I got the sinking suspicion that he might have known a couple girls his age that had done exactly that.

That thought led me back to the very reason I was there at all, and a chill ran down my spine as I muttered without thinking, “Wasn’t for a lack of his trying, though.”

The whole tone in the car shifted in seconds. One glance over at Raymond confirmed the repressed rage and sadness rolling off of him in waves that were more accurately described as a tsunami.

It was just unsettling enough that I snapped my eyes back to the road, giving a nervous chuckle to tell him that it wasn’t that serious. I didn’t need him to defend my honor, or anything. It did enough to quell most of the rage, but that self-pitying sadness was still there when he let out a shy, quiet plea.

“I don’t want to pry but… Will you tell me what this is about?”

“You really want to know?”

It was one thing to know the vague generalities of how much his father sucked, but another thing entirely to paint him a vivid depiction of what he was willing to do.

“Yeah,” he said with fiddling hands, “I think.”

I think he was trying to do me a favor. I think listening to my story was meant to be a sign to me that there were people who would care — people who would believe me. He clearly didn’t actually want to hear the story, but I appreciated his willingness to experience some discomfort to make up just a small part of his father’s misdeeds.

“So, I’m new at the school, right? It’s awkward. It’s a small town and everyone knows everyone,” I started, trying to look over at Raymond whenever I could to show him that I was doing alright. The poor thing looked like he needed the reassurance more than I did.

“Your dad very quickly tried to take me under his wing, despite my very obvious discomfort.”

“Sounds like him,” he interrupted with a pissed-off murmur.

“Yeah. I just kind of accepted his help because I was too scared to say no, but then one day he…” My voice trailed off, the words getting clogged in my throat and muddled on my tongue. It wasn’t that bad of a story; it should have been easier to explain. But something about Raymond being there, him listening to me so intently and with such a strong desire to make it better, that made it hard to speak. Eventually, I managed to start again. “He cornered me in the damn teacher’s lounge and—“

“Please don’t give me a reason to kill him. I’ve been toeing that line my whole life, and I will definitely do it.”

That time when Raymond cut me off, it was very clear to me that he was not kidding. He enunciated the words so clearly, venom dripping from his tongue and his chest heaving with a determination coming through clear, despite his best efforts to hide it.

He was a sweet kid.

“He didn’t try to touch me or anything. It wasn’t like that,” I said with an awkward smile, reaching over to pat his thigh. The action alone seemed to calm him, almost like a dog that was being told to stand down.

He was a really cute kid.

But I had to finish this stupid story. I had to give him all the information so that he would know exactly why I’d invited myself into his bed. Sex is sort of a big deal, you know? I mean, not always, but the other party in spite sex should probably know who exactly the target is.

“He just made it very clear that he felt I owed him something, and I kindly told him to fuck off,” I concluded just as we pulled up the dirt drive. The bumps in the road seemed to shake some other memories in Raymond, and he just shook his head to rid himself of those, along with the story he’d just heard.

He looked over at me with a new understanding and something else.

“So that’s what this is about?”

“Yep,” I said with a pop of my lips to match the sound of my car door opening. He clambered out of the car much less gracefully, which was funny considering he’d had significantly less to drink.

But I figured I would have the decency not to laugh, instead just joining him on the passenger side of the car to finish our conversation before we went inside. I wanted to give him the chance to change his mind. I wouldn’t have blamed him. Although I was the one who would have to deal with the brunt of the downfall, Donald wasn’t my family. Like, I wouldn’t be at his holiday dinners. Then again, I’m not sure Raymond would be, either.

When I looked up from the thought, Raymond was staring at me. It wasn’t like before, though. There was nothing suspicious or any sign of concern in his eyes. No, they were filled with a very different feeling.

“You want to fuck me just to spite my dad?” he asked with a deadly seriousness.

I thought about it for exactly one second before I shrugged at the extremely accurate summary.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“God,” Raymond practically groaned, throwing himself on me and pinning me against the car with his hips before he growled, “that’s so fucking hot.”

Those same lips that produced the words quickly covered mine with the same force he’d used to pin me against the metal. I didn’t fight him at first because, well, I didn’t want to. It was the first clear sign he’d given that he really wanted to do this, and who was I to argue with how he expressed his consent?

Also, he was like, a really, really good kisser. The desperation he felt came through in his tongue as it tangled with mine, drawing a quiet, muffled moan from me that alerted me to how quickly this would escalate if I didn’t shove the boy off me.

Which, I did.

“Raymond— inside,” I ordered with the little breath I had left.

He was confused for a second, almost like he’d blacked out in the meantime. But then his tongue swept over his lips, his hands digging through his pockets for his keys before he hastily answered, “Right. Let’s go.”

It made sense to be quiet then, as the two of us tip-toed through the much too large house. Our occasional giggles were louder than our feet, and the whole experience was seriously reminiscent of sneaking into your boyfriend’s house as a teenager. And when we walked through his bedroom door, the sight stirred up even older memories. From the UFO poster and alien sheets to the boxes filled with dinosaur toys and action figures, I felt like I’d walked straight through a time machine into Raymond’s childhood.

“Sorry about… all of this,” he said with an overly apologetic tone, like this scene didn’t perfectly suit what I was planning. Like it wouldn’t be salt in the wound for Donald to see me fucking his son in the most juvenile room I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Ugh, it’s perfect. You are literally a man-child.”

I didn’t mean it as an insult, but his nervous shifting told me he took it that way. But when I kicked off my shoes and started to disrobe my outer layers, it was becoming obvious to him again just how serious I was about this whole thing.

“Sorry, but—“

“Stop saying sorry, Raymond.”

“Sorry,” he squeaked back, doing the exact thing I’d just told him not to do. I shot him a warning glance and watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in return. Then, still worrying the hem of his pajama shirt between his fingers, he looked away as he asked, “Are you sure you actually want to have sex with me?”

I was a little too busy at first to answer him. I was already rustling through the bedside table to find a condom that I was absolutely positive would be there. When I finally found it, I turned my attention back to the blushing boy.

“Why are you asking? Do you want to have sex with me?”

“Yes!” he answered with a clear excitement, only to lose it immediately. “But I would have wanted to have sex with you even if my dad wasn’t a pervert.”

“Awww, thanks,” I cooed with feigned sincerity. Raymond was still just pouting, though. I was learning more each second just how starved of affirmation this boy had been. But it wasn’t like I could just start praising him; the poor thing would have whiplash if I wasn’t careful. There was no worse mood-killer than crying, either, so I settled for a joke.

“I’d probably have sex with you, too.”

“Probably?” he responded with a smile and a seat next to me.

“It’s pretty likely, depending on how much we talked first,” I explained as I helped him out of his coat. I even managed to start undoing his pajama top buttons before he realized it was happening.

He didn’t stop me when he did.

“I don’t know if that’s an insult or not,” he said, instead.

With a coquettish grin, I leaned in to whisper against his lips, “And you never will.”

There was absolutely no resistance from Raymond when I grabbed hold of his collar, tugging him on top of me as I laid down on the tiny twin bed. Despite all of his insecurity, he didn’t hesitate to kiss me again, either. This time it was somehow even more heated, like he was trying to pour all of his heart into it.

I almost warned him that he had better cool it if he didn’t want to risk getting me hooked, but I was too late. He was already busy undoing the buttons on my own top and gently kneading my chest through the fabric of my bra, and I was quickly losing track of which of us was more into what was happening.

It didn’t really matter, but just in case he was still worried that I might not want to be there, I snuck my hand down and under the waistband of his pajamas.

“Fuck!” he cursed in a hushed whisper, his body buckling forward far enough that he almost dropped all his weight on me. It was so damn cute that I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t be too loud or we’ll never get to the fun part,” I warned, my voice barely a whisper in his ear.

His very eloquent response was a breathless, “Shit.” I couldn’t blame him, though. It was honestly more than I expected him to be able to enunciate when I grabbed hold of his dick and began making soft strokes.

It was obvious that he was trying very hard to stay quiet, but the whimpers and whines were falling from his mouth so quickly that I was forced to kiss him just to muffle the noise. Thankfully, Raymond took the hint that he needed to be quiet and decided to redirect the attention from himself back to me. He accomplished that task by pulling away from me just far enough that he could grab hold of my pants and underwear and roughly pull them down my thighs. The speed and force lit a fire deep in my gut, my whole body breaking out in goosebumps as I allowed myself to enjoy just how badly he wanted me. I’m sure the spite thing had a lot to do with it, too, but it had been a long time since a man was so clearly into me. It was an unavoidable conclusion in every touch from him.

A much-too-loud moan caught in my throat when he returned, slipping his fingers into my heat as he laid another feverish kiss against my lips. But it broke almost immediately with his own choked moan, followed by a low, breathy observation.

“You weren’t kidding about wanting this.”

“Nope,” I replied quickly, trying to control the noises coming out of my mouth by replacing them with words. It only sort of worked when I keened, “Fuck, you’re better at this than I thought.”

Raymond didn’t even stop, continuing to curl his fingers inside of me with each thrust. He did smile, though. A cheeky, borderline annoying smile that told me he knew what a bastard he was being.

“Again, I can’t tell if that is a compliment,” he said with an overwhelming amount of sarcasm as he watched me squirm under him.

I chose to ignore the taunt, opting to grab the condom from the bedside table and throw it directly at his face instead. “Put the fucking condom on, Raymond.”

There was less commentary from the peanut gallery from that point on. I did enjoy the show, though. As I removed my bra, I watched with rapt fascination as he stripped himself of his clothes. My desire grew at an exponential rate at the sight of him slipping the condom on. I’d gotten some idea of the size of him with my hand, but to see something so lewd in such an innocent room and on his shy little figure was something else.

Raymond shrunk a little under my gaze, only regaining his confidence when he saw the way my teeth dragged over my bottom lip. I ran my hands over my body that was still on display for him, thoroughly enjoying the way I could make his eyes go wherever I wanted with such a simple motion.

“Fuck me, Raymond.”

I heard his breath catch and watched the shiver flow through him at the order. Sure enough, he started to follow my instructions and lined himself up at my entrance with adorably shaky hands. But then, right before I got what I came for, he paused.

“Are you su—“

I was tired of waiting. Hooking my leg around his waist, I forced Raymond to thrust forward. My assistance didn’t take any of the pleasure out of it when he was finally, fully inside of me. I couldn’t stop the way my back arched, pressing my chest against his with a wanton cry.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mumbled into my hair, burying his face in the crook of my neck as he adjusted to the new set of sensations.

I only gave him a few seconds to get used to it, fully ready to get the release that already felt so close.

“Fuck me,” I whined, already starting to roll my hips against the boy blubbering curses into my skin.

“O-Okay,” he muttered in the most adorable fashion.

That shyness was contrasted strongly by what followed. For all his whimpers and trembling, Raymond didn’t seem to mind the way the bed would creak under us. In fact, it seemed that he was playing his own game, trying to elicit as many noises from me as he could get from the bed.

On instinct, my hands rose to try to still the headboard. But to my surprise, they never made it. The man above me had grabbed hold of one wrist, pinning it against the pillow to stop me. That simple, thoughtful act was enough to almost send me over the edge right then, but I held on for what I knew would come.

My moans were another story. They seemed so inevitable, with Raymond slamming into me with a progressively rougher force until I rode that line between pain and pleasure. I could see it on his face, too, that we were barreling full speed to the inevitable.

So, it was as good a time as any for me to set the next step in motion. With full volume and a pitch nearly an octave higher than usual, I screamed, “Yes, Raymond!”

That cheeky little bastard laughed. That noise was such music to my ears, that I couldn’t just stop there.

“God, yes! Fuck me harder!” I cried dramatically while drawing out the words. In a way, I was over exaggerating for effect, but I was also actually having a great time. In fact, it was the best sex I’d had in a long time.

Raymond, catching on to the plan that I’d never explicitly explained, joined in with his own chant of my name, mixed with deep moans rumbling in his chest. I ran my nails down his back, seeking to elicit the higher pitched sounds I knew he was capable of when I realized just how much fun I was having with him.

It was also, of course, super fucking hot. But how often do you get to have this much fun with a random one night stand you found at the bar? Not often enough, I decided.

“Please, Raymond! Harder!” I begged, both in accordance with my previous moans and also because it was what I needed.

I couldn’t decide on a word to describe that wild look on his face, but Raymond had no problem following through with my request. Releasing my wrist, he sat up on his knees, grabbing hold of my hips and lifting them so that he could come down between them at a new angle.

That angle, it seemed, left him bottoming out inside of me with each brutal thrust. My legs were actually shaking around him, my back barely touching the bed as I threw my head back on that damn alien pillowcase.

The clacking of the headboard against the plaster shook the hung UFO picture, which ended up clattering behind it with about as much grace and subtlety as Raymond and I shared in that moment.

But that crashing also masked the sound of the door slamming open, just as I’d been waiting for. And for a long moment, neither of us even looked over to the light filtering in from the hallway. Instead, we locked eyes with each other as the two of us simultaneously reached our peak.

I was so, so glad that I didn’t look away. I kept my eyes firmly on Raymond as he threw his head back, forcing himself as deep in me as he could and holding me against him as I nursed him through his orgasm with my own. His mouth, though dropped open, was curved in a satisfied smile, one last moan tearing through the two of us before he promptly collapsed on top of me.

Then, it finally came. Donald’s voice bellowing, “What the fuck is going on in here?!”

—

As Raymond and I sat in my car that night, there was a much more relaxed atmosphere. Whether the catharsis was from the sex or the big fuck you to his father, the two of us were just basking in the afterglow of the overall experience.

Of course, he was also laughing at the fact I was currently wrapped up in his alien bedsheet.

“We could’ve gotten your clothes, you know.”

“There was no way in hell I was going to drop this sheet in front of that man,” I said through my laughter, my mind replaying the chaos of the last few minutes over again in my head.

“Probably a good call,” Raymond answered.

But then another thought occurred to me, which caused my face to contort into a disgusted grimace.

“You’d better go get my underwear and bra later, though. He cannot keep those.”

“Will do. Promise,” he said with a little nod that ended with him staring at me with an absolutely smitten look plastered on his face.

“You can keep them, though,” I offered, reaching over and pretending like I could actually fix the birds nest on his head.

“Thanks. I’m flattered,” he said while chasing after my hand that eventually settled on his cheek. His face was still flushed, his eyes still only half opened as he nearly fell asleep against my palm. I wondered if it was from the orgasm, or if it was just the first time in a while he’d felt safe enough to do it. He must’ve seen the worry in my eyes, because he interrupted the thought with another question.

“Did you accomplish your goal?”

I thought about it for a second, dragging my fingers down his face before I pulled back with a sigh. “I feel satisfied,” I decided. “What about you?”

Raymond also took the chance to think about it before he nodded with more enthusiasm than before.

“I feel pretty good,” he said proudly.

“That’s all? Just pretty good?” I replied with an annoyed click of my tongue. I mean, I was wrapped in his bedsheets after just helping him achieve one of the most satisfying catharses of his life, and all he had to say was ‘pretty good?’

But then I saw it, that little sparkle in his eyes that showed me he just wanted to rile me up before he gave his real answer.

“It was fucking glorious.”

It wasn’t even the words that filled my heart with pride, but the way his whole expression softened as he said it. He obviously meant it with every fiber of his being, and I couldn’t help but fall in love a little bit at the sight.

“Sorry I got you kicked out,” I said to distract myself from that dangerous line of thought.

“Not the first time. Hopefully the last,” he nonchalantly shrugged as I turned the key in the ignition. We hadn’t actually planned on what to do from this point, but I certainly had some ideas.

“You can stay at my place,” I slurred through my exhaustion, “I have a guest bedroom if you feel weird staying in mine.”

But Raymond didn’t answer. He just laughed, shaking his head and rubbing a heavy hand over his tired eyes.

“What?” I asked, a little worried I’d made a mistake.

“Nothing,” he reassured with that stupid fucking grin that was soon aimed straight at me, “it’s just… You’re asking me if I want to sleep with you. Again.”

“Yeah, what about it?” I laughed, turning to pull out of the driveway. The bumps didn’t bother Raymond that time.

“I’d love to,” he said as we turned onto the main road, his hand finding mine on the gear shift.

“Great.” Allowing the relief to flow through his hand and into me, I realized that the reason I’d had so much fun with this random one night stand was because a large part of me knew it was never going to be just that.

“You know, my bed’s not a twin, and it doesn’t creak, so…” I trailed off, hoping that he would be clever enough to put it together.

“So what?”

He was not. But that was okay, because I realized that was exactly what I loved about him.

“Never mind,” I sighed, “I’ll show you in the morning.”

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(Tell me what you thought of this piece here!)

#raymond wadsworth #suburban gothic #suburban gothic fanfic #mgg fanfiction #mgg fanfic #matthew gray gubler fanfic #raymond wadsworth fanfic #raymond wadsworth fanfiction

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falling-pages · 3 years ago

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Let me be your strength: MoriHaru

I transcribed this at 2 a.m., so it's not edited nor well put-together. But I liked it and thought it was cute, and there is not nearly enough MoriHaru content. Shoutout to @ohshcscenerios for listening to me cry about this AND for making the mood board!!!!

Summary: When the pressures of life threaten to snap Haruhi like a twig, she learns to fall into the arms of an old friend.

(AKA me thirsting over Takashi for 4k words)

Takashi Morinozuka x Haruhi Fujioka

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Talk of terminal illness

It wasn’t the champagne that made Haruhi lightheaded or twisted her stomach into knots, but she refused her second glass and sent the waiter away with a polite wave. The heat from the throngs of crowded pressed down on her, though the space was large and cool. She wished she could move outside, but the unbearable heat of a summer evening kept her clinging to her cold glass of water and air conditioning.

She dabbed at the sweat lining her brow, threatening to wash out the makeup Renge had so carefully applied. Haruhi rarely wore it, and when she did Renge always did it for her. They usually stuck together at parties, but she had slipped away as soon as they walked inside. For that, Haruhi couldn’t fault her--the ball was to celebrate hers and Tamaki’s engagement, after all.

The foundation was sticky in her pores, thick eyelashes framing her vision. She was too hot, too tired, too shifty. She tried to enjoy the party, but the source of her discomfort roared deep inside.

“Hello, Haruhi.”

She jolted, briefly, at the voice, so locked up in her thoughts she didn’t even notice the man approach her. Her old classmate towered above her, but his presence was welcome.

“Hi, Mori,” she sighed, leaning into the shadow he cast. Her skin cooled, but her heart burned at how close he was. “It’s nice to see you.”

Mori chuckled, eyes aglow with mirth. Or maybe alcohol, she couldn’t really tell. She had spent the last few minutes searching for anyone she knew at the ball, and it had seemed everyone was classily drunk on their wealth and drinks. It only added to her longing to go home, the guilt lodged in the back of the throat.

How could she be at a party when her father was so sick at home?

“Same to you,” her friend replied. His silver eyes raked down her body, taking in her dress, her makeup, her hair. His glance didn’t feel perverted, though, nor unwelcome. More like an artist working his eyes over a classic masterpiece. “You look very beautiful.”

Haruhi blushed magenta. Renge had worked her magic, lining her eyes and brushing pink wax against her lips, transforming the tired law student into a high-society lady for a night.

“Thank you,” she whispered, holding his gaze, despite every nerve telling her to look away. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

Mori inhaled. He blinked, washing his eyes anew, forcing the bourbon out of his system. He needed to see her straight, and he looked. He looked carefully. Dutifully. Rolling something over in his mind. “On you?” he answered. “Never.”

Haruhi sucked her tongue and smiled, letting herself feel beautiful, letting her insecurities dissipate under his gaze. “You know, this is all Renge’s work,” she explained. “The makeup, and we went dress shopping together.”

Mori grunted, envisioning it a precursor to wedding dress shopping Renge would surely drag her to in the upcoming months. He had to admit, the young lady did a great job -- the light green stitching against the pale yellow silk made Haruhi look like a flower in spring.

“We had to lock Tamaki in the house to keep him from coming with us,” Haruhi continued. She joined Mori’s laughter. “He still thinks of me as a doll he can dress up and play with.”

“Would you rather he had gone with you?”

Haruhi considered, squinting her eyes. “I’m not sure if he would have calmed her down or just doubled the madness.”

“Calmed her down, doubled your madness.”

“Yeah.”

“Mm.”

They shared an easy smile before Mori stepped away, by her side, to scan the crowd. Tamaki and Renge were sitting at a table overflowing with wine and hors d'oeuvres, chatting as he fed her a bit of cheese on a cracker. Both of them, likely drunk out of their minds, fell into laughter as he missed her mouth, snapping the cracker against her cheek.

“They’re good for each other,” Haruhi mused, not bothering to hide her wistfulness. “The king of excessive compliments, and the queen of backhanded ones.”

Mori noticed the lilting quirk in her voice, veering on the slight edge of jealousy. He grunted again, prompting an explanation.

“While we were getting ready, I asked her if it were too much,” Haruhi said. She sipped from her water glass, swallowing delicately. “I didn’t want to outshine the bride-to-be at her own engagement party. And you know what she said? She said, ‘Don’t worry, you don’t outshine me.’” This time Haruhi was the one to grunt, indignation crossing lines on her forehead. “Maybe she didn’t mean it like that. Maybe she meant something nice in French and it just came out bad in Japanese.”

Mori stayed silent as a waiter approached them with a tray of champagne. He reached for a flute, raising his eyebrows in a silent question to her, but she shook her head, and he refused as well.

“It’s strawberry.”

Haruhi perched her lip in question.

“The champagne.” He finished his bourbon, setting the glass down on a nearby stand. “They did that for you. They remembered you like strawberries.”

Haruhi briefly smiled, but took another sip of water. “That’s kind of them.”

Mori noticed the way she gripped her drink, the way she stared at the happy couple with blacked-out pupils. She couldn't be jealous of them individually, he knew. But of them as a couple? As a concept? Of their happy smiles?

He wanted to tell her she could outshine a thousand suns, that the golden shimmer on her cheekbone reminded him of a fairy queen, that in the lightness of her skin she could have trapped the moon. But he didn’t; he raised his fist to his mouth, cleared his throat, and tore his eyes away.

“You’re jealous,” he muttered. “Why?”

Haruhi snapped her gaze back to him. He had always been able to read her like a book, a riddle solved without explanation as the others stood scratching their heads. He looked back down at her, seeing how small she really was beside him. Confusion stirred in her deep eyes.

“Are you not?” he repeated.

She tore his eyes away from his, feeling movement in her chest. The terrifying ordeal of being known. She knew the champagne wasn’t the cause of her stomach knots, this time, either; rather, the smell of his cologne, strong and musky, left her lips parted in silent contemplation.

“I am,” she confessed. The drink weighed heavily in her hand. “They’re so carefree. There’s not a thought behind those eyes. They’re happy and don’t have stress or law school or a sick parent at home they should be caring for right now--”

Mori took the glass from her hand and set it on the table before stepping in front of her, bowing and extending his hand. She paused her rambling, just now noticing the change of music into a love song and the couples thronging onto the dance floor.

“Haruhi,” Mori said, “may I have this dance?”

Without hesitation she slipped her hand in his, allowing him to lead her onto the floor.

Just that little bit of touch sparked an inferno in his lungs, and he strained against the desire to just wrap her in his arms and whisk her away.

Once they floated to a free space, he took her right hand clasped in his left and took her waist with the other, spreading his fingers over the soft bodice of the gown.

“Is this okay?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Haruhi gasped, nearly euphoric at the feeling of his strong hands on her. She had been alone for so long that she didn’t even realize how touchstarved she was until his thumb rolled over her knuckles. Like it was right, like it was the only thing that mattered.

Mori led her in a waltz, guiding her clumsy feet with his experienced steps. He was a man so prone to the wild that she had nearly forgotten he was raised in aristocracy, trained and learned in all things fine and elegant. He probably learned this waltz as soon as he could walk.

And yet he held her with firm hands, looked at her with gentle eyes, softly correcting her mistakes without annoyance, only a speck of amusement playing in the upturned smile on his lips. He was in control, and this dance was the only thing she didn’t have to stress over. It made her want to fall into his arms and have him take care of everything else, too.

She noticed, too, his handsome features, as there was nowhere else to look but his face. He was taller now than in their youth, a broad-shouldered man of 26, heady and well-established and strong. She thought him too tall and muscled to be a graceful dancer, but she had forgotten he was a hunter, a fighter, a swordsman at his core. His suit, dark green and black, barely clung to his athletic frame. He was absolutely massive compared to her. Gone were the lanky, tall boy and flat-chested girl that once walked Ouran’s halls. Now they were man and woman at their peak.

She wondered how he had not found a wife yet, then wondered how she had never noticed him before.

