#I’m already drinking raspberry tea sir

[nerdieforpedro]

What's "Dont Play With Me" about 👀👀

Bonus question: how do you go about naming your fics 🤔

Oddly enough, “Don’t play with me” was going to be an entire smut fest with Santiago Garcia (aka Oscar Isaac’s character) from Triple Frontier.

BUT

I watched Oscar singing a duet with Gaby Moreno called “Luna de Xelajú” which is a beautiful ballad. 🥰🥰🥰🥰

The link is here: https://youtu.be/XwtwN6gqwUA?si=OH6StfCiiR00evo6

So that man sung me out of smut and I’m making it fluff. THAT SAYS SO MUCH.

Not to say there won’t be Santi smut down the road, we’re in early January. There will be Santi smut! 👏🏽

Just his voice, the guitar, his curls, the beard SIR 🫠

Now your bonus question: My titles are place holders so I know which fic is which when I look through my ever expanding Google docs. They sometimes are the final title, but like I just did with another fic, after editing and re-reading it, I changed the title.

My titles usually start out as vibes. For example “Keep me warm” I wanted the reader to be someone who not only keeps Dieter warm in bed, but may bring him a little joy given that he’s somewhere he doesn’t want to be. 😝

“Din’s in the Neighborhood” is a reminder to myself that it’s a modern AU where Grogu will likely be a human child and more of a slice of life deal. I’ll give Din a slight break since I had my man working in and out of his beskar recently. Din wears hoodies and glasses. 🤓

As a final example, “Pleasure Principle” was influenced by me listening to Janet Jackson, I had re-watched ‘The Equalizer 2’ because my mom wanted to watch one and two before seeing three last year. I had thots about Dave York, I work in healthcare and I wanted to dabble in BDSM a bit more after lightly exploring it with Marcus Pike. Plus as the fic goes on, both Dave and Kiara are having what they believe to be their principles tested. I did try and tie it into something to be all extra 😭

I hope I answered both questions my dear! 💝

Let me know if you have more!

Love Nerdie ❤️❤️❤️

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just One Reason: When We Met

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn't end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

As you approach the sandwich shop, another pedestrian comes up from the other side. You open the door and hold it for them, waiting patiently for them to go first. The place isn’t very busy, you can wait an extra turn to get your food. 

The man barely acknowledges you as he enters. You’re used to that. In the city, manners run down the gutters with the rain and litter.  

You follow him inside. As he stomps to the counter, poking his ear in agitation, you stand back in a single-person queue. You check the chalkboard menu for the soups of the day. Oh, cabbage. They make the best cabbage soup you’ve ever had. 

You bounce on your heels as your gaze wanders over the monochrome wall art over the handcrafted wood tables. You open and close the flap of your crossbody purse. Your father always said you flutter like a hummingbird. Never quiet still and a little skittish. 

Behind the glaze of your distraction, the man’s deep snarl breaks through. You blink and lean to see around him. The cashier bats her lashes and puffs out her cheeks, “sorry sir, we discontinued the Mexican wrap, but the chipotle is similar--” 

“I don’t want the fucking chipotle,” he cups his ear and growls as he pushes his head into his hand.  

“They don’t send us the cilantro lime sauce anymore, sir,” the employee explains. “But I could add some peppers--” 

“Can’t you understand me?” He snips. 

“Erm, if you... if you put a bit of cilantro on, it would be close, wouldn’t it?” You ask, cringing as your thoughts spill out without intention. 

The man glares over his shoulder as his cheek pits derisively. He squints and shakes his head. He throws his arms out and faces the cashier again. “Whatever. Give me the damn chipotle with cilantro. I’m starving.” He reaches back for his wallet, “some fucking week...” he mutters. 

He slides the leather wallet above his pocket but it catches and falls from his grasp. He growls and bends to retrieve it. “Another fucking thing...” 

You watch him pick up his wallet and finger his ear again. It seems to cause him pain. The cashier watches helplessly. You feel bad for both of them. It just seems like a miscommunication. 

“Um, excuse me,” you wave two fingers at the cashier. “Can you add a cabbage soup and I’ll for both?” 

The employee blinks and the man snaps up with a scowl. They both stand in silent surprise. He finally shakes his head. “Why would you do that?” His tone makes it sound like an accusation. 

“I don’t know. Seems like you’re having a bad day and I can?” You shrug and cautiously step forward, “can I also get an iced raspberry tea?” 

“Uhhhh, sure,” the employee keys in the items. 

“Sir, did you want a drink?” You twist back to the man as he stands aside with a leery squint. He just shakes his head. 

“Alright, that’s everything. No cookie today,” you dig in your purse. “Debit, please.” 

She hits total and you pay. The receipt juts out of the machine and you step to the side to wait with one last thanks to the cashier. You tuck your card away and slip your phone out as your hands long to fidget. You know the man is staring, you can feel it, but you don’t want to piss him off even more than he already is. 

The lull that follow is torturous. The man’s wrap is up first and you wait for him to take it. He hesitates and you hand it to him. 

“I hope it’s still good,” you say with a smile at his throat. You’re too scared to look him in the eye. 

“You know I have money,” he grits. 

“Oh, no, that’s not... it isn’t... just a nice thing. Like, maybe one day you can pay it forward. I don’t know,” you rock sheepishly and look behind the counter. 

He nods and backs up. The cashier puts your soup up and your iced tea. You thank her and take your food.  

“Have a good one, sir.” 

You shuffle away to the table in the corner. You sit, self-conscious as the man lingers. Is he mad? You don’t think you were rude. 

The man sighs and goes up to the counter, “hey, look, I’m... sorry,” his words are stiff as if he could choke on them. “Thanks for the wrap.” 

“Oh, uh, okay, sir,” the cashier sounds shocked. “Um, enjoy.” 

You stir the soup and blow away the steam. As you scoop up a spoonful, the man approaches. You look at the velvet toes of his loafers then follow them up. He sits without invitation. 

You stare at him and lower your spoon. 

“Thanks for the wrap,” he says. “I was being a—jerk.” The last word is stunted as if he meant to say something else. “Mind if I eat with you?” 

You look around. The place is empty. You shrug. 

“Sure,” you grab the iced tea and swirl the ice. “Be nice to have company, I guess.” 

He hums and shifts in the chair. He peels away the wrapper and you sip from the straw. You put the cup down and stare into your soup. Your eyes flick up again and you find him staring. 

“Lloyd,” he offers his hand across the table, “but you can just call me that jackass who yells at people.” 

You give your name in return, his change in tone soothing your nerves. 

“You been here before?” He asks. 

“Once in a while,” you say. “When I can afford it. It’s a special treat. They have good soup.” 

He nods and looks down at the wrap, “yeah, food is pretty decent.” He lifts the wrap but doesn’t bite into it. He hovers it before him. “You know, you didn’t have to be nice to me.” 

“You never know what other people are going through. Sometimes, they just need some kindness,” you say. “And if they’re just a butthole, well, you’re not going to change that by matching their energy.” 

His brows arch, and he tilt his head. He sucks in his cheeks thoughtfully, “well, I think I’m just a butthole, as you put it. Thanks for giving me a chance.” 

You don’t know what to say. It’s awkward. You usually eat alone. You don’t have anyone to eat with, not since dad passed. Still, not all change is bad, is it? You’ve already faced the worst kind of change. 

You lean forward and take a bite of your soup. Sometimes making someone’s day easier makes your own a little brighter. As of late, none of them have been more than gloomy. 

[kraiyan]

i made my own little headcannons to fit in if michael and jeremy were dating and a bunch of other stuff that i don’t want to spoil so take my headcannons and please don’t pay attention to my overuse of the words ‘so’ and ‘like’

i wrote this headcannons for me in my notes so there are mentions of panic/anxiety attacks, light mentions of an eating disorder, nightmares, and self harm but i’ll just put a trigger warning for when those parts show up and if i missed anything that is triggering please let me know

- michael is trans and gay and jeremy is bisexual

- i think they would’ve been friends since kindergarten so they grew up telling each other EVERYTHING

- i feel like michael was really girly as a kid but in like 6th grade he just completely switched to like tomboy but he didn’t do on purpose it just happened

- then in seventh grade michael told jeremy he wanted to be a boy then after that with help from jeremy he came out to his moms

- michael had a crush in jeremy since 7th grade but i don’t think jeremy was his first crush

- i think since michael was straight when he was a girl he just assumed he was straight as a boy and his sexual awakening was captain sparklez

- michael has two moms and jeremys mom would’ve died in a car accident so it’s just him and his dad

- i imagine they confessed to each other in their second year of high school

- (TW: mentions of abuse) jeremy realized he liked michael in freshman year and it was really bad he could not stop thinking about him so when he got squip squip l would not stop punishing him for it

- so jeremy definitely has some problems with his bisexuality

- after years of pining for each other when they finally kissed jeremy could not stop panicking about it

- like they went to sleep fine but he was internally panicking and he tried to keep it together but the next day he absolutely broke just started sobbing saying over and over again “is this okay, are we okay”

- michael is the type to listen to a vulgar music to help his dysphoria

- so him and jeremy are in his car michael plugs in his phone and just starts singings “hoes want to be seen with me and i like their big thick titties”

- and jeremy can do nothing else but be like michael what the fuck

- they decided to keep their relationship a secret and not tell anyone bc of jeremy still coming to terms with himself and he didn’t think his dad would understand

- but i feel like michael moms had already pieced together that they were dating and jeremy didn’t mind that they knew bc they’re literally lesbians but every time jeremy came over from that point forward they had to keep their door open

-(TW: mention of an eating disorder) in a different angstier au jeremy would struggle with eating as a control thing after squip

- (TW: mention of an eating disorder) in an angstier au michael would have an eating disorder cause dysphoria

- i feel like once he realized he was trans he had really bad dysphoria but like with therapy and stuff he got over it

- so i think michael really liked afycso and had it on a vinyl and now jeremy knows all the words

- they don’t do anything at school because jeremy is still uncomfortable so they just pursuit their relationship between closed doors and michaels car in an empty parking lot

- i feel like they both got really excited when michael got referred to as sir for the first time

- jeremy and michael grew up together but ironically when puberty hit michael started to wear baggy clothes than he wore a binder than he wore super baggy clothes to hide his tits after coming out but during squip he had time to self reflect and work on his dysphoria so when jeremy saw michael outside of school he kinda said TITS and was so caught off guard by them

-(TW: mentions of self harm scars) i think michael has sh scars due to losing his childhood best friend and the whole panic attack in the bathroom thing and jeremys seen them but didn’t bring it up to michael because they’re fading so he obviously doesn’t do it anymore but it was a huge shock for jeremy to find out

- they never brought it up tho and it was never discussed bc who cares it was in the past

- michael pants his nails black and i think on some very rare occasion jeremy would paint his nails too (like the way karl paint his) and michael has lots of nail polish cuz on the rare occasion he paints his nails different colors and he repainted his nails every two weeks

- no matter how many times michael has changed in the same room as jeremy even let jeremy help take off his binder jeremy will never not get shy when he changes and will always ask to go into another room

- jeremy is a coffee person but not hot coffe because he always drinks it too early and burns his tongue

- he originally bought his hoodie™️ in really huge size to battle dysphoria but that just made the hoodie last for years

- jeremys name in michaels phone is something very gay and lovey and shit and michaels name on jeremys phone is just michael :)

- jeremy would come home all suspicious and and red faced after him and michael came from an empty parking lot that his dad would not stop begging him to meet this girlfriend of his

- i don’t think jeremy told his dad him and michael were playing a game or something and they kiss jeremys dad comes in and is like what 😦

-and his dad is shocked that he has been pushing girlfriend but he has a boyfriend and is just soooooo awkward about it and never sees michael the same but never makes any rules about them bc he doesn’t want to be homophobic 😭

- i don’t think he was really not supportive but it took him a bit to get used to it but it was so new to him and he was just so phased he just kinda talked to jeremy about his sexuality then left it at that

- they are like gendebend bubbline (marshal lee and the other one yk)

- michael has a queen vinyl the listen to a lot

- so i think michael would still smoke a bit and one time he convinced jeremy to do it with him and jeremy mainly coughed a lot then they just made out the rest of the time but they didn’t tell their parents they would be staying out after school and they both got in trouble

- michael gets blue raspberry and jeremy gets cherry but he also gets coke sometimes too (slushy flavors)

- at the beginning of their relationship they had to take it really slow so that jeremy would feel coqmfortable

- (TW: mentions of panic attacks) so jeremy has nightmares of squip and he wakes up having panic attacks and it’s really tiring bc he only gets 2 hours of sleep if he has these nightmares

- (TW: mentions of panic attacks) i feel like along with his nightmares he also had panic attacks that squip would punish him for pursuing a relationship with a guy let alone michael

- so after he got over his nightmares he just struggled with sleeping and nighttime in general like just fear around going to sleep

- so he often stayed up alll night to avoid sleeping and would like go to bed at 6 or on a good day 4 or 5

- so i think to get over his fear he had to make a routine first he would make some sort of hot drink or just water (mostly sleepy time tea) then he would text michael that he was going to sleep he also wears the same pajamas every time he goes to sleep just to make sure the routine really works then lastly he reads a comic book then he goes to bed

- i think the reason jeremy couldn’t sleep well after getting over the nightmares is because even if squip doesn’t haunt him enough to show up in his dreams anymore it still haunts him enough to stress him out constantly so he doesn’t sleep well

- to conclude the nightmare and sleeping saga jeremy basically has a night routine and sleeps with a night light

- i feel like they both go to therapy but we’re to scared to tell each other (and they both started going to therapy before they started dating)

- so fast forward they’re dating and are trying to plan a date and jeremys like i’m busy on monday at 1 and my dad needs me to help him with something on tuesday so how about wednesday at 3 and michaels like i have somewhere to be like at 3:30 and jeremys like where do you have to be and michaels like where do YOU have to be and so they count to three and say where they’re going to be and they both say therapy and then they’re like you go to therapy i think that would be so cute

- so michael has really thick glasses like his vision is awful so if jeremy is mad at michael he would wake up early and move his glasses over so michael would have to struggle to get out of bed and look for them with his poor ass vision

- he can see things right in front of his face but as soon as it moves a bit too far it’s blurry

- and speaking of his galsses if they’re really kissing along the way jeremy would take of his glasses so they could get closer to each other’s faces (like how elle and tao do in heartstopper )

- michael and jeremy have been friends way too long to not have practiced kissing with each other

- i think christine was a long time crush for jeremy so he definitely practiced kissing michael a lot since they were in 6th grade and michael was just soaking that shit up

- he’d be like what if she wants to make out we should practice that and jeremys like oh yeah you’re right and michael would be so freaking happy

- but they definitely got caught by jeremys dad and he laughed it off cause what else are you meant to when your 11 year old son and his 12 year old best friend are kissing each other

- they didn’t do it anymore after that cause they were soooooooooo embarrassed

- so i don’t talk about the rest of the characters but i’m about to make a headcannon including them so i’m gonna say my headcannons

- so chole is demisexual and panromantic

- brooke is a lesbian

- rich is bisexual and trans

- jake is pan

- jenna is questioning or straight

- and christine is aro/ace

- so i think jeremy and christine dated for a bit then christine broke up with him cause she was all like i can see the way you look at michael and also because she realized she was feeling intense platonic attraction not romantic

- and also i think they’re all friends so they have a group chat where they send homework answers and stuff

- so i think one time jeremy is doing his nighttime routine but this particular night he’s really tired so he texts michael goodnight bby <3 love u then skips the comic book reading and goes to bed but he sent it to their group chat so as soon as he got situated into bed all he hears is his phone going off so he has to check and it’s just everyone freaking out

- so he like fully sits up is looking at his phone in complete shock then realizes he never said a name so they are like who’s this mystery girl

- so he calls michael tells him about the situation then decides he’s ready to come out

- so the next day they’re more handsy then usual like jeremy wiped something off his face michael saw that he was cold and pulled him real close and their friends are like okayyyyy

- but mind you christine knew that jeremy liked michael so she knew exactly what was happening

- so at the end of the day their friend group is making plans to hang out but everyone was busy so jeremy goes well i’ll see you guys tomorrow waves at everyone kisses michael then starts walking to his house then michaels like yea i’m gonna head home to and like drives away and from that day forward their friends would not stop teasing them and were impressed they could keep there secret for so long

- so i feel like michaels moms both have jobs that run late so mom #1 is an er nurse and mom #2 is an account so this leaves michael a lot of time of being alone in his house so naturally you need to take advantage

- so one time mom #2 gets home and walks in just to see jeremy fully on the counter making out with her son

- i don’t think they got in trouble but his mom was like please not on the counter

- and then there was another time where mom #1 came home on her break cause she doesn’t live far from the er so she like yells to michael that she’s home

- and so naturally you come down to hug your mom so he comes down to greet his mom with a red faced jeremy behind him and his mom thought this was so fucking funny but as soon as she’s done laughing she immediately goes anytime jeremys over the doors open and that was the end of it

- everyone has this one thing that someone does that make them all blushy and stuff

- for jeremy it’s when michael wears fitting clothes cause michael is known to wear hoodies or just baggy clothes in general so when michael does get hot and needs to like put something on he puts on one of those body fitting v necks and jeremy losses his shit like he’s fully blushing and avoiding eye contact and since michael changed cause he was hot he’s sure that jeremy is so hot that his face is turning red and he’s embarrassed to say to take off his cardigan so the entire time jeremy is being full homo for his boyfriend michael is thinking he’s about to pass out from a heat stroke

- so i think jeremy enjoys this so much that for the first week of spring michael will only wear fitted clothes because jeremy loves it

- for michael it’s when he’s kissing jeremys neck and jeremy runs his hand thru his hair and pulls it a little when this happens michael loses all common sense one because jeremys enjoying himself so much that he has to kinda tug on michaels hair and two he’s enjoying it so much he doesn’t have time to think that squip is going to punish him and that makes michael just lose his mind so by the time they’ve pulled apart jeremy as sooooo many hickies and they both look at each other like what the fuck did we just do

- moving right along i feel like when jeremy wakes up at night and is terrified to go back to sleep if him and michael are sleeping together he will like hug him until he gets back to sleep and it works every time

- when they were like 7 jeremy got really sick with the flu and michael was so scared that he was going to die so he kissed him while he was sleeping because if his best friend was gonna die so was he and the next day he got really sick with the flu and jeremy would not stop crying because he thought that since michael refused to leave his side he got him sick…they’re idiots

- jeremy is the type to go to school with the worst fever ever he could throw up in the middle of the school day and still not go to the nurse and if he got sick during junior year forget it you had to strap him down to his bed if you wanted him to take a day off like michael had to sedecue him into staying in bed and taking medication so that he could feel better

[dershloop]

Breakfast In Bed

“Snowball! Happy Valentine’s day!” Cole yelled, kicking open Zane’s bedroom door, “I made you breakfast like the amazing, loving and caring boyfriend I am!” He said, walking over to his bed and standing over him.

“Cole, it’s 8 am,” Zane said plainly, rubbing his eyes with a yawn, looking up at his boyfriend and back at the clock next to his bed, that clearly stated it was too early to be awake, especially when it was a Sunday.

“Z, man, bro, dude, I’m begging you. Please eat the breakfast I made you,” Cole said, trying his best to mimic the expression of a kicked puppy.

“I never said I wouldn’t eat it, it’s just that it’s 8 am and you look like you’ve barely slept,” Zane said, sitting up and stretching out his arms out, rolling his shoulders back, listening as the sprockets and joints in his shoulders pop satisfyingly.

“So you will eat it?” Cole said excitedly, looking down nervously at the very full looking tray in his arms. Zane laughed endearingly and moved over in bed, patting the space he’d just been lay in as in indicator that Cole could get in with him and he’d eat breakfast. His eyes lit up and he dashed over, careful not to spill any of the food or coffee onto his white sheets. He lifted the tray off his own lap and placed it on Zane’s carefully. His eyes scanned over the tray, a proud smile growing on his face.

“You never answered the second part of the statement Cole. How much did you sleep last night?” Zane said, looking from the plate of very thick pancakes to the cup of jet black tea. The bowl of strawberries, blueberries and other assorted berries was overflowing, a few toppling out onto the tray itself. He had a feeling there wouldn’t be much fruit left in the monastery until the next big shop from the looks of things. There was however a pot of Zane’s favourite yoghurt. It was a thick greek style yoghurt in the flavour strawberry, with a spoon next to it. That was a nice touch, he thought.

“Not really, I couldn’t sleep,” Cole answered plainly with a shrug.

“Why not?”

“I didn’t have my teddy bear with me,” Cole said, smiling sweetly, resting his head on Zane’s shoulder. Zane laughed, heat beginning to rise to his face. He knew full well Cole was referring to him.

“Why didn’t you just get in bed with me?” Zane said, confused. The nindroid wouldn’t lie, he had had trouble getting to sleep too. He was so used to Cole coming and climbing in bed with him and filling half of his bed, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close that the lack of that last night almost made him sad. Needless to say, his bed had been very, undeniably cold.

“I didn’t want to get out of bed early tomorrow and disturb you! This was supposed to be a complete surprise and an alarm going off at 7 wouldn’t exactly help me.” “Fair, fair. What do you want me to try first then? Tea or the pancakes?” Zane asked, his hand hovering over the fork and knife on the side of the tray.

“Pancakes! You’d be surprised how long it takes to make them, the fuckers never cook evenly it’s so annoying. I only made 3 because they were pretty big so I didn’t want to make you puke or something. Wouldn’t be the best valentines day gift ever if you did,” Cole said with a yawn, pulling the covers up a bit to keep himself warm, not moving his head from Zane’s shoulder.

“Ok, pancakes it is,” Zane said enthusiastically, picking up the fork and pushing them through the small but thick stack, then grabbing some strawberry pieces and eating them with the pancakes. Nice… wasn’t exactly the word he’d use to describe them. Somewhere along the line, he’d forgotten an ingredient or a step but Zane couldn’t pinpoint where. How exactly did one mess up pancakes? However, Zane loved Cole a hell of a lot more than he disliked the taste of them, so powered on.

“And? What do you think?” Cole said, practically beaming that Zane had gone in so quickly for another bight.

“Delicious C,” Zane said, quickly swallowing down his third mouthful, “They’re amazing, so fluffy and uh… tasty!” Zane ate some more fruit with his next forkful, not wanting to subject himself to the taste for any longer than necessary.

“Are you sure? You don’t look as if you’re enjoying them that much,” Cole said hesitantly, raising his head to look at the nindroids face suspiciously.

“I promise you, Cole, they’re delicious. I’m just tired is all. I’ll have some of the tea, that might help wash it down and wake me up,” Zane said quickly, putting down the fork onto his plate and lifting up the tea, hesitantly bringing the cup to his mouth and drinking some. It wasn’t scolding hot, much to Zane’s surprise, and it didn’t taste too bad. A little sweet for his liking but he didn’t mind. Cole had a habit of zoning out and forgetting what he was doing halfway through a task, so he assumed that’s just what happened.

“How do you like the tea?” Cole asked, still not buying into the facade that his pancakes were any good.

“It’s lovely, rocky, I promise. All of this is. I really appreciate it,” Zane said with a smile, leaning towards Cole and pressing a small kiss onto his lips in an attempt to reassure him. Naturally, because this was Cole, it worked and he lay back happily, resting his head back on his shoulder.

Zane ate a few more mouthfuls, packed with fruit of course, before he decided to stop. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep up the facade of ‘Don’t worry, Love, they’re amazing’, so he ultimately decided to quit while he was ahead. He picked up the spoon and begun eating his yoghurt, savouring the taste of something that wasn’t whatever was in those pancakes. “Did I make too much? You didn’t finish them,” Cole said, looking at the plate with now significantly less pancake than there was a few minutes ago.

“Maybe. But that’s ok gumdrop, I still loved them,” Zane said, putting the now-empty pot down and finishing his tea.

“Popsicle? Snowball? Snowflake?” Cole said with pleading puppy dog eyes, looking at Zane as if he’d never eaten anything in his life.

“Yes, you can eat my leftovers,” Zane said with a laugh, handing him the tray. Cole’s eyes lit up and he picked up the fork, digging into the remained of the pancakes. Zane couldn’t help but think it was a bold move to go without any fruit, but he had to find out they were borderline uneatable somehow, and Zane knew for a fact it wouldn’t be from him breaking the unfortunate news.

Cole put the forkful of pancakes into his mouth, chewing them slowly, pulling a disgusted face before quickly swallowing and grabbing a few strawberries and raspberries to cleanse his mouth.

“That was genuinely disgusting, Z, what the fuck,” Cole said in disdain, looking at the half-empty plate, “Why didn’t you tell me?” Zane gulped and picked up the tray, moving it to the floor next to his bed so it wouldn’t get knocked over and spill over his white sheets.

“You were so excited and you barely slept because of it? I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” Zane said with a sigh, looking at Cole in his peripheral vision.

“Oh Snowball you, dummy,” Cole said with a laugh, wrapping his arms around Zane’s neck and throwing himself at him, causing Zane to fall so he was now lying horizontally across his bed. He laughed and wrapped his arms around Cole’s waist. “Move around Z, I want to hug you properly this isn’t comfortable,” He complained. Zane laughed.

“You sir, are a little shit. You threw yourself at me!”

“Silence! I won’t listen to this hearsay!” Cole declared.

“What would you do if I, for instance, didn’t shut up and just kept on talking?” Zane said, pushing himself up and spinning them both around so his back was now to his wall. He smirked, absentmindedly rubbing his hands up and down Cole’s back, merely anticipating what was about to happen.

“I would… do this!” Cole said, pulling himself up and beginning to plant kisses all over Zane’s face and neck. Zane laughed, more and more heat rising to his face.

“Cole you little shit, stop it!” Zane laughed, grabbing Cole’s face between his hands and holding it in front of his own, glaring playfully at him. Cole smiled sweetly as if he didn’t know exactly what he’d just done. “Come here you,” Zane muttered, pulling Cole’s face towards his own and pushed their lips together kissing him softly. Cole quickly sunk into the kiss, smiling and resting his hands on Zane’s waist softly as if he were holding some kind of priceless artefact. Which, in fairness, he was.

Zane pulled away with a smile, running his hands through Cole’s long, messy hair, bringing them to rest over his shoulders.

“Get back in bed, you feel cold and you look exhausted,” Zane said, raising his eyebrows at Cole.

“Wow, thank you for noticing,” Cole said with a yawn, climbing off of Zane’s lap and crawling under the covers. Zane lay back down too, pulling the covers up as to cover his own torso. Cole quickly snuggled up to his boyfriend, resting his head on his chest and listening to the mechanisms Wizz and whurr beneath his skin. Cole wrapped his arms around Zane’s torso and closed his eyes, already falling asleep. Zane rested a hand on his head, gently playing with his hair.

“Good night Snowflake,” Cole muttered wearily, melting under Zane’s fingers as they twirled and fiddled with his hair.

“Goodnight gumball,” Zane said with a small laugh, eventually even falling back to sleep himself.

[lilyvandersteen]

The Christmas Guest Chapter 7

Author’s Note: Apparently, when I’m suffering from insomnia, I write very sleepy chapters, where Klaine take naps and drift off at a moment’s notice. Wishful thinking on my part, but I’m glad Klaine at least are getting all the sleep they need. So, enjoy some pillow talk and sleepy cuddles, I guess :-)

Read Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 and Chapter 5, the Interlude and Chapter 6 here on Tumblr, or read the story on AO3 or FF.net.

Chapter 7: Nothing Better than the Real Thing

Kurt felt a soft warm hand caress his face and trace the contour of his body, and slowly stirred awake.

It was Blaine. Of course it was Blaine, they had been talking, but why was it so dark outside?

His muddled brain refused to work properly, but he did realize they’d have to get downstairs as soon as possible or his dad would think… Ugh, he didn’t want him to think anything like that ever.

He had meant to help Carole make dinner, but it was already done. His stepmom didn’t seem to mind, though, telling him a snowball fight and a nap after would cure that cold of his in a jiffy. And yes, he hadn’t been coughing or sniffling half as much as the day before, that was definitely true. But he’d been exhausted from the emotion more than the exercise that came before.

Kurt glanced at Blaine, who gave him a look that felt like a hug. A look that said, “Your secrets are safe with me”, and Kurt believed that was true.

As soon as they were all seated at the table, Blaine slipped his hand in Kurt’s and squeezed it lightly, the message of support more than clear, and Kurt sent him a grateful smile.

He didn’t fully cheer up until after dinner, when he got an invitation to Rachel’s New Year’s Eve party, but Finn nipped his joy about seeing his friends again in the bud by pointing out they’d all want to know everything about Blaine and how he and Kurt met.

Well. That was certainly true.

He saw Blaine’s eyes widen, his hands tremble and his color fade.

Oh, sweetie… I’ll make sure to keep you close at the party. I can bluff myself out of this. I’m good at improv. You have nothing to worry about.

But Blaine was truly rattled, and insisted on getting their story straight, so though it was still early, they both pleaded exhaustion and announced they were going to bed.

Burt fixed them with a stare. “If I let you sleep in the same bed, can I count on you behaving yourselves? No shenanigans!”

Blaine swallowed and nodded. “You have my word, sir… uhm, Burt.”

“Kurt?”

“Ugh, you’re embarrassing, Dad. But yes, I promise.”

Carole squeezed Kurt’s shoulder affectionately. “You do look beat. And no wonder, you’re still fighting against a cold. Yes, go to bed, and I’ll tell Finn to let you sleep in tomorrow. Do you need more lozenges for your throat?”

“No, I just drank about a gallon of chamomile tea, and my throat feels okay. Thanks, though. And goodnight.”

They escaped without any more comments from Burt, and Kurt slipped into his en-suite to shower and change into his pajamas, telling Blaine he could use the main bathroom in the meantime.

Sure enough, when he emerged in his bedroom again after his skincare regimen, Blaine was sitting on the bed, wearing neatly pressed pajamas and smelling like raspberries and aftershave. He was also on the verge of a panic attack, it seemed, so Kurt hastened to hug him and whisper “It will be okay.”

“Finn said…”

“I know what he said, and I’m sorry he got you so wound up. My friends are nosy, yes, but I can deal with them. We can deal with them. You’ll be fine. I’ll stay with you the whole night through, and when they’re too annoying, I’ll tell them to back off.”

Blaine didn’t look reassured. “I’d feel better if… If we had a story to tell them. About how we met.”

“All right, honey. Do you mind if I get under the duvet? I’m a bit cold.”

They both got under the covers, and Blaine wriggled until he was back in Kurt’s arms, which made Kurt smile and his heart beat a bit faster.

“So… We met at the coffee shop where you work?” Kurt suggested. “And I liked the bowtie you were wearing and complimented you on it. Oh, that is… If you… Do you wear bowties while working?”

“Sometimes, yes.”

“There you go! And you smiled at me, and I was smitten at once. You have such a lovely smile.”

“Thank you.”

Kurt continued, “So I kept coming back to your coffeeshop… Where is it, in fact? Somewhere near my school or where I live, I hope.”

“Oh, it’s near the Washington Square Park. It’s called Stumptown Coffee Roasters.”

Kurt perked up. “I’ve been there! They have the best chai lattes, I love those.”

“It’s the spices,” Blaine explained. “We make our own blend.”

“Well, brilliant. I’ve raved to Rachel about those chai lattes, so now I can tell her it wasn’t just for the drinks I went to that coffeeshop.”

“Okay. So then… what happened?”

“Hmm… We ran into each other somewhere outside the coffeeshop, and… You saved me and my quiff from a sudden rain squall by letting me shelter under your umbrella. I was so grateful I asked you out on the spot, and you said yes.”

“Oh, I like that,” said Blaine. “You’re really good at this.”

“Hours and hours of practice daydreaming. Might as well put it to good use for once.”

“So… when did this happen, exactly?” Blaine wanted to know.

“Oh, just a few weeks ago. We’ve only gone on one date so far, because you’re busy, and I’m busy. But then I went to the coffeeshop one last time before I’d be heading home to Ohio, and we got talking, as we always do, and you mentioned being all alone for Christmas, and I invited you home with me. It was a spur of the moment decision.”

Blaine laughed. “Well, that’s true enough!”

Kurt hummed in assent, and carded his fingers through Blaine’s curls, gently massaging his head. “I can be impulsive, yes. But inviting you is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I don’t regret it one bit.”

“Me neither.”

“Do you think we could…?”

“Keep in touch once we’re back in New York? Yes. Yes, please.”

Kurt was a bit taken aback by Blaine’s quick reaction. He’d meant to ask Blaine out on a date, but this sounded like he was being friend-zoned.

Oh. Not quite on the same wavelength, then.

Kurt took his hands away from Blaine’s hair, fake yawned and announced that he was about to fall asleep. He turned onto his side, said “Goodnight” and focused on making his breathing soft and slow and regular.

Next to him, he heard Blaine whisper “Goodnight, Kurt” and turn onto his side as well, taking away his body heat and making Kurt shiver a bit.

“Are you still cold?” Blaine asked.

“Mmm-hmm.”

Blaine shuffled closer and spooned Kurt, his presence warm and comforting, and at once Kurt felt a million times sleepier.

“Much better than a boyfriend pillow,” Kurt mumbled, tugging Blaine’s arm snugly around him.

Blaine laughed. “Nothing better than the real thing, right?”

Kurt didn’t answer. Seeing as they were only fake dating, there was no real thing. Or was there? Ugh, why had he made such a mess of things and allowed himself to catch feelings?

Behind him, he heard Blaine say “Sweet dreams”, and he felt a slight fleeting pressure on his neck. Had Blaine just kissed him?

