#Or remember the experience of having your butt wiped by someone else. That also counts.

[dykeogenes]

I’m not interested in the opinions of folks who’ve never wiped another person’s ass. Doesn’t have to be a lot of asses. Can just be changing a baby’s diaper, that counts. But I think you should have wiped at least two asses before voicing your thoughts in a public forum.

[luimagines]

He reacts to seeing you Sick/Wounded Part 3

Final part of the prompt below!

Masterlist

First Part Previous Part

Scenario under the cut!

Four

Four starts looking through Wind’s borrowed telescope at the monster below them and tries to search for weak points and guard trails. There’s a good number of them, at least two per person here but they’re closer to the town than anyone anywhere is comfortable with so they have to go.

“AHHHCHOOO!!”

Multiple monsters look in your direction.

“Will you keep it down?” Legend snapped. “Sneeze a little louder next time, I don’t the monsters in the back heard you.”

“I’m not trying to be loud.” You sniffle and furiously wipe your face. “There’s got be something in the air here. I’m not allergic period. This just isn’t like me.”

Four nods in agreement and takes his eyes away from the telescope. He hands it back to Wind, who eagerly takes his spot and makes his way toward you.

In all honesty, you look miserable. And have since that morning.

You’re constantly sneezing, your nose and eyes are red and blotchy and it goes out to cheeks. You’ve been blowing your nose on random leaves since you’ve run out of tissues earlier that day and it continuously seems to be plugged despite it all. You also seem to be shivering ever so slightly but you never made any mention of being cold.

Four frowns to himself and pokes your neck, only to startled into placing his whole hand there. You’re covered in a cold sweat but warm despite the temperature outside.

“What the heck Four?” You knock his hand away and take a step back.

“I think you’re sick.” He blurts with as much grace a bull in a china shop.

“I’m no-” You cut yourself off with a cough this time. It’s so strong that you bend over and fall to your butt on the ground with barely any time in between to catch your breath.

“Benched.” Time turns on his heel and points you back the way you came. “Go back to the town. You’re not fit to fight.”

You whimper after the cough attack and nod, getting to your feet. Four doesn’t like the idea of you going back alone but he knows his friends need the numbers to take the monsters down fast enough, so he doesn’t offer for a moment. He tries to come to a decision before they make any more moves without him but Time speaks again.

“Four. Go with them. Make sure they actually make it to the town.” Time commands and turns to the rest of the group. “We’re going to need fire power.”

Four catches Warrior and Wild grin manically. “Leave it to us!”

“You had to say something.” Four snickers at Twilight misfortune and jogs slightly to catch up with you.

You’re still trying to wipe at your face with your sleeve and it leaves a trail of snot and tears on the fabric.

It’s a bit disgusting....Ok, it’s super gross and it makes Four want to gag somewhat but he’ll let you have it.

Being sick is gross. He’s just got to make sure your clothes are washed when it passes.

“Four?” You call.

He perks up and speeds up to fall in line with your steps. “I’m here.”

You look at him for a moment and sniffle again. “ ’m sorry you got sent back with me. You looked excited to take some monsters down.” 

“I’m...” Four looked to the side and tried to find the right words to talk to you. “I mean, I’ll live with it. I’m not that disappointed to be honest. I was thinking of joining you anyway. It didn’t feel right for you head out on your own.”

“But you want to support the others.” You argue. “I could see it. You had to think about it.”

“Ok well-”

“There’s a lot of them out there, isn’t there?” You press and frown to yourself. “A lot of monsters that are going to take all their hands and then some to be taken down and I get sent back and you have to come with me-”

“Ok, hold up.” Four grabs your bicep and shakes it a little. “Slow that down. It’s not like you asked to get sick. I know just as much you do that we’d both rather be up there with them. That’s a given. But you need to take care of yourself as well and I don’t mind being with you anyway.”

You push your mouth to the side and don’t look at him. “I better not get you sick.”