He noticed, too. Every girlish feature he had adored in high school matured into ones of a woman mother nature scorns. When his fingers brushed her ribcage, she turned her attention back to his face. He was looking at her with the same intensity, but not the same recognition, like he was seeing something he had always known. His nose was noble, lips full, jaw sharp as his eyes. But what caught her attention was the scar, white against his tan face, jutting through his left eyebrow. It had healed long ago, the result of a kendo accident his first year of college, but the hair of his eyebrow never grew back correctly. The scar was turned and jilted and railed against the puckered skin, so untameable that Mori had stopped trying.

But Haruhi thought it suited him. The man could outrun the wild, but the wild would always catch up to him. The bit of evidence that he was more than what his last name got him.

Suddenly, she wanted to touch it. She had never felt the urge before; she barely noticed it, to be honest, and would never disrespect her friend like that.

But then again, he had never held her so intimately before.

Before she could, Mori cleared his throat. He had waited until she was settled in the dance to question her further, but she was staring so intently at him that he kept quiet. Had he been less tan, she would have seen him blush.

“What else is going on,” Haruhi?” he asked, turning slightly to avoid bumping into another couple.

She took a breath, disappointed that her reprieve had ended. She enjoyed looking at him. If he allowed it, she would have all night.

“You know, my dad,” she said simply, and Mori nodded, pulling her closer. Feeling his hand squeeze her made her woozy. “He’s still so sick. Not getting any better, not getting any worse. Just on the verge of needing someone to care for him at all times.”

Mori nodded again, chin hovering above her head. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he spoke. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No, thank you.” Haruhi did not miss the singular I. “Kyoya has been gracious with paying for the medical care, and for the nurses staying at our house. You all have done enough. Truly.” She looked up at him and did her best to smile, but even she knew he wouldn’t believe it. “It’s just so difficult because he needs care 24/7. So I feel guilty about going to class, guilty about sleeping, guilty about being here.” Her steps and voice faltered, eyelids fluttering to avoid tears. “I shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, tugging her hands away from him. “I should be at home, with him. He needs me--”

She tried to turn around, but Takashi grabbed her waist and pulled her to him, shuffling so she could look into his eyes. Her gaze wandered just above them--to his scar, he was sure--but he shook her very slightly, very gently, like waking a baby. “Haru,” he whispered, taking the liberty of a nickname. Her eyes flashed in pleasure, in a memory, bright with tears and charm. But her bottom lip trembled.

“You deserve a break,” he said, using his strength against her for the first time, making her look at him, to hear every word he spoke. “You have done so much. You have suffered so much. You deserve a break.”

Haruhi tried to fight him, but it was useless--he was right, and he was here, willing to provide it. Beneath her anger, beneath her sadness, there was just exhaustion, burning like a bed of red-hot coals, and she was dangling just over the edge of it, so close she could feel the hellish fumes on her face. They drew smoke up her nose, wracking coughs through her chest, burning and blistering her palms as she clung to the rope just barely keeping her alive.

Either the rope would snap, or she would.

Her father had depended on her ever since she was a child, and she had no choice but to claw her way up the frayed thread. But now her lungs burned, her fingers bled. All she wanted was rest.

She had to drop sometime.

A warm hand on her shoulder roused her back, and she looked into her friend’s steel gray eyes, now warm and pooling like molten lead. When his fingers glided along her cheek, she realized she had been crying, and wiped away the tears. He didn’t speak, only caught the ones she missed.

“I’m not strong enough,” she whispered. Her mouth twisted into neither a smile nor grimace, but a ghostly combination of both. “They were right. I’ll never be like my mom, I’ll never be good enough.” Her exhaustion poured over her in buckets, weak knees finally giving in, stumbling forward into Mori’s chest. He caught her without reservation; he had since the moment they met, and he always would.

He was strong enough to stay still when she fell, propping her back up and sheltering her against him, within his arms. He held her fastly, tightly, as she cried, nine years worth of pining and love for the taking, manifesting in front of their very eyes.

He knew how difficult it was. He had just graduated from the same law school only months prior, had the same professors and took the same classes. He himself barely scraped through at times. Even though he had given her his old books and notes, she struggled--and no wonder, having to constantly take care of her father.

“You’re right,” he said against the shell of her ear. She shivered, and he ran a hand up and down her back to soothe her. “You’re not like your mother. She ever had to carry the burden you do.”

Mori saw the weights tied to her feet, dragging her over the edge. She was going to slip, and soon--she couldn’t continue the facade of strength when she barely slept at night, barely processed her mornings over coffee, barely found the motivation to shower and brush her teeth when all she wanted was to sit at her father’s side and cry.

Maybe she thought she was concealing it well, but he was a Morinozuka, trained and battle-hardened and able to pinpoint weaknesses. He didn’t want her to hide from him.

A cold hand wrapped around Haruhi’s heart, and she pressed further into Mori’s chest. Then she realized herself and flung back, cheeks reddening at her boldness.

“Gosh, I’m so sorry, Mori, I forgot my place,” she said, keeping her eyes fixed on his very expensive shoes.

“No, no, Haru, no,” he said, scrambling for words. He cursed his silent nature. “I’m not going to let you fall. You are safe with me. I am never going to let anything happen to you.”

For a man whose strategy was always holding his cards close to his chest, he threw them down, baring his heart and soul to her mercy, desperately, as he tried to comfort her. He bent down, awkwardly long limbs sufficient in holding her, pressing her head to his chest. Her shampoo smelled so sweet, like the cherry blossoms waving just outside, and she felt so small curled up in his protective embrace. It sparked a heat in his knuckles, anger in his heart.

No one so sweet and good should have to suffer like this.

When she was ready, she moved away from his chest, accepting his willing hand wiping away her tears and the handkerchief in this pocket to hide behind until she regained her composure. Her makeup was ruined, and her hair was in disarray, but Mori thought she had never looked more beautiful than under his arm, pressing her cheek against his hand, chasing his comfort.

As soon as she smiled at him again, he took her hand and spun her back into the waltzing position. Mori built up the confidence to speak again.

“Is it alright if I call you Haru?”

A blythe smile. Pink tinged around her ears. “Yes.”

“Good.” He swallowed. “Haru, you are strong, and beautiful. It breaks my heart to see you like this. If you need to lean on someone, lean on me. Let me be your strength."

A fluttery sigh escaped her lips. “Okay.”

Mori nodded, leading her quickly back into the dance. Amazing, how many songs could be waltzed to. His agile feet knew them all by heart, so he could bask in the young lady’s presence.

Their eyes met periodically, blushes exchanged, and then gazes wandered. His traveled to the dance floor, landing on Tamaki and Renge.

They danced like two fools in love--which they were, obviously. Clumsy, falting steps, swathed in each other’s arms, mouths colliding in mismatched kisses and loud laughter. When he read their lips, he saw them chattering away in French. He saw the light pouring into each other’s eyes, both of them the sun pouring warmth through the window of the other’s soul.

He saw the way Tamaki’s bride-to-be looked at him, and wondered if the woman in front of him would spare him the same glance.

“You’re jealous,” Haruhi said suddenly. “Why?”

He turned to look at her, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Why did she use his own words against him?

She hid her smile behind her hand. “Are you not?”

He rolled his eyes, taking her firmly by the waist, as her hand returned to his shoulder.

“If you must know,” he muttered, twirling her under his arm, smiling as she giggled, “I am jealous. Because Tamaki has a beautiful lady in his arms, whom he loves, and who loves him, whom he can kiss and woo whenever he pleases.”

The orchestra suddenly roared, or maybe it was the blood in his ears when he noticed Haruhi’s hand tense in his. But, at least she didn’t drop it. She spun back into his chest, clinging to his shoulder like her grip would imprint on his suit. And when she looked at him, eyes bright and wide and full of wonder, he saw the knowing glint within.

She cocked her head aside. Her steps slowed, and she looked at him, running her eyes up and down his body as if just now realizing how long they had been dancing together.

“And you long for that?” she asked.

Mori sighed, ears pricking as the music ended. He let her go and bowed, assuming her wariness a rejection. Parallel to the floor, at least, gave him time to hide his face, regain his composure, mask the pain flowing quickly to his hands.

“Yes,” he sighed. And then, throwing all decorum out the window with a cracking toss of the head and a to hell with it for social commentary, he spoke again. “I long for it the way a bird longs to fly. And it makes me jealous of them, because I, too, had a beautiful lady in my arms, whom I love most dearly, whom I also wish to kiss and woo, but I do not know if she loves me back.”

His heart rose in his throat, and he gasped as he uttered the last words, oxygen leaving his lungs and brain at the sight of her chewing her lip. She had likely never heard him speak so many words at once. But they had clouded his mind. He had lived with them for nine years, pushed them down beneath the surface even as they slithered and crawled around in the form of blushes on his cheeks and pats to her head.

Finally, she spoke. They had stood there for an eternity, watching the other breathe. Wondering whose heart would give out first.

“Well,” she whispered, stepping forward and taking his hand, “she does.”

And then she pressed herself on her tiptoes and kissed him, just in time of the climax of the new song, in beat with the swells of strings and cymbals and trumpets, forgetting, momentarily, where they were. Takashi didn’t forget, but he couldn’t have given less of a damn. He turned off his practiced decorum, the polite manners of the aristocracy, all he had ever known, and kissed her like a man starved. Like she was his last meal, like he was poisoned and she was the antidote. It was Tamaki and Renge’s ball, yes, but he, too, deserved to be selfish for the first time in his life.

Haruhi knit her brows in concentration. His body was so hard, rough and solid and muscled from his years of training, but his lips were soft. Even harder were his practiced hands as they clung to her waist. They bunched the dress, moving and touching and exploring, and it reminded her of some exploring she also wished to do.

Without breaking the kiss, her hand wandered from his shoulder to his jaw, threading in his hair, before landing at his temple stroking the fine hairs of his eyebrow. But she hesitated. Even as her tongue was in his mouth, she was nervous.

When her fingers brushed the scar, he grunted. Though it was muffled by her mouth, the shame filled her stomach. She moved her hand back to his hair, but he grunted again, pulling just inches away to see the mortification hollowing her pupils. He pulled her hand forward, pressing a kiss to it, and replaced it where it belonged. He clutched her closer, watching in amusement as she touched as she pleased. The scar was rough and tattered, like the rest of him, but it distinguished him from the fine elegance of the ball.

She never cared for fine elegance, anyways.

Mori leaned down to press a softer kiss to her swollen lips. Haruhi’s stomach twisted into knots. How this force of nature could love her so tenderly was beyond her.

But when the song ended all too soon, he took her hand and led her to a table, snagging a glass of water for her. He whispered her name, his voice the soft type of strong that made her feel safe. “If you’ll have me, I’d like to call you mine.”

Haruhi’s mouth filled with cotton. She cautiously moved her hands up his chest, circling the knot of his tie.”Mori…”

“Call me Takashi, please,” he said, reaching down to hold her face. His thumb swiped gently over her lips, seeing how flushed and full they were. “Or you can call me Mori, or anything else you wish. It only matters to me that it comes from your lips.”

She gave off a sigh, a damp, fluttering sound from the back of her throat. “Yes,” she cooed, breathless. “Yes, Takashi, yes.”

At her perfect annunciation, Takashi swept her into his arms, lifting her high into the air, almost like the first time in Music Room Three, but this time she was smiling, and laughing, and maybe it was the candlelight and stringed musicians that made him feel so romantic, but he thought he could see forever in the way her glistening tears met her smile.

#ouran high school host club #haruhi fujioka #takashi morinozuka #mori x haruhi #moriharu #takaharu #takashi x haruhi

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annerbhp · 4 years ago

Text

Lucky

- part one

- part two

- part three

- part four

- part five

- part six

- part seven

- part eight

- part nine

Part Ten

As they settle in for their first weekend in the Burrow, Ginny is pleased to see that Ron is behaving himself for the most part.

Soon enough he and Harry seem as chummy as ever. And, no, she is not warmed by their ridiculous friendship and how happy it clearly makes both of them just to be around each other. Mostly because Ron has also done everything he can to ensure that Harry and Ginny are never alone for even a minute.

Though it’s Molly who puts a ward across Ginny’s door.

“I’m very happy for you too,” she says, patting Ginny’s hand. “But there will be no nonsense under my roof.”

Ginny bites back the impulse to ask what she means by nonsense. Or more importantly, just what kind of things Molly herself got up to her fifth year to make her so suspicious.

Ron seems to have restrained himself from teasing Harry about the ward, probably rightly realizing he would be mortified if he knew. No, Ron saves the teasing all for her, the git.

But no one is mad or upset or making Harry feel bad, so not being able to find a minute to kiss him again the last 36 hours seems a small enough price to pay. Or so she tells herself.

Ron and Harry are currently at the sink, trimming sprouts, while Ginny sets the table. Harry is filling Ron in on everything they overheard Draco say the night of the party.

Ron glances back at her near the beginning of the recitation—though whether because he isn’t certain she should hear this or because he’s questioning her loyalties, she doesn’t know, because Harry says, “Ginny was there too, she heard it.”

Harry seems glad to have someone to back him up, especially since Ron seems dubious. Not that Ginny doesn’t have to correct Harry a few times when he overstates things.

“It’s definitely suspicious though!” Harry says.

“Yes,” Ginny agrees. “It is.” She still intends to give it the proper thought it deserves, though she’s still not sure what business it is of hers, what Draco may or may not be getting up to. If he’s a Death Eater.

“I take it Malfoy isn’t shouting about his evil plans in the Slytherin common room then,” Ron says, looking back at her.

“No,” Ginny says. “He’s rarely there from what I’ve seen.”

“See!” Harry says, grabbing onto the tidbit with typical zeal. “Suspicious!”

“But I’m not there much either,” she feels the need to clarify. “So maybe I’ve just missed him.”

“You aren’t?” Ron asks. “Why not? I mean, it’s not my favorite place, but I don’t remember it being that unpleasant.”

Ginny’s eyes narrow. “When have you ever been in the Slytherin common room?”

Ron and Harry share shifty glances.

“Uh, never,” Ron says. “Just guessing, really.”

Ginny looks at Harry, daring him to lie to her as blatantly as her brother just did.

He glances uneasily between the two of them. “Our second year,” he says, Ron immediately groaning and shoving at Harry’s shoulder.

“Whipped already,” Ron mutters.

Harry glares at him. “You want me to lie to her?”

“Fine,” Ron says. “We made polyjuice to get in. We thought maybe Malfoy was the one opening the chamber.”

Ginny feels something cold slide down her spine. “Oh.” She shoves the feeling down and away. Away, away, away. When she can breathe again, she says, “Right house, wrong person, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” Ron says, having the grace to look uncomfortable. “Guess so.”

Harry’s looking at her too, but she can’t quite get herself to meet his gaze. “Well, what I’m hearing from this new tidbit is that this is hardly the first time you’ve suspected Draco of some evil plot.”

Ron snorts. “Harry pretty much suspects him of an evil plot every year.”

Harry scowls. “That’s not true. And besides, this year we already have proof!”

“One conversation is hardly proof,” Ron says.

“What about Borgin and Burke’s?”

“We all agreed we didn’t clearly see anything there. And you told Dumbledore, didn’t you? He didn’t think it was anything.”

“Which is stupid!” Harry exclaims. “I mean, the thing with Katie too!”

It does seem like a lot of suspicious things happening around Draco. But hearing that Harry spoke with Dumbledore and was dismissed is just as interesting. Unless he’s exaggerating that too. “Maybe they’re already doing something about it,” Ginny says. “The teachers. And they don’t want you getting in the way.”

Harry turns, opening his mouth with clear outrage, but she cuts across him before he can speak. “I’m not saying that’s right or okay, I’m just saying maybe it’s what they think.”

He gives her a mulish look, taking it out on the poor sprouts.

The conversation doesn’t go any further, the twins bursting into the kitchen a moment later. They come up behind Ron, arms thrown over his shoulders. “What is this we hear about you and a certain Lavender Brown?”

“What?” Ron sputters.

Fred leans in closer. “Sucking face every available moment?”

Ron’s ears burn an alarming shade of red, craning his head around to look at Ginny. “I can’t believe you told them!”

She lifts her hands. “I didn’t.”

“Oh, no,” Fred confirms. “Our slippery little sister has failed us on that account. We heard it from a very reliable source. A Gryffindor source.”

Ginny rolls her eyes.

George nods. “Third-hand from someone who witnessed it first-hand!”

“Though from what we’ve heard,” Fred adds, “there is no one at Hogwarts who has not witnessed it first-hand.”

Ron pushes them off him, beginning to look desperate. “I think you should be a bit more concerned with who Harry has been snogging!”

“Wow,” Ginny says. “I thought Gryffindor were supposed to be brave. Way to throw your best mate to the skrewts.”

But Ron’s desperate ploy pays off immediately, the twins off and running, and nothing in the world to stop them as they turn on Harry instead.

George looks delighted. “Has little Harry caught himself a paramour at long last as well? What a bumper year for Gryffindor year six!”

Fred leans into Harry. “Has the Chosen One been chosen?”

“Tell us, Harry,” George says.

“Someone slip something into your pumpkin juice?” Fred asks.

Harry scowls. “Of course not.”

“Ah, a bit touchy,” George says, looking over at Fred. “He must really like this girl. It is a girl, isn’t it?”

“Does she know what a scrawny git you are?”

“Hopefully she doesn’t assume the Boy-Who-Lived is suave and cool.”

“Maybe she’s impressed by his Quidditch skills.”

“Likes a bloke who can handle his broom.”

Harry may look like he wants to die and sink into the floor, but Ron is the one looking more and more miserable the longer the twins talk. Serves him right.

Ginny just leans back, content to let them dig a hole as deep as possible for themselves.

“Tell us, Harry,” George insists.

“What’s she like?” Fred asks.

“Easy on the eyes?”

“A scintillating conversationalist?” Fred wags his eyebrows.

“Yes, tell us, Harry,” Ginny breaks in, feeling inexplicably perverse. “Is she a good kisser?”

The twins crow in approval, giving her proud looks as she appears to jump on to the ‘give Harry shit’ train.

Harry’s the one to turn and look at her in surprise, but she just lifts her eyebrow in challenge.

“No need to be bashful,” she says, fighting hard to keep a smile off her face.

He regards her a moment, like he’s trying to figure out what game she’s playing. “A gentleman never tells.”

The twins groan.

“Nice save,” Ginny says, rather pleasantly remembering their leisurely afternoon on the train.

“Pathetic,” Fred accuses.

“Well, it’s all I’ll say about it,” Harry says, even as a slow grin curves his lips like maybe he’s thinking about it to. Ginny gets stuck staring at his mouth for a moment.

Fred hoots with laughter. “From the look on his face, I’d say that’s a strong yes.”

“A very strong yes,” George agrees.

“You guys—” Ron tries to interrupt, looking more and more pained. But Ginny has no intention of letting him help the twins out of this before she’s good and ready.

“Ron,” she cuts across him. “Don’t be a spoilsport. We all want to know about Harry’s mystery woman.” She leans forward on her elbow, propping her chin up on her hand. “Go on, Harry. Enlighten us.”

“Yes, do tell,” George says.

“We want details,” Fred agrees.

Ginny settles back to wait, more curious to hear what he’ll say than she probably should be.

“Well,” Harry says, once he realizes Ginny has no intention of rescuing him from this, “she’s definitely got a wicked sense of humor. Downright depraved some might say.”

Ginny fights hard to keep her countenance, and Harry can clearly tell, a small smirk on his face, like maybe he’s settling in to enjoy himself. It only makes her want to kiss him more.

“Good, good,” Fred says. “It’s important to find someone capable of taking a joke.”

Harry nods. “Yes, well, she doesn’t take shit from anyone either. Especially me.” He pauses, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “Best of all, she’s almost as good as I am at Quidditch.”

“Almost?” Ginny says, forgetting herself.

“Also,” Harry continues, clearly either not recognizing or just unmoved by the murder in her eyes, “even though she would deny it with her dying breath, she is just as competitive as any Gryffindor.”

“You take that back,” she says, eyes narrowing.

Harry leans against the sink, grinning at her as he crosses his arms over his chest, clearly proud to have gotten a rise out of her. “Make me.”

Ginny pushes to her feet. “Oh, it’s on. You, me, brooms, the paddock. Now.”

“Wait, what?” she hears George say, but she’s far too focused on Harry to care.

“It’s nearly dark!” Ron tries to reason. “And cold!”

“So what?” Harry says, clearly just as keen.

“Yeah,” Ginny says. “Fred and George will help you finish up the sprouts. Won’t you, brother dears?” Crossing over to Harry, she grabs the front of his shirt, tugging him towards the back door. “Harry and I have a few things to take care of.”

They are walking out the door when she hears George says, “What the hell?”

“You mean Harry and Ginny—?” Fred starts to say, voice incredulous.

The door shuts, cutting off any further conversation.

Harry shakes his head as he follows her out into the garden. “I meant it. Depraved.”

“You had just as much fun with that, admit it,” Ginny says, leading him around towards the front of the house until they are out of view of the kitchen windows.

“Depraved,” he repeats, even as he reaches for her waist, like it’s also occurred to him that this is the first time they’ve been alone since they arrived.

“And a really good kisser?” she asks, her hand sneaking up behind his neck, Quidditch already forgotten. Or rather put off for another day. She has no intention of forgetting it.

“Yeah,” he says, “not a competitive bone in your body.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“I should have added bossy,” he says, not giving her a chance to respond before he’s kissing her.

And god, it’s almost better that she remembers, her entire body tingling as he kisses and kisses and kisses her, brothers and mysteries and competitions all completely forgotten. Neither of them even paying any attention to the two soft cracks nearby as more people arrive.

“So was anyone going to tell me that Harry and Ginny are together?” they hear Bill ask loudly as he wrenches open the front door to the Burrow. “Or was I just supposed to walk by them snogging in the garden to figure it out?”

#lucky #annerbfic #yes #i am enjoying myself

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dudeandduchess · 5 years ago

Note

Heeey Jen! I just saw this cool prompt list and I thought why not? "I got dumped in your restaurant and you saw me crying and you invited me into your kitchen to make me a special, better dinner free of charge." I think this would be great with Kyojuro ;) He seems like the type to do these things and I'm not complaining XD Anyways, love your work and I hope you're doing well!

Hey hey, bby! After a long-ass time, I’m finally done with this. Lmao. Hope you like it! 😌

It took such a long time bc I omitted so many scenes from this bc they got too technical. I consciously had to tell myself, “Jen, no one is as much of a nerd over cooking food as you and your friends are. Get a grip.” But I hope this is cute enough. 💜✨

***

Kyōjurō x F!S/O: I got dumped in your restaurant and you saw me crying and you invited me into your kitchen to make me a special, better dinner free of charge (Restaurant AU, Modern AU, SFW Scenario):

There was nothing more that (Y/n) wanted to do, other than cry. Her tears already pricked the backs of her eyes, and her lips quivered even as she tried to savor the taste of the pommes puree that she’d just shoveled into her mouth.

It was smooth as all hell, and it was really reach and creamy— yet she couldn’t even appreciate how good the food was, what with the heaviness in her chest that was weighing her down.

‘Just finish your expensive-ass meal, and then you can leave.’ The young woman thought to herself, as she speared a small cut of her steak with her fork and slipped it inside her mouth. She normally liked having steak and pommes puree, but she couldn’t muster up any sort of happiness at that moment.

All because the man she had been with before, the very same man whom had left her all alone at the table without even paying for his half of the meal, had just broken up with her.

Out of all the guests inside the restaurant, she was sure that she was the saddest one. And it only made her feel even sadder, when she looked over at the other end of the room to where the executive chef was laughing up a storm with the guests at one table; because she wished that she could banish all of the heaviness inside her heart.

Meanwhile, from where Kyōjurō stood, his gaze flickered over towards the lone woman at one of the corner tables in the room. Her head was hung low, and her shoulders were slightly hunched in as she picked at her food.

The nagging feeling inside him told him to let the waiters handle it, but he had seen what had happened— as had most of the people in the dining room.

She had been dumped; quietly, yes, but dumped all the same.

He wanted to do something nice for her, but he highly doubted that sending her a complimentary cake from the pastry kitchen would cut it. Hell, he would most likely break down in tears if anyone showed him pity like that; and, as it was, she already seemed to be having a hard time keeping her emotions in check.

“Chef, you’re needed in the kitchen,” One of the waiters muttered quietly, which had him downing the last bit of wine that he’d had in his glass. He then excused himself from the table of VIPs, making it a point to sidle up near the woman by the corner.

Her eyes looked even more forlorn than when he saw them from across the room, and that had him making his mind up.

“Can you grab me one of those chairs, and put them in garde manger?” Kyōjurō asked the waiter that was right behind him, with his eyes never leaving the sad woman eating all alone in his restaurant.

The waiter nodded, not willing to go against the chef’s wishes— even if said chef was mild-mannered and had a very optimistic attitude. So, he excused himself from Kyōjurō before heading back in through the double doors that led to the kitchen— all with a dining chair in his hands.

