#I wrote this like. Nearly as soon as I processed everything from that session (so in the middle of making the linked comic)

[landfilloftrash]

A Moment Before...

This had been… a very long week.

That was really all Enososin thought as she walked back down the Astronomy tower’s stairs, and let her thoughts wander. She held Rollo’s hammer under wings and cloak as she walked through the hallways leading back to the Saint’s chamber.

Three days upon the sea with the Navy after Father Dolmayan had asked her to take care of this mission; she hadn’t been fond of the idea, considering all of the superstitions about priests on board— that wasn’t even taking into account the ones about women on board. But when she was told about the fact that they were off to destroy Nassau by order of the King, and he had requested a Blood Cleric, she figured– out of everyone– that she probably wasn’t the worst pick in this situation. Three days upon the sea and helping Silver out, and convincing the Nassauean people that she truly meant no harm; she only wanted them all to survive.

A day or two after the Navy left, and then they set out upon the waves once more, this time on a five day mission to go help Davy Jones. At least, that was the official objective; with the discovery of the blood scrying cubes, and Sol finding one connected to Saint Rollo— and upon viewing, seeing the slaughter of Father Dolmayan, the one who had sent her out on that ship therein, Eno’s far more pressing objective was to get back to him.

Five days of meeting God and gods; from Hades and Charon, to Hermes and Poseidon. Of meeting Zeke and their childlike innocence and delight. Of helping Scylla with her poisonous bellyache. Of beating up two doppelgangers, one resembling herself and one of Lockwell. Of wondering what in God’s name was happening to the King? What was he tinkering with? What did it do besides “defend the country”? How did it do that? Why was the Order of Blood seemingly connected with that entire debacle, but not in the way they thought? Speaking of— When and why on Earth did the Order of Blood have a blood cube connected to Lockwell, and to Davy Jones himself?? How did they get one from Rollo? Or General Lobo? Hell— she even wondered how they’d gotten it from the King— who had provided all of them? Was there a spy amongst every single faction doing this?

Six days of wondering if Rollo was alright. Six days of wanting so desperately to look into the cube and simply check on him. But not wanting to invade his privacy. Upon landing on the shore of Kingston, that dearly familiar city now turned into a death trap for her new friends. Today had felt like a month had been squeezed into a few short hours. Setting out as covert as a priest could be, in this place; meeting Charon, the Ferryman. A conversation with him leaving her both fairly intrigued by the minor god, and the bubbling concern nigh almost overflowing at his serious words in regards to the Saint. Easily sliding into the trees of her youth, grown along with her, and finding Rollo. Pulling him back to her; her father– her dad. Making their way back to the Church, keeping him away from possible prying eyes. Talking to Saint Clemens, and then to Saint Celestine locked away in the Astronomy tower, searching the stars, and discovering that everything in the world was very quickly twisting into a horror story.

Saint Celestine could be wrong, of course, because like any mortal, even Saints could make mistakes— even if it were a tad bit more unlikely for that to occur— but first of all, she trusted the older Aasimar to understand the stars and their whispers far better than any normal mortal, and second of all, after seeing what she had seen through the blood cubes, she was far more inclined to believe her.

The Gods rotting however, was something that concerned her greatly; possibly not as much as the fact everyone else was rotting too, but it was still at the forefront of her mind after that conversation. Gods… were considered all-powerful (aside from limitations they had set by/for themselves like all creatures of divine nature) by most people, including herself. So hearing that… 

It would definitely explain why the Saints, the more divine/spiritually inclined of the mortal realm, were shifting and becoming as unbalanced as the spiritual world.

But those subjects were for Rollo and Celestine to discuss, seeing as she had asked Enososin to call him up, and she shook herself as she approached Rollo’s door. Her claws seemed to click far louder than they should in the silence.

Now, normally, it was rather quiet in this section of the building— seeing as they were sleeping chambers, as well as the fact most people that lived in the church were simply more quiet in their day to day— added with the fact that she had requested it by the sisters so he wouldn’t be disturbed? Dead quiet shouldn’t be unusal. But still, the noise from outside or around the building should at least permeate the air to make some sound, even involuntary.

But she heard nothing. A very distinct nothing. Her feathers started to raise in warning.

Steps much lighter, she cautiously gave a quiet little knock on Rollo’s door to see if he was just, in-fact, sleeping; she wouldn’t blame him if he were. He himself had said that he hadn’t really slept, and the couple of times she had checked on him in the span of their five day trip, she had only caught him resting once, uneasily, stress and sorrow written even into his sleeping features, and she had felt for him. During their confrontation, the deep exhausted circles and constant sleep deprived twitching as he talked bespoke of it just as much as his wild fervor and not realizing the state of himself did.

But any sort of thought process she had was shattered as there was a roar— only barely muffled by the wooden door— of words directed at her, crashing into each other in a near slurringly way that she could not understand, but the intent of them was extraordinarily clear; ‘Go away’. 

“Rollo,” she called quietly, startled as she was from her ponderous reverie, “it’s just me!”

“Go’way anyway!” Came the gruff response, not quite as loud but just as firm as the last declaration.

She leaned back from the door and blinked rapidly. The owlin was baffled. What on Earth had happened in the brief amount of time while she wandered, spoken to the dwarven Father, and visited Saint Celestine? 

“Why?” She called back, as thoughts raced through her mind; had she done something wrong? No, because there hadn’t been enough time between her leaving him to get cleaned up and coming back on Celestine’s request. And besides, he wasn’t like her where those few minutes could result in a broken arm or leg and a bloodied countenance— wait— oh gods above and below had someone attacked him? Panic now tinged her voice as she followed with— “What’s wrong?”

“I am not safe to be around,” came the bassy growl, “I do not think I can control this thirst for blood. It is not safe for you! Leave me be!”

Oh.

She leaned back on her clawed heels. Well then.

Enososin stood there, staring at the door, and debated his words. She respected Rollo far too much to not do so. 

He genuinely sounded pissed off, and she could count on one hand how many times that had happened. In fact, two of those fingers would be for today alone. But simply considering how he sounded, and the actions being taken at the moment, the fact of the matter was— he was pushing her away in some misguided attempt to protect her, possibly at the cost of his own comfort and health; that she absolutely could not stand. 

She sent a brief look to the ceiling’d heavens and whispered, “Forgive me Father, because I’m asserting my authority as his daughter by coming in anyways.”

She opened the door like a shield, just in case, because as much as she was concerned and curious, she was also cautious and heeded her father’s words. Eno had no idea why he had said what he’d said, but she had in fact taken them to heart. 

She simply had decided confirming her father’s safety was far more important than any sort of reprimand he could give her for it.

Peeking inside she promptly froze at the scene. Saint Rollo had always kept a very neat and respectable appearance; the scene before her was nigh beastial in comparison. He was on his hands and knees, with no shirt to be seen as it revealed a geometric designs curling and cutting around muscles that were definitely not just for show— those normally red tattoos were now flecked with black and looking like it was poisoning him, and his back was deeply bowed in a near mimicry of prayer, as his wild, long untamed red hair nearly brushed the floor in the posture. 

Seeing his hair ruffled and in disarray at the shrine she could easily chalk up to pure mental exhaustion; seeing it completely unbraided was so unusual it made her balk for a moment in her observation. As a child, she could recall having seen it in this state a few times in her memory; braiding it herself with delight those times due to an injury of his— as an adult, however, never.

But the truly main thing that caught her attention, and shoved every single thing that contradicted what she knew was her father’s normal off to the side, was the fact that one of his hands was clawing so deeply into his shoulder that blood was falling freely and very very quickly. 

Eno rushed over in concern; his appearance change was radical, and her brain froze a moment before clicking back into gear, but that was considerably small potatoes to her compared to his very clear distress.

She slid to her knees nearly in front of him and gently pried his hand away from his poor shoulder with both hands before keeping one on his shoulder and the other rubbing circles into the offending appendage.

A gently colored pink light glittered below her hand as she murmured words for cure wounds to take effect on the damage Rollo had dealt himself, and she felt her soul’s tie connect to his as it began.

She nearly stopped concentrating from the shock to her system the difference between the time she’d connected to him last and now.

Eno had always connected to Rollo easier, in a magic sense as well as a social sense. The healers here were probably some of the only ones who had connected as often to her as Rollo had, and even then, it was sometimes both of them connecting to her. His magic was tightly woven and strong: as bright and warm as a pleasant summer day at noon, and often served as a beacon for her to locate him if she’d somehow ‘misplaced’ him— or more accurately, when she was younger, he had misplaced her. 

It was just as familiar to her as his smile.

This was the equivalent of getting ice water poured on her, as she took in the frayed, bloodied state of his soul. It didn’t stop her from healing him— in fact, it caused her to be more thorough than she originally might’ve. But— The words of both Charon and Saint Celestine rung like alarm bells in her mind as she took in his state, and dread crawled from the depths of her soul and twisted her innards into a Gordian knot.

Oh God.

She should be horrified. This was something she had years and years of experience of being connected to— the glowing braid of someone’s life, someone she dearly, dearly cared about, someone who had functioned as a beacon of warmth and light; that had been Rollo’s healing, lovingly teaching hand. So, so frayed and bloody and different and just—

Seemingly a Saint no longer in the eyes of the universe’s laws. She should take the fallen’s advice and leave him be, for he had already warned her that he wasn’t sure he could contain the bloodthirst. 

His own blood was now on his hands.

So it really didn’t surprise her that her first instinct was to clutch the implement causing his harm closer to her, bordering on protective. She looked at her father and felt nothing but pure loyalty. If God, the Father of them all, wanted to turn His back on he who had never turned his back on her, who had picked her up every time she’d stumbled, then they were going to have strong words later. She would stay by Rollo’s side as he weathered this storm he found himself in, and no God nor Devil could warp her mind into not doing so.

The pink light of her healing magic brightened briefly with her conviction and turned the deep cuts into clean greyish-pink lines; soon to become dark grey again as the new skin healed. She eyed them critically before once again detaching herself from their connection and once more focused on Rollo himself. 

“I cannot hear the voice of God; the light is gone.” He growled. The vibrations of his voice rumbled so deeply she could almost mistake the hurt and fear for pure anger. 

Her heart ached for her poor papa. 

Using her now free second hand to press his hand tighter in order to grab his scattered attention she murmured with fervor, “Then I shall just have to keep listening for the both of us, hm?”

He was silent, but the tightened grip upon her claws spoke for him. She relaxed a fragment at the squeeze. No matter the changes happening, this was still the man who raised her, and that fact alone soothed her. As long as she took these new things in stride and adapted with him, then she would make sure they both survived this; no matter how frightening it all was.

“I came by to tell you Saint Celestine is looking for you—” Rollo glanced up as she continued, “she has something to tell you, apparently. And if it’s anything like she told me, it’s not great.”

“What did she tell you?” He asked, quietly. 

“Well,” she sighed, like it was a silly little antic of a child she was about to divulge, “apparently the King swung by, who is apparently rotting by the way, along with the Gods. Everyone is rotting. And Thimblewinter is coming, that too.”

He blinked. A brief moment before he seemed to come to a decision as they sat there, and slammed the ground with his free hand before standing up smoothly. Eno followed him up and released his hand as he seemed to fortify himself before her eyes. “We have wasted time, then. I will go speak to her.”

“Perhaps, you should grab a shirt before you go?” She suggested, a mite playfully, because as concerning as it was initially, it was a tad funny simply seeing her dad go around bare-chested for more than three seconds.

He seemed to consider it for a fraction of a second before he shook his great head. “No. I’ll be fine.”

She briefly remembered when she was younger, other people staring at her father in a way her childish mind didn’t recognize, but with the gift of adult hindsight, was with a very intense appreciation for his form. She sent a playful little prayer for strength for the people who were going to deal with him like this.

As a second question— a silent one this time— she offered his hammer to him; it wasn’t her trying to force it upon him, simply a question of ‘Do you feel comfortable carrying this now?’

He reached over and grasped it. He then shifted his position to hold it, and it once again caused her brain to break just a little; Rollo carried that hammer as a staff. A third leg, a part of him he respected not to use carelessly, and rarely wielded it like he was now— a tool. 

Both of them seemed to recognize this fact at once, and he held it out back to her. “You keep it,” he insisted. 

“Alright,” she conceded, taking the weapon back. It hummed in her grip as she once again held it like a staff, “Go, go. I’ll wait for you near the front.”

Rollo nodded and set off the way she came. 

Eno briefly eyed the picture sitting on his bedside, and wondered if she should take that with her. But no, that was Rollo’s. If he wished to bring it, then he’d do so— but in this brief moment, she took the time to look at it.

It was a day in time where she was no longer just a foundling of the church, but rather a youth amongst it. It might’ve even been the day that was officially announced— it was over a decade ago, so she wasn’t completely sure however. It was rather cute, though she couldn’t help but wince in amusement at how her feathers were still quite downy and that look of mischief not yet contained was perfectly captured in her eyes. Rollo himself seemed pleased and perfectly content with the little monster beside him, and if she squinted, she could see flowers stuck in his braid. The angle wasn’t the greatest for that, but she did definitely remember that aside from bringing dead mice and small birds like a cat, she did have a tendency to sneak little flowers into his braid when she could. Generally much lower, but sometimes she managed to get them closer to his shoulders, and this was clearly one of those times.

She could see why he’d kept it.

Sighing, she headed out of the room and closed it behind her— she didn’t think she’d need anything from her room (maybe grabbing a spare change of clothes wasn’t the worst idea, however)— and headed out towards the main sector of the Church.

She was barely a short jog away when something snagged her attention. 

There was screaming, she started running, and then she met Abaddon.

[oh-ranpo]

stay, don’t go.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader warnings: angsty angst an: I don’t know, I just wrote it lmao word count: 2.4k+

“And if he was wrong about you, he was wrong about me!”

You kept hearing those words replaying over and over in your head. You knew that he had been upset about Sam giving up the shield, but you were surprised at how you hadn’t seen these particular emotions coming. There were a lot of things that Bucky worried about, but this burden of a thought broke your heart even more than usual. It was the most transparent he had been in months, and you hadn’t even been the one he was opening up to. Not that it mattered all that much, but now, you were struggling to find a way to help with the newly re-opened wound.

After the therapy session with Sam, Bucky had withdrawn into himself even more. Even though you had been waiting right outside the door, it was almost as if he didn’t see you at all when he walked through it. You had reached for his hand, and he had let you take his, but he didn’t say a word to you. 

He’s had a rough day, you had told yourself. Getting arrested on top of everything else he was dealing with had to be a lot. He just needed some time to process it all. 

Only, now, it was five hours later and he still hadn’t said a thing. You managed to get some hums in response to your prompting, and a shrug here and there, but no actual words fell from his lips. The anger from earlier in the day had dissipated, and now his shoulders drooped as he seemed to be carrying the world on his shoulders. Not that this was anything new to you either. It was a look you had long grown used to, but after hearing his outburst at therapy, you had a better idea than usual as to what was causing his pain this time.

Bucky had taken a spot in one of the chairs in the corner of your shared hotel room, and his blue eyes were fixed on the wall in front of him as he seemed to be attempting to stare a hole through it. You could practically hear the gears in his head turning, and you were sure that if you could read his thoughts, you wouldn’t be able to handle the emotional turmoil that lay inside. When you couldn’t get him to talk, you decided to order some food - something that you knew he liked - and then sat down in the chair next to him. 

“Food should be here soon,” you told him, as if he couldn’t hear you placing the delivery order just five minutes prior from the other side of the room. This time, Bucky didn’t even bother acknowledging what you had said as his hand came up to rest under his chin. He was still staring at the same spot on the wall, and his eyes were squinting slightly as he seemed to be deep in thought.

You sighed as you glanced down at your watch and saw that it was getting later in the evening, and you wondered what Sam was up to. The three of you had parted ways after the police station, and Sam had barely said anything to you or Bucky when you left. You could make out some of their conversation through the door during therapy, but really the only part you had heard clearly were Bucky’s words. And it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the ‘he’ Bucky had been referring to was Steve. This was what his whole trip had been about in the first place.

You knew that you couldn’t go the whole night without addressing the elephant in the room, but you also knew how Bucky was when it came to opening up. Even with you. You knew that, besides Sam, you were one of the only people that he trusted since Steve passed away, and you didn’t take that lightly. You really only pressed when you knew that it would be good for him to talk about something, and this was one of those times.

“Bucky?” You started again, using his name this time in an attempt to draw his attention away from the wall. He didn’t look over at you at first, but slowly, as you waited patiently, they started to trail over in your direction. When his eyes finally met yours, you gave him a small, sad smile as you leaned against the arm of the chair closest to him. “About what you said to Sam today…” 

You didn’t get a chance to finish your thought before Bucky was swiftly moving out of his seat. The movement caught you by surprise, as he had seemed so relaxed - well, as relaxed as he could be given the situation - but now he was running his hands through his hair as he started pacing in circles.

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” he mumbled, as his hand ran over his face, and his other gloved hand shoved into the pockets of his jeans. Slowly, you stood up from your own chair and made your way over to him, your hand reaching out for the sleeve of his jacket before he harshly pulled it out of your grasp. 

His entire reaction was confusing you because usually, he just shut down. He didn’t get this visibly worked up, he just shut down and refused to give you any emotion or feedback on how he was feeling. Now, you could tell that he was upset, and from the look on his face, he knew that his expression and actions were giving him away.

“But you know you should,” you continued as you tried to reach for him again, this time more slowly. “Let me be there for you, Buck.” The second part of your statement came out at nearly a whisper, but it had been loud enough he had heard you and he started shaking his head.

“You shouldn’t have to. I’m- I’m fine. I just need to go-“ Now, he had started moving towards the hotel door, and you felt your heart start to race in your chest. He was trying to leave.

“Wait, no, don’t go!” You cried, as you rushed to stop him, and Bucky’s hand hesitated over the doorknob. “Please. Stay. Talk to me.” You hated how broken your words sounded, but after everything that had taken place over the last few months, you couldn’t bear the thought of him walking out of that door and leaving you alone. Hesitantly, Bucky looked back over his shoulder at you, and you could see that same, decades-old pain swimming in his light blue irises.

“You’d be better off if I did. I’m doing nothing for you here.” Earlier, when you thought the comment about Steve was the most painful thing you had heard him say, this was a close second. You shook your head firmly as you took another step closer to him, and instead of reaching for the door knob fully, Bucky allowed his hand to fall back down to his side.

“No, Bucky, I wouldn’t be better off. I lived five years without you. Five years of never knowing if you were going to come back. I’ve known a life without you, and that is something I never want to have to experience again.”

Bucky’s shoulders deflated at your words, and you could see a flash of something in his expression that gave you a sliver of hope. You knew how he felt about you, and you knew that, deep down, he was well aware of how you felt about him. That was a secret you never tried to keep from him, and the one thing he never tried to hide from you either. 

After he didn’t move any closer to the door, and he didn’t respond to your words either, you slowly reached out for him once more, but this time, he didn’t pull away. You took ahold of his gloved hand and moved closer to him. The pain and conflict was still present in his expression, but as you lifted your other hand to cup his cheek, you hoped that maybe you would be able to find a way to bring him some comfort.

“Come sit back down with me, please,” you whispered, and for a moment, he didn’t move. You knew that if he really wanted to leave, you would have to let him, but your heart started to crack at the mere thought. Thankfully, after another heavy moment of silence, Bucky nodded and allowed you to lead him back to the end of the bed. You didn’t drop his hand, and when the two of you sat down next to one another, you sat close enough so that your leg was pressed up against his. 

“I know you said you don’t want to talk about it, but I heard what you said to Sam today. About Steve,” you murmured, your gaze falling to where your hands were entwined and resting on his thigh. “And Bucky, you know that isn’t true, right? Steve… he thought the world of you. He would have, and did, do anything for you. He knew you, Buck, just as I do, and he saw the heart that you have and knew that you were worth every bit of it.”

When you looked up, you could see the tears swimming in his eyes as he tried to hold them back. Steve had always been a sensitive subject, and you knew that, but you also knew that what you said was true. You had known Steve, and you had seen and heard the way he felt about his best friend. Before he was Captain America, Bucky had always been there for him, and after he was Captain America, he was there to return the favor without hesitation. He never held Bucky’s Hydra days against him because he knew, just as you did, that he had no control over that. He was a victim; a pawn in a much bigger game than he ever could have won on his own. He was still paying for it, even after all this time. You just hoped that someday he’d find a way to forgive himself.

“I just don’t know sometimes,” Bucky managed to choke out after another heavy silence. “I mean, I’m trying, but the nightmares and the constant reminders of what I did…” His voice trailed off as he fixed his eyes on the window across the room in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. You knew that he hated crying in front of anyone, despite you having told him numerous times that he didn’t have to hide that part of himself from you.

“That wasn’t you, at least, not really,” you replied. “You’re James Buchanan Barnes, White Wolf.” This time you nudged him in the shoulder with your own and he cracked half a smile as his eyes flickered back over to you. “The Winter Soldier was not you. And before you try to argue with me, I’ve seen him and I’ve seen you, and I can tell you that he is nowhere near the same guy as the one that’s sitting right here next to me.”

Bucky cringed at the reminder that you had been forced to bear witness to his time as The Winter Soldier when Zemo had activated him a few years before the blip. He had spent months apologizing, despite not having done anything to you, and you cursed yourself for bringing it up again. 

“I mean, the metal arm is the only thing you guys have in common, and on the Bucky I know… it’s actually kind of sexy.” You added the last part lightly, and when Bucky looked over at you again, you waggled your eyebrows playfully. He just shook his head as the corners of his lips turned up just a bit, before his gaze fell to his lap. The hand you were holding now was the metal one, and you followed his gaze as you released your hold on it before slowly slipping his glove off. He flexed the metal appendages as soon as the glove was gone, and you reached for it as your fingers traced over the cool metal.

“It’s a curse,” he mumbled, his eyes still locked on where it was resting in his lap. “I mean, Shuri was nice enough to make it better than the old one but…” 

You shook your head as you grabbed it before lifting it to your lips and pressing a small kiss to the back of it.

“It’s not a curse, it’s a part of you. And because of that, I love it. Just like I love you.”

Bucky inhaled sharply at those three little words, even though you had been saying them practically non-stop since he had returned. You had said it before he was gone too, but you knew, back then, that he didn’t believe it. 

“I do love you, Bucky. So please… don’t leave.” 

For a moment, you could tell that Bucky had almost completely forgotten about how he had been about to walk out. It was a gift that you possessed that he had never truly understood. Even though you were talking about his problems, it didn’t feel nearly as bad as it did when he talked about his problems with anyone else. Not that he opened up enough to anyone else to really do much good. 

“I couldn’t leave,” he murmured as your eyes lifted to meet his. “You’re the only one that makes me feel… well, anything.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest as that was practically him saying he loved you too, and you couldn’t help but smile. 

“And thank you,” he continued. “For what you said.” You nodded in response as you leaned against his shoulder, his metal hand falling to your thigh as you wrapped your arms around his waist. 

“I’m always here for you to talk to, you know that? Though, you do need to talk to Sam too. He’s going through a hard time just like you are, and he needs his friends to be there with him too.” 

Slowly, Bucky nodded, but before either of you could continue, there was a knock on the hotel room door, and you were reminded of the take-out order that you had placed earlier.

“You hungry?” You asked with another smile as you stood up from the end of the bed and moved towards the door.

“I could eat,” you heard him respond, and you chuckled as you pulled open the door to grab your food. 

Things were far from perfect, but every day the two of you took baby steps towards healing together. And really, you couldn’t ask for much more than that. 

[runtedfiction]

nicer

day 1: facade @zelinkweek2021

ao3

* * *

Years later, when Link faces the castle’s crumbling walls, he thinks about the Princess.

* * *

The day King Rhoam announces this year’s Harvest Festival is also the day his subjects know they're doomed. Officially, it’s supposed to be a normal holiday. Unofficially, the language in the announcement—“the last celebration before the fight against Calamity Ganon”, “the last time the palace will be open to Castletown until the fight is over”—convinces everyone that they’re partying in the face of the apocalypse.

“They have no faith in me,” Zelda says, putting down her pen. “Ganon is brewing deep beneath the castle. Everyone knows it. Everyone knows I can’t stop it. This is their last chance to let loose before all hell breaks loose.”

Impa frowns and hands her the final page of raw Guardian data to clean. “You're too hard on yourself. You still have time.”

“I just have Mount Lanayru next week.” She focuses on the Silent Princess above her desk. It's wilting. “Do you think I’ll be wise enough? Maybe Hylia will smite me right then and there for being an idiot.”

“Princess!”

“I know, I know.”

* * *

They wrap up that afternoon’s study, an incredibly useful session in quantifying the powers of the Guardians, to get ready for the ball.

Zelda’s dress is her signature blue, but a bit more fluid and feminine than the one she normally wears. Made for dancing and a summer night.

“Collarbones,” Impa notes, and Zelda laughs. “A little off the shoulder as well! And the subtle constellation pattern in the tulle--how stunning!”

“Don’t act as if you didn’t design it.”

“Guilty.”

Impa’s dress, an even deeper blue, is similarly gorgeous. It’s long sleeved, form fitting, and silky.

“Impa, I just want to say—” Zelda pauses, looking at their reflections in the mirror. When will they ever look this nice again? “Thank you for being my friend.”

Impa' smiles. “Of course. And Princess—if I may.”

“Yes?”

“With all your talk of the world ending, of doom coming.” Her voice gets small. “Do you think it would be worth telling him?”

Zelda stiffens. She thinks of him somewhere in the castle, dressed in his best uniform, walking to find her.

She lies. “No.”

Three quiet, efficient raps sound against her door. Zelda’s heart lurches.

* * *

In the hot, overcrowded ballroom, she can’t stop wondering if he thinks she looks pretty.

There are important people here she needs to talk to: researchers from the Royal Ancient Tech Lab, religious leaders, captains of industry, and so on. She finds her father and tries to reach some common ground on the one night they aren’t preparing for Evil Incarnate. (She fails.) She should find the court poet and give him the dance he’s been writing about for the past month.

But all she wants is for Link to look at her.

He’s indeed in his best uniform. His gloves and boots are blindingly white; his collar sits high and stiff against his neck. He’s uncommonly handsome, and the uniform emphasizes it. When someone pulls him in to dance (technically he should be keeping watch, but that someone really insists), she hates the jealousy that blooms in her chest and takes the hand of the poet. When she twirls, when she makes conversation, when she curtsies--she tries to see it all from Link’s perspective, if he can even find her in the crowd.

“Princess, are you feeling alright?”

“Oh.”

The poet looks at her in the way that a puppy looks at its master. The neediness satisfies and repulses her.

“Yes,” she says, smiling quickly. “Thank you for asking. How are you?”

“Wonderful. I was sitting in the courtyard the other day and...”

It’s easy to tune him out and appear to be interested with the right amount of “mhmm” and “oh?” and eye contact. But every time he twirls her around, she tries to spot the top of a Royal Guard cap in the crowd.

She knows she’s being stupid. Even in the incredibly unlikely scenario where Link’s interested, what could they do? Given that her powers aren’t working, there’s only a sixty percent chance they’ll get through the Calamity. She thinks back to what Impa said earlier. Something about letting him know in the face of impending doom.

(Maybe it doesn’t make sense to do something that would possibly be useless, a tiny voice in the back of her head says. But on the flip side, it’s also possible that nothing will matter soon, so why not tell him?)

She scowls and lets the poet dip her far too low for common courtesy.

* * *

Link is definitely lost in the crowd now. The next song requires that they rotate between multiple partners, and she can’t spot him anywhere. There’s no way that he’d be looking at her anyway, because why would he? He’s the chosen one, kind and strong and handsome and blessed. She’s the failed reincarnation, mean and headstrong and cursed.

If (when) the world ends, it’ll be on her.

Zelda admits to herself, swaying in the arms of someone else who doesn’t matter, that because the world has an uncomfortably high probability of ending, it follows that maybe, possibly, probably it makes sense for her to say something.

A sense of urgency unfurls in the pit of her stomach. Where is he?

* * *

She tries to find him. She doesn’t know what she’d do--ask for a dance? Strike up a conversation? Maybe it's the heat getting to her, but it worries her that she's lost him. She walks the length of the ballroom and comes up with nothing.

There’s no way she could summon him, but…

She grabs a glass of water and walks out the ballroom to the nearest balcony.

Except in this very specific circumstance, it’s infuriating how easy it is for him to find her. Even when she doesn't want to be found, even when she’s actively running away (and nearly dying in the process), there he is. The knowledge that he’s almost always aware of her presence burns.

“Hello,” she says after a respectable amount of time.

He steps out behind her. Unfortunately, the moonlight’s softness makes him look angelic. “Hi.”

Zelda very rarely has no plan. She’s the one always bossing him around, deciding where they’ll go next and how they’ll get there and what they’ll do. She’s at a loss for words right now.

“Ah--hm.” A cooling night breeze passes by. “Are you--are you enjoying the festival?”

“Yes?” He looks confused. And hot, her unhelpful brain adds. Very hot. “Are you?”