Four snorts ever so slightly and moves his hand from you arm to your hand, lacing your fingers together and swinging them ever so slightly. He knows you don’t want him to see the smile on your face when he does so but it’s your reaction every time.

“While I doubt it’ll happen, you’ll take care of me if I do get sick, right?”

“Always.” 

Warrior

They were in a new area this time. Warrior can’t recognize the landscape or the town’s names as they pass so he’s content to let someone else take the lead for a change.

The town’s people had mentioned a sealed temple of sorts that hadn’t been used in ages. Bad things had been happening in the area so they were advised to steer clear.

Naturally they had to go check it out.

Don’t leave no stone unturned and all that jazz.

If anything, it sounds more like a dungeon at this point so he’s a bit excited to get some practice in. 

Warrior walks near the front of the group and lets outa whistle when the reach their goal.

It a large dark blue building with three spiraling towers in a triangle-fecta with multiple columns around the front of it, acting as a sort of imposing gate. The columns themselves are full of grotesque monstrous faces, which are realistic enough to cause some discomfort amongst the ranks. 

“Oh, we’re going to be here for hours.” Legend groans and tilts his head to the sky. “Maybe even days! Why are here again?”

“To eradicate evil before it grows beyond it’s borders.” Time take a breath and walks forward. “The people are afraid and it’s our job to put an end to it.”

Warrior can agree with that, it’s what the hero does after all. Fine print and all that.

But you make a small whimper from behind him and turns around to see you. You don’t pleased one bit with your arms crossed and your head down. “I don’t like this place.”

Right. Not a Link. This technically isn’t in your job description, unlike them.

“You could wait out here?” Wild offers. Warrior remembers that they’re alike in a  away with the lack of experience with dungeons and wonders if maybe either one of them can stay back as well. Surely, they don’t all have to go in, do they?

Sky grins good naturally and punches you gently on your shoulder. “You good?”

“This whole place feels wrong.” You reply. “Do we have to go through there?”

“It’s because it feels wrong that we have to go in.” Hyrule shrugs. “We have to make it better.”

“If we find loot inside, it’s just a bonus.” Wind bounces up to you with grin.

“What’s the problem? Are you scared?” Legend taunts. “Do you need someone to hold your hand?”

“Are you offering?” You snap back.

“He may not be, but I am.” Warrior holds his hand out and smiles at you with as much charm as he can conjure up. He has no idea what possesses him to comment and he hopes that you don’t take offence to it. He wasn’t trying to mock you.

To his surprise, you look at his hand for a little moment longer than he think it’s worth and gently reach out to lace your fingers together.

Your hand is warm and you don’t look at him when he feels you give it a small squeeze. “Ok, let’s go.”

This is not a big deal. He’s not going to make it a big deal.

He just wanted to be a good friend is all. Yeah, that’s all it was.

As the group you all head into the cursed building and are immediately faced with choices.

Five hallways. No end in sight in any of them and no other options.

“Guess we split the party.” Twilight shrugged. “I’ll go with Wind.”

This was first pair off and others started to claim a partner for the journey ahead.

“I guess I already have my partner.” Warrior smiles and begins to walk away. “Should we take the far left?”

“Don’t you know, you never split the party.” You sing under your breath and tug on Warrior’s hand to the beat. “Clerics in the back, keep those fighter hale and hearty. The wizard in the middle where he can shed some light and you never let the damn thief out of sight.”

You’re not paying attention to him.

He chalks it up to your previous nervous energy and takes the lead instead.

The hallway you both travel through is dark and beginning to shrink. the two of you are now shoulder to shoulder and with more time, have to walk in a single file line.

You don’t let go of his hand.

Occasionally there is the lone torch to keep the path ahead illuminated but Warrior thinks that they’re more for decoration and peace of mind than any actual use. You know, considering the vast space of nothing in front of you.

The hallway comes to an abrupt stop and Warrior can feel you crash into his back. Before him a large room with torches on every other wall, eight walls in total, counting the one with the entryway. There’s nothing inside but a single glowing blue ball of light.

It reminds him faintly of Proxy and he steps inside the room to get a better look.