Kyōjurō then inhaled deeply, exhaling slightly in into his free hand so that he could know if his breath smelled like wine or not. He’d just had one glass, but it still wouldn’t do to talk to a guest with alcohol on his breath.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he walked up to the table in the corner— where the young woman sat— and gently touched the back of her arm with the tips of his fingers to get her attention. “Excuse me, ma’am...”

She jumped at the unexpected touch, her head whipping up to see who it was who wanted her attention. Her eyes immediately took in the chef who was at the far end of the room earlier— schmoozing with a couple of VIPs, from the way that the servers paid attention to them.

His hair was tied back in a ponytail, and that only highlighted the sharp cut of his jaw, and the sharpness of his features— instead of retracting from them, in any way. He wasn’t even wearing a toque, or skull cap, or any form of hat to indicate his status in the kitchen; and she found that a bit weird— as most chefs that she saw on TV had really tall toques— but cute all the same.

“Oh, good evening, chef... err...” (Y/n) tried to muster up a smile, but it fell as nothing more than a simper; what with how heavy her chest still was after being so unceremoniously dumped.

“Kyōjurō. Rengoku Kyōjurō,” The young man answered with a soft smile, as he offered his hand out for her to shake.

Her gaze flickered over to his hand at first, merely staring at it, before lifting her right hand up and accepting his handshake. “(L/n) (Y/n).”

Kyōjurō didn’t even know why, but the moment that their eyes connected during that handshake, it was as if something had clicked inside him; like he’d just found something that he had been looking for all his life. Yet he mentally shook the feeling away, because it would be weird to act on his small taste of kismet right off the bat— when he wasn’t even sure if it really was kismet that he felt.

“I’m trying out some specials tonight, and was wondering if you’d like to taste them? All complimentary, of course.”

(Y/n) had the urge to ask him why it had to be her, when she wasn’t even feeling the least bit sociable— but kept her mouth shut out of respect. So, with a nod, she found herself being helped out of her seat and being guided into the kitchen.

Their hands had parted the moment she was on her feet but, even as she followed behind him inside the bustling kitchen, she could still feel his warmth lingering on her skin.

Was it wrong of her to have liked how her hand had fit in his so seamlessly? And how the heaviness inside her chest had dissipated the tiniest bit when he had looked right into her eyes and gave her the warmest smile?

She knew better than to cling on to the kindness of a stranger and misconstrue it as something else, but it wasn’t exactly easy to tell her heart to calm down. Especially when he led her over to a narrow lane that was bordered by stainless steel worktables, and low chillers.

Her eyes roved over all the ingredients that were on display in neat little containers on the countertops and, even though she wanted to reach out and touch each and every one of them, she refrained from doing so.

Because, judging by the shifty gaze that the line cook in charge of the station was giving her, her presence was completely unexpected.

“I... chef... Rengoku-san, I don’t want to be a bother,” (Y/n) whispered as she tugged on the hem of the chef’s folded sleeve.

And he turned to her with such a bright and sincere grin on his face, that it quieted down all of the trepidations that gnawed inside her. “You’re not. It’s my pleasure to have you here.”

Maybe it was just her, but the way that those words rolled off his tongue had sounded too... sensual and inviting. So she shook the unsettling thoughts off and let him guide her to the sole chair in the whole kitchen.

The to her left was what she guessed to be the salad station— based on the amount of greens and dressings that abounded the narrow space. And connected to it, in one long aisle, was the pastry section.

From where she sat, she could see two people quickly and quietly plating up plates upon plates of desserts; decadent chocolate cakes, tart cheese cakes, and so many more desserts that she couldn’t even name.

The way they worked was so mesmerizing; it was like a well-choreographed dance, as the two people there seamlessly worked to push more and more desserts out— all while the ticket printer kept printing out more orders.

“The station you’re in is garde manger; this is where all the salads and all the cold entrées come from. Right over there is the pastry section,” Kyōjurō explained patiently, as he gestured to each of the stations. Then, he stepped up to stand beside her and motioned over to the other side of the kitchen— the much bigger and more hectic-looking side.

No one laughed or smiled, as everyone was so focused on what they were doing. She could hear the clattering of pots and pans, and the sizzling of food as they were laid out in hot, oiled pans.

And when flames shot out from one pan that a cook was sautéing, she visibly jumped in surprise; which had her blushing profusely, as the man beside her chuckled quietly.

“Right over there is the hot kitchen, and this side here is the cold kitchen. Right down there is our wine cellar, so if you want a special wine tasting menu, feel free to tell me and I can have that arranged for you.”

(Y/n) could only nod dumbly at what he was saying, as she was too focused on the tempting way that his lips moved to register anything else. All she heard were the words ‘wine’ and ‘you’... so she just nodded her head and uttered a soft ‘thank you’.

“I’ll start things off with something light. Do you have any food allergies? Any dietary restrictions?”

“No. I... no. I’m good with anything, really.”

Kyōjurō couldn’t help but grin at that, as he thought to himself, ‘A woman after my own heart.’

He then tamped down the smile that threatened to form on his lips, but when he couldn’t quite hide his flustered reaction, he immediately turned away from her and made himself busy by digging through the low chillers for the ingredients for his special.

The chef worked quietly beside her, donning a fresh pair of gloves before handling the raw cut of fish that he had curing in watermelon juice. And it was as if every single one of his actions had (Y/n) captivated.

From the way that he sliced the fish into thin cuts, down to the way he plated it up in what could only be considered a soup plate... every single thing drew her in. Or maybe it was the at-peace and very warm expression on his handsome face that made her want to watch him as he worked.

Whatever it was, she knew that she was well and truly enchanted by the man that had invited her into his kitchen.

“This is red snapper crudo, cured in watermelon juice for eight hours, with a little maldon salt, some fresh micro cilantro, and some cilantro oil that we made earlier this morning. The dark brown cubes are hoshigaki from my sous chef’s farm up North, and the dots of orange are tangerine coulis.”

(Y/n) hadn’t the slightest idea what a coulis was, nor where maldon salt came from, but the dish he served in front of her looked so mouthwateringly good that when he handed her a knife and fork, she didn’t even hesitate to give it a bite.

After all of that drama earlier, she was famished; it was just a good thing that the bad taste in her mouth had already dissipated with Kyōjurō’s entrance.

She ate with so much gusto that it warmed Kyōjurō’s heart immensely, and by the end of the three-course specials that he had made up out of the fly— save for the snapper crudo that was meant to be the special for the following day— she was smiling and giggling as she chatted with the cook in garde manger.

“Your specials taste so amazing. Your chef’s really talented; I’m sure they’ll be a hit when you add them to the menu,” (Y/n) commented with a smile, as she watched Kyōjurō walk over to the far end of the pastry section and dig through their fridge.

“Specials?” The cook asked with a confused expression. “The only special we have at the moment is the snapper crudo. Chef doesn’t make a lot of specials regularly.”

“So the sous vide steak...” She trailed off, willing the other woman to finish her train of thought for her.

And, to her relief, she did. “All of the things he gave you were made on the fly... or, on the spot, rather— to put it in laymen’s terms.”

At that, a flustered smile tugged up at the corners of (Y/n)’s lips, as she covered the lower half of her face to keep everyone from seeing just how sappy the she must have looked at that moment.

But when she turned back to look at Kyōjurō— whom was getting chased out of the pastry section by the executive pastry chef herself— he gave her a toothy grin, before lifting his hand up in a pseudo wave, even though they were no more than a few meters apart.

While she, in turn, raised up the hand that was covering the lower half of her face— exposing the utterly smitten grin and the flushed cheeks that she sported.

“So, I’m guessing we’re going to see a lot more of you; if the lovestruck look in my chef’s eyes is something to go by.”

#kyoujurou rengoku x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojuro x reader #rengoku kyoujurou x reader #demon slayer rengoku #rengoku kyoujurou #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku #demon slayer kyojuro #rengoku kyojurou x reader #kimetsu no yaiba kyojuro #rengoku imagines #kny x reader #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer requests #jen writes

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tsarinastorm · 4 years ago

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Old Wounds, New Roommates- Adam Sackler/Reader-Chapter 1

Summary: Adam is your new roommate and he gets on everyone of your nerves. Nevermind the fact you had a misguided hookup phase in the past. As the hostility fades and attraction grows, will Adam finally move on from his toxic exes? And will you move on from past insecurities?

Adam wonders how he got to this place in his life: complacent. Everyone else around him had progressed but he was stuck. Even the city went a million miles a minute, never stopping for too long in one spot. He now has a sliver of hope to move forward because he’s been working on a great indie film with an acclaimed director that was about to wrap. Since then, that same director wanted him to work on his new series project to be debuted on a streaming service. Maybe this was his chance for change, to have something more, and something different. However, Jessa certainly wasn’t helping anything either: she quit school again, and has a way of keeping everyone around her down at her level. Adam supposes that it’s his fault too, he should have never came back to her after things fell out with Hannah. But he went back to her because he didn’t have it in him to end things after she let him go back to Hannah, and ultimately it was easier than being alone.

He had been hoping that Jessa would realize that there was nothing left in their relationship and end it on her own terms. She was still holding on, even after all these months. He had no ill-feelings towards Jessa but he knew they weren’t healthy together and brought out each other’s worst tendencies. At one point, he thought he had such deep feelings for her, but now he knows she was just a way to ignore his feelings for Hannah. Adam thought that he and Jessa had the intense connection that he once had with Hannah, or that they could have it someday. Now, he knows that he was lying to himself, and he mentally accepts that it isn’t fair to Jessa to string her along like this either.

When he and Jessa get back to his apartment after going out to buy the finishing supplies for the second bedroom he’s built. He’s finally finished it aside from paint. She sits next to him on the couch. He tries to think to think out how to end this, but she’s completely oblivious to what is going through his mind. He feels her hand sneak up his leg, and her lips are on his moments later. He pulls away before he makes another mistake. She must read his face because she moves away from him.

“What’s wrong? Is working on that film bothering you that much?” She asks, and Adam can tell that she’s trying to keep her cool. He also knows that there’s no easy way to have this conversation.

“It has nothing to do with the film, it has to do with us.” He says honestly, and Jessa turns to stare at him. She then nonchalantly stands up from the couch to go get something from the kitchen. She asks, “What about us?” over her shoulder from the other room. He waits until she comes back into the room before continuing.

“We can’t keep pretending that everything is good and fine between us.” Adam tells her, and he’s nervously moving his hands around. She moves to sit next to him once again, then places one hand on his arm and the other on his face. She gently turns him to face her.

“Adam, we are not pretending. You went back to Hannah, but then you came back to me, and you realized that what we have is a real, intense connection.” She tells him, clearly trying to convince him of what she believes. Adam has to tell her the truth, even if it’s an ugly truth.

“Maybe we had that one time but not anymore. I shouldn’t have come back to you once I left Hannah.” Well if Jessa was relatively calm before, she was fuming now. Adam could see her face turning red, and her lower lip quivering. However, she pulls herself together enough to ask, “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying that this is over. We’re over. I’m sorry but I can’t do this shit anymore. I want to progress, I want something more, and I don’t think we can do that together.” He says and runs his hand from the top of his upper lip down to his chin.

“’This’ is real, intense, and passionate. You’ll never have this with someone else.” She says with such conviction that if he hadn’t already made up his mind, it might have convinced him. Instead, he chooses to be blunt, because she still was avoiding the point.

“That’s the thing Jessa, I used you to escape my feelings for Hannah. And I thought I could find something close to what I had with her, with you, but I didn’t.” That definitely hits home, maybe more than he wanted it to, because Jessa jumps up off the couch with her hands flying in the air. Adam meanwhile, tugs on his hair. A bad habit he does when he’s agitated.

“This is still fucking about Hannah! I finally made peace with her, you made peace with her, so we could be together with no guilt! I gave up my most important relationship for you! Fuck you!” She screams as she picks up a lamp to throw in his direction, it crashes against the wall, glass splattering everywhere. That’s the only confirmation Adam needs to know he’s making the right decision to end this toxic relationship. He knows he has issues too but throwing shit at each other during every disagreement just isn’t normal. Though his rationality is gone momentarily when he picks up a mug and throws it against the kitchen cabinet.

“I know, but what we have isn’t fucking healthy, and it’s not fucking real. We’re lying to ourselves! We share the same unhealthy coping mechanisms, and good fucking, that’s it!” He shouts back, standing up himself, but he controls his anger enough this time to not throw anything, or destroy anything. He watches the reality of what he just said wash over Jessa’s face. Her posture becomes more relaxed, more resigned.

“Well if that’s how you really feel, I’ll leave.” She says calmly this time, and she starts packing a bag. Adam simply watches her, not wanting to give in and continue the relationship, or start another fight and make things more volatile than they need to be. Once Jessa has her things packed and lined up near the door, Adam feels the need to say something.

“I’m sorry, will you yell at me, hit me, or something.” He nearly begs, any emotion would be better than this indifferent silence she’s giving him. The disappointment and heartbreak are hanging heavy in the air of the apartment. Jessa turns to look at him before she walks through the door.

“Thank you for telling me how you feel…I’ll still be waiting for you when you get through this.” She tells him, giving him a friendly, light pat on his bicep. He nods his head, and she’s gone.

Adam looks around the apartment which now feels empty, and he himself feels lonelier than he has in a long time. But he also feels free, and hopeful. After all, sometimes you have to start from the bottom to really start over. And this is just the beginning.

********

It had been a week since the break-up with Jessa, and she had taken all of her belongings out of the apartment. Adam hadn’t painted the spare bedroom yet because he couldn’t settle on a color; he decided to wait. Today, he was heading into Hermie’s to get a cup of coffee and catch up with Ray. He was riding his bike again for the first time in a long time, and as he’s crossing the street, he collides with a woman. The woman falls on the concrete, pulls her headphones out of her ears after she catches herself and he rushes to help her up.

“Holy shit, are you okay?” He asks and quickly assesses her to make sure she doesn’t have any obvious injuries. Adam’s not prepared for who it is. It’s Y/N, arguably his biggest regret/mistake. He had hooked up with her after Hannah rejected him, and while Jessa was still stringing him along. He ended up ghosting Y/N, standing her up and choosing Jessa. What a fucking mistake that was, he thought about this mistake every time things were difficult with Jessa, and he thought if he was with Y/N would he have went back to Hannah so easily? Last he had heard, Y/N had authored at least one bestselling novel and had been traveling the world for the past year or so.

But now she was back, he nearly ran over her with his bike, and she was still pissed at him. Rightfully pissed at him. She stands up, gathers herself, and then turns toward him. “You should watch where the hell you’re going—“

Y/N stops midsentence when she realizes that it’s him. She’s clearly as shocked as he is. Adam can’t help but notice that she looks better than ever. She was always hot, but now she was hot in the grown up, successful way. Her hair is a little longer and her skin looks like its glowing. Her eyes are still bright and brilliant, though there’s a harshness in them that wasn’t there before. The only thing Adam can think to say is, “Y/N? How are you? It’s been a long time since I saw you.”

“Well, I was doing fantastic until I you almost ran me over! It has been a while, how’s your girlfriend?” She says and asks pointedly. Yeah, she’s definitely still angry with him over ditching her. And honestly, Adam can’t blame her. He wonders how much she knows about him, he met her through Ray, and he supposes that was who told her about him and Jessa.

“We broke up.” He answers and finds himself shifting on his feet nervously. He’s gotten closure over his relationship with Hannah, ended things with Jessa, is single and ready to move on, and he runs into his biggest romantic mistake? The cliché one who got away? How was this not some kind of sign from the universe that he should have been with Y/N all along?

“What a surprise.” She looks smug, she’s enjoying the fact that she was right. Y/N puts her phone in her bag and crosses her arms, staring him down. Adam wants to keep this conversation going, because fate had obviously sent him a gift. However, it doesn’t seem that the feeling is mutual.

“What have you been up to? I heard you wrote a bestseller.” He asks and she’s looks surprised that he kept up with her life. Now she’s the one that shifting her body weight from one leg to the other nervously.

“I did. Two actually. I’ve been traveling and doing promotional work but now I’m back in New York.” Y/N answers before biting her bottom lip in a way that makes Adam’s brain short-circuit. They had really connected for the short time they spent together, before he became chicken shit and chose Jessa. That was the thing about Y/N: she challenged him, would make him grow, and he would fall hopeless in love with her if they had continued. Maybe that was why he chose Jessa: they had the addict connection, killer sexual chemistry, and he knew Jessa would never challenge him in an emotional way. And getting with Jessa would hurt Hannah the most. Jesus, how had he been such a fucking idiot?

“Maybe we could catch up some time…” He says. Y/N responds quickly and coolly.

“Probably not. I’m really busy.” Then she walks away, and Adam’s left watching her go. He’ll have to find a way to reconnect with her on some level, even if she despises him. He wants to know what could have been and what still could be.

********

ONE YEAR AND SIX MONTHS EARLIER

You look around the party at Hermie’s and honestly you hate most of the people here. Ray’s a friend you met while you were visiting the coffee shop. Ray had the big election party and now was a party for people he was close with to celebrate his victory. You had met the infamous Hannah long enough ago to know you couldn’t really tolerate her melodrama. You also had met Jessa long enough ago to not like her aloofness and destructive behavior. Adam, you didn’t like at first but when Ray told you about him and Hannah, you felt bad for him. So you started talking to him when you’d hang out with Ray, and you started to like him. You appreciated his honesty and no bullshit policy. It was obvious that he was far more vulnerable than he would ever admit. And you had to admit that you were very attracted to him, no matter how much your head tried to convince you that it was an inherently bad idea.

There he was looking awkward, and slightly miserable standing in the corner. He had been talking to Jessa before she huffed away, Ray had told you that Adam had been pining over her lately, likely as a way to get back at Hannah. You approach Adam to try to make conversation.

“What was that about?” You ask motioning towards Jessa, and take a swig of your drink. You’ll not push the topic if he doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Bullshit. Of course.” He answers and looks around agitated when his eyes land on Hannah and whoever her new boyfriend is. Damn, this poor man needed an escape. This party was not your cup of tea either, so you come up with a better idea that may cheer him up and put you in a better mood. He needed to get fucked, totally wrecked.

“Want to get out of here?” You ask, raising your eyebrows at him seductively, and he nodded his yes before verbally answering, “Hell yes.”

He follows you to your apartment, and as soon as you get through the door, Adam is on top of you. His hands grip your face as he presses his lips against yours. You instantly notice how soft and warm his lips are, like plush pillows. His hands however feel like fire scorching your skin. Your tongue is asking entrance in his mouth, and he grants it. Soon the two of you are devouring each other as his hands move down your neck: one to feel up your tits, and the one farther down to squeeze your ass. You can feel his hardening cock against you, and you’re already soaking. It had been a while since your last sexual encounter and you were definitely horny. You found out that Adam was very intense, focused, and sensual when he was intimate.

The two of leave a string of clothes behind you on your way to your bedroom. Once in the doorway, he throws you over his shoulder, as if you weigh nothing, then he sits you on the bed. He’s kneeling between your legs as his fingers draw patterns on your thighs. Your fingers rake through his hair while your other hand feels the tight muscles of his chest. Adam moves upward so his mouth is now lavishing your tits with open-mouth kisses, before taking your right nipple in his mouth. His tongue twirls over your peaks, making you moan and buck your hips. As his lips suck around your bud, his fingers find your clit, drawing circles on it. He releases your nipple with a pop, then goes to the left one. His fingers add pressure, and move faster on your clit. When you’re so close to your orgasm you can practically taste it, he removes his hand from you purposefully. You groan in frustration, and he tells you, “I want you to cum on my cock.”

You lift him up to see his cock already weeping, and you hadn’t even really touched him yet. You get on your hands and knees on the edge of the bed, and lick a broad stripe up his cock. He moans in response, and his hands grip your hair. You take the head in your mouth, twirling your tongue around before beginning to bob, and your hand works his base. It’s not long before he’s groaning and thrusting into your mouth. He hits the back of your throat and you swallow. His hand then gently moves you from him, and this time it’s you who releases him with a pop.

You settle farther up on the bed with your head resting your pillows, however Adam grabs the pillows and throws them off the bed. You give him a questioning look and he says, “I’m going to fuck so hard your neighbors will hear the bed hit the wall. I want to see you bounce.”

He looks absolutely primal when he hovers over you, holding the back your thighs up, lining himself up with your slit. When he slowly sinks into you, you’re not sure which one of you is moaning more: you or him. His cock is the biggest you’ve ever taken, and you can feel him stretch you deliciously and hit spots inside you that you never even knew you had. After a few slow thrusts, he picks up the pace, thrusting into you roughly. Like he said, the bed was squeaking and then banging against the wall. Your tits were bouncing with every thrust, and his cock was dragging along your sweet spot making you groan. You think he’s getting close too because becoming more vocal and his thrusts are getting sloppier.

“Are you a dirty slut who likes my cock?” He asks watching your tits bounce as he continues thrusting. “I love your cock.” You answer back. Apparently his dirty mouth was even dirtier while he was fucking.

“Do you want me to fuck you like a whore?” He then asks, and punctuates the question with snaps of his hips. You rock your hips back into him, meeting his thrusts and tell him, “Fuck me harder. I’m a whore for your cock.”

He drills into you at a brutal pace, he’s hitting at an angle that’s both hitting your clit and dragging along your g-spot. Before you can think it, he commands, “Touch yourself.”

You follow his directions and rub vigorously on your clit. Then you’re seeing stars as the stimulation to both your clit and g-spot gives you one of the best orgasms of your life. You moan in a way that you never thought you would as your back arches, toes curl, and your pussy grips Adam’s cock.

“Where do you want me to cum?” He asks and he could cum inside because you’re on birth control but you’re feeling filthy (in a good way) so you say, “Cum in my mouth.”

“Agh fuck. Fuck.” He mutters as he pulls out and his lips are straddling your chest as he pumps his cock right in front of your face. You open your mouth, and stick out your tongue, waiting. Then his cum is in your mouth and as you swallow as much as you can, still some of it drips down your chin and onto your chest.

You’re shocked when Adam comes down and takes off towards your bathroom. What the fuck? Did I take it too far? You think, then curiously you hear water running and cabinets closing. He walks back in with a wet washcloth and he wipes your face and your chest. You smile and say, “thanks.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, pussycat. You’re something else. Hottest damn thing I’ve ever fucking seen.” He says and he cuddles up into you with his head resting on your chest and his arms wrapped around your waist.

“Yeah? Well pussycat here needs some sleep before blowing your mind again.” You say and he moves back so he’s now spooning you. The two drift into sleep.

*********

Adam was hanging out with Jessa again, even though she was trying to be clear about what they were. She was playing him hot and cold. She would say that she didn’t want anything but then she’d kiss him back. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame, a forbidden fruit. A part of him knew that she was right when she had said they would destroy each other, but maybe he thought that was what he deserved. He did fuck up everything in his life after all.

“Look, Adam I don’t know why you just don’t let this go and keep things going with Y/N? Seriously, she’s hot, she’s smart, semi put together.” Jessa tells him, and he agrees with her. That’s why he already made plans with Y/N, but he doesn’t tell Jessa. It was Jessa had already told him weeks ago that he should hook up with Y/N and see where things go.

Adam’s shocked when Jessa knocks at his door the next night claiming to have had dinner with Hannah and confesses that she wants him too. Before he knows it, he’s kissing her, and she’s kissing back. Then they’re fucking on his couch….

#adam sackler #adam sackler x reader #adam sackler x you #reader insert #adam driver #hbo girls

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teaforten · 4 years ago

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Rabbit and the Monkey Cups - (Part 1/2)

Did you need AIW fanfic? Here is AIW fanfic.

I haven’t written in a long time for this show, but it was Rachel’s birthday and I decided to turn a little thing into a big thing. But didn’t finish it, so this is part one of two.

Here’s a preview, and the rest is under cut. Tumblr wanted to put a bunch of spaces in between every paragraph and frankly I don’t have the energy to take them all out, so sorry about that.

Preview:

Wondermart was having a huge clearance sale on Halloween stuff, so Hatter and Hare were promptly there on a crisp November afternoon, to hit two birds with one stone. You see, Rabbit’s birthday was at the end of the week. How did they know? Alice had just told them. She was tagging along right behind them, actually, mentioning it in a timid fashion, because she herself was unsure what to get the bunny, or any bunny really, let alone one of his age.

“Ahhh, there’s got to be something here,” Hatter said to the other two confidently.

“You think he might want a new cape?” Hare wondered, patting at some leftover Dracula capes at the end of a costume rack.

“It’s possible. How about a skull? You think he needs one of these?” By now, Alice was squinting as Hatter plucked up a funky glow-in-the-dark skull from a shelf of cheap yard decorations.

“No, let’s get him this candy bowl,” Hare suggested, though just as he indicated it, the plastic skeleton’s hands guarding its mouth closed around his hand and gave him a serious jolt.