“Yes. It’s quite warm inside, but I enjoy the music and the dancing.”

“The band is nice.”

She agrees and scrambles to find another conversation topic. Damn it. Still no plan. Think, think.

“Uh--” he starts the same time she asks, “Are you ready for Mount Lanayru next week?”

He nods, and she hates how she made the conversation about work. But he looks more confident now--talking about work is easier than trying to have whatever kind of conversation she had in mind. “Yeah. I read about the region and it seems relatively safe. We might see Naydra too.”

“That would be incredible,” she says. “I’d love to capture it on the Slate.”

He nods again. A silence passes (a horribly awkward one that eats at her) before she asks: “What were you going to say before I interrupted you?”

“Oh yes.” Link clears his throat, and the fact that he looks a bit nervous sends her heart pounding. Can he tell what her subconscious is trying to do? “I’ve been meaning to ask (oh God, oh God, what has he been meaning to ask)--are you avoiding me?”

She blinks. “What?”

He won’t make eye contact with her. Triforce of courage, my ass. “Are you avoiding me?”

“No?” She’s stunned. Avoiding? All she’s been doing for the past week is pining!

“But, I feel like.” He pauses to look at her briefly. Again, his nerves kick off her own. “Ever since we got back from the desert, you haven’t really talked to me.”

She needs to think. A week ago, what happened?

They were at the Kara Kara Bazaar, and she nearly died because she intentionally (stupidly) lost him. She relives the feeling of it now--the panic that came with facing certain death when she realized it wasn’t Link following her, but the Yiga, then the shock when he appeared out of thin air wielding the sword. His back, so strong and sure. His concern as he helped her get up afterwards.

How once she could process what happened, something kicked in her chest, and everything was so obvious so suddenly.

Then getting back from the desert, what did she do? She wrote a diary entry, spent a sleepless night deciding she had feelings for him that she didn’t want to name, and tried as hard as possible to conceal them. The pining was unbearable, and--oh. Looking at him made her face burn, so she turned away. She never knew what to say around him, so she chose to say nothing at all.

Perhaps she approached her yearning by offsetting it with its opposite.

They really haven’t spoken. Zelda shakes her head, and mentally kicks herself. How can someone like you back if you don’t even talk to them? “I promise, I’m not trying to avoid you.”

He furrows his brow a little. Cute. Unfair. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Ok. If you do--if you ever need more space, let me know.” He smiles a little. “I do have to follow you, but I can do it farther away or something.”

She smiles back. Please always follow me. “Thanks. No need.”

“Alright,” he says. He glances at her arms.“Do you want to go back inside? It’s a bit cold. You’re getting goosebumps.”

She didn’t even notice. An idea is forming in her mind, bright and hot and something that needs to rush out right now or she’s going to overthink it to death.

“Going back inside sounds good. When we do, would you--would you like to dance with me?”

The question leaves so quickly that she’s not too sure if he understood it. She holds her breath; she might throw up.

“Sure,” he says, and the disappointment that she expected to punch her gut doesn’t come; a flood of something wonderful washes over her instead. Sure is yes, her mind sings. “How about I find you before the last song? I’ve been doing a bad job of keeping watch.”

“Sure,” she echoes. Hopefully her excitement isn’t too obvious when she turns back and nearly runs into the ballroom.

* * *

When the band announces the last song of the night, Zelda lets go of the poet and steps back immediately.

“My Princess,” he says, and the normal repulsion she would feel turns into joy when she spots a navy blue cap making its way through the crowd. “I would be honored to have your final dance, if you would have me.”

“Another time,” she says, already turning to pick up her skirt and mosey her way through the last group of people separating her from a flash of sandy blonde hair. “Thank you though!”

She doesn’t wait for the poet’s response because the crowd is gone and Link is right in front of her, handsome and smiling slightly. Her heart is at a million miles a minute when she drops her skirt and steps forward to place her hand in his.

This isn’t like her. He must think she’s acting so strange. Either that, or it’s obvious just from looking at her what she’s thinking. It’s a frenzied array of thoughts, ranging from the obvious (handsome, handsome, smells so good?, handsome, kind eyes) and the embarrassing (The smallest, least repressed part of me has dreamed about this all week.)

The music starts and swells and she’s still dreaming. His hand on her back is firm. Thanks to the design of the dress, she can feel his glove pressing into her. She wonders if he can feel the heat of her skin.

“How are you doing?” he asks when they fall into a rhythm, and she smiles too fast, idiot, calm down.

“Great, how are you?”

“Good,” he says, and they spin. He smiles back. “Good to know you’re not avoiding me.”

“Of course not.” Stupid, you avoided him!

He dips her a perfectly appropriate amount.

She feels brave. It’s the adrenaline getting to her, because the rational part of her can’t stop (giddily) telling her that she’s dumb when she asks, “Why would you think that I'd avoid you?”

“Hm.” He looks away to consider the question. The tips of his eyelashes catch the chandelier light. “I thought that maybe last week was a bit too much.”

She thinks about how warm his hand was when he helped her get up after saving her life. “It wasn’t.”

“It’s ok if it was.”

“No, no, you’re too kind.”

Link clears his throat. “So you’re not avoiding me because I kept trying to follow you through the bazaar when you clearly didn’t want me to?”

She laughs. “No, it’s also incredibly stupid that I tried to lose you. Besides, what would’ve happened if you hadn’t?”

Link clears his throat.

She chooses to change the subject by asking an easy “What did you make for dinner tonight?” in an attempt to soak up the final minutes she has in his arms. He starts talking about mushroom risotto, and she can’t stop smiling.

* * *

At the end of the night, when he escorts her to her room, it’s late enough that silence is acceptable.

She’s decided that she needs to do something, but she doesn’t know what. A hug would be different, but too strange. I like you is simple, but too plain. Thinking about you makes my heart soft is embarrassing. I know I’ve been an incorrigible bitch but now my walls are down and I like you is too honest.

She turns around when they reach her doors.

“Tonight was fun,” she says.

He smiles. Zelda knows romance books don’t lie when her heart jumps at the sight of it. “It was.”

This is the moment. She takes a deep breath as quietly as she can. She has that nauseous feeling again. If nothing matters, tell him. Everyone knows the apocalypse is coming.

“Hey, listen,” he says right when she opens her mouth. He pauses to look at her. If she thought he looked nervous earlier when he asked her if she was avoiding him, it’s nothing compared to now. He does a visible gulp, and—

“I think I have feelings for you.”

She blinks. What?

“And I understand if you don’t feel the same way,” he continues, tense and fast, looking right at her, “especially in light of everything going on right now. But I just had to put that out there.”

What?!

She closes her eyes--what is happening right now--and when she opens them he’s still there. This isn’t a dream.

Holy fuck. “Really?”

He nods. “Really.”

“Huh,” she says. He beat her to it. “Huh.”

“Huh?”

She laughs. He beat her to it, and now all she has to do is the easiest thing in the world.

“I think I have feelings for you too,” she says. It’s so dark now she can’t see the blue of his eyes, but she can imagine it easily.

He’s surprised. “Really?”

“Really. In fact, I was meaning to tell you just now.”

“Really?”

She laughs. “Really.”

She smiles and takes his hand. He stiffens at first, then relaxes as she threads her fingers through his.

“Oh, actually, here, let me—” He lets go. Disappointment hits her briefly before she sees that he’s taking off his glove. Some of his scars are alabaster in the moonlight. He has so many.

(She wants to kiss all of them.)

His hand is warm and rough and lovely when he slips it back into hers.

“This feels nicer,” he says, and his voice is almost shy.

There are a million things she wants to say--what are we going to do if I end the world, what are we going to do if you save the world, how long have you known for, Hylia is going to smite both of us for being fools--but she settles on squeezing his hand instead. He squeezes back.

“Yes,” she agrees. Very gently, she cups his cheek with her other hand and leans in. He’s closed his eyes already. “Much nicer.”

[hookingminor]

three lessons (2) - mat barzal

a/n: kinda blacked out and just wrote all of this I have no idea if its even good also thank you for all the love on part 1, I love receiving feedback, I always read the tags y’all add thank you so much

word count: 4.2k

warnings (18+): loss of virginity, smut

*italics are flashbacks

PART ONE HERE / PART THREE

-

“So what made you come up with this idea?” Mat asked when you cuddled back up to finish the movie. After you’d hugged him to death in a thank you, he gave you his shirt to slip on before asking if you wanted to finish the movie. You felt a little awkward just using him to make you cum and then leaving, so you agreed.

He’d been wondering for the past week why you were doing this. When you came to him that first day, he was too in shock to process. You were so confident in your answers, he didn’t question your intentions. Right now, he was hoping they weren’t misguided and that he didn’t just give you your first orgasm because you’d given into peer pressure.

“You’re going to think it’s stupid,” you said, running your fingers lightly over the arm wrapped around your waist.

“Try me,” he persisted.

“Well, my friends are always talking about their sex lives, and I kind of felt left out, you know? It’s not like I was saving myself or felt pressured to do it, I just wanted to get it over with. I know that sounds bad, but I wanted to start moving on with my life, I guess,” you explained, “And it’s not like the opportunity was going to arise for me naturally any time soon.”

“That doesn’t sound stupid, if that’s what you want to do. I know a lot of girls take this seriously, so I just wanted to know,” he said.

“That’s never really been me,” you replied, “I just never got far enough into a relationship with someone to actually do it. I’ve only ever gone on a couple dates,” you added the last part sheepishly.

“Soon enough you’ll be taking on the whole town, though. You’ve got that to look forward to,” Mat said with a laugh, easing the tension in the room. The last thing he wanted to do was make you feel embarrassed or insecure.

You chuckled at his joke, feeling yourself relax, “If they’re all half as good as you, I’ll be having the time of my life.”

“Might be a little hard…” Mat contemplated, “I have been told I’m a very gracious lover…”

“I’d chirp you if I could but I don’t really have any experience to go off of so I’ll let you have this one,” you teased back.

“Give it a few months. I’ll be waiting for your final answer,” he said, nipping playfully at your earlobe.

“I’ll be sure to give you my full reports,” you threw back with an eye roll, sarcasm lacing your voice.

-

When you left Mat’s apartment, he promised he’d text you later to tell you his availability in the upcoming weeks.

His availability happened to be very limited over the next week and a half considering he had two home games before he had to leave for a short roadie. Obviously, neither of you could do anything about that, but as the days passed, you felt your insides grow in anticipation. You’d only had one little taste, and you were already about to beg him for more. Maybe it was a good thing you hadn’t had sex until now, you had a feeling you were going to be an insatiable lover. You’d nearly gotten yourself off daily just replaying the memories of Mat’s tongue on you.

It was almost two weeks from your first lesson when you finally talked about your next one.

Mat: You busy this weekend?

Your heart sped up quickly as you typed your response.

You: I’m free every evening after 5

Mat: Want to come over Friday night around 8? Plan to stay the night

You: Oh? What’s the plan this time?

Mat: Come over and you’ll find out

You: … I guess I can fit you into my schedule

Mat: See you then, baby

-

Friday came quickly, much more quickly than you thought it would. All the mental preparation in the world couldn’t help the nerves that wracked your body that day. The classes you had passed in a blur, you weren’t even sure if you even paid attention to any of your professors. You had a study group session planned after your last class, but you decided to skip since you figured your brain wouldn’t be able to focus for another hour.

Then 5pm rolled around, and you were beginning to get restless. You tried making yourself dinner beforehand, but the thought of eating anything made you want to throw up. It’s not like you were nervous, per se, but more anxious as you thought about what Mat had in mind for the night. You hoped it was sex.

God, you really hoped it was sex. Two weeks had you wound tight like an old clock, and you hadn’t even touched his dick yet.

And now you were thinking about his dick, which didn’t help your focus at all.

You spent the next couple hours getting ready. Forty-five minutes were spent in the shower, shaving just about everything you could. You didn’t know Mat’s preference, but it was better to be safe than sorry your first time around, right? The next half hour was spent blow-drying your hair and doing your makeup. And the last hour was spent deciding what to wear. It shouldn’t have taken you that long, but you couldn’t choose which one was better. Not to say that you bought a couple options of lingerie, but a girl only lost her virginity once; you were going to make this count.

Eventually, you settled on a black set, spending extra time to hype yourself up in the mirror before covering up with a skirt and loose sweater.

Before you knew it, you were standing outside his door, waiting for Mat to let you in.

He greeted you with a warm smile, dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a white shirt.

“Hey, come on in. You look great,” he said, opening the door wider.

“What’s that smell? Are you cooking something?” You asked, smelling an aroma coming from the kitchen.

“Yeah, well, trying to cook. The only thing I can handle is pasta, so I hope you like alfredo,” Mat chuckled, “I figured I should at least try to make tonight somewhat memorable.”

“You’re going to be the first man I sleep with, I think that already makes you pretty memorable,” you joked, running your hands along the kitchen countertop.

“Uh, dinner should be ready in, like, two minutes, so go ahead and take a seat,” Mat said, rushing back over to turn off the stove.

“Is it going to be edible?” You asked, pulling out a chair at the table.

“We’re about to find out. If you get food poisoning, I’m not liable,” he said, setting a plate in front of you.

“Is that how you win over women? Poisoning them on the first date?” You asked.

“Technically, this is the second date,” he pointed out, “And I usually don’t cook, so don’t get used to it.”

You picked up a forkful of pasta and brought it to your mouth.

“Well, as far as pasta goes, this isn’t the worst I’ve ever had,” you complimented after swallowing your first bite.

“Oh thank god,” he said in relief, “I’ll take that.”

You continued to eat in silence for a couple minutes, glad to finally get something in your stomach. You asked Mat about his latest road trip and the games, and he asked you about school and work. The conversation flowed so well between you two, there weren't any awkward pauses or topics you both didn’t have an opinion on. You found yourself laughing at his stories, like, head thrown back laughing and eyes crinkling laughter. You’d never felt more at ease than you did right now.

Mat’s eyes were bright, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun with someone. He felt his heart sink a little at that thought: he was thoroughly enjoying his time with you, and he wasn’t even trying to woo you. You looked so beautiful in front of him, eating his subpar pasta but acting like it was the best, and smiling so hard he could see the small tears beginning to form in the corners of your eyes. He probably looked just as ridiculous to you, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

Mat began wondering why he’d never talked to you earlier. Sure, you’d seen him at casual hangouts when Anders brought you around, but he’d never really given you the time of day. And for the life of him, he couldn’t recall why he hadn’t.

He didn’t notice you then, but he was noticing you now. And that spelled trouble for Mat in big, bolded capital letters.

You’d stayed at the table a whole thirty minutes after you’d finished dinner, going through another two glasses of wine before the conversation began to settle.

“Here, let me get that for you,” Mat said, quickly getting up to take your plate when you began to pile your silverware up.

“No, I got it. You can’t cook and clean, Mat,” you argued, shifting the plate out of his reach.

In his brief moment of confusion, you snatched the plate from his hand, shuffling over to the sink as quickly as possible.

“You’re not doing my dishes,” he chuckled, slapping your hands out of the way. Water splashed up everywhere, soapy bubbles coating the counter. Even a few flew up into your hair, and you flinched your eyes shut as the water hit your face.

“I’m sorry,” he said, fully laughing now, “Actually, I’m not sorry. I told you not to touch the dishes.”

“Sorry for trying to be a good guest,” you snorted, flicking your wet fingers at his face with a smirk.

Mat grasped the wrist in front of his face, tugging you closer. His other hand lifted to grip your waist and pressed your front to his body, and your laughter suddenly died down.

“How about we just leave them for now?” He asked.

“They’ll just be even harder to wash later then, idiot.”

“I’m sure I can persuade you.” You raised your brow at him.

Mat’s signature crooked smirk appeared on his face as he let the hand on your waist drift to squeeze your ass. You let out a squeak of surprise, not used to being with someone this forward. His eyes crinkled at your shocked expression, and he leaned down to press his lips to yours. Your arms slid up Mat’s toned arms, going to rest along his shoulders. Both of his hands were now placed on your ass, and you could feel him harden against your stomach.

You moaned into his mouth, and Mat slipped his tongue into your mouth. You weren’t sure if you would ever get tired of kissing him; he was a phenomenal kisser. You could see why they paid him the big bucks to play hockey if he was half as good at skating as he was kissing.

He broke the kiss shortly after you trailed one hand down the expanse of his chest.

“Wanna take this to the bedroom? I’ve been wanting to get you out of this skirt since you walked through the door,” Mat grunted against your lips, stopping your hand before it could reach his belt.

You nodded your head vigorously (and it probably looked a little psychotic), eyes wide with lust. He took your hand in his and led you down the hallway, the dirty dishes long forgotten. Mat closed his bedroom door behind you, pressing you against it and reconnecting your lips.

His hands came up to hold your waist under your sweater, pulling his face away to move down your neck. Your head fell back to knock against the door and your lips parted in a quiet moan as Mat sucked a mark on your throat.

You took the opportunity to take in his room, and your gaze fell to the candles that were lit on his dresser.

“Did you get candles for this?” You asked breathlessly, arching your body into his. Mat pulled away for a moment, following your gaze to the candle.

“Yeah…” he said sheepishly, “I didn’t really know what to get. I wanted it to be at least a little special.”

“That’s sweet,” you said, running your hands through his hair, “It’s a good thing I also got you something too, then.” You stepped away to give him, what you hoped was, a seductive look.

“I really hope this isn’t some kind of joke about your virginity because if it is, I won’t laugh,” Mat said.

“No, you ass,” you laughed, punching him lightly in the arm, “I was trying to insinuate I was wearing something underneath.”

“Oh? Does that mean I can take this off?” He asked, both brows raised in curiosity as he tugged at the hem of your sweater.

“If you don’t, I will,” you teased.

After your confirmation, Mat pulled your top off easily and casted it to the side as he took in your appearance. His hands came up to trace the lacy designs along the cup, gently squeezing your clothed breast.

“Holy shit,” he said in awe, “I don’t mean to sound like a perv, but your tits are amazing.”

“Thank you. I always thought they were my best quality,” you joked.

Mat could hear the playful lilt of your tone, but he was still disagreeing in his mind. Your tits were amazing, but they were not your best quality. Maybe second best, but the sound of your laugh erupted in his mind when he thought about what he liked most about you; first he thought about your laugh, then your eyes, and then his mind eventually snapped back to reality where your nearly perfect tits were in front of him.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to take off my skirt?” You asked him, pulling him from his trance. Mat nodded his head eagerly, like a dog being thrown a bone. He dropped his hands to your waist, wasting no time to rid you of the skirt and throwing it to join your top.

“Jesus,” he breathed out when he saw the strappy garters, “Get on the bed now.”

You threw him a saucy smirk, sauntering over to the bed before sitting on the edge.

“Do I get to touch you this time?” You asked when he came to stand in front of you.

Mat brought his hand up to grab your hair, pulling it slightly so your head was tilted up to look up at him. He gave you a searing look before saying “Go ahead.”

You used your hands to brush against his abdomen underneath his shirt, raising it as far as you could from your seated position. He took the hint, pulling back to shrug it off quickly. Your hands stayed on his chest, sliding down until you met the buckle of his belt. You quirked an eyebrow, “This too?”

Mat answered your question for you, using his own hands to move them aside while he unbuckled his pants and shimmied them off. Your eyes followed his hands, noticing the way his boxer briefs bulged. Widening your eyes, partly in shock and the other part in disbelief that you were in this situation, your mouth fell open slightly as you tried to think of something to say.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to say anything because Mat was already pulling your head back and leaning down to kiss you again. He pushed you back against the bed, his hands reaching down to grab your thighs. His knees hit the bed, and he lifted your body up slightly so he could shuffled you back further. Your hands went back tug at the hair on the back of his head, and Mat groaned loudly into your mouth. You jotted this note down mentally, planning to use this to your advantage in the future.

He slid his arm underneath your back and you arched up into him. You could feel the hard press of him against your thigh, and you lifted your leg to wrap around his waist. You tried your best to thrust your hips against him, searching for any kind of friction.

Mat’s hand quickly unclasped your bra, and you pulled your arms down so you could slip it off.

“Fuck, baby,” he cursed, glancing down to your exposed breasts.

His head ducked down to nip at your neck, lips sucking along your collarbone. Mat lifted his hand to squeeze your breast, using his fingers to twist your nipple. He moaned against your skin at the gasp that fell from your mouth. Lowering his head even further, he closed his lips over your other nipple, desperate to pull more sounds from you. He was rewarded when you let out a pitched whine as he lightly bit at your breast.

Feeling yourself grow wetter at his ministrations, you pulled him back up to your lips by his hair, already missing the way he kissed you. You snaked one hand between your bodies, palming him over his boxers. Mat let out a distressed groan, thrusting his hips into your hand. You squeeze his length over the fabric which caused Mat to pull back swiftly.

“I know I said you could touch,” he panted, “but I genuinely think I’ll explode if you do.”

You chuckled at his breathless state but removed your hand from him anyway. He shimmied further down your body instead, taking a moment to unsnap the garters from your tights. Sliding off your panties, he took the tights off with them before resuming his spot between your legs.

“Don’t tease, Mat,” you said with a gasp. As much as you wanted his tongue on you, you were nearing the verge already.

“Fine, but I’m going down on you later tonight then,” he said, looking at your pussy with a longing look. He brought his fingers to run between your folds, gathering at the wetness building up. You could feel how soaked you were, but the obscene sounds you heard as he slipped a finger inside of you only confirmed that. Entering a second one, he slowly thrust his fingers in and out, curling to hit your g-spot.

“I said no teasing,” you whined loudly, tugging harshly at his hair. Mat chuckled darkly, removing his fingers from you despite your protest. He leaned back, stepping off the bed quickly to take off his boxers.

Now, you hadn’t expected him to be small, but being faced with his dick in person, you began wondering if you should’ve started with someone more… average. Your jaw dropped slightly, and Mat laughed at your reaction. He was already climbing back over you, condom in hand, before you could say anything.

“You’re sure you still want this?” He double checked, ripping open the foil packet. You nodded to answer his question, mouth still agape as you watched him roll the condom onto his hard length.

“If you’re not in me within the next minute, I’m going to combust,” you said.

“You flatter me, Y/N,” he replied, hooking a leg over his waist, “Stop me if anything hurts, okay?”

Mat waited for your nod, looking into your eyes for any sense of hesitation, but you couldn’t be more sure about wanting this.

He lined himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing inside of you. You felt yourself stretch open as he pressed into you, the feeling unfamiliar and awkward but not at all unpleasant.

Mat paused his movements when he heard a particular strangled noise leave your throat.

“Everything good?” He asked, checking in on you.

“Yeah, all good. Just give me a second,” you whispered, giving yourself a few moments to adjust to the new sensation. Mat stayed still as he waited for your indication to continue, bending his head to pull you back into a heated kiss.

Relaxing under his touch, you moaned into his mouth, mumbling a quiet “keep going” against his lips. Mat resumed his movements, pushing further into you at an agonizingly slow pace until you felt him bottom out.

“Holy fuck, you’re so ti— nope not going to think about how tight you are,” he said, grunting lowly into your neck. It was taking everything in him to not pull out and just thrust back into you, but he remained as still as he could until you gave him permission.

“Please move, Mat,” you groaned out, finally feeling yourself stretch to accommodate him with more ease.

He pulled out almost all the way before thrusting back in at a gentle maneuver, your head falling back in pleasure. Mat took your resounding moans as signs of encouragement, and he crashed his lips against yours in another kiss. He rocked in and out of you, slowly increasing his speed the louder your moans got.

You tangled a hand in his hair, needing something to grip to relieve the tension you felt building inside of you.

It didn’t take long for the discomfort to turn into backbending pleasure. Soon you were arching yourself as much as you could into him, trying to gather as much friction as possible. Your breasts rubbed against his chest, and he was clutching at your back to keep you close.

“I’m close,” you said into his ear, one arm extending over his shoulder to dig your fingernails into his back.

Mat’s hand slipped between you, reaching to press his thumb against your clit. He drew out tight circles against it, and you felt yourself teeter on the edge of orgasm.

“Come on, baby,” he said into your neck, and you squeezed around him in response. He pressed harder into your clit, biting at the skin of your neck before soothing it over with a kiss.

You clenched around him even tighter, and let your eyes flutter close as you came.

Mat’s hand gripped hard on your thigh, and you were sure you were going to feel the outlines of his fingertips pressed into your skin for weeks to come. His rhythm grew more erratic as his breathing stuttered, and soon you felt him still altogether as he released inside of you.

Your breathing slowed down a few seconds after Mat finished, his breaths quickly calming until they were in sync with yours. You whined slightly when he pulled out of you before flopping onto his back. You slowly came back to earth, the pulse between your legs diminishing with each passing minute. Mat leaned over the side to dispose of the condom and then turned onto his side to gaze at you.

You glanced over to see his cocky smile and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

“Women don’t usually laugh after having sex with me,” he said in mock offense, but the smile remained on his face.

“I’m laughing because I’m happy. I finally did it. I’m no longer a virgin,” you said happily, flipping over to rest your head on your hand, matching his pose.

“We better alert the media,” he joked.

“‘Breaking News: This just in, local college student finally pops her cherry,’” you exclaimed in your best reporter voice, and he laughed heartily.

He had such a contagious laugh. It was the most absurd, yet fun, laugh you’d ever heard. It was impossible to not laugh when he did, which is why you were both laughing hysterically now.

“But really, Mat, thank you,” you said seriously once the laughter began to die down. He nodded his head in agreement, his smile falling until you could only see the playfulness within his eyes.

“Round two in the shower?” You asked hopefully after a couple seconds.

“Already? We just finished,” he teased, bringing a hand to brush your hair behind your ear.

“Are you saying you’re tired already? What about that professional athlete stamina?” you wondered with a raised brow.

“You joke about it now, but you’ll be regretting that soon,” he said, lightly flicking your nose, “Get in the shower, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

You got up eagerly, scampering off to the bathroom in excitement for going another round. Mat glanced over his shoulder, watching you disappear into the bathroom.

It was when he heard the water turn on and the shower door close that he let his face fall completely.

Your second date was over.

Second lesson, he corrected himself. He was nothing but a fluffer for you, and that hurt him more than he cared to admit right now.

His chest tightened at the thought of your time together slowly coming to an end. He wanted to keep seeing you. You were lively, smart, funny, and hot. He had yet to meet a box you didn’t tick for him, and that scared him a lot.

Mat wasn’t the type to catch feelings this quickly, especially for someone he knew he couldn’t have; it’s not like you being his captain’s sister was completely lost on him. God knew he'd been on the receiving end of caught feelings plenty times, and he hated being the bad guy in those situations.

But despite that, he found himself enjoying your time together more than he probably should’ve.

Also, there was the fact that you were probably one of the sexiest women he’d ever slept with and looked like a goddess when you came.

Really, when it came down to it, Mat was left with no other option.

He had to stall your next “lesson” for as long as possible. As long as he needed to convince you he wanted more than just sex.