“Will o’ the wisp.” You mutter from behind and stop from entering the room any farther, stopping Warrior as well in the process.

“What?” He turns to you and can see how tense you are.

“Back home,” You begin. “They are known to be by swamps, bogs and the like. They’re supposed to mislead travelers and are used as a symbol of a goal that’s impossible to reach and are typically sinister in nature. What ever you do, don’t follow it.”

Warrior takes the warning to heart, takes a step and returns to your side.

Nothing like Proxy at all.

“What do we do then?” He asks, not taking his eyes off of it.

“I don’t know...” You gulp. “I didn’t even think they’d be here. They’re not known to be fighters... just mess with your head and lead you to your doom.”

On cue, the light shifts and begins to circle the room. Warrior makes a grab for his sword and you copy his movements. The two of you stand back to back and watch it closely.

It flies straight into a wall after a dizzying moment and a door appears where there wasn’t one before.

“That’s it?” Warrior stands down but his grip is tight, on both your hand and his weapon. “Guess that’s the way out.”

“No. What did I just say? Don’t follow it.”

“But it’s gone.”

“It went that way. Don’t go in the same direction.” You stress.

Warrior lets go of your hand and turns to stare at you head on, taking a step back and entering the rest of the room. He goes to open his mouth to reply- but his foot goes lower than he anticipates.

He’s activated something.

You jump as the entryway where you once were, shuts and the torches go out instantly, plunging the whole room into darkness.

“Link?” You call out and Warrior has no idea where you are all of a sudden.

He regrets letting go of your hand.

“Still here.” He chuckles nervous and finishes the sentence with an audible gulp.

The Will o’ wisp returns from a different direction and he hears you scream.

Warrior is quick to reach for Legend’s fire rod and he fires it into the air.

The ball of light leaves but the he’s taken gives just enough light to see what’s happened. You’ve ended up on the floor and somehow took a hit to your head that’s pouring blood all over your face, with a massive skeleton over you, poised to take another hit.

The fire from the rod dies out and the room goes black again.

But at least Warrior knows where you are.

And now he’s pissed.

He fires the rod again right at the monster and feels a vindictive sort of satisfaction when the creature catches aflame. He’s quick to launch the monster away from you and help you up. He passes you the rod, taking a full hold on his sword and stands in front of you.

“Light up the room and monsters, yeah? I’ll finish them off.” He says and drops into a defensive stance.

“Bad things happen with Wips.” You mutter and prepare to fire rod again and instead spin across the floor. Some of the torches relight but it’s clear they won’t last long.

More monsters start to appear from the doors the wisp activates now that the initial key has been set off.

“I’ll listen to you next time!” Warrior finishes the first beast and begin on the next.

“I think I’ll leave the dungeon stuff to the Links. Leave you, your puzzles and your monsters to each other.” You start talking to yourself. “This is no way to make a living.”

“Tell me about it. I didn’t even have these in my Hyrule.”

Hyrule

Hyrule has no clue what he’s was doing.

He could admit that.

He was used to having magic at his disposal and fixing the problem with it. But this? This was a little beyond his pay grade.

He wasn’t even being paid.

“ ‘Rule!” You cry from the bed. You hand is outstretched in an attempt to reach him but he’s too far away from your grasp.

He walks over to your side and grabs your hand. “I’m here. What do you need?”

“Can I have a glass of water?” You grip his hand and he’s hit with a wave of concern when he sees it’s not really that strong.

“Yeah, sure.” He says, getting up. “Give me a minute.”

You smile at him and close your eyes again. He hates how miserable you look. Flushed cheeks and forehead, raging fever, cold sweat running off you in a vain attempt to cool yourself down, you’re shaking and he catches you mumble every now and then but he can’t catch what you say.

Hyrule’s silver lining is that you’ve been mostly asleep through the day, making his job a little easier as nurse and doctor. The most he can complain about is that it’s a little boring.

He still doesn’t know what’s he’s doing.

He had thought that it was something he could handle but but was only within the first hour that he realized he was powerless to help you with anything.