“You guys...” Alice started.

“I want that for myself,” Hatter told Hare.

“Hell if you’re keeping that in your kitchen!”

“It’ll be great for my cookies!” Hatter insisted, with a scowl. “Lord knows you’re not keeping me away from them!”

“You GUYS.”

“Huh?” They both turned to her obliviously, holding each side of the bowl as the skeleton hands slapped open and closed.

“I don’t think Rabbit wants leftover Halloween stuff for his birthday,” she tried to tell them, in what was the most neutral voice she could manage.

“Are you sure?” Hatter wondered. She just rolled her eyes.

“Why don’t we try, uh, some plants at the nursery, or, or a sleep mask? Some fuzzy slippers?”

Her two companions looked to each other and shrugged like she might have a point.

So off to the Wonderland nursery they went, where Alice was plucking up pots of pansies and tulips and flashing them at Hatter and Hare, who seemed not at all impressed. “I mean they’re fine if you just want something to take up space in your window sill,” Hare told her with his eyes half closed. Alice was silent, as she really didn’t see a problem with this. “Alice. Alice Alice Alice~~” Hare drawled, looking around the nursery like he was embarrassed to have to explain this to her. “When my Grandpa December was around the Rabbit’s age, he was going through his very last existential crisis, and the last thing he needed was to fill up his window sills.”

Hatter nodded emphatically. “Mhm. Mhm. That’s a mid-life crisis kind of present.”

“What we need to get the Rabbit is something that reminds him that he’s in control of his life again.”

“Right! Something that says twilight can be just as exciting as any sunrise,” Hatter chipped in, swooping his hand into the air.

“I don’t know where you’re going with this,” Alice told them.

“Well obviously--” Hatter started... then he turned to Hare, looking for some help. “Where are we going with this?”

Hare was all shifty-eyed by now. “Come. Come, my children,” he said.

In no time, they were being led to the “restricted” section of the nursery… a shady little greenhouse shack thingy-mabob… covered with vines and thorns. And the woman helping customers there looked awfully witchy. Her wiry salt and pepper hair was stacked onto her head in a bun, almost all of her fingers had a ring, and she was walking around with a hunch. It gave Alice the creeps. Hatter, too. He was trying to hide behind her, actually, and it wasn’t working out very well.

“Do you have a membership card?” She asked Hare, also looking very shifty-eyed. Hare took out his wallet and flashed the goods. Then she jerked up her chin like a bouncer who had recognized one of their own, as if to say “a’iiiight, ya’ll’s cool to go in”...

In a very interesting turn of events, it was Hatter clutching Hare’s arm and nibbling his knuckles, and Alice trailing behind them, using his coat-tails as some kind of safety leash.

“Poisonous… carnivorous…” Alice read the signs hesitantly as they passed them.

“Cadaverous… smelly?!” Hatter screeched.

“Oh, the smelliest!” Hare flapped his hands and kept walking.

“I don’t think the Rabbit is going to want a smelly plant, Mr. Hare. After all, he’ll have to keep it at the palace, and if the Queen doesn’t like it…” Alice started.

“Well then I know! We’ll get him a guard plant!” Hare concluded. Hatter seemed both extremely terrified and extremely excited about seeing which selections of guard plant this place had.

“There are plants that can guard palaces?” Alice wondered incredulously.

“Shhh, everyone be quiet,” Hare told them. They weren’t far from an enclosure where a deep crimson light was shining on a beastly looking growth in the corner of the greenhouse. At its base was an array of spikey pads clustering around even spikier shoots and bulbs -- all more or less foaming at the mouths, or whatever it had.

“What? It can’t hear us--” Alice tried to say before Hatter’s hand fell over her mouth.

“You don’t know that,” he stage-whispered without looking at her. She almost had the nerve to bite him. Evidently, Hare had immediately forgotten to show any caution once he realized what was in the enclosure because he was bursting at the seams and hopping in place like a cheerleader without pom-poms.

“Oh, WOW. They said they were going to order it in, but I HONESTLY DIDN’T BELIEVE THEM. Look you guys, it’s a GIANT CATAPULTING FLYPAPER TRAP! And no wonder they’ve got these bars: someone could fall right into that thing and they’d be a GONER,” Hare told them, tenting his fingers and grinning from ear to ear, with every possible dimple in his face showing.

“Geez, Mr. Hare. I never realized you were so, well, morbid.” Hare looked mildly surprised for a second, then just shrugged.

“Anyway, Rabbit could never handle something like this. And look at the price. Oof!” They watched Hare take out a neon green notepad from his pocket and scribble down a note. “Reminder to myself to break open the ole piggy bank when I get home. I just might have enough!”

It was Hatter’s turn to lay down the line:

“Hell if you’re keeping that in your garden!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t put it in my garden. I’d put it in my dungeon,” Hare told him matter-of-factly.

“Ohhhhh. Well in that case… just remember to show it who’s boss.” A whole lotta eyebrow wiggling and elbow jabbing took place before Alice could no longer sit with this image. She pointed at the first thing she saw.

“Uhh, what about this? This looks exciting enough. What is it?” She asked Hare, who was even blushing by now. He cleared his throat.

“Oh, those are… I think I remember… oh yes! Monkey cups!”

“Monkey cups? That doesn’t sound too scary.”

Hatter and Hare shrugged. Their minds had clearly moved on to other things. “Nahhhh, guess not! It’d probably be perfect for Rabbit - he can feed it bugs and stuff when he’s having a bad day. Hahahahhaha!” Alice frowned just as soon as he winked at her. “What? We all know he has a sadistic side.”

@ @ @

As cool as the plant was, Alice wasn’t particularly sold on the idea that Rabbit would be satisfied with just that kind of gift on his birthday, so she begged and pleaded for them to come with her to hit the nearest convenience store. They were being absolute drama kings about it as if they were in some kind of black and white purgatory hell as she perused the greeting card section for just the right one.

“Come on, Alice. How is this watercolor pastel painting of flowers any different from the other ten that you looked at?” Hatter wondered with his eyes rolled back into his head and his giant purple body slumped up against one of the flimsy card racks. A clerk nearby could now see how precarious this situation looked and was watching them carefully.

“And they all say happy birthday!” Hare chimed in as he wandered up to Alice’s side. As he did so, she noticed that he was holding the pot of monkey cups off to one side of his chest, almost as if he had been breastfeeding them or something. He also randomly had a hiccup blanket over his shoulder. She scrunched up her face for a second before she had a response prepared.

“Yes, but they just don’t have that… oomf!” Alice told them, making sort of a “glitter exploding” gesture with her hand.

The both of them repeated the word several times to each other, also imitating the gesture.

“You know. A certain... je ne sais quoi?” She emphasized, even getting on her tippy toes. Hatter tilted his head and mimed the phrase in confusion while Hare tried to pronounce it. He even handed Hatter the plant so he could sort of pop his booty out and tip his toe, while still butchering the phrase spectacularly. Alice smiled and rolled her eyes. “It’s French. I learned it from my penpal, Yvette. It means. Well, it means that you don’t know what it means. But it’s something special.”

Hatter frowned.

“Alice, do you even know why we’re here?” He asked.

“Because we’ve been trying to figure it out for the past eternity.”

“We’ve been here for five or ten minutes tops. And yes, I know why I’m-- DUM!” She hopped when she saw a familiar face pass the glass from the outside. The Tweedles were on their way to the front doors. Hatter and Hare cranked their necks as the bell on the door jingled, while Alice went to greet the twins without a moment’s hesitation, as if they were rescuing her. It would seem they might have also been whispering their hellos and other exchanges, which was just plain rude, in Hatter’s opinion, based on the way he squished up his lips. He looked Hare in the eye and nothing further needed to be said.

Just as the Tweedles were heading back with Alice to the card section, they passed Hatter and Hare, who were on their way to the door. “Oh hey, you two!” Dee greeted, followed by some timid waving by Dum. “Hey guys, uh, we’re just gonna be going,” Hare told them, jutting his thumb out with a crooked smile. “It’s these poor little guys’ nap time.”

“Uhh yeah, and we’d hate to be a 4th and 5th wheel,” Hatter muttered, sort of coddling the monkey cups and shielding them from the Tweedles’ view. Hare was equally concerned about this and hovered around him, trying to put the hiccup blanket, which had a soft little cartoon cactus print, around Hatter’s arm and over the plant, going “sh sh sh…”

Dee cocked his brow and didn’t say a thing until they were gone.

Then, once they were:

“Why are they going around babying a patch of bright green dangling plant dicks?” Just as soon as he said it, Dum was seized by cackles… and more or less so was Alice. But hearing“Mr. Dee” talk like that was highly unusual.

She wanted to speak but couldn’t stop laughing and started sinking into herself. Dum had to pull her up before she hit the floor. “What?! What is it, Alice?! XD” He kept asking her.

“They’re not plant weeners!” She peeped into his ear, still trying to properly breathe again. “They’re m-monkey cups! They’re for the Rabbit! For his birthday!”

This started a whole new round of reeling between the Tweedles, which garnered the attention of the store clerk, who still wasn’t happy about Hatter leaning on all the card racks.

“Excuse me… do you three plan on buying anything?” He asked. He was old, uptight, and easy to dismiss.

“Oh yeah, sure,” Dee told him, swishing his hands before he let them fall on Dum and Alice’s shoulders. On their way to the cards, Alice tried to explain the meandering logic that had led her and her eccentric companions to and from the nursery today, with such an odd purchase.

“Well just make sure the Hare keeps the receipt, is all I’ve got to say!” Dum told her, earning a high-five from Dee.

“You guys wanna help me find something else?” She wondered, quite relieved just to be hearing sensible sentiments again. Dee thought about if he had any plans for the day.

“I’m game.”

“Yeah, so am I,” Dum said.

“A’ight. Let’s find something with some real je ne sais quoi around here and then hit that sleep store across from Just Add Sugar!” Dee turned up his nose with a smug smile like he knew exactly what he was doing. And he probably did.

@ @ @

It was five-thirty in the afternoon and Hatter and Hare were tipped back in their chairs with their bellies full of crumpets, cookies, and jam. And tea, of course. Lots and lots of tea. Beside the Hare was one of those bouncy baby seats that he periodically tipped with his foot. And inside of the baby seat was the pot of monkey cups, wrapped up in the cactus blanket. Several crumpet crumbs were surrounding it. “Do you think it liked the crumpets?” Hatter was busy scraping food out of his teeth and was probably in a food coma when he answered:

“I mean, it ate them, didn’t it?”

“I think so.”

Just then, they saw the Tweedles and Alice frolicking by, flailing shopping bags and sipping slurpees. It was an immediate outrage. Then they slam-dumped the empty cups into Hatter’s trash-can outside the gate. “Oh hi, Hatter and Hare!” Dum shrieked cheerily in a blur.

“Bye, Hatter and Hare!” Dee shouted, just as they were opening their mouths. Alice apparently didn’t even notice where they were or whose house they were passing. It just looked like she had been having the time of her life, or something.

“You know, sometimes, Hare… I don’t know about that girl.”

@ @ @

The day of Rabbit’s birthday, Hare was simply a sobbing mess, and Hatter was having to do a lot of bedraggled consoling that frankly he was not prepared for, in order to make this visit to the palace even possible.

“Come on, Hare,” he told him, trying to pry the plant from his needy little fingers. It was not unlike trying to pry a fly from a venus fly trap. Except this fly trap was worried about the fly and was sure that keeping it in its mouth forever was the only way to keep it safe. Just as it popped free from Hare’s desperate clasp, his arms collapsed in his chest and his knees hit the ground as he wailed:

“We shouldn’t have bought them so early in the week! Now they think I’m their ma, and they’ll miss me terribly!”

Hatter frowned, then realized that he was sort of petting one of them. “Hey, what about me?”

Hare shrugged as a tear pooled in his eye. “They’ll sort of miss you too.” Hatter turned to the fourth wall and just stared. “But every plant needs their ma!”

“Then the Rabbit can be their godmother! Their fairy-godmother! Ahhh? He’ll let you visit, I’m sure.” Hatter’s proposal wasn’t all that bad. Still, Hare was caught up in a moment and could only sniffle, so his partner gave him a heavy pat on the shoulder and walked past him. “Now, I’m gonna take these guys out for one last walk, and then we’ll head to the palace. Take a hit off the hookah, if you need.”

@ @ @

The palace courtyard was unusually quiet that day. Hatter and Hare were thinking there’d either be some sort of bash already started, or they’d have to get into an argument with the Queen about letting Rabbit have free time on his birthday. Instead, they found him kicked up on the chaise lounge, being fanned with a giant banana leaf by Alice. Totally oblivious to their presence, as he was wearing a thick cushy sleep mask and slurping up a tropical smoothie with an umbrella, Rabbit had more or less slipped into nirvana, or as close to it as an old servant would ever get. On the nearest table was a catalogue for the sleep store Alice had visited with the Tweedles, there were brand new, fuzzy wuzzy bunny slippers on the floor next to him, and even a gift basket filled with soaps, bath salts, and the most basic bitch teas Hatter had ever seen. Not that he would say anything.

But he had to say something, because poor ole Hare was still waiting for his hit off the hookah to kick in and had red eyes that could be seen from a mile away. He even forgot to stand and face their friends. Hatter grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him in the right direction.

“Rabbbitttttt!” He shouted at the bunny.

“Mmmmmmm...yyyyyesss???” Hold up a moment. The peaceful smile on the Rabbit’s face slowly fell as he realized he had heard the voice of someone he was sure in the past had never helped him achieve any sort of serenity. He snatched off the sleep mask. “Oh, hello... Hatter. Hare.” He was sort of leaning back and away from them now. Luckily, he couldn’t see that Alice was behind him, trying to hold it together.

“A little birdie told us it was your birthday today!”

“A little birdie?” Rabbit scrunched up his face, confused.

“He means me,” Alice said sweetly over his shoulder.

“Oh, but you’aaa~ not a bird!”

“Yeah, but she overhears all kinds of things, like a bird on a tree-branch!” Hatter explained, to which Alice nodded, “and that was the only way we were going to know it was your birthday, you secretive, sly, s-selectively friendly…s-senior citizen--”

“You had better get on with whatever you came here for, Hatta~...” Rabbit muttered, just as Hatter felt a tickle in his throat.

“Ahem! Yes.” He turned to Hare, who had been trying to blot a tear with the cactus blanket without anyone noticing. “Uh, Hare, why don’t you take the blanket off and show Rabbit this wondeeerfulll, spectaccuullar giftttt, ahhhh?” Hatter tried his best to sprinkle all the razzle-dazzle of two people onto the reveal, but no matter of twisting and twirling elicited much of a reaction out of Rabbit once he saw under the blanket. And he only had one thing to say.

“My, those are awfully phallic, aren’t they…”

Alice just bit her lip.

“What’s ‘phallic’?” Hatter questioned, not yet sure if he should feel validated or offended. Alice shrugged, as she didn’t know either. Rabbit immediately regretted that it had ever fallen from his mouth.

“Uhhh… Well what are they, anyway?” He diverted.

The Tweedles, meanwhile, had been oo’ing and ah’ing at all the boring af statues the Queen put up in one of her hallways, like really putting on an oscar worthy performance out of the sincerest desire for Rabbit to have some alone time with his gifts in that chair. When they were back to the courtyard with her majesty, however, they were having a really hard time keeping a straight face while a clueless Hatter and an unreasonably forlorn Hare waved around the bright green plant dicks monkey cups and pitched them like they were going to be Rabbit’s newest obsession.

All they had to do was step into Alice’s vicinity and make eye-contact with her and she was already giggling.

“So you see, Rabbit, this isn’t just some midlife-crisis window-sill filler… set these up at your table on bingo nights and you’ll have all the bunny ladies crowding around, knowing you’re up to something.”

“And what exactly am I up to?” Rabbit cocked his eyebrow, quite distracted by their striking resemblance to, well, cocks.

“Bein’ a plant daddy,” Hatter told him, smiling and nodding like he was very sure of himself, “to a hardcore plant that’ll eat all the bugs in your garden. Even frogs, too!”

“Ewwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!” Was Rabbit’s first reaction. Then he leaned forward and tapped one of the cups before the Queen belted from behind him.

“That’s BARBARIC.” Immediately, Rabbit fell right on his face on the floor beside the lounge, then had to prop himself up and heave a little when he realized she had been so close to him all along. “Why would you get Rabbit a gift like that!”

Hare had recoiled just as much as Hatter, but he looked more defeated than anything else that neither of them were impressed with his gift, especially now that they were his babies that he’d raised for a week. Once again, Hatter had to do the explaining, patting Hare’s hand, which was squeezing his arm, all the while.

“We thought he needed some excitement!”

“He has PLENTY of excitement around here!”

Rabbit darted his eyes around. He wasn’t about to disagree with her, because technically she was right, it’s just… it wasn’t the good kind of excitement. The Tweedles and Alice were feeling even surer about their gifts by now.

“Well then really, this plant can keep up with him, is all we’re saying,” Hatter told her, not even missing a beat. “Oh look, it already likes him!”

For the first time in the last five minutes, Hare had something to say: “It does?”

Hatter gave him a look. “Uhhh, of course it does, Hare. Hand it over. Wouldn’t want to keep these two parted.” Try as he may to sort of direct the pot towards the birthday bunny himself, Hare was sort of squeezing it close and didn’t know how to let go. Rabbit, meanwhile, looked completely flabbergasted as he sat there on the floor beneath those looming plant dongs. The Queen threw up her hands, which just elicited more of the Tweedles’ giggling.

“You have GOT to be kidding me!”

“Uhh, they mean well, Your Majesty!” Alice tried to step in, being the noble child among the group and all that. “I mean if you think about it… it’s just as silly as any other gift they’ve given him…”

“Hmph, you’re right… there’s no way this is a joke,” her Majesty answered back in a deep voice, with her chin tucked into her neck. Then all five of them just kept watching Hatter and Hare fuss over the pot.

“Hare, just let go! One finger at a time. Come on, now.”

“I’m trying!” Hare pouted.

“I highly doubt that!”

“You don’t know what it’s like to be a mother!”

“No, but I know what it’s like to live with one!”

“DON’T shame me for being an empath!” Hare growled through his tears, still with the cactus blanket thrown over his shoulder.

“Alright you two, listen!” Rabbit professed, just before he scurried to his feet and yanked at his vest, then patted a few fuzzballs away. “I’ll keep the plant for a few days and see how it goes, but I want He’a~ on call at all times! He obviously has a grrreener thumb than I~, but I appreciate your thinking of me on my birthdehh~, so I shall try my best. Ehh… provided her Majesty approves.”

They all slowly turned to her in suspense, looking somewhere on a spectrum between apprehensive and hopeful. And then there were the Tweedles, who were just about to whip out their popcorn bowls. The Queen squinted at them for a moment before she decided it was not her circus, not her monkeys. Well, hopefully.

“Fine. But I don’t want to hear a thing about it. Call the Hare if it gives you any trouble, and if he can’t help you, hohohhhh,” her eyes bulged as she cut her hands into the air, “it’s straight back to the nursery.”

“Of course, of course. Ehh… thank you.” Rabbit nodded to the Queen awkwardly before he turned to Hare and opened his hands to receive the plant. Hare just stared at him until Hatter leaned into him.

“Give Rabbit the plant, Hare.”

“Eheheheh! Right,” he said, his arms extending out with a tremble to relinquish his babies to his favorite frenemy. Rabbit took hold of the pot and tried not to cringe as the dongs sweeping over the side brushed his forearm. Try as he may to bring them closer to his chest, Hare came with them. He laughed and gave them a better tug, which prompted Hare to tug them back. Before everyone knew it they were bouncing back and forth. Finally, Hatter took Hare’s shoulders and held him in place, so that Rabbit could pluck the monkey cups out of his motherly smother, and inspect them with none of the same sort of affection.

“Eheheh, loveleh~ loveleh~~...” he trailed. “Well, I’d better- eh, put these somewhere. T-thank you, everyone, for the birthday wishes and gifts… You’re all too kind.”

“OH WAIT, RABBIT,” Hare screeched, wriggling out of Hatter’s grasp and pulling a baby bag out of nowhere.

“This is all of his stuff!” When Rabbit took it from him, his arm plummeted as if he had just taken a bag of bowling balls.

“Gee, thanks, I feel so prepared now~” He said through his teeth to the fourth wall. Then he fluttered his fingers and rolled away. Hare looked at least somewhat reassured as Hatter patted him on the back and he blew his nose.

Part 2 coming soon!...

#adventures in wonderland #fanfiction #fanfic #hatter and hare #rabbit #don't even know how to tag this #I wrote it #lmao #me and my meandering plots #rabbit gets a gift he wasn't prepared for #that is extremely phallic #and ruins the queen's life #PG-13 #hatter mentions a hookah #hatter and hare are definitely secretly a couple

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lumi-klovstad-games · 5 years ago

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Ramses-17′s opinions on Destiny 2′s cast in the unfortunate event of his Death or Amnesia

The Prompt: Your Guardian, or a character of your choice, making video logs in case they die or start losing their memories

Ramses-17:

*shuffles nervously in front of the camera*

Hey you... so, I guess I’m either dead-dead or I’ve lost my memory completely. If I’m dead, I hope I pulled a Cayde-6 and went out like an absolute badass, defiant to the end. I mean, not that I’m eager to punch out or anything, but I at least hope my death measures up to what I hope my life amounted to. Preferably, even more so, but that’s a tall order. It’s been quite a life so far.

Some notes: I hope Saint-14 is still hanging around. If he is, go say hi. Make friends with him. He’s a damn good example of the very best of us. The image of a Guardian. He’s the icon I strive to live up to -- he taught me what it means to be a Titan and a Guardian. Just don’t don’t engage in a snowball fight with him. I don’t care how tempting it seems.

Be nice to Zavala. Yes, he’s made some dick calls, I mean, really dick calls... but his one love and loyalty is the City. Everything he’s done, smart or not, kind or not, was in its defense. He just... doesn’t understand that not all Guardians are like him, I think. You can get the story of what went down between us from Ikora, Shaxx, or Reena Feng but... dammit I’m just no good at telling stories. Point is, don’t judge him too harshly. There’s a good man underneath that gruff and social ineptness. Kind of like me, I guess.

Speaking of Reena Feng... it’s taken me a while to come to terms with the girl, and the choices she made, but ultimately... she made a better call than I did at the time. Showing mercy to Kaya-Sei was absolutely the right call, and I’m glad she was there to stop me. If she hadn’t been there, I think I would have regretted my decisions forever. If it’s Ramses-18 watching? Go thank that plucky Warlock. Say 17 told you to do it. She’ll laugh it off, tell a joke to try to deflect how much it makes her feel, but she’ll really appreciate it. With luck, you’ll be best friends with her, just like I used to be.

On the note of Kaya-Sei: she’s not that different from Zavala. She’s stuck in her way of seeing the world, but she’s not a bad person. If you cross paths with her, don’t treat her like the traitor everyone says she is. You can absolutely trust her, and this is coming from me, so that’s gotta mean something. Normally I wouldn’t say “trust the personal hitwoman of Mara Sov”, but if Kaya’s involved, take her side. She’s damn well earned that apology from me. Also her judgment is much better than it looks from the outside, which is a good thing because sometimes she really looks like a moron. Don’t tell her I said that. I mean, the part where I called her a moron. Go ahead and flatter her with the bit where I said she has good judgment. Mostly because it’s true.

Quick bits: Ikora Rey? Excellent sagely counselor. If you have concerns, she has some of the best advice out there. If you’re concerned about where to turn or what to do, ask her. You won’t regret it.

Drifter? Keep well away from that smarmy bastard. Something about him doesn’t add up, and the loot just isn’t worth the risk.

Ada-9: Worth kissing up to. Her gear is second to none. Just... learn to put up with the attitude; it’s not going away.

Devrim Kay: I may not have taste buds, but his tea is so good I’ve forgotten that fact any number of times. You can rely on him too. He may not have a Ghost, but he’s every inch a guardian in my book.

Asher Mir: ...kind of an asshole with a heart of jerk. Deal with him only when you must.

Sloane: Lady gets stuff done. Can be gruff, but don’t let it get to you. She’s worth getting to know.

Failsafe: I used to stop by every weekend and play board games with her. You should too. I know she likes the intellectual stimulation and the company.

Ana Bray: Ana Bray.... what do I say about her? That she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen? That I’m grateful to have ever known her? That she’s kick ass? That she helped me discover some bits about myself before I was all... metal? Ana’s brave and beautiful and unconventional and a trouble magnet, but she’s up there with the best of us. She should be a legend, in my opinion. But maybe I’m biased. If you’re watching this, Ramses-18: go get her, Tiger.

Eris Morn: Queen of spookiness. Has a knack for knowing where we should really make our stand. You should absolutely dance in front of her. The worst that can happen is raisins. *barely contained laughter*

Emperor Calus: Bad news, and definitely that “friend” nobody should like. Steer clear.