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 25: Silver Lining

Just another day, like any other. Esredes was on his walk to work, and in a particular mood. His mind was wandering once more as he passed the Vault, to fantasies that faded far beyond reality. Imagine if the Warrior hadn't interfered until Nidhogg reared his ugly head. Imagine if Ysayle had killed the Archbishop, before he could take on his own transformation, and the two of them had dealt with Nidhogg. Esredes hadn't trusted Ishgard's people enough, perhaps even less than Ysayle herself. He was fully mentally prepared for having to subjugate Ishgard to get it to listen to them. But perhaps, as things had turned out, not nearly as many would have needed subjugation. Perhaps he wouldn't need to help manage a fragile, in chaos city-state that had been taken over, especially when so many of his own had nothing even close to management skills, perhaps a proper parley would've been possible. And yet, Esredes pulled himself back to reality and reminded himself, that was never quite the case. Peace had been agreed to, and that was it. Himself and all of his were only here on Ishgard's terms or else, and the rest simply had to be dealt with. Still he went through his days in anticipation of being fired for shining progressives who repeated his ideologies on Ishgard's side, or of his house burning down when he got home. Ah, what would life have been like if he wasn't a failure who couldn't match up to idiotic children with goddess powers? It was a question he asked himself here and there, swirling around with all the others, and in his head, timelines began to split off, mirrors into other worlds for him to glance into. In one, he saw himself back with his family in Thanalan. He lived under a new identity and kept quiet and to himself, always afraid of the Ishgardian government finding him out. He worked a simple job that had him feeling nothing, and though he hoped to earn his parents' forgiveness through it, things didn't really change. Esredes looked away from the mirror and towards the approaching door to his office, and opened it and went inside. He greeted the receptionist as always, then greeted Heilyn and Ferrant, quipped with Heilyn about the fact he would never brush his damn hair properly and it looked like ass or something stupid like that. Work went steady today- Esredes cozied himself up with a cup of white tea and busied himself writing some in depth notes on Dragon Blood observations to use as a reference. With how many people he had encountered here and there who would do any amount of dubious things to obtain such information, the casual scrawl on the paper gave no indication of awareness of this. Just another day, just another paper amongst many, cloaked in the tranquility of absurdity. Another mirror opened in Esredes' head as he worked. In this one, Esredes had gone through with one of his fleeting ideas and fled to the Far East when Ishgard rejoined the Alliance, and oh my, was he lost. Completely out of his depth, he had to fight off multiple people trying to mug him in Kugane until someone watched his latest skirmish and approached him. "You're good with a sword," the man said as Esredes shrunk back and kept his hand wrapped around its handle. "How would you like an opportunity to put it to the test?" And so Esredes watched himself hesitantly agree after sixty and a half questions to work for a Kugane lord as a bodyguard. It was a place to stay and decent pay, to stand around and observe everyone like a hawk. He got to know some people around the home and the streets of Kugane who looked upon him with respect, yet caught himself glancing over the sea even on a good day and remembering everything he left completely behind. Esredes got up to refill his tea, and the mirror closed. Soon after, Heilyn called him over to the office across the hall, and surprised him with a sweater- knit entirely by him in that periwinkle blue reminiscent of Shiva. So that he had more than one sweater, Heilyn said. Esredes smiled and thanked the man back, giving him a soft hug of gratitude. Ferrant was also his usual cheerful self today, asking after if Esredes was feeling all right and letting him know he appreciated him. All very routine, yet he never tired of it. At lunch hour, he had an appointment of the strangest sort, so he retrieved his coat and exited the building and made his way down to the Firmament. Esredes was in a little bit of hot water recently, having chased down a double agent to his people and getting in trouble after he was arrested for the act of vigilantism- as if that was the worst thing he had done while back in the city. And yet the head Inquisitor on the chase wrote to him and invited him out to lunch with his friend who also got involved with the chase. To know them both as a person, she claimed. He was completely lost as to the motivation, but Esredes could tell she was an Inquisitor who had an actual soul, a normal person's thought process. So he accepted and went on a picnic. She served arancini, an imitation recipe from the Far East. Elouan took most of the conversation as Esredes anticipated, and he didn't have to do much work as he listened to her and her bodyguard talk about how much they want to visit the Far East, and Elouan filled them in on his own travels. What a nice and unexpected little bubble in the veil of absurdity. Another mirror manifested during the picnic, and Esredes saw himself with his knees curled up, sitting on the ground in a pathetically tiny cell, and from the expression on his face alone, clearly having lost his mind. He flinched and ignored the mirror after his initial glance, focusing his attention on Elouan's babbling exclusively. When everything wrapped up and he returned for the second half of work, Esredes made a few discreet calls in his office to the network about arrangements for later. A little outing with an actually human Inquisitor was nice, but the man knew what he was, and there was always work to do. He took a break in the middle to move over to the Blue Room for an appointment. Clover's ward Teagan had begun seeing him in the past couple months, a woman rescued from life in a fighting ring in Ul'dah who was still perpetually trying to learn and adjust to life beyond. They always had good discussions, even after he put her to looking into the water. This time, to teach her about Ishgardian culture, he had ended up going into his own story up until everything fell. "How did you do it? Turn it around, I mean? It must have been hard, pulling yourself out of that... how did you manage?" She asked him after that. Esredes had to pause a moment to think about his answer. "I had to take it a day at a time. The other members of the camp were not unsupportive. They were concerned, they wish they knew what to say or do, but I was completely unreachable. So, for one thing, I'm someone who doesn't believe in meeting your death unless you have to. It's more productive to die so someone else lives than to simply off yourself. So every day, it was get from start to finish. There was a routine. Do your tasks, break for meals, read in your tent, avoid talking to anyone any longer than you had to. Keep doing this, and eventually you would either die, or something would happen that you were waiting for. Just, something to happen. It was all I really had besides keeping in mind my family- what if I missed something happening? Eventually, I realized these people were that, people. Who cared. Who did not want to kill me for being a knight as I thought. And I decided that, while I could've fled to Thanalan and tried to live as a normal person, I wanted to stay and make a difference, even a small one. Help people in my situation to be saved and survive, not perish to Ishgard, even if there was no chance of making a bigger difference by that point. And when Ysayle entered the picture, that changed everything, and the rest is history." "I think I can understand that... I, for one, am glad the sun continued to rise for you...that you were able to find reasons to keep going, ways to help people." She gave a small smile. "I bet you've made plenty of differences with all the folks you've helped along your journey. Cause it's not just the big ones that matter, yeah?""Well, had I not been concerned about the small child who was alone in the woods, we wouldn't be here, so yes. And that's what I enjoy about doing this on the side nowadays- the pleasure of seeing it affect individual people in real time. The way I ended up discussing it with another client, is you have to figure out the way to get out of the room. You're in a room, and you can get out and see what's beyond it, but you're just not ready to yet, you find yourself unable. Once you can manage to get out of the room and see what's beyond it, everything becomes a little easier." Teagan tilted her head at this. "A... room? So... you finding the drive to help others helped you open your 'room'?" "It helped me get out of it, yes. I realized I still had something to do and people cared. People really helped a lot, even though I was pushing them away. Just knowing they wanted me to feel better and believed in me as a person.... after everything else fell through, it was all I had." She nodded and smiled a little. "I'm glad you were able to find the door, and that you had people there to help you find the knob." She paused for a brief moment. "... Thank you for sharing your story with me, Esredes. It's been really eye-opening." And so the session concluded, and soon Esredes was back out into the world. First half of the day was over, and then it was time for the second. There was not a formal meeting happening with his people tonight, but instead a get together of sorts at Vette's more recently acquired mansion she had made into a space for all of them to convene safely. Esredes went to and from everybody, making sure everyone was doing well, holding conversations and watching everyone enjoy themselves with a faint smile on his face. He stepped into the bathroom at one point to do his business, and washed his hands after. He was confused why there was a second bathroom mirror for a moment until it began to show him another reality. Esredes stepped back from the sink and put a hand against the wall to his left, the other going over his heart. Reflected back at him in the mirror was a collection of all the people he knew and loved close together, with himself standing further away on the platform and forced to stare at them. A mass public execution. Esredes rushed out of the bathroom and slammed the door shut, pressing his entire body against the door and breathing in and out, in and out. It's not real. It's not real. "Esredes?" Came a gentle voice, as Vette approached the man. She had most definitely felt the spike in distress from the aetherial bond they shared. She asked about how he was doing and put a soft hand to his cheek. "I'm all right, really." Esredes said. "I just had... an unexpected wave of fear come over me." Vette was always in tune with how he felt. She helped him calm down the rest of the way, and then lead him back to the gathering. The anxiety soon faded, and replaced by it, a warm feeling heated the blood inside him. For the rest of the evening, Esredes continued to engage with his family, waves of laughter and elation surging and falling in with the tide. He only hoped that the droplets of gratitude leaking from his fingertips and voice washed over everyone attending like a cool rain on a summer's day, for as he closed his eyes and let each droplet of noise from their voices and words hit him, everything stood right into place where it belonged.

--- @thecalmnessandthestorms / @heartofthefury Heilyn, Ferrant, Sartorius (unnamed mention) @eternal-finis Lieuvanne (unnamed mention) @shieldbcund Elouan @punches-and-cream-puffs Teagan @syerraffxiv Vette

[withkun]

visage | j. jaehyun

genre: enemies to lovers... kinda? with some fluff and smut :) word count: 5.2k  pairing: reader x jaehyun warnings: graphic hetersexual sex (oral, penetration, etc), swearing, excessive world building summary: Your first day of work at your first real job began terribly. You hadn’t got enough sleep, you could barely eat your breakfast, and you managed to get lost on the way. Soon, you discover you’re working alongside serial charmer Jaehyun Jung and that he will stop at nothing to be the best. 

a/n: this is a mess im sorry lmao. i somehow managed to use jaehyun 86 times in here ... girl...

You felt completely, utterly, and hopelessly lost – all on the first day of your first real job. That morning, you awoke two hours earlier than you had to. If you had a choice, you would’ve face planted into your pillow and died right there. However, your anxiety decided against it. And with that extra time, you managed to pull off an extended morning routine. A warm, long shower. Ten-step skincare routine. Eggs, toast, and black tea. Despite your attempts to regain your confidence, all was lost as you circled the office building.

           The orientation guide you received hadn’t helped much. All you knew was that you should report to building B. Whichever building that may have been, you had no idea. Your feet grew weary and you cursed yourself for wearing heels. You rounded the corner of the office park for your fourth or fifth lap, only to be cut off by an overdressed jackass. Before you could sidestep him and continue your hopeless journey, the perpetrator turned to face you.

           “Oh, no. He’s hot,” you thought to yourself, praying your cheeks weren’t stained red. Despite wearing a well-tailored gray suit, you realized that he was likely your same age. He took in your slightly disheveled appearance, probably noting your ruffled hair and askew skirt.

           He tilted his head in the direction of the closest building. “Are you here for orientation, too?”

           Of course he had to be in your hiring class. Twenty-two and already looking like he owned the building. You nodded, then turned on your heel to rush inside. Trailing your steps, you heard him chuckle lowly.

           You finally joined the rest of the new hires in the security lobby, managing to fix your appearance before you reached the door. To your gratitude, they dressed similarly to you. Just plain business casual. The boy you met earlier definitely stood out, making the others wonder if they hadn’t dressed well enough.

           Within ten minutes, you all received security badges and shuffled into your orientation room. You preferred the back, whereas the business boy sat directly in the front. Rolling your eyes, you realized his game. You met plenty of people like him in college, ruthless climbers that destroyed everything in their paths. He knew he had to make more than an entrance, he had to make an impression.

           You grew to dislike him more and more as your training sessions progressed over the course of two weeks. An insufferable know it all, answering all the questions managers prompted. Volunteering for everything first, unafraid. You on the other hand, did not find his actions necessary. He left a glowing impression, yes, but you found it meaningless. Like hell the trainers cared about how well you completed your general training. Maybe he wanted everyone to relate this to his future performance, for you to watch out for his dominance. For you to fear him. Worst of all, he saw you struggle with the most simplistic task on your first day.

           He easily made friends within the group, as there were plenty others like him. All recent college graduates, fantastic resumes, and working for one of the best companies in the field. You, on the other hand, did not have such luck. Your social circle consisted of yourself and another quiet trainee, a quiet finance major named Doyoung. The two of you kept to yourselves and became the outliers of the group, so much to the extent that you sat alone for training sessions.

           Two weeks came and passed, and you finally received your team assignments. You found your name on the bulletin, right next to Jaehyun Jung’s. Of course. It had to be this way.

           Jaehyun approached the bulletin board aside you, and grinned as he found his name. “Looks like we’re working together,” he commented, still wearing the same expression. You realized why he appeared so happy. People like Jaehyun would not recognize someone like you as a threat. You barely appeared on his radar.

           You grit your teeth and forced a smile. “I look forward to it.”

           With your whorish luck, you found that your desks were right next to each other and you’d be essentially working back to back. You already hated being watched, and Jaehyun could easily look over his shoulder and see you struggling to keep up.

           Jaehyun settled into his seat with ease, already look at home in his new desk. You sat gingerly on your office chair, gathering your surroundings.

           Your desks sat right in the view of your department lead’s office, likely to Jaehyun’s excitement.

           Being on the same team, you and Jaehyun had the rest of your training sessions together.  Just you two and your manager. He always seemed to grasp the new concepts immediately while you merely pretended and made notes to ask Doyoung later.

           They assigned your first project sometime later, one that you and Jaehyun would have to complete jointly. You dreaded it, knowing he would try to take over the project.

           That first morning, Jaehyun was already at his desk. You glanced at your watch, nearly scoffing as you read off 6:59. Despite having the ability to make his own schedule, Jaehyun chose to arrive before seven. You collapsed into your desk chair, jealousy eyeing Jaehyun’s full coffee mug. He already had time to help himself to coffee. Typical.

           “Morning,” he greeted, fully awake and energized. “I set up a meeting for 8 today to start working on the project.”

           You powered on your desktop, mentally groaning at the hundreds of emails present in your mailbox. “That’s…fine,” you murmured, praying that you could address all your client emails in a measly hour without the aid of caffeine.

           He glanced behind him to see you hunched over and lifelessly typing. “I’ll make that 9.”

           And yet again, you were caught in a moment of weakness. Great. “Yeah, okay.”

           Those two hours passed slowly, but at least you managed to prepare a cup of tea. By 8:55, Jaehyun already settled into the conference room and wrote diagnostics on the whiteboard. All while you still went through your emails.

           You joined him, a fresh cup of tea in one hand and your laptop in another. “All right, I see that you’ve already set up the basics,” you said monotonously, nodding towards the whiteboard. “I conjured up some of my own ideas as well.” Without prompt, you rose and added a few bullet points under Jaehyun’s “approaches” section. You scanned his ideas, noting that they weren’t bad, but not what you had in mind.

           “I see,” Jaehyun commented, still standing. He put his hands on his hips, carefully mulling over the options. “They’re quite good.”

           You felt ashamed of your satisfaction for his response, but also surprise. He sounded genuine enough, but you knew that his type always had some angle to work. Prodding you board at your second option, you decided, “I think this is our best bet.”

           Jaehyun remained quiet for a moment, eyes flickering across the board. “What if we combined a couple?” he inquired. He pointed to your idea, then his. “It would streamline the process more holistically.”

           “Holistically??” you thought. You hadn’t heard that word since high school English class. It was so painfully pretentious to you.

           He went on to explain how it would work, but you were still caught up on the pure obnoxiousness of the word “holistically.”

           “Y/N,” Jaehyun tried. “Hello?”

           You blinked, finally hearing your name. “Sorry, I was thinking about how this will impact everything.” A lie, Jaehyun didn’t need to know how long you caught yourself on a single word.

           “So, what do you think?” Jaehyun leaned against the wall, eyes searching yours.

           Oh god, now you were thinking about his eyes. Pushing those thoughts aside, you answered, “So long as we put a heavy emphasis on my part, I think it’ll work.”

           He agreed and you went on, mostly working quietly. You avoided asking him questions, even when you became desperate. Jaehyun, meanwhile, tried to engage you in small talk.

           “Where did you go to college?” he asked, to which you gave him a one-word response.

           “Are you from here?”

           “Do you have a boyfriend?”

           “What was your major?”

           You barely answered, but he failed to get the point until he finally inquired to something relevant. “Did I do something that offended you?”

           You drew in a breath, fumbling for the right words. If you were honest with him, you wouldn’t have to put on a façade. If you lied, you wouldn’t get on his bad side. Even pretty boys like him could be ruthless if given the opportunity and reason. You saw it before, you knew you would see it all over again.

           “No,” you decided, pulling on a tight-lipped smile. “I just want to do really well on this.”

           That last part, at least, wasn’t a lie. You felt that you had to prove yourself, especially against the Jaehyuns of the world. If only briefly, you saw his relief. His face relaxed a little, and his shoulders lost some tension. “Me too,” he agreed.

           The following month went on similarly. You completed the project quietly, only interjecting to make corrections and provide your input. When you finally reached the day of your presentation, your nerves caught you once more. You woke up far too early and arrived at the office at the same time as Jaehyun. A new record.

           If he was on edge, you couldn’t tell. Outwardly, he appeared the same. Nothing could take away his quiet glow of confidence. Jaehyun worked, unbothered, sipping his coffee almost casually.

           “Are you ready?”

           Jaehyun turned to face you. “Never been readier.”

           You raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know if readier is a word.”

           With a shrug and smile, Jaehyun returned to his work again. Odd, considering he was always chatty.

           You attempted to mimic him, to work without doubts and review your notes. But your hands shook as you tried to type. You knew you couldn’t focus until you finished the presentation.

           Although you hadn’t noticed him leave, you saw him approach your desk. Jaehyun gingerly placed a styrofoam cup on your desk. Your eyes met his. “Jaehyun?”

           “Just some tea before the presentation,” he explained. “I noticed you like black tea with honey.”

           You brought the cup to your lips, delighted to find that it was the perfect temperature. For once, you didn’t care about his motive. “Thanks,” you said. And you meant it.

           He gave you wink. “We’ll be great today.”

           You hoped he was right.

           The presentation crept up on you suddenly, much faster than you had anticipated. Jaehyun found you outside the conference room, where you managers and team lead had already gathered, pacing and talking to yourself.

           “Are you okay?”

           He caught you again, there was no use in denying the truth. “Absolutely not.”

           Jaehyun laughed lowly and put a hand on your shoulder. A part of you wanted to shrug it off, but you felt a strange comfort. “I’m nervous, too.”

           You almost burst out laughing. Like hell he was nervous. But his concession, fake or real, made you feel some comfort.

           Having reeled yourself in, you entered the conference room together.

           And together, you made it through the presentation. You both had prepared excessively, ready to answer any question thoroughly. Management applauded your efforts, declaring that you had exceeded expectations. They rewarded you with a gift-card to a nearby steakhouse and urged you to celebrate together. Hastily, you attempted to invite the managers, only to be declined. They had work to complete in the office.

           Your cheeks lit up red with embarrassment, but you agreed to make reservations for that night.

           Jaehyun offered a ride over, to which you vehemently wanted to reject. Before the eyes of your manager, you took him up. You assured yourself that he was still the same person you knew. Nothing different. Nothing could’ve changed that. Seeing his car certainly helped. You never knew any recent college graduates that drove a Tesla, and yet…

           Once you arrived at the restaurant, you quickly ordered yourself a martini. You didn’t care which one, so long as it had plenty of alcohol. Jaehyun simply ordered a beer, quoting driver safety commercials. “Just this,” he promised you, then proposed a toast. “We pulled it off.”

           You drank your martini with gusto, and then prompted the waiter for another one. Jaehyun watched as you became drunk, consistently grinning as began to ramble. “You know I hate you, right?”

           Your question caught him off guard. “You hate me?”

           With a smile, you brought the martini glass to your lips. “You’re too perfect and try too hard.” His expression fell, but you forged on. For months, he made you feel inadequate and beyond anxious. You befuddled mind justified this bluntness. “Every day feels like a goddamn competition.”

           Jaehyun reached across the table, taking your hand. “I had no idea,” he admitted quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

           “It’s whatever. You’re no different from most in our hiring class.”

           With a sigh, Jaehyun took an elongated sip from his beer. “They’re not all bad.”

           Despite the alcohol coursing its way through your system, you realized that a few strands of hair fell out of place. He hunched over, brows furrowed, lost in thought. It wasn’t the first time you saw that either. Just out of your periphery vision, you saw him buried in work while you finished the project. 

           Jaehyun swept his hands through his hair. The way he bit his lip made you wonder if he was holding himself back. And the waiter arrived with your meals before you could muster a response.

           You sat in silence, Jaehyun haphazardly cutting his steak. He refused to look at you.

           As you absentmindedly twirled your pasta onto your fork, Jaehyun finally spoke up. “I’m not perfect, and you’re not easy to work with either.”

           “Excuse me?” You couldn’t conceal your anger at this sentiment.

           Jaehyun met your gaze, eyes determined. “You had to control every part of the project. Had everything your way.”

           That, you had heard before. And you absolutely hated it. “We did well on the project because of me,” you said defensively. “Lest you forget.”

           The two of you went on bickering like this, angrily finishing your meals and drinks. The waiter hesitantly approached your table, and you demanded the check. The sooner you could leave, the better.

           Once paid, you managed to not storm out of the restaurant. But you wore a disgruntled expression and balled your fists.

           You reached your work parking lot, and instantly ejected yourself from the Tesla. It wasn’t until you reached your car, however, that you realized that you didn’t have your keys. Probably left it in the passenger seat.

           Angrily, you stomped back to Jaehyun’s space where he twirled the keys around his index finger. “I’m not letting you drive. You drank too much.”

           You gritted your teeth. “I sobered up plenty.”

           Jaehyun approached you and held a square device in front of him.  “Well, then you can prove it.”

           You yanked the breathalyzer from him, not bothering to ask why he had it. Made sense for someone like him. With a groan, you realized he was right. 0.1.

           Not wanting to admit it, you continued your enraged march to the nearby retention pond where a lone bench sat in front of the water. You crossed your arms, and bitterly stared at the water from there.

           Jaehyun followed you, leaning onto the back of the bench. “I didn’t know this place existed.”

           You laughed bitterly. “It’s because you never leave your desk. You’re always working. Always networking. Always trying something.”

           To your surprise, Jaehyun appeared to calm down from earlier. He regained his flawless demeanor. “It takes me a lot longer to do things.”

           Well that, that took you off guard. “Doing extra work,” you said, making a weak attempt to correct him.

           “No.” After a long pause, he asked, “Do you really hate me?”

           His tone made you feel some guilt. “Don’t you hate me?” you shot back, remembering his comments at the restaurant.

           “I don’t,” he affirmed. “I never have.”

           You considered that. In your college career, you made plenty of enemies with the same behavior. Those times, you ensured yourself, were valid. Those classmates never completed their work and simply didn’t care about the performance. You had been left with ten-page papers to complete on your own. You turned poorly written trash into works professors recommended for publishing. But you knew Jaehyun wasn’t the same as them at least.

           Behind Jaehyun, the sun had just begun to set. The sky lit up with orange and pink hues. “I shouldn’t have taken over the project,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. A part of you hoped he wouldn’t hear.

           “Oh,” Jaehyun said softly.

           You gave him a warning expression. “Do not let that get to your head. You came into this job with an agenda.”

           “Jesus Christ, Y/N,” Jaehyun groaned. “Where the hell are you getting these ideas from?”

           You couldn’t bear to look at him, imagining the smug look on his face as he basically told you that you were crazy. “People like you are always ruthlessly ambitious.”

           “And what am I like, then?” Jaehyun mused.

           Without skipping a beat, you explained, “Attractive, charming, overcompensating.”

           You could feel his eyes boring into the back of your head, and just knew his smug smile made another appearance. He chuckled and said, “Sounds like you.”

           “Funny,” you mocked. “Last time I checked; I’m only overcompensating less outwardly.”

           He joined you and took a seat on the bench, stretching his arm over the top of the bench. Only inches away from being on your shoulders. Disgusting. “You’re wrong.”

           Without prompt, he suggested a game of twenty questions. Jaehyun clarified his intent, stating that perhaps you misunderstood each other. Sensing your doubt, he held his pinky finger out and searched your eyes. You hesitantly connected your pinkies and brought your thumb to your lips, both promising to be truthful.

           “Do you think I’m good at my job?” you inquired first, eyes cast out to the sparkling pond.

           Almost instantaneously, Jaehyun firmly answered, “Yes.” You concealed your satisfaction, biting your lip to prevent you to smile. “Do you think I’m good at my job?”

           You replied almost as quickly, “Of course I do.”

           The questions got progressively less serious, some among the likes of favorite movies and which books you were currently reading. Somehow, you felt relaxed. Jaehyun didn’t feel like competition, but rather just a normal stupid boy. He let you have another try at the breathalyzer, and you felt relief in the .05 reading before you. At the same time, you wanted to remain beside him.

           “I don’t think I hate you anymore,” you conceded, accepting your words as truth. “If you stop coming off as perfect all the time.

           He let out a laugh, a sweet sound of joy and relief. “Hey, you come off as perfect too. You were just quiet around me.” With a devilish grin, Jaehyun ventured, “Is it because you think I’m attractive?”

           You glared at him from the corner of your eye. “Are you trying so hard because you find me attractive?” you challenged him.

           Jaehyun turned his body to face you. “That depends on whether it’s working.”

           Now games like these you didn't mind as much. A harmless game of chicken, testing your limits. Work had its difficulties, but boys? Easy. You cupped his cheek, amazed at how soft his skin felt to the touch. Your eyes met, beckoning the other to try something. "So, this is why you asked me if I was dating anyone?" you dared. "Under the guise of getting to know me and making small talk. I thought someone as perfect as you would have more...subtlety." You let the last word slip out of your mouth slowly. Registering his surprise, you continued, “I don’t forget things easily, hence why I’ve been able to hate you so long.”

           Jaehyun grinned cockily, placing your hand on his chest. You felt defined muscles straining against his button-down. Already, you figured his body would match the rest of his veneer. “You really have nerve being out here like this,” Jaehyun overserved, gesturing the office park a short walk away.

           “Oh, uncomfortable here?” you drawled playfully, then took his hand. “I know somewhere you may like.”

           You felt a wave of confidence wash over you, and you realized this what you assumed Jaehyun had always felt. Then you decided that you’d make it up to him one way or another. He followed you, only letting your hands detach as you got closer to the infamous “B” building you worked in. You noted his nervousness and gave him a reassuring smile. “Trust me,” you urged.

           Entering through the side door, you managed to avoid security. Your entry would appear on a log, but you could easily bristle over it and say that you forgot your laptop at your desk. Most of your coworkers avoided the stairs, so you led Jaehyun away from the elevator. Though, you had forgotten that you were wearing heels. You struggled up the steps by the second flight, clinging onto the railing for dear life. Jaehyun noted this, but said nothing as he swept you into his arms.

           “I wish you did on the first floor,” you joked. “Or maybe I could’ve just taken them off.”

           Jaehyun refused to let you down until you reached the fourth floor. Whenever you found yourself in a vulnerable state, you hid out beside the decommissioned wing. The unused nursing room featured its own bathroom and a small futon. Having visited the location so often, you knew that the cleaning staff rarely came by. You asked once and discovered that they only visit at the beginning of the month. No one else ever came by in your experience. It appeared that only you knew about this place, and now Jaehyun. “This is where you run away to,” he deciphered. “I always thought it was the café.”

           “I prefer privacy.” You leaned against the door as Jaehyun took in his surroundings. “And I wanted to go somewhere you couldn’t find me.”  

           He fell back onto the futon, looking at you in awe. “Just when I think I know you.”

           You fumbled for the lock behind you until you heard a distinct click. “Do you remember when you first met me? When I was so stupid and got lost?”

           Jaehyun rose, appearing concerned. “I didn’t know. I just thought you were cute.”

           He cornered you against the door, body close enough to feel your shaky breath. All that time just hating him when you could’ve been seducing him for the purpose of hindering his goals and ultimately find the truth much sooner. You wasted so much time, held so much resentment. In front of you, you saw a seemingly perfect boy study your movements, waiting. A position you would have never imagined yourself mere hours before. Yet, you saw it all in hindsight and perhaps always knew the truth. It was then that you decided that you didn’t want to play games anymore or mull over an agenda.

           Jaehyun angled his chin downwards, gazing into your eyes with a mix of emotions. Excitement, fear, desire. You kissed him, gently and slowly. More carefully, you wanted to know him in this way. Feel the way his lips moved against yours, his increasing heart rate. He rested his hands on your hips, gripping them as if he couldn’t support himself without them. Soon after, you wrapped your arms around his neck and gradually deepened the kiss. These moments you shared felt like high school, so unassuming and simple.

           You pulled away, resting your forehead on his. You caught your breath and entangled your fingers with his. “I’m sorry,” you murmured.

           He idled, drawing kisses down your cheek and neck. “For what?” Jaehyun ventured.

           “For not knowing you until now, and maybe still not knowing you.”

           With his thumb, he drew circles on the back of your hand. “Do you want to know more?” he asked, his voice quietly sultry.

           “Yes,” you whispered. With this admission, Jaehyun’s butterfly kisses became more daunting. He crashed his lips upon yours and held you closer. Your tongues soon met, messier and carelessly. Feeling daring, you ran your hand under his shirt, digging your fingernails against his abs. A bit lower, and you realized he was straining against his slacks. 

Jaehyun bucked under your touch, gasping against your lips. You gripped his clothed cock with more certainty than before and Jaehyun fumbled to reach your breast. Still against the door, you held each other. “We’re lucky this room is soundproof,” you commented, noting your precarious position. 

Not waiting for his response, you quickly undid Jaehyun’s belt followed by his zipper. You tugged his pants to his ankles and brought your attention to boxer-brief covered erection as you supported yourself on your knees. Laying a flat tongue against his balls, you drew a line from shaft to tip. He sucked in a sharp breath and watched you with hungry eyes as you finally removed the final layer of clothing. 

His erection sprung upwards, precum already forming. Zealously, you took the tip into your mouth and ran your tongue over the wet slit. You leaned back, seeing Jaehyun absolutely desperate as he stood over you. Continuing, you wet his dick with sloppy kisses. You wanted him to have everything, feel every part of your mouth. With one hand on the base, you craned your neck to take in more of him from the tip. You used your whole body to rock your mouth further down his dick. When he reached the back of your throat, you gagged slightly but didn’t care. Gently at first, he began to rock his hips. Becoming restless, Jaehyun held your head and pushed his erection further down your throat with messy thrusts. You looked at him with wide eyes, conveying for him to continue. 

Jaehyun instead picked you up as if you weighed nothing and placed you precariously on the couch. While naked from the waist down, you were still fully clothed. Wasting no time, Jaehyun ripped your blouse off - buttons and all flying wildly around the room. He pulled your bra cup down to reveal a nipple, to which he immediately pinched between his fingers. Already excited, he removed your black jeans and panties. Jaehyun lowered himself to your glistening pussy and brought a digit to his mouth before pushing it inside you. The penetration left you unwinding as he added another finger. He curled his fingers upwards, each push and pull hitting your g-spot. As you thrashed, he held you down with a firm hand, especially after he began sucking on your clit. In mere minutes, he brought you to your orgasm. You wished you had the words to describe the way you felt that immense pleasure, but nothing would ever be sufficient. 