Kurt suppressed a sigh. This was getting more and more confusing, but he hoped it would sort itself out in the end. In the meantime, he was going to imagine this was really his boyfriend spooning him in bed and keeping him toasty warm. It felt like heaven, and he was going to enjoy the experience to the fullest.

I could get used to this…

[luulapants]

Hale Royal Family AU - Part 1

@shey-elizabeth​ made this post:

”Me reading the Prince Harry-Meghan Markel royal family drama:

Wait… I think I read this fic already. (Starts scrolling through my AO3 history)

#random #royalty au #someone write me a steter fic #reading the news before coffee”

And, I mean, I don’t even need to be told to write Steter fics, but it damn sure helps.

Part 1: September 2014

Over the buzzing of his razor, Peter could just hear the soft knock that sounded on the bedroom door, followed by Stiles calling, “Come in!”

In the mirror, through the crack in the bathroom door, he saw the maid, Mrs. Larson, wheel in a tray of tea and, presumably, breakfast sandwiches or something of the sort. “How are you this morning, Master Stilinski?” she asked, a bit stiffly. Sixth months in, and the staff still didn’t know what to make of the barely-legal human suddenly lounging about like he owned the place.

“Peachy,” Stiles replied blithely, though Peter knew he was nursing a hangover that would have put a lesser man in the ground. “You can just leave the cart. He’s still primping, so who knows when he’ll actually get to his tea. Oh, hey, is that the paper?”

Peter heard Mrs. Larson leave as he patted on his aftershave. Nudging the bathroom door open the rest of the way, he saw Stiles, draped over a five thousand dollar leather settee like it was an old sofa in a frat house. He had one gangly leg slung over the back, the other stretched out on the floor. He hadn’t gotten dressed yet, still in nothing but a pair of black briefs and the utterly obscene red leather crop top he’d worn out the night before. Peter couldn’t imagine it had been comfortable to sleep in.

He regretted missing the look on Mrs. Larson’s face when she saw the state of him.

“Primping?” Peter echoed with a fond smile.

Stiles had the newspaper propped up on his chest. He looked over, and his eyes dragged shamelessly over Peter’s bare chest, down to the towel knotted at his waist, then back up to his face. “Primping,” Stiles affirmed.

“Did you find it yet?” Peter asked, gesturing to the paper. He walked over to stand behind Stiles so he could read along.

“Nope. Was just looking for it.” He started to flip through the sections haphazardly. “Op-Ed, Business, Business, Sports… ah! Society.” There, at the top of the society section, was a picture of Peter, a clip from the video interview he’d done yesterday. The top of the section read ‘Continued from Page 3.’ “Oh, shit, you made the big time,” Stiles muttered, quickly flipping back to the front sections.

Prince Peter Comes Out, Shocks The Nation

“Shocks the nation?” Stiles snorted, tapping his fingers against the headline. “Seriously, who is shocked by this? Do they know anything about you?”

Peter huffed and headed over to his closet. “I’m not that obvious,” he protested.

“You own a vineyard,” Stiles said.

“Plenty of straight people own vineyards.” Peter stepped into the closet, but left the door open so they could keep talking. He frowned thoughtfully at the shirts hanging just inside the door.

“You own paisley pants.”

Peter poked his head out of the closet. “You promised you wouldn’t bring those up again,” he snapped.

“You have an entire section of your closet dedicated to vests!”

Peter sighed and went back to staring down his wardrobe. “Yes, well, they have to hang, Stiles. You can’t fold them up in a drawer.”

“What I’m saying is that no one in this entire world should be shocked that you’re gay.”

Pulling down two Oxford shirts, one blue-gray and the other burgundy, Peter stepped back out into the room, holding them up. “Which one?”

Stiles glanced between them with a frown. “What are you dressing for?”

“Existing,” Peter drawled, “as a shockingly gay member of royal society.” Stiles lifted an eyebrow at him in judgment, and he added, “And dinner at Talia’s later.”

“The blue,” Stiles decided, then gave him a cheeky grin. “And wear a vest.”

Talia’s butler bowed as he opened the front door with a subdued, “Your Highness, welcome.”

“Mr. Boyd,” Peter greeted as he stepped into the entryway. “How are your boys doing?”

“Very well, sir. Vernon is in his last year at USC. He’ll be graduating with honors.”

“How wonderful.”

“Her Majesty is a bit delayed and gives her apologies. She asked that you wait in the solarium, where she will be with you shortly.”

“Of course,” Peter agreed, biting the inside of his cheek to hold the false smile on his lips. His sister liked to make him wait, especially when she was angry with him.

The Beacon Hills Manor had always been too stern for Peter’s taste. The entryway opened to a dark-stained double staircase with wolves carved into the handrails, frozen mid-leap with their ivory teeth bared and garnets glinting in their eyes.

He walked between them, through a massive gallery lined with imposing portraits of long-dead relatives. They had frightened him as a child, the way they all seemed to gaze downward at him, their huge faces drawn into ferocious expressions that seemed judgmental at best, furious at worst.

At the end of the gallery, he passed through a set of over-sized wooden doors inlaid with copper triskelions. The solarium always felt humid, just short of stifling. Outside the glass walls, the summer garden sprawled outward in shocking beauty. Inside, orchids and vining plants hung from the ceiling and various tropical plants framed the delicate wicker furniture.

They had lived in this house only briefly, when Peter was ten years old, Talia already moved out and in graduate school. He had hated it here, hated the isolation of Beacon Hills and the loneliness of roaming the woods by himself, all of the cousins and his other friends back in San Francisco. Talia had liked the location for raising her family, though, set far back in the woods where her children could shift and run freely without fear of being harassed by the press.

Peter sat on the wicker couch, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt as a maid hurried in with a glass of iced tea. Peter thanked her and pulled out his phone. He already had a text from Stiles.

How’s Beacon Thrills?

Stiles, by some coincidence, had grown up in Beacon Hills, but he hadn’t even been born yet when Peter lived here. Even then, it would have been unlikely for them to ever interact. Even werewolves not of royal lineage tended to live apart from human society. Peter had attended private schools and taken lessons with private tutors. Stiles had gone to the local public school.

Her Majesty is making me wait in the greenhouse. She’s literally letting me sweat it out.

He was so focused on tapping out his response that he didn’t hear his sister come in until she said, “And what’s that smile about?”

Peter realized, with some irritation, that he was smiling like an idiot at his phone. He schooled his expression into something prim as he looked up, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Why, the thought of your arrival, of course,” he replied.

“Resorting to flattery already?” Talia stood just inside the doorway, an eyebrow raised and her lips twisted into a smirk. She wore white linen pants and a deep purple blouse that matched her flats. Her eyes flashed red, and his shone blue in response. They stared each other down for a long moment before, at once, they both broke into soft laughter.

Rising from his seat, Peter crossed the room and hugged her around the middle, lifting her from her feet just briefly. He kissed her cheek as he set her down, and she returned the gesture. “It’s nice to see you, Talia.”

She pinched his cheek. “I wish we could do this when it’s not about you giving ulcers to an entire staff of publicity agents.”

Peter spun on his heel, walking back to the sitting area. “Oh, for God’s sake, I don’t know what everyone is so up in arms about. It can’t be such a terrible shock. I own a vineyard and an unholy amount of vests.” He dropped back onto the couch with an exhausted huff.

“It was always going to be a big deal, Peter,” Talia chided, following and sitting in the chair opposite him. “We’re the first generation that could even dream about going public with this. Besides, you know how the press likes to make a fuss.”

“Well, it will all settle down soon enough,” Peter insisted, waving a careless hand and picking up his iced tea. Another maid came in with a drink for Talia – raspberry lemonade, by the smell of it.

“You could have handled the interview a bit better.” She took a sip of her drink, glaring at him over the top of her glass.

It had been a standard catching-up-with-the-royals sort of thing. Peter had been prepared to talk about his business ventures, his house, his vineyard – hell, even his cat. Instead, they’d asked when he thought he would be ready to find a woman and settle down.

“What was I supposed to do? Lie and say I hadn’t found the right one? Apologize for dashing their hopes of more royal babies?” What he had said was, ‘Well, I’m gay, so I’m going to say ‘never’.’ The startled look on the interviewer’s face had been the highlight of his year so far.

“I suppose tact would have been too much to ask for,” Talia laughed softly. She shook her head, but she looked fond. “Anyway, it will blow over as long as you keep your head down and don’t go causing a scandal right after it. You know how the royal watchers get once they have their eyes on someone.”

Peter slouched back in his chair, swirling his glass idly in his hand. “And what sort of scandal do you suppose I would make?”

Talia stared at him for a long moment, lips pursed, and he recognized it as her ‘diplomacy face.’ Weighing her words before she spoke. Finally, she said, “I hear that human boy is still hanging around quite a lot.”

“Stiles?” Peter shrugged a lazy shoulder. “Sure. We’re friends.”

“Peter. Come on, you know how it’s going to look. He’s half your age.”

“He’s not half my age,” Peter argued. “He’s nineteen. That’s at least sixty percent of my age.”

“Thought about it that much, hmm?” she teased. When Peter didn’t have a reply beyond a glare, she pressed on. “He’s human. He’s inappropriately young. He’s not from any sort of notable background. If the press catch wind of him, they’ll have a field day.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “It’s innocent, honestly. He’s an interesting person that I enjoy spending time with. There’s nothing romantic about it.”

Talia looked skeptical. “So, what, you’ve taken him under your wing? Brought home a stray?”

“The opposite is closer to the truth, honestly,” Peter admitted.

It had been his first night sneaking out to a gay club. Thirty-two years old – and how sad was that? Peter had always been too wary of being recognized or mobbed by paparazzi.

It was mostly a human club, which lowered his chances of being recognized somewhat, but plenty of humans followed and fawned over werewolf royalty. Werewolves in Europe at least got to split attention with the human royal families. Here in the states, the Hales received the full and brutal fixation of the royal watchers.

Peter put on heavy eye makeup and wore his hair loose and curly, instead of gelled back, as he usually wore it. Checking himself in the mirror before going out, Peter had hardly recognized himself.

When he got to the club, he felt a little lost at first. He got himself a wolfsbane drink and nursed it, eyeing the dance floor uncertainly.

“You look like you’re new!” a voice yelled over the noise. Peter stifled a wince. He could have heard just fine at normal speaking volume. When Peter turned, there he was: loose-limbed and joyful in nothing but a pair of skinny jeans and sneakers. Bits of glitter stuck to his abdomen.

Peter leaned closer to him. “You look like you’re new,” he shot back. “There’s no way you’re old enough to be in here.”

The boy laughed and sidled up close, chest-to-chest. Against Peter’s ear, he said, “I’m Stiles.”

They spent a couple of hours dancing and drinking, both of them getting looser as the night went on, touching and laughing more freely. On the dance floor, Peter got a thigh between Stiles’s legs. Stiles ground onto it, wound his arms around Peter’s neck, and kissed him.

They were making out when the fire alarm sounded. Peter doubled over at the noise, hands clasped over his ears. The lights came up, and the sprinklers overhead went off almost immediately, dousing the crowd and dredging up a new wave of noise as people shrieked and pushed for the exits.

When Peter looked up, Stiles was standing next to him, a hand on Peter’s shoulder, surveying the chaos with a frown. His hair was already drenched, slicked down to his forehead. He looked at Peter, swore, then bent down to speak softly in his ear. “We have to get you out of here. Someone’s gonna recognize you.”

The next thing Peter knew, they were on the back patio, scaling the fence to jump into the adjacent alleyway. The winter had started to loosen its grasp lately, but this late at night, drenched to the bone, Peter felt the chill coming on fast. He couldn’t imagine how bad it would be for a human. Stiles grabbed his hand and headed off down the alley at a jog.

“Where are we going?” Peter asked, the first in a long list of questions whizzing through his head. Had Stiles known who he was all along? Why hadn’t he said anything? Was he going to tell anyone?

“My place,” Stiles said. “It’s just a block and a half, and my roommates are out of town. Don’t worry.”

Peter should have been worried. He should have been terrified and calling security staff to come and retrieve him.

Instead, he followed Stiles home to a shitty, tiny three-bedroom apartment. They dried off and made hot chocolate and microwave taquitos. They stayed up all night, just talking. They talked about everything. Their lives, their histories, their friends and families, their fears.

There was a moment that night.

Stiles had been lying on the floor with his feet on the couch, his head pillowed on Peter’s calf. A mosaic glass lamp, hung in the corner of the room, cast shadows of blue and gold over his face. Peter had told Stiles his many reasons for keeping his sexuality out of the press, and Stiles listened quietly until he had poured out his every thought on the matter.

Stiles folded his hands on his stomach and stared up at the ceiling. “You know, the way I think about it, it’s all about power. You’re supposed to sit there and wait for someone to make a judgment on you. Will they accept you or won’t they? That’s the set-up. You bare your soul and wait for them to judge it.”

“So then should you just not do it? Keep things to yourself?” Peter asked.

“Nah, you take the power back. Decide what is and isn’t an acceptable response to you coming out, and you judge them right back. Anyone that isn’t a fucking delight when you come out? Kick ‘em to the curb.” He kicked the back of the couch with a smug little expression.

Stroking his fingers through Stiles’s hair, Peter wished he could have half the brassy courage this boy had. “Is that what you did?” he asked.

Stiles laughed, and the sound bubbled through the room like energy. “No, I cried like a baby. But it’s what I’d do if I could do it again.” He sighed and looked up at Peter, eyes tired but creased with a smile at the corners. “If you decide to come out, promise you won’t give them the power, okay?”

Peter stared down at his face, at his earnest concern for a werewolf royal, of all people. For someone he didn’t even know. For a terrifying moment, he thought, I could fall in love with him. Then he shook the thought off, set it aside.

He had never had a best friend before. The werewolf nobility Peter had spent his whole life surrounded by were shameless ladder climbers, social strategists and politicians. Stiles had a best friend growing up, Scott, but they had started to grow apart since Scott went out of state for college. Over the course of a few months, he and Stiles become nearly inseparable.

Maybe it should have been weird, what with the age gap and their radically different backgrounds. Peter had grown up in multi-million dollar mansions, waited on by service staff and trailed by body guards. Stiles had grown up in an understaffed sheriff’s department, doing his math homework in vacant interrogation rooms because his dad couldn’t afford a babysitter as often as he needed one.

But Stiles was funny and sharp as a whip, earnest and passionate. He never once treated Peter like royalty. He pushed him out of his comfort zone and called him on his bullshit, and Peter adored him for it.

If Talia thought he could just call that off, she was crazy.

[who-is-reign]

Hello, hi, hey

Hi I did a short writing thing- here it is!!

Everything starts with a hello, a hi, a hey. A greeting of some kind. Ours started with something else. It started with a trip, a lot of apologies, and crying. Though I feel like I should probably start at the beginning. That makes more sense anyway.

It all started on what I knew was not going to be a normal day. The day started with two pieces of toast, 3 slices of peaches, and a mug of earl grey tea. Or what I was hoping to be a mug of earl grey tea. I poured the rest of what was left of my mug into a thermos and walked out the door. 

3 stairs, take a left, 5 steps forward to the next stairwell. 10 steps down, 5 breathes, 2 stops I could have taken, 7 doors I could see. I ran to my car, even if it was only 5 feet away. 

30 minutes and a coffee stop later, I was at work. I work at a publishing firm as the executive editor. I have been there since the start of this company, Indigo Query. I helped with the name of course. Most of the books that I edited are Best Sellers right now. I can’t say I’m not proud of that. 

Today is the release date of the first book I wrote. I have babied this book for 4 years. All of the characters are complex and have their own stories. I tried to make it to where there weren’t any background characters. To where there were stories going on behind the scenes, or the main focus of the chapter. It is 1563 pages, 12 pt. Times New Roman font, 468900 words. This book is my literal child. I have had these characters since I was in 6th grade. I only started seriously writing out their story in the last 4 years. 

I just realized that you know nothing about me. Maybe that’s for the best. You’ll find out later anyway.

I walked in, went through the cafe, up the elevator, through the small library. I was there, and my book was there. On my desk, I saw a hardcover copy of my book. I almost started crying. Okay, I did start crying. That art was my choice, it was made by one of my oldest friends. I carefully picked up the book, letting my hands run over the almost woven texture of the cover, the embellished sides, and the title. Lastly, my name, small in white coloring. I turned to the copyright page and breathed in. My name is listed as the author and editor. My best friend’s listed as the cover artist. This is what I was meant to do. Write books, edit books, publish books.

I put the book down, I couldn’t read it. Not yet. I needed to meet with Leo Adams, president of the company. He is not the original president, he took over after the old president passed. I personally am not a fan of his. I think he is corrupt and doesn’t deserve the company. The only thing I can hope is that one day this company, my home, will get a better president. The only reason I stayed with this company, is because of my book. I could leave if I wanted to, other publishing companies have asked if I wanted to sign for them. 

But I have something in my eyes, something I can’t give up. I want to own Indigo Query. I want to own the thing I love more than anything. This company is my life, my livelihood. I hate seeing a man who doesn’t care about books be in charge of it. I need to save the company I have over a decade of time into. But right now, it is my time. My book is getting released.

I need to focus on that and nothing else. I need to work, that’s what I need to do. What I want doesn’t matter right now, and it won’t matter for a while. 

I walked as fast as a caffeinated lesbian could without it being considered running to Leo’s office. 

“Ms. Kore, it’s fantastic to see you. And of course congrats on the book release, it looks fantastic already.” Leo’s words drawled on, a slight curve to his phrases. I hated it.

“Of course sir, I couldn’t have had this book released without you,” I replied, trying desperately to keep the ill intent out of my voice. 

What I didn’t say, was that of course, I couldn’t have had this book released without you. Even with you, there were so many issues with getting it released. Including the date getting pushed back 6 months. I could have had this book out, and sold by now. But no, he said it was too problematic. It took all of the editors, our cover designers, the VP of the company, and basically everyone to get him to allow it to be sold. 

“Though Ms. Kore, I must tell you, I really do not think this book will thrive that much. I just do not want to see you getting hurt. Take the day off, you need to.” I almost scoffed once he said that, but I really only muttered thank you and walked out of the office.

I practically ran to one of my coworker’s desks and sighed completely and utterly overdramatically. This coworker has been my friend since high school and they helped found the company. They also know about my aspiration to own  Indigo Query.

“Oliver, I can’t believe him. He literally said that he didn’t think my book would work out and that he just didn’t want me to get hurt.” I groaned and tried to not sound whiny, though I know I did.

“Babe, that is so horrid but also you are so close to literally owning this company. You are so close, and you can’t lose sight of what you have done because our boss is horrible.” I know they’re right, and I am really close, but I need a break. 

“I’m leaving for the day, Adams said I had to.” I sighed.

“Girl you have been here for less than an hour, sit down.” Oliver raised their eyebrows and practically forced me to sit at my desk.

I just rolled my eyes and got to work on a new manuscript that came in today. It wasn’t long before my eyes felt like they were going to burst from my head. 

“I’m taking a coffee and tea run. Want anything?” I closed the manuscript, my question aimed for Oliver who was holding a red pen and had a red pen tied up in their hair.

“Yes, yes, and yes please darling. You know my order anywhere.” And they were right, their order hasn’t changed since freshman year. Unlike everything else. Oliver used to be really shy, with red curly hair, they didn’t have confidence. And now they talk or flirt with everyone, have longer sunset ombre hair, and have more confidence. I’m proud of them.

I walked out of the building and to the nearest cafe. I ordered Oliver’s, which was a matcha latte with added raspberry syrup, apparently, it was amazing. Then I got a London fog earl grey tea with extra vanilla syrup.

 I noticed the cafe had a small bookstore and I walked over there after ordering. I saw something that warmed my heart, my book. I inhaled deeply in shock, already a small bookstore had my book in it. I grabbed a copy and read through some of it. My words, my characters, my world. I get now why it is such a big deal for Oliver every time they see a book they wrote. I only walked away when I heard my name getting called. I grabbed both of the cups and walked away, saying thank you many times.

Close to the door, the not so impossible happened. Someone ran into me, my tea spilled everywhere. Oliver’s drink ended up being safe somehow. 

“I am so sorry, I can’t believe myself, I’m so sorry. Deeply sorry. Let me help.” The person who ran into me sputtered out.

“Don’t be sorry it was an accident, it is okay,” I say looking at them softly.

They had hair a little bit longer than their shoulders, it was a coppery red. Their eyes were a shade of amber. That was when I realized. 

“Laurette?” I asked, stunned that this may be her.

“Yeah? Do I know-- Persephone!” Laurette hugged me and sighed. “It’s fantastic to see you!”

“Good to see you too. What are you doing these days?” 

“Oh! I’m living with Ophelia with our kid. I’m a fashion designer and she is a daycare owner. So she gets her share of kids every day. What about you?” as Ophelia spoke I could practically feel her love for her wife. 

“That is fantastic! I’m the chief editor and now an author for a publishing company called Indigo Query. My first book got released today actually. I work with Oliver Evanora.” I was filled to the brim with pride. 

“Really? Congrats! I bet the book is amazing! I’ll have to check it out sometime. Tell Oliver I said hi. ” Laurette sighed happily, “Well, it’s been great seeing you, I’m so sorry about the tea. I hope to bump into each other again.” 

I smiled and went back up to the counter to grab the tea they remade, gave them a 10 dollar tip, and left. A newfound pleasure seeped through me. I walked back to the office, careful not to spill anything. I gave Oliver their drink and went straight back to work.

4 hours later and the clock showed 5 pm, the day that I had been waiting for years to happen was over. Since I needed desperately to get home, I made Oliver give me a ride home.

“Why didn’t you drive to work? You have a car.” Oliver asked when they were in their car.

“Because I wanted to walk.” 

“It’s winter, it is dark at like 4. You can’t walk home when it’s dark. We live in a city, girl.”

I just sighed, they were right anyway. I didn’t think it through.

“Want to get food?” They asked, “Cause I am starving!”

“Nah, I’ve got to get home.”

“Ok girl, whatever you deem useful,” Oliver said, already pulling down my street.

“Thank you so much! Oh and by the way Laurette said hi.” I said as I shut the door.

  I went inside and set water on to boil. I started stirring the water clockwise and humming a distant melody. It was almost time. The water started to bubble like an ancient potion that had just been given the final ingredient. I poured the water over a mug, grabbed a tea bag, and let it seep. At this point, the stars were already out and thriving. 

After a quick 5 minutes, I grabbed my mug and walked outside into my backyard. I went directly to my shed. My shed was more of my office than a shed. It had a typewriter, my laptop, a shelf filled with different types of teas or coffee. Plants were scattered about, my desk had a big fluffy white chair pushed up to it. Everything was a pastel blue, pink, or white. It didn’t really seem like it was mine, but it was. And it’s more of a home to me than my room is. 

I sighed as I sat down on my mug, put on gardening gloves, and grabbed my spade. I went outside and started to get to work. I planted a new rose bush, I replanted my lemon tree that's growing out of their pot. I moved my ever-growing cherry tree to where they’ll get better sun. 

All of this I did while humming, or singing in some parts. I am the type of person to sing and talk to my plants. I am also the type of person to own 3 trees and more plants than I can count.

I heard a bang and I flinched, my entire body froze in place, as if any movement would cost me my life.

“Is anyone there?” I whispered, barely to where anyone could hear it.

“Hello, darling” When I heard Oliver’s voice I calmed down, “sorry to scare you babe, but you seem stressed. Thought I’d help.”

“It’s okay, Oli.” I sighed, already putting my spade and gloves away. “So, how did you plan to calm me down?”

“Stargazing with some people from high school,” Oliver replied, smiling.

“Like who?”

“Kira, Raven, Laurette, Ophelia, Lilith--” Oliver was about to continue but I cut them off.

“Okay, I get it, almost everyone. Let’s go.” I said, laughing, “Let me change first.”

Five minutes later I was in Oliver’s car wearing a star printed black layered lace dress and 4-inch heeled black boots.

“Let’s go! I wonder if they all brought their kids! Oh, I can’t wait to see Sabrina or even Litha! I miss my coven friends.” Oliver used to be in a coven at school, it broke up after our senior year.

“Where is the place we’re going anyway?” I asked, playing with my acrylics. 

“It’s only 30 minutes away, a small little cabin. Though, we are staying for a week. I took all the clothes that are yours at my house, it’s enough for 7 days. Plus they all look great.” 

“What about work?!”My yells could probably be heard by our high school friends.

“I got it covered babe, don’t worry,” Oliver said in a sing-song tone. 

“Got it covered? Um, no. My book just got released, I need to be in town.”

“Honey, your book is already almost sold out at 3 stores. I only bought one copy. Your child will be fine.” Oliver sighed as he looked at me, “You need this. More than any of us do. So, I dragged you into the countryside to look at stars and hang out with people from our high school. Don’t you want to see everyone’s kids? I’m pretty sure Ophelia and Laurette are bringing theirs.”

“Okay, fine. I do need this, don’t I?” I pulled out my phone and breathed in.

‘I need this, I need a break. 7 days hanging out with old friends will give that to me.’ I thought as I mindlessly scrolled through twitter.

Then I came across this,

‘Jdjisddsj this book came out today! I already love it! #ScarletDreams #Persephonekore’

“Holy bees, Scarlet Dreams is trending in the literature section on twitter.”

“That’s fantastic, but we’re here.” I looked up and saw a cottage with wildflowers surrounding it, two beehives sitting among the flowers, a few kids running through fields. 

We parked next to where a collection of other cars were. Immediately I was pulled into a hug by Ophelia and Laurette.  

“I missed you!” Ophelia exclaimed as she pulled away, her child pulling at her sleeve.

“I missed you guys too, it’s fantastic to see you.” 

Oliver looked at me, then to everyone and said: “Was I right? Did you need this?”.

I could practically see his fear of him making a mistake, a dark sludge crawling through him, pulling him down and towards his own Tartarus. 

“Yeah Oli, I really did. Work was starting to hurt a little.”

A group of three people left the cabin, they were all holding hands and walking right next to each other.

“Oh, hello. I’m Cassandra. I don’t remember you from high school” She said her last sentence more like an inviting question than a statement.

“Hi, I’m Persephone, I didn’t really talk to many people other than who I knew so I can’t expect you to remember me.” I ended my statement with a small laugh, trying to match her tranquillity.

“Babe, you said there wouldn’t be that many people” The person who spoke was as far behind Cassandra and they could be while still holding her hand.

“I wanted you to come, plus I didn’t that many people would show up, darling.” Cassandra's voice was somehow softer than it was before, it seemed as soft as flower petals blooming out to show a beautiful rose. 

Or rather the sun urging a rose to show it’s own beauty. Cassandra’s red hair had so much volume it seemed to live on its own, like a red fox laid over her shoulder. She was wearing a vintage lace dress that was white with roses on it, you could tell a petticoat was hiding beneath the layers of the dress from how it poofed out. Her cheeks were a rosy red, and her eyes had pink eyeshadow flowing out from them. Her eyeliner wings were sharp enough to stab, and honestly, I wanted her to stab me with them.

As soon as I realized what I was thinking I felt guilty, though I wasn’t sure why.

A voice snapped me out of my thoughts, “Hi, I’m Jade!” said the other person next to Cassandra.

Her hair was a really big fluffy black braid, purple threaded itself through the braid, and blue and green followed. The braid went to her lower back and was tied with what I thought was a gold string. A black mini dress hugged her sides. A light pink fluffy jacket was partially zipped and fell off her shoulders.  The dress went to her lower thighs, then a few inches down my eyes trailed down to her light pink knee-high boots. 

“Take a picture and it will last longer darling,” Jade said, the tone of her voice playful yet held enough flirtiness to send shivers up my spine and turn my face red. 

“Darling, let's not immediately start to flirt with the new girl. Let’s not kill her on the first day here.” Cassandra spoke, her tone matching Jade’s.

The one who has stayed behind Cassandra the entire time stepped forward, appearing to gain confidence from my embarrassment. 

“Why not? She may hold up longer than I did.” They said, their voice was soft yet firm. It held together like a cactus in heavy wind, trying to keep its grip. I felt like that’s the type of person they were, a cactus. Harsh on the outside with spikes and a few flowers to lure you in, but held water and healing on the inside.

I knew my face was painted a shade that countered everything around me and the dress that now seemed to hug me instead of flow around me. Like the petals of a tulip instead of an orchid. My heart sped up and I felt frail, yet held stable by these people who I had only met what seemed hours ago but what I knew was minutes, or even seconds that had just been drawn out to a century. 

Then coughing erupted into my thoughts as Oliver shimmed their way in between me and the group, “Let’s go inside, I need warmth.”

“It’s not even cold” I sighed.

“Whatever,” They said as they already started towards the cottage.

As soon as people realized that Oliver had started to walk away, people hurried to follow them. That was Oliver for ya, they could sure direct a crowd.

[s-j-ace]

New Plan!

Characters: Shuichi Saihara, Ouma Kokichi

Words: 9,119

Summary:

Kokichi Ouma, leader of the mysterious group of thieves that go only by DICE, is going through the motions of orchestrating their biggest heist ever when an unexpected bump in the road changes everything. That bump in the road is a detective and his name is Shuichi Saihara.

Essentially the events of That’s the Thing About Airplanes from Kokichi’s POV

Read on AO3

Kokichi Ouma was ready to be bored out of his mind for the next eight hours as he boarded the flight behind his motley crew.  He was trying to keep himself busy by being generally exasperated with them. They were supposed to be posing as different family units or strangers that didn’t know one another, but King was supposed to be Rook’s uncle and they were touching each other’s butts while handing the lady their boarding passes. Bishop and Hearts were practically leaning on each other like they were tired or whatever, but they were supposed to be total strangers. Maybe they could be rewritten as half siblings or a whirlwind romance or something? Ugh whatever.

Kokichi would normally kick their asses about this, but he’d already anticipated their horrid 2 AM acting skills. The lady taking boarding passes was a plant. Jack had wriggled herself in as a flight attendant three days ago. She was currently taking boarding passes because of an understaffing issue. An issue that may or may not have been of natural causes... 

Anyway, she’d get on the flight and smuggle the tea on board. The heist plan didn’t really involve the plane at all, so this was kind of unnecessary, but god would he want that half-way to Paris hot tea party. Besides, he wasn’t really one to leave much to chance when it came to scheming. Although that characteristic was more out of habit than any sort of innate perfectionistic tendencies. He was a king of thinking on the fly, but nowadays he rarely ran amok in that court because he just so happened to also be just as much of a genius at premeditated mischief.

It was a good thing Jack had volunteered herself for the plant job. He’d call her the most competent of DICE at 2 AM if she hadn’t drawn a dick on his boarding pass while checking it.

“Wow, it’s almost like you’ve actually seen one, you virgin loser.” He had told her as he tucked the pass into his hoodie pocket. 

She smiled at him like he had complimented her handwriting or something inane like that. “Thanks! I’ve been working on my portraits. My boss is a real inspiration in my art you know…”

“I’d love to meet him someday,” Kokichi replied congenially, “He sounds handsome and brilliant and like he should always be listened to.”

She gave a thoughtful humm, “Actually he’s kind of a prick.” She blew a raspberry at him.

He frowned. “Well that’s rude,” he commented with an offended tone, “And out of character.” He shifted to an angrier persona. "Do you want to ruin everything?" Maybe it wasn’t entirely persona, he was a little tired too after all.

“Relax boss,” Jack said, looking at the screen in front of her with all the boarding information, “It says here you’re the last passenger.”

To be honest Kokichi’s concern-o-meter for this heist was in the negatives. He was pretty much bored by how well thought out this plan was, but he felt like he had to make a point and he was rarely ever honest besides.

Kokichi huffed moodily. “Yeah sure, but what if that detective from the smithsonian, like, stole the security camera footage from this airport or something totally plausible like that.”

He was kind of planning this conversation out a couple steps ahead. He did that sometimes, when he was bored. She’d refute him by calling the detective a goody-two-shoes or something and he’d say something about caution and she’d dismiss him and then something would pop up later where he could say ‘I told you so’ and re-establish his authority. The same happened when Ace wanted to prove how buff he was by lifting the mammoth bones from the Smithsonian. They'd had to stash it insecurely and the police got to it before they could come back for it later. That was a big ‘I told you so’ moment and as a result no one questioned him on his plans for the Louvre this time around.

Weirdly enough, his conversation forecast did not come to pass this time around.

Jack frowned, looking at the screen. “Hey, what was that guy’s name again? The guy from the Smithsonian.”

Kokichi frowned. “What, the mammoth?”

“No, like, the detective.”

Kokichi squinted at her. He was an evil mastermind, he could recall the exact angle of every laser scanner in the Louvre, of course he could remember the name of some guy. Shuichi Saihara. The novice detective whose dumb friend had tripped that allarm the night of the Smithsonian heist. They’d only had three minutes to get out with the picture frames and hide the mammoth because of him. The detective had showed up at a couple heists and had gotten in the paper, but honestly the mammoth thing was a bit of a fluke. They really hadn’t had a lot of time to stash it. Overall not a big deal.

Which was why it was weird that happy-go-lucky Jack of all people was bringing him up.

“What about him?”

“He’s, like, on the flight I think.” 

She showed him the screen and sure enough, Shuichi Saihara was sitting in economy class by the emergency exits. Well, it didn’t really say that on the screen, but given his seat number Kokichi could triangulate it from the diagram of the plane he had memorized. Not that he had really needed to that, but… wait… what if he did need to...