He feels a little useless.

The others had gone out to survey the town they’re cooped up in and get details and equipment.

Hyrule knows himself well enough and has learned enough from the others that he’s pretty much... well, useless in a market. Money isn’t really a concept where he’s from or at least not with the bells and whistles and unwritten rules that everyone else seems to know at the drop of a hat.

On top of that, with Hyrule’s bleeding heart, he had offered to be the one to stay behind and look after you while they were gone most of the day. He figured that if he was the groups healer then he could help you with this too.

Wrong.

Again, he’s thankful you’ve mostly been sleeping.

When he’s retrieved your request and made it back to the room, he stops dead in his tracks at the door.

There’s... something over you. A shadow like blob with no discernable shape, figure or features. The revelation shocks Hyrule into stillness at the idea of you being in danger.

It’s not outwardly hurting you. Just watching.

Or so he thinks anyway.

You still look peacefully unaware of the conscious world and look to be in a deep sleep once more. Meaning, you have idea that this.. thing is here.

Hyrule doesn’t move but he looks around is immediate vicinity. His sword is barely within arms reach and he knows that the step he’s about to take is directly on a squeaky board. It would alert his presence and he doesn’t have anyway of currently fighting that thing.

He crouches down and places your cup by the door frame. He then places is hand just beyond the squeaky board and crawls those few inches to reach his sword.

As soon as it’s within his grasp, he calls on his magic and throws his astral sword in the thing’s direction.

It makes contact, but does no damage.

The shadow mass merely “stands” straighter and stills all movement.

This thing may not have a face but Hyrule is sure that it’s checking him out, assessing him, gauging what kind of threat he might be if he were to attack again.

Hyrule readies himself into a defensive stance and glares right back.

There are no words spoken.

Just as he’s about to charge, it dips down and disappears through the floor boards. The air in room ceases to be charged with unfathomable energy and he knows that it’s gone.

Hyrule is confused and on edge. He’s never seen something like before and he doubts that it’ll help your condition if he asks you or if you would know anything about it.

He straps his sword on his back, just in case, and picks up your cup.

“Link?” You call again, trying to push yourself up into a sitting position. You’re still very weak and very tired and you give up half way.

“I have your water.” He says instead, trying his best to smile for you. He holds it out to you and hopes that you don’t notice that his hands are shaking.

You grin in response and take it, seemingly none the wiser.

You sigh in relief as you sip. “You’re a good friend. Thanks for staying with me. I’m sure it’s been pretty boring when all the others are been productive.”

“I don’t mind one bit. I’ll be here for as long as you need me.” He sits on the bed.

Hyrule continuously has no idea what he’s doing.

But he certainly isn’t going to be bored from here on out. 

He has to protect you now, from whatever that was, so he will. 

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | Chapter sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Amoreena meets Jo, Jo shares her experience with the foster homes (tw self-harm and child abuse), and Spencer shares his shitty childhood with her. They bond, he loves her more than he thought possible, his dreams of a big happy family are coming true.

word count: 4.8k

from the beginning <3

His phone is ringing at 7:50 and all he does is groan, forgetting Y/N’s agreement with Amoreena. His wife reached over his face and towards the phone, picking up with an overly cheerful tone for a pregnant woman who was up until 3 am.

“Hello sweet girl, how was your sleep?”

“Ugh,” she makes a weird face as the morning nausea kicks in and she tries to swallow it down. “Yeah? Oh, I’m so glad, dad and I are just waking up. We have another big surprise for you today… I know honey there’s always a lot going on, but this one is a good one I promise!”

“Can I go talk to her?” Spencer asks, “alone?”

“Dad’s going to come and see you while mommy has a shower, okay? I love you too, bye,” she smiles as she hangs up and passes the phone back to him.

They kiss quickly before separating, Spencer throws on the same clothes from the beach last night before heading down the hall towards Amoreena’s room. He knocks quietly before entering, seeing her sitting in a queen bed with 2 cats.