Xur: Oh dear god, ditto. Even if his loot is awesome, he’s shifty as hell and keep an eye on him. You don’t need his gear anyway. A real Guardian makes do and has plenty of tools in every situation anyway. Whatever he’s selling, you don’t need it. Even if it is really, really cool.

Tess Everis: Shrewd woman. Offers some neat stuff, but keep your hand on your cash when you deal with her, because she’ll probably rob you blind and call it “commerce”. Cayde never did finish that investigation of whether or not she ran Eververse sweat shops in the City. You should look into that for me.

Fenchurch Everis: I really don’t think he exists. Tess 100% made him up. I mean, has anyone ever actually seen him? Like, in person? Exactly. He’s pure fiction and you need to tell Tess to knock those stupid stories off.

Petra Venj: God I hate her. But... *sighs* she occasionally makes a good point and she’s handy in a fight. Also, if you kill her, I’m pretty sure Kaya-Sei will go all hitwoman on you and you will not make it through the rest of the week so play nice, I guess.

Mara Sov: Everything I just said about Petra Venj goes triple for Mara Sov.

Mithrax: Pretty damn chill for a Fallen.

Spider: Same, and oddly trustworthy. Do not trust him anyway, just for pragmatism’s sake.

Osiris: Means well but will 100% screw you over purely by accident. Keep your distance, but be ready for Ikora to draft you into cleaning up his latest mess on a monthly basis.

Banshee-44: Ever seen an Exo with Alzheimer’s? Banshee’s as close as you get. I heard a rumor that 44 is just the amount of reboots he lost count at. Either way, he’s got a memory like a sieve, but it’s hard to find a better gunsmith. Be patient with him. He’s been through more than I could possibly know.

Shaxx: He’s loud, he’s proud, he will get you killed many, many, many times, but he’ll help you stand back up every time. He’s quality guardian.

Lord Saladin: He’s grim, but like Eris, he comes by it honestly. Make sure he adds my name to his list.

Amanda Holliday: God I love her. She’ll have more than few tales to tell you about me. Not just me, lots of interesting stuff from our recent history. I think she’s seen almost as much as I have, and in a much shorter span. I have no clue how she keeps it together, but she does, and I’m grateful.

Suraya Hawthorne: I mean, she’s a nice gal and a great ally, but I think her desk job is getting to her -- sometimes it seems like she doesn’t realize how much stuff actually happened since she took her posting in the Tower. Poor girl needs some time in the field again if you ask me.

Who else is left? I guess I should mention Caesar, my ghost. Hopefully he’s watching over a Ramses-18, who is hopefully watching this. We’ve been through some times together, and hopefully, he’s there to get you through some more. I couldn’t ask for a more stalwart partner.

I guess all that’s left is me. I’ve always been a survivor. From Twilight Gap all the way to the Crimson Spire Offensive, I’ve made it through battle after battle. If I’ve lost my memory, maybe in some way it’s a blessing. I can’t begin to tell you the things that witnessing what I have does to a mind. Sometimes it’s better to simply know what you’ve faced and overcome and not know the details. I wouldn’t choose to forget any of it, but... if I have, I’d be hard pressed to say I regret the loss. But if you’re watching this, I don’t care if you’re Ramses-18 or someone else: by watching this, you’re picking up a piece of my legacy.

Go on and make something great with it. Most (keyword: MOST) of the folks I’ve mentioned will help. But you’ve sat and listened to an old Exo reminisce long enough. The future’s yours, Guardian. Go build it.

#ramses-17 #ramses 17 #destiny #destiny 2 #destiny the game #my guardian #The Guardian #my guardians #guardian #destiny guardian #fanfic #kaya-sei #kaya sei #reena feng #reena #writing prompt

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writeyouin · 5 years ago

Note

ITS QUANTUM ANON BACK FOR MORE....I'd love to see a scenario in which Jack and the reader have a scary movie night and the reader can barely handle it, the damn movies are incredibly scary and she gets clingy when she's scared. Jack is very amused. (sounds cliché but it's me when I watch scary movies ok) Scared cuddles and dog videos of calming ensue. (also if you could please put in a tag somewhere or a little quick post saying you got this n tumblr didn't eat it that would be appreciated

Jack Joyce X Reader – Hold Me

A/N – I will never in my life apologise for making Will a meme-loving fuck. I have a big sister, so I know exactly how to be a younger pain in the ass.

Warnings – None

Rating – T

Life as you knew it had been completely changed since the incident between the Joyce brothers and Paul Serene. Although Monarch Solutions wasn’t as big of a threat as it had been before, Jack and Will still worried about what remained of it. You knew they were also concerned about the threat it posed to Will’s research, and more importantly, to you because of your affiliation with the brothers; maybe if you and Jack weren’t romantically involved, there wouldn’t be a problem, but that wasn’t the case.

Since the brothers needed to protect what remained of Will’s research, in case Monarch got any shifty ideas again, the pair moved into the old community pool building. It wasn’t long after that that Jack asked you to move in with them. Although you would have rather continued your regular life in your previous apartment, you knew it would tear Jack apart to have to watch over Will’s research and you; to spare him any worry, you agreed to stay with the pair.

To be fair, life wasn’t so bad in the dilapidated pool building. Will and Jack respected your boundaries, and even turned one of the old changing rooms into your own personal bedroom; it didn’t go unnoticed by you how much prettier your room was than their shared one which had previously housed Beth Wilder. Every little thing the pair did for you made you love them all the more, Jack romantically, and Will as a little brother.

Despite their efforts however, it was still hard for you to think of the old building as a home instead of a hide-out. You knew you were bad at hiding your emotions, but you hoped that neither of the pair would notice quite how much you missed living a normal life. Jack of course, noticed everything where you were concerned, and that brought you to your current predicament. With Halloween coming up, Jack thought he could bring the holiday to you, since he didn’t dare take you to it; with so many costumes and chaos, it would be all too easy for Monarch to pull some kind of dirty trick he couldn’t protect you from. As such, he’d just offered you a date night, filled with all kinds of the grotesque horror films he loved so much.

He was being sweet. You knew he was, and yet you wished he would stop it and return to being his usual sardonic self; whenever he was overly sweet, you knew it was because he was worried about you and didn’t want you to catch on.

“What do you say?” Jack asked, drawing you out of your reverie.

He looked so apologetically awkward that you had to smile. How could he so suddenly switch from the slick smart-talker you knew so well to someone as insecure as Will? When Jack was being this sincere, you knew you didn’t have the heart to say no to him. Yet, you also wanted him to think you were braver than you felt, which would never happen if he saw how you were during horror films. In all the years of your friendship, you had always managed to avoid the film genre Jack loved so much, claiming horror films were far too overrated, when really you were just too scared to watch them.

Now, in the relationship you had craved for so long, Jack appeared almost bashful in offering to share this piece of himself with you.

“You know what,” Jack said at your lack of a response, “You’re probably right. Horrors are overrated anyway. We don’t have to-”

“I’d love to,” You blurted, sparing Jack any hurt feelings.

His face lit up brighter than any Jack-o-lantern ever could, evidently proud at having cheered you up. “Yeah? I’ll get the movies and meet you at the projector. It’ll be just you, me, and good ol’ Charles ‘Chucky’ Monroe.”

“Great,” You grinned, then once Jack was out of earshot, “Just perfect.”

You sat rigidly on one end of the two-seater sofa while Jack set up an old film projector so it would play the movies on the entire wall the two of you faced, like a cinema would.

“So, which do you want to start with?” He asked distractedly.

“There’s just so much choice,” You answered mechanically.

“I know, isn’t it great? How about the Grudge, or maybe Saw? I bet you can find a few things in Saw that Will would probably invent himself, if he could. God knows he hates people enough to want to torture them.”

Neither choice really appealed to you, but you didn’t want to spend the next month imagining Will as a murderous sociopath, so you opted for the Grudge, whatever that was.

Not even twenty minutes into the film and you were already terrified by the evil ghost creature that haunted the screen, or in your case the wall. Every so often you would subconsciously reach out for Jack, then snap your hand back, afraid that if you let him hold you, he would feel how badly you were trembling.

You froze at the sound of heavy footsteps, though you quickly realised they were not coming from the speakers in front of you; it had to be Will, returning from the town. He came up the stairs where you and Jack were, lugging a heavy bag of shopping onto the counter behind you.

“What’s going on here?” Will asked, dropping the bag with a thud.

“Horror night,” Jack answered curtly, annoyed by Will’s sudden arrival.

“Huh, cool. The Grudge? Good choice. Not as good as Saw though,” He said a little too wistfully. “Okay, I’m in, scooch over.”

Will forced himself between you and Jack, further cramping the two-seater.

“WILL!” Jack shouted. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”

“You’re right,” Will nodded, missing the point that he wasn’t invited. “(Y/N), do you mind? There’s a chair over there small enough for you.”

“HEY! No way. (Y/N) stay, he’s gonna leave now.”

“(Y/N) stay?” Will repeated disgustedly. “(S)he’s not a dog Jack, and why do I have to go anyway? You’re the one that forgot to invite me.”

“I didn’t forget. This is a date you idiot! Get out!”

“IDIOT? At least I’m not an ingrate. You could have told me beforehand.”

“READ THE ROOM!”

“YOU KNOW I CAN’T VIBE CHECK. Then again neither can you, because you didn’t even pick a romantic horror.”

Jack threw up his arms exasperatedly, “What does that even mean?”

“Films like this are all scare. In a horror like The Boy however, there is a romantic subplot. In this essay I will-”

Jack grabbed Will in a headlock, pulling him up and dragging him to the staircase. Will flailed uselessly, trying to hit Jack’s arms. Finally, Jack pushed him away, nearly tripping him down the stairs, “Out, Will!”

Will grumbled as he stomped down the stairs, “I just came out to have a good time, and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now.”

On his way back to you, Jack shook his head disbelievingly, “Sorry (Y/N).”

“It’s alright,” You laughed, glad that the commotion allowed you to miss around ten minutes of the on-screen horror.

“Hey, this is your first time seeing the Grudge, right?”

You nodded.

“Don’t worry then, I’ll go back so you don’t miss anything.”

Dying inside a little bit, you gave Jack a quick thumbs up. As promised, Jack rewound the film, picking up where you’d left off before Will had come back. Although you longed to isolate yourself on one side of the sofa again, Jack held up his arm for you to sit under. You smiled meekly, laying against him, somewhat comforted when his arm wrapped over your side.

You thought the film had been scary before, yet with each passing minute further horrors were introduced, each worse than the last. Jack was glad you couldn’t see his face as he held back gales of laughter at your fear of the film. More often than not, he would look down to find you squeezing your eyes shut, and gripping tightly to his thigh, barely holding back whimpers.

When the film started, he had no idea you were so scared of horrors. The idea you were petrified of a ghost story and too afraid to tell him was hilarious. You had literally survived Monarch’s terror attack by his side, yet somehow the evil work of on-screen fiction was scaring you more than previous real-life encounters.

By the end of the film, you couldn’t even look at the screen anymore. You were clinging onto Jack as if your life depended on it, burying your face against his chest to avoid looking. Finally, it was over, and although you clearly couldn’t handle another film, Jack couldn’t resist poking fun at you.

“A real masterpiece,” He said, stroking your arms. “I mean, did you see the detail when the Grudge tore that woman’s jaw off? Just a quick snap and it was gone.”

You cringed, peeking up at Jack so you didn’t have to reimagine the gore in the madness of your mind.

“And what about the part with the kid in the bathtub? That is some good film making right there. Oh, but listen to me rambling on, what was your favourite part of the film?”

You desperately wanted to continue clinging onto Jack and tell him that the only watchable part of the film was the credits which were slowly rolling onwards. Instead, you mumbled agreement about the torn jaw to shut him up. You reminded yourself how excited he had been to share this with you and managed a weak smile that didn’t reflect what you felt on the inside at all.

“I’m glad you liked it,” Jack grinned, having entirely too much fun. “So, what should we watch next? I’ll even let you choose again.”

“I couldn’t possibly,” You squeaked, your throat going dry.

“You’re right, I could see your excitement there. The clear winner is the Grudge Two.”

You shivered involuntarily. Taking the opportunity to scare you further, Jack leaned forward, blowing lightly against your neck. You screamed, jumping up from the sofa and scratting at your neck frantically. Jack fell about laughing at the sight, having the time of his life.

You couldn’t help tearing up a little bit. You weren’t usually so sensitive, but the film had drained you of any usual resilience. You folded your arms, hugging yourself quietly and as suddenly as he had started, Jack stopped laughing, though he was still smiling when he enveloped you in a strong hug.

“Sorry,” he chuckled. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know,” You whispered in a small voice.

“Hey, did it really scare you that badly?”

You nodded shakily, reminding Jack of when he was barely a teenager and he’d just seen his first horror film; at the time, he was so scared that he spent an hour throwing up before bed.

He stroked your arms soothingly, resting his head on top of yours. “Would a night of dog videos help?”

“Can we watch Turner and Hooch?” You mumbled.

Jack kissed the top of your head, “Every Halloween from now on.”

“Okay.”

“Alright, come on, we’ll go get Turner and Hooch.”

“And Will?” You asked, risking a smile.

Jack groaned, “Will, really?”

“He really likes Turner and Hooch.”

Jack rolled his eyes and heaved a dramatic sigh, “Fine. Will can come too, but he’s sitting on the floor.”

You giggled, “Okay, sure, we’ll see how long that lasts.”

“I mean it,” he grinned mischievously, picking you up bridal style. “He has to stay on the floor, so I can hug my beautiful partner all night long.”

You pecked Jack’s lips, thankful that he was so understanding, “I love you.”

“Happy Halloween (Y/N).”

Like my work? Buy me a coffee and earn preview of the next fic, or commission me on the commissions page.

#quantum break. jack joyce #jack joyce x reader #will joyce #halloween #reader #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #hold me #Anonymous

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jbuffyangel · 6 years ago

Text

Disloyalty: Arrow 7x20 Review (Confessions)

Is anyone feeling like the ramp up to the season finale is lacking ramp up? Cause I do.

Also, it’s time to talk about D*nah.

Let’s dig in…

D*nah Dr*ke

The fact I’m starting with D*nah and not with Felicity or Olicity really says it all doesn’t it? Where should the priorities be right now given that it’s Emily Bett Rickard’s final few episodes? Hint: IT’S NOT D*NAH DR*KE.

“Confessions” employs a well known cinematic story telling device called the “Rashomon Effect.” It’s named after a 1950 film where a murder is described in four contradictory ways by four witnesses. Cool right? Yes, it’s a wonderful way of showing how an individual’s perspective, and self interests, can warp “the truth.” One of the best films to employ this technique is called Courage Under Fire. It stars Denzel Washington, Meg Ryan and Matt Damon. Watch it. Thank me later.

I think the Arrow writers are using the Rashomon Effect in “Confessions” but that doesn’t mean it’s effective. The episode has the same problem as “Spartan.” It’s placement in the season is bizarre. “Confessions” would work much better if it aired in the 10-15 episode range, but as one of the final it’s kind of a snoozer. I was super bored. Bored and annoyed. That’s me.

“Confessions” is a looooooot of exposition. Two guards have been murdered and once again Oliver Queen & Co. stands accused. My irritation begins with the Star City Police Department. At this point these ungrateful and disloyal twiddle dinks deserve everything the Ninth Circle has coming to them. My firm belief is Oliver and Felicity should dump this Emiko mess on SCPD’s lap, get the hell out of town and raise their family in peace. But they won’t do that because they are “heroes.” Their selflessness is super annoying.

The good news is our Parkour Prince and Olicity’s first born son Roy Harper is back in town! Oh how I have missed that perfectly sculpted jaw line.

Source: arrowdaily

The big question of course is who killed the two guards? I mean… I guess I care.

I’m not completely heartless. It’s sad the two guards are dead, but we already know Oliver didn’t do it. Neither did Felicity or Diggle. D*nah is investigating, so I’m assuming that puts her in the clear. So that leaves Rene, Roy or Emiko.

We can boil this list down even further given how shifty Roy is acting and the fact we know he’s living on a deserted island twenty years in the future. It’s either Roy or Emiko. I’m five minutes in and I’ve already figured out 95% of the plot. Yawn.

Every character gets their turn in the hot seat with D*nah and Sergeant Bingsley (isn’t that a great name?), who pretty much hates Oliver.

Source: smoakmonster

I’m not going through every single character’s perspective on the events in question mostly because it’s pretty boring (save for Felicity). Oliver, Felicity, Diggle, Roy and Rene’s details vary but all their stories arrive at the same conclusion – they didn’t do it and Oliver’s terrorist sister probably did.

Source: smoakmonster

This leaves us with one of two options – either Oliver & team are telling the truth about Emiko or they are covering for someone on the team i.e. Roy. Here’s where we arrive to the crux of my problem with “Confessions.”

D*nah Dr*ke.

The whole story hinges on D*nah either being a disloyal jackass or the audience believing she’s a disloyal jackass. Neither option says very good things about her character.

Oliver is sorry about the guards, but the team stopped a terrorist act so they are ahead by the numbers and boy he ain’t wrong! Yeah I know. Every life matters but also THEY STOPPED A TERRORIST.

D*nah and the SCPD’s evidence against Oliver is the guard’s were killed by emerald green arrows. DUN DUN DUNNNNN!!!! It’s too bad there isn’t another vigilante dressing like the Green Arrow running all over town. OH WAIT THERE IS.

D*nah and Oliver fess up to knowing the identity of the New GA and he admits Emiko is his half sister. Oliver seems extremely reluctant to name his sister as the murderer. D*nah and Bingsley believe Oliver is protecting Emiko, so it feels legit when he quietly confesses she killed the guards. She is the reason Oliver is lying and stonewalling, so Bingsley (kind of) buys his story. Quite frankly this is a stroke of genius. My boy was on fire with the plans tonight!

Long story short, Roy killed the guards in a fit of bloodlust rage, but Oliver is ride or die for his boy and insists the team cover for him.

Source: smoakmonster

However, Oliver’s plan is completely dependent on D*nah accusing her teammates of murder to misdirect the investigation, so he can casually/not so causally point the finger at Emiko.

Source: smoakmonster

We spend much of the episode listening to D*nah say, “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” and, “I want to believe you Oliver but you gotta admit this looks really bad,” because the arrows are green.

Me: Holy hell woman. He went to prison for you. What more does he have to do to inspire some friggin loyalty from you?

Oliver argues pretty much all of my words because he feels me on a spiritual level. He didn’t do it. D*nah should know him better than that. And all he gets is her stony face and judgmental eyes. I mean, God forbid Oliver Queen make the department look bad!

The reason Oliver used D*nah this way is because she’s been judgmental and disloyal all season long. She barely lifted a finger to help Felicity get Oliver out of prison, she arrested Rene for being a vigilante and was up Siren’s ass all the time. (Okay, that last one was warranted.) Her primary worry is holding on to her job as captain. And don’t even get me started on Season 6.

Felicity: Oh you mean when Ricardo Diaz kidnapped Roy to turn him against Oliver? You might have forgotten about that since you weren’t exactly on speaking terms with Oliver and I at the time.

BOOM. Felicity Smoak is my level of petty. I love it. Drag her sis.

At first, I thought the writers were going with Plan A – Emiko killed the guards. So, my irritation with D*nah and her constant blame game when it came to Team Arrow’s actions were at an all time high. I’m not kidding. I want Siren back. Can we do a Canary exchange? E2 gets D*nah . At least the writers have picked a personality with this version of LL. I’ve gone from advocating for Laurel’s death to missing her newest incarnation. This is a full circle moment.

D*nah has many of the character problems E1 L*urel had. The writers are 100% committed to assassinating her character whenever the plot deems necessary. There’s really no other explanation for D*nah’s flip flopping personality and constant suspicions of Oliver Queen. We’ve been here before.

I know for many outside fandom this Roy reveal was an extremely great GOTCH YA,

but I think fandom was on to Roy + rage = Lazarus Pit since the beginning of the season. It’s fine. We’re a very difficult group to surprise because we pay attention to all the itty bitty details a casual viewer blows right past. That wasn’t my annoyance with the episode.

My annoyance is the writers knew I would be annoyed with D*nah and believe she is selling out the team.

Sometimes Arrow is very self aware and this is one of those moments. They know fans are frustrated with the character and yet instead of fixing it they lean into it.

D*nah is blaming and accusing Oliver every other week. Her behavior really hasn’t changed that much from Season 6. So, the one time she’s on board with Oliver’s call I’m supposed to rejoice? No.

Sorry, particularly when the writers use her awfulness to sell the ruse. IF YOU KNOW SHE IS AWFUL THEN WHY DON’T YOU FIX IT?

I couldn’t even be happy about D*nah being “one for all and all for one” because she continues to bitch about protecting Roy to Oliver after they are cleared by the police.

D*nah: Two innocent people died and we’re covering it up.

Oliver: D*nah is someone on this team goes down then this entire team goes down.

Felicity and Diggle also make strong arguments about sitting in lock up while Emiko wreaks havoc on the city. OTA is strongly #TeamProtectRoy.

Source: lucyyh

Rene: But Roy’s not a part of this team. He’s been gone for months doing who knows what.

Oliver: With due respect, you don’t know what he’s been through. Roy is and will always be as much a part of this team as the rest of us.

D*nah: Except the rest of us don’t go around killing innocent people.

OKAY NEW KIDS. You’ve been going here for two stinking years whereas Roy has been around since Season 1. RESPECT YOUR ELDERS.

I understand D*nah and Rene don’t have a personal connection to Roy, but when the guy who went to prison for you vouches for him then that’s all they should need. PICK A SIDE. Are you on this team or are you out? If you’re on the team then fall in line.

One thing I will always love about Oliver Queen is his LOYALTY. Roy sacrificed everything for Oliver, so he doesn’t even blink at two dead guards.

Roy was clearly out of his mind, so the Newbies need to take a beat and follow the leader. Maybe you don’t know Roy, but they should know Oliver by now. And that’s the essential problem. Do Rene and D*nah trust Oliver Queen? No. I don’t think they do. Not fully. So what the hell are they doing here?

Also, has D*nah completely forgotten she is also a murderer? Because I haven’t.

The difference between Roy and D*nah is she doesn’t have bloodlust as an excuse. She was of sound mind and body when she pulled the trigger, so I really need her to shove the moral condemnation.

The entire reason this episode focused so much on D*nah is because she has been the character most predisposed to disloyalty this season. The entire reason this ruse worked on any kind of level with the audience is because we believed D*nah’s disloyalty. The entire reason Oliver knew the plan would fool the police is because D*nah’s disloyalty is believable. That is a very big problem. She is not a character I root for anymore and what’s even sadder is the writers don’t seem to care.

Roy Harper

I’m not putting my frustrations with “Confessions” all at D*nah’s feet. Now is the time to take a long and hard look at our problematic son Roy Harper.

Here’s how the episode should have gone:

Roy: I died, Thea dipped me in the Pit and we used the Lotus Elixir, but I still have rage issues because Mirakuru is forever screwing me over.

Oliver: Cool.

Then, Dad would send son out into the field with a babysitter. Kind of like a buddy system. By the way, didn’t they use the only Lotus Elixir on Thea in Season 3? Me thinks yes, but apparently Nyssa has access to a whole lotus garden now.

What’s hilarious about this is Oliver used the Pit on Thea, she used the Pit on Roy and L*urel used it on Sara. And yet they adamantly refuse to use it on L*urel. Nyssa has plenty of Lotus Elixir and Constantine is flying around time with Sara, but they still won’t resurrect her character. Oh Arrow. I see your petty and I love it.

(Yeah I know they aren’t resurrecting Moira, Tommy, Robert, etc. but none of those people are actively seeking employment on the show.)

Anywho, back to Roy. Oliver brought him back to town because Emiko doesn’t know who he is and he could be their ace in the hole. Also they needed someone really good are parkour.

The writers addressed the “Why not Thea?” question, but Oliver’s answer left something to be desired. He’s not going to tell Thea about Emiko until she’s in custody?

Uhhh… okay. I understand Oliver not wanting to drag Thea back into the Star City drama, but he could pick up the phone and let her know what’s going on. I’m not comfortable with a lie by omission. Would Thea come running home if she knew about Emiko? Yeah, maybe but I feel confident they could cook up a Lazarus Pit emergency instead of Oliver lying to his sister. Again.

This is 99.99% Roy’s fault and I’m glad Oliver holds him responsible for keeping a secret like this. It is possible to love and protect someone while holding them accountable. It doesn’t have to be either or.

This is what loyalty, friendship and team work looks like. D*nah and Rene could learn a few things from Oliver Queen.