A light bulb went on in Kokichi’s head. In cartoons lightbulbs were just a little blink that meant a switch had flipped for a single eureka moment, but for Kokichi it was more like the real life current of electricity as all of the steps of a brand new heist plan tripped over each other to course through his mind. He forgot to be bored for a second as his brain was lit up with a new scheme and all the possible scenarios that could accompany it.

He had been missing this.

Something... unexpected.

Something... exciting.

Something... unnecessarily convoluted!

Jack took one look at his carefully not grinning face and groaned with exasperation. “Awww boss you ain’t changing the plan again are ya? You already wrote us like a 100 page novel about the first one…”

“Eh, fuck that plan.” Kokichi said doing some mental calculations, “Get me ten parachutes and see if Clubs has extra sleeping drugs I want you to put them in the passengers’ drinks. The strong stuff. Direct Queen towards the rooftop diagrams I shoved in his carry on. Tell me when it gets to be around 1:34 AM Paris time.”

She looked at him with annoyance at the sudden deluge of tasks. “Oh yeah, sure thing. And what are you going to do?”

He gave her his biggest, bestest, shit-eating-est grin. “Be myself, of course.”

Then he turned and boarded the plane, imagining and relishing in the weirded out look she was definitely giving him.

When he got to the entryway of the plane from the boarding hallway, he came upon Rook gossiping with one of the flight attendants. Kokichi heard something about a wedding and a honeymoon before Rook spotted him and excused themselves to find their seat.

“Good evening, sir.” The flight attendant said, still clearly coming off of the social high of talking about his personal happiness. Kokichi decided to slam him down from it, hard.

“It will now that I’m finally on the same damn plane as my husband.” He gave his best impression of a disgruntled everyman, which meant it was a great impression because his best was always great.

“R-right.” Ah yes, the security of making someone else feel socially awkward. Kokichi would make a great playground bully, that’s for sure. At least he was self aware. And putting his talents to good use! Bullying pseudo-law-enforcement was 100% valid according to all levels of morality.

As he walked down the aisle he noticed the rest of DICE ahead of him chattering like sparrows as they moved to the back of the plane. Originally they had planned to keep a low profile and have a pre-heist tea party before touching down in Paris, but now…

Kokichi spotted him, sure enough right by the emergency exits. He looked dead tired and about to doze off, so Kokichi took a second to make some quick observations he hadn’t gotten the chance to get on the night of the Smithsonian heist. The guy had this very detective-esque trench coat with lots of pockets, which was a shame because it meant that if Kokichi decided to pickpocket him he’d have trouble figuring out where his wallet was. Something that didn’t really fit Kokichi’s imaginings of a stereotypical detective, however was that the guy was around his own age in the mid twenties and didn’t seem like the grizzled gumshoe type at all. In fact he was kind of anti-grizzled. He had a boring pretty boy face like a model or something and instead of the full beard and square jaw Kokichi had half imagined any time the word “detective” came up in his mind’s eye he had eyeliner accentuating the only hair on his face and a very breakable looking face. Ok that was a very play ground bully thing to think. Except young people weren’t really as fun to bully as old people because they actually might be poor or emotionally insecure or something, which always made Kokichi feel a semblance of an emotion akin to guilt. But this guy was flying to Paris in the summer season and had been in America a couple weeks before, so fuck him basically. Didn’t he have a job or something?

Oh shit the guy was looking at him, how long had he been doing that?

Don't panic, analyze then act.

He seemed freaked. Probably because Kokichi had been staring at him for a couple seconds now. 

He put on a menacingly friendly grin and slipped into the seat next to the detective. Not the one in front of him, or one of the ones in his completely empty row, or even the aisle seat,  literally the one right next to him. He put his elbow on the armrest the detective had so kindly pulled down for him.

The guy still looked super freaked out, so Kokichi tried to shift his grin to the more congenial side of menacing.

“Hey, aren't you Shuichi Saihara?” He asked, extending his hand. He thought about coming up with a pseudonym but was too busy being delighted by the absolute terror on the detective’s face. “I'm your biiiggest fan.”

The guy shook his hand like it was the lever for his very own personal electric chair. Dramatic much?

It seemed to freak him out so Kokichi decided to run with the ‘biggest fan’ thread, chattering on, “I read aaall about that thing with the hairy elephant and the stupid ugly criminal you've been tracking.”

He would keep talking about the ironic impudence of this imaginary criminal but it really seemed like Saihara was having a dissociative episode while he was talking.

He frowned. That was kind of boring. “Hey are you like deaf or something?” That would be kind of extra boring because then Kokichi would be trying to bully a deaf dude and that would be lame. “Hey. Heyyyy. Earth to Shuichi Saihara.” Maybe he could thread some truth in here. “Geez I didn't expect you to be this boring in person…”

That seemed to get him.

Saihara shook his head like he was getting the dust out and stuttered out an "I-I-I'm sorry, what?"

Well maybe he had the soul of an old man, if not the looks of one, Kokichi thought to himself as he blithered on. “Have you been ignoring me? Not a very nice way to treat your biggest fans." He crossed his arms. "I, like, totally hate when heroes don't live up to your expectations."

Guy still looked half asleep… Maybe a change of scenery was in order… 

Kokichi noticed the chatty flight attendant from earlier coming down the aisle. It was time to act on his earlier framework...

He said something like “You can make it up to me,” but honestly even he wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying anymore. That was the only warning he gave before reaching over the detective to break his chair. If he had stopped to think about it, he might have thought it was awkward, but it wasn’t like he had to care about what this guy thought. He was going to leave him on the plane and probably never see him again.

Kokichi held himself back from giggling when the detective toppled over backwards.

“Oh no!” He feigned surprise, “How could this happen?”

"What happens to be the problem here gentlemen?" The flight attendant asked right on cue.

Saihara was looking pretty dubious but also not that talkative so Kokichi thought about the right words to spin this.

Distract. You’re the threat here, Kokichi.

"What's the problem? You're asking me what the problem is?" He shifted his tone to that of a white soccer mom used to getting what she wants. "The problem, good sir, is that this Rusty bucket of bolts you call an airplane just tried to give my husband a concussion! I could sue for this, you know."

The flight attendant broke easy.

"I'm so, so sorry sir." He quibbled. "Here, we'll make it up to you. It's a long flight and we don't have many guests so I can upgrade you both to first class with no additional charge."

Kokichi gave a rather hearty harrumph. Not bad as far as harrumphs go.

"You better. Or my lawyer will be hearing about this."

Hah. If Kokichi tried to talk to a lawyer he’d probably get arrested. Small claims lawyers were like cops but with even less spine and more capitalistic tendencies in his book.

The flight attendant didn’t seem to care about the rot of society, though, and tarried forth to first class. Saihara hadn’t quite caught on yet, so Kokichi grabbed his arm. For some reason he didn’t expect the detective to be so draggable. Detectives just didn’t seem that way. Like they could be dragged, but Saihara seemed too tired and confused to not be dragged. Thrilling! Boring. Okay okay don’t get ahead of the horses here. Horses? Uh.

First class was more Kokichi’s style. He let Saihara shuffle into the window seat so he’d be able to keep a look out for Jack’s signals in the aisle. 

"Let me know if there's anything else I can do to help you." The flight attendant said as Kokichi sat down.

Ugh it’s like he actually cared about his job or something. Being in customer service must be insufferable. 

Kokichi didn’t actually want to harrass this asshole when there was a perfectly good fake cop right next to him, so he replied with an apologetic smile, “Of course. Ah, I'm so rry for causing so much trouble, it's just the honeymoon you see and everything just has to be perfect, you know?”

"No, it's quite alright, I understand completely." The flight attendant seemed to relax a little, “I went through the same trouble with my husband. Really let me know if I can help you at all.”

Droll. “Thanks sooo much!" he intoned gratefully. He turned to Saihara who still looked like he was in shock. "Wasn't he just the nicest Shuichi?"

Saihara blinked at him. "... If you had enough money to hire a lawyer that could sue an airline so frivolously then you would've already been in first class."

Hey! That sounded like something a detective would say!

"I'm just stingy." Hah. Beat that logic. Nice one Kokichi.

Saihara squinted like he was about to bless Ouma with another brilliant deduction. 

"... Did you sit next to me so you could convince that gay flight attendant to put you in first class?"

Wow!!! He was thinking!!! He was totally wrong but at least he was trying.

"I can't believe you figured it out!" Kokichi did his best impression of a widow revealing a dark secret on prime time television. "It's true…Detective Saihara I was lying about being married to you the whole time. I thought you knew..."

"Wha- of course I knew that!" Saihara sputtered.

"Oh! How can you ever forgive me?" The flight attendant was definitely out of range by now so this seemed like a good time for some melodramatic tears. "Waah!"

"H-hey! Stop that." Wow what a bad detective. Is that how you comfort people? Sad.

Kokichi was about to weep even more for the loss of chivalry when the asshole shoved something at him. Was that… a handkerchief? This guy just had a handkerchief? Is that not something that only people in movies do? 

Weird.

Kokichi snatched it from him, exclaiming, “"Oh wow! What a gentlemanly thing to do!"

He proceeded to make his most grotesque snot noises imaginable.

“A-are you alright?” The detective stuttered out.

Kokichi pondered a couple iterations of “no, and it’s your fault” before deciding that was boring and saying “Perfectly fine.” He flicked out the handkerchief and held it a bit to make sure Shuichi noticed it was clean before tucking it in his pockets. “Just a liar is all.”

"A-a liar?"

Kokichi frowned at him. "No, where did you hear that?" He made an expression of disgust. “Ick, I hate liars after all.” He put on his manic pixie dream girl sees a light bulb for a first time look. “That's why I'm such a big fan of yours, Shuichi.”

"I-is that so?" Ah, the panic of a person unprepared for social interaction at two am was a sight for sore eyes. “Um.” Or maybe it said nothing of Ouma’s own skill that this guy was an awkward glob. "Y-you seem to know my name, but, uh, what's yours?"

A question! An inquiry! One for which Kokichi had the perfect answer....

"Kaito Momota."

“What.” 

Wow! What a flat tone Saihara had! Almost like he didn’t believe him or something absurd like that.

Kokichi waved his hands dismissively. "I know, I know, isn't that the name of your friend who was in the paper? That's why I read it, by the way," he said matter of factly. "Because we have the same name."

Ugh, he was adding too much supporting detail. That’s something bad liars do and he wasn’t a bad liar. He was the best liar. Accept no substitutions. Unless they were really good at lying about being a substitution… then they would probably be the best liar… 

Ok whatever ranking of liar he was it was probably good enough to fool-

"... I-is that another lie?"

Ah fuck.

"Neeheehee… ya caught me." Best to bail early on this kind of thing. "If you guess my real name by the end of the flight I'll give you a prize!"

"Like Rumplestiltskin?"

Really? Was his own charade getting that cartoonish already?

“Aww man. You guessed it the first try. That's no fun.” Logically this was boring but he was doing okay as far as airplanes went. "I guess now you'll just have to guess my second, less cool, real name instead."

As great as he was at being evasive in all situations why was the subject not changed by now.

"... Honestly I'd much rather be sleeping through this flight." The detective rubbed his face, and Kokichi noticed the darker shades of his eyelids weren’t all eyeliner. He must have business. Something that was keeping him up at night.

Kokichi determined some short term goals for this conversation. Find out why the detective was going to Paris was primary among them. That information would narrow down his field of options for how to spend the rest of the flight.

Kokichi scoffed. “Why would anyone get on a flight to Paris at 2 AM if they weren't prepared to be up all night?" He shifted back into the fanboy thread, "Oh! Oh! Oh! I bet you've got another case you're hot on the trail of, huh Mr. Detective?”

Saihara seemed to hesitate. “Uh, sort of.”

Kokichi thought he was going to say something more but after a few seconds of silence, it was clear he needed further prompting.

"What kind of answer is that?" His words seemed to surprise the Detective, which was a bit silly considering that they had been having a conversation, where words being exchanged should be the norm. "How can you only sort of be solving a mystery?" Kokichi lied through his teeth. "You know, I just so happen to also be a world class detective."

“Really? Saihara’s skeptical and unassertive response was less of a question in this conversation and more of a way to measure how gullible he was.

"Yes, really!" Kokichi replied, storming ahead, "And as a real life detective I just so happen to know that when you're working a case you work it with 100% of yourself!"

Saihara made this weird, soft sound. It took Kokichi a moment's consideration to realize it was supposed to be a laugh because it sounded not at all like the howling cackles growing up with DICE had familiarized him with.

"I guess you're kind of right about that…” He fidgeted with the edges of his coat. “There's, uh, this case that I've been looking into for a long time now and I guess I have really been putting 100% of myself into it. My friends think I'm going a little crazy…"

Ooh, that was something. 

“Your friends? Like that purple haired guy who was in the paper? The one with the dumb name?”

Considering the nitwit Saihara had been romping around the Smithsonian with, the detective must really be off the deep end on this case to be considered looney by his friends. 

Kokichi was predicting a silly story that he could use to justify to DICE his choice to sit next to the detective the whole flight beyond satiating this little whim of his for a taste of the unexpected. He imagined them laughing about the detective from the smithsonian who thought the Eiffel tower was a secret spaceship or something as Kokichi explained how he just had to stick around to make fun of him.

Oh shit the detective was saying something.

"-him and one other friend think I'm making this thing about the Louvre up… and maybe I am a little crazy."

… The Louvre, huh?

Kokichi scrutinized the detective. He couldn’t mean… “The Louvre? Like, someone's gonna steal the Mona Lisa?"

"Uh, no." The detective looked away as if mildly embarrassed. "I think, uh, someone's going to take the plumbing from the renovated bathrooms…"

Kokichi’s brain registered two things about Shuichi Saihara at the same time. One: he was a real detective. Not a hopeless buffoon of a gumshoe like the ones you saw in video games about dystopian court systems and gay lawyers. He had made a real life deduction and had done so accurately. He was on a case. The second thing he realised was that Shuichi Saihara was a direct threat to his entire operation.

People usually categorize threats as something to induce fear. Some would describe the fear as “bone chilling.” 

When Kokichi registered a threat his toes got cold. Not because he was scared or something dumb like that, but because his blood suddenly had a better place to be. 

Kokichi’s brain raced with possibilities, brand new scenarios and personas that he could put on. Like he had been sitting at a boring ass company play only to realize that the curtains were rising to reveal a dramatic opera where he was the star. Ok, Kokichi wasn’t exactly a poet laureate when it came to analogies, but he was excited okay?

Kokichi shuffled the deck of options and picked a card.

"Wow. You must be really smart to have figured that out." Ok, good thought to start with praise. He has a low self esteem. "You know…" Kokichi leaned in. Shuichi leaned away. Good. Make him uncomfortable by getting in his bubble.

Now, just for fun, lie wildly. 

 "I just so happen to be the leader of a secret organization with about 10,000 members. We rule the world from the shadows. I think we could use a detective like you."

Shuichi obviously didn’t believe him, which was, to his credit, absolutely fair. “That- that has to be a lie. There is no possible way for such an organization to exist.” 

Sad detective, falling for the classic hiding in plain sight maneuver. Disguise the truth of DICE in an unbelievable lie and he doesn’t believe any of it.

"And here I was thinking you were particularly clever." And, twist. "Seeing as you've refused to join my organization… it seems I'll have to kill you."

Oh man that really seemed to frazzle the good detective. What, had he never gotten a death threat before? Typical. It would be funny to see his expression if Kokichi were to just stab him right now. Except ew because blood and also ending human life. Yikes. Weird train of thought.

"But I'll let you leave this flight with your life if you can beat me in a game."

That seemed to calm the detective down a bit, like he realized Kokichi was just joking. It’d be funny when Kokichi pulled out the knife later. Ah, ah, ah, no spoilers.

"How about Russian Roulette with a full barrel?"

Shuichi sputtered, "This is a plane, you don't have a gun!"

Kokichi considered the ‘my ruse has been discovered….’ line again before he realized he’d used it like twice now and tossed it aside for: "Oh that's right, left it on my tchotchke shelf, silly me. Well I guess if you just want to beg like a dog and then split your guts open that would be acceptable."

Wow ok a little harsh there. Kokichi’s single brain cell devoted to tact whispered. What? No. No filter. Fuck you brain trying to conform to social conventions, shut the fuck up and stay out of my personality.

"Um, no that would kill me."

"Damn, nothing gets past you… Hmm… Ok, how about…" Kokichi reached into the pocket he usually left his Yu-Gi-Oh deck in. "A shadow game!"

He held up the cards only to realize they were actually just a normal playing deck. Oh yeah, he left his deck at home because he thought Rook might steal his blue eyes while he slept on the plane. Shit. Oh well, playing cards could be fun too.

"It's time to du-du-du-du-du-du-du-duel!"

Shuichi blinked. "A...duel? Shadow Game...?"

"Hmhmhm... Yes, the loser's soul will get sent to the Shadow Realm…" he shuffled them so that Shuichi and him would draw the same cards, "We each pull one card from this deck, and whoever has the largest number wins!"

Shuichi looked rather befuddled but Kokichi kept going full steam ahead.

This wasn’t really a game of chance anyhow. That wasn’t the point. The game had two motives, the first being to gauge Shuichi’s reactions to different scenarios, the second being to build up Kokichi himself as someone intimidating and mysterious. The card game wasn’t extremely telling, but the ensuing bout of rock paper scissors was. 

Kokichi was keeping pretty busy predicting what Shuichi was going to pick next in order to make it a tie, but Shuichi didn’t protest at all to the mindless repetitive game it must have been for him. He was either easily impressed by rock paper scissors or just too awkward to tell Kokichi to fuck off.

Apparently the guy sitting in the row in front of them had no qualms about such things. He hit the back of his seat and grumbled “Oh my God shut up already.”

A bunch of weirdly indignant thoughts ran through Kokichi’s head. 

Wow! Rude asshole! Mind your own fucking business! Get some damn headphones!

Shuichi looked like being told he was annoyed by a random asshole was his equivalent of seeing a ghost as he muttered out some inane apology. 

Not that he cared about how this guy felt, but him suddenly clamming up just wasn’t very fun at all. 

Just when he was making headway too…

… Maybe it was time to get rid of the distractions.

"Gosh Shuichi you really were being just too loud. You're like the loudest person I've ever met."

Shuichi looked at him like he was crazy which Kokichi appreciated for a millisecond before raising his voice to say, “Ugh that game was getting boring though, and no one won so it's probably time for something else.” He leaned over the aisle, noticing that Jack was standing in the aisle at the back of the plane chit chatting with Spades as Queen stole pretzel packets from the snack cart.

"Hey,” he called, “When's drink service?"

The three DICE members under his scrutiny froze like they had been caught doing something they shouldn’t be. They were probably gossiping about him again. Great.

Jack got her bearings fairly quickly, pushing the drink cart up the aisle. "Coming right up~" She trilled cheerfully.

As she passed by to start service at the front of the plane, Kokichi noticed a little green vial tucked into Jack’s sleeve. Most likely the sleep drug Kokichi had requested before he got on the plane. Hmm. He wanted to get rid of the distractions, but he wasn’t exactly sure distractions included Shuichi anymore. The flight was still pretty long and Kokichi knew he’d be bored out of his mind forever if he didn’t get through this whole game gambit with the detective.

Another spur of the moment change of plans was in order and it hit Kokichi with yet another wave of excitement.

"Hey, Shuichi!” He exclaimed, “We should have a tea party!"

Shuichi gave him another look. “A tea party? I don't think they ha-”

Kokichi didn’t have the patience not to speedrun Shuichi’s disbelief.

“Well oooobviously you wouldn't know anything about it.” He interrupted. “I'm the leader of a super secret organization after all, so of course I know about the super secret drink menu available on all air planes.

Shuichi frowned. "But they couldn't bring anything to-” 

He stopped listening. Something something blah blah blah doubt doubt doubt. 

Kokichi shook his head dismissively, getting ready to set up an I told you so moment. 

“Just watch.”

When Jack rolled up with the drink cart she made a hand signal that told Kokichi things were going well on DICE’s end of things. "And what would you fine sirs like to drink?" She asked in a register slightly higher than usual. Jack was being smarter than Kokichi about this and had basically contoured all of her distinctive facial traits away, so Kokichi wouldn’t have to worry about Shuichi tracking her down from this interaction.

"A cup of hot green tea."

Pretty much the only reason he was going along with this impulsive plan of his was that the only person who would get any heat for it if things was south was him. He wouldn’t put DICE’s livelihoods in danger for a whim such as this.

"Sure thing!"

Was this even a whim anymore?

"And what about you?"

Of course it was.

"Shuichi here will have the same thing."

If it wasn’t then it would have to be something else.

And if it were something else, then Kokichi wouldn’t know what it was.

He couldn’t afford to be that stupid.

"Of course.” Jack smiled almost a little too fakely. “Anything added in like sugar or cream?"

She was obviously double checking that Kokichi didn’t want this bastard drugged.

"No, we're both taking it plain today."

"Oh, really? Alright then." 

She poured the tea.

“"I hear you two are on a honeymoon? That's so lovely. Can I see the rings?”

Kokichi usually appreciated that Jack was quick to catch on to things, but she was bordering on insubordination at this point. 

"You know what I hear?” Time to play real housewives of DICE with this gossip again. “That lonely flight attendants should realize they're sad and nosey losers who should keep their noses out of happy people's business."

Aw shit she was going to think he was flustered and covering up something wasn’t she.

"Teehee~ Yes sir! Enjoy the flight." Yeah she totally was on to him

Wait no because to be on to him she would have to be right and she wasn’t so there.

Oh shit wait Shuichi was still here. Looking extremely awkward and unsure if he was also supposed to start bitching at flight attendants like it was common etiquette or something.

"That was all code you know.” He brushed it off. “Super secret organization stuff. You probably wouldn't understand."

"Uh, yeah." He said, "I probably wouldn't." 

Wow this guy was funny. Kokichi was moderately glad he wasn’t in a drug induced coma right now. Moderately glad was pretty good for an airplane vis a vis emotional stability.

"Neeheehee…” He let himself laugh a little. “Drink the tea Shuichi, I've got to pull you into a false sense of security before your final trial."

Shuichi frowned. "I feel like by pointing out that you're trying to lull me into a false sense of security you have essentially not done so."

"See, but because you feel that way it means I have succeeded in lulling you."

Shuichi frowned again, but seemed to see no logic in arguing. He decided to take a sip of his tea instead. Kokichi noticed the asshole in the chair in front of him was asleep. So was the guy in the seat across from his, and the woman in front of that guy was dozing too. Everyone else had a drink and would be soon to follow.

Everyone except for…

“So how do you like the tea, Shuichi?” Ouma asked.

Shuichi was drinking that hot leaf juice like a pro who didn’t even feel the burn. He made a contemplative expression.

“It’s pretty good as far as tea goes.” He shrugged. “I’m more of a coffee guy.”

Kokichi felt a little offended on the behalf of DICE’s custom blend as well as all of the classy tea drinkers in the world. He shook his head

"Fff, what are you, a cop or something? Next you’ll be telling me you like donuts more than cupcakes." 

Shuichi made a weird face before looking away. 

"Holy shit," Kokichi said. This was the perfect time to both change the subject and do a little investigating of his own. " Are you a cop? Like a really funny undercover cop who decided to pretend to be someone with the exact same job?"

"Uh, no, that's not it." 

Was it something about the donuts then or- wait no that was stupid it was obviously the cop thing. 

Shuichi was looking out the window now. "I, uh, did used to be a force detective."

"Huh," Kokichi remarked, trying to peek around at Shuichi's face, "Were you fired or something? You must've been pretty bad to get fired from some backwater police station."

"No that's not it." He seemed to be leaning into some sort of memory, "I quit actually…"

Ugh, who gave this fucking loser the right to be interesting. It was totally unfair.

Kokichi kept digging, "Man why wouldn't you want to be a cop. Clearly the most respectable public service someone can provide for their country…" but that was totally a lie. Cops suck.

Shuichi frowned. "I, uh, kind of disagree with that." He was pulling at his fingers like he was trying to stretch them like taffy. "I met a lot of people on the force who really did care about making the community better, but I feel like the existence of law enforcement is really a symptom of larger societal problems, and that the structure of power doesn't work to reduce crime or violence but instead works increase it by giving a group of privileged individuals the power to instill generational trauma in communities."

Uh… huh. Kokichi took a moment to process that because he had never thought about “cops = bad” beyond their innate fuddy duddy inclinations to stop him specifically from doing whatever the hell he wanted. What the fuck? Did this guy actually have, like, opinions??? And legitimate reasons for them??? Who gave him the right??? How could Kokichi hear more of them???

Pff wait he was probably some rich kid who took maybe one social justice class in college and became a stooge of the state anyway. Maybe he was, like, a real policeman's embittered assistant or something.

"That's lame." He lied, "cops are the cops, do you want folks to be murdering people left and right all the time??? I bet you've never even met a criminal." Hehe that one was a bit ironic, he'd laugh about it later.

Shuichi furrowed his brow at him, "Well, I have… I was a homicide detective, actually. I've arrested murderers in person many times..."

What???? Is this what talking to all strangers for extended periods of time was like? You found out they actually had lives? And cool careers? That they made their livings in murder?

Nah, Shuichi was probably an exception. You don't meet an anti cop homicide detective everyday after all…

Kokichi decided he was being too endeared so he planned out a new branch of conversation that would hopefully make Shuichi squeamish, or at least unnerved.

He put on his best enthusiasm face. "Tell me about a murder! Tell me, tell me, tell me!"

Shuichi blinked at him, surprised at his sudden shift in mood. "Uh, alright then…" he said.

Shuichi started to go into detail about a case he had solved his first year on the force. Some guy turned up dead in a public pool and everyone else had basically given up on the case. Shuichi was describing how he figured it out through deductions and use of specific forensic techniques, and to be honest he wasn't exactly a master of suspense. Kokichi was able to deduce the murderer from the details Shuichi chose to include. No, none of that was why he was completely mesmerized with Shuichi while he talked.

Hearing about the things that Shuichi did to get to the evidence in the first place was… impressive???

No that couldn’t be right. 

Maybe it was just weird to see a mousey guy like him get as jazzed up as Kokichi about solving murders, and not even in a weird or vaguely creepy way. He just seemed like… Kokichi hadn't thought about it in a long time but when he was a kid he read a shit ton of mystery manga, where the heroes were detectives. He had since then moved on to more sophisticated literature such as airplane diagrams and police radio transcripts, but Shuichi reminded him of those detectives instead of the old fuddy duddies with which he had begun to associate the profession. He was just kind of… cool. Yeah that was the word for it. Cool. Like he was always going to get around to the right answer no matter what. Yeah, he had that abstract "coolness" factor that had drawn Kokichi to protagonists as a kid.

Kokichi wanted to steal it from him. Break his composure, become the center of the stage in this narrative. Yet, at the same time he suddenly dreaded his own inevitable heel turn. This was something rare, he decided, getting to talk one on one with Shuichi like this. It would probably never happen again.

So Kokichi listened. He teased, interjected, and prompted superfluous explanations, but he listened. 

And Shuichi talked. He talked about murder most foul, crooked cops, elusive evidence, and the friends he made along the way. Shit straight out of a manga that Kokichi was spending his Saturday morning hyper-fixating on.

The conversation only ended when Shuichi had to get up to use the toilet. A stark reminder that manga wasn’t real and in meatspace human beings had to shit every now and then. Kokichi watched him go and felt a little sad. Like he knew whatever it was worth, the moment had passed. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity and now all he had was to dissect it over and over again in his head until it became mangled beyond recognition...

Yeah yeah ok, world's tiniest violin, scattered ashes, ceremonial boat burning, yadda yadda.

Kokichi had a heist to pull off, no time for any of this silly stuff. He dismissed whatever weird feelings were bubbling in his chest and decided to go with the more practical inspiration that struck him. He took a couple seconds to plan out his grand exit. He decided to leave Shuichi a note and justified to himself that heists had been getting boring lately and as a proper game master he should give Shuichi a hint. Hmm were his initials too much? It might seem like…

Well he didn't really know what it seemed like, which was weird because he was a genius. Was he actually trying to figure out how Shuichi would react to this? He hadn't really thought about what Shuichi's opinion of him had been because he had only started thinking of Shuichi as an actual person halfway through the flight. That was the thing about being in a close knit organization, he always thought about DICE as an extension of himself and everyone else as some sort of nebulous other he had to predict the movements of. Sometimes he forgot that if you spent a lot of time talking to some stranger you find out they have brains and lives and stuff.

Speaking of things that probably have brains and lives and stuff, things seemed to be going good with DICE. Jack had signaled him that she told everyone about the plan when she came by to collect trash. 

Of course, he and Shuichi were the only ones she took trash from. Everyone else was fast asleep, all according to plan. Kokichi had written some last minute details on a napkin he had put in the trash bag, so they all knew they were dropping soon. 

They were also all probably gossiping about him. He supposed that's what he got for ditching them to sit with a detective dressed in black like a sexy motorcycle. Wow that was terrible where did his brain even get that line and how could he use it to make Shuichi freak out. Probably pretty easily...

Except if everything went according to plan maybe he wouldn't have the chance. Not like this. He imagined himself yelling the comment at Shuichi from the safety of a getaway chopper, like in the movies…

Ok his note was basically done now. Oh hmm. This actually seemed kind of desperate, the note. It kind of screamed "track me down to the end of the world please" like some sort of piss baby cry for help. 

Aw shit. He was thinking about what Shuichi thought about him again...

Speak of the devil and he shall appear but Kokichi was already here and hadn't talked about himself in a bit, so Shuichi showed up instead. His hands were wet which meant he washed them and goddammit it was insufferable how tolerable this guy was. Did he have no weaknesses besides being generally awkward and also being someone who used to be a cop? Ugh wait the latter was kind of cool too. Insufferable.

Well you know what they say, if you can't beat em plan to jump off an airplane because you did beat them they just don't know it yet.

Kokichi decided their final trial together deserved some dramatic build up, so he bowed to Shuichi as he got up to let him sit back down. 

"Welcome, combatants." He illustriated, "Take your seat and prepare for the final trial."

Shuichi gave him a wary look as he slid back into his seat. 

"What is it this time?" he asked.

Kokichi considered pulling out the crying on that one, but got too excited about how Shuichi would react to his pulling out the knife instead. Thusly he reprimanded the detective’s lack of enthusiasm with a single tsk.

“You could stand to be a little more concerned mister detective, it’s your life on the line after all.” 

Shuichi gave him a dubious look, like he trusted airport security and general societal norms to keep him from being murdered. 

Kokichi wanted to tear down the walls of that trust.

He pulled out the knife.

Shuichi’s reaction was instantaneous. He practically jumped away from Kokichi in his seat. Weirdly enough... that just made Kokichi realize they had been sitting pretty close before...

How did that happen?

Eh no time for that.

“Is that a knife?” Shuichi yelped, “How did you get a knife on the plane?”

It was weird how Shuichi stuttered about everything except things that were actually dangerous. Well maybe Kokichi having a knife wasn’t really dangerous, but Shuichi didn’t know that and here he was saying complete words. Sentences and all. And yet it still had the streak of incredulity running through it that shot through to Kokichi’s head faster than his own signature panta-redbull blend.

“Oh, a villain's got his ways.” He said in a way that he thought was pretty cool and mysterious.

Shuichi still seemed to be panicking a bit and Kokichi was getting a little tired of that so he brushed past it.

“Now this game's pretty easy to understand, but you gotta be skilled,” he explained matter of factly, “I'll go first to show you how it's done.”

When some other kids had showed him this game when he was an even tinier bastard they had started off slow and slowly sped up. But he was still kind of leaning into the shock factor, and going slow was lame. He started stabbing the table through his fingers at a breakneck pace.

“H-hey!” Shuichi exclaimed (oh so now he stutters), “You're gonna hurt yourself doing that!”

“Pff, as if I would.” 

The thing about this game is that it required rhythm, and rhythm required predictable repetition, and being predictable was the antithesis to everything that brought him joy in life.

He sped up.

“Here it's really easy.”

He went even faster.

The knife went *thuck thuck thuck* as it massacred the table.

When you did something the same way for a long time it gave you time to think about things. It didn’t really give you anything specific to think about, though, so Kokichi always felt like he was wasting time.

The knife went *thkthkthk* between his fingers.

He wanted to consider next steps. How long he would do this for and what would he do if Shuichi lost the game… Instead he started thinking about when he learned the game. He remembered he had picked it up from some of the older kids at one of the homes. The only other thing he remembered about them was one time they had stood by a rose bush with him, tearing off thorns and pushing them into their fingertips. Kokichi had done it and remembered that it didn’t feel like anything at all.

*Schlick*

Your fingers are full of blood vessels and nerves, but if you push down to the cartilage-

Oh wait. 

“Agh!” Shuichi exclaimed from beside him, “You’re bleeding!”

Kokichi was bleeding.

He was looking at his hand. His knife had nicked a millimeter of skin on the inner side of his ring finger, just at the junction between the tip of his finger and the second part of the ligament. It occurred to him that he was in pain.

“Ow,” He said on instinct. Or maybe he thought it in his head. It didn’t matter because he was busy also thinking about how Shuichi had just grabbed his wrist and pulled it over to him.

The detective placed Kokichi’s hand in his lap like a sandwich he was saving for later while he ruffled through his coat pockets. He drew out a bandaid and lifted Kokichi’s hand again. His fingers were longer than Kokichi’s, and they felt sort of cold, like his blood had better places to be than his fingertips. They were very, very gentle as they wrapped a bandage around the bleeding finger. Almost like Shuichi cared or something.

The detective’s greyish green eyes flickered up to him and Kokichi realized Shuichi had really long eyelashes. “You really ought to be more careful.” He said in his soft way.