“Taylor let Olivia and Benjamin stay in here last night, she said they usually sleep in here anyway!” She was whispering, but it was still loud for her this early.

He sat on the edge of her bed and gave her a big hug, “how was your night?”

“Really amazing, Dad, Taylor is my best friend now,” she’s completely serious, “I hope mom’s not too upset about that, I guess we could share her…”

“That’s a nice thought, are you good at sharing?”

“I think so,” she nods with a serious face.

“Good, because there’s a new person who’s coming to live with us. She’s going to be kind of sad for a while and I’ll be spending a lot of time with her too,” he watches her face as she listens, confused but fine with it.

“Who is she?”

“Did your mom tell you how she made you?”

She nods, “she said sometimes people with penises donate sperm to help people have babies, and you were the one who donated for me,” she gives him a run down so seriously that it makes him laugh like the 7-year-old.

“Yeah, exactly, well I also helped 2 other families make babies,” he says softly, petting her hair as she understands what that means.

“So I have more siblings?”

“Yep, 2 sisters and a brother,” he smiles as she starts to bounce with excitement. “Josephine is 12, almost 13, and she’s coming to live with us.”

“Where is her mom?” She asks, he knew she would.

“Her mom and dad were in an accident, they died and she looked for me because she didn’t want to be alone anymore,” he knows it’s a hard topic, and that she understands death after losing her gg, but it’s still hard.

“Oh, that’s sad,” she frowns, moving in to hug him again, she keeps her head pressed to his shoulder. “I hope she’s okay, is she here now too?”

“She is, but I’m not sure if she’s awake yet, she’s a teenager and they sometimes sleep in longer than you would, like when Henry was over and slept until noon,” he has all his kids profiled in his minds and it’s actually more helpful than a hindrance.

“Does she like Taylor?”

He knew that one was coming too, “she’s a huge fan, she cried meeting her just like mom.”

“Is she going to call my mom her mom now?”

“I don’t think so, would that upset you?” He’s worried for the answer, he had the same jealous tendencies growing up. Hell, he still has them.

“No, she needs a mom, I would be very sad without mine, I know she needs one too,” she looked at him like it was a stupid question because of course, all kids need a mom and her mom happened to be the best.

“That’s really nice of you, she knows all about you and she’s really excited to move in with us, maybe you can help her decorate her room?” He isn’t sure what Jo will think, but he knows it would be good for bonding.

“Can we see if she’s awake? Wait, she’s a she right? Miss Kennedy said sometimes people look like girls but they don’t like to feel like girls, so we use they,” Amoreena was so worried about being a good sister he didn’t know why he worried so much.

“Well, I’m not sure, Jo hasn’t told me but you can ask?”

She shot right out of bed, still in her dress from last night as she ran to the door, “come on, what room is it?”

“Right there, knock nicely,” he says as he joins her in the hall, pointing to the room across from her.

She knocked 3 times, hearing a small ‘yeah?’ From the other side before opening it, “good morning!” Amoreena cheered.

“Amoreena!” Jo smiled as she got out of bed and ran over to her. She dropped to her knees so they’d be the same height and wrapped her up in her arms.

They hugged like this was a reunion and not an introduction, they held on to one another so tightly they both squeezed their eyes shut and held their breath. He knew that kind of hug, that was a hug you gave when you deeply loved the person you were hugging.

It made him want to cry, again.

Jo pulled back from her and Amoreena immediately held her face in her hands, observing her. “Yep, you’re my sister,” she smiled as she saw her nose.

That same perfect little button that was slightly angled towards the sky, she booped it lightly. Jo booped her right back.

“I am, it’s pretty cool getting to share a dad with you cause now I get to meet Taylor Swift, how the heck did we get so lucky?” Jo talks to her like she’s used to being around kids, finding the wonder in every word and saying the whole sentence with enthusiasm.

She turns to him, both his girls making the same face as they looked at him in the doorway, “how did you meet Taylor, dad?”

“You remember Uncle Dave? He came over for the barbecue and talked to poppy bob about winemaking all night?”