Breathlessly you beckoned Jaehyun to the bathroom. “I have an IUD,” you confirmed. With your new found trust, you knew Jaehyun wouldn’t even attempt to sleep with you if he had an STD. There, you gazed at him from the mirror. Watched him approach you and run his hands up and down your body. He positioned one leg so that you were half propped over the sink and still standing on the other. Jaehyun’s dick teased your aching pussy as he dragged it from your folds to your clit to your entrance. Both facing the mirror, your eyes locked as Jaehyun pushed himself fully in you. You both drew in strained breaths. Once he ensured that you adjusted, he fucked you. Neither of you ever watched yourselves have sex, but you were even more turned on watching Jaehyun clutch onto your tit and whisper obscenities in your ear. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he growled, burying himself deeper in you. 

Jaehyun slowed his pace, suddenly lifting you and pushing you against the wall. He supported your entire weight as he fucked you there. 

“I’m going to ride you,” you said breathily, to which Jaehyun obliged immediately. He sat up straight on the futon, leading you to his cock once more. In that position, you put yourself to work. You bounced atop his dick, only stopping to grind your clit against his pelvis. You came unexpectedly, the sensation getting fucked and stimulating your clit becoming too much for you. Jaehyun and you both were surprised when a stream of liquid sprung out of you. 

With his mouth agape, Jaehyun looked at you. “You can squirt?”

Before that moment, you would’ve answered that no, you couldn’t squirt since you never had. Until then. He registered your shock and turned you so that your back rested against the futon. Jaehyun hovered over you, hair askew and face reddened. You imagined that you appeared the same. He kissed you, breathing “I don’t know how I got so lucky,” on your lips. 

Jaehyun unraveled quickly in this position, and you urged him to come on your tits. Following his orgasm, you attempted to clean yourselves up in the bathroom. “Everything smells like sex,” you observed, frivilously spraying Febreeze everywhere you could. Between futon cushions. The door handle, Jaehyun’s general direction. You didn’t realize you were shirtless until you saw a mess of buttons on the floor. 

A weak solution, but Jaehyun offered you his suit jacket. You’d have to walk out of the building crossing your arms and praying a nipple wouldn’t escape, but something. Once the room was clean, Jaehyun and you fine-tuned your own appearances in the bathroom. Neither of you looked refined or polished, but human. 

“I want more,” you admitted. 

At the same time, Jaehyun asked, “Can I buy you dinner?”

You shook your head. This version of Jaehyun, the one messily fucking you in an office nursing room, you preferred. “I just want to spend time with you.” 

Jaehyun smiled and agreed.

You left the room separately as to not arouse any suspicion. Jaehyun met you outside your car, once more carelessly spinning your keys. The sun had set by that time, leaving you both shrouded in moonlight. Despite the sun’s absence the air remained warm and inviting. “We’re going stargazing,” you decided. “After we change.” 

Jaehyun arrived at the agreed upon park first, sporting a loose shirt and Adidas joggers. You never had seen him dressed so casually. He already set up a blanket at the top of the hill and rested on his back. 

You wore a nearly identical outfit, and went without makeup. Normally, you hated it when your partners saw you without anything on. But you wanted Jaehyun to see this part of you, too. Despite living in a well-populated city, the stars appeared very clearly that night alongside a waxing crescent moon. 

“Do you think the managers set us up?” Jaehyun pondered, wrapping an arm around your waist as you joined him. 

“Without a doubt. And we’ll probably have to tell them about this at some point.”

And he kissed you again. How many times that night, you lost count. Looking at him, the image of the boy you met months ago flashed before your eyes. The one with the suit, the dashing smile, and dough-like dimples. You, a nervous wreck getting in her own way. 

You fell asleep on his shoulder that night, head buried in his neck as he snored quietly.  

[catxsnow]

CHALLENGE PT. TWO G.L.

Requests: hi i just read ur gar x reader and i'm literally weak it was so cute omg. is it to early to beg for a part 2 with fluff and jason being a little jealous bitch lollll it can be shorter idk how many ideas u have i just love the way u wrote gar -xoxo!

for part 2 to challenge u could have gar and y/n in different domestic scenarios being cute n in love and jason trying to break them up bc he's jealous and can't understand why their dating since they're both so different but in the end realising they're both perfect for each other and they all live happily ever after the end.

Warning: Jason being jealousssss

A/N: Part two to Challenge! I’m terrible at multiple part imagines but I hope I did this good enough justice! 

Word Count: 3.1k

Part One

Jason Todd didn't understand.

He didn't get how someone like you would ever end up with someone like Gar. Not that he believed Gar to be a bad person or anything, but the two of you were so different. You were confident, outgoing, and never could say no to a fun time. Gar on the other hand, was way more shy than you were, he was hesitant to get out of his comfort zone, and he was the biggest nerd.

The two of you were just polar opposites. So, when you got together, he was more than shocked to see how well you got along. He had known about your friendship, but never realized how close it was. He found himself getting irritated every time he saw the two of you together.

The first time that he was annoyed by your dating was when you were making dinner in the kitchen together. Even though you cooked for the whole team, the process seemed like such a private time with Gar. He would sit at the counter watching your every move until you had asked him to do something for you.

The moment that he was done with the task, he would stand behind you with his hands around your waist and his chin on your shoulder. He would reach his neck around as far as he could to kiss your lips. In anyone else eyes, the action would have been adorable. In Jason's, it was disgusting.

He had walked in while Gar was leaning against the counter, chatting with you and looking at you as if you were the utter love of his life. Jason didn't say anything, but the flush in his cheeks spoke loud enough: he was jealous.

Jason had lost the challenge, but he wasn't ready to give up quite yet.

The second time Jason was irritated was when he was sparring against you. It wasn't unusual for the two of you to fight against one another, but this time he had just been frustrated with you. Gar was going against Dick just on the other side of the room and the two of you would constantly be exchanging looks.

Between fights, whenever you had the upper hand, any time that you weren't losing you were throwing winks or kisses towards your boyfriend. Jason was furious. This was supposed to be a serious training session and you were just goofing off. You were never serious anymore since you started dating Gar.

When he finally had enough of it, he had stormed off after yelling at you. Though your feelings weren't hurt, Dick still ran after him to go scold him. That left you and Gar in the training room.

"You gonna release the beast this time?"

"In your dreams," Gar rolled his eyes. He still refused to fight against you as the tiger. Dating you had made him even more protective of you and that meant that he wasn't going to do anything that would purposefully harm you.

"Oh baby, you know it." Gar's face lit up bright red. He was still getting used to your confidence and your ever lasting need to try and get him to blush. Almost every time, it worked. He was a constant flustered mess around you and you loved it.

"Stop," Gar whined. You raised your fists up and jumped around the mat. He followed your lead and the two of you circled each other, antsy on who was going to make the first move. If he was to be honest, it was always you, and he didn't mind that.

"Make me," you winked.

><

By the the fifth time that Jason had been annoyed that the two of you were dating, he had completely lost it. He was out for the night, causing whatever chaos in the town. By the time that he got back home, he was nothing but disappointed and disgusted.

You and Gar had decided to have a stay at home date night which included movies, popcorn, and far too much laughter. Dating Gar might have been the best choice that you had ever made in your life.

You were happier than you had been in years. No longer having to keep your feelings hidden brought a weight off your chest and you felt as if you could breathe once more. Not that you wanted to curse it, but things were going perfect.

Gar opened up to you more than he ever had before. He trusted you with his secrets and you trusted him with yours. The friendship that you guys had was taken to a whole new level. You couldn't even think about what life would be like without him - even it was only a couple weeks since you had been officially started dating.

When it came down to it, he was your best friend first, and losing him without the addition of a relationship would have broken you. Now, you felt as if a literal piece of you would go missing if he left.

"(Y/N)," Gar dragged out your name. You were sprawled across the couch with a bowl of popcorn by your side. Everyone else was out that night which meant that you and Gar had the whole place to yourselves. You decided to take advantage of the big screen and have a much needed, relaxing, movie night. "You're taking up the whole couch."

"I know," You smirked at him. The popcorn was moved out of the way and you opened your arms up for Gar to lay beside you. He grinned and nearly leaped into the space. Gar covered your face in kisses before landing on your lips for a quick peck. You were completely encased by him and the blanket.

This was the first time that you had the tower all to yourselves and you had to admit that you were a little more than excited. Your mind wandered to everything that the two of you could be doing and you weren't sure where you wanted to start. Gar had decided for the both of you with a movie night.

He picked some sort of comedy movie that was sure to be filled with cringe-worthy jokes and raunchy humor - exactly what the two of you needed. After the rest of the team figured out that you two were dating - which didn't didn't long - they had endlessly teased you for it. Rachel bugged you with every chance she got, Dick lectured you as if you were still kids, and Jason... he was a little frustrated at the situation.

Gar knew about Jason's feelings towards you, but he also knew that you were nothing but a conquest for him. He didn't want to date you - he wanted to sleep with you. That wasn't who you were, and Gar knew it. As much as he was worried about Jason taking you from him, he knew that he trusted your more than anyone.

Throughout the movie, Gar couldn't keep his hands off of you. The rested on your waist, played with your hair, intertwined with your fingers, and once he even dared to try and tickle you. You never realized how much of a touchy person he really was until dating him. You didn't mind - not when it came to him.

Even when you got up to go get another drink for yourself, he followed behind you with is arms around your waist making it much harder to walk anywhere. Gar had gotten you, and he wasn't planning on letting you go anytime soon.

Just before the movie ended, Jason had come back to the tower. Neither of you had heard him come in until he loudly groaned at the sight of you. You were still wrapped up with Gar, not even paying attention to the movie as you left kisses up his neck. It distracted him enough from both the movie and Jason.

"Seriously guys? Get a fucking room," Jason complained. Gar had nearly fell off the couch in surprise and you couldn't help but giggle. PDA was something that never bothered you, at least not nearly as much as it bothered Gar.

"Sorry, Jay," you apologized. "Movie's almost over. You can stick around for another one if you want."

"Hard pass," Jason rolled his eyes. "I'll watch a movie with you another night though." You could tell from the tone in his voice that he meant you, and only you. Jason never had a particular problem with Gar until the second you two started dating. It was more evident than ever that he didn't like the younger man.

"Yeah, maybe another time," you partially brushed him off. His smile held hope that what you said was true. Jason gave you a little wink before heading back to his own room. "He's impossible."

"Tell me about it," Gar rolled his eyes. He pecked your lips once more and was caught off by a yawn. You giggled a little at him - the sound of it lit up his face. Gar was absolutely entranced by every sound and movement you made. "Do you wanna stay over in my room tonight?"

"No offense Gar, but last time I stayed in your room I was up half the night sneezing from your tiger hair," you tried to hold back a laugh. "However, you are more than welcome - if not encouraged - to stay in my room tonight."

"It's not my fault I shed!" Gar laughed with you. "I guess I'm going to have to take you up on that offer." He leaned down to peck you - but you had kept him close and deepened the kiss. Your hands ran through his green hair and enticed a quiet moan as you tugged on the roots.

"Guys! Seriously!" Jason yelled. He had come back to the kitchen to get a glass of water only to see the two of you making out on the couch. That was his breaking point. He could deal with the hand holding, the hugs, even the pecks. But seeing the two of you make out on the couch where he sat, too? That was far past his limits.

Jason scowled at the two of you. His eyes darted between you and the mess of Gar's hair that you made. He was not impressed - that was easy to tell.

"I'm tired of seeing you two together! It's non-fucking stop," Jason expressed himself. You knew he had been upset at you and Gar for getting together, but you didn't think that he was holding this much back. "Grow the fuck up, there's other people living here too this isn't just your home. You don't see me having girls hanging off my arm everywhere do you? No. Stop being so, so gross!"

Jason stormed off leaving the two of you to sit there in shock. Jason was jealous of your relationship with Gar. He always had a crush on you - you knew that from the start. However, seeing the two of you together being a cute couple? You didn't realize how badly this could hurt his feelings.

As much of an asshole that Jason was, he didn't deserve for you and Gar to rub your relationship in his face.  And it wasn't like you meant to. Everything with Gar just flowed so easily, you barely even noticed that you were shoving your relationship down everyone's throats. However, the other's didn't see it that way, only Jason.

"I feel bad," you muttered. Gar rested his back against the couch as you snuggled into his side.

"Why?"

"Jason's always been nice to me, I don't want to stop being friends with him just because we're dating," you explained yourself. Gar squeezed your shoulder and kissed the top of your head. He didn't realize he could care for you even more since the short few weeks that you two had been dating.

Gar wanted you to have the world. He always wanted that for you. It seemed that every day his only task was to make you smile at least once. Whether it was him being his usual nerdy self, or surprising you with something he found in the store. He always managed to make you happy, and he wanted to keep you that way.

If that meant that he would have to deal with you and Jason being friends, then so be it. Even if he was jealous as soon as the older man walked into the room, he trusted you. There was a reason that you choose him over Jason.

"You know Jason. He gets frustrated and he over reacts, I'm sure he'll cool down soon."

><

It took a while for Jason to cool down afterwards, but he eventually did. 

It seemed like he spent the next couple weeks trying to sabotage your relationship. Going extra hard on you at training, taking away your time with Gar to help him with something, even getting one of you to do some stupid mundane task for him to split you apart.

He was trying his best to prove that he was right, you two didn't belong together. Yet, it seemed like after every pursuit he had, it seemed to only bring you closer together. You and Gar were the opposite of what Jason believed you to be - you were perfect together. While you brought out more confidence within Gar, he kept you grounded.

The two of you may have been polar opposites, but that didn't mean that you were any less good for each other. Jason had to learn that the hard way - and he did. It took him a while to see that you two were truly meant to be together. Even after all of his frustrated comments and actions, he realized that he was wrong.

Which was why after shamefully telling you that Gar wasn't good enough for someone like you, he had finally broke. Jason had seen the heartbroken look on Gar's face when he walked in just at the wrong time and the rage filled look on yours. He had known he messed up the second the words came out of his mouth.

That night you had spent the night with Gar wrapped around your arms and his head on your chest, telling him repeatedly that there was no one else that you would rather be with than him.   He felt like Jason was right - he wasn't good enough for someone like you. Gar couldn't be more wrong.

"Gar, don't listen to him. You said yourself, Jason's jealous, he's gonna say stupid shit that he doesn't mean," you assured. Your fingers ran through his hair in hopes to comfort him. "Beside's what's it matter what he thinks? It's me 'n you right? That's all that matters."

"Still doesn't mean I don't feel shitty," Gar grumbled. He buried his head into the blanket covering you both and sighed.

"You want me to go beat him up?" You asked, only half joking. Gar just let out a grunt in response. You hoped that the comment would have made him feel better. "I know what's gonna make you believe me that what Jason said was bull," you suddenly came up with.

Gar peaked his head out from the blanket just enough to stare up at you. He knew the look on your face and that it meant that you were up to no good. There were many things running through your mind as to how you could prove this to him - many of them ideas where you knew you'd need to lock your door - but this one in particular was nothing like that.

You ripped the blanket off of you and headed over to your dresser. Gar watched as you rummaged through to find whatever it was that you wanted. His gaze went from your bare legs all the way up your body - followed by a tinge of pink on his cheeks.

Rain pattered against your window and filled the silence in the room. Finally, you pulled out a small CD case which contained a singular disk. Gar looked at you with raised eyebrows, but you said nothing as you went to the old player in the corner of your room and popped it in.

A grin fell on your cheeks as the music began. You spun around to face Gar and stuck your hand out for him to grab. "Dance with me?" You asked. Gar matched your smile and accepted your hold. "This is the playlist from my parent's wedding... Haven't been able to listen to it in a long time but I figured if there's anyone I would want to listen to it with, it's you."

Your hand was encased in his, the other on his shoulder while his was on your hip. The two of you slowly paced around your room. Your head rested against his chest and you couldn't help but sway a little to the beat. This was perfect, these were the moment that you would forever cherish with Gar.

As the song neared ending, your looked up to meet his eyes. They were glassy, but held no sadness within them. You let go of his hand and placed both of your palms against his cheeks. Gar leaned into your touch. You cranked your chin up to meet his lips.

This kiss had been different than the rest of them. This was slow, each second filled with every ounce of adoration you had for this boy. You wanted him to know that he had no reason to fear for Jason, it was him that you wanted. Gar was everything to you, and upon realizing that in only a matter of weeks? It had to mean that this was going to be permanent.

You pulled away from the kiss. Gar was grateful for you. You knew how to cheer him up even when he didn't realize that he needed it. You knew him better than he thought, and that was what his weakness was. You were his weakness.

"Believe me now? Garfield Logan?" You asked.

"I think I'm going to need another kiss, just to be sure."

"I think I can manage that."

[cozy-the-overlord]

Dances and Daggers

Summary:   The Summer Festival is upon Asgard, as is the tradition of the dagger ceremony, where each unmarried gentleman chooses a lady to bestow with the honor of carrying his dagger for the night. As Prince Thor’s betrothed, Teki’s only goal is to accept his dagger with grace and hope that her violent stepfather doesn’t find fault with her in the process. But Prince Thor is unpredictable, and when he ignores his engagement on a whim Teki finds herself in a desperate situation. Luckily, Thor isn’t the only prince in Asgard…

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Chapter 9: The Practice

Previous Chapter |  Next Chapter

Word Count: 2,849

Chapter Summary: The search for Teki’s father is put on hold with the approach of another Asgardian tradition.

Thanks for reading! :)

TW: mentions of child abuse

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae

if you want to be tagged, feel free to just send me an ask! :)

Read it on Ao3!

“There!” Brant smacked his remaining playing cards on to the table. “I win!”

Teki smiled distractedly, dumping her own hand on to the table. “Good job Brant. But remember, winner cleans up.”

She watched her brother scoop the cards back into the deck without really paying much attention. A part of her felt guilty. Osvald was out of town, away on one of his semi-annual jaunts to the less populated area of Asgard where he and some other gentlemen of the court would ride off to the countryside for a fortnight to hunt and drink and do goodness knows what else while they were free from the watchful eyes of their wives. Teki had always looked forward to these trips. With Osvald gone, she was free, too— free to breathe easy for a little while, play with Brant without looking over her shoulder, enjoy a dinner without wondering what would happen if Thor didn’t ask her to dance.

But this time, she couldn’t bring herself to be as excited. While Teki was still grateful for the respite, Völundr’s disclosure weighed heavily on her mind. It was difficult to say nothing as she stood in her closet while her mother fretted about which dress she should wear to dinner. It was strange—her mother never talked about their time with her father, and yet somehow Teki felt as though she had been lied to. Her mother had always been quick to lecture, quick to criticize whenever she came too close to crossing the line of impropriety.

“Watch yourself!” she scolded one night on their way back from dinner, when Teki had spent little time dancing with Prince Thor and far too much dancing with his brother. “Keep this up and you’ll find yourself with a reputation, and then where will all of us be?”

You would know, wouldn’t you?

Teki didn’t say anything, though. She wasn’t certain how her mother would react to learning that she knew her secret. Deny it, probably. Admonish Teki for believing it. Demand to know where she had heard such a thing. She’d do her best to shut it down as quickly as possible, then go back to pretending that nothing had happened and everything was fine. But she’d look at Teki differently, the same suspicious way Teki now looked at her, perpetually wondering what her daughter was really thinking below the surface. Teki wasn’t certain she was ready to open that can of worms.

She was still playing piano for the Queen nearly every day. While she tried not to play exclusively from her father’s catalogue, Frigga didn’t seem to mind that she mostly stuck to pieces he wrote. She would ask questions about her father and his inspiration and seemed to genuinely listen to her responses. At first, Teki was guarded in her answers. Somehow, she found it a little hard to believe that the Queen of the Nine Realms cared about the backstory behind a song she had never heard before. There had to be some ulterior motive to her interest.

But as it went on, Teki realized that even if there was some calculated reasoning behind her conversations with Frigga, she didn’t care. It was nice, talking about music and her father, how he’d get an idea suddenly while they were walking through the garden and rush back to their rooms so he could start working with it as soon as he could. And it was nice to feel as if someone—not just someone, an adult—wanted to hear more.

One morning, when she was returning from Frigga’s quarters, Teki was startled by a familiar voice coming from behind the cracked door of her apartment.

“That’s close, that’s very close! But there’s only one ‘L.’ M-U-S-P-E-L-H-E-I-M.”

Frowning, she pushed open the door to find Prince Loki sitting on the floor next to her brother, who was frantically scribbling something down in a notebook. He looked up grinning when she entered.

“Hi Teki!”

She cocked her head, stifling a giggle at the way Loki hurriedly pulled himself to his feet.

“What’s going on in here?” she asked.

Brant waved the notebook. “Prince Loki’s teaching me how to write the names of all the Nine Realms!”

“I stopped by to talk to you,” Loki added quickly. The tips of his ears were pink. “He said he needed help, so...” He motioned towards Brant on the floor.

He shifted awkwardly, but Teki was touched. “Really? That was really nice of you.” As the prince’s cheeks flushed the same color as his ears, she looked at her brother. “Why do you need to write the names of all the Nine Realms?”

Brant glanced around the room, as if checking for eavesdroppers.

“I’m making a map!” he whispered conspiratorially.

“A map?” she whispered back, matching his tone. “A map to what?”

He shook his head. “I can’t tell you. It’s a secret.”

Teki chuckled as he returned to his notebook. He had been a lot more talkative recently, and not just with her. She suspected that Loki’s visits, which had been becoming increasingly frequent, may have had something to do with it.

She turned back to the prince. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Oh, nothing in particular,” he shrugged apologetically. “I just wanted to see you—see that you were well.”

“Oh, well, I am.” Teki was suddenly feeling much warmer than before. She glanced down at the floor. “Thank you.”

They stood together in awkward silence for a bit, the only sound being the frantic scratching of Brant’s pen on the paper.

Loki was the first to break it. “Are you excited for the Games?” he asked abruptly.

Teki frowned. “Are they coming up already?” Wonderful. The Games were nothing but a demonstration of violence and deranged screaming, and Teki dreaded them every year.

He nodded. “Three more weeks.” After a moment’s hesitation, he added, “I’m playing this year.”

She startled. “Really?” It made sense, she supposed—if she was of age for Thor to give her his dagger, then Loki must be of age to participate, but somehow Loki and the Games occupied two opposite, irreconcilable parts of her mind. Teki wasn’t sure how to respond. “Wow, that’s… exciting.”

“It is,” he agreed, gazing down at the floor. “It’s rather daunting, as well. Everyone expects so much…” He looked back up at her with an eagerness that was only slightly masked. “You’ll be there, right?”

The question was simple enough, but it felt like he was asking something else. Something deeper. Something he should’ve known Teki couldn’t answer.

“Of course,” she said slowly. “I’m there every year. To support Thor.”

Loki stiffened. “Oh. Right,” he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “How could I forget?”

Guilt washed over her. Teki looked away. She shouldn’t have mentioned Thor. She should’ve just said that she’d be there left at that. Stupid, stupid…

“Hey!” They both turned to see Brant glaring up at them. “How do you spell ‘Svartalfheim’?”

The anticipation for the Games only grew as the days went on. Prince Thor began hosting a daily training session with his friends in the sparring pit—whether because he genuinely wanted the practice or just to show off, Teki wasn’t certain. Loki had been joining them as well, leaving her without much to do. It was a strange realization—since when did she spend so much time with Loki? It shouldn’t have mattered, but she felt his absence throughout the day, as she walked through the gardens by herself or sat scanning her father’s journal in the library alone. Strange…

She found herself heading to the sparring pit every afternoon to watch them practice. That was strange too, because usually she avoided these fights like the plague, but despite the shouting and the cursing and the hitting and the crashing she kept returning every day. Teki told herself it was just because she was bored, and had absolutely nothing to do with the way Loki’s face had lit up the first time he noticed her leaning against the fence.

At first, she worried that people would wonder at her sudden interest in the Games, but as time went on and no one questioned her, she realized this was normal. Expected, even. Because to them, she wasn’t coming to support Loki. They assumed she was there for Thor. Her betrothed.

Her betrothed wasn’t very nice. Thor was strong, and he seemed to enjoy making a show of it. He always helped his opponent to their feet after defeating them, but there was something mocking in his tone that Teki didn’t like. His laughter boomed across the palace courtyard as he body slammed one of his friends to the ground yet again.

“You weren’t even trying!”

It was hard to believe that he and Loki were so closely related.  The younger prince was much quieter in his approach, quick to dodge and lighter on his feet. His strategy was less about force and more about patience, letting his opponent chase him around the arena until they tired. When they made a mistake, he was always swift to pounce.  Based on their reactions, Teki got the feeling that Thor and his friends hadn’t expected his little brother to be so capable of holding his own. She didn’t dare to clap for his victories, but she couldn’t bring herself to hide her grin.

However, when he sparred with Thor, it was a different story. The Crown Prince seemed determined to put his brother in his place. He pounded against Loki mercilessly, backing him into a corner and affording him no room to dodge. Teki cringed, covering her eyes with her hands. Why did people like this?

She waited for Loki to yield, but instead the crowd rippled with cries of surprise. She peeked between her fingers to see the Thor on the ground, the younger prince standing above him, staff in hand and smirking.

Teki frowned, confused. What happened?

Thor jumped to his feet with a roar. “Cheat!” He shoved Loki’s chest, so hard that Loki stumbled backwards. “You know damn well magic is against the rules!”

Oh.

The younger prince picked himself up, brushing the dust off his breastplate.

“I still don’t see why,” he grinned. “In battle, one should take advantage of any skill afforded to them.”

Yes, she wondered, why isn’t magic allowed? Shouldn’t such a talent merit the same celebration as fighting with a sword? It certainly had more varied uses than simple violence. Her thoughts strayed to the night of Loki’s Nameday Feast, how easily he had cloaked them both in an illusion when Osvald came pounding through the door. What would have happened if he hadn’t been able to do that? Teki shivered. She agreed with Loki.

But Thor was fuming. “A true warrior doesn’t hide behind childish tricks,” he snapped. “Anyone who does is either cowardly or incompetent.”

“Now, now, Thor, go easy on him.” To the right, Fandral hopped the fence and joined the two of them in the arena. He smiled at Loki, his voice facetiously pleasant. “We all know that he’s more accustomed to the classroom than the battleground.”

Loki flinched. Teki didn’t really understand the insult, but hearing it from the blond warrior-in-training was enough to make bile rise in her throat. Loki had told her more about Fandral after the night they ran into him by the lake, although the five minutes of interaction she had exchanged with him was more than enough to cement her dislike. He was narcissistic and obnoxious, clinging to Thor’s friendship like a flea clings to a dog. He laughed as Loki picked up his staff and trudged out of the arena, jaw tight.

Teki watched him, brow creased. He was upset—she could tell. She wished she could go to him, talk to him, make sure he was all right, but there were too many people around—she didn’t want to risk making a scene. Instead, she just kept on staring, willing him to look up at her so she could give him a reassuring smile or… something. She wasn’t exactly sure. It didn’t matter in the end. Loki kept his gaze firmly fixed on the ground.

But one of the others didn’t seem to have any qualms about looking at Teki. She wasn’t certain when Sif had first noticed her watching the fighters train, but in the ensuing days she became painfully aware of the icy glare the warrior-maiden seemed to reserve just for her.

Today, Sif had only ripped her gaze from Teki long enough to disarm her opponent and pin him to the floor. She made eye contact with her even as she held her boot against his throat. Teki shifted uncomfortably. The message was clear enough: this is my territory.

She didn’t know much about Sif, except that she trained with the boys and Thor liked her. Loki had called Thor’s feelings a passing fancy, but the summer was nearly over and he still danced with her every night. Teki couldn’t blame him. Sif was his age, with his strength and his wildfire. She was gorgeous in an angry sort of way—wearing armor instead of dresses had given her a kind of exotic beauty Teki knew she could never hope to achieve. Teki would’ve admired her if she wasn’t so terrifying.

It’s not my fault! she wanted to scream as Sif exited the arena, still glowering. It’s not my fault we’re engaged! I swear!

But it really came to a head at the end of the week.

Thor and his friends were taking a break for water, leaning up against the fence post only a little way up from Teki. Most of the other spectators had left already, and she was thinking that perhaps it was time for her to go as well—she had been watching for a few hours already, and she wanted to be back in her rooms before Osvald got home that evening—when out of nowhere Sif snapped her gaze to her.

“You’re a little young to be hanging around the sparring pit all the time, aren’t you?”

Teki froze. Suddenly, the entire group was silent and staring at her.

“What’s that?” Thor asked, confused.

Sif jerked her head towards her. “Your fiancé. She’s been here every day for the two weeks. Hadn’t you noticed?”

“Uh—” Clearly, he hadn’t. With the awkward air of one who was at a loss for how to respond, Thor gave a jerky bow in her direction. “Lady Tekla.”

Burning, Teki quickly curtseyed. “My prince.”