Kokichi was honestly having more emotions than were necessary about this, so he focused on the annoyance.

Man, good at figuring things out, is interesting, has opinions, and actually cares about other people? Was this guy even a real person??? That seemed like too many character traits. Geez Shuichi, why did mom let you have all of the attractive personality qualities?

Did he say attractive? He meant annoying. 

Shuichi squinted at him. His eye lashes weren’t that long, he was wearing eyeliner. Kokichi had already noticed that. He just had to start thinking coherent thoughts again.

“What is it? Are you alright?”

Yeah, for sure.

Shuichi was still holding his hand and Kokichi decided it was time to not be touching another person again, so he quickly whipped it away. He tried to settle into a boastful kind of hands behind the head pose, but worried that the effect was lost by the sudden squirming of emotions in his gut.

"Geez," Kokichi said petulantly, "I can't believe you actually beat me."

He stomped everything down. It was time for action not... not whatever this was.

Shuichi blinked at him in confusion. "Beat you? But I didn't even play…"

"Doesn't matter." Kokichi shifted to a new pose where he leaned his arm on the rest in between them and propped his head up, positioned for his next steps. "The rules were if I cut myself I lose, and I lost."

“...Although, it doesn't matter if you join my organization or not anymore, Shuichi."

Shuichi looked at him in confusion and Kokichi found it kind of frustrating that he didn’t know which aspect of this that Shuichi was contemplating. 

“Uh, it doesn’t?”

Very eloquent, Shuichi, that clears things up.

"Nope." Kokichi moved a bit so that both elbows rested on the arm rest and propped his head up closer to Shuichi’s. "Because I've already done something much more important than winning."

As Kokichi leaned in Shuichi leaned back. Shuichi was staring pretty intensely at his eyes which made this the perfect opportunity. Kokichi’s hands went lightly down to Shuichi’s waist, where he put the detective’s seat belt into a dreadknot.

“W-what's that?” The detective stammered, no doubt as alarmed by the proximity as Kokichi had anticipated.

Kokichi hadn’t really anticipated what he would say next though.

He went with, “I've stolen your heart.” He felt a millennia of DICE movie nights spent making fun of romantic comedies crash against his soul and decided to change the genre before he embarrassed himself. “Because I'm a thief you know?”

He was practically breathing in Shuichi’s ear by now, which made this next part a little hard. He unbuckled his seatbelt. Then, in a fluid motion Kokichi’s hands went behind his head as he arched to place them on the aisle armrest. He did a handstand for an instant on the arm rest before landing his feet across the aisle on to some poor bastard’s tray table.

When he came up for air he observed that he had knocked a cup over and that Shuichi had just noticed his own seat belt malfunction. The detective’s look of dawning realization felt like a standing ovation.

"Hmmm, I really should kill you, now that you've seen my face," and maybe he would if DICE were that kind of organization. It was kind of troubling that the police would get sketches, and the gang would probably harrang him about it. But eh, what can you do. 

Certainly not murder. You can’t just murder people. That’d be dumb. Boring even.

Kokichi hopped down from the tray table and grabbed his heist bag. It would’ve been bad to forget that, he considered as he pulled out his mask, Louvre cameras are a lot more reliable than a half asleep detective’s recount.

Said detective was certainly fully awake now, looking at Kokichi in an utterly gobsmacked manner. Kokichi felt like he was sinking his teeth into the stem of a rose thrown from the audience.

"... But I think that'd be a waste, don't you?" Maybe the trouble was what he was looking for, after all. He wondered if they would fingerprint the arm rests when the plane touched down. They wouldn’t find any matches in any criminal database, so it didn’t matter much to him. He put on his gloves anyway before tossing Shuichi the note he had written.

No time for second drafts. He thought as he started walking down the aisle.

“Somebody! Stop him!” Shuichi yelled from behind him. It was so manga detective that Kokichi wanted to scream.

The rest of DICE was already getting up with their parachutes on, and a few turned towards Shuichi’s call. Thank goodness they were wearing their masks because he wasn’t sure if Shuichi could still see down the aisle or not. He might’ve seen Jack’s face, but she had been wearing a lot of makeup so it was probably fine.

She certainly didn’t seem concerned. She was checking the knots the only actual flight attendant on the plane was trussed up in.

Ace, always a little over eager, wrenched open the emergency exit as Kokichi was still putting his parachute on. He felt the drastic change of air pressure in those spaces you feel it in your skull and stomach. He hadn’t realized how warm the inside of the plane was until the cold air sucked it out. 

He used convenient zippers to close up his hoodie pockets, knife included, and buckled up the rest of the parachute’s straps.

He looked back, just once. Shuichi was peering out at him in the aisle. He looked like his world was ending and Kokichi reveled in the power of that. That he was just that important to this detective.

The curtains are about to drop but there are still people screaming in the balconies.

He smiled.

The encore wasn’t up to him.

“So long, Mr. Detective!" He got to the window. "Better luck next time.”

Kokichi jumped back first out of the plane and the walls and the aisles and the lights of the plane slipped out of view through the emergency exit one by one.

And he fell.

He fell and flipped over to take in the view of Paris below. The city of lights indeed. It was beautiful, he supposed.

He fell, letting himself enjoy the breeze a bit before reaching terminal velocity. 

He didn't though. 

Enjoy it. 

It felt like getting on a fucking awesome roller coaster except it’s also your every day ride to your job at some dead end minimum wage desk.

It was… boring. Routine.

Just victory, just the Louvre, just air.

Even as the other members of DICE whooped and hollered on their descent, Kokichi realized the fun part of the heist was already over. The whole heist was over.

He could predict it all.

He would deploy his parachute, he would float down to the Louvre, and he would orchestrate a perfect heist.

But Kokichi Ouma realized then that he would never stopped falling.

[damienthepious]

it’s PROPOSAL/MARRIAGE day for penumbra pride week, and if I didn’t put up more of this fic I would cancel myself

The Rite Of Movement (Chapter 4)

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [ao3] [Ch 5]

[Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters:  Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla, The Keep, Original Monster Character(s), Sir Marc, Sir Talfryn, Sir Angelo, Quanyii, Sir Caroline

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Engagement, Post-Canon, Domestic Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Poetry, Presents, Monster Customs, Dancing

Fic Summary: Arum has a surprising revelation about his own feelings, and then decides to take matters into his own claws since his humans don’t seem to realize what they are denying themselves.

Chapter Summary: A few personal invitations, and some uninvited guests.

Chapter Notes:  Y'all this chapter went a bit off the rails, and I think you'll be able to tell exactly where it happened. That's mostly why it took a full month between the last one and this. Forgive me? <3 thank you, as always, for reading <3

***

It’s easier, with Tal still writing up his field guide to Arum’s swamp, for Rilla to bully the brothers into stopping by her hut for a visit. Wherever they are, the Keep can provide an easy door, and all Rilla has to do is time it right and give them an expectant, inarguable glare. Plying them with food usually helps, too.

When she has them settled in the front room of her hut, picking eagerly at a plate of laddu and a few extra chocolates Arum claims did not meet his exacting standard for the engagement gift, she gets to the point.

“We’ve set a tentative date for the wedding,” she says, pouring tea with the hint of a smile on her lips.

Tal smiles, head tilting slightly to the side. “That’s great, Rilla! When-”

“Finally. Took you two long enough,” Marc complains through a mouthful, rolling his eyes.

“Actually, it will be us three, Marc,” she corrects. Her voice and face are both entirely calm, but there is a tightness to the way she sets down the kettle.

“Huh,” Talfryn says, puzzled, and then more emphatically, “Oh, um-”

“Scales actually agreed to marry you?” Marc asks incredulously. “I figured he’d be a hard sell on matrimony considering how aggressively he likes to pretend to not have feelings, like, at all.”

“He-” Rilla pauses, biting her lip to keep her smile from getting too wide. “He asked us, actually.”

Tal and Marc exchange a shocked look, more at the shy joy in Rilla’s expression than at the information itself.

“Well- congratulations!” Tal says, finding his voice earlier than his brother.

“Yeah, what he said,” Marc says, still seeming a little dazed.

“Thanks.” Rilla preens, just a little. “The event itself is gonna be fairly small. For obvious reasons.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Marc says with a snort. “What’s it, just us and Angelo?”

Rilla sighs as Talfryn elbows his brother in the ribs. “Plus the Keep, maybe Quanyii if we can reach her, and a couple of Arum’s friends, apparently.”

“Scales has friends?” Marc asks, and Tal elbows him harder, and hisses his name. “Ow! What? He just doesn’t seem like the type is all.”

“Why, because he’s a monster?” Rilla attempts to feign outrage, but she’s still too overtly pleased to actually pull it off.

“Mostly just ‘cause you and Sir Damien are the only people he seems to actually, like, like. And I mean ‘people’ in the broadest possible sense. I mean, I helped save his weird castle thing and everything,” he says with a pointed gesture that nearly spills his tea, “but I still think I’m only on the barely-tolerable list.”

“He did come around to see us a lot in the last couple weeks, while I was working on the guidebook. He answered some of the questions I had for him,” Talfryn says, pursing his lips in consideration. “And he kept bringing- well,” he nudges one of the chocolates with a finger, expression puzzled, “a lot of these.”

“It was definitely the most aggressively I’ve ever been offered candy,” Marc says. “Actually I wouldn’t even say offered, really-”

“The plain ones were good from the beginning, at least-”

“Yeah but batch three of the raspberry ones stained our mouths purple for like, four days.”

“Well, that’s true, but when he switched-”

“Tal. Marc.” Rilla leans forward. “Do you want to come to my wedding or not?”

Their eyes collectively widen, and Talfryn nearly chokes on his breath to answer. “Of- of course, Rilla of course we do-”

“Obviously,” Marc adds. “I mean, I was gonna come to your wedding when it was just you and Damien, and I like scales a hell of a lot better than I- ow, Tal, my ribs.”

Rilla grins as Marc scowls at his brother. “Good. Thank you.” She pauses to tuck a bit of unraveled braid back behind her ear. “It’s gonna be on the next full moon. Even you two can keep track of the phases of the moon, right?”

“Of course we can!” Marc complains, and Rilla gives him a look before she turns to Talfryn instead.

“I won’t let him forget, Rilla,” Talfryn says, smiling. “Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

***

The instant Sir Damien manages to find himself alone with Sir Angelo in the halls of the Citadel, he pulls his friend aside, the words bubbling out of him in excitement.

“Sir Angelo, I have a favor to ask of you, but it will require a degree of… discretion, my friend, and before I ask this favor I must ask for an assurance that you will not draw undue attention our way when I ask. Is this fair?”

Angelo gives Damien a wide-eyed look. “I am the very picture of discretion, Sir Damien! You may rely upon my quietude and discretion and- and another word for the same skill. I am quite adept!”

Damien grips Angelo’s arm, and drags him further down the corridor, jaw clenched in mingled amusement and concern.

“Oh-” Angelo ducks his head, and lowers his voice minimally. “Oh, I was shouting again, wasn’t I?”

“Indeed.”

“Apologies, Sir Damien. I know not my own strength, nor do I know my own volume.”

“I know, Sir Angelo,” Damien smiles. “It’s alright. Here, this one is empty.”

Damien leads Angelo into a small room (or, perhaps, large closet), full of half-destroyed training dummies but empty of other people, and when he closes the door behind them he can’t quite clamp down on his grin.

“You have been positively jolly for days, my friend! What favor could you need when you seem so content already?”

Damien laughs softly, glances at the door one more time, and then quietly says, “You know, of course, that Rilla and I have been engaged for some time now.”

Angelo perks up immediately, grinning wide. “Of course! I have been anticipating eagerly the day when I may act as your second in this most joyous of events!”

Damien winces, furtively looking to the door again, and Angelo shuffles his feet in embarrassment before he repeats his entire point verbatim at approximately half the volume.

“Well,” Damien says, “you won’t have to live in anticipation for much longer, my friend.”

Angelo gasps, clamping his hands over his mouth and muffling as he says, “Sir Damien-”

“We plan to wed in a month,” he says, his grin irrepressible. “On the full moon. Rilla, and I, and…” the grin finally weakens, his nerves slipping cold fingers between his ribs, “and Lord Arum,” he finishes quietly.

“Oh.” Angelo looks puzzled for a moment, and then his expression opens back into bright, wild joy. “Oh. Oh,” and he’s half shouting again until Damien grips the wrist of his armor in warning and he manages to muffle his voice into a reasonable volume that trembles with desire to raise again. “Oh, Sir Damien!”

“I know it is unusual-” Damien starts, but Angelo shakes his head quickly and enthusiastically and puts his hands down heavily on Damien’s shoulders.

“That is fantastic, Sir Damien! You are so utterly spoiled with love, and I cannot think of any man who deserves it quite so much as you do, my friend!”

Damien feels the tears at the corners of his eyes almost instantly, and he valiantly tries to hold them back. “You- you are unconcerned that-”

“Lord Arum is a friend,” Angelo says, as if he is explaining something quite simple. “And it is clear how deeply he cares for the both of you. An abundance of love is nothing to be concerned with, Sir Damien. It is something to be celebrated!” Angelo is certainly shouting now, and when Damien wipes at his eyes and waves a hand in the air, Angelo winces apologetically and lowers his tone again. “Celebrated… quietly! Of course!”

Damien sniffles, just a little. “Yes. Yes, that is- thank you, Sir Angelo. I never should have worried. And- you will be able to… to keep this event appropriately quiet, won’t you? It is going to be a rather… private affair.”

“I… private.” Angelo frowns. “Yes. Of course! Er- with… with whom, Sir Damien, may I discuss this happy and very private event?”

“Er… Talfryn and- and Marc. Primarily.”

Angelo pauses, and then it is his turn to sniffle. Just a little. “Ah, Sir Damien…” his lip wobbles. “Would that I could shout your joy from the rooftops of this city, my friend.”

“I know, Sir Angelo, I know.” Damien smiles, a little wryly. “No one else… I cannot expect that they would understand. I myself took so long to begin to reconcile with the truth of the matter… as much as it pains me to bottle up my feelings and my love and the truth of my heart, it matters far more to me to keep my flowers safe. It is only a drop of poison, and I will drink it readily to keep far greater evils from their cups.”

Angelo’s smile blooms slow, and he squeezes his hands on Damien’s shoulders again. “That,” he says, “is precisely how a husband should think.”

***

The Keep alerts Arum of the trouble in the late afternoon, and its portal quickly displaces him near the northern edge of his swamp.

He sees the commotion right away. A monster - large soft moth wings camouflaged gray-brown and convincing mossy green, a segmented body, twitching antennae, eyes narrowed in a glare and clawed appendages scrabbling with menace - is caught in one of his traps. A nonlethal one, more lucky this creature - or at least, an incredibly slowly lethal one. He arches an eyebrow, folding his arms behind his back primly.

“It appears you are trespassing on my land,” he says, voice low and mild and shivering with danger. “I could have simply had the Keep eject you to the edge of the swamp, but it informs me that it has already done so. Twice. Perhaps you are confused,” he offers, gesturing, “and so I will give you this advice; the Swamp of Titan’s Blooms is protected, and if you continue to intrude upon it, you will not find those protections so…” he tilts his head at the enormous flytrap, its maw sinking slow enough as to be near imperceptible over the moth, “so accommodating. You will pass another way, or you will meet hungrier teeth than these.”

“’M not trying to pass by,” the creature says in a whispering lilt. “Been trying to talk. Been trying to get your attention, Lord of the Swamp.”

“What.” Arum’s eyes narrow, instantly on alert. “Why? What business could you have with me? I am not offering my services at the moment, I’ve made that perfectly clear.”

The creature flutters slightly, wings cramped by the trap, staring at him intently. “I’ve heard tell that humans have been creeping in on your land, Lord Arum. Have they met with such hungry teeth as you say?”

Arum’s tail curls in slow, dangerous coils behind him, his frill shivering at his neck. “And where… precisely… did you hear tell of that?” he hisses.

“Depends. Is any of it true?”

Arum glares at the creature, and then he unsheathes one of his knives.

A rustle off to his left makes him duck instinctively, stance defensive, but all that stumbles from the undergrowth is a human, hands empty and upturned in a pleading gesture.

“Wait please don’t hurt- don’t hurt her, we’ll leave-”

“Oh you absolute fool,” the moth mutters, dropping her face into a pair of claws. “Puck-”

Arum stares incredulously as the human winces, hands still held in that defensive, placating stance.

“He was going to stab you-”

“I most certainly was not,” Arum says. “Who- what-”

“We didn’t know where else to go,” the human - Puck? - says. “And Tetch heard about that human at Helicoid’s court, saying she loved you and-”

Arum blanches, teeth baring in distress, and the human stops, stepping sideways between Arum and the moth.

“Just- don’t hurt her. If you let her go we’ll- we’ll leave. Please.”

Arum is utterly comfortable with Amaryllis and Damien, and by now it is not even unusual to speak casually with Sirs Marc and Talfryn and Angelo, but the tone this human stranger is taking with him now is setting off more alarm bells than Arum knows what to do with.

“You- why would you care if a human claimed to-” he pauses to project a sneer, “to care for me? And why do you care what happens to this creature?” He eyes the human, then glances back to the moth, who has gone still in what appears to be terror. He takes an experimental step forward, closer to the human, and the moth does not disappoint. Her wings stutter wildly, her antennae twitching as she reaches through the bars of the flytrap’s teeth.

“Don’t- don’t hurt them, don’t you dare-”

Arum stops. “You both seem utterly convinced that I am going to hurt you, considering that you chose to come here.”

“So we made a mistake, I get it.” The human reaches out and grips the moth’s claw, their eyes wide and frightened. “If you let her go, we’ll leave. We won’t bother you again. We’ll find somewhere else-”

The moth makes a hissing noise, clutching tighter at the human’s hand. “Stop talking, Puck, he isn’t going to-”

“Release her,” Arum says, making a light gesture with one hand and sheathing his knife with another, and the flytrap begrudgingly creaks open.

The moth gives an uncomfortable burst of clicks as the teeth raise, and Arum realizes belatedly that the trap has pierced one of her wings through. At a cursory glance the damage does not look too terrible, but she will certainly be unable to fly for the time being. Arum rankles slightly, and thinks, that is not my fault.

Once she is un-pinned, the moth clambers out as quickly as she is able, and immediately wraps her uninjured wing around the human, glaring protectively over their shoulder at Arum. He raises an eyebrow.

“Well?” he grumbles. “You’re free. Leave.”

“Just- just like that?” the human says, and the moth tightens her grip. “You don’t- you don’t care that we’re-”

“Correct,” Arum says primly. “However that sentence ends, I do not care. Leave. Leave my swamp.”

“Don’t question it,” the moth mutters, pulling the human back a step or two.

“No, wait, Tetch, your wing, you won’t be able to-”

“I don’t need to fly to leave this wretched place.”

Arum doesn’t take offense at that; hopefully it means they will leave that much quicker.

“Even so, just let me treat it first, you stubborn thing,” the human says, and then they pull a folded leather pouch from their bag, and Arum watches impatiently and uncomfortably as they unwrap a roll of near translucently thin parchment, unroll it, and tear off an appropriately sized patch. They apply a strange smelling glue around the edges, and delicately press the sheet over the wound to seal it. Arum notices, now that he has the context for it, that the moth’s wings have been mended this way in the past, that there are a number of these patches, with patterns hand-painted to match the coloring of her natural wings.

Arum is reminded, in a vivid and unbidden way, of his own hands, gently tying his torn cape around the wound on Damien’s arm after their second duel. It is an unwelcome feeling. An unpleasant one, in that he despises being caused to feel any kinship with these strangers, with this bold little human and their monster.

“Wonderful,” the moth gripes, and Arum can hear the embarrassed fondness she’s trying to hide, and it irritates him even more.

“Indeed,” he drawls. “Now. If you don’t mind terribly. Keep, a portal to the northern border of the swamp, if you would.”

The portal curls itself out of the damp ground, and the two strangers step back from it automatically, startled by how quickly it appears. The moth looks at Arum warily as if she suspects him of deceit, but she nods after only a moment and pulls the human towards the exit.

“But that’s back the way we came. What are we supposed to do after that? We haven’t anywhere else to go, Tetch.” The human furrows their brow, digs in their heels and turns towards Arum with a look of determined worry. “Please. Please. Your land is vast, Lord Arum. There must be somewhere we could stay, if only for a short while, where we wouldn’t cause you trouble.”

Arum thinks of Amaryllis, the first time she looked out his balcony at the full scope of what is his; the wonder in her eyes, and the pulse of pride and pleasure it had sent through him. He shakes that feeling, and thinks instead about Sir Talfryn, enthusiastically cataloging the untold, innumerable wonders of life within his swamp. Thinks of Sir Marc, feckless as he traipses clumsily across land he does not respect. He sneers, shaking his head.

“I do not need any more uninvited visitors cavorting around my home and making a mess of things,” he says, voice gone half to snarl, and there is a pause before the two interlopers respond.

“Any…” the human trails off.

“… more?” the moth finishes, her antennae twitching in amusement.

Arum snaps his jaw shut, his frill pressing tight against his neck. A thousand times damn Amaryllis’ siblings.

“How many visitors infest your land, lizard Lord?”

“That is decidedly not your concern, moth.”

“Her name is Tetch,” the human says gently.

“I could not be compelled to care,” Arum snarls. “The both of you, get through the damned portal or I’ll throw you back in the flytrap with my own hands.”

The moth - Tetch - flares her wings wide, hissing, but the human furrows their brow. “I… I am beginning to think that you won’t, actually.”

Arum glares the fragile little creature down for a long, tense moment, but they completely fail to quail under his gaze. The Keep croons a question through the portal, and Arum hisses a sigh, then drops his eyes. “I don’t have time for this,” he mutters. “If you wish to continue wandering the swamp until one of you falls into an errant hole in the murk or another of my numerous traps, you may kill yourselves at your leisure.” He gives an exaggerated bow with bad grace, then turns on his heel. “Keep, take me home.”

The first portal sinks away, and the Keep pulls open a new one in front of Arum.

On the other side of this new portal, however, Amaryllis is half turning, grinning brightly as she catches sight of him.

“Arum! I was just coming… back from…” she trails off as Arum freezes in place. “Uh. Arum?”

Arum stands as still as possible, his hands compulsively at the hilts of his knives though he is unsure when they got there. He sees, just out of the corner of his eye, as the human behind him gives a strange little wave.

“Ah, hello there,” they say, and Arum bristles as he hears the smile in their voice. “I’m Puck, and this is my- well. My monster, Tetch. I believe we’ve already met yours.”

***

“Ooooooooooh, we are going to a wedding!”

“What?” Caroline frowns automatically, turning from her mountain of paperwork - damn the Queen and damn her again - towards her witch. “What are you on about?”

Quanyii hugs a rather absurdly large bee against her chest, stroking the fuzz on its head enthusiastically as she waves a sheet of parchment in the air between herself and the knight. “A wedding, sweets! Looks like my favorite little herbalist is finally tying her boy and her beast down!”

“What?” Caroline says again, her frown deepening. “Where- where did you get that?” She asks, gesturing towards the bee, the parchment, the entire mess.

“Never mind that, babe, that’s boring. It’s much more exciting to think about how many new and interesting friends we’re going to make at this shindig!”

Caroline snatches the sheet from Quanyii’s hand, and the witch pouts at her as she scans over the scrawling handwriting. “This… this is not addressed to us.”

“Oh?” Quanyii tilts her head, the movement too innocent to be anything but false.

“Your name is not Leith.” Caroline levels a glare at Quanyii, who musters a wildly flirtatious look in return. When Caroline doesn’t blink she lowers her shoulder slightly so her sleeve slides down an inch or so. When that doesn’t work, she flutters her eyelashes like a pair of panicked butterflies, and when even that doesn’t move Caroline’s expression, she finally breaks into a pout again.

“Ohhhh, you’re no fun today!”

“You stole a wedding invitation from a gigantic bee.” Caroline says in a growl.

“Don’t be mad,” Quanyii says, her voice almost entirely buried in a whine. “They wanted to invite me. I can feel it. They just didn’t know how!”

Caroline raises an eyebrow. “They… wanted to invite you.”

“They just didn’t know where to send the bumbly girl here!”

“Hm.” Caroline pauses, her lip pulled to the side in a thoughtful grimace as she drums her fingers off her biceps, reading the invitation again. “I’ll admit, I didn’t think the wilting little knight would have the fortitude to actually go through with anything this…”

“Bold?”

“Risky,” she finishes, shooting the witch a glance. “If stray witches can go plucking invitations out of the air.”

“Ohhh, don’t be like that. I told you,” she presses a hand dramatically over her heart. “They want me to come, and that’s why I know about it. These lil gals are actually very clever messenger buggies!”

“I’ll have to take your word for that,” Caroline says, eyeing the bee warily.

“Yes you will.” Quanyii ruffles her sleeves like a preening bird, her nose upturned.

“You will be sending this invitation onward to its intended recipient, now,” Caroline says, a warning in her voice, and Quanyii pouts again, a little harder this time.

“I was going to, you big mean bully. I want to meet the big tough lizard’s little friend, not uninvite him. Obviously.” She pauses, biting her lip and looking up at Caroline through her eyelashes. “Sooooooooo… does this mean you’ll come with me?”

Caroline purses her lips, and gives Quanyii a look to let her know that she is perfectly aware of what the witch is doing. “Fine. Fine. If only to see the look on Sir Damien’s face, I’ll go.”

Caroline, knowing better, presses her hands over her ears just in time to muffle Quanyii’s piercing, joyful shriek.

[morphituu]

Bell Peppers Ch. 16

“Summit”

Archive of Our Own: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16

tumblr: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16

The tea would do well to keep his hands warm once he was outside, as well as wake him up a bit more.

The nightmares had come back full force- shaking him awake, jostling a sore Callie every night since she’d been in hospital, and he always felt so fucking stupid for being the one who needed consoling when she was the one bleeding their baby out and in need of rest. She never complained or silenced him. There was only the calming touch she’s always offered and words that stilled his uproarious sorrowings.

You need to get your shit together, he’d scold himself, but it was impossible to stop the recurring recollections of seeing Callie, beaten and bloody, her stomach swollen in late pregnancy and blood staining her inner thighs at the center of his home. Sometimes it was a swaddled mess of blood and small body parts, laid about the spot Nick was attacked in his backyard, but he could still hear loud cries of an infant carrying around the sky. He wouldn’t tell her, and he hoped she just assumed he was having relapses of his own nightmares that first plagued him.

Nick shuddered, but rolled his shoulder to shake off that unease. He’d face that hurdle later, when he was faced with it again.

The cold blast of rainy air from outside helped clear him up, but it only caused more discomfort as he found Matuk at a concrete bench at the far end of the loading zone.

He bumped his shoulder, shoving a cup under his nose when he turned.

“Callie insisted,” Nick said, and sat beside the younger Orc who still cradled his injured arm close to his chest and brandished the deep gashes across his face dealt from iron fists.

“Thanks,” Matuk mumbled, sipping nervously. He was bundled deeply in layers; Nick could only imagine what it was like dealing with shitty weather and recovering, but the kid was so silent; it never seemed to faze him.

“You come out here to ask about them?”

Nick shook his head. “I already talked to Morn,”

Matuk sipped his hot tea. “Callie make you?”

Nick nodded, sighing. “She asks about you a lot- wishes you’d come up and visit,”

The teen looked down at the drink in his hands, his thumbs flicking the lid noisily.

“She’s not mad,” Nick sighed.

He shrugged. “I let them get to her,”

“You were ambushed,”

“You telling me as a fact or to make yourself feel better?”

“Both, but I know it’s true,” Nick stated, looking at him, though he refused to look back. Nick looked up at the rain falling in sheets from the overhang, clapping loudly against the road and on tops of cars that were parked. “I heard it from the other ones that you managed to fight off 3 of those Volkis,”

“I still-”

“3,” Nick interrupted. “I’ve dealt with them before, at work. There must be something about those Russian bred Orcs cause it took me and 2 other officers to just get cuffs on one, but you took down 3, avall,”

Matuk lifted his head some, but still not towards Nick. “I’m sorry about your little one,”

They both looked in opposite directions nervously, more hardship on Nick’s part, but still gave the young one a nod in acknowledgement before standing and stretching. That was enough of the cold night for now.

“Callie says you should go home and rest. She already told like four others to take up your shift,”

Matuk scoffed, quietly. “Ordering people around?”

Nick nodded, grinning. “Says you should go spend time with Larek.”

Matuk’s ears flickered, and withheld spinning in Nick’s direction as he walked away, hiding the growing smirk on his face. Nervously, the younger Orc scanned his surroundings clandestinely. No one near by this time, so he let go of the breath he’d held. He pulled his phone out, finally finishing the message he’d been writing to Lala before Nick interrupted.

It was the same routine everyday: find one of the higher ups, ask for updates, do a once over of the area himself. There were double the Orcs now- all blended into the day to day bustle of a hospital, but all equally ready to throw down at a moments notice. Most were at the entrances, but a few were scattered up the halls to Callie’s room, always nodding at him as he passed.

But everyday passed that Gerrald was still at large was another day they struggled with paranoia.

Callie would tense worse than Nick every time someone knocked at the door and would sometimes thrash when a nurse came to check on her at night.

The panic attacks were worsening- it took hours to calm her sometimes, but he refused to let them sedate her and put her into a trance like state. He’d hold her for days if it meant she could come out of it clear minded, without having to worry about the after effects of drugs. Most of the time though, she managed. The bruises were at their worst, as were the gashes along her temple, cheeks and lip, but she still cracked smiles here and there, the occasional little joke. But he could see that depression lurking below the surface.

Some instances he’d catch her laying her hands flat over her stomach, staring off, picturing what could’ve been. He didn’t interrupt her, but always had his arms open and ready for her.

He couldn’t go back up to her room without another rice krispie treat- she was a sucker for them and always cheered up a bit with a little extra something sweet.

Nick stopped trying to look at the ‘Congratulations’ balloons and newborn teddy bears lining the check-out counter some time ago. There’d be no getting over it unless he faced it, and accepted it.

“We can always try again,” she mumbled softly, plucking at the zipper to his hoodie and her cheek mashed against his chest. He rocked sideways to better look at her, pulling hair from her cheeks when their eyes met.

“You’d wanna?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Eventually,”

Fingertips traced her tender face, sighing when he moved to rest his head against hers.

“Do you?” she asked, her nose flattened against his cheek when she craned her head back, but blew a raspberry when he only nodded. The look she gave him was all knowing, and there was a brief battle of furrowed brows until he buckled.

“I don’t want you to feel rushed or anything like that,”

“I don’t,” she fired back, kissing his cheek. “I want all boys,”

His head snapped in her direction. “Boys? Plural?”

She nodded. “I want a big family now that I know it can happen. Bunch’a little Nick’s running around.”

He couldn’t suppress the chuckle and wide smile imagining such a life of chaos and excitement. To see a little mutt of them sat on Callie’s hip, maybe a couple others running around the house, all brandishing unique features…

Nick hid his face, whimpering when she stroked the back of his head, stilling the commotion in his heart.

He placed the small congratulatory present back, confident that one day they’d get there, but for now okay coming to terms with everything else. The constant reminder of their situation did more and more to convince him that having a baby would’ve been the wrong time, too. Who knows how long this would drag on for.

With a few more treats snagged off the rows under the register, he was back en route to the elevators, nodding at every Orc before he finally made it to her room.

A soft rap of his knuckles against the door signaled he was coming in, but he didn’t expect Diego and Luciana to be by Callie’s side, laughing as she did.

“Hey baby,” Callie grinned, a small flash of a worried frown making him swallow a chuckle before he leaned over to kiss her cheek and place the rice krispie in her waiting palms.

Luciana always had warm hugs to offer, and would hold his face as she insisted he tell her why they didn’t see him enough. He’d hunch over, trying to remain serious despite his cheeks being squished.

“Sir,” Nick intoned, shaking Diego’s hand, but relaxing when he smiled kindly at him.

“How’s Matuk?” Callie asked, slowly leaning her elbows against her thighs when he sat beside her on the bed.

“Cold and grumpy,”

Her giggle was uplifting, her hand smacking the top of his a pleasant peak into more playful sides that had recently lain dormant. “You’d be grumpy too if you were stuck out all day in the cold,” she murmured, her cheek reddening when he kissed her fingers.

“Like you were never split,” Luciana cracked, causing Nick to hide his face against the back of her hand.

“You go back to work soon?” Diego asked, situating in his chair.

“Couple weeks,” Nick sighed. “I should take off more time-“

“No,” Callie shook her head.

“You need-“

“A couple weeks. I didn’t have my face kicked in like you,” she battled, making a face when he did.

“Mija you can always come stay with us,” her mother reminded, her dad nodding.

“I don’t need a nurse, I’m fine,”

“There’s nothing wrong with extra help,” Diego tried, but Callie shook her hands.

“I’m fine- I can walk and bathe myself and everything, I’m fine. I don’t need assistance for this,” she argued, notedly pointing to the cast on her arm.

Her parents stared at her, but she knew they were critically examining the bruises and cuts, probably weighing how affected by a brain bleed she could be having and not telling them. Her eyes narrowed, leaning back against the raised bed.

“No,”

“Calista-“

“I don’t need help,”

“It doesn’t hurt-“

“I’m staying with Nick I’m fine,”

“Maybe you should hear them out,” Nick mumbled, wincing when she pinched the back of his hand. Her glare of desperation silenced him, and he dropped his gaze. But they could both feel her parents looking at them curiously, probably wondering why she was being so adamant about taking care of herself when she’d never been one to deny a helping hand.