“Yeah, he’s Italian,” Amoreena remembered his funny accent and how she called him Mario.

“His daughter is Taylor’s friend, so Taylor sent me an email asking to meet you,” he couldn’t help but smile as she did.

“So you guys really are knights at the FBI, huh?”

“Yeah, but my armour got too rusty so now I’m going to guard the princess only, no more battles for me,” he was happy to make it magical, to turn the terribleness of it all into something she could be proud of.

He feels cold hands reaching under the back of his shirt then as he jumps, Y/N is wrapping her arms around him and pressing her cheek to his back, “your armour is fine, it just needs some polish.”

“They’re kinda gross, you’ll have to get used to that,” Amoreena says, pressing her lips together awkwardly as she looks at Jo.

“It’s nice though, it makes you feel like love is real,” Jo smiled back, “not many kids have happy families.”

“You do now, okay?” Amoreena took her cheeks in her hands again, something she must have learned from Y/N. “My family is your family and we are the best family, you’re going to have so much fun with us, can I help you decorate your room?”

Jo cried, laughing lightly as she nodded, “that would be cool, maybe we can get bunk beds for random sleepovers?”

Amoreena shot her eyes to her mom, “can we?”

“That would be cool,” Y/N agreed, “we’ll go to Ikea on Friday when I’m not working, okay?”

“And this weekend we can buy some paint for your room?” Spencer added, “you guys can plan all week together.”

“Yes!” Amoreena cheered, hugging Jo again.

Jo held her gently, resting her cheek against the top of Amoreena’s head with a small smile. She looked genuinely happy, peaceful like she belonged somewhere again.

Right then Amoreena’s eyes are darting right to him, “It’s fathers day!” She screams, way too loud for 8 am in someone else’s home. Thank god Taylor was on the other side of the mansion.

“Oh my god,” Amoreena smacked her forehead with her little hand, “I was so carried away with the wedding I didn’t pack your present, dad! I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve got you covered little miss,” Y/N smiled at her, “It’s in my purse!”

Amoreena pushed past them in the doorway and ran to their room in search of said purse. Probably emptying it out on the bed and making a huge mess, but it was fine.

Y/N took a moment to kiss his cheek, “good morning, happy father’s day.”

“Thank you,” he blushed, turning to face her and hold her close, “I can feel you staring Jo, come here.”

She comes skipping right over, wrapping her arms around them both and resting her head on Spencer’s side. For a 12-year-old she was tall, a lot taller than Henry was, that’s for sure.

“Hey!” Amoreena butts in, “let me in,” she pushed into the middle of the hug to steal all the warmth, “happy father’s day, dad.”

“Happy father’s day,” Jo added with a soft smile, “thank you for everything.”

“Yeah, you’re the best dad in the world, Jo you should see how he reads with his mind, he doesn’t even need to look at the books at bedtime,” Amoreena bragged, pulling back from all of them then.

Spencer wiped the tears from his face and pretended he wasn’t crying, overwhelmed by love just like he told Jo to expect. “I love you guys, I’m so glad I helped make you both, you’re the best kids a dad could ask for.”

“Here,” Amoreena hands him a wrapped present.

It’s a handmade book, blue construction paper bound with green ribbon in little loops and covered in a thin layer of tissue paper from the present he got her last week. He carefully removes the tissue and hands it back to her, “do you still want it for dresses?”

“Sure,” she takes it with a smile, “I wrote this for you after a dream I had, Miss Kennedy helped me write it all and reword it a bit. But it’s all from my brain.”

“Spencer’s little women,” he reads and then his heartbeat almost stops when he sees the bottom, “by Amoreena Reid.”

“We can go sit in the living room while you read it to us?” Y/N offered, taking the girl's hands and leading them all down the hallway.

Taylor’s house was full of floor-to-ceiling windows, allowing them to watch the sunrise over the ocean as they cuddled up on the couch as a family. Him and his little women.