Fandral laughed. “Her prince! Why, such a devoted bride you have,” he bowed too, although his was much more exaggerated. “Tell us, Lady Tekla, how do you find your betrothed?” he smirked. “Are you pleased with his form?”

Teki blanched, pulling away from the railing. “I—”

“Let her alone Fandral.” She relaxed a bit once Loki interjected. He stood in the back of the group, arms crossed in irritation. “I doubt she wants to waste her time with the likes of you.”

She inhaled deeply. They were all looking at Loki now. Her trembling fingers picked at her sash as she focused on her breathing. In and out. They’ll have forgotten you in a moment. In and out.

But Fandral was frowning. He glanced back and forth between her and Loki, slowly raising a finger.

“Just a moment…” He turned to the younger prince in bewildered amusement. “Was she the one with you that night?”

Teki’s heart dropped.

No, no no no no—

“What are you talking about?” Loki asked flippantly, but Fandral wasn’t having any of it.

“She was, wasn’t she?” he cried, whipping back to Teki. “The night of your Nameday Feast! You were frolicking about the grounds with your brother’s bride-to-be?” He threw his head back with a guffaw. “Oh, that’s rich!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Loki insisted, glancing anxiously at Teki. Her whole body was shaking. Fandral was still going on, but she barely heard him.

He’s going to find out.

“What happened?” Thor was asking.

“Oh, I caught them after they had snuck away from the feast,” Fandral had completely doubled over laughing. “They were sitting by the lake together. They were all wet—I think they had been swimming!”

Everyone seemed to be speaking at once, hooting, giggling. Teki couldn’t tell one breath from the next.

We wouldn’t want to embarrass ourselves, would we Tekla?

“No, we weren’t—” Loki’s desperation was cut off by Volstagg clapping his shoulder.

“Barely of age, and already making his brother a cuckold!” he bellowed. “I didn’t know he had it in him!”

The others howled.

Oh Norns, he’s going to kill me!

She couldn’t breathe.

Loki pushed his way to her, reaching through the fence just as her vision was darkening.

“Teki!” His voice was brimming with concern, but she only heard Fandral’s response.

“And he’s got a pet name for her too!”

Loki was still talking to her, but instincts had taken over. Teki turned and bolted.

[ka-za-ri]

Descent Pt. 7

Hi! I spent the last three days writing this chapter by smashing my head against the keyboard! I hope you enjoy! Also, SURPRISE! Lucifer!

Chapter Index and Obey Me! Masterlist: here Ao3 Mirror: Here Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10] 

Pairing: Simeon x Lucifer x Reader   Genre: Smut   Wordcount: 6,200 ish   Tags: Angst, Self harm/Self Mutilation, threesome F/M/M, Voyeurism, spitroasting Summary: Simeon asks for forgiveness and for a helping hand to finish his book.

Drip

He could ask for your forgiveness all he wanted, but you were under no obligation to give it to him. It was to be expected that you would pull away from him as soon as you awoke. It didn’t surprise him at all when you couldn’t bear to stand his touches. He deserved it for pushing too far.

He could ask for forgiveness, but God had long forsaken him.

Distance made the pain more tolerable. As long as he turned his mind off from everything else, he could imagine that it had all been a terrible dream that fueled his writing. If he focused everything he had to the sound of fingers on the keyboard, he wouldn’t have to think about the way you choked out his pen name, the despair in your eyes or the tears streaming down your face when you begged for mercy. He didn’t want to think about how shameful it was for him to be elated to see those desperate expressions from you.

He didn’t ask if your cuts and wounds were healing well. He knew they would. The inperceivable amount of magic he had used on you while you were passed out in his arms would ensure that. The only thing he wasn’t sure about anymore was his relationship with you and how you felt about him after what he put you through.

You managed to somehow keep things cordial. Despite what happened, you were both professionals in your field. Deadlines didn’t change just because of a botched session. You still had to read through his words and relive everything he did to you. It was mandatory to stay objective and help him create the most immaculate product possible. In the end, it was all about business and you had learned long ago to separate work from your personal life. It was just unfortunate that your personal life had also become your work with your current project.

The distraction of work didn’t stop the pain though. It didn’t stop you from waking up covered in a cold sweat every other night having dreamed of those dangerous dark eyes. You hadn’t gone to see him ever since that day, not like you really could. You weren’t sure if you really wanted to see him again. Work was piling up, the world around you kept spinning even if yours had stopped momentarily. Regardless of what your feelings were, you needed to run to keep up with the world and didn’t have time to think of yourself.

The scars he left behind healed well, they left no marks except for the invisible ones he carved into your heart that day. You could still feel the cold steel of the knife being dragged slowly across your skin, right at your ribs as he spelled his name, made you his and owned you for a brief moment in time. The cuts to the corners of your mouth and tongue healed remarkably quickly without leaving any blemishes. But the ghosting feeling of something cold and sharp never seemed to disappear along with the scabs.

Days melded into one another. You were able to bury yourself into work, wrecking whatever sleep schedule you normally had to distract yourself from reality. Piles upon piles of manuscripts all melted into one another and you slowly lost track of who wrote what along with the remnants of your sanity. The crinkle of paper as you turned pages was the last physical reminder that your reality was intimately tied to Simeon regardless of how much you wanted to get away from him.

Distance made things easier to bear. The need to stay separated was mutual. Simeon had a lot to reflect on and a lot to do. For the most part, his manuscript was done. The only thing he had left was the concluding chapter. He couldn’t bring himself to write it. Every time he put his fingers on the keyboard, he thought of you and everything you had done for him along with everything you did with him. His book had became an oddly intimate look at his desires and the inevitable end that he needed to write.

His eyes ached from staring at the screen for so long. The blinking cursor on the document taunted him. No matter how many times he wrote and rewrote, the ending wouldn’t come out right. He needed you the most, yet he could not rely on you when you were so far away. Toys had gotten him so far, but describing the intimacy of affection between two humans felt like an insurmountable task. There had to be away around it. The heavy burden of sin weighed on his shoulders as he warred with himself. His name, his reputation, all for the fall? It was impossible.

He had to see a way through it.

Until he could figure it out; he deserved every little bit of scorn you threw at him. Every passing day, hour, minute, and second that went without being in contact with you drained him. The color in his world slowly disappeared until there was nothing but the black text on white paper.

It started just at the corner of his vision. In his dark office, it was easy to ignore when his focus was on the words in front of him. It was easy to pretend nothing was wrong when he went to get a cup of tea. But, the change was definite and true. Soon enough, he wondered just when did he own so many mugs in various shades of gray.

Ah, so this is what it’s come to. I suppose it’s fitting.

He could feel his senses slowly seeping away from him, ashamed of everything he did. He held the facade of an upright and chivalrous angel, but internally he was a husk of himself. Somehow, he had managed to become a demon without falling from grace. He supposed it should have been considered a miracle. It meant that not all hope was lost. If he applied himself, then surely he could claw his way out of the hole he created.

If.

If only he cared enough to do such a thing. Living as a shell seemed to be so much easier than pretending he was immune to human temptation. In pursuit of a perfect craft, he lost himself to all the allure the human realm had to offer. Two steps away from the gates of Hell, there seemed to be no turning back. Sacrifices had to be made in order to obtain perfection. Perhaps selling his soul to the devil was the last option he had to achieve it. It would be a worthy price to pay.

Pain made it easier to bear the weight of sin. It wasn’t a modern method by any means, but it brought him closer to the light once more. He repented with every crack of the whip upon his back, every scar he inflicted on himself. For every drop of blood he shed, he returned to the good he dedicated so much of his life to. The injuries would heal within a day, but the lingering ache would linger across his skin. The pain made him forget you and remember who he was. He was good. He was good.

He was good.

The most poignant thing he learned in the world of humans was the emotion of fear. That deep terror within him stirred as he thought of losing everything he had with change. After centuries of living, Simeon never doubted his powers or his wisdom until he had his finger hovering over your contact number to call and beg you for help. His hand shook while he stared blankly at the screen in front of him. He was so close to the end, yet so far away from the one person who would get him there. He was better than this, but he didn’t want anything greater than what he had created with you.

His simmering desires for you convinced him to call while the last vestiges of his goodness prevented him from making the call. He lost track of just how many hours he berated himself mentally all the while staring at numbers on his phone screen taunting him to take those last few steps to Hell.

And then. A light in his darkness.

[SMS: Do you need help?]

You knew exactly why he had been ignoring all your emails and your attempts at contacting him. You had needed your own time to heal and process everything that happened. Nearly a month had passed without a peep from him and you sincerely started to wonder if Simeon was alright. He canceled an unprecedented number of appearances and interviews. The PR mess that followed from that was enough to make you lose a full week of sleep. You didn’t blame him though, after you left his home that night when the storm finally passed, he seemed so tired.

You didn’t want to push the issue if you could help it. The book was almost complete. You had read it so many times over in your editing you swore you had a majority of it memorized. With only the final chapter missing, you could predict where his story was going, and the man rarely ever strayed from his outlines. An intimate and loving scene with his protagonist and her love interest who saved her from the clutches of evil was in order.

With the nature of the subject and were your relationship had just taken a turn to, you weren’t surprised at all he hadn’t submitted anything to you. Three days before your final deadlines and he still hadn’t contacted you. It was so uncharacteristic of him to turn in his work late; you had to take the initiative to get him to finish on time. So, it was a fair amount of despair that you sent that text, asking him if he needed help. Even if you skin crawled just thinking about being touched by him, you needed to do your job.

You clenched your phone, waiting for the screen to light up, your knuckles turning white from the force of your grip. You didn’t want to do this, but you had to. Someone had to be the adult and take one for the team. With Simeon’s name being so revered, it was clear to you that the minor sacrifice of your comfort for one more session with him would be worth it in the end.

So why couldn’t you stop yourself from crying?

The way he lilted his voice when he chased you still haunted your dreams at night. No matter how many blankets you wrapped around you could save you from the chill of that dreaded cold knife he dragged across your skin. There was no point in distancing yourself from him. Despite what happened, he was good. Having spent years working with him, you were sure you had a firm grasp of who he was as a person.

“Do you trust me?”

“I do...”

[SMS: come see me when you can]

You let out an earth shattering sigh. Whether it was from relief or from fear, you didn’t know. What you did know that it would all be over soon. The stress of the book, the anxiety you felt about Simeon, the pain that spread across your chest every time you thought about him, all of it would be over as soon as you got to see him again and figure it all out in person.

There was a terrible little part of you that was so curious about how he was going to solve the last piece of the puzzle to his book. The only way to find out was to go see him.

~~

“What a surprise. A call from the great Christopher Peugeot himself.”

“Listen.”

“I am. Go on.”

Simeon sighed, already regretting the call he was making. After receiving your text, he wracked his brain for a solution to the ending of his book. He was so close, he could feel it; but the guilt he felt towards you prevented him from taking what he craved. It was after much agonizing and staring blankly at a wall that the idea struck him. He’d have to take matters in his own hands and direct the ending himself.

For that, he needed an extra helping hand.

Which is what landed him in the situation he was in at the current moment. Bargaining with the devil to help him. He didn’t think he’d stoop so low to pull on old connections. Yet, there he was, on the phone with someone he hadn’t spoken to in decades.

“I need your help…” Simeon admitted, still struggling with voicing his needs.

“Well, I assumed as much if you’re making the effort to talk on a personal line. How long has it been since I gave you this number? Twenty? Thirty years, now?”

“Twenty-seven, but that’s besides the point.” Simeon could feel the inkling of frustration creeping into his voice. His old friend always had the ability to pull out the worst in him. Spending over half a century in the human realm, they managed to stay out of each other’s hair for the most part.

His friend chuckled on the other side of the line. “Alright, what can I do for you?”

“Are you free this weekend? I uhm… I need some help with the last scene of my book.”

“Oh? The great Christopher Peugeot himself needs assistance from me? I’m flattered you’d consider me.”

“Just call me Simeon, Lucifer. Stop playing around.”

“I’ll clear up my schedule. I wouldn’t miss the chance to help you.”

Simeon sighed. He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or terrified that Lucifer agreed to help him out. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

“Oh, I know.” Lucifer was practically singing on the other end with smug excitement. “Should I prepare for anything in particular?”

“I… Uhm… I can explain when you get here.”

“Always the mysterious one...” Lucifer chided, chuckling softly. He didn’t push the subject any further and Simeon was glad for it. “From what I’ve seen from the press releases of your upcoming title, I can only assume I’ll need to wear my best underwear.”

“Do whatever you want. I’ll see you this weekend.” Simeon grumbled before ending the call. His face felt like it was on fire. He didn’t think he had hit rock bottom until he made an agreement with the devil.

It was truly unfortunate that the devil was the only person he could trust with this task.

~~

“Oh, welcome! Come on in. We’ve been waiting.” The actual CEO of Akuzon was the last person you expected to see when you arrived at Simeon’s home that weekend. To say you were stunned was an understatement. You were stuck standing at the doorway, mouth agape and eyes wide, looking like a fool. It took a surprising amount of prying to get you to move past the door and into the home.

Simeon was already hard at work in the living room, typing frantically while Lucifer ushered you in. The grin on his face was full of mirth and amusement. It was clear he knew exactly the effect he had on people and he wasn’t pulling any punches when it came to throwing the weight of his power around.

“Simeon and I go way back.” Lucifer explained, taking a seat once he was sure you weren’t going to faint from shock. “When he asked me to help him out, there was no way I could deny him.”

Your words needed to catch up with your brain as the pieces started to clicked together. All you could manage was a lame “Ah.” You nodded slowly, looking back and forth between the two men, waiting for someone to confirm your suspicions.

Simeon finished typing and finally looked up. It seemed like he wanted to approach you, but he stayed put, unable to bring himself to get closer to you without your permission. “I cannot ask for you to trust me again. Not after what I put you through. I… I still need help with the last chapter of this book. So, I know it’s a lot to ask of you, but would you be comfortable with putting your trust in him?”

You blinked rapidly digesting what Simeon was proposing. You slowly turned your head to look at Lucifer who was casually lounging in his seat, his head resting on his propped up arm. A knowing smirk on his face while he waited for your answer. He practically exuded endless charisma and carried himself as every bit of the CEO he was. It was hard to deny his charm and you felt yourself nod before you could really process the gravity of your situation.

You hadn’t realized the anxious pressure in your chest relieve itself when your brain finally grasped the fact that you wouldn’t be at risk with seeing that side of Simeon again this time. This was a new partner, a new experience, a new touch, a good touch. You could do this.

There was still the hurdle of getting over being intimate with a man you had only seen in headlines. You expected that to be a rather difficult hindrance to the authenticity of the scene Simeon wanted to write. After all, it was supposed to be a soft and loving scene, nothing like what you had last gone through. Managing that with a stranger seemed to be a rather tall task.

Lucifer didn’t seem bothered by what he needed to do at all. Having been filled in with the gist of the situation, it was easy to slip just a hint of charm magic into his words to coax you out of your shell. He smiled, taking off the casual blazer he had on to reveal a perfectly fitted dress shirt hugged his frame in all the right places. Well, he doesn’t spare any expenses when it comes to looking good, no matter what the circumstances. Duly noted…

“Come here.” He beckoned, tilting his head and calling you over with just that motion.

Your body moved on its own, drawn to his aura, entranced by his name and his looks as well as his natural allure. When you locked eyes with him, it was as if Simeon wasn’t even in the room with you two anymore. The world faded away and you felt a warmth spread across your chest where the anxiety once was. He effortlessly made you feel safe somehow and you found yourself sitting in his lap without being asked to. He placed his arms loosely around you and the air between the two of you was absolutely electric.

You only noticed Simeon again when he walked over and adjusted his friend’s arms. He mumbled to himself as if possessed. He was present in the moment, but his mind was clearly elsewhere, writing his book while he posed the two of you in the ideal scenario. You could hear him come up with dialog on the fly, guiding Lucifer’s hands to your lower back to cradle you gently in his lap. With a little more direction Simeon had Lucifer rest his head at the crook of your neck. “I need you two to pretend to like each other… Please...”

You could feel Lucifer smirk against your skin, his lips just brushing against your pulse point when he spoke. “Oh, I won’t need to pretend to like her.”

You suppressed a shiver. Lucifer’s breath was so warm and his cologne was so cloying it made you feel rather lightheaded. There was an element of unspoken shame between the three of you. Allowing a stranger into what you had already established with Simeon felt so wrong. To do this with an old friend of his no less, there was distinct sense of sin about it the scene that felt rather right given the circumstances that lead up to it.

It was a blessing that Lucifer was so naturally handsome and mesmerizing. You were sure if it had been anyone else, it wouldn’t have been so easy to feel at home in his lap. His long fingers playing at the hem of your blouse while he pressed soft kisses at your neck. If you remembered the sequence of events of the book correctly, the main character had just been saved by her ‘husband’ who happened to be an assassin given the same target at she had been. You needed to put yourself in the protagonist’s mind, pretend that the man in front of you was as precious as a spouse and as marvelous as a savior.

Lucifer fell into his role seamlessly, kissing your skin as if he had almost lost his most treasured possession. His embrace tightened just enough to draw you closer to him. It was easy to tilt your head to give him more access to your neck. The way his lips played across your skin was so tender and soft, you sighed in satisfaction just from his kisses. Instinctively, your hands went to his shoulders, pulling him towards you, encouraging him to keep going further.

You could hear Simeon typing on the other side of the room; the usually distracting sound of the keyboard was negligible compared to the sound of Lucifer’s breathing so close to you. His teeth nipped the shell of your ear and you shied away out of habit. He chuckled softly, licking your skin and humming in approval at your reactions.

You weren’t sure how someone so suave was allowed to exist. He was barely doing anything and you were absolute putty in his hands within an hour of meeting him. He had been completely correct, there was no need to pretend you liked one another. The innate attraction was there, all you needed to do was react to his lead. “Lucifer...” you breathed, testing how it felt to have his name fall from your lips.

The verdict? It felt right.

Lucifer glanced over to where Simeon sat, catching the heated glare that was fixed on him. He couldn’t help but beam in self-satisfaction, knowing that the angel very much wished to be the one in the scene and not him. He turned his attention back to you, eliciting more breathy moans out of you. He said he was going to help with the scene; he never said anything about being mindful of relationship between you and Simeon.

“I like those noises you make. Make some more.” He demanded, slipping his hand under your blouse to finally get a handful of your skin. His touch left a trail of fire across your nerves. It felt like it had been years since you were last this close to anyone; it only made you more receptive of anything he did to you.

Lucifer was meticulous in his ministrations. He made sure to take his time exploring you with his hands and lips before moving onto the next step. It was almost torture how slow he was taking it. By the time he worked the first button off of your blouse, you were ready to rip his shirt off him.

“Kiss...” Simeon said from his seat. His voice curt and short as if he was directing a scene from a movie. “Kiss her before you do anything else.”

Lucifer was quick to comply. He had been hesitant in claiming your lips with his own, but with the approval of Simeon, he lost no time in taking your breath away. With one hand at the back of your head to keep you steady, his lips brushed against your own, seeking tentative permission before he went further. The warmth of his body enveloping you so gently made you melt and accept his kisses eagerly. His tongue traced your lips before delving into your mouth, tasting you for the time.

You moaned, breathing deeply through your nose as he overwhelmed all your senses with just his lips and tongue. While one hand held your head firmly in place for him, his free hand caressed your cheeks, your neck and your collarbone. While he swallowed all the pretty little noises that came from the back of your throat, he continued to work off the buttons of your blouse. Your clutched onto his shirt, unable to break the kiss even if you felt your head spin from lack of oxygen.

By the time all the buttons of your blouse had come undone, you were a breathless, whimpering wreck for him. He pulled away and admired just how swollen your lips had become from all the kisses. “Beautiful.” he praised, making your whole body heat up from the simple compliment. “Think you can help me out of these clothes? It’s gotten pretty warm in here.”

He didn’t have to ask you twice to help him. As much as you wanted to savor the moment and really draw out the intimacy between the two of you; you were also desperate to see what he looked like under that dress shirt. You licked your lips at every inch of skin you exposed, your eyes glittered with glee as you uncovered his chest and abs.

As soon as his shirt was completely open, he went back to exploring your body with his lips. His kisses trailed down your neck, to your chest and right to the outline of your bra. “Ah, silly undergarments… They always get in the way of fun.” In one swift motion, he slid his hands under your bra, freeing your breasts and also divesting you of your top along with it as it went over your head and arms. For a second, you felt distinctly vulnerable under his gaze and moved to cover yourself, but his hands kept your arms at your side.

You squirmed under his touch, your brain completely blank as he lavished you with attention. Lucifer noticed the freshly healed cuts on your skin and made sure to give them extra affection. He did it partially to stay in character, but mostly to spite Simeon who was definitely fixated on the scene he orchestrated. He was getting too much enjoyment out of pulling the most lewd sounds from you all the while the angel watched, unable to participate. The control he had over the both of you was absolutely exhilarating and turned him on more than the kisses and fondling.

Lucifer pushed you to lay on the couch, settling himself between your legs and hovering over you. The opened ends of his shirt tickling your sides briefly before he leaned in and took your nipple into his mouth. His tongue laved at the sensitive skin, coaxing it into a perky little bud before moving onto your other breast and doing the same. By the time he was done with that task, you were sure that the knee he had pressed up against your crotch could feel just how wet you had gotten.

Looking down between the two of you, you were grateful to see he wasn’t completely immune to the scenario. The impressive bulge in his pants at least proved to you he was enjoying this as much as you were. Pulling him into another searing hot kiss, you tugged at his hair, rolling your hips against him. You didn’t care that Simeon was watching, with Lucifer, you could get what he would never give you. “Fuck me.” you whispered, barely believing you were making such a demand.

“With pleasure.”

The rest of your clothes came off in record time. The need for a release was almost unbearable. Just seeing Lucifer’s cock spring out of his boxers made your mouth water. You were more than happy to spread your legs for him, giving him all the access in the world to seat himself in you.

But, it seemed he had a different idea for you. Turning you to face Simeon on the other side of the room, he pulled you up to your knees and slid into you from behind, groaning as your cunt greedily accepted every inch of him with no resistance. “Let’s give him something to write about.” he suggested right before making you see stars with his cock.

Being filled with an actual dick and not a toy was an experience you had missed so much. There was nothing better than the warmth and the feel of a real cock sliding in and out of you. Toys could only simulate so much, nothing could compare to what Lucifer was giving you. “Oh… fuck.” You gasped, leaning against his chest for support.

His hand grabbed your hair, pulling you flush against him as he rammed his whole length into you over and over again. His breathing hitching every time you squeezed around his cock. “Oh yeah, that’s a good girl.” he praised. “Look at how hot and bothered he is.” Lucifer brought your attention to the author across the room. His fingers frozen across the screen as his eyes were glued to the scene you were creating with his friend.

You didn’t want to look, but everything Lucifer said was a command you could not disobey. Glancing over, you were blessed with the image of Simeon, blankly staring at what you were doing. His expression completely unreadable, but his eyes were dark from just how blown out his irises were. His hands that were supposed to be on the keyboard stroked his clothed cock in time with every one of Lucifer’s strokes.

The feeling of shame washed over you as you saw just how pitiful Simeon seemed so distant from the two of you. His heated gaze was fixated on the spot where Lucifer and you were so intimately joined. Lucifer continued on railing into you, his hand wrapped around your waist and teased your clit, drawing you closer and closer to your climax. You couldn’t even think about the guilt you felt in your gut as Simeon was forced to observe you. All you could focus on was just how good Lucifer was with his cock and how close you were to coming undone.

“Think we should let him join us?” Lucifer’s voice was like the devil on your shoulder, voicing all the things you couldn’t say out of embarrassment. “He’s always been bad at saying what he wants.”

You didn’t have time to respond as all the pleasure came to a screeching halt. Just as you felt like you were going to cum, Lucifer pulled out of you, making you whine and whimper in need. “I… what… I...”

The smile he gave you was soft, but the emotion didn’t reach his eyes. There was a devious glint in them while he waited for you to compose yourself.

“What? Why did you stop? What happened?” Simeon busied himself with sitting up straight again, hunching over his computer as if he hadn’t just been stroking himself to what was in front of him.

“I got bored.” Lucifer stated plainly, getting up and leading you over to the author who was furiously typing away, trying to the capture the scene he just witnessed. “I thought you might like to join in the fun...”

“That… that wasn’t the agreement.”

“I’m bending the rules a little.” Lucifer shrugged and gently pushed you down on your knees in front of Simeon. You crawled under the folding table he set up as a makeshift desk. It was a snug fit, but not entirely too uncomfortable. “I’m sure we can all benefit from a little more fun, right?” He laced his hand into your hair and gently, but firmly pushed you towards Simeon’s bulge.

You didn’t even need any encouragement to start working on freeing Simeon’s cock from the confines of his pants. The man above you couldn’t protest, the need to feel you and the need for release overriding his scruples he had worked so hard to maintain. “I… You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to.” You said firmly, licking your lips when you got your hands around his length and pulled it out, giving it an experimental pump. With just that simple touch, Simeon hissed and rolled his hips up to meet your hand. “And it looks like you want to, as well.”

“Let’s see what that pretty mouth of yours can do.” Lucifer encouraged from behind you. “If you do a good job, I’ll make sure to finish what I started.”

You were more than eager to wrap your lips around the tip of Simeon’s cock, licking and swirling your tongue around the tip. Your hand pumping the length of his cock you couldn’t fit in your mouth just yet. Simeon’s moan encouraged you to keep going, taking more of him into you until he hit the back of your throat. Lucifer’s hand in your hair was soon replaced with Simeon’s as he held onto you, setting the pace as your head bobbed up and down his cock.

You moaned into his dick, sending vibrations down his length and making him shiver. His grip in your hair tightened and he pushed your head further down his cock, wanting you to take all of him. With a bit of an initial struggle to suppress your gag reflex, you relaxed enough to take every inch of him with just a little coaxing. Soon enough, your nose brushed against his coarse pubic hairs every time he made a full pass down your throat.

“Amazing...” Lucifer breathed, lining himself behind you to enter you again. Just watching Simeon fuck your mouth had heightened the sexual tension in the room into something palpable. He timed himself to enter you at the same time Simeon was at his deepest down your throat. “Time for your reward.”

Your screams of pleasure were muffled by Simeon’s cock being stuffed into your mouth. Lucifer taking your cunt again made you nearly lose consciousness for a second. Simeon’s grip in your hair became almost painful as the two of them worked in tandem to fuck you senseless.

It felt like there was an unsaid agreement the moment the two of them started to move. As soon as Lucifer pulled out of you until just the tip of his cock remained in your pussy, Simeon would be fully seated down your throat. The moment Simeon’s dick slid out of your mouth just enough to give you a chance to breathe, Lucifer would ram his whole length back into you, making you forget to take a full breath before the cycle continued once again.

It was a dizzying experience and the orgasm that had been abated for the time being built itself back up to be something explosive. The two of them played your body like a toy meant for their pleasure. All your holes were meant to please them; and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Lucifer’s fingers once again found your clit, bringing you right up to the edge within a few passes of his digits across the sensitive nub.

“Cum for me, beautiful...”

His voice was magical, pushing you right across the threshold into your climax. You moaned into Simeon’s cock, causing him to also unload his cum down your throat. Even if it was hard to breathe, the lack of oxygen only seemed to enhance the high you had been brought to. Lucifer only needed to thrust into you a few more times before his own pace stuttered and he came, releasing his hot seed into you and completing the euphoric feeling of climaxing.

Simeon was the first to regain his senses, carefully pulling out his spent cock from your mouth. Even if you did your best to swallow all of him, some of his cum mixed with your saliva and dribbled down the corner of your mouth to your chin. He carefully wiped away what he could with his thumb before pulling you in for a kiss.

“I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry… Please forgive me…” He begged in between kisses. He could taste himself on your lips, something he didn’t expect to enjoy as much as he did. With every kiss, the color returned to his world, the grays that permeated his every existence faded the more time he spent with you. Without you, he wasn’t himself anymore; that much he learned.

Ah. So this is what forgiveness feels like...

Lucifer pulled out of you once he softened enough to do so. He was about to say something rather snide, but he also didn’t want to ruin the moment of reconciliation between the two of you. So, he decided to save it for later. He waited patiently for you to reassure him everything was going to be all right before speaking up.

“So, you think you got the scene?”

“Yeah… I think we got it. Do you think we can make the deadline?”

You looked up at him, feeling satisfied and elated in a way you hadn’t felt in so long. “Do you trust me?”

“I do.”

[uwua3]

Hi! I love your writing! Can you do headcanons for childhood sweethearts with Misumi?

summary: misumi’s life was split into two acts—before and after his grandfather’s death

warnings: angst, family death, lying, memory loss, mentions of physical abuse, open–ended, running away, trespassing, unhealthy parental relationships

author’s note: this is somewhat childhood sweethearts but not the right time :) please enjoy this angst(?) and i hope to make you proud!

word count: 4,500

music: older brother’s theme (fall, then rise again) – shalfi

14.