Nick looked at her again, and could see her building the courage in herself, taking a steadying breath before turning back.

“Ma I’m okay. I don’t have any internal injuries or anything. It was only this and a miscarriage,” she croaked, clearing her throat.

It took a moment for it to register, but Callie’s shoulders drew in when the shock flickered across their faces, their postures leaning in.

“Perdiste a tu bebe? Cuando? Cuando tiempo tenias?” Luciana dripped, her hands hovering over the bedding.

Callie’s eyes were already glossy, but she blinked rapidly and looked up to prevent the downpour. “I was only a couple weeks,”

Nick couldn’t look up. He couldn’t face them. He knew they must’ve known it happened while they were split; what would they think of him? Would they accuse him of taking advantage of her? Ask if he covered it up with a staged attack? Would they believe him if he said he could barely stand the thought of being so close to his own child and not knowing it?

There was a long, drawn silence. Her parents looking at one another, leveling with their own second-hand despair, and Callie stiffly holding her father's hand.

It was obvious they didn’t know what to say, or how to react. No one had expected this, especially from Callie. It had been long assumed she would never have any chance of having children, let alone conceiving, so was it better to offer words in hope of it happening again sometime in the future, or apologies that affirmed she could never be a mother?

“I’m sorry-for both of you,” Diego replied throatily, looking at Nick when he turned enough. “I have nothing to offer… my own daughter, I’m sorry I don’t have better words, but I’m sorry, mija,” he uttered, her small hand between his rough, old palms.

“Maybe another time.” Luciana tried, grinning sadly when Nick nodded and looked up at Callie, her eyes brightening again. The red around her iris was vibrant, and shining, the bruise about her soft cheeks deep. There was no looking at her without taking on a swell of emotions, but he’d smile everytime she did. He kissed her hand again, answering the question in her searching eyes:

Yes, of course we’ll try again.

With soft words of comfort and another tight embrace from her mother, the sour topic passed after questions were answered, hopefully not to be brought up again anytime soon. They still insisted she stay with them for the remainder of her recovery, but there’d be no telling them that living at their house meant endangering them. They didn’t notice the Orcs placed about the hospital, or how jumpy Nick was. Leaving them out of the loop was for their own good, even if it made Callie’s foot twitch at an accelerated rate when they left.

He distracted her with walks around the room, and even grabbing her hands to take the lead in a pitiful attempt at slow dancing, but it made her beam from ear to ear as he spun her slowly and did his best interpretation of something along the lines of a mambo. Her toes were crushed in the process, but she’d laugh and go along with it, eventually pressing her face into his chest when her giggles were uncontrollable.

Lunch was sitting in the cafeteria under a tall window that displayed the heavy rain cascading down the glass, and the two chatted quietly and ate, Nick soon enough moving his chair right beside hers so she could lean against him comfortably and continue to people watch.

They wandered back to her room when her vitals were demanded, but would again wander back out through the hospital, sometimes stopping to talk to the Orcs they’d come to know since her brief stay there. She wished Matuk would come in and say hello, but Nick told her of the guilt he obviously felt for her condition.

“If he doesn’t come in soon I’m gonna drag him inside.” she’d said, but yawned as they shuffled through the cafeteria line again for a quick dinner. Anything to avoid the hospital food that was delivered to her room.

↠

“You’re gonna chew through your lip, baby,” Nick mumbled, and she side-glared at him, switching to nibbling on her nails instead. He rolled his eyes. “They’re gonna be fine,”

“What if someone follows them home?” she asked, watching him move around the room.

“They wouldn’t know it was your parents,”

“What if someone was watching them?” she pressed.

“There’s 2 Orcs every five steps-”

“But you don’t know who else is watching while they’re watching,”

“I mean at this point, I think it would’ve been obvious if we saw any shifty dudes or rival Orcs around here,” he pointed out. “I did tell you to wait till we were home,”

“If I would’ve told them not to come it would’ve been more suspicious,” she groaned, slowly spinning on her bottom to lower her legs over the edge of the mattress.

“Could’ve said you wanted to sleep,” Nick mumbled, holding her hands as she stood slowly. She wrapped the extra length of the IV around her wrist, pulling the pump along as she scuffled to the bathroom.

“That’s a lame excuse,” she called out.

Nick kicked his shoes off, mimicking her silently. “Relieved you got it over with though?”

The toilet flushed, and she was shuffling back out, her sweats hung low on her hips and the tank-top twisted around her stomach. “Could’ve done without telling anyone, honestly,”

“Really?”

“Yeah-” she crawled back into bed, grunting and wiggling until there was room for him to slide in after he flipped off the lights and plugged the IV back into the wall. “Rosie knows, that’s enough,”

He slid his arm under her head, her knee pushing between his thighs and sighing in content when she snuggled against his chest, his warmth soaking through her clothes. His robust arms that shielded her from the outside were an immediate comfort. The stark reality they faced didn’t seem so daunting when she could curl against her rock like this, and know he was there to hide behind in tougher moments.

“You won’t tell your parents, huh?” she asked against his chest, and he shrugged.

“They haven’t even met you,”

She looked up at him, her hair feathering around her cheeks. “Wouldn’t they smell it?”

He craned his neck to sniff thoughtfully along her jaw and neck, his nose against her collar making her giggle. “It’s not on you anymore,”

A small, low hmph was all she emitted, her line of sight bouncing around. “Guess we don’t have to worry about that anymore,”

Nick was at a loss for words, so he kissed her chin sweetly instead so she’d curl back against him. She hummed softly when he rubbed her back, her small form melted against his. She toyed with the hem of his hoodie that had hiked up his side a bit, her nails occasionally scraping the skin on his hip, sending goosebumps firing up his sides.

The shift of her head moving woke him a little after he’d started to drift, and the delicate press of her lips under his chin opened his eyes.

His heavy hand moved up her arm as hers slid under his shirt, dragging up his stomach.

Nick chuffed low, conflicted when she kissed his jaw after he angled it up, but her knee sliding up his hip and her body wiggling closer brought him out of the dreamy state her hands and kisses were holding him in.

“Baby,” he groaned, his efforts useless to stop her from sitting up and sliding over his hips in one smooth motion, pushing back on his chest. “Callie c’mon,”

“Hm?” She was moving his head aside with hers, kissing his jaw, dragging her mouth around and massaging his broad chest as she better situated against his pelvis. Holding her form was automatic, as was moaning when she started to gyrate; slow, long grinds over the growing bulge under her pussy, her breathing accelerating as he fell further into her trap.

“Hey-” but she was kissing him, holding his face so he couldn’t pull away.

It was radiating off of her in potent waves, turning his blood to a rolling boil as he inhaled rapidly, letting it sink into his senses. When she was in this state, he wished she wasn’t straddling him so he could run and sit in the cold night, and let reality sink back in.

The desire burned in her viciously. It was expected, but it was like chewing glass when he’d have to deny her, the same thing day after day. They had been advised of the hormone drop and its effects after the first time her impulses had suddenly increased tenfold, but it didn’t make dealing with it any easier.

“You can always try again, but I advise waiting until after your next period to give your body some time to recuperate.” her doctor said, intentionally eyeing Nick who in turn looked at him questioningly.

Boy was he wrong about who would make the first move.

“Touch me,” she breathed, arching her back encouragingly when his hands slid upwards.

“We can’t,” he growled, but still exhaled hard, and slid his palms flat up across her ribs to cup her swollen breasts when she rocked harder over him. She moaned deliciously, clinging to him desperately as he pebbled and rolled her erect nipples between his fingers.

He was breathing heavily, his face mashed against her when he held her ass, admiring the way she rolled above him. His composure was faltering- he was losing his ability to say no the longer he breathed her in and touched her hot skin. He was careful to avoid the bruises along her body and the sore cut on her lip, always holding her jaw in lieu of her cheeks.

His head snapped up when she tugged down on his sweats, finding his dick severely rigid, and dripping with precum.

“Callie,” he whined, holding her hands when she started pulling his dick straight up, squeezing up his shaft. “Callie-” he gasped, but his hips were raising, and stiffening. It was near impossible to resist her touch, and the way she whispered sweet nothings to him that all muddled together in a soft song he couldn’t help but follow blindly.

“You can’t,” he tried again, clenching his fists against his forehead when she shimmied out of her own pants.

Small flickers of nightmares flashed before his eyes- images of her beneath Gerrald, screaming for help- he dropped his head back. No, no, no.

“Callie- Cal stop, you can’t, you have to rest, your body isn’t ready,” he rushed, but guiltily lifted his hips so she could tug his pants down further. Everything on her was alluring; her wet lips, her breasts hanging from her lifted shirt. Looking at her sex was enough- he wanted to ravish her, love her, put another baby in her.

His jaw clenched when the overwhelming flush coated him, his eyes growing heavier; it was almost like spiking a fever.

“I need this,” she breathed, leaning closer to him. “I need you, I can’t take it,” she whined, kissing him softly, her cunt brushing his shaft. She’d always say that, but until this night, he was able to stop her and take the silence she’d blanket him with after being denied, but it was obvious she’d reached her breaking point.

He growled deeply, his fingers lacing with hers when she balanced over him, watching her expertly move to his tip with a dip of her hips and position it just inside her entrance.

“We have to be careful-” she started to slide down. “They said you have to wait-”

“We’re not trying to make another baby right now,” she cooed, kissing his cheek when he looked away to breath, graciously accepting his entire length. “They didn’t say we couldn’t have sex. I need you, amore, I’m losing my mind,” she moaned, kissing his jaw again as she started rolling in long sweeps over him, her slick core sucking him in again and again.

“Fuck, Callie,” he sighed, his eyes closed and mouth agape, lazy hands sliding up her thighs as she fucked him.

“I can’t take it anymore,” she cried, gasping when his thumbs rubbed circles near her groin, his hands barely held against her hips that he loved watching roll back and forth. “I need you,” she again said, looking down between them. “I need you so badly,”

He was motioning to protest again, but she held steadfast, quickening her pace despite her stomach clenching uncomfortably. She couldn’t stand the desire anymore. It consumed her finer than cold water, and overwhelmed her thoughts, distracting her all day. It reminded her of the stunning absence in her body, and how she’d yearned for Nick’s touch- to be reminded of something familiar, and comforting.

“Please-” a desperate kiss, “Please, just this once and I won’t ask again-”

“Shh,” he hushed, her desperation evident, and it broke his heart.

Carefully he rose, his arm around her and slowly flipping them so she was pressed into the crisp bedding and he between her thighs, his mouth meeting hers in a loving lock as he pushed back in. She moaned, her face contorted in pleasure, holding around his shoulders tightly as he loved her.

She sang beneath him, thanking him in repeated kisses and soft whispers, her breaths coming in long puffs. Everything about her was alive, and vulnerable, and he felt twisted and fucking disgusting for enjoying this so much, but he couldn’t stand how sad she’d become when he’d deny her the love she so fiercely needed.

“What if someone comes in?” he puffed, looking at the door as his hips kept steady rhythm. She shook her head lazily, her hands sliding to hold his face.

“I’m getting close,”

He watched her limp body start to tense, her bruised face start to tighten. “Callie-”

“Don’t cum inside,” she breathed, starting to curl inwards. “Harder, baby,”

He covered her mouth when she cried out, struggling to fight off his own end he felt fast approaching. Nick dropped closer when her nails dug into his arms, and he smothered her carefully, slowing to deep, deliberate thrusts when she sobbed and clenched beneath him, her body a frenzy of pent up sensations and emotions finally flooding over her.

Put another baby in her- fuck her until she’s carrying your baby again.

What the fuck?

She held his face as he quietly approached his release, confessing his undying love to her before pulling out and burying his face against her shoulder to hide his confusion at his own thoughts, his load dripping across her bare stomach in spasmodic bursts. He grunted until he was spent, hovering over her, and looking up to kiss her cheek. If he hadn’t emptied across her stomach, he would’ve collapsed, lulled completely by her touch across his face and the soft thank yous she kissed into his lips.

But she looked so relaxed again. Her hand movements held no remnants of tension, her face no longer holding the strain of built stress.

“You look better,” he whispered, sliding his palm clumsily across her forehead to move her hair. She chuckled; so beautiful.

“I feel better,” she breathed.

At last he sat up, her knees over his thighs as he reached for a sheet they could discard.

What was once serene was now guilt as he watched her wipe away his mess from her bruised belly, rolling the sheet before tossing it near the biohazard bin.

The silence was nothing awkward of the sort as he helped her slip her panties back on when her casted arm started to ache, but he was sure she knew something troubled him by the way he remained perched at the end of her bed, looking over her partially bared form.

Callie bent her arms behind her head, tapping the side of her foot against his thigh so he’d look at her.

“Did I pressure you?” she croaked, but he shook his head insistently.

“No, baby, I’m just- I don’t know,” he exhaled, moving onto his knuckles to lay beside her.

At first, they laid shoulder to shoulder, his hand pulled back over her stomach as she smoothed her palm against his, but eventually she inclined to sit on an elbow over him.

“You can go home if you need to rest,”

“No, hell no- I’m fine,” he insisted. But something felt… off. A held suspense was lurking in his bones, something warm like a fever that he couldn’t quite shake.

“No pain?”

He shook his head. “Little bit here and there in the ribs, but I’m nearly back to normal,” he assured, twisting his index finger in her short curls. They looked at one another past the dark of the room, her eyes struggling to read him.

“Talk to me,” she said softly.

Nick thought, and tried to form what he felt, but conjuring the right words only made him feel like he would say something stupid. The longer he stared into that bloodshot eye and canvassed the bruising that only deepened by day made the unrest worse. He couldn’t sort his own shit- what the fuck was going on with his head?

“I’m just sorry,”

Her brows furrowed, her head cocking.

“I should never have left that day- I should’ve taken you with me,”

“You didn’t know it would happen,” she told him.

“But I knew something could happen,”

“Something happened to you, too, and a lot worse. I’m not the only victim here,” she said sternly, her voice above a whisper.

Nick swallowed. “We weren’t the only ones,”

Callie sighed, laying her cheek on his chest.

You did it- you said something stupid, you fucking-

“Do you think it would’ve been a girl or boy?” She asked, and although his mind was plagued with conflict, the what-if was as brilliant as the rain after a week of drought. “What if it would’ve been twins?” He snorted, covering his face. “Could you imagine?”

“I mean, a pair now means we wouldn’t have to try for another,” he reasoned.

“I want a big family,” she whispered, looking back at him again. He grinned, but it was momentary. What had once been hope was suddenly realization dawning on her. This happened often; they’d become carried away, speaking of preferences and names, and forget that not only did she just have a miscarriage, but that conceiving was still near impossible. They’d had unprotected sex for close to 9 months, and just now did this happen. Who says they’d be so lucky again?

The tears pooled in her eyes, and he held her cheeks, her brows starting to pull together.

“Baby,” he intoned, his thumb swiping away the quick tears slipping down her cheeks.

“He took my baby away,” she wept, pressing her face into his palm, and more tears spilled over despite her eyes pinching shut. “That was my only chance.”

She was cradled in his arms in a flash, just as hoarse sobs rocked her delicate form, her face buried under his chin.

He had to refrain from squeezing her when anger broke through the film of empathy in his heart. The ferocity coming off of him must’ve been palpable, for she hushed him gently despite still crying, bringing a hand to her lips for soft kisses, and even softer words of comfort.

God- why did he suck at this so much? Why couldn’t he offer the same comfort she did? All he could do was hold her, and rock her, and promise things would get better, but those promises were empty as long as he was running wild.

His strong arms tightened, and she became part of him, slowly calming under his touch until sleep pulled over her like a blanket.

Nick was left awake, alone with his thoughts, and the madness that encouraged him to swing and scream, and tear all of LA apart until he found the fucker who had infested their lives. He had only been back to his house once for their clothes, but seeing the destroyed door and turned furniture, and the spot she’d been assaulted…

Callie grunted and wiggled, and he lessened the strong hold he hadn’t realized he’d surrounded her with.

A few deep breaths, and forcing the stiffness in his neck and shoulders to relax helped pull him from that dark frame of mind, but even if he managed to sleep, he expected the nightmares to jostle him soon enough.

His eyes trained to the door, watching the occasional set of feet move by. Nurses working the night shift, sometimes a patient scuffling along, surely an Orc that was probably restless.

It was safest here, but all he wanted was for them to be home. He wanted to be in familiar walls, where he knew the exits and entrances and knew where he could get to his gun.

With a final wiggle deeper into the sterile bedding, he closed his eyes, hopeful that her presence would be enough to keep his own rampant thoughts at bay.

“Ow.” Callie winced, shuddering when the catheter slipped from her hand and the last of the tape pulled from her skin.

“All done.” the nurse chimed, properly disposing of the used items after taping the gauze over the small puncture wound. Callie shook her hand, pleased to have her hand back and not hook the taped IV on everything. There’d be a bruise on the back of her hand soon enough.

“Just yank it out next time,” Nick grumbled from behind her, his arms crossed and knee bouncing erratically.

Callie turned and glared, her brows arching in question. He motioned impatiently to the woman still picking up her station, but Callie waved him off, rolling her eyes.

“Have you gotten your discharge paperwork yet?” the nurse asked.

“No, I’m still waiting,”

“Well you can start packing up now so when they bring it in your can take off, hun.” she smiled kindly, avoiding any eye contact with Nick before leaving. Callie spun, and Nick’s knee stilled.

“Wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?” she hissed.

“She didn’t know what the fuck she was doing!” He exclaimed, standing to look over the aggravated skin of her hand. “Got another thing to worry about now,”

“Some people are better at it then others,” she reasoned, pulling her hand back and looking up at him, a little more light in her eyes than before.

He shrugged, still a little annoyed. “Ready to go home?”

“Hell yeah,” she exhaled, standing to dig through her bag to change. “I’m so over hospital food,”

“And nurses coming in every 10 minutes,” he grumbled, almost impatiently.

“Eager for some alone time again?” Callie intoned, peaking over her shoulder. There was something feral about the way Nick looked at her; like he was famished, and she was his main course. He looked like he wanted to eat her alive, or maybe judging by the way he scented her when her excitement grew and his own reaction became evident under his sweats, a different kind of eating…

“Nick-”

Soft knocks at the door, and Nick rushed to the bathroom, closing it quietly behind himself as he heard the door open.

“Oh hey,” Callie chimed, relieved when Rosie and Santiago walked in with reserved smiles. Her mouth had opened to question their strange behavior when Patricia walked in after them, side stepping awkwardly like a mannequin being placed in a room.

Callie retracted, her mouth tightening into a straight line.

“Oh, hey,” she said quieter, stepping back to where she had started.

The discomfort was evident on Rosie and Santi’s face as they struggled to situate themselves amongst the sparse furniture, Trish following suit, but perched on the edge of the bedside table.

“How’s it going?” Santi cut through the cold glares. “Where’s your boy?”

“Bathroom. I’m doing fine, getting ready to go home,” Callie answered, returning to looking for clothes.

“Did you decide to stay at-” Patricia tried asking.

“No, I’m going home,” Callie snapped, and Nick came out, a little awkwardly at that.

“Hey guys,” he said to them all, even Trish, but couldn’t withhold narrowing his eyes at her. He thought he’d be able to keep better restraint over his expressions when he saw her- that was one of the things they trained for to be a cop, but the gravity of her words, and Callie’s condition only made him livid.

“Goin’ back to work soon, homie?” Rosie asked, lifting some of the stress.

“Couple weeks,”

“Don’t even look like you were ever roughed up,” Santi commented, nodding as Nick did.

“Yeah, just a few scars left behind,” Nick mumbled, rubbing the top of his head. Callie patted his side and gave him a sly wink, in turn struggling to do much with her casted hand starting to ache considerably.

“C’mere, gimmee that,” Rosie stood quickly to help fold her clothes.

“Can I help-” Patricia spoke up too.

“No,” Callie snapped, cringing past discomfort if it meant keeping her sister away. Nick thought it better to make himself busy elsewhere. Rosie’s surprised brows almost made him chuckle, though.

A stiff silence filled the small room, and Nick could clearly read all over Santi how desperately he wanted to melt into the wall and leave the conflict of his sisters.

Patricia was fidgeting, much like Callie did; bouncing knee, biting lip, but her hands slid around each other nervously.

“I’m sorry, Cal,” Patricia exhaled.

“Fuck you,” Callie cracked, throwing her shirt down. Rosie’s hands retracted, and she stood awkwardly at the opposite side of the bed, her hands on her hips and shaking her head almost unnoticeably at Nick who worded ‘should we stop them’?

“I know what I said-”

“Save it- just fucking save it cause your apologies don’t mean shit, Trish. You have this wonderful fuckin’ habit of lashing out at people because they don’t do what you’d do and then you think a few sorry’s and a girls day can fix everything when it doesn’t, so don’t bother with the excuses,”

“I’m not making excuses-” Trish pleaded.

“Bullshit, you’re gonna cry about how stressed you are and how you only want what’s best for us-”

“That’s not what I was gonna say!” she implored.

“Or you’re gonna go on about ‘being able to see things from an outsider's perspective’,” Callie scoffed, moving towards the end table beside Nick. “Should’ve known you’d come after me. You did it to Rosie when Daryl came around so I should’ve known you’d find something to rage over when mom and dad liked Nick,” Callie went on, her demeanor otherwise calm compared to a flushed Trish.

“I just didn’t want you to end up a single mother like me-”

“I didn’t! It’s gone. I fuckin’ lost it, but even then, there was nothing pointing to me ending up like you just cause you got a weird feeling! From this point on, I don’t wanna fucking hear anything from you, even if I ever get pregnant again cause I’m so fucking over your shit, so fuck off!”

Santiago and Patricia both held the same expressions; complete disbelief, but Trish had stepped forward, her eyes wide with sympathy.

“You were pregnant?” she rasped.

Callie rolled her eyes. “Just caught that, huh?”

“Oh my god- Calista-”

“No, no no stop, just- just fucking leave, please? I wanna go home, so just fucking… leave me alone,” she pleaded, holding the heel of her palm against her forehead. Her bottom lip was trembling; Nick instinctively stepped into her space, his hand smoothing the back of her head.

“We’re leaving,” Rosie sighed, walking around the bed to hug her younger sister and hold her flushed cheeks. “Be safe, and rest okay?” she asked, Callie’s eyes filling with tears as her sister kissed her cheek and patted Nick’s arm before moving away.

“Let’s go.” Rosie told Trish, waiting for her to stiffly step away, yet giving Callie one final, pleading glance, but only received unbridled fury. “Let’s go.” Rosie said again. Finally, the eldest left with a last ditch effort of a glance at Nick, but he was unmoving in every sense. Santi stood from his chair, but reached to shake Nick’s hand, his palm placed over them thoughtfully.

“Better luck next time.” he mumbled, leaning to give Callie a chaste hug before following his sisters out, surely to be caught in the middle of more arguing on that car ride home.

“Calm down,” Nick hushed gently, kissing her cheek with his arms wound around her waist, bearing her weight she suddenly felt too weak to keep upright. With a turn, she was pressed against him, her face between her shoulder and his broad chest, sniffling, but already calming the longer she stood with him shielding her.

“That sucked,” she blubbered, and groaned when he rubbed her back. “This sucks,”

“It does,” he agreed, sadly, resting his lips against her hair. “Let’s go home where it doesn’t suck, though.”

Callie nodded and unwound from him reluctantly just as a discharge nurse came in to hand over the last of her paperwork and at home instructions, along with her next appointment reminder.

Nick layered her thoroughly; if there was one thing he learned about recovering from a beating, it was that the cold made it hurt more. He even pulled his beanie down over her head, grinning at the way her short curls twisted out from under it.

She held steady to his arm in lieu of sitting in a wheelchair, but it felt good to wobble farther than the length of her own room.

“Are these all Fogteeth?” she whispered, and he nodded.

“Been here since you got here,” he murmured, putting her on his other side as a few followed them onto the elevators alongside other staff of the hospital. The more that piled in, the more agitated Nick became. He could hear them scenting the air, detailing how available Callie was even if she’d just miscarried. Even if that was a norm in Orc culture, he didn’t like it. If she were with any other, they would’ve tried for another baby already; no wasting time in Orc households.

He moved his arm around her waist when one stepped behind them; one that was particularly bigger than Nick, with tusks that curled impressively, and he was most likely canvassing her from behind.

Since they’d woke that morning, Nick had had trouble restraining himself. Soon she’d start her period- he could smell it, which meant soon she’d be fertile again. The most alluring scent to anything non-human, including him. A deep, quaking yearn in his gut fought to stick another baby in her, but that also meant others were going to be feeling the same urge.

Like this one behind them that just took half a step closer.

The snarl from behind Nick’s bared teeth was immediate and involuntary, and startled the nurses greatly more than it simply confused Callie.

The Orc stepped back, glowering back at Nick. For a solid minute he thought fists would start swinging, with every second passed they fought with their eyes, but Nick’s seniority must’ve been enough to back him off.

“What’s wrong?” Callie whispered, patting his chest. He only chuffed, holding tighter around her waist as they waited their turn to exit the elevator after the humans rushed off, questioning under their breath to one another.

Nick pulled her out carefully, a departing glare to all of them. He was grateful for the rush of cold air when the sliding doors opening to the rainy weather outside, cooling the overwhelming heat he felt coming off him like steam.

What the fuck, he thought to himself, letting out a deep breath.

“Nick,” Callie called to him, and he looked down, finding her perplexed.

“What?”

“I’ve been saying your name for like a minute,” she told him, observing the confused state of his expression. “Lost up there?”

“I guess,” he exhaled. They made it to Matuk, who was again sitting at the bench beside the pick-up zone, looking up at Callie with bright eyes as she made it over to him. He rose in time for her hug, carefully squeezing her. Nick withheld another growl, opting to turn away.

The fuck is your problem?!

“How’re you feeling?” Matuk asked. “We both have fucked up arms,”

“I’m good, just tired a lot,” she grinned, stepping back to bump against Nick’s side, but he still didn’t turn around. “Did you manage to go home?”

“Here and there, but I’m okay,”

“You shouldn’t be out here looking like that,”

Matuk shrugged, awkwardly because of his sling. “Lala brings me food and company sometimes,”

Callie smiled, but winced when her split lip stung. “Ouch,”

Nick spun, looking down at her lip that had started to bleed again slightly.

“Shouldn’t be getting her worked up,” Nick snapped, and Callie looked at him with arched brows, holding a tissue against her mouth.

But upon looking back at Matuk, he was only suppressing a grin, his eyes squinted in humor as he looked elsewhere. “Yeah, sorry,”

“C’mon, truck isn’t parked that far,” Nick motioned.

“Yeah sure… see you soon?” she asked the younger Orc, who nodded and sat back down.

“Good luck recovering.” he said loud enough just for her to catch, and she shot him a questioning look over Nick’s arm around her shoulders.

It started to occur to Callie that everyone had been acting differently that morning and Nick was the one who seemed the most off. His hold around her was more protective than loving, his body stiff and composure alert. Worry started to seep into her bones; was he returning to old habits?

An arm looped around his waist did some to lessen the grip about her, and he seemed to calm the closer they came to his truck, but she could still sense something was wrong in his head. Probably due to their overall predicament, so she shoved it aside. She couldn’t blame him for being on higher alert.

“We’re going back to your place, right?”

Nick shrugged. “I dunno,” he effortlessly scooped her up bridal style to place her in the passenger seat, even when she protested. “Maybe it’d be better to stay at your place,”

“You think?” she asked, watching him move around the back of the truck. Nervously, she fidgeted, her line of sight jumping until he was sitting beside her and grunting. “Your ribs hurt?”

“Barely, more uncomfortable than anything,” he turned the engine over. “So how about it? Mine or yours?”

She pursed her lips. “More people around my place might make is less likely for them to come around again,”

“Closer to the hospital, too. You have an appointment coming up.”

She nodded. “Need to get our stuff though.”

↠

“Nick, I don’t need to be carried,” she giggled, patting his chest when he lifted her from the car again.

“Can’t be too careful,” he sighed as he set her down, offering an elbow again as they walked to his front door. The locks had been replaced, but the door still needed repainting, and he felt her resist at his side when he unlocked the door.

Nick could tell that Ward had tried spraying air freshener or lighting candles to cover the smell, but blood stained carpet like it did senses, which was why there was new rolls beside the moved furniture. An attempt had been made to lift the dark stains, but even if they’d pulled up some, the scent would remain. His table was gone and sat outside in shattered pieces, and destroyed picture frames were set upon the bar to his kitchen.

As Callie walked through the living room slowly, she tried to avoid looking down the hallway, but her bruised eyes lingered, and her body started to unsteady. She was standing right beside one of the stains, but Nick didn’t know if she noticed, her hands too busy cracking her knuckles to do anything else but stand and panic.

“Go sit down, I’ll get our stuff,” he kissed into her hair, turning her towards the couch. It was languid, but she nodded, blinking her life back into perspective before shuffling towards the sofa.

He threw it all into bags, worried more about keeping her longer than necessary. It occurred to him that he might never be able to bring her into his home again, and the thought troubled him, but if he could be at her home and make sure she recovered without any additional trauma, he wouldn’t complain.

Fuck, he’d sell his house if it came to that.

The bedroom was walked through once more, grabbing another sweater to stuff into the bag before moving to the bathroom and tossing more essentials in. He was just about to make it down the hallway when he stopped short, and returned to his room.

He pulled his Glock and badge from the bedside table, and reached high into the closet for the extra clip, but kept the gun in his waistband. Nick was honorable through and through, but at this point, if he saw so much as a glimpse of Gerrald, he wouldn’t resist shooting.

“All set, let’s go-”

She was hunched over, her arms beneath her chest and heaving into her palms, her shoulders shaking.

The bags were dropped and she was cradled against him faster than the snap of a whip. It was difficult to unwind her, but he managed to loosen her enough so he could hold her face, and keep enough eye contact to ask her to mimic his breathing and slowly, slowly bring her down from the panic she was being thrown from.

“Breathe with me, baby,” he said softly, moving her hair from her damp face. “We’ll go home and change so you can rest, and we’ll worry about everything else tomorrow, okay? Let’s get going so you can get comfortable,”

“I wanna stay,” she spoke huskily, her eyes cracking open. Even redder than before, now.

“We shouldn’t, you said so yourself,”

Her face soured, and he held her cheek. “I’m scared,” she hiccuped. He sighed and pulled her into an embrace, smoothing the back of her head as she wept quietly against him. “It feels safer here,”

“You’re safe wherever I’m with you,” he declared. “Even at your place,”

“Even here then, too,” she countered, a smallest of a grin making him chuckle.

Nick was still resistant, evident by the sideways purse of his lips. “Please?” she asked. “If it happens again, I’ll go home and not complain,”

“That’s not bothering me-”

“I think it was just the initial shock-”

“Calista,” he stopped her, holding her head. “Stop. Don’t drag yourself like that,” he told her sternly, ready to squash anymore of it. “We can stay, but the minute you can’t function, we’re leaving,”

“Thank you,” she exhaled, her eyes falling shut in relief before giving him a quick peck.

He wiped her cheeks before he gave her another sweet kiss, followed by a small hum from her. Callie still sniffled, but her hands found their way over his, holding him there as she leaned in for another.

Kissing Nick was like Dilaudid lulling you into calmness; his caresses had a way of keeping her suspended in a dream like state where only he existed and her issues didn’t rain so dominantly over her life. So, of course, she followed his mouth when he leaned back, her hands sliding from his and up his chest, fingers curling into his hoodie.

“Not again,” he groaned, powerless when her hot tongue slid into his mouth, eliciting a low groan.

“I know I said I wouldn’t ask again,” she paused to brush her lips against his, “But it’s a good distraction,”

He traced his sharp teeth across her jaw, biting gently down the length of her neck as her head fell back into the crook of his elbow. “You shouldn’t anymore,” he groused, grasping her thigh forcefully.

“You want to,” she moaned, her thighs parting and his hand dragging to her lower stomach. “I know you do,”

“Of course I do,” he whined, slipping under her layers to hold her waist, her hot skin provoking the fire he felt consuming his rational thoughts. “Of course I fucking do,” he growled, pulling her flush against him, his hand sliding under the bra strap across her back.

Callie moaned, and he lost most of his control.

Like she was weightless, he pushed her aside, onto the cushions of the couch, looming over her.

“Open up, baby,” he breathed, leaning into her welcoming hands and his hips rutting tight against her once her thighs had parted. He kissed her without reservation, conscious enough to remember the tender state of her face and body as he ravished her and started to strip piece by piece off of her.

He worshipped every part that was uncovered, starting with kisses along the inside of her knees once he’d peeled her tights off and ending with loving licks across her bare breasts, trembling with gasps as he fondled her delicately.

Nick groaned when he licked down her stomach. “I can smell how wet you are,” he whined, puffing against her skin.

Fuck her until she screams-

“I want you inside me,” she breathed, her hips raising just as he skipped back up her body, his eyes pinched shut and face pressed against her neck.

What the fuck is wrong with me-

Bite her- mark her, make her yours forever.

He chuffed, continually, as she slipped her hands under the waistband of his sweats, pulling long strokes down his hard member that swelled painfully.

“Put it in me,” she begged, her neck craned to catch his mouth as he hovered over her.

“Fuck, Callie,” he exhaled hard, his hips pumping into her hold.

He was taking long inhales of her arousal, his eyes flickering between her working hands and naked sex under him, so close, yet so far.

Slide in.

Heat enveloped him, and he felt light-headed. He moved her hands above her head, pinning them down by her elbows as his hips dipped and he pushed his way inside her, relishing in the way she sobbed beneath him in thanks.