Felicity Smoak and Olicity

It’s frustrating we’re on episode 20 and I’m spending 95% of my review talking about D*nah and Roy. I have long ago accepted Arrow is never going to focus on Felicity Smoak and Olicity to the level I would like them too. I’ve let that anger die many moons ago. However, I do occasionally get frustrated and this is one of those episodes. The need to use Felicity Smoak to her max potential seems even more urgent because of Emily’s impending exit.

And yet, Arrow remains Arrow. They won’t shift from standard operating procedure even now. Generally speaking, the big Olicity moments happen in the premiere, mid season finale/mid season premiere and season finale. I get it, but EMILY IS LEAVING.

It’s time to chuck the SOP. Granted they’ve focused on Felicity more than ever have before, but this kind of exposition episode and focus on secondary characters would have been an easier pill to swallow if it came earlier in the season. But 7x20?

Maybe there’s an explanation for that and maybe there’s not. I don’t know for sure, but as a viewer it frustrates me.

Upside: We watched Felicity eat a bunch of yummies and be her perfect, adorable self.

Source: lucyyh

She almost told Roy she was preggo and Oliver had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing.

Source: felicitysmoakgifs

Her feelings about Rene are the same as mine and it gives me life.

Source: smoakmonster

We end on a cliffhanger with a worried wifey freaking about bae.

Source: olivergifs

And her hair is its own storyline. Wow.

Source: smoakmonster

The fact these are the only real moments I have from one of Felicity’s final episodes is sad to me, but I appreciate them nonetheless. Despite my love, Arrow is an imperfect show and it will remain so until the very end.

Stray Thoughts

Tweet of the night.

THEA IS HAPPY. DO NOT TOUCH MY CHILD WRITERS.

It’s entirely possible Roy goes to Lian Yu because he can’t find a cure for the bloodlust and cools his heels there for the last 20 years. Pretty much anything is better than the writers killing Thea, so if it protects my Theroy happy ending then I’ll get behind it. They are literally dumping characters in Pauseville until the series finale and I am here for it.

Do Thea and Roy both have a red hooded jacket or do they sharesies?

Look I get Rene is in love with Emiko, but she's trying to murder her brother on the regular for stuff Robert Queen did so this whole “family is important to her” stance he is taking is completely laughable. Will anyone on this show ever make sense? Oh right. Felicity AND SHE IS LEAVING.

Oliver is making a shocking amount of sense. Fully realized superhero Oliver is so unnerving. EPIC MOMENT. Source: olivergifs

I'm glad Emiko finally dropped the Gambit bomb. Pun intended. Oliver needs to know the evil sister has been plotting since S1 because full circle baby!!!

Me: It's gonna take a lot more than dropping a building on him to kill Oliver Queen.

Also me: SOMEONE SAVE HIM!!!!!!!! THERE'S TOO MANY TOMMY MEMORIES AND I CAN'T HANDLE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MAKE IT STAHP!!!! Source olicitygifs

The final five minutes were good and delivered an action packed punch, but man it was a slow ride to get there. Time to pick up the pace Arrow! We’re almost to the finish line.

Disclaimer: Any gifs on the blog are not mine. If you would like a gif removed from my reviews, please message me. 7x20 gifs credited.

If you’d like to support the blog, please buy me a cup of tea!

#arrow #arrow 7x20 review #arrow 7x20 #anti dinah drake #roy harper #anti rene ramirez #anti laurel lance #felicity smoak #oliver queen #olicity #arrow spoilers #arrow reviews #arrow season 7 #arrow season 7 reviews #season 7 episode review #season 7 episode reviews

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omfgtrump · 5 years ago

Text

The Don Unravels

China, if you are out there, I want you to dig up dirt on Sleepy Joe and his stealin’ son, Hunter. They are criminals and we need to make sure corrupt people don’t get to be president. As you know, there has never been a more honest president than me! The whole Russia thing was a hoax, and it is really Ukraine we should be looking at to see how they influenced the 2016 election that I won by a landslide.

And what the hell are they giving out in Hong Kong to all those people are on the street every day? And what’s with all the masks? Maybe we should do a trade deal on masks. It’s like Halloween all the time.

Wait, they want to get rid of the masks? I guess they are kind of boring. How about we send them masks of me? A million Trumps walking around the streets of Hong Kong. Told you trade wars were easy to win.

400 pound guy, if you are still sunk into your bed, I want you to dig up dirt on Sleepy Joe and his corrupt son, Hunter. You know, do a little research like you did with Hillary’s emails. You know, in between eating all those Cheetos. Who knows, there might be a position in the administration for you if you come up with the goods.

And people, it is time to call Elizabeth Warren the sex fiend she is. Don’t let those brains fool you. This cougar thing is one of the biggest scandals ever seen in the history of like, ever. I mean, I haven’t seen the evidence yet, but it comes from some really reliable sources (right wing?) Can you imagine a 70 year old woman being an escort to a 25 year old marine? I never thought of Pochahontas as sexy- more like a school teacher, and definitely not my type- but this new story has me thinking in a different way about her. If it is true, and like I said, I haven’t seen all the facts- just like I didn’t see all the facts in the Khoshogi murder. I mean this is worse than the Access Hollywood tape. So we need to get to the bottom of this. Think I will get my boy Barr on this. Get him to start an investigation. After all, no man would be safe with a cougar in the White House!

And I just want to make one thing perfectly clear: I really didn’t want to get involved in the Ukraine thing. It was Rick Perry. He made me do it.

Really, Rick powerless Perry made The Don do it. It’s like Fredo in the Godfather getting Don Corleone to do something. And isn’t saying Perry made you do it another admission of you doing it? And if what you did wasn’t so bad why do you need to pawn it off on Perry? I thought you were proud about cleaning up corruption in the Ukraine. I am so confused.

And you know Barr, Pence and Pompeo were involved, too. Yes they were. Totally. Let’s face it: if those Dems are crazy enough to impeach the greatest president ever- even greater than Lincoln, once you get rid of that hat- then they are going to have to take us all down. My Republican cowards will never have us convicted because then Nancy Pelosi will be president. Can you imagine them voting for Nancy Pelosi for president?

You too Baron? We haven’t exchanged more than two words in months so what made you decide to tell me to call Ukraine? What were you thinking?

And how about the press conference with the President of Finland? The man was in such shock at The Don’s behavior that it looked like he was suffering from the Stockholm Syndrome. Oh, my bad, wrong country, as Stockholm is in Sweden, another country whose immigrants we would love to have.

With the Finnish president sitting next him The Don unraveled, declaring Democrats “guilty as hell” of corrupting the 2016 election, Mr. Biden “corrupt” and “less smart now than he ever was,” and the C.I.A. whistle-blower “a spy in my opinion.”

He saved his sharpest barbs for Adam Schiff, Chairman of the House Intelligence Committee, calling him “a lowlife” and “shifty, dishonest guy.” Referring to Secretary of State Mike Pompeo, the president said Mr. Schiff “couldn’t carry his ‘blank’ strap,” using the word “blank” instead of “jock” for the locker-room insult.

Oh Don, such a prude. It would have been so cool for you to use jock strap. The restraint was frankly shocking. I guess that’s the same restraint you used when you referred to A- hole countries. But then you used the word Bullshit on twitter:

“BULLSHIT.” He will not be a one-term president! That’s weak, like Carter, like Bush One! He cannot be WEAK like them! He cannot lose! It’s all an attempted “coup”!

Back to the President of Finland. Listening to The ravings of The Don, perhaps he was wishing the reporter would ask him about raking. Remember that absurdity during the fires in California?

(The Don had called Finland “a forest nation” that spends “a lot of time on raking and cleaning and doing things, and they don’t have any problem.” Turns out that Finland President Niinisto told local newspaper Ilta-Sanomat that he emphasized the use of a surveillance system – and doesn’t remember mentioning raking.)

So when Reuters reporter Jeff Mason asked Trump: “What did you, or what do you, want President Zelensky to do with regard to Joe and Hunter Biden?” after a White House memo revealed Trump asked Zelensky to “look into” them. Trump, furious, evaded the question, and a la Robert De Niro in Taxi Driver asked Mason: “Are you talking to me?” and told Mason to ask Finland’s president a question instead.

President Ninisto was so relieved he blurted out: “We have amazing rakes in Finland, The most beautiful rakes anywhere. The president just loves them.”

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#IFTTT #WordPress #trump #politics #potus #capital hill #washington dc #white house #america #usa

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onbartonspringsfic · 6 years ago

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Chapter 79

“Are you sure about this dress?” you ask Alison worriedly even before making it out of the department store revolving door and onto the street.

“I swear, woman,” she moans under a sigh. “What are we going to do with you? It looked great. Dave won’t be able to keep it in his pants. Same for Chris.”

“What do you mean?” you say way too quickly.

“It’s not exactly a secret,” she replies casually. “It’s pretty obvious what’s going on.”

You stop dead in the middle of the busy sidewalk, clutching the handle of your shopping bag so tightly that it feels as though it’s cutting into your fingers.

“What’s obviously going on?” Your voice waivers, causing you to sound terribly worried and a little angry.

Alison continues walking several steps before she realizes she’s now alone. Turning around slowly, she looks at you apologetically.

“I’m sorry, I guess that sounded pretty accusatory and kind of shitty, didn’t it?”

“Well… no…” you suddenly feel overwhelmed and helpless.

“Sounds like we need to talk about more than dresses.” She scans the street and, spying what she is looking for, beckons with one bag-laden arm to follow. “There’s a Starbucks ahead on the corner. Let’s take a break and chat.”

Sliding into a crumb-filled seat in a booth opposite Alison, you stare at her through the steam wafting from the top of your Venti hot chocolate topped with marshmallows and whipped cream. She cautiously looks back over her chai latte with almond milk and takes a deep breath.

“What do you want to know,” she asks.

“I want to know what you think is going on.”

She hesitates, takes a sip of her latte, and then locks eyes with you.

“I think Chris is in love with you and he wants you to split up with Dave.”

Your mouth drops open in utter shock.

“Hear me out. I apologize if I’m wrong, but have you not noticed the way he looks at you? He can’t keep his eyes off of you. Every time I look at him, he’s dialed in. I know you two got pretty close while you were in Austin and that you stayed with him after Dave and the rest of us flew back to California. I’ve known Shifty a long time. He has feelings for you.”

Eyes shifting to your cup, you take a cautious sip before looking back at Alison.

“It’s complicated,” you confess as she frowns.

“Has he said anything to you?”

“We went for a walk on the beach the other morning to catch up. We hadn’t really spoken since Austin. He told me about Cara leaving, and… and then he confessed that he was ashamed to say that he was hoping things between Dave and I weren’t going well, that maybe he and I could be together. And…” Unable to continue, you take another sip of cocoa and press both lips together, taking a deep breath and staring at the table.

“You don’t have to tell me all this if you don’t want to,” she offers. “But I’m also glad to listen if you do.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you look back across the table at your new friend. It’s funny; you’d known Andrea and Kelly for so many years and didn’t trust either of them any further than you could throw them and yet you trust Alison, whom you’d spent just a few days with, like a sister.

“He told me he is completely in love with me, that he has been since Austin - he danced with me and I cried on his shoulder while I was watching Dave with Rose. I was so hurt and he was so angry at Dave. We kissed in the hall to make my friends jealous and then later he pulled me into a linen closet down the hall and…”

Her eyes grow as big as saucers. “It didn’t go THAT far,” you laugh through the now flowing tears. “I stopped him. I reminded him how much it would hurt Cara. Lot of good that did. But on the beach, he kissed me. And I kissed him back - just for a few seconds - but I kissed him back. He means the world to me, Ali. I am so confused. I think I might be in love with them both.”

Ali heaves a sigh, one hand sliding to the back of her neck and the other cradling her chin as she stares blankly at the floor, trying to think of a solution.

“How the fuck does a nobody like me stumble across Dave fucking Grohl in a hotel lobby and then end up in a love triangle with two members of the Foo Fighters that could potentially break them up and end a friendship 20 years in the making? This is just ridiculous!”

Alison bursts out laughing but quickly covers her mouth with one hand. You follow her lead.

“Am I right? It’s just completely laughable. And yet so real and horribly painful.”

She quickly straightens up and drops one hand to the table. “Does he know you aren’t sure what to do?”

“Yes. And no. I’ve admitted to him that there is something there, but I’ve told him that I am in love with Dave and that I want to stay with him.”

“Dave knows about the closet in Austin.” Alison’s eyes grow huge again. “But that was before we were officially together. He doesn’t know about the kiss on the beach. Obviously. He trusts me. After what Jordyn did to him, I couldn’t bear to let it happen to him again. It would kill him.”

Ali grows silent and, after a moment, serious. “Your secret is safe with me. I can understand your confusion. They’re both amazing men. I know you have zero confidence in yourself, but they’re both right to be smitten with you. You’re pretty amazing yourself.”

You wipe sloppily at your face as new tears begin spilling down your cheeks and splashing on the table. “What am I going to do?!” you blubber helplessly.

“I obviously can’t tell you that.” She sounds sympathetic and at the same time, stern. “You’re going to have to make up your own mind. You’re going to have to follow your gut and your heart. And you’re going to have to come to terms with the fact that no matter what you do, it’s going to hurt everyone in one way or another. I’m not saying that to be a bitch and I’m not saying you’re to blame for any outcome. I just didn’t know if you’d thought about that. No matter what happens, someone is going to get hurt. I’m mentioning this because, while this is not your fault, its the position you’ve been put in. You can’t base your decision on how it will affect others. You have to do what you feel is right rather than what’s easy.” She pauses and frowns at the window before looking back at you. “Does that make sense? Or do I just sound like a jerk? It’s no one’s fault. It just… happened.”

“I feel like I just want to hop a plane back to the island and lock myself away forever.”

“You can’t run away this time, Pen. You can’t. These guys won’t let you.”

You stare miserably back. “Why can’t you just tell me what to do?” you plead, half joking, half serious.

She smiles sympathetically. “I will say this. You can take it for whatever it’s worth, if anything. I’ve known them both for a long time. Dave adores you. You two have been through a lot in the short time since you’ve met - had a lot of ups and downs - and you’re still together. From what I’ve observed, you two have a chemistry that is beyond physical. You guys seem genuinely happy just being together, no matter what you’re doing. He missed you something terrible when he had to leave you in Austin. He wanted you to go home with him so bad, he was in tears on the plane. From the second that bird took off he was scheming on how he could see you again as soon as possible. That’s when he started talking about flying out to North Carolina to surprise you. I’ve never seen him like that before. With anyone. You guys are just so… organic. It’s like you were made for each other. On the other hand - and this is based solely on what you have told me and what I have observed - you and Chris seem to have a serious physical chemistry going on. Kissing in the hall, the linen closet entanglement, the kiss on the beach… do you feel an emotional connection with him like you do with Dave? I know you haven’t spent as much time with Chris, but do you feel that connection at all? You don’t have to answer me, it’s just something else to consider.”

Taking a gulp of your cooling hot chocolate and mushing a couple of mini-marshmallows around with your tongue, you slowly begin to process some of what Alison’s just presented.

“That’s a lot more to think about. I mean, it’s something I haven’t really thought about before. It’s helpful. Thank you.” You wipe your eyes once more and look at her gratefully. “I still have tons to think about, though.”

“You absolutely do. But if you need an ear to bend, or if there is anything I can do to help, will you let me know? We haven’t been friends long, but I consider you one of my best. I love you and I’d do anything for you.” She gives you her beautiful winning smile and you can’t help but smile back, grateful to and for such a gracious friend.

-----

While finishing your coffee and cocoa, Dave texts to let you know that filming is complete for the morning and that it is safe for you and Alison to return to the hotel suite whenever you get ready. A shivering Pat is having a cigarette outside, and at the sight of you, abandons his smoke, relieves Alison of some of her shopping bags and accompanies you upstairs. He cautiously opens the door and the three of you file quietly inside. Dave had said that he’d finished filming, but the remaining band and crew members were softly talking and milling around, so you all three carried on as such.

You catch sight of Dave, Bonnie Raitt, Buddy Guy and Butch Vig standing in the next room talking and Dave smiles and excuses himself when he sees you. Swiftly he steps around the group, gives you a huge grin and mouths “oh my god” enthusiastically while discreetly pointing over his shoulder at the group. You can’t help but giggle.

“Are you that excited to meet Butch?” you tease as he gives you a quick kiss.

“Ha. Ha. Buddy is fucking amazing. Bonnie is too, but Buddy… god, that was incredible.” He looks so excited and happy. It’s infectious. “You guys have fun? Any luck shopping?”

“I bought a little something you might like,” you say coyly. “Well, Alison said you’d like it. Let’s hope she’s right.”

“She looks gorgeous in it,” Ali comments from the sofa where she’s landed with Pat and Taylor, “but you can’t tell her that. She’d have bought nothing if I hadn’t been there.”

Dave gives you a small, knowing smile and shakes his head slightly. “Do I get to see later?”

“It’s your money,” you tease, making him roll his eyes and grin.

“Hey, do you guys want to meet…? “ he points excitedly into the other room where Butch, Buddy and Bonnie are having an animated conversation.

Ali lets out a hushed but sarcastic “DUH!” as she and Taylor hop up to join you and Dave for introductions.

#foofightersfanfiction foofightersfanfic davegrohlfanfiction davegrohlfanfic chrisshiflettfanfiction chrisshiflettfanfic foofighters

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bettycrocker · 6 years ago

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actually let me try and explain this a little more coherently. usually if you want to set up a bad guy in any kind of media, you want to foreshadow in some way shape or form that they plan on doing something bad to the main cast. there is a show dont tell rule with these kinds of things if you want them to be more realistic. we know murdoc was destined to be an asshole because of his grungy looking design, sharp toothed grin, off putting aura, the whole satanist thing that would have been a ‘evil’ trope around the time gorillaz was made, etc. they constantly set him up as a character who if he were a real person youd probably want him dead.

now we look at ace and they’ve literally just set him up so far as a character who looks sharp and smug, he’s still got that sweet talker in him from the ppg days, he dresses like hes in his early 20s still but really cares about how he looks like REALLY cares, he’s constantly got a toothy shit-eating grin on his face, by all means all of these images when youre glancing over them for the first time scream SWINDLER which is usually something you associate with villains.

glancing over the images a second time they’re trying really hard to show that he does have some kind of soft, maybe even goofy side to him. king 2d hes got those fucking star shades and a goddamn party blower. at the tracks with noodle, hes smiling and having a great time and she’s clearly happy to be hanging out with him. his picture with the islander woman pin-up background he’s got fucking tan lines around his goddamn eyes showing that he almost never takes off his sunglasses probably because he thinks they make him look cool af when he looks kind of like a huge dork with them on. every image he’s got that smile on his face but its not an inherently nefarious smile its more or less a permanent grin hes got going on because it shows off what a smug ass bitch he is.

the only ways he could really be seen as a villain from a design standpoint is the greasy, slightly gritty and sharp look they have going for him. he looks like the type of guy youd meet in an alleyway to buy crack from. and knowing that he keeps the weapons on him but never actually uses them to threaten others shows even more how much of a pussy he is. if it were murdoc he probably would have threatened those dudes with the knife after popping their basketball and make them fuck off from the court. ace just stood there super confused as to why they were mad at him and then probably fucking left because didnt want to be yelled at more. if he were angry at them for not getting his joke i guarantee they would have happily animated it.

now the only other say hint that he could be “””evil””” ive seen is in the noisey interview where they talk about how ace rolls up in the car from the evil dead series and beckons russel and 2d to come to the car with a “spindly” hand. spindly totally gives off creepy vibes but its just describing how weird his hands hard in fact they really avoid showing off ace’s hands in a lot of the art and the only time we really see them is when he pops the basketball, so it might have just been a description in case artists wanted to draw him but it might have been a spooky scary “be wary of him” thing.

i lied there is one more hint that he could be up to no good and that is the now now demon days recreation album cover. when i did icons from the album, i got weird vibes that ace was the only one facing left. thats the only way ive seen that they could be referencing hes up to no good. everyone is facing right but hes facing left, its supposed to draw your eye to him and make you feel weirded out and make you uncomfortable which is an easy way of saying “hey bad dude here” but it might also just be a coincidence and that its just referring to ace being only temporarily there.

the only one i can say for sure that ace is a threat to would be murdoc in all honesty and that would legit only because he wants to officially replace him as the bands bassist. that might end up being a plot point in the lore it might not be its super hard to tell but this is just how i see it right now from a character design standpoint. i do get some shifty vibes but at the same time theyre fronting him as a character you can enjoy and youre supposed to like him because hes flawed, stupid, tries too hard to look cool, is probably stoned a lot of the time, and yeah.

#bettycrocker speaking #gorillaz #long post #ace copular #ace gorillaz

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forged-through-trials · 4 years ago

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Turns out the Spire was due West, near Skingrad, whereas we were headed East, to Bravil. As the Spire Job was out of our way, I put a pin in it for now, and continued on to Bravil. We had a package to deliver, and nothing would keep this Argonian from her appointed cover-story! The trip from the Archeology Guild Castle to Bravil was mostly uneventful. We arrived just as the shops were closing, so we had just enough time to check them out and try to unload some of the loot we’d pinched off of bandits between here and the IC.

The shopping trip took us to “A Warlock’s Luck”, run by the High Elf “Ungarion.” It was while browsing his wares that I noticed this book: “An Expanded Excerpt from Vampires of Tamriel, Vol. II.” Given my still-open vampire cases, the book caught my eyes immediately, and I bought it, cracking it open immediately. The gist of the excerpt concerned a legendary blade of myth and lore, dubbed “The Light of Dawn.” A glowing sword that burst with sunlight every time it struck a vampire. Trials: “This sounds like exactly what I need! A blade of legend, tailor-made for slaying vampires.” Ruin: “And currently under control of a clan of vampires. I’m not sure pursuing this blade would be the wisest of decisions.” Trials: “...” I fumed, and stomped a foot. “Nanny-Ruin kills my buzz again. Damn, so I need to get strong enough to fight vampires, to get the legendary sword that might make me strong enough to fight vampires? What is this, some kind of Tang Mo riddle?” Ruin: He furrowed his brow thoughtfully, steepling his hands. “I know that you are eager to go after Seridur and Baron von Zarov. Perhaps... assuming we were to find Nornalhorst, the lair of the vampires holding the blade, we can at least check it out.” Trials: I grinned, hands on hips. “Oh, yes. Just a peak wouldn’t hurt...”

With that course of action decided on, we made for the Mages Guild. There, we had to wait until Kud-Ei had finished dinner, but after that, I was finally able to get in a little training in the arts of Illusion. Useful, both for my work as a thief, and for you, Gentle Reader. Next time I go diving into some dark cave, you might actually be able to see something! Kud-Ei: “I guess I do owe you for helping out with Henantier. Okay, what do you already know about Illusion?” Trials: “I can do--WHAT’S THAT OVER THERE?” Kud-Ei: She blinked, then turned her head. “What?” Trials: I proceed to pick her pocket. “Oh, nothing. It was just a cliff-racer. By the way, here’s the gold for the lessons!” After a few lessons with Kud-Ei, I was proficient enough now to finally be able to cast my Night-Eye spell. Surely to be useful the next time I go Dungeon Diving. After the training, Kud-Ei asked if I was interested in a recommendation from the guild-hall. Admittedly, I’m more interested in progress with the Thieves Guild, but knowing a little magic probably couldn’t hurt, so I agreed. Kud-Ei: “I’m afraid I haven’t had time to prepare anything conventional, I’m very preoccupied with this situation with Ardaline.” Trials: “...why’d you ask me if I wanted a recommendation if you didn’t have a task ready for me?” Kud-Ei: “Because I’m not-so-subtly asking you for another favor. I need you to talk to ‘Varon Vamori.’” Trials: “Who d’at?” Kud-Ei: “You’ve heard the expression; ‘the Town Horse’? Well, he’s the opposite. The ‘Town Mudcrab’; a hideous, aggressive creature who spends most of every day mired in his own filth and lashing out at anyone who gets too close.” Trials: Sardonically. “You make him sound like such a charmer.” Kud-Ei: “Surprisingly, Ardaline doesn’t care much for him, despite him bothering her every day. It finally came to a head when he stole her Mage’s Staff. I need you to get it back.” She gave me a few Beguile scrolls to help in that matter. Normally, these things are one-use only, but with the insight I gleamed from Kud-Ei’s lessons, I was skilled enough in Illusion to decipher the enchantment and add the Spell to my Spellbook. It’s not free, of course; it’ll pull from my internal reserves of Magicka, but now that I’m an Apprentice at Illusion, I should be able to handle that.