“Once upon a time, there was a kingdom ruled by a beautiful princess who had a broken heart. She promised to hide away from the townspeople until she gathered all the pieces again,” Spencer read the first sentence and knew he wouldn’t be able to make it through the whole book.

“You know, I think it would be better if you read this to me Amoreena,” he asks her gently, “I want to know it from your voice first.”

“Okay,” she bounces up from where she cuddled into her mother to take the book from his hand, sitting straight as she got ready to read.

“Slowly, but surely, the pieces came back to her one by one as the people felt the need to search for her, they missed seeing her smile as she ruled alongside her parents, the king and queen until her heart was fixed.

A little girl, Lady Amoreena, arrived like a gift. A fairy godmother handing a small child to the princess to raise and love forever and ever, they were best friends more than anything.

But the princess’s baby girl made it her mission to fix the rest of her heart as she grew up seeing her mom frown, questing for princes and kings, even another princess to come and fill that last missing spot of her heart. To make their family love grew as the cracks from where they separated were healed.

She set off on her daily adventure, running off past the gates on the way to the willow tree, excited to see what wonders the pond of youth brought to her this time. Surprised to find a knight, his broken and rusty armour fallen on the ground, he was wrapped in weeds, he had been trapped for too long to remember.

Amoreena cut the vines off him with her sword, “you’re free now, sir knight.”

“How can I ever repay you?” The kind man with the same nose as her asked.

“Meet the princess, tell her about your battles, make her laugh and you can stay with us,” she gives him one final quest. His last ever duty.

The princess smiles as soon as they meet. He wins her over without even trying, he completes their family and makes all the cracks in her heart fuse back together. Gold light shines from her as she’s healed, completed by the love of a family she never knew she needed.

The love didn’t end there… the knight and the princess knew lady Amoreena would be like her mom when she grew up. The possibility of a sad and broken heart as she got older, so they made her 8 more siblings, her group of sisters to keep her company during the happily ever after part.

“Sir Spencer, where are all your little women?” The king of the land asked, seeing the knight and the princess all alone on the path, old and slow as they walked.

“Down by the pond, it’s story day!”

He knew that’s where they’d always be, at their pond with a book, braiding each other's hair, weaving flower crowns and chasing each other through the wildflowers that replaced the vines that once held him down.

Free, healed and happy. Spencer and his little women healed the princess, allowing her to take the role as Queen, like her grandma always wanted for her.”

“There isn’t a 'the end'?” Y/N’s voice questions lightly as Spencer cries too hard to even respond.

She was the most amazing child in the whole world and he didn’t know what he did to deserve her. He wrapped her up in his arms and held her so tight she was smacking his arm to let her go with a laugh, “I want to add more to it when I’m older, like GG’s book.”

“You can write one for all your sisters,” Y/N smiles at her softly, “you know, gg only wrote Amoreena because you came to her in a dream?”

She nodded, “that’s why I started writing this book for dad because I had a dream about him reading to all of us, he was so old it was funny.”

“How old?” He asks, remembering his reflection from his own dream.

“Like poppy, you had a white beard!”

“What did we talk about?” He doesn’t know why he wants to know so badly but he’s desperate to know if their dream was the same.

“It was story day, you and mom were late, but you said, ‘I’d never miss a Saturday with my little women,’” she smiles, “I’m so glad you’re my dad.”

She holds him back just as tight this time, snuggling into his chest as he breathes her in. His first little baby, even if she was the middle kid now, she was his baby, he couldn’t even imagine holding someone even smaller than her soon.

—

They take a quick trip to target in the morning, needing to get some things for Jo and Y/N really, really wanted chocolate-covered cranberries, making sure he knew that she would kill him if he didn’t bring them back to her. Finally having those pregnancy mood swings he was expecting.

Jo is quick to pick out some summer clothes and a bathing suit for the day as well as toiletries and anything else she wanted because Spencer said so. He was going to spoil her because he didn’t know what else to do. This is what he wanted from his dad, someone to see something, think of him and just get it to make him smile.