Nick’s eyes fell closed, and he let himself become immersed in her sweet, soaked center, stroking every inch of him, enveloping him entirely.

Fuck her. Until, she, screams.

The sudden change in speed made her gasp, her eyes flying to his, but she didn’t ask him to stop. Her face tightened, but her knees instinctively rose closer to her chest, her mouth hung in breathless moans.

He kept hold of her arms as he lowered onto his elbows, his cheek pushing hers aside to bite harder than normal under her jaw.

She cried out, but ended with a snarl of her own, her legs locking against his lower back.

“Nick- oh my fucking god, I can’t-” she tried forming, but let herself fall apart, mumbling incoherently.

“You feel so fucking good,” he hissed, his face against her cheek, his voice wavering in time with his rapid thrusts. “You’re so fucking good,”

Make this pussy yours forever. Taste her blood and stick another baby in her-

What the fuck!?

Nick reared up, yanking her hips up to slap against his, his head leaned back and eyes closed.

If he kept breathing in her skin, he would bite her. Something inside him was stretching across his limbs, heating his belly with an unmatched desire he’d never experienced before. Everything about him was on fire- his skin, his thoughts, but the overwhelming need to sink his teeth into her skin and taste her blood scared him.

She’s your mate- she’s your woman. Mark her, keep her.

“Oh fuck,” he snarled, landing back on his hands, her touch winding up his rigid arms and to his shoulders.

“I’m close- I’m so close,” she panted, and sang when he shoved his hands under her knees and pushed them to her chest, firing into her.

Fill her up. Make her known to be yours- nobody else's. Fuck her and fill her with a baby so no one can touch her.

“There there there- fuck fuck fuck!” she hollered, her face pressed into her own arm beside her head, gripping his couch as her orgasm cascaded over her, pushing her spine into a stiff arch and her eyes back into her head.

Her walls pulsated around him and Nick bit into his own cheek when his head landed in the crook of her neck, pulling from her in time to explode across her slick sex. He growled lowly as his tip pushed between her coated lips, mixing their juices and stroking her sensitive clit.

The taste of his own blood brought him back eventually, and he looked up at her, his brows furrowing as hers did.

“Nick- oh my god, are you okay?” she asked, blood pooling from his parted lips as he struggled to catch his breath. “Holy shit,”

Bloody saliva dripped onto her chest as he leaned back, but she sat up, her hands following his face.

“What happened?” she asked, struggling to sit up, her body weakened by such a climax.

“Bit myself,” he slurred, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He could feel the deep bite with his tongue, and couldn’t fathom how she would’ve reacted if he’d bit into her like that. “Got too excited, I guess,”

“I’ll get you some tissue,”

“No, go clean up- you’re covered in my blood and…” he chuckled, turning her by the hips away from him. His semen was already leaking down the inside of her thighs, not to mention the heavy droplets of blood trailing down her chest.

“Are you sure?” she asked, backing up slowly.

He nodded, putting on his best smile with blood smeared across his face.

It wasn’t until he heard his bathroom door shut did he bury his face in his palms, taking deep breaths. Fifteen seconds since they’d fucked and he was already getting hard again just from seeing her coated in his blood and semen. Even his own blood? It appeared to be the next best thing to knocking her up, it seemed.

You need to get your shit together, Nick.

He swallowed more blood, standing to walk to his kitchen to clean himself.

His mouth was really gushing, even after he swished water in his mouth and spat a few times. The deep bite stung something awful when he stuck a finger between his jaws, and he groaned, half relieved that he hadn’t sunk his fangs into Callie, but also bummed that this would most likely cause him quite some trouble in the coming days.

“How’re you doing?” Callie asked, emerging from her room with one of his sleeveless shirts over her frame. Toned legs were still bare, and when she turned, he could see the side of her breasts.

She looks naked without your mark.

Before he let his raging thoughts dictate his actions again, he splashed cold water over his face, leaning onto his elbows over the sink. It stopped that same rush of warmth from firing over his skin, but his head still felt lighter, yet focused entirely on Callie as she walked towards him. He didn’t lift his face from behind his fists until she was beside him with a hand on his back, and even then, he wasn’t sure he could control himself.

“Bite bugging you?” she asked with utter concern in her voice, but he chose to nod.

“Hurts,” he cleared his throat, cupping water into his mouth again and spitting.

“What got you so worked up?”

Nick shrugged, lowering his gaze as his head dropped down against the knuckles of his thumbs. His line of sight followed the sculptured curve of her legs upwards from her feet, landing on her flat stomach she’d tied the shirt snugger around with a hair tie.

“You’re starting your period soon,” he half lied, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

“Mm,” she nodded, patting his back again and turning away in time to skip out on the hard-on he was building again. “Maybe we should hold off for a while before you bite your tongue off.”

He chuffed, licking his lips with bloodied tongue as she went about gathering their clothes.

More water over his face when she bent over.

“Yeah, maybe.”

If he tried hard enough, he could solely concentrate on her face while she spoke, and force himself to look elsewhere when his eyes lead his mind on a journey down her body.

But everyday she grew closer to her period, the more delicious she smelled.

If he had to get up and walk out into the cold night to stop from bending her before him, he’d take deep inhales against her stomach or thighs, holding his breath until that smack of frigid air knocked it from him. By then, the rampaging yearn to fuck her was chased away, ready to lie in wait for it’s next opportunity to pounce.

It didn’t help that she loved to sleep in nothing but underwear and that she seldom wore bras, even in public, or that she was always throwing suggestive glances his way.

It also didn’t help having Orcs around them 24/7.

He couldn’t tell her that when one of the males from the Fogteeth were being nicer than usual, it was because they were analyzing her. That when they suddenly stood taller, it was because they were waiting for her to choose the biggest bull.

There was Nick- big, broad, but smaller compared to other Orcs, and without tusks to show proudly.

But there was her undying loyalty, and the way she held his arm confidently in public and moved his arms around her ribs when they stood chest to back while waiting in line somewhere. There was also the way she whispered to him, asking him to put his hands on her with an impish grin. It was how her body reacted to the slightest brush of his fingers across the back of her neck, or a quick kiss to her jaw.

Yet where there was desire, now came an unquenchable appetite. He could roar with how impulsive it made him, but there was a greater need to silence it.

Callie still had a recovery ahead of her, and no matter how badly his body fought to impregnate her again, he wouldn’t burden her with such a thing so soon.

So he stared at the setting sun with stinging eyes while they stood on the pier, drawing his mind from it’s newest corner, even with his arms around her.

He still kissed her knuckles when they sat in the waiting room of her follow-up appointment, but clenched the arm rest with his other hand, his fingertips aching incredibly.

And while they sat across his couch, watching Netflix with her legs in his lap and her arms crossed behind her head, he’d let himself gaze upon her nipples showing through the camisole she wore, but would bite into his healing mouth when his fingers would start to drum against her knee in anticipation.

The three days that passed felt like weeks. Nearly every minute of everyday had been tactful.

Not to throw her beneath him and make sure no one laid with her again, or holler at other Orcs there when they stood just a few feet too close. They started groaning and rolling their eyes every time Nick came from his house to ask for updates, yet some would… snicker.

Especially when Callie made a move bolder than normal around them and they saw how much he struggled to keep his composure.

It pissed him off. More so that they clearly saw him battling himself and thought it humorous.

If he could find the quick moment alone with them, he’d hiss in Orkish under his breath, silencing them only temporarily. But how long was temporary? How long before he had control of his mind back from this unknown force?

“You should just come with me,” he grumbled, pulling his shirt down over his nearly healed body.

“I’ve had my share of hospitals for at least another year, thank you,” she grinned, leaning against the doorway to his room with a mug of Orkish tea curled against her chest.

“What if-”

“You said so yourself,” she said from behind the lip of the cup, earning a worried glance. “There’s more Orcs around now,”

“What if he brings more people with him the second time around?”

“Baby,” she sighed, and he looked at her once he’d finished pulling on his Nike’s. “You’ll be back in 30 minutes,”

“So come with me if it’s so quick!” he begged, holding her sides and pulling her closer.

“I’m tired though,” she groaned, leaning against him with her mug off to the side. She placed a soft peck on his jaw and another on his lips when he looked down at her. “I’m gonna nap while you’re gone,”

He only whined lowly, his arms around her tight as his reluctance grew, but his mouth wandered down her neck. Her legs already felt weak, and she blindly stuck her arm out to find the edge of his dresser, suspecting that the mug actually hung precariously off it’s ledge when she placed it there.

“Are you actually gonna fuck me this time?” she breathed, holding his face to kiss him forcefully.

“Can’t,” he paused to taste her tongue. “Have to go,”

That was a lie. He could’ve thrown her back and fucked her until she went blind, but he didn’t trust himself to be careful with her when he was already shaking with restraint.

“Nick, come on,” she moaned, her arms snaking around his neck, pulling herself up to attempt wrapping her legs around him.

Before either of them looked at his ringing phone, they both knew it was Ward; it was always Ward.

“Gotta go,” he kissed against her mouth, carefully unwinding from her hold to leave her disheveled and irritated.

“Nick Aleksei Jakoby!” she snapped, following him out, but he only pecked her cheek again at the door and walked out. If he’d faced her, and the way her shirt was hiked up her front with her hair in her face, he would’ve collapsed and given in. It had to be like this- he had to sort his shit first.

His knee always acted up when he walked this briskly, but he was purposely rushing to avoid the Fogteeth around too. He could already hear their laughter.

“What’s good, Jakoby?” Ward asked, waiting patiently in his sedan.

“Same old,” Nick grunted, sitting in the cramped passenger seat.

“No cane today?”

Nick side-eyed him. “Haven’t needed it in weeks,”

“Don’t look so old anymore,” Ward grinned, pulling onto the street.

“Can’t say the same about you.” The Orc shifted, hesitant to look at his partner again, but couldn’t help but chuckle at the way Daryl glared at him.

“Someone’s gonna take another swing at you if you keep it up.” Ward teased.

It took a great deal of coordination, but Callie finally managed to make it out onto the porch with two mugs in hand, scanning the multitude of cars parked on the street until she found the fire engine red Ranger with the California lift at the farthest end.

A female Orc peaked over at her and Callie raised her mug, shuffling over to the small patio set to sit before the same graceful, tall, lean woman joined Callie, pushing her sunglasses up over her head wrap.

“How you doin’, lambchop?” Morn asked, leaning over for a quick half-peck on Callie’s cheek before grabbing the extra mug with an appreciative smile.

“Sore, restless,” Callie sighed, also putting her feet up when Morn did, her burgundy Doc Martins thunking loudly against the wooden railing. “Aren’t you cold in that fishnet?”

Morn looked down at her legs, shrugging in her denim vest covered in patches. “Warm blooded,”

“Hm,” Callie nodded, sipping her tea. “Any updates?”

“I wish. Those bastards fell off the face of the Earth,” Morn mumbled, her chin rested in her palm as her brilliant eyes watched Callie sigh and shift. “Haven’t seen you outside in a while,”

“Nick’s paranoid. Going out made him too nervous,”

“Even out front?”

Callie nodded.

“How’d you manage to get him to leave without you?” she laughed, her long tusks adding ferocity to her fanged smile.

“Tried to jump his bones,” she murmured into her cup, still a little deflated from it. “I don’t think he likes looking at my face like this…”

“That’s not it, babycakes,” Morn giggled, settling deeper into her chair.

“What?”

Morn looked at Callie, and sat forward with a grunt. “Has he been really fidgety lately?”

Callie blinked, and nodded.

“Moody?”

She nodded again.

Her dark, patterned hand rested over Callie’s and her leg started to bounce nervously.

Is he gonna break up with me again?

“He’s in heat,”

Her mouth opened, but then closed. “Heat… what?”

“You boy is hot to trot, but now ten times stronger and fueled by instinct,” Morn sat back again, flicking her sunglasses down as she kept vigilant surveillance over the house.

“Male Orcs go into heat?” Callie exclaimed. “He’s never done this before,”

“Probably never been around so many other big bros like this. It’s probably happened when he was younger, just different severities since you were… pregnant, and all…”

Callie pursed her lips, piecing it all together. “So he wants to fuck?”

Morn nodded.

“Then why doesn’t he?! He’s been avoiding me like i have the plague!”

“Cause you’re human, lambchop, he doesn’t wanna break you,” she snorted. “You haven’t been fucked until you fuck an Orc in heat- look,” she finished, quickly placing her mug down to move the back of her headwrap aside and shimmy her vest down her shoulders enough to display the deep bite marks covering the back of her neck. But it wasn’t just there- it was the scars covering her arms and shoulder blades, and some even on her throat.

“Oh my God-”

“Before you start,” Morn started, hushing a distraught Callie. “It was my husband. It wasn’t out of anger or anything, just exactly what munguz is going through,”

“So… they- they bite instead of fuck?” Callie stuttered, and Morn laughed out loud.

“It’s part of it, after they’ve kept you on the brink of stroking out during sex,” she chuckled, sipping more of her tea.

“That intense?”

She nodded. “That good. It’s worth it, but expect blood. There’s always blood,”

“And biting?” Callie asked, rubbing the fading one under her jaw.

“That’s a nibble compared to what he can do,”

Was it strange that excitement stirred in Callie’s belly, and she bounced her heel thinking of the kinds of things Nick was capable of in such a state?

“You naughty bitch,” Morn grinned, winking and flicking her nose in acknowledgement when Callie looked at her, her cheeks turning a few shades redder. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,”

“It’s kind of tempting,” Callie admitted, squeezing her thighs together when her legs crossed. “How bad does it hurt?”

She shrugged. “Their teeth are so sharp that you don’t feel it till their spit makes it sting, but Nick’s tusks are blunt so it might hurt more,”

“And the bite? Does it mean anything?”

“You're his. No other Orc will ever lay with you as long as you have a bite, but I can’t say the same about you humans the way you pass each other around…” she mumbled, winking again. Callie halfheartedly smacked her arm. “I’ll tell the others not to interrupt if we hear screams later tonight,”

“What if he’s ripping my throat out?”

“You’ll enjoy it even then, trust me.”

Callie kneaded her lower lip, avoiding the scabbed cut, and staring forward. What started as worry now ended in determination, and the smallest hint of hesitation. To think that Nick, who was already surprisingly talented in bed after a lonely life, had the potential to be even greater was almost daunting, but it was alluring.

She’d promised she wouldn’t beg him for sex until her next period… but she’d already broken that promise.

One more time wouldn’t hurt, right?

“You should head back inside,” Morn finished the last of her cup. “We’re gonna switch shifts here in a couple minutes,”

Callie rose, gathering both mugs again. Morn was mindful of her bruised cheek when she pressed her own against Callie’s during a quick hug, but stopped to hold her shoulders.

“Am I gonna find you dead in the morning?”

Callie snorted. “I’m tougher than I look, y’know.”

With another pat to her face, the goddess like Orc skipped down the steps, seemingly weightless despite the heavy boots upon her feet and denim vest, her wallet chain bouncing against her thigh as she strolled across the yard.

Callie struggled again to open the door with her casted hand, but successfully made it to his sink without a broken mug.

She padded across the carpet to the bathroom, and looked at herself in the wide mirror, moving her fringe back to properly inspect the status of her healing face. She groaned, reaching to pull her T-shirt up, but wincing again at the sight of her bruised stomach and sides. Softly, she slid her palm across her flat belly, down below her belly button where if she were still pregnant, a swell would start to soon form.

The shirt was dropped. It was still too much to take on in random bursts like that.

But a deep breath and her shoulders squared kicked her back up to where she’d been before: tempted as all hell to see Nick’s monstrous side.

“Gotta love distractions.”

↠

She kicked the blanket off her legs when she heard his familiar footfalls approaching the front door and she settled in time for him to walk in, double checking everything was locked before relaxing his posture.

“Hey baby,” he exhaled, leaning over the back of the couch to give her a quick kiss. She saw his eyes land on her legs; already working.

“Everything go okay?” she asked, pulling her knees up when he circled the sofa.

“Cleared to go back to work next week,” he told her, kicking his shoes off and pulling his hoodie off to leave him in his sweats and muscle shirt.

“Feel good enough to go?” she asked, withholding a grin when he pulled her legs into his lap and unconsciously started rubbing them.

“Dunno. I’ve come to like being a couch potato,” he frowned, squeezing her thigh before drumming his fingers against her elastic skin.

“Has he been fidgety lately?”

She smirked. “A shut in is more like it,”

“Not my fault we’ve had a psycho after us,”

“Hey I never said it was mensito,” she scowled, her knee tilting to hit his chest.

“I know- sorry,” he mumbled, patting her inner thigh.

“Moody?”

“S’okay,” she whispered, ever so slightly opening her knees and adjusting her hips. Nick’s eyes flickered over and then met hers.

A thick roll of goosebumps carried down her arms and legs when she caught his eyes dilating this time, his nostrils flaring as he scented her. The hand that was so gentle on her leg before was tightening, but Callie was the one to hook her knee over his so the blanket slid off, revealing the pair of royal blue panties he had bought for her long ago. He suspected that’s all she was wearing beneath the baggy sweatshirt, and his head fell back against the cushion, his eyes still locked with hers.

There was no escaping it this time, and that thought alone didn’t scare him anymore.

Fuck her senseless.

Nick swallowed. I want to.

“Tócame,” she breathed, her knee sliding up beside his pec. “Tócame todo,”

It looked like for a moment he would resist by the way his hands retracted, but Callie wouldn’t give up so easily.

For a short while, she could forget they were under constant surveillance or that there was a fucking lunatic out for their blood- that both of their faces had been beaten in. She wanted to return to familiarity and that meant being with Nick in a way she’d been with no other.

Fuck anyone who would try to disrupt that.

Callie could be incredibly nimble, proven by the way she was sudden sat in his lap, wiggling her hips so there was no space left between them.

He grunted when she tested the swollen member beneath her barely clothed pussy, wide hands holding her cinched waist as she held his face delicately.

“I know what’s been wrong with you,” she breathed, angling his face up when he watched his hands circling the crease where her thighs met her hips. “I can fix it,”

“Nothin’s wrong,” he growled, graciously accepting her kisses, a deep rumble resounding in his chest.

“You say that like you haven’t been avoiding fucking me,” she said outright, and his eyes faltered.

“I haven’t-”

“You have,” she said against his jaw, blunt teeth scraping down his neck. He let out a high-pitched whine as he curled a hand behind her neck to pull her hair aside, placing wet kisses along her pulse.

“We have to wait till-”

“You’re in heat,” she said, looking straight at him. “I’m starting my period soon and that’s why you’re acting skittish. That’s why you bit yourself,”

It took mere seconds for Nick to put everything together, and it was obvious. He’d gone through it in his 20’s- how could he fucking forget what it was like? Probably cause he’d never knocked anyone up before…

“So let me help,” she moaned into his ear, pulling her pussy slowly over his aching dick, her hips settling into a steady, gyrating motion that made his eyes pinch shut. Thick fingers dug into the silky smooth skin of her hips, and he looked down to marvel at the sight.

“We can’t,” he said lowly, his last shred of decency hanging on.

Slide in.

“What do you wanna do though?” she asked, her mouth against his cheek as he tried looking away. “Tell me what you want,”

Say it, you fucking coward- she wants to hear you fucking say it.

He grabbed her jaw carefully, his thumb pulling down her bottom lip.

“I wanna fuck you until you see double,”

She pulled her shirt off over her head, throwing it aside as his hands dragged up her slim sides, his thumbs pebbling her standing nipples while his palms pushed her tits together. “Keep moving,” he slurred against her chest. She held the back of his neck, whimpering when he bit down on the top of her breast harder than usual, but kissing the reddening flesh afterwards, his hands having dragged down her ribs roughly to pull her ass back and forth over his throbbing cock.

It wasn’t long before he yanked her upwards by the shoulders high enough to tug her panties roughly down her thighs, nipping at her collarbones as she clumsily kicked them off her feet. But before she could sit, his hand cupped her damp sex, a finger pressing between her lips to find her slick clit.

Callie moaned, her forehead against his as he dipped his middle fingers into her center the same time his tongue slid into her mouth.

He knew to stroke upwards in a come-hither fashion, and knew she would tremble and sing above him, but he didn’t expect her to grind against his palm, his digits sliding in and out of her heat.

“Fuck you’re perfect,” he gasped, watching with intensity as his girl danced above him, evoking the mightiest burn in his belly yet.

Say she’s yours-

His fingers left her and he made quick work of pushing his sweats down his narrow hips, using his thumb to push his dick down to align with her entrance.

Make her scream it- make her scream your name-

Four loud knocks on his door stopped them both and his head spun just as she had started to slide down him. But she was frozen now, her arms covering her chest and her eyes wide in panic.

“Nick-”

He hushed her, moving her aside and pulling his hoodie down over her body before urging her to stay put. She questioned what he was doing when he reached under the couch, but instead held a hand over her mouth when he pulled his Glock out, cocking it before holding it steadily between his palms as he moved to the door.

He crept up on the peephole, hesitantly looking through, but then exhaled angrily and unlocked the door with ferocity before swinging it open.

“Munguz,” Dorghu nodded, looking at Callie when she stumbled to Nick’s side, but still kept behind his arm. A slight waft of the air let him in on everything he needed to know, as well as the Orc behind him. “Didn’t mean to interrupt,”

Callie flushed, but Nick glared.

“What do you want?” Nick snapped, more vehemently than meant.

“Not to shoot you again,” he joked with a straight face, and Callie’s eyes narrowed, her head cocking.

“Excuse me?” she cracks.

“Don’t freak her out,” Nick grumbled in Orkish and Dorghu scoffed.

“Anything we talk about from here on out will likely do so,”

“Then don’t make remarks like that-”

“Hey hey, English,” she demanded, the back of her hand hitting Nick’s chest.

One of the Orcs chuffed quietly, and Nick’s chin raised, a louder one coming from him. Dorghu blocked their line of sight from one another.

“We have business to attend,”

“Like?” Nick asked impatiently.

“We found Gerrald,”

That halted Nick’s attitude and stopped Callie’s heart. She grabbed his arm for balance and he sidestepped, almost asking him to repeat what he’d said.

“Where was he?” Callie asked, clearing her throat when her voice betrayed her.

“Two Hands,”

Callie shuddered, holding her arms. “Creepy fucker,”

“Where’s he now?” Nick asked.

“At our warehouse, and I’m letting you decide what happens to him,” Dorghu answered, and Nick exhaled, leaning against the doorway. Callie eyed him.

“I’m a cop,”

“You’re also Fogteeth now. It didn’t stop him, so why should it stop you?” the scarred Orc asked, and Nick’s head retracted some, sighing heavily as his arms crossed, the gun still clenched in his fist.

“Hello I’m still here, what’s going on?” Callie asked, but Nick’s eyes were trained on Dorghu, flipping his words over and over in his thoughts. For weeks he’d fantasized of curb stomping Gerrald, so why was he so apprehensive now? After he’d tried taking Callie? What could he have done to her if no one had intervened.

His index finger tapped against the gun a few times before saying, “You’re staying here,”

“What-” Callie tried to ask, but Nick was already moving towards his room. “Where exactly are you running off to?”

“I’ll be back soon,” Nick said, already changing into jeans when she had followed him.

“I’m not staying here,” she argued, brows arched in determination.

“You can’t go with me.”

“Do you really think for one second I’d let you leave alone with the dude who shot you!?” she hissed, and he looked at her pleadingly, wishing for just this one time she wouldn’t fight him. He knew what would happen if she confronted him despite the anger he knew she held. Her panic would get the better of her.

“There’s a lot more to that,” he chose to say, pulling his muscle shirt off.

“Nick,” she ground out, on his heels as he walked to his closet. “Nick!”

“NO!” he snapped, spinning to face her. The bitterness was clear in her big eyes, but he held steadfast, fighting to keep this riled mask on. It worked; she stomped away from him and out of the room, and he heard the bathroom door slam. His hands dragged down his face, and after a moment of collecting himself, he yanked a jacket from a hanger and slipped his boots on.

He approached the bathroom door, knocking gently. “Cal?” No answer.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Still no answer. He exhaled, unwillingly walking down his hall and to Dorghu who was still waiting at the door with a cigarette perched next to a tusk.

They lead him to the sleek, black Cadillac still running on the street, and Nick couldn’t help but wonder if this was all an elaborate scheme just to get rid of him. But he was already opening the back door, and was met with Callie’s gaze sitting across the seat, her arms crossed and still in his pull-over.

His jaw dropped. “How-”

“She’s sneaky,” Dorghu commented, setting himself in the passenger seat. Nick growled lowly and climbed in, slamming the door beside him.

“Why couldn’t you just stay home?” he snapped.

“Look what happened last time I wasn’t with you when I should’ve been.” she snapped back, her red eye and battered face rekindling a great guilt in his heart. Nick’s mouth closed and he leaned away from her against the door. That stung something fierce.

For once it was his knee bouncing instead of hers, and he was silently surprised at her level of tranquility as they drove deeper and deeper into Orkish neighborhoods, but she still peered out the dark windows curiously, her mouth sometimes dropped open when they passed a soaring church or an outlet still bustling with Orcs.

She leaned tentatively over by his window, but would retract when he looked at her.

Humans seldom wandered into Orkish barrios like this. It wasn’t even because they thought Orc’s were violent from birth- it was the humans own assumptions. Rumors often spread of the occasional attack, but Orc’s suffering under the hands of police brutality and discrimination were never heard of. But in neighborhoods like this, where even the police seemed to avoid, violence rarely broke out. Their way of life was undisturbed and they liked it like that.

It worried Nick bringing Callie in; he didn’t know how they’d react to her even if she was a sweetheart through and through, but the farther they moved from the busy streets, the more he calmed.

The lights became dimmer and sparser, and soon they were winding through empty streets lined with dark buildings and Callie’s curiosity had gone. She nervously glanced out of the window every now and then, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

Nick sighed and tugged on her shoulder, lifting his arm when she looked at him.

She slid over under his arm, immediately calming pressed against his side. He looked her over, his brows furrowing.

“You’re wearing pants, right?” he questioned under his breath, noting her bare legs, but she lifted his sweater enough to show her shorts beneath.

He nodded, looking back out the window as the car pulled before a wide warehouse sat at the edge of a loading dock beside the bay. “Sneaky thing.” he mumbled.

Nick held his hand out for her as they stepped from the SUV and didn’t let go as Dorghu and the nameless Orc beside him lead them to the warehouse, a cigarette still between his fingers, while he kept his eyes trained on the multiple Orcs standing beside the entrance, some brandishing the 79 jerseys while others wore the leather vests signifying their higher status.

He nodded when others acknowledged him, but started to feel annoyance prick at his skin when some looked Callie up and down, her being oblivious to it all.

The heavy door leading into the warehouse was opened and Dorghu motioned for the couple to follow.

Nick pulled her past the two standing at either side of the door, but still caught when a younger one, who hadn’t earned his number, leaned in towards Callie and scented her boldly, his teeth bared proudly when she flinched and looked at him.

The noise Nick made could’ve been a snarl, but it was booming, more like a roar as he forced his way between them and stood toe to toe with the young one, snarling back just as loudly.

“Evgeni,” Dorghu barked, his thunderous voice making Callie flinch again. Her hand was still clenched in Nick’s, watching him rip loud growls out like he was a lion. Nick chuffed once more loudly as the younger Orc lowered his head, stepping away when Dorghu approached him menacingly.

Callie watched with wide eyes from behind Nick’s shoulder as Dorghu followed his movements silently before pointing in her direction.

“Do it again,” Dorghu ordered, and Evgeni looked at him, confusion lining his face.

“I said scent her again!” Dorghu yelled, and Evgeni stuttered some before slowly moving to Callie, leaning in to scent her quietly this time as she leaned into Nick who in turn was growling loudly, his lips pulled back over his sharp teeth. This time he backed up quickly, his eyes still downcast.

“What did you smell?” Dorghu asked, but Evgeni only shrugged, swaying a bit. “What did you smell?” Dorghu hollered, and Callie flinched again, muttering ‘Jesus christ’ under her breath with a hand over her chest.

“Munguz,” he answered sheepishly.

Dorghu stepped beside him and they could see the distress on Evgeni’s face.

“And what does that mean?” the leader asked, and Evgeni’s angry, golden eyes flashed at Callie quickly before looking away.

“They’re mated-”

“You don’t ever advance on another Orcs pair. In the laws that stand highest in our clans, you are never to advance on another- Orcs- pair!” he yelled, his mouth close to his ear. “Even the roundtooth. You will learn before you ever wear our cuts.” Dorghu ended in a snarl, walking back to the open door and leaving the youngin distraught and embarrassed.

Nick pulled Callie along with a final chuff and they were lead into a massive structure full of storage units on either side, all marked in Orkish with various guards set about them.

They walked to the end, and before Dorghu turned to speak to three Orcs standing beside a half-open pull down door, Nick could smell blood. His nose scrunched and Callie’s attention was brought back before them when the loud metal door was pushed up.

“Go ahead.” Dorghu told him, stepping aside.

Nick hesitated and looked down at Callie, who was equally apprehensive. He let her hand go, squeezing the back of her neck affectionately before stepping before the opening of the unit.

He hung from chains clipped to the ceiling, his wrists forced above his head as he hung lifelessly above a growing pool of blood. The various used weapons around Gerrald told the story before Nick stepped close enough to see part of his beaten face and ruined clothing and resisted flinching when he found enough strength to look up at him with a heavy head, his one open eye landing on Nick.

“Still alive y’pig face’fuck?” he slurred, bloody saliva dripping from his split lips.

Nick was unmoving, his body tensed and eyes wide at he stared down at him.

Gerrald smiled, many of his teeth gone and gums ripped. “What? S’prised I’still look better th’n all of youse? All you blue skinned fucks?” he asked vehemently, groaning when his body jostled and wiggled against the taut chains.

Nick still stood, staring, and the longer he did, the more agitated Gerrald became. He tried standing, but his left leg bent unnaturally at his shin, causing a yelp of pain. He strained against the chains digging into his wrists, his broken body contorting and twisting.

“Make a move! Do it, you pathetic piece of shit!” Gerrald yelled, blood spitting before Nick. His fingers started to crack at his sides, his ire growing.

“Scared aren’t’chu? No matter what happens, ’I’ll be th’one to walk away,” Gerrald chuckled, his wide grin making Nick’s stomach roil. “You’re nothin’ but a stupid an’mal,” he went on, watching Nick move calmly away to grab a wooden bat at his side, and study its weight in his hands.

“You can’t do it,” he sneered, bloodily. “You couldn’ even sto’me from getting to Valeria-”

The bat was yanked from his hands, and before he finished turning, Callie had it swung back over her shoulder and whacking it into Gerrald’s ribs, a sickening, crunching cough exhaling from his body.

She did it again, the wooden bat smacking into his ribs, hips, knee caps- she hit him with every fiber of strength in her body, her wrist screaming in pain, but it all muted.

“Fuck you-” she uttered and swung again. Gerrald wheezed, his eyes wide in horror, his body twitching to move away. “That’s not-” another crunching swing, “My-” one to his side, “Fucking-” a weaker one; she was starting to tire and pant, “NAME!”

The bat snapped with another swing into his knee and she threw it aside, resorting to grabbing his hair and throwing her fisted hand into his pulp like face.

“You disgusting piece of shit-” she ground out, her cast bloodying as she slugged into him.

“Callie!” Nick finally moved to her, his arms throwing around her waist when he couldn’t grab hold of her lightning strikes. He lifted her away, having to spin to yank her hold from his scalp.

“I’ll fucking kill you! I’ll fucking rip you apart!” she sobbed, fighting Nick’s hold as he carried her away.

“Callie calm down-” he tried saying, but she was wild with rage, even throwing her elbows back at him as he struggled to silence her.

“Give her to me!” Matuk stepped forward, carefully snatching her arms so Nick could place her on her feet. She still protested, but calmed considerably when Nick was no longer around her. He watched her move away, tears staining her cheeks and steps uneasy.

He was speechless and unable to even move as he watched her, waiting for her to spring into action again, but when she followed Matuk down the hall, the tension in his frame lessened and he looked to the Orcs who were also watching her, their expressions all perplexed.

“Is he alive?” one asked, and Nick and Dorghu turned.

Gerrald was either beaten into a coma or dead judging by the way he hung lifelessly, the broken bat beside him.

“Strong girl,” Dorghu mumbled, and Nick looked down. Had she been hurting so badly?

“What now?” Nick asked.

“You don’t want a swing at him?”

He shook his head. “She did more than I ever could,” Nick sighed, rubbing the heel of his palm against his forehead.

“I’m still leaving it to you to decide what we do with him,” Dorghu stated, crossing his arms. “Drop him off on the side of the road? Drop him in the bay with cinder blocks around his ankles? Torture him with rabid Brezziks?”

“No,” Nick stopped. “Turn him in,”

Dorghu dropped his chin, looking at the roundtooth in an arrogating manner.

“He has a wife and children who deserve to know what a fucking monster he is,” Nick explained, and Dorghu shook his head.

“You can drop the cop motif when you’re here,”

“It’s not that. He took my family away but I won’t cripple his. I’m not like him,” Nick rumbled, looking at him with finality.

Dorghu was reluctant, but with a hard exhale and the lighting of another smoke, he nodded, both of them looking at Gerrald who sometimes twitched.

“I’d like to go home now.” Nick said, turning to find Callie.

Down the hall and around a corner he found her, squatting against a wall with her face hidden in her arms, her casted, bloody, and probably sore arm hung over her knee. Matuk was beside her, his lumbering form crouched down beside her and trying to offer comfort, but she didn’t move until Nick called her name.