It was pretty late, so rather than go after Varon Vamori immediately Ruin and I called it a night. Afterward, we still had that package to deliver, so we headed for the castle... and right back out again, as we were told our mark was visiting the chapel for the day. Trials: “Hey, I got a package here, for a ‘Hans Black-Nail’!” Several people ceased praying and raised their heads to give me dirty looks. As if yelling loudly in a chapel was frowned upon, or something? Hans: He stood up and approached me. “I’ll sign for it.” He scribbled on my clipboard and accepted the package. Trials: “Ugh, glad to be rid of it. What’d you order? Because it weighed a ton!” Hans: “Just some... ‘reading material’.” He gave me some shifty eyes. “Hail Dagon.” Trials: “...what?” Hans: “Uh, I said ‘mail Raymond’. I need to mail one of these to my friend, Raymond! Dawn is Breaking! Greet the new day!” Trials: “...” I slowly began to step away from him. “OoooooKAY! I’m just gonna take my money and go.” I grab Ruin’s arm. “Let’s beat it!”

Once our job in town was finished, we tracked down Vamori, at long last. Ruin and I confronted him right away. Trials: “Ho, Dark Elf. We were wondering if we might talk to you about Ardeline?” Vamori: He wrinkled his nose and scowled. “Oh? What about that stuck-up Stacy?” Trials: “...” I frowned at him. “Look, we just want her Mage’s Staff back.” Vamori: “I don’t have it! And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell a Lizbian!” Trials: “...a what??” Vamori: “Quit mogging me and get out of my house! And take Chad-Scale here with you.” Trials: “...” Ruin: “...” Vamori: “What do they call him, anyway? Jaw-Like-Lantern? Wrists-Like-Tree-Trunks? Steals-Your-Girlfriend? Ruin: “...I don’t like any of those nicknames.” Ugh, Gentle Reader, after just two minutes alone with this yutz and I wanted to throttle him. But I was good, and I kept my cool, using the Beguile spell Kud-Ei taught me to get to calm down and open up. Vamori: Openly sobbing. “It’s my chin! She doesn’t like me because my chin is too pointy! That’s it, isn’t it!?” I quickly regretted getting him to open up. Ruin: “Just because Ardaline is not interested, does not mean no one is interested in you. You just need to accept that, and find a woman who will appreciate you?” Vamori: He wiped his eyes and whimpered. “Wh-what about her?” Trials: “...ffffffFUDGE NO!” Vamori: “...Friend-Zoned again!” He immediately began waling and buried his face in his hands. Ruin: “...” He sighed and turned to me. “While I understand your reaction, I think you should have been just a little bit more tactful.” Trials: “He’s a creep with the people-skills of a blighted scrib, and he can go eat a bag of nails. How’s that for ‘tactful’?” Ruin: “...I appreciate that, but we do need him to tell us what he did with the Mage’s Staff.” Vamori: “I’ll tell you if you’ll just get that Alphagonian out of my face! “I took it, okay? I just wanted Ardaline to like me, that’s all! I don’t do things like this, normally. I’m a nice guy, honest!” Trials: “...yeah, that hasn’t really borne out, like, at all!” Vamori: “I was a little ashamed afterwards, but I didn’t know how to apologize or give it back.” Trials: “It’s actually really easy. You say; ‘I’m sorry’, and you give it back!” Ruin: “That would require him to take responsibility. Something he’s proven to not be very adept at.” Vamori: “...besides, I’m afraid I don’t have it anymore. You see, I... I sold it. To a friend of mine, Soris Arenim.” Trials: “...uuuuuugh! You mean we sat through an hour of your Red-Potion B.S. and the staff isn’t even here??” Vamori: “No, it’s with Soris. He lives int the Talos Plaza District of the Imperial City.” Trial: I slammed me head against the nearby wall. “We just came from there! By the Nine!”

We reported back in to Kud-Ei, as I thought to get her two-cents on the matter. Kud-Ei: “He sold it, eh? This just keeps getting worse!” Trials: “You weren’t there to hear a Dibella-dry sob for hours about his wrists, or about how ‘FeMages’ are ‘all wenches.’ Trust me, this is already about as bad as it can get.” Kud-Ei: “And now you see why I asked you to do this favor for me. He creeps me out something fierce! “Anyway, here’re some more scrolls. Track down the staff and get it back. And, of course, keep this just between us.” So, it looks like we’re headed back to the Imperial City. Well, since we’re going that way anyway, I picked up another package to deliver back there. Nothing says I can’t get paid while I try to get the staff back!

The trip back to the Imperial City was uneventful enough. You could say Ruin and I cleared the way when we headed down to Bravil the first time ‘round. Once back in the city, we started off by delivering the package in question, to a ‘Damian Magius’ at the Imperial Trading Company warehouse, in the Waterfront District. Now it was time to track down Soris Arenim.

We found his house quickly enough, it being in the northwest corner of the Talos Plaza District. The door was open, so Ruin and I let ourselves in, whereupon we spoke to the man of the house. Soris: Deadpan. “...oh, sure, just let yourself in. It’s not like I mind uninvited guests or anything.” Trials: “You might wanna try locking your door if you have a problem, pal.” Soris: Sardonically. “But then how would I ever meet such interesting characters like yourselves?” Ruin: “...by going outside?” Soris: He recoiled and hissed at the notion. Trials: I sighed and rubbed my temple. “We’ll be outta your hair in a moment. We’d just like to ask about a staff you recently purchased?” Soris: “Yes, I have the staff Varon sold me.” Trials: “Any chance you’d be willing to part with it?” Soris: “Absolutely not! I paid good money for it, after all. A deal’s a deal!” Trials: “But it’s stolen, and we’re only trying to return it to its rightful owner--and WOW it feels weird to be saying that.” Ruin: He furrowed his brow curiously at me. “...why would it feel weird?” Trials: I sweated audibly. “No reason!” Soris: “Besides, I paid for the staff, so the ‘rightful owner’ is me, right now. Sorry, friend, but I’m just not willing to part with it. It’s nothing personal, kid.” Ruin: “Hmmm...” He cupped his chin curiously. “‘Nothing personal, kid’. I’m going to remember that for the next time we get into a fight!” Trials: “If that really sounds cool and new to you, your old society was a dull place.” Well, that was a dead-end... for now, at least. Ruin and I retreated for the time being, whereupon I picked up another package, this time back to Bravil. Then we retired to the Merchant’s Inn to spent the night...

...then, while Ruin was still asleep, I woke up in the dead of night, and slipped off back to the Talos Plaza District. Just as I’d planned, Soris and his wife were asleep when I broke in. Though that meant their bedroom was off limits. I don’t want to risk sneaking around in there while they’re sleeping. Since there was no immediate sign of the staff in their foyer, and that left one last alternative... the basement. That lock was just as easy to breach as the front door, so I was in, and slinking about in their basement in short order. Again, there was no immediate sign of the staff, but there was a chest of drawers down there that looked about the right size...

...jackpot! I now had the staff! Soris was not going to be happy when he woke up to find his new purchase missing, and since he knew I was interested in the staff, chances were that Ruin and I would probably have to leave the city and lie low for a while. But that can wait until tomorrow. I’m beat. Tomorrow, we return to Bravil!

#the elder scrolls #oblivion #modded #let's play #roleplay #ask blog

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beautifulramblingbrains · 7 years ago

Text

Woke - Chapter 2

Pairing: Eric/OC Fandom: Divergent / Insurgent Rating: M - Frequent bad language and sensitive subjects.

In the middle of corruption, our Leader deviates through a twisted world - and mind. Can he save himself? Does he want to be saved? He isn’t playing a heroes game. But something might just grow on him.

A/N: You can read the first chapter here. And thank you all for reading, commenting, reblogging etc. I know, these are really long chapters, so make sure you grab a cuppa before you start :)

Tags: @2toastersbang @singingpeople @pathybo @equalstrashflavoredtrash @clublulu333 @jojuarez26 @tigpooh67@murmelinchen @vitaevandal @lilu46 @mom2reesie@frecklefaceb @beltzboys2015-blog @ariwolff14 @angelswannawearmyredshooz - this is not letting me tag you? @lunaschild2016 @kirstenisntkirsty - same? @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @lauraaan182 (If I have forgotten anyone please message me.)

Impractical. It’s probably the fifth time I’ve noted the structure as impractical. Trees grow freely, and the tree inside the dome already reaches the very top of the domed ceiling. Dangerous, I scribble to accompany my list of impracticalities.

I’m not as poetic as my father, it appears.

Looking around me, nobody cares that I’m here. They have permanent smiles and greet each other in passing like it’s the best day of their lives. Free love goes a long way. It’s notable by the many children clambering about the place.

It’s like taking a step back in time - before the dinosaurs.

“Mr. Coulter.” I recognize this voice, it’s Joe, and I turn my head over my shoulder to acknowledge him. “Johanna sent me to give you these. Initiate quotas, list of recent emergencies... I think there is a crime record in there too, though, it’s not very big. There are other records in her office that she hasn’t had time to put together.” He shifts through some laminated folders until he finds what he’s looking for. “Ah, here it is. It’s actually quite interesting for me, but for you, I’d hardly find anything troublesome.”

I spot Johanna exiting the barn at last in the distance, Jimmy not far behind. A bird flies overhead that captures my attention, and when I look back, I see the flailing red skirt. I step a little closer to him and keep my voice low. “Joe, what’s her story?”

It takes him a minute to catch up, following my eyeline until he sees her. “Ah, yes, Fleur. An assistant of Johanna’s by choice. A good worker. Far more hours than the average.”

“The average woman or man?” My voice is distant.

“Both,” he tells me and I take a moment to frown at him. “Why?”

“She might be a good person for me to talk to.”

“Oh.” He seems disappointed. “You know, I work closely with Johanna more often than not, too?”

“Everything you have said or done is going into the report, Joe.” My smile is forced, but he seems happy enough. “Now, if you don’t mind. I only have one and a half days left to study an entire faction.” He crosses his arms and stands with me for a long time not realizing I’ve dismissed him. When he catches me, he drops his stance, and motions that he’s going elsewhere. I have every faith he will blab to her that I made an inquiry.

I’ll study the faction on foot, take my notes, and begin writing an official document tonight.

The ease to write comes to me by the time the sky begins to darken and I find myself half invested into it beside me while I eat. It’s back in the dome that the Amity folk cram themselves inside to keep warm and share food between each other; families and single members alike. Regardless of the sunshine in the day, the night is cool.

There is a small band playing old instruments in the corner quietly, and I’m fully aware of the darkness of mine and Jimmy’s clothes along with a small squadron standing out in the array of cream and orange.

I find eating easier by now. I’m used to this place. And Jimmy doesn’t seem to be at all bothered, stuffing as much food in his face as possible. “Try the bread,” I goad him, chuckling to myself when he doesn’t bat an eyelid and takes some from the middle. Between the tables there are servers taking finished plates, replacing food. It’s easy to forget our world in a place like this. But I’m like a dog with a bone. I didn’t realize how deep rejection had hit because I spend one-third of my time scanning the tables.

If she was here, what would I even do? Talk to her? - Most likely not. Apologise for being so bumbling before? - No. Explain how it would be incredible if she would take her clothes off for me? That may have worked one time before when I was twenty, but not now. The memory makes me cringe enough as it is. And besides, this is not Dauntless, and I am nothing but a forgettable face.

I haven’t been interested in sexual encounters for so long that this time it’s slightly thrown me. Usually, it’s kind of a convenience; something I fell into, or on. But she didn’t even particularly show she was interested and I wonder if that’s why I’m so irritated. She was only polite because I am a Leader of another faction. Fleur, it’s a dumb name anyway.

“...come with us tonight, we’ll show you around,” a charismatic soldier speaks mainly to Jimmy, filtering into my thoughts.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, and the table seems to be on in some joke. I just stay quiet and sip my water. “Few cabins round here get lively at night. It’s all that peace serum. Peace in the woods. Peace in the fields…”

“Eric?” Jimmy asks. “What you doing after?”

“I’ve got work to do.” I wipe my mouth and stand up, claiming my exit.

“You’re going to miss dessert,” he says, but the guy next to him squeezes his shoulder.

“There’s enough dessert to go around.”

Scoffing, I pick up my notes and make my exit without looking back.

There is something therapeutic about viewing my own writing. Usually, everything is computer based; emails and the like. But in my own handwriting, it’s a sense of accomplishment.

Putting an arm over my head, I sigh back on the limp pillows, drawing the pen up to bite it. As therapeutic as it is, my mind is racing. I glance at my father’s book beside me, under the hue of the orange lamp. This time of night I wouldn’t be in bed. I’d be in the Pit, with Frank, or in my apartment throwing back the nearest concoction.

If they could see me now - legs up, jacket off, pen in hand - they would think something is wrong with me.

The thought forces me to my feet, groaning for the sake of my shoulders persistence. I change into my sweats and gym shoes and prepare myself to take on the unpredictable Amity footpaths.

At first, my pace is slow but with time my muscles begin to give way to the point I’m hammering the paths, between the trees, my own breathing and heart pulsing in my ears. I want to feel the burn. I want to feel the pain.

I push myself to go faster until I’m wheezing, to the point of my body’s refusal. And it all happens at once. My breath catching the cool night air, my chest tight, my shoulder screaming, I stop suddenly and bend down, grimacing to myself.

Maybe that’s what my jumbled thoughts were, a pent-up energy. Running in Amity freely sure beats concrete in Dauntless.

Rubbing my face of the sweat that threatens to drip into my eyes, I put my hands on my hips and breathe in deeply, staring up to what appears to be lifeless cabins bar the one or two with the lights still on. Some I can see clearly into, some just brightly lit curtains. And upon my stroll back, I make random scenarios of what the families are doing inside.

I’m drawing my walk home out for the fact that I have nothing to go back to and what lies waiting for me at Dauntless will be careening back to me the moment I’m home in the afternoon. I’m lost here, like a limbo, nobody to bother me. And I don’t know whether it is a good or bad thing to be left alone with a swirling brain like mine.

Even in the midst of pure moonlight, in the dark - a favorite hour of mine - my sense of purpose is questionable.

A flash of light catches me off-guard; a room being lit up, and I miss my step, frowning until the realization hits me of who I’m watching. Looking to the ground, I contemplate moving on, pocketing my hands like I’ve been caught, though it is merely a coincidence.

But in the mirror of her small room, she doesn’t see me as she stares at herself in the reflection, mousy hair draped over her shoulders which she pulls to one side to brush through. Fleur’s face is anything other than impressed by what she sees, kind of sad, like the impression she gave with her shifty behavior earlier. Standing back and gripping the bottom of her white top, she lifts it in a practiced fashion to show her bare back to me, her front exposed in the mirror, braless, and my lamenting scoff to myself is purposely victorious.

Should I knock and tell her I can see her, that the whole neighborhood could? - Maybe she doesn’t care. Checking around me, everything is deadly quiet, not a soul. If I stand here and watch, does that make me creepy or lustful, or plain lucky?

She unzips the side of her skirt and it falls away from her hips, her hands going to the top of her underwear. Whether it’s only in my mind or not, but it’s painstakingly slow, watching the material drag down her skin.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I whisper to myself.

Smirking, I back away, finding the path back to my cabin. My goal is to have that. My mind's made up.

Jimmy’s about to knock but I throw the door open, his hand still caught in the air. “Goodmorning,” I say, quite cheerily, him rightfully frowning at me. He looks a mess. An obviously late night. I roam over his attire critically. “Sort your uniform out.” My shoulder hits his as I pass, and I can hear him stumbling behind me to keep up. “You’re on stock intake this morning. You need to go to the warehouses and get the annual turnover of produce for me.

“There’s like twenty?”

My smile is anything but pleasant. “Good thing we’re starting early... And there is fifteen. Overhaul is stored at the other faction’s warehouses.”

“Where are you going? How will I find you after?”

“I’ll be around.” A group of Amity pass in their bright clothes. “I’m not exactly hard to miss.”

Eyeing up Johanna’s long barn just pass the dome, my practical head is on top form. Just from a look, Jimmy knows to be on his way, and I march across the dirt still slightly damp from the cooler night.

There is no one inside, the place open to anyone who might be even slightly interested. As a start, I head for the main office. Of course, everything is above the stables, so I take the textured steps up, surveying the open landing and all the rooms filtering off into sections. Down the hall I can see the door open to the makeshift boardroom we were in yesterday and it gives me a better sense of the layout.

Off the large landing, I spy Johanna’s room, open with only glass walls and multiple blurred lines that are pointless for privacy. There are drawers upon drawers and one metal filing cabinet.

This is going to take me the best part of the day.

By eleven, there are voices traveling towards me. In the meantime, I’ve been enthusiastically pulling apart her office. When Johanna appears, I welcome her to the devastation. If she is unhappy, she hides it well. Though, any man could see her eyes drifting around, thinking how the fuck she was going to put this place back together.

Concentrating back to the papers in my hand, my overall discoveries are hardly troubling, more irritating. “I’m ready to visit the holding cells. I have reason to believe they are going to be in a lackluster condition as not fucking once have you filed any criminal activity apart from random names. And some of the dates are missing.” Holding up the paper, a second part of it drops down haggardly. “And, taking a guess, it’s about a hundred years old. It pains me to think of what condition the infirmary is in.” It’s also quite clear Max has done a piss poor job in the past - which I scribble down as a reminder.

“Usually our mishaps are very lowkey.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I say sharply, lifting my head to movement. Fleur glances at me, standing just behind Johanna, but I look away feigning disinterest. “Now, the holding cells?” I insist to which Johanna purses her lips. It’s obvious she was not expecting to find me here, not just yet, and not like this. “Is there a problem?”

“Erm, well, no… It’s just, between eleven and twelve I deal with simple law of the land and community problems. I’m expecting a visit any minute.”

Bingo. I knew as much from yesterday. “No problem. Shall we?” I gesture to Fleur with a tilt of my head. She holds my eyes for a second, then nods and looks towards the floor, turning on her heel. Just as I get to Johanna I stop. “I’m sorry about the mess.”

Johanna forces a smile. “No worries.”

When Fleur stops in front of me in the small lobby of the holding cells, her hands ball into fists as I approach from behind and purposefully brush past her. “What the hell is this?” I burst out upon eyeing the holding area, which consists of literally three square rooms and bars like something out of an old cowboy movie. They are all empty, gathering dust. There is even a hole in the roof beaming in sunlight and exposing particles in the air.

“Johanna doesn’t like to keep anyone in here for more than a few hours, if at all. It’s... inhumane.” I forgot the sound of her voice, soft but listless.

“Right…” I sigh. “This needs to be rectified. With no authority at all, it spells fucking trouble.” Grabbing one of the bars, I wiggle it, hearing it swirl in the concrete. “How do you think she’d feel if Dauntless took over the policing completely? A more permanent arrangement?”

“Probably relieved? She can blame Dauntless for the hospitality then.”

Smirking, I turn to look over at her. She wears red again today, this time a simple dress with it tied in at her waist. There are remnants of a fringe she has grown out, lighter parts in her hair that catch. With her in a light-hearted mood, I’m going to try my luck. “Listen,” my voice comes out like velvet, leaning up against the nearest wall. She’s been watching me roaming over her attire and hasn’t moved a muscle, which can only be seen as a good sign. “I have got to admit something.” Her expression never falters - unreadable. “I was jogging late last night... and I got a nice little surprise show from you in return.”

“Welcome to Amity,” she says unenthusiastically. She’s not embarrassed, she’s not scared, she’s nothing other than bland.

I try a different tactic. “Why do I get the expression you hate me and despise the ground I walk on?”

Shrugging, she strolls over to an old desk, black with dirt apart from a few old handprints, and skims a finger across. Her lips rise ever so slightly as she scoffs, “I don’t hate you. I just don’t know you.”

Weird, as Amity seem to be all about meet-and-greets. “We could change that,” I say, taking a step closer.

“I think you have far too much work to be taking part in getting to know me.”

“I’m a great multi-tasker.” Only my boots scuff along the ground, and she turns when I get up close.

She has ‘come get me’ eyes, long eyelashes that seem to sweep when she blinks or avoids my gaze - like what she is doing right now. “You were watching me?” she asks curiously after a pause.

“It was hard not to.”

“Careful, Dauntless aren’t supposed to show weaknesses. Is a lack of restraint your weakness?”

She’s testing me, I can see it. Using that little womanly innocence she has to dare to ask such questions. “I admit, at times I’m impulsive. But that’s few and far between. You were hardly shy last night. If you didn’t want to be watched then you would have made sure to shut your curtains.”

“If you are expecting me to take my clothes off for you, I’m sorry, but you are going to be greatly disappointed, Mr. Coulter.”

“Worth a try…” That was risky on my behalf, but I like the way she finally smiles to herself, slightly blushing, hardly expecting my reply.

“You are so confident…”

“Kind of comes with the job. I would apologize, but I don’t see what for.”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” She bites her lip, and in my third eye, I see myself ripping at her pretty red dress and bending her over the old desk in here. But I resist, using my ‘restraint’.

Fleur breathes in suddenly and moves away, breaking whatever had begun to shift between us. “We should head to the infirmary… to be finished before twelve.”

“Lead the way,” I gesture. At least I’ll have a nice view on the journey.

“We prefer traditional methods and ailments. The older generation are convinced they don’t need the help of Erudite supplying them. Our treatments work to an extent,” Fleur tells me. “For the treatment they do need - which isn’t available freely - they usually get aid from their families or neighbors to be able to afford it. And if you hadn’t noticed, Amity tend to have big families and a ‘what’s mine is yours’ attitude.”

“You speak like you’re not from Amity yourself?”

Fleur crosses her arms and stops in the corridor of the infirmary, gazing into one of the rooms. “This is my faction. I chose this faction.”

“Did I touch a nerve?” I ask, looking up from my notepad.

“No, I’m over it. My family abandoned me the moment I chose.” She looks to me then smiles gravely. “Did you want to see any other rooms while you’re here?”

“What’s your original faction?”

“It’s been so long it doesn’t matter,” she says quietly. “There are surgery rooms further down if you wanted to check them out. As you can see it’s not in the same state as the holding cells.”

She takes a step but I grab her arm and snarl, “I asked you a question.”

“My chosen faction is my faction. Whatever was is forgotten and I intend on keeping it that way.” Uncurling my hand the moment she gazes down at it, she gathers her composure. “What would you like to do?” I frown at her in confusion and she says, “...It is lunchtime.”

There is something compelling about her. Perhaps it’s the inner strength she has - the coldness, the mystery. Perhaps it’s because she doesn’t show any fear and hardly cowers at all, not even when my mood shifts unpredictably to the ways I act out in Dauntless.

“Have lunch with me?” The question tumbles out, so unlike me. But away from Dauntless, my senses have unwinded; those tight coils of suffocation slowly loosening, the gun next to my bed and the urge to pull the trigger, distant. I want to think about something other than work or myself. And what’s more, is that she makes me want to. That is what I find fascinating. “I’ll be out of your way this afternoon. I won’t be coming back.”

“You’re supposed to be working.”

“I told you, I’m a great multi-tasker. Don’t make it sound like a chore now.” There’s a long moment of silence where I begin to doubt myself. “I don't ask twice.”

A nurse passes between us, greeting us both politely. When she is out of earshot, Fleur puts a hand on the doorframe and loosens her stance. “Okay.” I hadn’t thought past her accepting, and now I’m stumped when she cooly roams over my uniform, lingering at the tattoos on my neck. “But I don’t eat in the dome.”

“I’m good with take-away.”

“What about park benches?”

My frown hurts. And then I realize - my shoulder doesn’t.

Bringing the sandwich up to my mouth, I hesitate. Fleur told me the sandwich bread wasn’t laced with peace serum but I’m always unsure. I glance over to her taking a bite and decide it should be okay. When she moves, it brings my attention away from the small pond we sit in front of, fish just viewable through the murky water skimming the surface on occasion.

“You have a lot of notes,” she says distantly, peering out ahead of her. The papers sit like a wall between us. “I hope Amity cracked up to what it was meant to be.”

“Surprisingly, I haven’t been shocked by anything. It’s not my first time here, it’s just been a while.” Tugging at my collar, my body is screaming for its daily dose.

She picks a piece of bread and throws it into the water. “Amity are good people. I like the fact that we are out of the loop with the other factions. I even believe the Factionless view us differently. We don’t get harassed by them as much as I hear from the others.”

“If you’re digging for what I’m writing about, don’t worry. I’m not aware of any changes apart from basics happening here.” Scowling, I take another bite, sitting further back and throwing a leg out while the nuisance pain strikes with a vengeance.

“I’m not digging.” She’s quiet as she chews. “Can I read them?”

I snort, kicking at the dirt with my outstretched leg. “No.” Rolling my shoulder, I shove the last piece of sandwich in my mouth and sit up, putting my elbows on my knees.

“Can I see?”

“I told you, no.”

“Not the notes, where you have pain.”

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I’m irritated and fidgeting, trying not to show any expression on my face. “My shoulder. It’s nothing. Unless you want me to take my clothes off for any other reason?” I smirk over at her.

“If that were the case, I’d ask you.”

“Mysterious and blunt, what a powerful personality,” I say.

“I could say the same for you… So, you won’t show me anything? Not your writing, not your scars, nor tell me what you are thinking?” There’s a smile to her voice.