🌻⚠️ ikaruga misumi

misumi couldn’t remember anything before he was 14 years old

it was as if his life was split into two acts: before his grandfather’s death versus now, after hakkaku tragically died

he knew his grandfather had to have a spare copy of his life’s script somewhere, perhaps hidden underneath his stacks of original works carefully stashed away in his office. was it folded into those paper airplanes he took the time to make? maybe, preserved within a dusty folder alphabetically organized within his filing cabinet

he just wanted to see one picture, of his grandfather’s smiling face towards the camera and hear all the fond stories about mankai and acting and what it meant to live your dream with your best friends. if he was lucky, maybe watch a clip of his favorite troupe acting while his grandfather wrote in the waiting lobby with scribbles on an old notepad

all misumi had to go was go back. was that too much to ask for?

but, he wasn’t allowed to come back, not anymore now that his parents were alive

misumi forgot who he was before hakkaku’s untimely death; he wasn’t anyone except his grandfather’s little boy and that was more than enough for him

now, he wasn’t anyone’s. just ikaruga misumi, the neglected son that didn’t exist to the public eye

misumi was 14 when he forgot what it was like to be happy

but, misumi was also 14 when he also stopped seeing you anymore

you were misumi’s childhood best friend who he met through his grandfather. you were the next door neighbor who didn’t judge him for his irregularities and soon enough, you two spent your years playing at hakkaku’s home after school

(“let’s get married, sumi!” you giggled, falling back onto the grass as the sun shined upon your happy faces. misumi didn’t think anything of it, taking your hand as he laid next to you and turned his head towards his best friend. “kay~ only if you make me onigiri!”)

(you paused to contemplate the deal before nodding, determined. “i’ll make you onigiri, let’s marry when we’re old then!” you were certain you could learn and misumi giddily cheered, kicking his legs with his sudden energy. “i’ll wait, then!”)

yet after his grandfather’s death, slowly but surely, misumi’s memory of you faded into nothing. days went by where misumi tried searching his brain after feeling like something was missing, but the process of grief took a toll on his mental state. he felt like there wasn’t any closure despite attending the funeral—what, or who, was missing?

after hakkaku passed, there was no one left to stop his parents from controlling every aspect of his life

from how he acted in public around other children to what he did every minute of the day outside of the house, any part of misumi’s rare freedom he treasured with his grandfather was taken away for the worse

this meant misumi wasn’t allowed to especially communicate with anyone outside of the pre–approved social circle (aka, no one)

it was a trap. all to gaslight misumi into believing his parents’ manipulative behavior came from how much they loved him

it wasn’t their fault, it couldn’t be. they wanted the best, even if it was at his own sacrifice. how could they, his parents, the people who were meant to love him, mean to do this?

they loved him, because if they didn’t, who else would?

misumi only knew one thing from his hazy past: hakkaku loved theatre. acting was his calling, it’s what made his grandfather smile the biggest even until his dying days

so misumi acted. he put on a smile everyday just like his hakkaku (he hoped his grandfather was looking down on him with that same smile)

misumi grew up to the family disgrace, no matter how hard he tried to fit in. he always stood out, wasn’t the same as the other perfect model students at the top of the class

other boys spoke when asked, had a polite tone constantly, rose their hand properly with the elegance of a crown prince. misumi could never sit still, was always called out for bouncing his leg or tapping his pen rapidly against the desk too much

everything misumi did was too loud; he drew attention to himself even if he desperately tried to look the part of a heir to a business legacy family

every time the rumors got a bit too much, he’d arrive home to both his parents sitting at the kitchen table and he knew what he had to do

they called it trainings, but it really felt like an excuse to punish him for not being like his younger brother, madoka

one day, it was a particularly hard session of training. misumi’s legs wobbled even as he ran as fast as he could, feeling the sting of his mother’s slap upon his cheek as tears threatened to fall. it was raining so loud, the droplets smacked against the ground and covered evidence of his leather shoes against the pavement

he was about 16 when he found himself at hakkaku’s house after all this time, at the entrance of the gate with his fists clenched and breath uneven as he skidded to a stop

misumi was about to scream at the top of his lungs, even if it meant risking being seen, before he noticed something in the midst of the haze

a drenched figure staring back at him with wide eyes

misumi paused, the ambush of the storm filling the space between you two as thunder sounded in the distance. you didn’t say a word, just at the bottom steps of the door past the gate

how did you make it in? did you jump it? misumi backed away to take in the full height of the gate and back at you, he nearly didn’t believe it until you sprinted full speed at the metal

“wait—!” misumi yelled over the rain, reaching his hand out to signal you to stop but you gripped the bars and propelled yourself with ease

he swore everything felt like it was in slow motion. the raindrops seemed to freeze midair when misumi’s eyes caught yours, even if it seemed like you were attempting to ignore his sharp gaze

that feeling of missing something came back again, but stronger than ever

time sped up quickly. you landed beside him with a thud even on the slippery mud. you didn’t spare him another glance, just moved to run. he didn’t stop you

misumi watched you leave after trespassing, standing in the rain as your shadow turned the corner

why didn’t he stop you? you were a stranger trespassing onto his dead grandfather’s property but why...

why did it feel like he knew you?

misumi stared after you, barely feeling the buzz of his phone in his back pocket as he pulled it out blankly, knowing it was his father

he picked up and didn’t even flinch at the sound of cursing anymore, just obediently said he’d come home without looking away

“i’m sorry father, it’s my fault, i know.”

misumi was 17 the next time he went to hakkaku’s home

there was no particular reason why. unlike last time where he arrived suddenly, it was like something was calling him this time. an instinct in his conscious was pulling him towards the abandoned house

this time, he was taller, a year older now, but still as outcasted as before. he skipped school just based on a gut feeling, his uniform not ironed like the other boys in his class

misumi sprinted faster, feeling the blood rush through his head as he barely managed to breathe from trying to release his energy. of course, he’d never be like the son his parents wanted so much

the long grass beneath his creased shoes indicated how long it had been since he had visited, the unmowed lawn extending into the road as misumi inhaled in the still atmostphere

the birds chirped in the background, the new day setting in as the calming blue sky passed by with distant clouds. the morning dew was still present and misumi knew his grandfather would’ve been reading the paper by now

misumi stopped by the gate again, closer this time as his fingers brushed the bars. he took in the way he used to pull the barricade open just to see his favorite man in the world, now it was locked and kept away from the public

a deep breath in and out. panting slightly, misumi closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the gate, embracing the cold chill of the metal upon his skin

misumi was about to turn away and hurry back to school to avoid a serious lecture again before he sensed something, or someone

a hesitant footstep in the grass confirmed his suspicions when he quickly whipped around and came face to face with a familiar figure

it was you! the person from last year!

misumi didn’t know how he knew because you looked different, too. you had on a school uniform as well, but a cheaper, less well–known one compared to his

(he didn’t recognize it, his parents didn’t let him interact with anyone outside of his private academy, anyways)

you were just as surprised, maybe even a bit scared this time, as you took a step back

misumi gripped the gate subconsciously, as he looked down at you. suddenly, he remembered who he was and what family he belonged (or wanted to belong) to. he automatically straightened his posture, standing tall like his parents taught him to

“who are you?” misumi asked, forcing his voice to come out colder than he intended. you winced at the question for some reason, turning your head to look at the wildflowers instead

you seemed to think before lifting your stare to the blue, clear horizon. your voice rang out and it felt like something misumi heard before

“a friend.”

silence. then, misumi sighed, his shoulders dropping and the tension bleeding out of his body when he realized you didn’t particularly care for the meticulous act he was meant to star in

you visibly relaxed when misumi let go of the gate, instead he slouched a bit as he put his hands in his pockets. you noticed how he rocked back and forth on the heels of his shoes despite the obvious price of them

putting his hand out for you to shake, he bit his tongue, automatically about to share his last name before refraining, knowing it wasn’t his to begin with

“my name’s misumi.”

you hesitated as well, but he didn’t know why. you appeared to already know his name as you carefully took his hand, seemingly debating something before sighing softly

you said a name that you’ve never gone by before, and before he could say anything, you smiled

“misumi... means triangle, right?”

misumi didn’t question a thing, just grinned genuinely for once and he looked much, much younger

there were some things left unsaid in this sudden and unusual friendship. misumi didn’t ask who you were to hakkaku, or why you were here in the first place, just accepted you had experience jumping over fences and trespassing

you didn’t ask misumi anything because you knew who he was. to the world, ikaruga misumi was a confusing teenager who didn’t belong to his prestigious family. to you, an acquaintance, misumi was the boy that was the reason you visited this home in the first place

it was something like a fever dream when you saw misumi again those years ago. you almost didn’t recognize his stylish trendy haircut you knew his parents forced him to have, the tight fitting uniform he must’ve hated for how constraining it was, or the polished dress shoes made of the finest imported leather

but you knew it was him when you noticed the loose tie with the triangle base prominent, the triangular–shaped handkerchief tucked into his breast pocket neatly with a creative pattern you knew he bought himself, the bright neon socks peeking out from underneath his classic straight leg pants

misumi grew up but he was still the little boy you played with at hakkaku’s residence, he just forgot about anything that made him happy before that

so when you ran away that day, you regretted it. you turned on your heel just to see an empty road where he used to stand, and the downpour was heavier by that hour. you were too late, you had missed him again

until when you were both 17. it was that day where you forged a new identity at the place that defined your childhood

you and misumi scheduled to meet at least every week, sometimes more if misumi’s family life was beginning to get to him (he didn’t have to say it, you already knew just based on his appearance alone)

you’d both hop the gate and rest together at the front porch regardless of weather, hiding from the rest of the world and forming a friendship again after years apart

to you, misumi wasn’t ikaruga heir to the family fortune and business with an eccentric flair and broken, fragmented past. he was the boy who really looked up to his grandfather, folded paper airplanes in a split second, and transformed himself into anything with a mold to please the people he loved

this meant he was willing to be anyone anybody needed at any time because he simply could, even at his own sacrifice

you were still 17 when misumi helped you over the gate even if you didn’t need it and decided to break in. it was sunny with the afternoon coming in, golden hour casting both your shadows across the landscape

“do you ever miss your grandfather?” you asked quietly, breaking the comfortable silence that always remained between you two. misumi helped you land on the ground, carefully releasing your hand and letting out a contemplative sound

he pushed his hands in his academy blazer pockets, almost pulling them out abruptly before remembering it was just you. despite the short time knowing you (or so he thought), he was oddly comforted by your presence and let himself slouch just slightly

“every day...” misumi started, his tone heavier than usual. you stopped walking beside him to listen and he followed suit, turning his body towards you but his gaze set on the warm silhouette of hakkaku’s home

“i hope gramps is watching me right now.” misumi mumbled, seemingly lost in thought before you ignored your own irregular heartbeat and smiled, tilting your head to catch his distant eyes

“do you want to go inside?” you carefully offered, unsure of his answer. misumi didn’t react, just continued staring at the moving shadow of the house before he nodded, as if unaware of his own subconscious decision

“i’m here for you, okay?” you said, holding your hand out for some reason. misumi took it without thinking and you fought back the surprised blush on your face, instead taking the lead and avoiding his considerate expression

“you feel... familiar?” misumi commented out of no where, and you laughed

“you too.”

misumi didn’t ask anything else, he knew his place. just helped you open the lock upon one of the windows he knew like the back of his hand (it was ingrained in his body, even if he didn’t exactly remember the fine details)

(when you came inside, you and misumi didn’t notice the framed picture hung by the entrance of you and misumi in hakkaku’s arms)

from that point on, you and misumi allowed yourselves to be surrounded by hakkaku’s creations as a way to cope with his inevitable death

at first, it was a silent way of mourning. you and misumi didn’t discuss your connections to hakkaku, the satisfaction of knowing you could share your pain was enough. but after gathering the courage to enter the home, you two became more open and honest with each other about how important misumi’s grandfather was

yet, you fabricated a web of lies in order to maintain your secrecy, pretending like all you did was live besides hakku or something else minor. misumi didn’t question it, he didn’t ask for much and was content with your company even if he rarely and silently questioned your truthfulness

during your time together, you’d take your time exploring each room over a span of months after overcoming the obstacle of invading a dead man’s privacy. it wasn’t much, just standing in the middle of rooms misumi barely remembered and running his fingers over the dusty surfaces

it was like he didn’t have it in him to find out who he was before his grandfather’s death anymore

you were both 18 when misumi decided to look through his grandfather’s office

“i’m ready!” misumi proudly exclaimed, his energy infectious and feet tapping against the hardwood floor. after a year, he had allowed himself to express his loud and odd personality without putting on an act of who his parents wanted him to be (living a double life was exhausting, but being himself with you was worth it)

(you understood, somewhat)

you smiled, giving him a big high five to return his energy but feeling your heart drop to your stomach. it was selfish, you know, but you almost didn’t want him to. if he found all those old scripts you and him wrote together, the awful calligraphy from your childhood years, the photo albums hakkaku liked having of his best kids—

you didn’t have the heart to tell him “no”. you trailed behind misumi as he took a moment to rest his hand upon the screen before pushing it aside, revealing the aged and undisturbed office that belonged to mankai’s first playwright

misumi took a step in and stopped, his breath hitching in his throat as his eyes darted from every corner of the room. you hesitated behind him, your shaking hand hovering over his shoulder before dropping it to your side. misumi spun around, a big grin on his face and you couldn’t help but smile, too

(even if reliving the memories he couldn’t remember hurt)

“i just know gramps must’ve worked here.” misumi mumbled in wonder, amazement even, as he let out a “wow” at the stacks of folders and cabinets with hundreds of bindings. you nodded, unable to find the voice to speak, treasuring the way his eyes shined just like before

“i wish we could’ve been here together with him.” misumi mentioned and you stifled a sound of regret in your throat. you wish you just told him who you really were, that you were his best friend of long ago, that you would always be his friend

but, you didn’t

you smiled, and nodded

“me too.”

from then on, you relived all those years acting out various scripts even though he was your only audience. growing up, you had the maturity to recognize how talented and powerful hakkaku’s writing was, and how every heroic role was created for misumi

(you particularly remembered a script hakkaku penned when he whispered to you that the bold, eccentric, one–of–a–kind protagonist was based on misumi. so when misumi found a copy, you told him the secret and you had never seen him happier)

piece by piece, misumi began unlocking parts of his childhood memory. blurred events became clearer with specific details of the rooms he explored—except one

a person? something, or someone, was constantly a blank figure at the back of his mind. every happy important memory he shared was with someone besides hakku, but he couldn’t remember who or why

sometimes, if you said a line a specific way, or struck a dramatic childish pose with a laugh, misumi’s eyes lit up in recognition. he’d take a second to look over you with a troubled furrow of his eyebrows, as if he was sure he knew you from somewhere

“are you sure we don’t know each other?”

“i’d never forget a boy like you, sumi!”

“you’re right! i’d never forget you, either!”

you were both trying your best to move on from the untimely death of your greatest mentor and parental figure. as long as you two had each other and hakkaku’s home, it would be okay

but, you and misumi were 18 when his parents found out about everything

it was the night after high school graduation. you and misumi laid on the mat floor of his grandfather’s work office, staring up at the open windows to the dark night sky. between you was an open bento box you packed for both of you, a favorite you were satisfied to discover hadn’t changed: onigiri

he was still wearing his satin robes and his cap was left abandoned by his side, the previously tight tie now barely looped around his neck and gel dried in his slicked back hair. with you, he let himself be the messier, less responsible version his parents reprimanded him for

(you seemed to like him regardless and he didn’t know it, but he liked you, too)

misumi bit into his onigiri, trying to compliment you with his mouth open as he giggled behind his hand. you never thought you’d be here again—sharing a homemade meal with a friend who came back into your life

you laid your arms behind your head, turning it to see misumi was already staring at you. you waited for him to continue rambling about his day, the rush of finally leaving his stifling academy, but misumi didn’t say anything

until, he smiled

“how did you know onigiri was my favorite?”

then, you felt a pang of guilt. it had been a few years of lying, even if everything else was true. somehow, that second name became a part of who you are, but you knew it was still wrong

the truth you wanted to confess was right at the tip of your tongue. the silence was eating away at you, and like always, misumi could tell if something was on your mind

“are you okay? here, have onigiri!” misumi smiled, holding out food without any care in the world. you paused, blinking

the moonlight illuminated his silver blue hair, making him glow even more as the amber hues of his eyes made your breath hitch. you could see the stars in his presence and before you knew it, you admitted your truth

“i‘ve loved you ever since we were 14.”

“what do you mean? we didn’t know each other before gramp’s death—”

misumi was cut off by a car door slam. when you heard the wheels stop, it’s like both of you knew

without wasting a moment, misumi grabbed your arm and pulled you to the dark corner of the room. your figures passed by the walls quickly as you pressed your back against his chest, trying to stifle your rapid breath in the shadows

you cursed under your breath, crouching behind the height of the desk as misumi’s arm around your waist held you back. you could hear their hushed voices around you; you thanked whoever was listening for misumi’s high athletic ability to launch both of you out of sight

“how do you think they found us?” you murmured, shutting your eyes with a gulp, trying to ignore the situation for as long as possible. misumi looked around, attempting to pinpoint the footsteps

“i... i don’t know.” misumi responded quietly, sounding defeated and solemn for once. you could physically feel him retracting back into his shell, putting on his mask to hide his true feelings

“misumi! you are coming home right now!” misumi’s mother shrieked, startling both of you to the core as misumi inhaled sharply. you knew what would happen if his parents found out. you started pushing him towards the window, muttering a “go, go!”

you knew if misumi was caught, he wouldn’t survive the brutality of his pathetic excuse of a family

“climb onto the roof.” you ordered, not giving him time to refuse. you knew he had the physical capability to do it and he knew it, too. as misumi pulled himself up with a flip into the roof shackles, you stood at the window anxiously as the footsteps got louder and louder

“come on, i got you.” misumi whispered, holding his hand out to you. you didn’t take it just yet, reaching into your pocket to place something in his palm, putting your other hand above his for a moment

(the gold of the triangular earring glinted in the moonlight. it was almost your way of fulfilling that marriage pact all those years ago, even if he didn’t remember)

“i love you, we’ll see each other again.” you promised even if there wasn’t nothing to guarantee it. before misumi could ask why, you let go at the sound of the screen door slamming open

you let yourself witness the moon for a last moment of peace, before turning around and confronting the parents you never thought you’d see again

they said your name and you winced, hearing a slight disturbance above you. you knew he knew, and sighed but remained standing your ground

“i’m sorry.” you whispered, much to the confusion of the ikaruga parents. but, you hoped he heard your overdue apology

“we thought we told you to stop seeing him.” his father said at the entrance, making you laugh with no humor whatsoever. you glanced at the half–eaten onigiri discarded on the floor, wishing you could go back to that time minutes ago

“he isn’t here.” you lied, knowing damn well the scuttle across the roof and noisier bristle of the trees was the last time you’d see him for a long time

hakkaku’s home became nothing more than sold property. not even a week later, the ikaruga family employed businesses to sort out the furniture and clear out the rooms. nothing was left that symbolized it was you and misumi’s safe space

but, misumi... it was like he was gone. if the ikaruga household was a professional family portrait, misumi’s figure would’ve faded into the background and disappeared for good. you knew he must’ve ran away, for the sake of himself and his disappointed family

(“i’ve always let my parents down... i’m not a good brother, he doesn’t like me.” misumi admitted one day after you found him in his grandfather’s office, curled up in the same chair hakkaku used to sit in. you simply folded a paper airplane with an encouraging message, throwing it towards his lap. the teary smile was worth the precise lines)

you didn’t see misumi anymore, and you couldn’t believe it. for some reason, you didn’t expect to lose him a second time

but when you reached up to your ear and knew that triangle earring was with him, you tried to move on. but, this time, alone

who knows? maybe, you’d see him again. you waited since you were both 14, you could wait again

[doomedandstoned]

Spelljammer Reveal Trippy New Vid, Talk ‘Abyssal Trip’

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

Interview by Billy Goate

Cover Art by Aaron Cahill

Our week of big interviews continues as we meet up with the ethereal doom outfit from Stockholm SPELLJAMMER and premiere a new music video, from their just released second LP, dropped only weeks ago on RidingEasy Records and now the number one album on the Doom Charts.

'Abyssal Trip' (2021) is an enthralling listen from edge to center, with lavish textures, deep thematic content, and unforgettably emotive atmosphere that will stick with you for life. Enjoy it as you read the revealing conversation with Niklas Olsson (guitar, vox) and Robert Sörling (guitar) that follows as we unpack their steller new spin, talk nerdy gear shit, and contemplate humanity's fate.

And now, Doomed & Stoned is pleased to bring you the world premiere of the brand new video for that epic third track, "Among The Holy."

Give ear...

Spelljammer - Among The Holy (music video)

You guys have been a band now for damn near 15 years, maybe longer. Most bands don't make it past two years! What is the "key" to the band staying together for so long and continuing to find inspiration for creating new music?

Rob: I don’t think it’s been 15 years just yet but we are getting there, haha. None the less - that’s a really interesting question! Nik and I started the band much because we share the same taste in music, film and, well, art in general. I think that's the core keeping it all together. Also, there have been a few constellations of band members over the years, all with their own dynamic. I think these kinds of changes, and the new directions of the music because of that, is part of the inspiration. Maybe another reason is that we all live in different cities and because of that sometimes a lot of time passes between rehearsals, writing sessions and such, making us always craving for new Spelljammer jams and songs.

Nik: The craving yes. And another reason I think is the fact that we’ve never really been in a rush to get anywhere. Anything Spelljammer, the music included, takes time. If we had been set on making it, this thing probably would have fallen apart a long time ago.

Abyssal Trip by Spelljammer

How did the theme for Abyssal Trip originate?

Nik: I have always been more drawn to the feelings or emotions you get from a riff or piece of music than to any theme of a lyric. But I would say that any themes came in at the lyrics state, which is at the end of the process. But the themes aren’t that specific to any of the albums. I think I cast a pretty wide net in the beginning and stuck to it. For the next album perhaps we will venture more into unchartered waters. We’ll see.

What fascinates you about the Great Abyss of the ocean?

Nik: I totally get that the word abyss conjures up images of ocean trenches and, yes, the ocean is a fascinating and to a large extent undiscovered place. However, when I wrote that I wasn’t necessarily thinking of the ocean but more the abyss of our own minds. But I think it’s a word that evokes many things, like despair and doom, and it is of course totally open to interpretation.

Is mankind doomed or do we have time to correct our course?

Nik: I’m not as pessimistic of a person as the lyrics may suggest. I think we will be here on earth for a long time. Mankind is clever (perhaps too clever for her own good) even if there are a lot of people hell-bent on trying to screw up everything for everybody else.

Rob: Yes, and considering how ignorant and careless (some) people are acting during this pandemic, at least over here, makes you wonder if there’s any hope at all.

Nik: People are the worst. Ultimately, though, none of it matters because we’re all doomed.

Have you guys seen any good movies/documentaries or read any good books lately that inspired you or otherwise challenged your thinking about life, the present, or the future?

Rob: I can’t say that I’ve seen or read anything recently that challenged me significantly, I guess I’m getting too old to be that overwhelmed haha. The film A Ghost Story though was kind of cool though because it was different, slow and weird (in a good way), and for me it’s always inspiring to read/see/hear something that makes you think, "Man, I wish I had come up with that idea”.

Nik: Absolutely! Punch Drunk Love, Moon, and Office Space are definitely movies like that. I have watched so many movies and series through this pandemic and I can’t remember any of them right now. But I did just notice that there is a season 3 of Loudermilk on HBO! If you haven’t already, see it! I’m currently reading "Homeward Bound, The Life of Paul Simon” by Peter Ames Carlin. It’s a good read about one of my favorite musicians.

For recording this album, what kind of gear did you use and what production/engineering considerations did you have to take into account?

Rob: Since we did a remote recording in the countryside we had to use whatever stuff that we could fit into a couple of cars. I have a couple of old audio interfaces that I linked for a total of 16 channels. I also have a small collection of mics (nothing fancy) and we used them all and the rest was borrowed. We set up the drums in the living room and put the guitar and bass rigs as far away as we could (the adjacent rooms) to avoid bleed and just focused on getting the rhythm tracks done. The goal was to get us all in the same room and to catch the vibe from a relaxed rehearsal kind of situation. The bass rig used was a Orange Terror Bass and an Ampeg SVT 810 and the guitar was tracked through a Reval Mark I and/or Orange TH-100 and a Orange PPC 412. Of course there’s always some unforeseen problem lurking and this time it was the electricity in the old country house.

Nik: I don’t use many effects, just a fuzz. For this one I used a Supercollider from Earthbound Audio. It is exactly what the name suggests. That’s all you need really.

The album cover is amazing! It reminds me, in some strange way, of the creature in the old B-movie Robot Monster (1953). What's the story behind the artwork?

Nik: It definitely has a B-movie vibe that I really like. I’m afraid I can’t really tell you much about it other than the artist name is Aaron Cahill and you can find his stuff on Instagram under the name nghbrs.

I filmed your first US appearance at Psycho Las Vegas in 2016. Fans want to know: do you have ambitions of returning to North America once the world sorts out this pandemic?

Rob: Yes, that’s our first and only US appearance so far and we wouldn’t mind at all returning to Vegas or any other part of the US. For now it’s really hard making any plans at all. In fact, you would think that this kind of isolation would enhance creativity, and maybe for some it does, but for us it’s actually been the most unproductive period so far for Spelljammer. So I’m hoping that by the time this thing blows over we get the inspiration back both for writing/recording new music, and in time hopefully revisiting the US!

Nik: I agree, playing at Psycho Las Vegas was a blast. I hope we get another opportunity to come back some day.

Spelljammer at Psycho Las Vegas/a>

Some Buzz

“The vastness of everything is something that I think about a lot,” says Spelljammer bassist/vocalist Niklas Olsson. And it certainly shows in both the expansive, sludgy sounds and contemplative lyrics of the Stockholm, Sweden based trio. Following a 5-year break between their previous album, Ancient of Days — perhaps fittingly spent pondering said vastness — Spelljammer is back with an album that perfectly bridges the band’s earlier desert rock leanings and their later massive, slow-burning riffs.

'Abyssal Trip' (note: carefully reread that album title) takes its moniker from the perpetually dark, cold, oxygen-free zone at the bottom of the ocean. The 6-song, 44-minute album fittingly embodies that bleak realm with rumbling, oozing guitars intercut with dramatic melodic interludes. The songs take their time to unfurl, making them even more hypnotic. Likewise, the lyrics take a poetic approach to establishing the sonic scenery.

“The lyrical themes we address, like the ultimate doom of man, and the search and longing for new and better worlds, are still there,” Olsson says. “The concept of something undiscovered out there in vast emptiness is pretty much always present.”

The recording process for Abyssal Trip differs from previous releases in that the band — guitarist Robert Sörling, drummer Jonatan Rimsbo and Olsson — opted to capture the performances while holed up in the mental bathysphere of a house in the countryside near Stockholm. “The songs benefitted from the relaxed environment of being away from everything,” Olsson explains. Indeed, the album sounds confident and meticulously arranged, afforded by the band’s isolation. Sörling mixed the album and it was mastered by Monolord drummer Esben Willems at Berserk Audio.

Album opener “Bellwether” begins dramatically with a very slow, nearly minute-long fade in of rumbling distortion setting the stage for heavily distorted bass and guitar plucking out the lugubrious riff for another minute and a half before the drums begin, and likewise equally as long before vocals gurgle to the surface. “Lake” abruptly shifts gears, opening with an unusually fast gallop before rupturing into thundering doom that soon drops into a clean-tone Middle Eastern melodic breakdown.

The title track serves as the album centerpiece, opening with ominous film dialogue about blood sacrifice that launches into pummeling, detuned guitars rumbling over gut-punching drums and howling vocals hearkening to the proto-sludge of Pink Floyd’s “The Nile Song.” The dynamic relents briefly for a slow building clean guitar melody before all instruments lock into a jerking riff topped off by a trilling Iommi style lead. Throughout, Abyssal Trip is, just like its title suggests, an epic tour through desolate zones which yields much to discover.

Follow The Band

Get Their Music

[jawritter]

You and Me..

Chapter 2

***SERIES WARNINGS**** Rape, non-con, male!rape, injury, violence, description of injury caused by rape, nightmares, self-harm, panic attacks, implied female non-con, language, ass hole Jensen, hurt!Jensen, dark fic, smut. If there is anything else I will add it as I go.

***Chapter Warnings*** This chapter is pretty light. Mentions of death of characters parents, Jensen is a little bit of an ass, language, that’s pretty much it. 

Word Count: 2057

Pairing: Jensen Ackles X Reader, Jared x reader, OFC Steve x Reader, OFC Justin x Reader.

A/N: When I originally wrote this chapter I didn’t even know who Steve Carlson was, so the Steve in this story isn’t him lol. Oddly enough I wrote this before I even really knew he was making an album lol. Anyway, all mistakes are mine, please don’t copy my work, Feedback is golden. If you want to be added to the series tag list, or my tag list just let me know! I hope you enjoy this one. After this chapter things tend to start to pick up a little.