Her head shot up, her red eyes finding his before she stood and walked into him.

He held her tight against his chest, hushing her string of blubbering apologies muffled into his shirt.

There was no need for fear, or unease, or tears anymore. The pain they’d carry about their lost family would follow them indefinitely, but the constant state of looking over their shoulders and their held-captive lives was gone. It washed over Nick the longer he held her, his fingers twisting in her hair as she latched onto him tightly.

It was finally over.

She remained under his arm again during the car ride, but this time with her arms around his waist, her face buried in his chest. With every mile put behind them, it was a great relief to know there would be no more attacks, and that they knew where he was and would be staying for now.

They made it to Nick’s house and as she walked to the front door, Nick thanked them, calmly, bumping forearms and agreeing that when they needed his cop connections, he’d do so willingly. It was the least he could do for payback.

The street cleared of SUV’s and Orcs, leaving them in solitude for the first time in nearly six weeks. It felt a little odd- the sudden lack of protection left him worried, but he was also confident that if anyone dared come after them again, he’d rightfully shoot them down.

With a final overlook of his street, he followed Callie inside.

He double checked his dead bolt, and took his gun from his kitchen with him into his room where he found he sitting at the foot of his bed, looking down at her cast.

The gun was returned to the bedside table, and he sat next to her, her form swaying.

“Hurts?” he asked, and she nodded, her thumb running over the stained blood.

“Gonna have a hard time explaining what this was from,” she mumbled. He craned his neck to look it over.

“Say you whacked an asshole in the face for harassing you,”

She scoffed. “Isn’t that what happened though?”

They looked at one another and his shoulders dropped when she pulled his hand into her lap, her small hands trying to envelope his.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly.

He paused, but then nodded. “Kind of messing me up a little, actually,”

“Why?”

“I thought I’d be guilt ridden and all frantic by the time we got home, but I’m surprisingly okay with how it ended up,” he explained, his mouth in a straight line.

“I’m sorry I stole your moment,” she said through the corner of her mouth. “I just got so fucking mad,”

“You needed that,” he told her, leaning to kiss her shoulder. “More than I did,”

She turned, her cheek bumping his forehead. His chin lifted to kiss her cheek.

“I’m still sorry,”

“Don’t be. Neither of us should be,” he declared with a loose nod, his ears twitching when she looked at him. “I just want us to get on with our lives,”

She grinned. “It feels like years since this shit started,”

He chuckled. “Tell me about it,”

His fingers plucked at the hem of his pullover he still wore, her jean shorts barely peaking from underneath. “If you keep wearing stuff like this around other Orcs I don’t know if I can fight bigger ones off,”

She giggled, a wide smile stretching across her face. “I know someone who could take care of that problem,” she lured, looking up at him past thick lashes. “But he’s being kind of a prude,”

His hairless brows pulled together, his lip pouting. “Did you forget that big ass Fogteeth came to the door?”

She giggled again, leaning to kiss him. His big hand came to hold her jaw, his eyes fluttering shut as he kissed her sweetly, the rampaging hunger from earlier starting to show it’s face again.

“Is this inappropriate?” he asked innocently, turning to crawl after her when she slid back towards the center of the bed.

“Extremely,” she kissed against him, pushing his jacket down his shoulders as he flung his arms to get it off. Next was his shirt that was yanked off by her and tossed aside and a chaste kiss before he pushed the oversized sweater off, leaving her in nothing but shorts.

He laid over her, bare stomach to bare stomach, her thin, toned arms around his neck and moving smoothly as he revered in her kisses.

When he took hold of the hair on the back of her head and yanked back to gain access to her neck, she gasped, but smiled, her skin erupting with pleasant shivers.

He sucked harshly at her pulse, a low purr resounding in his short breaths over her skin.

He released her when he moved lower, wet smooches down between her breasts and around her ribs, gently moving over the bruises littering her body. He pulled the shorts down quicker than she could lift her ass and she whimpered when he shoved his hands under her knees, pushing them to her chest so he could run his tongue flat up her wet cunt.

Long, drawn breaths were all she could muster at first, but moaned and held his forearms when he sucked her clit gently, pinning her legs forcefully when she wiggled beneath him.

“Nick-” she gasped, breathlessly, her hands falling against the sheets and gripping.

He finally released her legs and they fell over his shoulders, her hips rocking smoothly beneath his lovely assault. He touched her stomach and thighs, up along her ribs and over her round breasts.

“Nick,” she called to him, but he didn’t leave. She huffed. “Nick get up,”

A low growl came from him and moved over her as she arched high.

Her mind cleared enough to reach down and tug on his ears, eliciting a sharp hiss from him. He was above her in a flash, pinning her hands down beside her while he loomed over her.

“You’re being gentle,” she breathed.

“I’m not,”

“You are, stop it,” she ordered, and his eyes darkened.

She wants it, so do it. Fuck her.

Callie was flipped suddenly and he pulled up on her hips with her chest still against the bed. Thrill flushed her body, and she reared back, her bare ass pressing against his busy hands as he rushed to undo his jeans and push them down.

His rigid dick slapped down against her cheek, and he took the moment to gaze down at his size compared to her, and the way she moved her knees farther apart.

A shaking breath left his lungs.

Fill her up.

Callie moaned harshly when he shoved his way in, pressing tight against her cervix. She bowed when he pulled out and slammed in again, jolts of bliss shooting to every end of her body.

He groused loudly above her, pushing her cheeks up and apart to watch where he stretched her. His eyes heavied with every long thrust into her wet, tight core, an impatience growing in his stomach.

He grabbed hold of her arms below her shoulders and pulled back, leaving her hung in his grasp as he rapid fired into her.

Callie yelled and cried and smiled, her hair in her face and bouncing as he fucked her with abandon, grunting himself with every hard impact.

She exhaled his name and suddenly her arms were free and his hand was around her neck, pulling her up against his chest. He angled her jaw as he breathed heavily against her there, slowing to long strokes, his other hand canvasing her smooth form.

“I can feel you so deep,” she moaned, reaching up for him. “You’re in my stomach,”

He groaned, his hand resting over her lower belly, imagining touching her where no one else could or would. His grip tightened around her neck and she whimpered, her hands flying to his arm when he rammed into her again.

“You’re gonna stick another baby in me,” she gasped, and he whined, his grip again tightening.

Do it- fucking do it. Make her yours.

Callie was loosening in his hold and he pushed her forward, falling on his fists over her. The lack of oxygen made her hypersensitive, despite her vision doubling, she turned her head from the mattress, ready to sit up.

“Get on top,” he demanded, flopping down next to her and scooting back so he rested against the headboard. She was sluggish, but crawled over him, using his hands to stabilize herself. With a strong shudder, she slid back down him, meeting his darkened eyes.

“Ride it,” he said through clenched teeth, earning a languid nod from her. With hands against the headboard, she rode him leisurely, rocking and sliding, up and down, her neck craning back as he massaged along her body. He moaned and chuffed loudly watching his glazed dick become part of her, sitting forward to hold her tight against his chest.

Callie snapped her hips fervently, finding the position where he rubbed deliciously inside of her.

She cried out, doing it again and again, falling into a steady rhythm that made her eyes roll back.

Nick ravished her breasts, pulling her nipples between his teeth and licking her exposed flesh.

He stared down at the smooth, honey skin along the underside of her breast and he kissed there, listening to her climb higher towards her release.

He touched everywhere, admiring her perfect skin.

Her unmarked skin.

Nick kissed her chest, a hand sliding up to hold her hair again. She cried out, riding him harder.

“You’re mine,” he growled.

“I’m yours, baby,” she sighed, her hands falling to his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. “I’m so fucking yours,”

“This pussy,” he slurred, glancing down at her sex. “Everything- say it again,”

“I’m yours, I’m yours,” she sobbed, sweat lining her body. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” she whimpered.

Callie shrieked when he bit down, his teeth breaking through the skin of her under boob and his arms wrapping around hers when she tried to move him.

Her blood could’ve been the elixir of the gods; his mind muddled and he lapped at her for a moment, taking in the exquisite flavor.

“Nick!” she yelled, finally getting him to let go.

He looked up at her and she didn’t recognize who she saw. Blood coated his mouth and lips and she could feel it dripping down her body, her breast starting to sting insanely.

There’s always blood.

He shoved her back, licking his lips and following her sprawled body, kissing roughly up her chest, leaving bloody marks up her neck and jaw. He settled between her thighs, and Callie moaned angrily when he found his way in, fucking her like an animal.

“Nick-” she ground out, dragging her nails heatedly down his back, evoking a loud snarl from him.

He held the sides of her neck as he fucked her, her feet hooked against his lower back as her climax came barreling towards her.

“Cum in me,” she gasped, holding his bloody face. “Put another baby in me, amore,” she moaned, her eyes pinching shut.

Nick watched her unfold beneath him, her hands flying to grip his rutting hips. She screamed and arched and became lifeless under him, her hold on reality fading as he dragged her orgasm out as long as possible.

When she was spent and barely able to hang onto his shoulders, he sat upright to bring her hips up.

Watching her breasts shake and his defined mark bleed while she looked up at him with hazy eyes brought him to his release, deep inside her pussy, exploding against her womb. He’d surely leave a bruise on her hips and his load seeped from her when he finished, pulling from her slowly to watch where-

Nick stammered, looking at her barely conscious face.

“Cal,”

“Huh?” she cracked, still working on evening her breath.

“You’re bleeding,” he said tensely, sitting back on his heels when she opened her eyes and forced herself up on her elbows, looking down at the blood covering both of them.

“Oh fuck,” she sighed, flopping back down. “You knocked something loose,”

“I DID?”

She giggled, shaking her head and hissing when her arms moved around her chest but aggravated the bite. “It’s my period, mensito,”

The haze was clearing in his head and the actions he’d made were weighing on him. He overlooked her brutalized body and guilt started to swarm him. The red marks from his murderous grip on her neck and hips, the blood, the way she ragdolled as she rolled over and tried to stand.

“Oh my god,” she blurted, rushing with shaking knees to the bathroom when juices started running down her legs.

“I’m sorry,” he muffled into his hands, completely and utterly ashamed.

He hesitated when she grunted, her eyes pinched shut and arms crossed behind her head as he carefully taped the gauze around the raw, red bite, trying to avoid taping her nipple.

“Doing okay?” he asked, his finger following the medical tape to make sure it was snug on her skin. She nodded, cracking an eye open to look at his work.

He moved so she could look in the mirror, turning this way and that to observe the makeshift band aid.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, almost too ashamed to look at her.

“I told you to stop being gentle,” she shrugged, pulling a camisole down her body carefully. “I’m sorry I started on you,”

“About that,” he started, leaning against the sink. “Can’t you get… pregnant? Doing it that close?”

She nodded, her lips quirking to the side. “I doubt it’ll happen though,”

His brows raised. “Did you not see the load I left in you?”

She snickered, stepped forward to wrap her arms around his lean waist. “Tryin’ to stick another one in me?” she asked close to his jaw when he leaned closer, and he groaned, pressing his face against her neck.

“Don’t start,” he whined, holding her firmly against him.

“Did you lose your mind when I said that?” she smiled, and he nodded, his blood pumping. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

He nodded again and sighed, reaching between them to move his hardening dick up.

“How long are you in heat for?”

“If you keep egging me on the way you do, it’ll never end,”

“Oo lucky me,” she simpered, finally getting him to look at her. But he paused, holding her face in his big hands, his thumbs stroking under her eyes. In a couple weeks time, the bruises would be gone, and there would be nothing left of their attacker except nightmares that would surely last. Everything awful that could’ve torn them apart only brought them back together again and Nick found himself overwhelmed and awestruck.

“Why’d you stick around? After everything?” he asked, his voice wavering. ��Anyone else would’ve left,”

“What kind of question is that?” she asked, holding his wrists.

“I’m serious,”

Callie held his face now, leaning on her tiptoes. “Cause I’ve never cared what anyone has thought of us. I don’t care what anyone says or tries. As soon as I saw you, I knew I couldn’t let you get away, Nick. If there was anything ever besides you, it would be a lonely life. I don’t want a future without you.”

His exhale was trembly, so he hid his inevitable emotional outburst in an embrace, burying his face against her neck as she secured herself tightly around him.

It was true- there was no future without Callie, not even if he found something remotely close to this with anyone else. He knew it in his bones, confidently and entirely. He would love her until his time was up and beyond.

“You still have to meet my parents.” he mumbled, and she giggled, patting his back.

THEY GOT THE BASTARD AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH

Only one chapter left before there's a break between part 1 and 2!! Thank you EVERYONE so far for sticking along, and I'll see you for the final chapter soon!! ;)

[backtomylakearearootsstory]

S1E19

The following morning unlike Malachi who was well rested, Aundrea struggled as usually to get out of bed. QJ on the other hand, woke up with bad stomach cramps. The cramps were so strong that he turned down the bacon and eggs that everybody else was eating. He attempted to take his vitamin with a cup of orange juice however after a quick burp, he rushed to the bathroom where he purged everything that he had eaten the night before. 

“Junior, you alright?” Quincy asked as he approached the bathroom door. The door was locked and he was unable to walk in. When QJ opened the door, Deja decided to take his temperature. 

“You’re a little warm”

It was decided that he’d stay home for today and depending on how he felt, he may have to stay home the following day. After breakfast, Deja dropped the kids off to school while Quincy suggested QJ take some Robitussin. 

“Yuck!” QJ exclaimed.

“Okay then, I’ll go to the grocery store. I’ll be right back. You need to go lay down for a bit. I’m gonna get get some sprite, crackers, and some soup.”

While Quincy was tending to his ill son, Anita was tending to some business at work regarding a case involving a pharmaceutical company’s new drug.  She had just had a moderately successful case where her client won primary custody of his children and the mother ordered to take anger management classes. In this case however, this is affecting children primarily in the lower income Black and Latino communities. 

“I need you to read over this case, I’ve already got an acting lawyer on it, however I need you to prepare the documentation for it” her boss requested.

“Sure sir.”

“Thank you. I’ll be back around 11:00 am”

This is someone who graduated Magna Cum Laude with a bachelor’s in Marketing. She was in the top 10% of her graduating class in Law school. She’s always been a great debater and was prepared for in the even that she had to resume the position of being the firm representative. 

After nodding in agreement, she took the time to contact her old classmate from law school Latrice.

Latrice recently started her own practice and tends to keep up with the trends going on in lower income communities due to growing up in south central and seeing first hand the neglect at hospitals in those communities.

An hour later she took her lunch break. As she rode the elevator with her colleague Carmen, she decided she wanted to talk as little as possible about the case. She decided to text Yvonne who was in between flashbacks to her sons high school graduation and research of her own.

“You can just ride with me” Carmen said

“Thank you”

After Anita and Carmen arrive to the restaurant, Carmen asked “Do you know anyone affected personally by this?”

“No, I didn’t grow up in a low income area and my people are from south Louisiana, swamp land.” She continued, “That said, I’m not unfamiliar with that shit that they try to plague black and brown communities with.”

Looking at the menu, Anita ordered a Caesar salad and a mango tea while Carmen ordered a house salad with no cheese with a water.

“Can I add grilled chicken?”, Anita asked noticing the option to upgrade for $2.00 more.

“Sure I’ll go get that right in”

“So how’s the real estate thing going? Or did you put that on hold?”

“I start my classes in two weeks.”

Like her sisters, she’s got a mind to make money. As a little girl she had always had a thing for Numbers and was drawn to the business side of interactions. Furthermore it was a good idea to have something to fall back on.

“I’d eventually like to branch out into handling real estate cases as a lawyer. I’m gonna be a black girl who rocks! My sisters and I are black WOMEN who rock!”

After that statement she begin looking at the alcoholic beverage menu on the table. She’s actually consider the drink had she not had to go right back to work.

“Our boss would never know”

“Too risky”

Anita enjoyed a sporadic alcoholic beverage but being the sole black person at the firm she decided she was not going to put her job at risk for the sake of satisfying her taste buds. As their food arrived they took a moment to appreciate that the firm the worked at closed for lunch. Anita Caesar salad came with a vinaigrette type of Caesar dressing and romaine, croutons, and Asiago cheese.

After eating and collecting their checks Anita made a quick run to he restroom before they headed out. Barely beating their boss back to work they arrived 5 minutes after 1:00 pm.

The rest of the day was rather mild other than the occasional brief readings. Anita spent the rest of her evening researching the company and reviewing their history. Apparently this isn’t this companies first run in with a lawsuit of this nature. A similar incident happened back in South Carolina with multiple residents coming up dead. This was settled out of court when the company paid a total of 35.9 million to a total of 15 families.

That evening she managed to work in a short run and a shower before putting on a curlean blue top and a pair a blue jeans. She met Latrice 15 minutes earlier than what was expected.

After a hug, they managed to get a table when Anita jumped right to the chase.

“So what do you know?”

“Well I know that the drug is referred to by residents as the "trance drug". This drug is altering our kids minds. Another one, but it's got 'em beamed out of their skulls. It's like Xanax times 5. They've been doing this shit for years. They put steroids in groceries in these urban communities, the medical professionals and I use that term loosely are half-assed.”

Latrice referred to this drug as the damnation drug. 

"It's making women sterile. Kids are foaming at the mouth. I've heard that one of the plaintiffs in this lawsuit has a child in ICU. The plaintiffs are asking the firm that you are at to represent them. This drug, from what I've heard is a combination of an emetic and some sort of psychedelic." 

"My brother-in-law is a pharmacist. He'd probably be able to tell me exactly what's in it.”

“It's some bullshit that they've come up with in a lab”

“Isn’t it all?”

They looked at the menu for a moment when Anita said "Girl, I ate a salad for lunch, I'm ordering a steak!"

"Well I am going to get this chicken and shrimp pasta"

“What would you like to drink?“ the waitress asked 

“Sprite”

“Strawberry Lemonade“

They periodically talked during their meals when Latrice revealed that she was engaged.

It wasn’t that Anita was afraid of commitment, she just wanted a beau who was on her level or higher.

Well I’m gonna get a to-go box, I’ll probably eat the rest of this steak for lunch tomorrow.

Later on Yvonne received a phone call from Abram.

She then had a flashback to his 13th birthday. She took him out to eat at an Italian restaurant where he created his own pizza along with a piece of white chocolate cake for dessert. The cake had a raspberry glaze that was homemade. He loved Italian as well as Mexican and it was usually one of these two choices that he requested on his birthday. 13 was a milestone as he hosted his first dance party that weekend. His birthday generally falls in during a weekday. At 18, he’s not so much of a partier, but likes a social setting. 

After sitting for a minute to ponder on one milestone, she had  a flashback to his high school graduation. She thought about him in his cap and gown, remembering his name called as he picked up his diploma. They had been close all his life. Sending him off was rather bittersweet, though she wasn’t far.

“I just pray he doesn’t back down last minute” she said before shutting her light off and going to bed.

TO BE CONTIUNED WITH EPISODE 20.

[setepenre-set]

stay (don’t stray)

Megamind/Roxanne

T rating, pre-movie AU

Coming home is a gradual thing.

AO3 | FFN

Roxanne begins by leaving the balcony door open.

It’s a warm spring, and there’s fresh air in the apartment every day, and, one day when she walks downstairs, there’s Megamind, standing in the middle of her living room, with an unnecessary set of lock picks in his hand, looking faintly bewildered.

The rest of the kidnapping proceeds as usual.

Roxanne keeps leaving the balcony door open.

The open door seems to make him nervous. He’s broken in and kidnapped her in every room of her apartment, save the bathroom and her bedroom, but when she starts leaving the door open, he doesn’t seem to want to come any further inside than he has to. He’s hesitant, even, to come and get her when she’s in the kitchen; it takes him a noticeable moment of indecision before he does it, every time.

Roxanne starts spending more time in the living room.

She’s eating dinner on the couch one night when she looks up and sees him. He’s a few paces away, can of knockout spray upraised. His mouth opens, but before he can voice whichever evil laugh or ineffective threat he intends to make, Roxanne smiles at him.

He freezes.

“Hey,” she says, voice calm, “are we in a hurry, or is it okay if I finish eating, first?”

Megamind stares at her, eyes too large.

“—is—I—what?” he manages to say.

“Is the evil plot time-sensitive?” Roxanne asks. She lifts up her bowl of soup, showing it to him. “I’m kind of hungry, but it can wait, if we’re really in a hurry.”

Again, a long moment in which Megamind stares at her.

“N-no,” he says, sounding utterly lost, “it’s not—it’s not time-sensitive…”

“Thanks,” Roxanne says, and goes back to eating her soup.

Megamind stands in the same place, shoulders up and drawn inwards, as if he’s wary of some kind of attack.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Roxanne asks, keeping her tone perfectly ordinary and conversational. “It’s silly for you to have to stand while you wait.”

She pats the couch next to her invitingly, and Megamind’s eyes narrow in extreme suspicion.

Roxanne shrugs.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she says, and takes another bite of soup.

She takes three more bites before Megamind stalks, with a kind of stiff grace, like an offended cat, to the sofa, and sits on the extreme far edge of it, well out of her reach.

“I,” he declares, “am a supervillain! I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to, Miss Ritchi!”

Roxanne bites her lip against a smile and he glares at her, arms crossed defensively over his chest, his spine very straight.

“Of course,” she murmurs, reaching for her glass of iced tea and taking a sip. “Do you want something to eat, too? I feel guilty eating in front of you like this.”

Megamind tilts his head, expression of suspicion deepening.

“—are you trying to poison me?” he asks.

Roxanne rolls her eyes, puts down her glass, and stands up.

“Here,” she says, handing her bowl to Megamind.

He takes it automatically, then makes a face like he’s bit into a lemon, clearly annoyed with himself.

“You can have that one,” Roxanne says, before he can say anything, “if you’re really that worried about poison.”

She moves around the couch towards the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” Megamind asks, voice rising. “I don’t understand what you’re doing!”

“I’m getting another bowl for me,” she says, perfectly calm. “You can have that glass of tea, too.”

When she brings her new bowl and glass back to the couch, Megamind is on his feet once more, the knockout spray in one hand again, de-gun in the other, now.

“Are you playing for time; is that what you’re doing?” he asks, words rapped out fast and angry, “Is he coming over? Are you waiting for someone to show up?”

Roxanne sighs and sets the bowl and glass down on the coffee table.

“No,” she says. “We can go now, if you’re really bothered, Megamind.”

Megamind growls under his breath.

“You’re bluffing,” he says.

“I’m not,” Roxanne says, and walks to him. “It’s okay,” she says, when he doesn’t move to spray her. “We can go, now, Megamind.”

He growls again, angrier and more inhuman this time.

“Stop. That.” he says.

“Stop what?” Roxanne asks.

He sprays her.

“She kept being nice at me, Minion!” Megamind gestures wildly. “She was—was—she was menacing me with kindness!”

Minion continues to fold the laundry.

“It doesn’t sound menacing to me, Sir,” he says. “Miss Ritchi has always been polite to me when I come get her.”

“Of course she’s polite to you! She likes you! What are you not getting about this?!”

Minion makes a wordless noise that manages to be sympathetic, soothing, and skeptical all at once.

“You’re trying to intimidate me,” Megamind says, three days later, glaring down at Roxanne as she eats a doughnut in her bathrobe. “I’m not intimidated!”

“You,” Roxanne says, gesturing with the half-eaten doughnut, “have an unnecessarily suspicious mind, you know that?”

He sits down suddenly on the far end of the couch.

“I’m not intimidated!” he repeats defiantly.

“Okay,” Roxanne says, and pushes the box of doughnuts over towards him. “You want a doughnut?”

“No!”

Roxanne laughs and licks powdered sugar from her fingers.

“Right,” she says. “Well, you can have this coffee, at least. I’ll go get another cup.”

She sets the cup down in front of him and goes back to the kitchen. When she returns, the first cup is still on the coffee table in front of him. Megamind is glaring down at it as if it has personally insulted him in some way.

Roxanne sits down again and he looks up at her.

“I don’t want it!” he says defensively.

“All right,” Roxanne says, shrugging.

Megamind gives her a look that clearly indicates he’d like to smother her to death with a decorative throw pillow. He picks up the cup.

“I’m not intimidated,” he mutters, and takes a sip of coffee.

Which he immediately and violently spits back out into the cup.

Roxanne, in the middle of taking a sip from her own cup, nearly chokes on coffee and shocked laughter.

“That is disgusting!” Megamind says, as she coughs.

His ears and cheekbones are absolutely burning pink as he sets the cup down sharply and shoves it away.

“S-sorry?” Roxanne says, trying not to laugh, and not really succeeding, “I mean—it’s just coffee; what’s wrong with it?”

“There isn’t any cream! There isn’t even any sugar! You cannot possibly drink coffee like that!”

“—I mean, sometimes I do,” Roxanne says. “If I’m already eating something sweet—”

“Stop it!” Megamind jerks to his feet as if some kind of line that’s been holding him in place has snapped. “Stop; just stop!”

“…stop drinking my coffee black?”

“Stop talking to me like—stop being—”

He takes a sharp breath through his nose, lets it out slowly, his teeth gritted.

Roxanne takes a bite of her second doughnut and waits for him to say something.

He doesn’t, though, just continues to glare at her. Roxanne finishes the doughnut.

“Okay,” she says, standing up from the couch, “I just have to get dressed, and then I’ll be ready to go.”

Megamind makes a discordant noise of frustration in the back of his throat.

Roxanne pats him on the arm as she passes and he actually flinches back from her as if she’s struck him, his breath hissing through his teeth.  

Back in his cell later that night, Megamind paces restlessly, rubbing his arm where she touched him.

There had been powdered sugar on her fingers; some of it had ended up on his shirt.

He hadn’t been able to make himself brush the marks of her fingers from his arm, and had been forced to pretend, throughout the entire kidnapping, that he hadn’t noticed them there.

The next time Megamind shows up at her apartment at breakfast time, Roxanne has made sure the coffee pot is already on the table, along with sugar, creamer, and an extra cup.

He watches warily as she adds sugar and cream to her cup, as she takes a sip, as she places the cup down on the coffee table within his reach. She pours herself another cup, drinks, takes a bite of toast.

Megamind snatches his cup up quickly, as if he’s afraid she’s going to slap his hand away, and then he cradles it in both hands, close to his chest.

Suspicious green eyes watch her over the rim of it as she takes another bite of toast.

For several minutes he just holds the cup as she continues to eat, and then finally, with quick, tense movements, he adds more cream and sugar to it.

Roxanne raises her eyebrows as the sixth spoonful of sugar goes into the cup.

“What?” Megamind snaps defensively, seeing her expression.

“You like your coffee really sweet, huh?” Roxanne says.

He glares at her like he suspects some kind of hidden mockery in the words.

“Just coffee?” Roxanne asks. “Or do you like sweet stuff in general?”

“Why?” Megamind asks, eyes narrow.

“I was just curious,” Roxanne says gently.

He gives her that flat glare again, and Roxanne assumes he’s not going to answer.

“Yes,” he says.

Roxanne blinks in surprise.

“Yes, I like sweet things,” he says, still sounding as if he suspects a trick.

Roxanne makes a humming noise of interest.

“Do you?” Megamind says, asking the question like he’s throwing down a gauntlet, like he’s not expecting her to answer.

“Oh! Yeah, but not as much as you,” Roxanne says, unable to keep from smiling at him, “if your tastes in coffee are anything to go by. I like raspberry.”

“Are you trying to delay things so that we don’t get to the evil plot?” Megamind asks, watching Roxanne narrowly as he tears a dinner roll into tiny pieces.

She blinks at him, an expression of what appears to be honest surprise on her face.

“No,” she says.

“It’s taken me fifteen additional minutes each time to kidnap you on average, over the last month,” Megamind says, not looking away from her face, watching for any shift in her expression that will tell him she’s lying. “And the time spent at your apartment pre-kidnapping shows a gradual increase over the month, when charted out.”

She blinks again.

“I mean, you can just come by earlier,” she says, “if you’re worried we’re cutting in too much on the evil plots.”

Megamind doesn’t say anything to that, but his suspicions are instantly aroused. A trap? Ready to spring when he arrives early at the next kidnapping?

He shows up to her apartment hours early, the next time, while she’s still at work, and after a brainbot patrol has reported Metro Man is at his own home.

Megamind will already be here in Roxanne's apartment, lying in wait, when they come to set their trap; they won’t catch him off guard!

Nobody shows up until Miss Ritchi comes into the apartment after work.

She shuts her apartment door, and her keys jangle as she puts them back in her purse. She turns.

“Oh, hey,” she says, looking surprised. “You’re ho—here.”

Her face flushes as she stumble on the last word—chagrin at the realization that he’s seen through her plan? He stands up with a menacing flourish.

“Your attempt at entrapment has failed, Miss Ritchi! As you can see, I am already here!”

Her lips quiver and she throws him a glance that, if he didn’t know better, he might read as amused affection. She tosses her purse down on the kitchen counter.

“Mm,” she says, making a sound not unlike the one Minion makes when he’s trying to be soothing but express skepticism all the same. “‘Kay. You want anything special for dinner, sweet—ah—I—I was—thinking chinese. Um—sweet—sweet and sour chicken sounds good…”

Megamind chews his lip as he watches her take off her shoes.

She seems—slightly flustered, but not nearly as distressed at his foiling her scheme to trap him as he would have expected. Maybe that’s not the actual scheme. Maybe it’s something else; maybe the implication of a trap set early was a clever ruse—

“Only if we can order from the place with the good fortune cookies,” he says. “And I make the phone call! I won’t have you sneakily phoning for Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes!”

“The menu’s in the drawer,” Roxanne says.

“He’s never here.”

Roxanne looks over at him, a puzzled line between her brows.

“Who?” she asks.

Megamind grits his teeth.

Roxanne starts leaving food out on the counter.

It’s sweet things, always—cookies, doughnuts, danishes.

Megamind suspects poison again, but Roxanne eats the things herself, in front of him. Maybe she has the location of the poisoned treats versus the non-poisoned ones on the plate memorized? He could switch them around to test that theory, but he’s not going to risk her having dosed them with something that could prove dangerous to her.

He takes one home, instead, a chocolate chip cookie, and subjects it to the most rigorous scientific testing possible.

It’s just a cookie.

“You’re not dating him.”

“Wh—oh,” Roxanne says, taking a bite of pizza. “No, I’m not.”

“You broke up with him.”

Roxanne gives a little snort of laughter that has no right to be as endearing as he finds it. He bites the inside of his cheek.

“No,” she says.

“He broke up with you?” Megamind bursts out, unable to keep the incredulous edge from his voice.

She gives another snort of laughter.

“No,” she says again.

She has sugar cookies out, the next time he goes to kidnap her, and since he’s feeling reckless and frustrated, he eats one.

Roxanne absolutely beams at him when he does, which makes him assume it really is poisoned, but he doesn’t have any sort of strange reaction at all, and none of this makes any sense whatsoever.

She was never dating Metro Man?

Never?

The entire world has ceased to make sense.

Unless she’s lying.

No, she’s not lying; Metro Man really isn’t ever there, and he would never have the attention span for any sort of long term plan like the one Roxanne’s playing out, here, anyway.

Whatever plan it is she’s playing out, here.

It’s summer, by now, the air turning hot and sticky, and the first night Megamind lands on her balcony and finds the door closed, his stomach drops in a horrible and utterly inexplicable way.

It isn’t—she was only doing it to—to unsettle him; he should be relieved she’s given up on—

He sees the sign taped to the doorframe.

It’s unlocked, Megamind.

—R

He stands there looking at it for a long time before finally opening the door and slipping inside.

If her plan is to unsettle him, it is definitely working, Megamind is forced to admit.

The more time he spends with her, in her apartment, the more unsettled he feels. He should just stop going there at all, he knows that, knows he should stick to picking her up from her office or the street, should stick to sending Minion to her apartment, but he can’t, god, he can’t.

“Why are you doing this?” Megamind asks, voice high and distressed.

Roxanne’s lips twist.

“If I’d known being nice to you was all it took to get you this riled up,” she says, putting down her fork, “I would have done it a lot sooner.”

“You admit, then,” he says, voice wavering, and he should be glad that he’s finally tricked her into confirming his suspicions, but he feels, instead, as if he’s going to fly into a million sharp edged pieces at any moment, “you admit that you’re doing it to upset me—”

“No,” Roxanne says.

She reaches out and wraps her fingers around his wrist and squeezes. Megamind stops breathing, goes utterly still beneath her hand.

“No,” she says, “I would have been, before, but I’m not, now.”

Megamind makes a low, unhappy noise of confusion and frustration and she lets go of his wrist.

“I’m not—” she says, voice soft, and for a moment she looks almost sad, “—I’m not very good at this being nice thing, am I?”

Megamind has no idea how to answer that. Roxanne sighs and pats his arm (again he goes startle-still) and then she gathers up the dishes and takes them to the sink.

He can’t stay away from her.

He never could stay away from her, and now it’s so much worse, the torment only increasing every time she lets him just a little bit closer.

She lets him sit on the couch with her and finish the movie she’s watching.

She props her feet up in his lap.

She lets him ask what book it is she’s reading.

She flips to the beginning of the book and reads the first chapter out loud to him, reads all the rest of the chapters out loud to him, a new chapter each kidnapping like she’s playing at being Scheherazade, and every time he has to stand up and spray her and go through with the evil plot, it just gets harder to do.

Pretending that’s all he wants.

Pretending he’s ever really wanted that.

Pretending he doesn’t want—

And yet he has to keep coming up with evil plot after evil plot, because how else is he supposed to keep seeing her? What other excuse could he have for coming to her?