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking instead?” I brush her off, reaching for my bottle of water and unscrewing the lid.

“Where is the fun in that? And, you wanted to have lunch with me.”

I forgot I have a kink for inflicting torture upon myself. “You wouldn’t like me all that much if you really knew my thoughts.” Taking a long chug of my water, my hand quakes.

“Who says I like you at all?” She smiles mischievously when I glance over to her which tells me the exact opposite.

“For one, you’re still sitting here, asking me passive questions, and eating a dry sandwich. For two,” my lips rise up all on their own. “You’re trying to trick me into taking my clothes off.” She merely bursts out laughing, and it’s contagious.

Clicking her tongue after her laughter filters out, she sighs softly. “I’m thinking you should take your jacket off.”

“So, I was right?” I grin gleefully, feeling a bit lightheaded from laughing, which is weird because I can’t remember the last time I did.

“Partly.” She stands up and I watch her critically, rounding the bench to stand behind me.

“Which part?” I ask, her hands still stained with henna distracting me when they grip my shoulder, the smell of faint perfume, the pale underside of her arm seeming so delicate. She squeezes, kneading into my neck and it’s hard for me to relax. It’s like feeling constricted, bugs crawling up the skin of my legs. I want to stand up and repel away, instead, I opt to just turn my head and shrug her off. “Don’t.”

“I was only trying to help.” Dejectedly, she clasps her hands, the wind kicking up the skirt of her dress, her hair swaying in the breeze. “I should have asked. Maybe I’ve been in Amity too long.”

My laugh sounds somewhat condescending, yet it’s anything but. “I say that to myself about Dauntless.” Putting a hand through the shaved part of my hair, I’m starting to feel like a cunt.

“Is it because… there is someone in Dauntless waiting for you?”

“It’s because,” I begin, standing up and facing her with the bench as a wedge between us. “It’s,” I exhale sharply, instinctively lifting a hand up to feel the pill bottle inside my jacket. The job I do; only the other night putting a bullet between a sixteen-year-olds eyes, the screams, the blood on my hands. “I’m not worth helping,” I finally finish. “I’m a dangerous man.” Fleur’s eyes flash between mine, the crevice of a frown between her two neat eyebrows. “I’m not looking…” I stammer for the first time in a very long while. “I don’t want or need sympathy.”

Fleur crosses her arms and forces a smile, one that does falter. “If you’re ever going to change your mind…” she trails off, gazing back up the path. She gets up, shaking her head. Brushing past me, she says, “You know what? Don’t even bother.”

I scoff to myself in surprise as I listen to her footsteps fading away, popping the pills and swallow. I snort humorously - who does she even think she is? “I’m not bothering, don’t worry,” I say to no one in particular, feeling like a jackass nonetheless.

“Thank you, Eric, for all the hard work you have put in over the last two days,” Johanna shakes my hand. Hard work? She should try getting from one side of the Pit to the other on a Friday night.

Joe is next, shaking enthusiastically, and I hope to damn god I never see any of them again. “It’s been a real pleasure,” he tells me. “It helps to make us feel a part of the city we live in, though we are so far out of touch.”

“That’s great.” I whack his shoulder hard and turn my back on him, looking to Jimmy behind me. “You ready? He nods and jumps up into the truck, leaving me the window seat. As the truck starts, I keep my eyes out to the front, but I know I’m going to be catching glimpses of red for days - whether that is on my hands, or of Her skirt.

Pulling up to the Lot in Dauntless brings a weight upon my shoulders, namely - my bad shoulder as I roll it out. I was hardly expecting a welcoming party, so to see the one lone man, bringing his arms up in a huge gesture towards himself, is somewhat of a surprise. Frank obviously couldn’t wait for me to get back.

When the engine dies and I hop down, he strolls over with his trench coat open, a massive grin that he’s known for. “My boy!” he exclaims loudly over the emptying of the truck, man-hugging me and patting my back like it’s been years. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling.”

“I haven’t looked at my phone since the reception went. I’ll turn it on tonight,” I say, just as Jimmy tiredly steps to my side.

“How was the honeymoon?” Frank laughs, greeting Jimmy in the same fashion.

Smirking, I peer at Jim. “There was a lot of honey.”

“Is that so?” Frank winks before his expression turns serious. “Eric, we gotta talk. Now.” Suddenly thinking of Max, something ice-cold drops down my back. “You be on your way, Jim.” Corralling me away from the truck, there is a shift in his stance; a lowering of his head, but shoulders stiff, glancing around us. “If I’d have known about Amity, there were a few things I could’ve got you to do - check out for me, while you were there.”

“It was a fast arrangement. I didn’t know until an hour before and I had things to organize.”

“I get that.” He pulls out a cigarette and offers me one, which I take. He waits for the people to filter out of the lot before speaking again, keeping his voice low. “This is more of a personal thing. None of the other boys know.”

I laugh sardonically. “You got secret kids you’re not telling me about?”

“No, man.” He smacks my arm. “I got family in Amity.”

I stare blankly at him for a long moment. “You have family... in Amity? Don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m not,” he assures, taking a long drag. “And family as in just one family member…. I hope. Kind of a sweet-sour subject, so if you’d humor me a little bit of low judgment that would be great.”

“What about them?” I’m growing bored already of his long-ass, splintered sentence structures.

“I want to know how my little flower is doing.” I zone out instantly, thinking of Her. The waves in my brain buzz, my ears ringing. “She won’t speak to me. I get a very brief message from a nobody that goes out there on security turnovers. I tried calling you, boy. And this is why.”

My head begins to throb, specifically over my eyes. I rub my eyebrows frantically, feigning tiredness. “She?” Swallowing, my throat has gone dry, and my gut hasn’t caught up with my mind. “You could have sent an email, that would’ve got to me.”

“You know I prefer face to face or voice to voice for professional purposes. And she, as in, my half-sister.” He runs a hand through his dark hair, flicking his cigarette. “It’s a real long story. Daddy had a side-chick. Side-chick has baby. Sister goes Dauntless to Amity.”

“Why?” I cough suddenly, making Frank laugh. “Why have you never told me?”

“No reason to. You know what I said in the past, right? About people finding connections and…” he trails off distantly, staring over at the truck. “...weaknesses. It’s always used against you.” He grips my shoulder, meeting my eye. “Are you going back to Amity?”

“I don’t intend to. But then, I haven’t seen Max. And I won’t know anything until tomorrow. Got some work to do at home to get this finished.”

“So, you’re not heading out with us tonight?”

I shrug, “Duty calls,” knocking his hand from my shoulder.

“You get the word you’re visiting Amity again, you tell me, brother. I mean it.” Come to think of it, as I face him, he looks like he hasn’t slept in days. I wonder if this is what Max had seen in me the night before he sent me to Amity. “Let’s get out of here, it’s freezing. Balls are going to drop off…” He begins to walk away, towards the parking lot’s steel door. “You up for a beer?”

I’m still far behind, hands shoved into my pockets, following a crack in the ground before letting my head tilt up, trying to seem impassive. “What’s her name?” My voice cuts through the chilled air, and Frank hesitates for the best part of several seconds, holding the door open, one foot in, one foot out, like my mind and loyalties. Maybe a sign, an unconscious sign…

“Fleur,” he says. Slowly, he points inside. “Beer?”

“No. Got work to do,” I say.

“Hm, work.” He pouts for a moment, seemingly thinking of talking back but eventually just nods. “I’ll catch you tomorrow morning then.”

My holdall is dumped the moment I set foot inside the door, slamming it shut behind me, looking at the pitiful excuse of the place I call home. It’s far from the freedom of Amity; a dungeon, a place where my most decrepit thoughts linger, hitting me straight in the face.

I pace a few times up and down, past the kitchen island, eyeing up my laptop on the end. The moment I turn it on I know the emails will come flooding in, my initiate reports long and boring. But what I can also do is search the database through my home laptop, using the network accessed by senior members, like myself, Max, Frank…

Running a hand down my face, the realization of spending almost half a day with Frank’s sister; seeing her naked, lusting after her, trying my hand at flirting, is wrong. If he found out…

The thought strikes me that perhaps someone saw me with her. That maybe an informant will give their information to Frank. My part was totally innocent. I didn’t know who she was, and now her first reaction to me makes sense. He called her Flower, a nickname. I asked her about the meaning of it and her mood dampened quickly.

She’s hiding in Amity from him. No contact, he said. No contact on her behalf means she knows more than she lets on about Dauntless, about Frank. She knows things about Frank that could be dangerous.

Was Frank also fobbing me off about his whole weaknesses speech? We all have family. We all come from somewhere. So why would he call it a weakness? I don’t have attachments, but most of the other guys do. So why does that make Frank hold this secret?

The laptop is open and I’ve perched myself in front of it without being completely conscious of it. I type in the passwords angrily, scorning myself. I should have seen it. I should have known.

The Dauntless logo is at the top right of the page, a search bar to place a name or location in the middle. I don’t know her second name, I doubt it will be Frank’s. Fleur and Amity are all I have.

It takes a minute to load while I chew my thumbnail, propping my arms up on the counter. Suddenly the information springs up, her picture - that same mysterious, lost appearance that had me so caught up. Her name, Fleur Morey, Amity identification: 1247745, DOB: July 7th, making her twenty-five, seven years younger than Frank. Other than that, her information is basic. But at least she is legit. Though, there are no specifics on family.

With no email or number, she really has cut herself off from Frank.

I can’t admit to him that I met her because that opportunity had escaped me the moment he told me her name and I stared back blankly. I should have mentioned it then, but I didn’t, and logically, I’m unsure of why.

My phone buzzes loudly, snapping me out of my trance-like state. Grabbing it from my pocket and putting it to my ear, Max talks first. “Eric, I hear you’ve returned. Because I haven’t seen you I guess you’ve gone back to finish up the report on Amity? - And that, because you answered your phone, you’re not out with Frank?”

“I’m just going over the notes,” I lie, with the picture of Fleur staring back at me. It makes me feel a little creepy, stalking her after only recently departing, but it’s within good reason. “I’ll have it done tonight.”

“Other than that?”

I log out, clicking off the database. “Everything was… fine.”

Max sighs down the phone. “No hard feelings for sending you out there?”

“You know me, I’m one for expressing myself quite clearly.”

He chuckles to himself. “See you at the morning meeting.” He ends the call without my reply; the light dying on the face of the phone when I put it on the counter, leaving me to sit here in an eerie silence. Alone again.

Entering into the boardroom for our usual meeting, I take a seat next to Frank. Though, he’s quiet. Too quiet. Barely glancing my way with his legs crossed and watching his own foot bounce impatiently on his knee.

Max is up front, standing authoritatively, the group waiting. “Eric has returned from Amity with a very fine report. It’s believed from the conditions he was met with, that the holding area they have within Amity is in poor condition along with any crime-log or activity, which makes it hard in general for Dauntless to operate.” Frank’s burning stare is at the side of my face but I ignore him, acting like I’m too enthralled with this speech. “He’s advised a permanent fixture. Someone to be named head of the project.” A woman at the front that’s always hovering around Max looks over her shoulder at me and I stare her out until she ducks away. “As we are prominent members of Dauntless, I think this matter should be discussed between us. A decision will be made today.”

Frank taps my leg. “You missed out last night,” he whispers, watching Max carefully. “Two detailed hits sent to Jeanine, deviating Max. She’s dealing with the backlash. Heath banged his long lost love, Pepper. And Jimmy whitied.”

Running my tongue along every individual tooth helps to stop my mouth from getting away from me. For the first time, when I glance at Frank, he irritates the living shit out of me. The nonsense he drawls seeming hardly thought-provoking. I couldn’t care less, but find myself pondering over whether Jimmy is alright or not.

Flexing my hands out, Frank taps me again, and this time I painfully clamp my eyes shut. Maybe Fleur was right, my lack of restraint is terrible. “I want you in on tonight's,” he tells me.

I turn my head and look him up and down slowly. “I’ll be in on tonight’s if I’m not busy. Since when did you feel the need to tell me what I’m doing?” His eyes glint, his top lip quirking into more of a snarl than a smirk. “I don’t take orders from you.”

“Not yet,” he smiles fully, motioning with his head towards Max. “But maybe someday you will.”

“Then that’ll be the day.”

“Eric!” Max’s voice booms suddenly, stopping me and Frank from sneering at each other. Neither of us had heard him calling me for the last couple of minutes, and that the room is quiet. “Eric, this entire boardroom is in favor of you representing Dauntless for Amity. I’m sure, as you have been once already, Johanna would be very pleased with your presence.”

“Thrilled,” I say, and Frank leans back with a scoff in his chair.

“You start immediately. Arrangements should be made for next week.” Max nods to the woman who is his insufferable shadow, handing her some papers. “Meeting dismissed.” The room moves except for me and Frank.

“I saw this coming,” Frank begins, sounding somewhat disappointed. “You’re going to be fucking off to Amity every week. It’s going to be occupying all your time.”

“Get off my back.” I go to stand but he grips my arm, my hand whipping back to his wrist, a defensive maneuver. “You really want to do this?”

“No, but do you?”

“Where exactly are you going with this?” I ask, shoving his arm away and flexing my shoulder. “You’ve been a little bitch all morning.”

“There’s something bothering me about you and I can’t figure out what it is. Maybe it’s just me. But I’ll tell you what I’m thinking, we’ve always been straight with each other, haven’t we?” He purposely smiles with all teeth. “I’m doubting how well you’ll hold up with what’s in store for Max. You know, last night was the first time you put us aside for work?”

“I’m doing my job. The job comes first.” That may be the first time I’ve said that.

“We come first. Or have you already forgotten?”

“I haven’t forgotten anything, but this is new. You’re like a bitter wife I left behind.” Frank’s never vocalized what comes first, it’s always been my guess, but right now I know he’s trying to lay it on, trying to break information from me. He’s looking for a way in, to stab the knife and twist it until I submit. “We are Leaders of a faction.”

“You’re also a sick man. A sick man who relies on medication. That was the deal. If you can’t turn up, you get turned out. And that ain’t pretty. Tonight, Eric.”

My eye twitches, casting a glare at him, one that would make any other person back down, but not Frank. “Fuck you,” rumbles out of my chest without any conceivable thought. “Fuck you. That was low - even for you.” As I stand up, my attention is drawn to a person by the door, leaning up against it - Leroy. He’s heard the tail end of our conversation, it’s written all over his face.

My back is so stiff, my muscles screaming to inflict pain on the next poor bastard. But they won’t get the better of me. As I get to him, he doesn’t move and I purposefully stop, staring coldly, unspeaking. I suddenly fake a large step towards him, causing him to jolt back in surprise and hit the frame. “Pussy,” I say with a smirk.

Heath keeps looking over from the seat next to me in the back of the car. This confirms he probably only knows partly of what’s happening. - Or maybe it’s just the pissed off look on my face

Leroy drives, and it’s Candor we are visiting, the great building in front of us. My mood is sour. I couldn’t care less, and I’m not enjoying being in Leroy’s or Frank’s company. “Leroy should take this one,” I say as the car stops, copying him from the night he elected Jimmy.

“We all go,” Frank frowns back at me.

“Wow, what a different attitude.” I yank on the handle of the door and open it, slamming it shut behind me. They are whispering in there in their few spare seconds and I don’t doubt it’s about my behavior. But I will not be told what to do. And I will act the cunt as much as I fucking want.

Hey, after all, Frank wanted me here tonight. Specifically tonight. And I’m going to make him regret it.

Tapping the window, I smile at Leroy. “Come on, you’re not backing out now, are you? I could really do with shooting some innocents again tonight. We tend to have a knack for it. Get’s me off,” I snarl the last part with a fake grin at his level in the window.

“Cut the shit, Eric,” Frank snaps as he emerges from the vehicle, lighting a cigarette. He inhales heavily and closes his eyes before he speaks. “Two refusements to pay tonight. You know the deal.”

We know the deal. The hand I’ve been dealt is bullshit.

“Please, please, please. I’ll do anything. I don’t have the points right now. There must be something?” The woman begged. Leroy glanced over to Frank while I stood back with Heath with a gun to her husband's head. “The medicine is for me, not him.” None of us moved, nor acknowledged her at first until Frank breathed in and crouched down to her level on the floor where she sat pleading on her knees in front of Leroy.

“You get one warning, sweetie,” Frank said, pushing back some of her hair. The husband moved and I pressed the barrel hard onto his forehead. His eyes met mine, and if only he knew how hard it was in that moment to keep myself passive. I could see the hate boiling under his surface. He would kill me now if he could. Even if the most harmless man was pushed hard enough, they will kill. “Then you get us at your door for your last chance. ...And you still can’t pay up.” He shook his head for dramatics. “What are we supposed to do?”

“Please,” she sobbed.

“She has a beautiful mouth,” Leroy spoke quietly. My eyes slid from the horror in her husbands towards Leroy getting a little closer to her. There was something different, something dark that I’d neither heard nor seen before. Leroy and Frank were pretty close, but from my new understanding, because they were just as sick as each other. Me and Frank had a different relationship - we used our heads.

“Indeed she has,” Frank said, letting a thumb slip across her lower lip.

I knew what I needed to do.

“Eric, you okay there?” Max asks, weaving behind his desk with a coffee. “You zoned out.” I feel cold all over, peering out towards the window.

I pulled the trigger. The backlash of warm blood splattered across my face from point-blank range.

My hand twitches with the noise of the gun in my memory and I whip my head back to Max. “What were you saying?”

“What the fuck, Eric?!” Frank called out, the husband's body slumping on the floor in front of me. Frank stumbled back and Leroy jumped to the side as I swung my gun towards the woman. She screamed, momentarily. But it was for the best.

I grip my hands together, blinking rapidly. Max seems to watch me closely for a minute, sipping his coffee. “Did you want one?” He gestures with the cup and I shake my head. “I have to admit, I’m impressed with the work you did. It’s detailed - can tell it’s your own words, of course,” he chuckles. “You haven’t lost it.”

“He moved,” my voice droned, putting an end to the night.

Raising my eyebrow, all I can think is, ‘Really? Because I feel like I’ve lost my damn mind.’

“You seem to be taking the thought of representing the adjustments in Amity pretty well.”

“Initiation is ending. I need something to focus on.” My thumbs twirl around each other. I need to stop this. I’m being too obvious.

“I’m glad you think so.”

“Don’t criticize me,” I say.

He sits back in his chair and crosses his legs. “I’m giving you full authoritative permission on this. Your word is as good as mine. I’ll let all relevant parties know. But just…” He hesitates, rolling his lips to grimace. “Just don’t let me down.” He scoffs and turns in his chair more to the side. “I know I’m giving myself grief, having to try and coerce Frank into listening to a damn word I say. I was hoping I could work on him. Perhaps try and build a better relationship, if only for work.”

“Good luck with that.”

Max smiles somewhat then goes into a drawer next to him. “Radio, because the reception gives me a headache out there.”

“Add that to the long list of improvements,” I scoff sarcastically.

“I’m pretty sure the folk out there make sure to keep it that way.”

I sigh tiredly. “They are interesting.” The vow I told myself, to never linger in the land of regret, comes two-fold. The words I spoke aloud, saying I didn’t want sympathy, or that I couldn’t be helped were far from the truth. At the time, my back bristled and I responded the only way I knew how. But I brought back that sensitivity from Amity. The book my father wrote, viewing a relaxed life, the touch of someone who cared, which couldn’t gain anything from me, has ignited something. The gun in my mouth seems far away. The will to live harsher. Questioning everything that only a week ago I was passionate about.

The words are out before I can stop them, “Be careful with Frank. He’s a loose cannon at the best of times.” Standing up quickly, I take the radio, heading for the door.

“And like you ain’t?” he smiles. But if he’s smart, he’ll understand.

For the next few days, my life consisted of paperwork leading up to the Amity visit and arranging a new schedule, solidifying that the quota is capable between our security. In the night, I found myself just on simple visitations - premier warnings. Whether I was purposefully back seated or not, I didn’t focus on it. But I did see them afterward, joining them in the Pit. Though, it did feel like there was a distance between us. How they kept themselves to one side and I sat with Jim or Heath. My part as top dog in our faux brotherhood was shifting. I’m not blind to it. The question was, did I care?

...Not if my pain medication still fell into my hand every week.

That all fades into the background when my second official visit to Amity arrives. This time it will take me a few days, three to four to sort out how well this will work. And if what they say is true - that there isn’t a lot of problems with criminal activity or suspicious behavior. Because not only do I want to know why - so I can study it - but also if there is some backhanded business taking place. I have to say, a straggled bunch of factionless, fed and watered, then packed off into the sunrise sounds a little far-fetched.

The trucks are loaded, three to be precise, out in the Lot, ready for departure. I’m opening the cab door, checking whether I have my radio when I hear Frank call my name. I turn and he gestures to himself as per usual, like I should be in awe at the sight of him and says, “What’s up?”

Tightening my belt around my waist, I tap the knife on my leg to make sure it’s secure. “What is it?” I ask him, hardly paying attention while he holds the door for me.

“Shit’s been crazy busy. With the whole…” he rolls a hand out, saying, “Jeanine thing,” quietly. “I’m hoping when you get back we’ll have more of a chance to talk.”

“Yeah,” I say unenthusiastically. “I’ll be gone a few days.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s cool.” He crosses his arms and looks shifty, so I pause, turning to face him. “Look, er... You remember what we talked about before? About family?”

“Oh yeah, a secret sister.”

He smiles and it drops quickly. “Can you find her? See what’s going on? How’s she's doing?”

“Why don’t you go to Amity when you next get the chance?” I brush him off.

Frank laughs. “She’d probably shoot me on sight.”

My eyes narrow in suspicion. “Don’t get along?”

“Brotherly-sisterly love. You know, that old cliche.”

I don’t believe a word of it, clambering up into the cab as he still stands with the door wide open. “I won’t go intentionally looking. But if I bump into her…”

“As long as that’s the only bumping you’re doing,” he subtlety warns me. It’s a normal tone, but I know he means it. He salutes, letting the door close.

When the engine starts and we pull off, I watch him in the side mirror, dragging a hand down his face. For the first time viewing him torn or a little lost at the sight of us trundling towards his precious Fleur. I can’t help but smile to myself. And hope, that when I get back Max is still around.

It’s late afternoon by the time we arrive and have the equipment unpacked. Johanna stands at a distance for the most part with a group of people, some of the Amity getting involved and helping. I am designated the same cabin as before, refusing the assistance of Joe quickly, assuring him I’m not stupid and can remember from the last instance.

We are offered a long table at dinner, and this time it’s quite riveting to see the plentiful uniforms of black swarming around the pinks and yellows. With no tag-along with me, I’m left alone, able to eat without a continuous droning in my ear. I’ve had my painkillers in advance, a full stomach, for once feeling pretty alert to the usual aches as the outside light fades fast with the evening.

Taking a sip of water, I look between the rows of tables, conscious of the fact that I’m not being watched, not by anyone, not like I am in Dauntless.

A wry smile begins to form across my face when I see Fleur enter. Avoiding the rows of tables, she grabs the last dregs of food from the lineup. She doesn’t wear red, but something pale orange. Whatever it is, it’s hideous.

Only when she steps through the archway on her exit do I get to my feet, following in pursuit. I know she knows something. She knows about what Frank does, she has to. And she’s heightened my sense of curiosity.

She takes the main path lit by solar paneled lights while I opt for the cover of darkness. She’s loud and uncaring when she walks, not the slightest clue I’m following. I round the back of the cabins as it merges into the forest, catching glimpses of her, even when she stops and taps something on her leg. Fleur looks behind her this time but continues on.

There is a bend in the path, narrowing next to a dark and unoccupied cabin, and I target that as my point of contact. Stepping onto the path, she suddenly takes a left, past a tree I hadn’t thought about.

I curse softly, I’ve lost her. But I still get to the tree, running along one of these shit built sheds.

My reactions are based on instinct as suddenly an arm with the knife darts out and a little hand tries perilously to grab my jacket. The knife clatters to the ground after a mere tap to the soft underside of the wrist, disarming Fleur quickly. I’m able to pull the balled fist from my jacket, spinning her and restraining it behind her back as her chest hits the side of a building.

“Careful. You’ll hurt yourself,” I hiss, listening to her breathing heavy.

“Why are you following me?”

With her hair in a ponytail, I can see the fine hairs at the back of her neck, the slope to her shoulder and down, leaning purposefully into her. “Now, why is an Amity so jumpy?” I ask sardonically. “So frightened?” I loosen my grip and spin her to face me, pushing back on one of her shoulders to keep her in place.

“How’s my little flower doing?” Her eyes widen, and I can’t help the one-sided smirk on my lips as I finally get a reaction.

#woke #chapter 2 #eric coulter #divergent #insurgent #beautifulramblingbrains #jai courtney #fanfiction #fanfic #eric divergent fanfiction

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