Summary: It’s funny how one choice you made can change your whole life. One mistake can alter your course, and set you on a path that forever will haunt you. Two people find themselves getting through one of the hardest trials of Jensen’s life, on just one small promise. You and Me. We’ll get through it together…

Want more? Check out my Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***YOU AND ME MASTERLIST***

You woke up, much like you do every morning, with the alarm clock going off obnoxiously on your bedside table.  Mornings were never your thing, but the bills weren't going to pay themselves. You rub your face hard, trying to force your eyes to focus, and your body to stay awake even though it was putting up one hell of a fight. It wants sleep, and you so desperately want to give it just that.

Finally, after about 15 minutes you roll yourself over and stand up next to the bed, looking around your messy room. You had just moved back to Austin not all that long ago. You had always lived in Texas in one place or another, but just one family vacation to Austin when you were a teenager and you were in love with the city. So as soon as you graduated high school you wasted no time in putting your application in for the University of Texas.

Much to your surprise, and a few others, you were accepted. You had wanted to major in either writing or music. Everything went great for about the first semester. Your grades were good. You worked nights at a local bar, much like a lot of your classmates,  and spent your days in classes. You had new made friends, and you were finally starting to get your foothold in life. Well, that's what you thought anyway.

At the end of your first semester of college, your mother was diagnosed with stage 4 liver cancer. When your family called you moved back to your home town, dropping everything to be with your family. Your mother and you were very close. There was no way you were going to stay away while she fights this demon that they call cancer.

It was a long fight. Over and over again she defied the odds of the doctors and everyone around her. Still, after a long five-year battle she lost her fight with the disease. Once the funeral was over you knew it was way too late to go back to college. You had taken some online courses though, and gotten your degree in creative writing while you were at home taking care of your mother.

You and your father had never really gotten along, so staying home wasn't going to be an option. With all that in mind, you did the only thing you knew to do. You made the move back to Austin in the same month as your mother's funeral. Your father had over the years fallen into alcoholism. He'd always fought it, but after your mother's death, it only got the best of him. You weren’t going to stick around and watch him destroy himself.

Last year he straightened out a curve on the way home. He never survived the crash. Your brother had him cremated. He didn't even bother calling you, and telling you till it was all over. Your brother wasn't happy about you leaving home. He blamed you for your dad's struggle with the bottle after mom died, but that wasn't your fault. You didn't put a funnel in his mouth and make him drink. No one twisted his arm. He did it all on his own.

For the past three years, you had been renting an apartment in downtown Austin. It was a small, just a studio apartment, but it was all you needed. You had also landed a job at a small recording stupid in Austin. Even though you loved writing, and still did it on the side, you hadn't gotten your break yet. Music was your passion. It was what got you up in the morning, and helped you make it through the day. It was your therapy. Your outlet. Your escape from this shit existence that was your life.

You had slowly worked your way up In the studio. Starting with getting coffee, and cleaning behind the artist that came in to record. It didn't take long for Steve, your boss, to see that you had a good ear for music. He put you helping in the recording booth not long after you started.

Today you were informed that there would be a new local artist coming in to start his recording process and you were put on his beat. They didn't tell you his name, but they did say that you would probably recognize him. Even though he was local, he was famous, but they didn’t tell you who he was in order to keep rumors down the only one who knew who was coming was Steve. They made you swear not to tell anyone that he was recording, telling you that he wanted it to stay a secret until the album was done. That's why he chose a local recording studio instead of some big one in California.

As you walked to the studio this morning your nerves were vibrating. Justin, another sound tech that would be working with you today, greeted you at the door.

"You ready Y/N?" he asked, greeting you with a smile over his shoulder.

"Ready as I'll ever be," you tell him, putting your purse under the counter in the lockbox you all used and turning your phone on silent. No outside noises were ever allowed in the studio.

"Well I hate to put more on us than we already got, but there are two things you need to know before the artist gets here today. First, Jennifer, the girl that normally does the coffee, drinks, and whatever else the artist needs isn't going to be here today, her son has strep. Second, Steve will also be sitting in on today's session," he said, looking at you apologetically. 

You hated working with Steve. He was such a jerk when it came to recording time. He wanted everything done too quickly. Always in a rush to make a deadline instead of taking his time, and getting the best recording.

Jennifer being gone, and two other guys in the sound room with you means that you will most likely be stuck on snake detail for this artist, and whatever bunch of groupies he's bringing with him all day.

"Lovely,” you said with a sarcastic eye roll. Justin continued to look at you apologetically.  

“It's cool, let's just get this started. I'll get the recording room ready. How many are in his party today?" you asked, waiting for the answer that you dreaded the most.

"Only one other guy will be coming with him today from what I understand. Today is gonna be a lot of met and discuss. From what I understand there will be a guest singing on this album too. So it's probably a good thing Steve's gonna be here. If this guy is a prick then Steve can handle him." 

Justin's attitude toward the whole situation cracked you up. Apparently, he was just as excited about this as you were.

You walk into the recording room and begin to sit out beers, whiskey, water, and even start the coffee pot going in the break room. You walk back in the recording room and start sitting out shot glasses and other things when you heard voices coming your way. You look up in time to meet a pair of deep emerald green eyes staring back at you.

Your breath catches in your throat as you look around the room at all the men.

"I'm the only chick, great," you think to yourself, but there was something about the smirk on the man's face standing in front of you with the emerald green eyes that made your stomach do flips with a feeling you've never felt before.

He smiled at you and It nearly knocked you off your feet. Damn, this guy is gorgeous. That's when Steve decided to speak up.

"Y/N, this is Mr. Jensen Ackles, and his friend, Jared. Mr. Ackles has graciously chosen our stupid to record his debut album," Steve says, moving to stand beside Jensen.

You try to keep your jaw from hitting the floor as you take in the two actors standing in front of you. You had been a fan of Supernatural for years.

You nod at the two men. "It's nice to meet," you say, and they both smile back at you. Neither spoke, which you found odd. When you watched the con videos online they seemed so friendly.

"The room is ready, Steve," you tell your boss, then quickly as you can scamper into the sound room with Justin to wait for them to get started. 

You didn't really need to know what all they were doing. You just needed to make sure that whatever they were doing sounded good on tape.

"You alright Y/N?" Justin asks as you sit down in the chair with a huff.

"Yeah, That's Jensen freaking Ackles. I'm going to be working with Jensen freaking Ackles," you say in a state of shock.

"Easy girl, you know celebrities don't like to be fangirled all over," Justin says with a chuckle as he fires up the equipment and computers.

"I'm a professional Justin. I'm not going to fangirl all over anyone," you tell him with an eye roll. 

You watch as the men stand there and talk, pointing to different things. Steve getting Jensen ready to get started.

After a few hours of recording, and some drinks later Jensen, as well as Steve and Jared, had loosened up a little. Jared was in the sound room with you guys watching his best friend work. He was easy to talk to. During a break in recording while you were downloading the song he just recorded into the computer, Jared had been showing you pictures of his kids. He'd been cracking you all up with stories for the past hour.

"See this is Tom, trying to prank his little brother with a whip cream pie," he said, leaning over to you, showing you the video. That's when the two of you heard Jensen’s deep voice boom over the monitors.

"Hey, Steve, tell your girl in there to stop flirting with a married man, and go bring me some fucking coffee."

The whole room turned to look at you. Jensen was still sitting in the recording room with a guitar in his lap, giving you a cold stare through the thick glass. The comment stung. You weren't his damn maid, and you weren't flirting with a married man. Steve gave you an apologetic look. You knew you had to play along. Jensen was paying them a lot of money. So if he wanted you to shine his shoes while he sang you had to do it.

"Right away Mr. Ackles," Steve said, giving you a look that screamed, “I'm sorry.” 

Jared was giving his friend a death glare that Jensen didn’t seem to notice, or at least didn’t care.

"I'm sorry Y/N, he's just been a little on edge lately. That's not normally Jensen," Jared apologizing for his friend as you stand to go get his coffee for him.

"It's fine," was all you can say. 

In truth though, you felt like he'd just ripped your heart out and stomped on it. Not to mention humiliated you in front of your boss and coworker.  You fought back tears as you poured his coffee and entered the recording room.

You handed him his coffee, not even looking at him. He snatched it out of your hand, not even looking at you or saying thank you. You thought you had a crush on this guy. Turns out he's an ass hole like every other celebrity and artist you'd ever meet. Just another cocky dick that thought his shit didn’t stink.

Watching him on Supernatural and Smallville had gotten you through some really hard times in your life. You would have never thought he’d have done anything like he just did to you. You always pictured him as such a nice, genuine guy. Man, were you ever wrong.

You made your way from the recording room to the front where you kept your purse under the counter and shot Steve a text that said you weren’t feeling good, and you had to go home. Which wasn’t totally a lie, because your heart was broken, and you couldn’t stop the wave of tears that were streaming down your face.

You didn’t know why that one man’s opinion had hurt so much. You didn’t know him, and he didn’t know you, but as you fell back through the doors of the apartment you felt like your heart was shattered into a thousand pieces.

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

Tag List:

@deanwanddamons​​ @imabitch4jensen​​ @rvgrsbrns​​ @bi-danvers0​​ @onethirstyunicorn​​ @i-love-superhero​​ @akshi8278​ @alanegaming​ @magssteenkamp​ @lemondropirwin​

You and Me Tag List:

@idksupernatural​ 

@fuzzycloudsz 

@supernatural-bellawinchester​ 

@magssteenkamp​

@vicmc624​

[keanureevesisbae]

“The road to our forever” - Chapter 4

Summary: John and Darcie are planning their wedding, but it comes with certain ups and downs.

John Wick x OFC Darcie

Word count: 2k

Warnings: None

A/N: What?? Two chapters in one day?? Well originally I wanted it to be one chapter, but with the pov switch I decided I wouldn’t do it. enjoy xx

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter 

This is so weird. John and I bought a house. I feel so grown up right now. The apartment where we now live, was a gift from my parents. Since John payed for the entire townhouse, it should feel like a gift, but it doesn’t, really. It feels like an accomplishment for the both of us.

The next morning when John and I are driving off to work, I can’t stop beaming with happiness and pride. ‘John,’ I say. ‘Am I dreaming?’

He starts to laugh. He holds my hand tightly in his, while he maneuvers the car on the busy roads of New York City. ‘You are not. This is a hundred percent real.’ He brings my hand to his lips, to press multiple kisses on my ring finger, very close to my engagement ring. ‘We are very close to getting married, very close on moving in,’—around my birthday—‘and after that, you and I are going to start a family. I have to tell myself every single day that this is truly happening, so I get that you think this is a dream.’

I place my head against his shoulder. ‘I love you so much.’

‘I love you too.’

‘By the way, the wedding dress store called this morning,’ I say, ‘I can come by in four days to have a first orientating fitting session.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, I wrote them that I would love it if we could get a fitting on a Sunday morning, so I could bring everyone with me.’ I place my chin on his shoulder. ‘Are you going to go with me?’

‘Isn’t that bad luck?’ John asks, cocking an eyebrow.

‘I don’t believe in that shit, really. I want your opinion. You are going to pay for it and you have to look at it the entire day and still be happy that you are going to marry me. Come on, John, it would mean the world to me.’

He smiles. ‘Well, if it means the world to you, then I’ll have to go.’

John parks the car, opens my door and helps me to get out. He pushes the passengers seat to the front and lets the dogs out. He holds their leashes, before intertwining his fingers through mine as we walk to the cafe. I can’t help but notice that John has been happy the entire morning and I think it has something to do with Aurelio’s visit in a couple of hours. I’m pretty excited for John to finally have someone he knows from his older life back. I mean, I met Winston and he was pretty nice, but I also know a few things about the Continental now. I still don’t know enough about Aurelio, however I can imagine him being involved in John’s life a little more.

The cafe fills itself with people when we open up.

It’s exactly ten o’ clock and Aurelio steps inside the cafe. ‘Oh my God,’ Raye says, clearing her throat, ‘hottie alert, hottie alert.’

I haven’t told her about Aurelio’s visit yet. Just that yesterday John and I fucking bought a house of forty million dollars and an old acquaintance wasn’t important enough.

He holds up his hand when he sees John, and walks to the counter. ‘Hi Darcie,’ he says when he stands in front of me, causing Raye to nearly collapse. I can sense that she is ready to bombard me with questions, but somehow can keep it to herself, while she turns around to clean up something.

‘I’m so happy that you are here,’ I say to Aurelio. ‘Don’t tell John that I told you this, but he has been looking forward to this.’

The man across from me can’t help but laugh. ‘Well, me too. I always admired John,’ he says. ‘And I like the looks from your cafe.’

I can’t help but beam with happiness. ‘Thank you, Aurelio, that’s so sweet. Do you know what you want to order yet?’

‘A chai latte and something sweet. Doesn’t really matter what, I love everything.’

Aurelio wants to grab his wallet, but I shake my head. ‘No, this is on the house,’ I quickly tell him. ‘Really. I’m just happy that I get to meet you. It’s nice to get to know someone from John’s older life.’

He smiles. ‘That’s very sweet of you, Darcie. Thanks.’

He walks off to John’s table and sits right next to Oreo, who already likes him a lot by the looks of it.

‘Okay, who is that and why do you know him?’

I can’t help but laugh, when I look at Raye. ‘His name is Aurelio and he is an old friend of John,’ I say. ‘Before John went… To help me and my parents,’—there is a cute family right next to us, who can possibly overhear us—‘he went to Aurelio’s place for some stuff.’

‘He is hot.’ Raye looks over her shoulder to stare at him. ‘I’d do him.’

‘You say that about at least one customer every day,’ I help her remind. ‘What makes him so special?’

‘Everything.’

I prepare Aurelio’s chai latte and say: ‘I’ll bring this to him right now. You think about the snacks you can bring. I think there is something cooling down in the kitchen.’

‘You are a true angel.’

‘Well, before I got together with John, you were pretty amazing too, considering our slow ass flirting process. This is my way to thank you.’

‘I love you, Darcie.’

I walk up to John’s table and place the glass on the surface. ‘Here is your chai latte. The snacks will be here shortly,’ I say to the men.

John snakes his arm around my hips and pulls me closer.

‘I was just telling John that he is a lucky man,’ Aurelio says. ‘The fact that he is living his dream life now… We talked about that back in the day.’

‘Really?’ I ask, wrapping an arm around John’s broad shoulders.

‘Mhm. I mean, the man got out twice and from the looks of it, this is definitely the last time.’

John can’t help but laugh. ‘Well, if I have to, I’d do it all over again for her,’ John says, causing me to blush. ‘Still can’t believe I get to marry you soon.’

‘Some of my men walked by the other day,’ Aurelio says, ‘and they saw the two of you. They said that you were really in love with her. They knew because you couldn’t stop looking at here.’

Now it’s John’s turn to blush and I chuckle. ‘That’s too cute.’

‘Well,’ John says, ‘she is just too enchanting. I can’t help but to look at her.’

Aurelio takes a sip of his drink and says: ‘This is good, no wonder lots of people rave about this cafe.’

‘Stop it,’ I say, placing my hands on my cheeks so he can’t see them become even redder. ‘I’m so sorry, but I have to get back to work. Raye will bring you the snacks in a few.’ I press a kiss on John’s temple and walk to the counter.

The door opens and I hear Roger announce: ‘Miss Angel, we are here again!’

Roger and Greg walk up to the counter, causing me to check my wrist watch. ‘What are you two doing here? If you are skipping school, I swear to God, you guys. This is your senior year, very important.’

‘No, no, no,’ Greg quickly says, ‘not skipping school. We had a free period and wanted to ask you something anyway, so we decided that we could combine it.’

‘Okay, what is it?’

‘Well, on Valentines Day,’ Roger says, ‘we wanted to go on a double date. Greg, Tina, Ellie and I, but we wanted to go here, since this is really our place.’

‘Valentines Day is next week,’ I tell them. ‘You honestly think that you can just come here and expect a free seat?’

For a second they are scared, but then I start to laugh. ‘Gotcha, of course you can come over here. I would love for you guys to go on a double date here. That is so sweet. And since I’m the best anyways, I can arrange for you guys to sit at John’s table, so you are certain that you have a spot.’

‘Really? Well, if we sit there,’ Roger says, ‘maybe we’ll be forever together. I mean, you two are getting married.’

I really don’t want to smile like I’m insane, but I can’t stop myself. ‘Maybe, but aren’t you a little too young though, to think that far ahead in the future?’

‘No,’ Roger says. ‘I know that I want to marry Ellie when we’re older.’

‘Does she know that?’

‘Not yet, might scare her off, you know.’

I turn my attention to the other boy. ‘How about you, Greg?’

‘I love Tina with all my heart, but thinking about marriage already… That’s scary.’

I start to laugh. ‘That’s my boy. Let me guess, two hot chocolates with extra whipped cream and some chocolates?’

‘You know us, miss Angel.’ Roger pays for their order and they sit at the table near John. They politely introduce themselves to Aurelio, but I can see on their faces that they are a little disappointed that John has company.

While I prepare their order, I can see that Raye is staring at John’s table, already some still warm cake on a plate, but not moving. ‘It’s not that hard, Raye,’ I say. ‘You flirt with everyone here all the time. You have to hold yourself in to not flirt with my fiancé. What’s so special about this one?’

‘This one is totally different than every other guy.’

‘Well,’ I say, ‘while you are trying to gain your courage, I’ll bring this to the boys and sit with John and Aurelio for a while. It’s pretty calm around here. When you arrive, maybe me sitting there already makes it a little less nerve wrecking. I still don’t understand why you gain confidence when I’m this close, but I’m your friend and went with you to college parties and weirdly enough you needed me this close to flirt properly.’

‘You are the best.’

‘I know.’

I walk to Greg and Roger, give them their order and plop next to John on the chair. Without stopping the conversation, he puts his arm around my shoulder. ‘Well,’ I hear Aurelio say, ‘slowly, but surely I want to make sure that if I get a wife and a family one day, I’m able to separate to chop shop from the Continental. I mean, I still work with them, but I have different customers now.’

‘Totally understandable,’ John says.

‘Darcie, tell me this: how did you get John Wick to soften up this much? I mean, I’ve always wanted deep meaningful heart to heart talks with him, but it was impossible with this guy.’

‘I put him on a daily diet of cappuccino’s and chocolate brownies,’ I tell Aurelio. ‘Soon enough you have a deep conversation.’

‘I said it a few times to John already, but he is such a lucky guy to have found someone like you.’

‘Have you found someone yet?’ I ask him. If he says yes and he is happily in a relationship, I can still sign to Raye that she doesn’t need to be creative.

He shakes his head (thankfully). ‘Unfortunately. Dating while owning a chop shop isn’t as easy as it may look like.’

‘Mhm, well you are a good looking guy. I bet there are ton of ladies who would drop anything for you.’

I can’t believe I made a grown man blush and giggle like that.

‘She’s a keeper, John,’ Aurelio says, taking another sip of his chai latte. ‘A real keeper.’

I know John is going to agree, but before he can voice his thoughts, Raye has finally found the courage to walk up to our table. ‘Mister Mustang,’ she says in a stern voice, ‘I wasn’t aware you had hot friends and I’m very disappointed that you didn’t even feel the urge to tell me about that.’

I knew Raye was creative when it comes to pick up lines. I went out with her multiple times and she amazes me every single time, but this… I feel like this one is on top of her impressive list of pick up lines. I look at John, who nods with approval and when I glance at Aurelio, he seems amazed.

‘Since John is useless,’ she continues, ‘I’ll just have to introduce myself then. Hi, my name is Raye.’

‘Aurelio,’ he says, taking her hand in his. ‘Nice to meet you, Raye. Had I known that Darcie had such a beautiful friend working in her cafe, I would’ve visited this place a lot earlier.’

‘John,’ I quickly say, ‘I just remembered something, you promised Roger and Greg you were going to talk to them about something.’

He senses my underlying message and we get up. John gives me a quick kiss on my temple, before he whispers: ‘You are an amazing friend.’ He sits next to Roger and the conversation between them picks up right away.

Raye winks at me and I whisper: ‘Don’t you worry about the customers. I got your back.’

When I walk back to the counter, I can’t help but stare at Raye and Aurelio, who seem to hit it off immediately.

Maybe she’ll have a date to the wedding.

Taglist: @toomanystoriessolittletime​ // @flhorah​ // @allie1804-fan​ // @cynic-spirit​ // @raven-black102​

[emerald-studies]

The fierce Ruby Bridges

Early Life

Ruby Nell Bridges was born on September 8, 1954, in Tylertown, Mississippi. She grew up on the farm her parents and grandparents sharecropped in Mississippi.

When she was four years old, her parents, Abon and Lucille Bridges, moved to New Orleans, hoping for a better life in a bigger city.

Her father got a job as a gas station attendant and her mother took night jobs to help support their growing family. Soon, young Bridges had two younger brothers and a younger sister.

Education and Facts

The fact that Bridges was born the same year that the Supreme Court handed down its Brown v. Board of Education decision desegregating schools is a notable coincidence in her early journey into civil rights activism.

When Bridges was in kindergarten, she was one of many African American students in New Orleans who were chosen to take a test determining whether or not she could attend a white school. It is said the test was written to be especially difficult so that students would have a hard time passing. The idea was that if all the African American children failed the test, New Orleans schools might be able to stay segregated for a while longer.

Bridges lived a mere five blocks from an all-white school, but she attended kindergarten several miles away, at an all-Black segregated school. Bridges’ father was averse to his daughter taking the test, believing that if she passed and was allowed to go to the white school, there would be trouble. However, her mother, Lucille, pressed the issue, believing that Bridges would get a better education at a white school. She was eventually able to convince Bridges' father to let her take the test

In 1960, Bridges' parents were informed by officials from the NAACP that she was one of only six African American students to pass the test. Bridges would be the only African American student to attend the William Frantz School, near her home, and the first Black child to attend an all-white elementary school in the South.

Ruby Bridges and marshals leaving William Frantz Elementary School, New Orleans, 1960. She was escorted both to and from the school while segregationist protests continued.

Photo: Uncredited DOJ photographer (Via [1]) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

School Desegregation

When the first day of school rolled around in September, Bridges was still at her old school. All through the summer and early fall, the Louisiana State Legislature had found ways to fight the federal court order and slow the integration process. After exhausting all stalling tactics, the Legislature had to relent, and the designated schools were to be integrated that November.

Fearing there might be some civil disturbances, the federal district court judge requested the U.S. government send federal marshals to New Orleans to protect the children. On the morning of November 14, 1960, federal marshals drove Bridges and her mother five blocks to her new school. While in the car, one of the men explained that when they arrived at the school, two marshals would walk in front of Bridges and two would be behind her.

When Bridges and the federal marshals arrived at the school, large crowds of people were gathered in front yelling and throwing objects. There were barricades set up, and policemen were everywhere.

Bridges, in her innocence, first believed it was like a Mardi Gras celebration. When she entered the school under the protection of the federal marshals, she was immediately escorted to the principal's office and spent the entire day there. The chaos outside, and the fact that nearly all the white parents at the school had kept their children home, meant classes weren't going to be held at all that day.

Ostracized at Elementary School

On her second day, the circumstances were much the same as the first, and for a while, it looked like Bridges wouldn't be able to attend class. Only one teacher, Barbara Henry, agreed to teach Bridges. She was from Boston and a new teacher to the school. "Mrs. Henry," as Bridges would call her even as an adult, greeted her with open arms.

Bridges was the only student in Henry's class because parents pulled or threatened to pull their children from Bridges' class and send them to other schools. For a full year, Henry and Bridges sat side by side at two desks, working on Bridges' lessons. Henry was loving and supportive of Bridges, helping her not only with her studies but also with the difficult experience of being ostracized.

Bridges' first few weeks at Frantz School were not easy ones. Several times she was confronted with blatant racism in full view of her federal escorts. On her second day of school, a woman threatened to poison her. After this, the federal marshals allowed her to only eat food from home. On another day, she was "greeted" by a woman displaying a Black doll in a wooden coffin.

Bridges' mother kept encouraging her to be strong and pray while entering the school, which Bridges discovered reduced the vehemence of the insults yelled at her and gave her courage. She spent her entire day, every day, in Mrs. Henry's classroom, not allowed to go to the cafeteria or out to recess to be with other students in the school. When she had to go to the restroom, the federal marshals walked her down the hall.

Several years later, federal marshal Charles Burks, one of her escorts, commented with some pride that Bridges showed a lot of courage. She never cried or whimpered, Burks said, "She just marched along like a little soldier."

Effect on the Bridges Family

The abuse wasn't limited to only Bridges; her family suffered as well. Her father lost his job at the filling station, and her grandparents were sent off the land they had sharecropped for over 25 years. The grocery store where the family shopped banned them from entering. However, many others in the community, both Black and white, began to show support in a variety of ways. Gradually, many families began to send their children back to the school and the protests and civil disturbances seemed to subside as the year went on.

A neighbor provided Bridges' father with a job, while others volunteered to babysit the four children, watch the house as protectors, and walk behind the federal marshals on the trips to school.

Signs of Stress

After winter break, Bridges began to show signs of stress. She experienced nightmares and would wake her mother in the middle of the night seeking comfort.For a time, she stopped eating lunch in her classroom, which she usually ate alone. Wanting to be with the other students, she would not eat the sandwiches her mother packed for her, but instead hid them in a storage cabinet in the classroom.

Soon, a janitor discovered the mice and cockroaches who had found the sandwiches. The incident led Mrs. Henry to lunch with Bridges in the classroom.Bridges started seeing child psychologist Dr. Robert Coles, who volunteered to provide counseling during her first year at Frantz School. He was very concerned about how such a young girl would handle the pressure. He saw Bridges once a week either at school or at her home.

During these sessions, he would just let her talk about what she was experiencing. Sometimes his wife came too and, like Dr. Coles, she was very caring toward Bridges. Coles later wrote a series of articles for Atlantic Monthly and eventually a series of books on how children handle change, including a children's book on Bridges' experience.

Overcoming Obstacles

Near the end of the first year, things began to settle down. A few white children in Bridges' grade returned to the school. Occasionally, Bridges got a chance to visit with them. By her own recollection many years later, Bridges was not that aware of the extent of the racism that erupted over her attending the school. But when another child rejected Bridges' friendship because of her race, she began to slowly understand.

By Bridges' second year at Frantz School, it seemed everything had changed. Mrs. Henry's contract wasn't renewed, and so she and her husband returned to Boston. There were also no more federal marshals; Bridges walked to school every day by herself. There were other students in her second-grade class, and the school began to see full enrollment again. No one talked about the past year. It seemed everyone wanted to put the experience behind them.

Bridges finished grade school and graduated from the integrated Francis T. Nicholls High School in New Orleans. She then studied travel and tourism at the Kansas City business school and worked for American Express as a world travel agent.

Husband and Children

In 1984, Bridges married Malcolm Hall in New Orleans. She later became a full-time parent to their four sons.

Norman Rockwell Painting

In 1963, painter Norman Rockwell recreated Bridges' monumental first day at school in the painting, “The Problem We All Live With.” The image of this small Black girl being escorted to school by four large white men graced the cover of Look magazine on January 14, 1964.

The Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge, Massachusetts, now owns the painting as part of its permanent collection. In 2011, the museum loaned the work to be displayed in the West Wing of the White House for four months upon the request of President Barack Obama.

Book and Movie

'The Story of Ruby Bridges'

In 1995, Robert Coles, Bridges' child psychologist and a Pulitzer-Prize winning author, published The Story of Ruby Bridges, a children's picture book depicting her courageous story.

Soon after, Barbara Henry, her teacher that first year at Frantz School, contacted Bridges and they were reunited on The Oprah Winfrey Show.

'Ruby Bridges'

“Ruby Bridges” is a Disney TV movie, written by Toni Ann Johnson, about Bridges' experience as the first Black child to integrate an all-white Southern elementary school.

The two-hour film, shot entirely in Wilmington, North Carolina, first aired on January 18, 1998, and was introduced by President Bill Clinton and Disney CEO Michael Eisner in the Cabinet Room of the White House.

Ruby Bridges Foundation

In 1999, Bridges formed the Ruby Bridges Foundation, headquartered in New Orleans. Bridges was inspired following the murder of her youngest brother, Malcolm Bridges, in a drug-related killing in 1993 — which brought her back to her former elementary school.

For a time, Bridges looked after Malcolm's four children, who attended William Frantz School. She soon began to volunteer there three days a week and soon became a parent-community liaison.

With Bridges' experience as a liaison at the school and her reconnection with influential people in her past, she began to see a need for bringing parents back into the schools to take a more active role in their children's education.

Bridges launched her foundation to promote the values of tolerance, respect and appreciation of differences. Through education and inspiration, the foundation seeks to end racism and prejudice. As its motto goes, "Racism is a grown-up disease, and we must stop using our children to spread it."