There isn’t one. There isn’t any excuse for his presence.

There isn’t any excuse for him.

“These are for you,” Megamind says abruptly, and sets the box of chocolates on Roxanne’s coffee table.

Roxanne’s lips part, her eyes going wide, color flying to her cheeks, and Megamind thinks wildly that he would very much like to throw himself headfirst from the balcony right now.

“They’re raspberry,” he says in despair as she lifts the lid.

She reaches for one of the chocolates, her lips forming an O of anticipatory pleasure—they’re extremely good quality chocolates, the best he could find, and—

“The third one has sleeping serum in it,” Megamind blurts out, like the utter, hopeless, pathetic idiot he is.

Roxanne pauses with her hand hovering over the chocolates. She looks up at him.

And she—

—smiles.

“I guess I’ll have to eat that one last, then,” she says, and picks up a chocolate.

She bites into it without any hesitation, as if Megamind hasn’t already admitted to drugging one of the chocolates, as if he’s—

She picks up a second chocolate and offers it to him wordlessly. Megamind swallows and shakes his head as he sits down on the edge of the couch. Roxanne makes a noise that clearly indicates she would actually rather have the entire box to herself anyway.

And—god—Megamind would much, much rather watch her enjoying them.

Roxanne is—she’s so—

The little humming noises of satisfaction she makes, and the way she licks her fingers, and the small smear of chocolate on her bottom lip, and—

(later, lying alone in bed with his stomach twisting with guilt and his hand between his legs, Megamind will bite his lip against a moan and come apart to the memory of her like this)

Finally, the box is empty, except for the third chocolate, the one he dosed and then warned her about.

She reaches for it.

“You don’t have to.”

Roxanne looks up at him, her hand poised over the box.

Her surprised eyes meet his and Megamind jerks to his feet, almost stumbling in his sudden haste to not be here, to not be doing this, to not be—

“You don’t have to,” he says again, “you don’t—have to—I’ll—I’ll go; I can go; I’ll just go—”

“You don’t have to,” Roxanne says, her eyes wide and her hand hovering, and Megamind makes a choked, panicked, alien noise in the back of his throat and flees.

He throws himself viciously into the construction of the next doomsday device, and the next, and the next.

Megamind manages to send Minion for her the next three kidnappings in a row, and he doesn’t go to her apartment when she’s there, and he doesn’t go to her apartment when she’s not there, and he doesn’t sleep.

This last fact is not an important one, no matter what Minion might say, or the brainbots might hint.

Wanting to be with her is actually physically painful, the way that starvation is painful, that same kind of screaming, desperate emptiness, a hunger in his skin and his chest and his bones and his mind.

It’s autumn now, the air cool and crisp. The balcony door is open. Megamind slips inside.

He’s just going to stay for a moment, just a moment; he’ll be long gone by the time she gets home from work; she’ll never even know he was here. He’s just—

He’s crying, suddenly, too tired to stop himself, too tired to do it quietly. Too tired to do anything but collapse on Roxanne’s couch and curl up into a ball and cry and cry and cry.

Misery and exhaustion bleed together in his mind.

He’s still crying when he falls asleep.

Her apartment is dark when Roxanne finally makes it home. She switches on the light and locks the door behind herself. As she’s putting her purse down on the counter, she hears a soft noise from the living room.

She glances over and sees—Megamind, sitting up from where he’s been lying on her couch. He looks around, blinking, his eyes unfocused and his expression faintly bewildered.

Sleeping, Roxanne realizes, he was sleeping on her couch.

“Hey,” she says softly, moving towards him.

He looks up at her, the back of the couch between them, and Roxanne reaches out without thinking and touches his head, strokes her palm over the curve of it.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, sweetheart,” she says.

And.

And there’s a—a frozen kind of moment in which Roxanne realizes what she’s said and what she’s doing and she sees Megamind realize what she’s said and what she’s doing and then—

She sees something break in his eyes, and then he turns his head and presses his lips to her palm.

“—oh,” Roxanne says, a breathless, almost silent sound.

“Why,” he says, his voice cracking in the middle, “why would you call me—why are you being—Roxanne—I can’t—please—please stop—it hurts too—”

“I’m sorry,” Roxanne says, catching the other side of his face with her other hand. “I’m sorry, sweetheart; I’m sorry; I never wanted to hurt you, Megamind; I’m so sorry—”

He looks at her again, green eyes wide and tearful, and Roxanne presses a kiss to his forehead—then to his cheekbone, his temple, his jaw—

Megamind makes a soft, broken noise and turns his head, catching her mouth with his.

Roxanne gasps in surprise and he starts to pull back, but she dips her head and kisses him again and he melts into her.

He almost sobs into her mouth when she rubs her thumbs over his cheekbones, and when she hums soothingly against his lips, he moans and reaches up to grab her shoulders, arching up into her like he’s afraid she’s going to push him away at any moment.

Roxanne slides one of her hands to the back of his head and the other to the back of his neck, holds him in place as she kisses him.

(possession and reassurance in the pressure of her hands and the pressure of her lips)

He’s trembling when she finally eases out of the kiss. She brushes her lips over his one last time and leans away to look at his face. His eyes meet hers for only a moment, and then he flinches, squeezing his eyes shut again.

“—please,” he whispers, “please don’t make me leave, Roxanne.”

Roxanne gives a soft laugh, feeling tears rise to her eyes.

“Megamind,” she says, “sweetheart—I’ve been trying this whole time to convince you to stay.”

He opens his eyes and looks at her, his lips slightly parted, his eyes wide and green and astonished. Roxanne smiles at him a little tremulously, and then bends down to kiss him again.

“Roxanne—why—why didn’t you just tell me?”

It’s several weeks later; Megamind is sitting half curled up on her couch in his pajamas, watching her over the top of his cup of ridiculously over-sweet coffee.

Roxanne gives him a questioning look as she takes a sip of coffee.

“Why didn’t you just tell me—what you were doing?” he asks. “With being nice to me. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Roxanne puts her cup of coffee down.

“I didn’t think you’d believe me,” she says. “I was afraid of scaring you off.”

Megamind frowns and Roxanne smiles at him with gentle, wry affection.

“Sweetheart,” she says, “you didn’t even believe I meant it when I smiled at you. Megamind, honestly, if I had told you that I loved you, then, would you have believed me?”

Megamind makes a face.

“—probably not,” he admits, putting down his own cup of coffee.

Roxanne laughs and shakes her head. Megamind wrinkles his nose at her and shifts to lie down with his head in her lap.

“You know I’m right,” she tells him.

He makes a complaining, not-quite-human noise but doesn’t argue. Roxanne drapes her arm over the curve of his head and closes her eyes, smiling.

“—do you?” Megamind asks.

“Hmm?” Roxanne opens her eyes and looks down at him. “Do I what?”

He curls his arm a little tighter around one of her knees.

“—do you love me?” he asks, voice soft and vulnerable.

Roxanne smiles down at him, her heart very full of happiness.

“Yes,” she says. “Yes, I do.”

Megamind makes a soft noise of contentment and settles his head more comfortably in her lap.

...the end.

notes:

Day sixteen of my Birthday Fic Month! And day five of the Megamind Valentine’s Day event. Prompt used was home is you.

The working title of this one was ‘the feral cat story’. The actual title is from the lyrics of the song Sway. 

[seokjinsonlyone-main]

in which y/n attends the after party...

a part two to in which y/n buys harry starbucks...

Y/N was not a partier. It wasn't that she was shy or didn't like them. It was just that she was introverted and partying took a lot out of her (Also, she couldn't hang like she used to. By 10pm, when most parties were kicking off, she was ready to drag herself into bed). However, when Harry Styles says he wants to see you at a party, you go to that party.

She'd been iffy after she met him at Starbucks about actually getting tickets to the show. Still, a few hours later, she found herself at Will Call, chewing nervously on her bottom lip in hopes that he was serious about what he said previously. And, he was. Relief flooded her as she was slid two tickets along with a piece of paper that held an address on it. She presumed it to be the location of the after party and slid it into her back pocket. 

Her nerves were bouncing all over the place as she stood in line to enter the venue. Her feelings were put to the side, however, as she saw a girl get turned away at the door and her friend stood staring wide eyed with her jaw dropped. She instantly was moved to action. As she neared the front of the line, she could hear the girl who's ticket was apparently fake, breathing through tears, telling her friend to go in without her, forcing a smile. "Wait!" she called out to them, not that either one of them were going anywhere. They were stood off to the side. "I just saw what happened, and I have two tickets. You could just trade me the one for these two." She held the tickets out for them, as they eyeballed them.

"These are third row tickets. Mine isn't even on the floor." 

She shrugged, nonchalantly. "I'm just happy to be here." And, she was considering three hours ago she didn't even have tickets or an invitation to an after party extended by Mr. Harry Styles himself. After meeting him today, this was the least she could do. 

"How do we know these are real?" The same girl asked, still eyeing the tickets suspiciously. 

Seeing as they were still holding up the line, Y/N scurried over to the ticket checker, so she could scan the tickets. They checked out. The two girls quickly scrambled to her side, swapped tickets, and made their way inside the venue. Once in, they hugged each other tightly, crying (what she hoped to be) tears of joy, at the sudden turn of events before they turned to her and included her in the action, letting their appreciation known through muffled sobs. "How much do you want for it?" the girl who had the fake ticket asked once she got herself together.

She shook her head, giving them a small smile. "I don't want your money."

"Seriously? I can't just let you do this. These must've cost a fortune."

She didn't want to reveal that she'd got them for little more than a cup of coffee, so she just shook her head politely once more. "Honestly. I'm fine. You two just have a good time."

"I could get you a t shirt or a hat or one of those pins or–"

She cut the girl off since she was so insistent upon repaying her in some way—which seemed to be a common theme for her today. "Water! And some popcorn, if you must."

The girls beamed at her as they made their way to the concession stand. They did not stop talking the entire time, not that she minded. They thanked her endlessly and chatted a bit about Harry, but finally parted ways with her, giving one final hug, when they noticed the time and the length of the merch line, and she went to go find her new seat.

-----

In hindsight, she was glad she wasn't sitting in the third row. After she played it relatively cool that afternoon it would've been moderately embarrassing for him to see the way she sobbed as soon as his silhouette appeared straight through Ever Since New York, only regaining slight composure once the bridge hit. But, really, she was a mess throughout the entire concert. So, not only did she do those girls a favour but also herself and possibly Harry. 

The kind, older lady sat in front of her, whom she'd made friends with, let her borrow her binoculars a few times throughout the show and it wasn't lost on her the slight look of confusion (or perhaps disappointment, but that was wishful thinking) she saw on his face when he really looked into the first couple rows of the crowd. 

Her presence, or seemingly lack there of, had absolutely no impact on his performance, though. It was arguably the best concert she'd ever been to. She felt so at home with all the Harries screaming their heads off and just going completely nuts, as per Harry's request, during the show. 

However, the same could not be said for the after party. She was a fan. She didn't have any connections or friends or any real reason to be there other than the haphazard invitation Harry extended to her earlier in the day. That thought carried her straight to the open bar, where she ordered a Long Island iced tea, then caused her to beeline for one of the outer walls. She meandered around the outside of the party watching everyone mingle, only offering a few smiles to those who passed. 

It seemed as though her presence was going to go unnoticed, not that she was doing much of a job at being approachable, as she contemplated on getting another drink, having sipped hers down over the hour she'd been at the lounge, or leaving altogether. She jumped when she felt a firm grasp on her elbow, breaking her line of thought. 

She hadn't planned on doing a lot of things that day, but it's safe to say that getting kidnapped topped that list. Her mind was eased as she turned around to see Harry gripping her, no longer donned in his Gucci suit but looking good nonetheless. She wasn't quite sure what to say to him so she just grinned at him, subtly looking between his face and her arm before he got the hint and let her go. 

He coughed lightly. "You could've told me you didn't like my music, ya know?"

She furrowed her eyebrows, not quite sure where he got that notion from. He answered the question she hadn't even gotten the chance to ask yet, almost immediately after seeing her expression. "You weren't in the crowd. I literally scanned all the front rows."

"Ohhhh. No, I went. I didn't sit there, though."

"If you had tickets, you should've just told me."

Her face contorted into something that was halfway between confusion and amusement. "Why are you assuming I lied to you earlier? I was waiting in line after picking my tickets up and I saw these two girls. One, apparently, had purchased a fake ticket and instead of holding onto those two tickets, I swapped with the one girl who had a legitimate ticket and just gave them the ones you got me."

His mouth opened and closed a few times. "Sorry I–"

"Was just wondering how to get your exceptionally large foot out of your even larger mouth?" she finished, rolling her eyes, teetering between the lines of annoyed and amused.

"That was really lovely," he settled upon as a response.

She shrugged. "Treat people with kindness, right?"

Dimples coined into his cheeks. "Absolutely. Now... can I buy you a drink?"

"It's an open bar."

He looked at her like she was crazy, eyebrows shot up with his lips twisted together. "No, it's not."

"Oh. Well, you can pay for the Long Island iced tea I already accidentally stole and just get me a glass of water."

"You sure?" he chuckled.

"Yes, sir."

He headed to the bar as she turned around bowing raspberries into the air in an attempt to calm herself down. 

All too soon, Harry was back, handing her her water, then slipping his hand into hers, leading her to a booth. Instead of sliding in across from her, he slid in directly next to her which sent her nerves in a frenzy. "Figured I’d sit over here, so I can hear you better. It's quite loud in here."

She chucked nervously, nodding in understanding, sipping on her water as he gulped down some of his drink. She couldn't hold it in anymore. She had to ask. "What am I doing here?" she blurted before he could get a word out.

He puckered his lips to the side, furrowing his eyebrows. "I'm not quite sure what you mean..."

She splayed her hands out in front of them, releasing broken groans. "Like, bro, I just– I just bought you.... coffee! Now I'm sat in a booth with you at an after party. I'm not even, like–" she waved her hands in circles wildly. 

He giggled, looking down at the table and shaking his head. "I just want to get to know you."

"But, why?" She just couldn't wrap her head around it. She wasn't anything special. She wasn't exceptionally beautiful or talented or smart. And, she knew, even past all her nerves, that Harry was just a normal guy as well, but why on earth would he spare her more than a passing glance?

"I just think you're lovely."

She glared at him. She needed more of an explanation than that. 

"The guy at Starbucks told me you didn't want him to tell me that you paid for my coffee. And, then you told me yourself that you didn't expect anything out of it.. And, you gave up your tickets for one in the back. And, I saw you when you first came in, and in the least creepy way possible, I just sort of watched you bounce around smiling, bopping around to the music, chatting with a few people. Also, you haven't even asked for a picture. Not that I mind when people ask me, but I don't know, it just, I don't know,you don't want anything. It's, uh– You're lovely."

She was stunned. Partly because of what was said and partly because of who said it. She just stared at him, not knowing how to reply. 

"Well, say something." He laughed, eyes skipping around the room. He wasn't quite prepared to look straight at her. "Christ, talking to girls is just as terrifying as always."

Her face lit up and broke into a wide grin. "You're talking to me?"

"You're the only other person in the booth, aren't you?"

She shook her head. "No, like, you're talking to me. You're chatting me up? Are you putting the moves on me, Styles? Is this what this is?"

He bumped her shoulder with his. "Piss off."

They smiled at each other and all the possibilities.. Hers faltered after a few moments. "You're on tour."

"I am," he confirmed.

She clasped her hand on top of his. "Harry, in a few days, I won't even be a passing thought. Maybe the next time you go into Starbucks I'll be that one chick that bought you something, but nothing more." 

His face dropped into a pout. "You're not even going to give me a chance?"

She quirked her lip upwards and shrugged slightly. "I couldn't ask for that kind of commitment from you."

"Baby, I just want to get to know you," he said in a voice all slow and thick and deep. 

She wasn't sure at which point they shifted that much closer together, but he was resting his forehead against hers leaving her breathless. Naturally, she sputtered out a few strings of laughter. "One thing you should know about me is that I'm uncomfortable in most social situations." 

"Duly noted," he stated, rolling his eyes because she completely ruined the mood he set, head following suit and backing up a few inches. 

"So... just friends?"

He scratched the back of his neck. "Sure."He gulped down the remainder of his drink while she sipped on her water. Neither of them were 100% satisfied with the arrangement, but someone had to be rational. She kept telling herself that she was doing the right thing. "Actually, can I kiss you?"

For the second time that night, she was rendered completely speechless. Y/N had been exercising extreme self-control up to that point. She didn't have an anxiety attack when she met him the first time. She gave up amazing seats to see him (1/4 of the biggest band in the world!). She turned him down when he came onto her. But, she couldn't find it in herself to reject the chance to feel those lips on hers.. Like she imagined meeting him, she imagined kissing him a million times, but nothing compared to the fluffy, pillowy sensation that washed over her body when she nodded meekly at his request, sliding her hands up to grasp his face. 

It wasn't like a full blown snog. It was short and sweet, but that knowledge didn't do anything to quell the butterflies that took flight in her stomach. She kept her eyes closed and hands on his face for a good five seconds after the kiss ended, simply basking in it. "Maybe we can be a little more than friends."

"Yeah?" he questioned, optimism laced in his every word, before pushing his lips back to hers for a few more seconds. 

"Yeah, but, maybe later. When you're not so busy. After tour ends, if you even remember me."

"I have a feeling you'll be one of the few people I can't forget." His face set into that signature lopsided smirk. 

"We'll just have to wait and see."

"That we will, my dear, that we will."

[myselfinserts]

‘ what do you want for breakfast? ‘

Milo Ewart-Falkvar’s daily routine began every morning athalf past four. He woke up, showered, and dressed himself in the suit of theday. He had a different one for each day, with other variants for whateveroccasion may present itself. Today was a Monday. The castle was closed to thepublic with guests coming on the ship later that afternoon around three. Sotoday, he wore the more formal looking Estmund Royal Staff Uniform. He’dalready sent out the reminders to everyone both one day and one week beforehand, so everyone should be prepared.

If not, he’ll ensure they will be.

As he adjusted the Royal Star on his cravat, he repeated hismorning mantra that he said every day since he’d started work in the castle as a young boy. Everymorning, he’d recite his name, his rank, and his quirk. It helped him adapt tochange and prepare his composure.

“My name is Milo Oskari Ewart-Falkvar. I am the Chiefof Staff, Majordomo, and Royal Advisor to His Majesty King Davis Gorlois Søren Sidero. Diplomatic Ambassador to the United Kingdom onbehalf of my country and my King, Head Chairman of the Estmund HistoricalSociety, and Administrative Director for Estmund Academy for Domestic Workers.My quirk ‘Donor’ allows me to be a 'fairy godmother’ of sorts to one charge ofmy choosing, allowing me to provide for them to the best of my ability byproviding them with gifts, tasks, and assistance whenever and wherever needarises. Gifts, however, vanish at midnight in whatever timezone I’m in.”

Once his wake up routine was completed, bed made and all, hehurried out of the room and down to the kitchens to join the morning staff forthe daily breakfast meeting, which started at half past five. There, everyonewas inspected, fed, and reminded of the morning duties. Everyone was soproficient, they did not need to worry about running behind schedule. By six onthe dot, everyone was off to work and Milo was able to head up to the king’sroom. Quietly, he went in, opened the curtains, and headed over to the bed.

“Good morning, my King,” he greeted, gently shakinghim awake. “It’s time to wake up.”

“Mhmh, don’t wanna,” Davis grumbled, burying his face into the pillow. “It’stoo early to be a people.”

Milo let out a gentle chortle. “Come now, my King. It’stime to wake up. You have to attend to morning duties, speak to Patricio this afternoon, and Monsieur Allardwill be arriving this evening for your requests.”

“Mh, I suppose I must people today then.” Slowly,Davis sat up, his long blue hair sticking out at every angle in curls andcrinkles. “What’s my morning look like, Milo?”

“To start,” he said, “what do you want forbreakfast?”

The king tilted his head in thought, his gaze distant as hetried to shake the exhaustion. “What is on today’s breakfast menu?”

“A selection of breads such as brioche, baguette, orcroisants that can be topped with your choice of butter, jams, or today’sraspberry-chocolate spread. For drinks there will be tea, coffee, chocolatemilk, and orange juice available for your choosing. And once you’ve finishedthose, you have the choice of either fromage blanc or a fruit compote.”

“Brioche, rose jam, and hot chocolate. I’ll go withfromage blanc with fruit as well, please.”

Milo nodded. “I’ll message the staff right away.”He wandered over to the closet, selecting the maroon suit with the red tie ashe sent the request to the kitchens. “Once you’re done with breakfast, youhave a meeting with the head of the Education Bureau and following that, abrief tutoring session with Madam Raylene to improve your French.”

“Right, right. Of course.” Davis let out a yawn,rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he tossed the blanket off. “And naptime is when again?”

The butler rolled his eyes, smiling affectionately as hebrought out the hairbrush. “Come now, sir, you’re well old enough to knowthat nap time isn’t until after your afternoon constitutional. Have to walkafter lunch for your health.”

This was the same song and dance they had every Monday sincethe King was a young lad. Most days he was more of a father than King Søren was, trying his best to raise the boy so that he would not growinto a cold, tactical ruler lacking in empathy and compassion. He’d watched foryears as this tiny tot grew into the Crazed Cat King of Estmund, first of hiskind. And the island had been the wealthiest and happiest it had ever been.Whenever Milo looked into the snow white eyes of the King, he couldn’t help butfeel pride.

“Alright, my King,” hesighed. “Come here and we’ll tie your hair back for the day.”

“I would like to leave itdown today,” Davis said. “I had it tied away during all ofyesterday’s activities in respect to the Estmund Church of Lady Seweryn. Iwould like to have it be free.” He blushed a little. “And also, Milo,I’ve told you before that you don’t have to keep calling me 'my King’ when it’sjust us. You’re like a father to me so…I would appreciate it if you’d call meby my name.”

Milo smiled softly. “Ofcourse, Davis. My apologies. Force of habit.” He held up the brush,nodding to the chair by the vanity. “Shall we prepare you for today?”

Davis practically beamed.“Let’s.”

[hotaroll]

All the ice cream flavors plz >83

chocolate: when was your first kiss?

with my parents when I was a young sapling :0

french vanilla: how old are you?

20 (I need my canes)

cotton candy: three places you want to travel to? (Already Answered)

strawberry: a language you wish you could speak?

speaking with marine animals would be cool 

coffee: favorite cosmetic brands?

none? xD

mint chocolate chip: indoors or outdoors?

indoors definitely, outdoors if it’s cold enough to wear winter clothes though

cookie dough: do you play any instruments?

I used to be able to play the piano, xylophone and the flute. (and I suppose any other percussive instrument). Until I graduated high school...

rocky road: favorite songs at the moment?

Best of Persona Series Soundtrack

Undertale PS4 Menu Theme

healing (ALBUM) by in love with a ghost

Shawn Wasabi - Otter Pop (ft. Hollis)

Everybody Wants to Love You by Japanese Breakfast

No. 1 by Noriyuki Makihara (槇原敬之)

butter pecan: favorite songs for life?

Viva la Vida by Coldplay

Any Cover by Sapphire (aka StrawberryCreme)

Persona 4 Secret Base (Naoto’s Dungeon Theme)

A couple of endings from one piece ;;u;; 1 2

cheesecake: what's your zodiac sign?

Aries!

toasted coconut: the beach or the pool?

I enjoy the deep end of the pool and the shallow end of the ocean :)

chocolate chip: what's your most popular post?

Hmm just checked and of course it would be the Yuri on Gay Ice fanart xD

bubblegum: books or movies?

Animated Movies! Otherwise books, but I’m down to watch anytihng if I’m not alone xP

pistachio: manga or anime?

If I haven’t read the manga yet, then anime!

salted caramel: favorite movies?

Ghibli : Castle in the Sky (pre-Disney English dub), Princess Mononoke, , The Cat Returns, Spirited Away, The Wind Rises (the japanese dub wasn’t what I was used to, but it felt authentic!)

Sci-Fi : Gravity, Interstellar, Looper

Anime : CCS: Sakura Goes to Hong Kong, CCS: The Sealed Card, Wolf Children, Summer Wars, The Garden of Words, The Girl Who Leapt Through Time, Your Name

birthday cake: favorite books?

I’ve answered this one before in a different ask game/challenge so I’ll write ones I haven’t shared before:

Alif the Unseen by G. Willow Willson

The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

moose tracks: favorites for manga?

Magi by Oshtaka Shinobu

Food Wars (Shokugeki no Soma) by Saeki Shun, Tsukuda Yuuto and Morisaki Yuki

Kekkaishi by Yellow Tanabe (aka Ierou Tanabe)

Baby Steps by Hikaru Katsuki

The Breaker + The Breaker: New Waves by Jin-Hwan Park and Geuk-Jin Jeon

Double Arts by Naoshi Komi (got cancelled early ;;w;;)

orange sherbet: favorites for anime? (Already Answered)

peanut butter: favorite academic subject?

Arts xD 

black raspberry: do you have any pets?

I have some pet goldfish and tetra fish, I don’t usually name them though

mango: when and why did you start your blog?

I don’t remember the exact date since I’ve deleted posts from my main blog since then, but I believe it was before September of 2016. Only used it to reblog animal selfies and art references lol

mocha: ideal weather conditions?

Not too windy and not too sunny, so Spring/Fall weather but without the rain and humidity :3

black cherry: four words that describe you?

smol

chunky

dittoairheaded

tired

neapolitan: things that stress you out?

(first of all what kind of flavor is this xD)

People

academics

job searching

..but I try not to let those get to me >

raspberry truffle: favorite kind of music?

I don’t have a specific genre or artist that I automatically gravitate to (except Sapphires covers oh boi her voice is great owo;;;)

chocolate marshmallow: favorite brands of candy?

I thought it said “favourite brandy candy” damnit

I LOVE KITKAT

and anything that’s similar in texture xD

.... wait you’re saying chocolate isn’t candy...? oAo;; !

toffee: a card game that you're good at?

... does Goldfish count?

lemon custard: do you eat breakfast?

Sometimes...

dark chocolate: turn ons?

dark chocolate

fudge: turn offs?

fudge

wishy-washiness (is that a word? well it is now xD)

^yo that means I turn myself off, which isn’t that far from the truth

peach: how do you relax?

How do >0>?

praline: a popular book you haven't read yet?

Hairy Pots >w>;;;

Faults in Our Stars

I really want to finish Ready Player One by Ernest Cline though, It’s been collecting dust lately

superman: do you like sweaters?

hell yea boi that’s my aesthetic

cherry: do you drink tea or coffee?

tea!

dulce de leche: an instrument you wish you could play?

the oboe or the cello

blackberry: have you ever laughed so hard you cried?

with my sister sometimes (when we make fun of watch anime together)

ginger: a new feature you wish tumblr could have?

idk I don’t use tumblr that much

blueberry lemon: favorite blogs?

they already know who they are (I’m not lazy or anything, no sir not me)

almond: favorite mean girls quote?

what’s a mean girl? like a female version of this guy?

butterscotch: what color are your nails right now?

nail colour

cinnamon: have you ever been confessed to?

(*lies on the ground contemplating*)

blue moon: have you ever had a crush on someone?

cappuccino crunch: do you take naps?

whenever I can

mint: the most embarrassing thing you've ever done?

Barf in front of my kindergarden class

brownie batter: do you like sushi?

HELL YEAH THAT’S THE SHIT BOI

key lime: where do you want to be right now?

If you know me then you already know owo

red velvet: do you wear prescription glasses?

HAH that’s also my aesthetic

green tea: favorite flavors of ice cream?

chocolate

vanilla

Black Sesame

[secretlypg95]

I have to save myself.... Cole Sprouse imagine.

A/N: So I’ve been feeling down about my situation lately and since I’ve had so many feels about my baby Cole Sprouse, I thought about how I wanted to hear his voice and make all this shit go away. this is my first every imagine, so please be gentle and I hope someone reads it and it somehow puts you at ease if you’re going through the same thing. Cole is visiting for a while, while he’s on break from filming the show.

MASTERLIST

P.S. This is about a YouTuber Precious Galvan

It was such  busy day at work, Me-N-Ed’s Victory Grill a restaurant in the city where I live (Fresno, Ca). I’ve been working there for almost a year and I still haven’t moved up into becoming a server yet, even though they promised me two months back

Now I know I can’t complain because this is the longest that I’ve held a job and I love almost everybody here and had become a real family which is what I’ve come to love about this place.

“So, how’s my little Precious on this busy night.” my boyfriend Cole surprised me.

“OMG, baby!! When did you get into town? I’ve missed you so much!” I exclaim as I jump into his arms.

“Like five minutes ago, I called here to make sure you were here or not. So I quickly hung up as you said your name.” He answers, as he tries to kiss me.

“Hey, Precious stop kissing your super hot actor and get back to work.” My manager Jose says half-serious.

“okay,” I say as Cole slowly releases me from his grip. “Just one today Sir,” I say to my beautiful boyfriend and turn to my manger smirking. “I’ll put him in VIP so there won’t be any commotion.”

“Fine,” Jose rolls his eyes. Chuckling at us before going off somewhere in the restaurant. Cole just chuckles and puts his arm around my waist. I seat him in VIP which is a small little glass room .

As I set down the menu and close the door behind him, he takes a seat and looks at me ,”Well I’ll just let Aleeya know that she’ll take your order ,K.” I say hugging his head on my chest. “I’m so glad you’re here, I’ve missed you.” I say thanking God that the curtains are closed from the previous guests.

“Me too,” is all he says before kissing me softly.

As the night goes on , I can see that the curtain in VIP has been moved so that Cole is looking at me, which makes me giggle as he does one of his stupid ass faces.

“Hey, Mike I just sat that 8 at table 44, they’re ready for you.” I say looking at my co-worker.

“Can you get started on their drinks for me, I’m barely getting to my 63 girlie, please.” he says as he walks to table 63.

“Sure, like every other table, I got you.” I say as I make my way to 44 greeting and asking for their drinks.

After I’m done handing out the drinks I let them know that Mike will be here shortly to take their order.

As I see the order for one of the big parties is out I offer my help, which Dern, one of the servers, gladly accepts. We take out their wing platters, salads, burgers, sandwiches, and finally three large pizzas.

Then I help Matty buss some tables, since we have a couple of small parties waiting to be seated. As soon as I’m done seating people with the help of my other co-host Marissa, Jose walks up to me and tells me I have to take a 30 since I will be closing tonight. I’m a little relieved because I am hungry and realize Cole is still here. I quickly clock out. (this is literally what goes down at a regular day at work as a host)

As I walk through the door to VIP, Cole is already meeting me with open arms. I set my drink down and in some weird coincidence as if it was supposed to happen , Aleeya walks in with a plate of a beautiful BBQ chicken sandwich cut in half with fries and some ranch. “Made with Love,” she says as sets it down in between us two and leaves us alone, closing the door behind her.

“Thank you so much, I love you.” I say while thrashing into my half, he just laughs at how I'm acting like a starving animal.

“No problem I know how hard you’re working today,” he says biting into his own half. “Like you do everyday.” He stares at me.

“Cole, I know you don’t like how they treat me professional-wise, hell I don’t either, but it’s my job and it’ll have to do for now.” I say right before taking a sip of my raspberry tea.

“I just don't get how they can treat you like you’re the most hard working person here, but they still wont move you to a server. And I'm not the only one who thinks you deserve the position.” he says protectively. I know that he’s right.

“look this is only temporally until I've saved enough money to move to LA, remember. And plus my YouTube channel is kinda taking off right now.” I say pleading he’ll drop the subject. But knowing Cole he wont.

“Yeah now your up to 300 subscribers, Yay.” He says sarcastically. Which he changes as he sees the hurt in my eyes. “I didn’t mean that. I just- I just don’t know why you wont let me help you out with that dream job of yours. We can move you into my place no rent needed.” he says hopefully.

“Cole Mitchell Sprouse, when have you ever known me to just take hand-me-downs. I love how protective you are of me and want to do everything in your power to save me, but you have to understand that I don’t come from a world where everything is right there. I'm starting from the bottom here and I just want to say one day I got there because I earned it, just like you did. I love you but just, just let me do this for me.” I say as I get up. “I’ll see you after I close okay. Thank you and I love you.” I say as I kiss him bye before getting back to work.

We both are now in my dark room, lying down in my bed; me tired from work, him tired from the drive from LA to Fresno. As he sits up staring at me into my eyes as I'm lying on my back staring back at him.

“You know I didn’t think of how you felt about this. I didn’t mean for you to sound like a charity case, you know that.,” he says slightly stoking my cheek, then moving his hand back to my waist.. “It’s jus I know how hard you work there, but I also know that you’d be one of the best actresses I will ever know and love. I just wish the universe felt the same way right now.” He says right before he kisses your forehead.

You sigh know exactly what he meant. “I know that. I love you for just being my cheerleader when needed. And you know I’ll always be your cheerleader when you need me to be. It’s just that my time to become everything I’ve always wanted is still a long way ahead of me then it was for you.” you say sadly smiling. He nods knowing you are right. “Oh and it wasn’t 300 subscribers, it’s 378!” I say matter of fact. We both chuckle lightly tiredly.

“Well since you do have the day off tomorrow, I would love it if you were actually my personal cheerleader and pull out that cheer outfit from your high school days.” he says stupidly.

“We’ll see about that.” I say as he leans down to have a quick little kissing scene, before he shifts himself back onto my bed, pulling my into the spooning position, and pulling the duvet on top of us. Me smiling because I know damn well I will be in that cheer outfit he loves so much, because I missed everything about him, especially him inside of me.