In 2007, the Children's Museum of Indianapolis unveiled a new exhibition documenting Bridges' life, along with the lives of Anne Frank and Ryan White. (source)

[gumnut-logic]

We’ll Be Home For Christmas 5.1

Title: We’ll be home for Christmas

Day Five – Here on Tracy Island – Part 1 Prologue | 1.1 | 1.2 | 2.1 | 2.2 | 2.3 | 3.1 | 3.2 | 3.3 | 3.4 | 3.5 | 4.1 | 4.2 | 4.3 | 4.4 | 4.5 | 4.6 | 5.1

Author: Gumnut

20 Jun 2020

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: The boys can’t fly home for Christmas, so they have to find another way.

Word count: 3313

Spoilers & warnings: language and so, so much fluff. Science!Gordon. Artist!Virgil, Minor various ships, mostly background.

Timeline: Christmas Season 3, I have also kinda ignored the main storyline of Season 3. The boys needed a break, so I gave them one. Post season 3B, before Season 3C cos I started this fic before we saw it.

Author’s note: For @scattergraph​​​​​. This is my 2019 TAG Secret Santa fic :D

No, I haven’t forgotten about this fic, and yes, it hit the six month mark about two weeks ago. I started writing this 8 Dec 2019. I’m nearly there.

Landmark, though. It is now officially my longest Thunderbirds fic, overtaking Gentle Rain today at around 60,000 words, depending on which word processing program it is sitting in. Never expected it to be this long.

This chapter pretty much wrote itself. It is almost like a role call of the five brothers and their states of mind. So a little bit of all the bros in this. I hope you enjoy.

Many thanks to @i-am-chidorixblossom​​​ @scribbles97​​​​​ and @onereyofstarlight​​​​​ for reading through various bits, fielding my many wibblies, and for all their wonderful support.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

Day Five: Here on Tracy Island

Virgil woke late the next morning. It was a pleasant awakening, slipping from deep sleep to doze to a peaceful warmth beneath the covers. His room was dark. Darker than his cabin on A Little Lightning and with decidedly less sway.

He lay there for a while, enjoying the lack of need to get up and do anything and the absence of pain. He had slept the sleep of the dead and was thoroughly rested. There was something to be said about sleeping in your own bed at home that no holiday anywhere could provide.

But honestly, he wasn’t one to sit and do nothing for long, his brain kicking into gear while he lay there, listing off things waiting to be done. A visit to Two to reassure himself she had been checked over and was ready should she be needed. Not that he didn’t trust his family, it was just for his own peace of mind.

He should be able to get away with it so long as he didn’t spend too much time down there.

It took him a full half an hour of random rumination to realise that it was Christmas Day.

Oh shit.

The clock said eleven am.

His family...

He sat up abruptly and was thoroughly reminded of how stupid such a move was.

Oh, for the love of...

He grunted and rolled over until his face was smothered in his pillow.

The medic in his brain listed off the reasons why he shouldn’t have done that and why he needed to be careful and, goddamnit, he was sick of this. It was only an appendix, for crying out loud.

Stupid surgery.

That could have been so much worse.

He was being a spoilt child.

He let out a breath into his pillow, its warmth wrapping around his face. Another week and he would be fine.

But now, it was eleven oh five on Christmas morning and he was holding his family up.

He clambered out of bed with minimal complaint from his body, into the shower, a shave and into his familiar red flannel, jeans and boots.

It was such a comfort to be home.

He blow-dried his hair, gelled it up and made himself presentable.

The man who stared at him from his bathroom mirror was one appendix less and a whole pile of experience more.

He hummed to himself, tasting the notes in his throat. He could feel the soft whale skin under his fingertips, hear the lap of the water, the breeze in his hair...

And the music.

His eyes were closed without permission, the imagery taking over his mind. His fingers tapped against the bathroom vanity marking out the beat and rhythm of what he was trying to say, the pictures warping into abstract and lack of understanding.

Salty and long spoken, the notes repeated.

He didn’t know how long he stood there under the bathroom light, eyes seeing another world somewhere below the ocean surface.

By the time he shook off the haze it was eleven forty-five.

Almost lunchtime.

Alan would be foaming at the bit.

He pushed himself away from the sink and killed the light. Walking carefully across his room, he shook himself, rolling his shoulders. Get it together, Virgil. Your family is waiting for you.

Out through the door, down the corridor and, screw the stairs, he was taking the elevator.

It swallowed him whole.

-o-o-o-

Gordon had been up since before the sun. It was a sign that he was home. A session in the pool brought familiarity into the equation. There was definitely a difference between swimming in the pool versus the ocean and it had nothing to do with water salinity.

The ocean was beautiful and he adored it. But the pool sported no threat, no need to monitor his surroundings beyond the presence of a mischievous brother or two, leaving him to be able to focus on his stroke and let his mind wander.

The pleasant warmth of well used muscles pulling him forward through the water, simple thought processing...and considering the last few days, there were a lot of thoughts awaiting examination.

Some he had managed while piloting A Little Lightning on the home stretch, but there were still more needing answers and tactical decisions.

Sam. Mel. Scott. John. Virgil.

As far as he knew, Scott was still planning on inviting the neighbours over today. That would place Sam within reach of the apparently resistant Virgil.

He understood where both men were coming from. Virgil needed time and Sam was just a ball of eager energy.

Gordon was stuck between the two.

Push came to shove, he would side with Virgil regardless. He had too. But he really didn’t want to be divisive. If Virgil would talk just a little, it would help not only Sam and himself, but it might assuage the ball of worried energy that was Scott.

His arms sliced through water until he reached the end of the lane, his body automatically flipping and turning into the push off surge in the opposite direction. Air, splash and his hands slicing through the water again.

Okay, he would admit that he was worried himself. At first it was just amazing. His brother could sing to whales! A breakthrough. But yesterday he witnessed exactly how spaced Virgil became when singing and everything screamed wary. Humpback whales were beautiful creatures, but so big and so possibly unintentionally dangerous.

He couldn’t let Virgil anywhere near a whale alone. It just wasn’t safe. There was so much they didn’t know and the urge to protect his gentle brother just swelled in his heart.

They needed to investigate further. Find out exactly what was going on. Make sure his brother was safe. That it didn’t affect any water rescues.

They couldn’t afford to have Virgil spacing out in the ocean at random. As it was, Gordon wasn’t going to let Virgil anywhere near the ocean during rescues for the foreseeable future. He could stay up in Two.

Safe.

Whale song could travel around the globe.

His native realm had become a hazard for his big brother and that was unacceptable.

They had to find out what was going on.

John and Eos had made a good start, but Sam and himself needed to investigate further and soon.

Virgil needed to cooperate for his own safety.

Gordon broke his stroke, pushed himself to the side of the pool and rested his head on the concrete a moment, letting his body float randomly.

Blood pumped through his ears, his heart still running at exercise rate.

He needed to convince Virgil.

Somehow.

-o-o-o-

Scott revelled in the early dawn light. His feet pounded on his wonderfully familiar route around the Island. A trek he hadn’t laid eyes on for a week.

His runners crunched volcanic gravel beneath them.

The sun was just rising on Christmas Day, the beautiful weather hanging strong, the sea a stretch of glass disappearing off into the horizon. His current trajectory pointed him directly south where he knew beyond the glass lay Raoul Island. A single spot in a sea of blue, so similar to the even tinier spot that was Tracy Island.

Same sea of blue.

A pokey tree appeared on the side of the track, its red flowers quite glorious in the morning sun, and he found himself grinning. Sure, he knew the correct name of the pōhutukawa tree, but Alan’s name was so much easier to pronounce and it made Mel laugh.

His legs took the strain as he jogged up the rapidly steepening trail.

If he was honest with himself, the whole no strings attached thing was a lie. He found himself thinking about the woman more the longer they were away from Raoul.

And they only left yesterday.

As soon as the sun was high enough in the sky to be polite, he would be contacting Raoul with his invitation to her, Sam and Liam. It wasn’t the only time he had invited people to the Island, they weren’t entirely hermits, but it was rare and the first time in a long time.

And he was so looking forward to it.

Penny and Parker were due after breakfast as was the tradition. As soon as everyone was awake, they would have their present opening party, always a major family event. More for the company and laughter than the presents themselves.

He could almost hear Gordon declaring it ‘Tracy style’ complete with the arm movements to compliment the claim.

But Mel...it was like he was excited to show her the Island, perhaps because he knew she would be very interested in the ecosystem that had developed here since their father had begun repairing it over a decade ago.

And he was staring at it right now as he followed the path around the back of the Island. Pokey trees, palms and ferns were everywhere a foothold was available. Scott knew very little about their ecosystem beyond the need to keep it safe. Gordon and Virgil were the ones who knew most about it among the brothers. Gordon focussed on the sea and Virgil sometimes helped out with animal numbers and photography for the scientific group.

But Mel hadn’t been here since Dad...

He grunted and hurdled a rock he hurdled every morning as the slope inverted and started heading down. The view was stunning.

Despite the glass of the ocean, the swell still crashed on the back cliffs of the Island, jagged volcanic rock resistant to the relentless pounding.

Hopefully she would consent to the visit even though it was late notice.

He did have a Thunderbird, after all.

-o-o-o-

John hadn’t slept much. He never did when something was on his mind. His everything drove him to find a solution, particularly when a brother was involved.

Eos never slept, so she was the perfect insomnia companion.

There was also the factor that he was home, but he really wasn’t.

He was missing Five.

Now he was back on the Island, everything was screaming at him to go home.

Not that he didn’t like the Island, quite the opposite. The Island contained his brothers, his grandmother, Kayo, his family and he adored his family.

But the stars were calling to him. His body ached to feel the release from gravity. He wanted his home.

He ignored it.

His body needed gravity. It was an undeniable fact. It had evolved under the pressure exerted by the planet and while his mind adored the stars and the lack of gravity, nature demanded its return under the ‘use it or lose it’ mandate of life on Earth.

So, tired, but awake anyway as the sun hit the front of the villa, John made his way down to the pool where he found Gordon, as expected, in the water, but unexpectedly, not swimming. His head was lying on one arm at the edge of the pool, his body floating lazily behind.

John dropped his towel on a lounger and, bare footed to the edge next to his brother. Folding himself into a seated position he dropped his feet to dangle in the cool water.

“Gordon?”

“Hmm?” His head rose a little blearily. “Oh, John, hey.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Huh? What, oh, Merry Christmas, John.”

A frown. “You okay?”

Gordon flexed his shoulders. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“Virgil?”

“Yeah.”

John sighed. “Same. But you do know he’s okay?”

“Yeah, just thinking it through.”

John pushed himself into the water and couldn’t help a relieved sigh as the water took away so many of the effects of gravity, cradling his body. “Swim with me?”

Brown eyes turned to him and John saw a reflection of his own worry in their depths. “Sure.” Gordon pushed off from the edge, his movements graceful despite his distraction.

John moved to the lane next to Gordon’s preferred and lined up beside his fish brother. Gordon shot him a brief but grateful smile before pushing off the end in a careless surge into stroke. He was metres ahead before John had even shifted into form.

Typical.

Show off.

But he couldn’t help but smile as he pushed off the edge himself, automatically moving into a strong but leisurely stroke in warm up.

Swimming denied verbal communication, but it wasn’t needed, the two of them just keeping each other company.

By the fifth lap, John started pushing himself, putting his body through the exercise needed to keep it healthy. He had no delusions of keeping up with Gordon. He just paced himself as his body needed it. Twenty laps in, he eased up a little and checked on his brother.

Gordon was still going. John brought himself to a halt, treading water, muscles pleasantly buzzing.

“Hey, John.” The astronaut startled, turning in place to find Scott standing on the edge of the pool. His running gear appeared well used, sweat stains prominent, and he was still breathing heavily. “Just letting you know that I’m going to be taking One out in about half an hour.”

“You going to get Mel and Sam?” Gordon was suddenly beside him. It was a sign of how tired John actually was that his younger brother startled him almost as much as Scott had a moment earlier.

“Yeah.”

“Can I come with?”

“Don’t you want to be here for when Penny arrives?”

John arched an eyebrow in Gordon’s direction. The fish had been looking forward to Christmas for that very reason. Before Virgil’s illness, it had been Penelope this, Penelope that. Apparently, he had the ‘best’ gift lined up for their first Christmas as a couple. Whether or not that was still going ahead considering recent events, John had no idea. Gordon hadn’t mentioned it since Virgil fell ill.

“I thought you had the fastest plane on the planet, Scotty.”

Their eldest brother snorted. “Plane, yes, younger brother, no.”

“Hey, I can be fast.” A strawberry blond frown. “Regardless, I need to speak to Sam.”

Scott eyed him a moment. “Virgil?”

Gordon sighed. “Yeah, Virgil. Gotta handle this delicately.”

Scott’s lips thinned. “Okay, then you better be ready in thirty because that’s when I’m leaving.”

The fish was already climbing out of the pool. Wet footprints marked the concrete as he strode to his towel.

Blue eyes turned to John. “You okay? You look tired.”

John let water run through his fingers. “I am, but I’ll live.”

Voice quiet. “Virgil?”

A single nod, voice equally quiet. “Virgil. Eos, Gordon and I will work it out. We just need time.” And patience. Admittedly, he didn’t have much of that where his brothers’ health was concerned. He could fake it, but it didn’t mean he felt it.

Scott’s expression was thoughtful. “I know you will do your best. Don’t forget to look after yourself.”

A groan. This was why Virgil was always adamant that he was fine. I single hint of something wrong and their biggest brother was all over them, his concern obvious. “I’m fine, Scott.”

That earned him a grunt and John actually struggled not to smile at his brother’s exasperation. John swam to the pool edge and pushed himself out of the water. A wave in the direction of the rising sun’s reflection. “The pool is all yours, dear brother.”

Scott eyed him. “Thank you.”

The morning breeze cooled John enough to raise goose pimples on his arms. Before he could reach for his towel, Scott was handing it to him.

Ever the big brother. It was John’s turn to eye him back. “Thank you.”

Scott smiled at him, a definite smirk on those lips. He knew exactly what John was thinking and had likely done it on purpose. “Anytime.”

Hmmm. “Merry Christmas, Scott.”

Those blue eyes widened as his big brother obviously realised that despite all the preparations underway, despite the tree they had stacked with presents the night before, he had still managed to forget the significance of the day.

It was John’s turn to smirk.

But Scott recovered quickly, tilting his head, a small smile on his lips. “Merry Christmas, John.”

With that he turned and headed off into the house.

-o-o-o-

Alan loved to sleep in. He shared this love with his second eldest brother. Getting up early sucked big time and he had no coffee addiction to help him.

But there was one day of the year when you could witness the youngest Tracy out of bed, while not early, at least a decent time where breakfast could still be called breakfast and not lunch or even brunch.

Christmas Day.

Alan adored the day. Presents, food and family, what more could a guy ask for?

So, eight am found him stumbling down the stairs to the kitchen in search of the second and third items on the list. He found Grandma at the kitchen table eating her fruit and yoghurt.

Alan made no effort to be quiet, but she didn’t appear to realise he was there, staring out across the lagoon. “Grandma?”

She dropped her spoon with a clatter as it hit the bowl. “Alan!” She clutched her hand to her chest, gasping. “You frightened me. Gave my old heart a kick in the pants.”

“Sorry, Grandma. Are you okay?”

“This time. Though I wouldn’t recommend doing it too often.” She held out an arm. “C’mere and give me a Christmas hug.”

Now that was something he was quite happy to do. Grandma hugs were always appreciated. “Merry Christmas, Grandma.” He held her tight.

“Merry Christmas, honey. Are you hungry?”

Uh, that was always a loaded question and there were important indicators related to that. “Where is everyone?” He had expected to find at least John down here. His space brother would eat his breakfast staring out into the lagoon and follow it with work on his tablet just to be around family in his own way. But not today.

“Scott and Gordon have gone to Raoul to collect Ms Fisher and that scientist friend of Gordon’s.”

“Sam?”

“I guess. They were both in quite a hurry to leave.”

That set Alan grinning. “I think Scott likes Mel.”

An arched eyebrow. “I thought she liked Virgil.”

A snort accompanied the grin. “I don’t think she is Virgil’s kind of girl.”

Of course, that was the very moment Kayo decided to enter the kitchen. She had obviously been on a run, dressed in shorts and a high cut top.

“Who’s Virgil’s kind of girl?”

Alan’s eyes widened. “Um.”

Green narrowed at him. “What are you up to, Alan?”

“Nothing!” He held out his hands. “What did I do?”

“I’m more concerned with what you are going to do.”

“Suspicious, much? I’m going to eat breakfast, that’s what.”

She continued to eye him. “No practical jokes today.”

“I wasn’t planning on it. Gee, you’d think I was Gordy or something.”

“Gordon will be contained by Lady Penelope. You, however, are not.”

“And what? That makes me some kind of prank genius?”

“Genius, no, annoyance, yes.”

“Hey, Merry Christmas, Kayo. How about a little of the spirit?”

She glared and him and grunted before turning away and stalking off.

“What’s up her skirt?”

“Alan!”

“Well, you saw her. I didn’t do anything!”

Grandma was quiet a moment. “She has things on her mind.”

“When doesn’t she?”

“Let her be.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

Grandma sighed. “Things will work themselves out for the best.”

Alan stared at his grandmother. What on Earth was going on? Did everyone know something that he didn’t. He sighed. Wouldn’t be the first time. “I’m going grab some breakfast.”

“Yes, dear.” And Grandma was staring out at the lagoon again.

What the-?

Alan grabbed the refrigerator door and flung it open, his eyes raking its contents. Perhaps food would fix things.

A glance at Grandma found that she hadn’t moved.

There was definitely something going on.

-o-o-o-

End Day 5 Part 1

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: “Now We Are A Fairy Tale”

I originally wrote this little one shot just after the Season three finale, when my brain was wonderfully warm and melted for a bit with the perfection of the CS movie. This is a little add-on  missing moment scenario for the end of "There's No Place Like Home" – it picks up not long after the finale's ending. Enjoy, and please please let me know what you think.

(Of course I don't own them!)

"Now We Are a Fairy Tale"

By: @snowbellewells​

It didn't strike Emma Swan fully until much later that night. Not until after she had worried and fretted with her mother over what she had inadvertently done to Regina, held and cooed at, and quite honestly, cried over holding her new baby brother in her arms, and finally trudged up the steps to the loft after the rest of her family. They were all weary and certainly ready for a good night's sleep without having to worry about Wicked Witch attacks, lost memories, winged killer primates, or yawning time portals. In fact, everyone was so exhausted that even her incredibly doting, nosey, and old-fashioned parents had not yet raised any sort of argument at the fact that she was tugging her pirate captain behind her. Henry was practically asleep on his feet at the front of their little procession with Snow and the baby, for which Emma was glad – he surely would have noticed.

Killian, however, was making quiet protest any chance he could whisper near her ear without alerting the others. "Lass, you needn't take me in like a stray pup. My room at Granny's is quite sufficient. I cannot impose on your family, and surely your parents will object."

"I don't care, Killian. You're coming," she hissed back. She didn't particularly want to have her parents go all overprotective on her, but right at this moment, she couldn't let him out of her sight either. It was amazing how simply her heart had expanded to want and need him more with every beat. As cautious and guarded as she had been, now that she had admitted her feelings, she was lit up all over in the glow of his love, and she couldn't seem to let him go for a second.

"I'll be fine, Love," he insisted as they crossed the threshold and Emma turned to magically seal and safeguard the place behind them – more out of habit than from continued necessity – and the rest of their little troupe moved off further into the house. "This is not the way things are done. For all my jesting, I am a gentleman, Emma, and I wish to court you properly."

"Really, Killian?" she smirked, arching a brow at him, half in flattered disbelief and half in exasperation. Now that she wasn't fighting him anymore, she had honestly been looking forward to really getting her hands on him.

"Aye, truly, Darling," he replied softly. Both the hushed timbre of his voice and the look in his eyes conveyed his sincerity, even without Emma using her superpower. "I wish to do right by you, and I am not sure how far to trust my control if we are to be sleeping in the same quarters."

Emma had to swallow a rather large lump in her throat at the look of hunger in his eyes while he spoke those last words, his hypnotic blue gaze practically caressing her. "You and me both, Buddy," she remarked wryly, admitting in her head that he was probably right to slow this down a bit, though the whole thing seemed oddly reversed from their usual interactions.

"What's that, Swan?" he questioned, a smirk on his face showing he already had a good idea where her thoughts had been.

Looking up at him coyly from beneath her lashes, Emma smirked right back before explaining, "I was honestly looking forward to allowing you into my quarters, Pirate. Your charms have finally won me over."

"About bloody time!" was his immediate playful retort. His eyes flashed with true relief, even as he broke into a pleased chuckle with the familiar response. Then, he was pulling her to him, the hunger flaring again in his expression when she came willingly, almost melting into his embrace. "If that's the way you feel, Princess…" he murmured gruffly before lowering his head and capturing her lips with his own.

It was as desperate and strong as it had been either of the times before. Though she had been warmly overwhelmed and almost boneless as Killian first wrapped her up, Emma was soon responding in kind, her hands clutching almost frantically at his shoulders before one trailed up even further to fist in his dark hair.

It would have been near painful, if Killian hadn't been so stirred by the show of need from her equal to his own. The little growl that escaped her throat, demanding more, spurred him on, and he delved his good hand into her soft, golden hair in return, angling her head just so to deepen the kiss further, a groan rumbling through his chest in spite of himself in response to the feel of her in his arms at last.

Tremors ran through Emma's body at Killian's reaction, still not sure how to believe someone could desire her so completely, honestly, and unequivocally. Without coherent thought, Emma realized that she was moving, drawing him along with her, heading toward the hall, to the stairs and her room. They would have made it too; she had no doubt, if there had not been the creak of a floorboard, and then footsteps on the stairs.

They pulled apart as a suspicious-looking Charming appeared above them on the stairway. His hand was still up, having been rubbing his eyes sleepily before he caught his daughter and his new friend in the midst of their first serious make out session. The Prince's eyes narrowed and his voice, though grumpy and tired, did not brook argument as he came down the rest of the steps to stand before them, studying them both with astute authority.

"I'm grateful, Hook, not stupid," David grumbled, shuffling past them into the kitchen to the sink. "Let's keep it PG in here, shall we?"

Emma couldn't help the actual giggle that escaped her upon seeing Killian's look of confusion at her father's last statement. The oddity of both her man not understanding what a movie was, nor being caught making out by her father like he should have been able to do when she was a teenager, didn't escape her and she was beaming – truly happy with everything in her life and hardly knowing how to handle so much joy.

David turned with his glass of water and gave each of them a stern, searching look. "I'll see you both in the morning," was all he finally said before moving back toward his and Snow's room. Still, his implication was clear.

"Yes, your Highness," Killian responded, giving the Prince a nod as he passed, and somehow managing to convey both respect and sardonic humor at the same time. Emma could do little more than bite her lip to hold back further laughter at the both of them and the whole situation.

When Charming had gone and they were alone again, Emma couldn't help the fit of giggles she dissolved into, one quick look at Killian's curious expression and the eyebrow he raised in question at her had Emma burying her face in his shoulder, hers shaking with mirth.

"What is it, Love?" he asked, brushing reverent fingers through her hair and chuckling with her, more at simply seeing her happy than in understanding what she found so funny.

She shook her head, glancing back up at him happily. "Nothing much," she assured him with a grin. "One of these days we'll just have to inform you of some modern world sayings, Pirate, that's all."

"So, Darling…" he murmured, blue eyes darkening attractively with intent as he leaned forward, all seriousness and innuendo once more, "where were we?"

Emma had to draw in a shaky breath to center herself and keep her body from betraying her by falling right under his spell again. She leaned away from his tempting lips and quirked a wry smile at him, clearly teasing. "I was about to make you forget that you're 'always a gentleman'," she supplied.

Killian's face registered shock for a moment, before he literally licked his lips and reached out to capture her in his arms again. "Too right, Lass," he agreed huskily.

Emma shook her head, evading his grasp playfully once more. "I think it's a good thing David interrupted us," she said hesitantly. "I was getting swept up in the moment, and I don't want to ruin this, the way I've done with nearly every other relationship in my life. Besides, they trust us, Killian…"

He gave her a doubtful look, but she pressed on.

"No, I mean it. They trust you too. And I think you value that more than you let on. Pirate reputation to uphold and all," she winked at him jokingly with that last statement.

"Emma, I would never…" he began, concern in his eyes, as if fearing that she thought he would take advantage.

She stepped forward again, bringing her hand to rest over his heart tenderly. "I know, Killian. Don't worry so much. I was the one who went a little overboard." She paused for a moment, searching his lovely eyes until she saw relief clear them. "Stay here for a second, okay?" she asked finally. "I'll be right back. There's something I want to show you."

She headed for the hallway and saw him moving in to sit on the living room couch, before she turned to tiptoe into Henry's room. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness easily with the aid of the moonlight spilling in through the window and across her son's peaceful, sleeping face. She knew what she was after and quietly crept right over to Henry's desk, where she knew her kept his prized book of fairy tales, front and center on the surface in a place of honor.

Smiling once she had it in her hands, Emma ran her fingertips thoughtfully over the curling, gilt letters on the book's cover. Without this book, Henry would never have known their story, he wouldn't have come looking for her, and her whole life now would be different. For all that she had sworn she wanted out of the crazy, magical Storybrooke world, Emma would no longer want to be in the normal world she'd had – all alone and closed off from love.

Still trying not to make a sound or disturb Henry's rest, Emma turned and slipped out of her son's room and back to the living room where her pirate waited.

When Killian raised his face to smile at her and patted the couch cushion beside him, she was drawn forward – right to his side like a magnet. Opening the large book over both of their laps, Emma could not help cuddling into his side and laying her head on his shoulder. Even just a few days prior, him wrapping his good arm around her to hold her closer and ruffle her hair would have frightened her, crowded her, felt too confining, but now she reveled in it, tipping her face up to press a kiss to the underside of his strong, defined jaw.

Killian sucked in a quick, strangled breath, and she felt him tense, bringing himself back under control. "You are sailing dangerous waters, Princess," he warned, tone carefully light, but his grip around her showing just how difficult that restraint was. With a sigh, he tried to move beyond what was simmering between them, loosening his taut muscles by sheer force of will. "Why don't you show me what you were intending to show me?" he suggested.

Emma nodded and began to rifle through the pages in the book, looking for the picture she had glimpsed only briefly with Henry earlier at Granny's. She hadn't purposefully been trying to torment Killian; the affection and greedy touching and hunger were completely new to her and nearly overwhelming. It was still surprising and difficult for her to fathom the affect she seemed to have on him without even trying. So many years of being invisible – not mattering to anyone – were not something that could be forgotten in a few days, or even months, and she could easily be stunned all over again by his devotion and care. Emma shook her head a little to clear it of so many circling thoughts, and finally landed on the story she had been seeking. Her hands ghosted over the picture still familiar from recent memory. Then, she turned to study Killian's face, making sure he understood what this meant.

She was no longer fighting it. They were real. They were true.

Killian's eyes widened adorably, leaning over the book slightly and then grinning as if his face might split in two. "Are we now in this book, Lass?" he asked, disbelief and awe in his voice.

A lump that had already been rising in her throat from earlier emotion stopped Emma's words, so she merely nodded her head 'yes', locking eyes with him and bringing her hand up to cradle his stubbled cheek. She swallowed a few times before finding her voice shakily, and then she finally managed. "We are. Or at least Charles and Leia are…" she chuckled at her own ridiculously bad attempt at thinking on her feet.

"Ah, well, those two certainly look quite happy, don't they?" he murmured, voice rumbling in her ear and sending shivers racing all along her skin.

Normally, she would be running by now – overwhelmed – but instead, for the first time ever, she wanted to stay right there. "It almost looks like a happy ending," she agreed, blinking back the tears of joy that were still trying to threaten.

"So now we are a fairytale ourselves, are we Swan?"

"Looks that way," she responded cheekily.

"The Princess and the Pirate?" he questioned lightly, jokingly trying to guess the title.

"Hmm…" Emma hummed, pretending deep thought for a second, and then she smiled at him warmly, barely resisting the urge to curl up even closer against him. "Maybe you should read it to me, and we'll find out?"

Killian acquiesced easily to her wishes, and Emma could see clearly now that it was the same thing he had been doing for as long as she had known him; striving to do her bidding and waiting for her to understand. His rich, sultry, accented voice wrapped around her like a comforting blanket, retelling the adventure they had undertaken together. Her peace and contentment were so blissfully complete that she was almost afraid to close her eyes, though exhaustion was fast overcoming her as she listened to his voice.

Her eyelashes fluttered, and Emma tried valiantly to fight them back open. Killian's fingers brushed feather-light over her forehead just then, followed by a quick, gentle peck of his lips. Carefully, he eased her down to rest her head on his thigh and stretch her legs out across the couch.

"It's alright, Emma love. Rest. I will be here when you wake."

And with those words, she finally fell into the most peaceful sleep she'd ever had, followed shortly by her pirate – both knowing they were safe… and at home.

Tagging a few who may enjoy: @jennjenn615​ @kmomof4​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @searchingwardrobes​ @hollyethecurious​ @laschatzi​ @thisonesatellite​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @shireness-says​ @snidgetsafan​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ @therooksshiningknight​ @spartanguard​ @thislassishooked​