She saw some purple bedding that she liked, so it ended up in the cart. And then she needed some new pillow, and some fitted sheets… oh and those curtains are nice… and before they knew it they had $300 worth of things for her bedroom in the back of Y/N’s car.

Jo pressed her lips together awkwardly as they sat in the front seats of the car, he looked over at her and smiled, making her laugh, “this is the best father’s day.”

“I’m supposed to be getting you gifts today!”

“You are a gift, Jo,” he doesn’t mean to get sappy, but he can’t help the love he feels for her already.

“Drive before I cry, dude,” she turns to look out the window. “Are we going to have a 'ground rules and behaviour' speech like all the foster parents do? I have a feeling you have no idea what you’re doing.”

He starts the car then, pulling out of the lot and starting the 40-minute car ride back with her, “how do they normally set the rules in the foster homes?”

“They pay for my phone bill with the money provided for me each month and they sometimes get me the groceries I want for lunches and stuff but they mostly kept the money for themselves. I’m only allowed on the internet for an hour a day, homework has to be done in front of their eyes at the kitchen table, no food after 7 pm, lights off and no walking around by 9,” she gave the rundown and it made Spencer’s stomach turn.

“I will pay for your phone bill, you don't need to worry about that. We can even get you a new one when we get home. Y/N has great internet and every streaming service available, you don’t have a time limit here. Just promise me you’ll go outside sometimes?” He reaches a hand out to hold her’s while driving, letting her know he means what is coming next.

“I trust you have a way of life you’re used to, and I’m not going to change that on you, if you want to share things with me and be open and honest, I’m always here and I will never judge you. I don’t want you to ever feel like you need to hide things from me. And that being said, I trust you enough to use the internet safely, and not hack anything without good reason anymore?”

Derek was right, it’s surprisingly easy to be a dad. All you have to do is love them and be there for them.

“Okay, then I think you should know,” she takes a deep breath and a pause. “I’m pretty sure I like girls too, I never got to tell my mom that but I’m sure she knew, and I’m kind of scared to put my bathing suit on when I get home.”

“First of all, I’m proud of you,” he squeezes her hand 3 times, and she does it right back with a smile. “Secondly, why? Did you not get one you liked? I was fine buying any of them for you.”

“I have a lot of scars on my legs, and I don’t want to scare Amoreena,” she’s really ashamed of herself and Spencer understands it.

He rolls his sleeve up and extends his arm for her to see his very faded track marks, “I was drugged on a case once, I had an addiction after. The scars fade over time, but I also haven’t shown Amoreena my bare arms yet.”

“Mine are pretty faded now too, it’s been a few months, they look more like stretch marks,” she smiled at his honesty, feeling safer with him.

“If she asks, you can say it was from a cat at the foster home. She’ll think about Cinderella and the evil stepmother's cat, and then completely forget why she asked,” he assures her, knowing Amoreena like the back of his hand now.

“Lucifer,” Jo smiles, “I was like her as a kid too, always making up stories and finding new movies to be obsessed with. I have ADHD, by the way, but I’m un-medicated cause my last foster home didn’t listen to the school’s diagnosis,” she says it like it’s not a big deal.

His blood starts to boil at the thought of someone not taking care of her, “excuse me?”

“Yeah, and when I asked for a therapist they said no to that too, I was ‘fine’ apparently and they settled for a dead parents support group so that Colin could have a coffee while I sat there,” she’s oblivious to how terrible it is.

“Make me a list of all the things you want, I mean everything down to the most niche interest or therapy technique that you’ve researched and I will help you with whatever it is,” Spencer is furious at the conditioning she’s experienced to think this is okay.

“You don’t have to, dad, I’m okay now,” she lies and he can tell.

“You don’t have to be, believe me, I cry almost every night to Y/N about things I thought I had recovered from. If you want to talk to someone because you think it will help, or if you want medicine because you feel like it’ll help you focus better or just be happier, I’m here to help you get that.”

She goes quiet, staring at their hands where he’s still squeezing her palm. She rubs her thumb along the skin softly, “did your mom ever hurt you?”

“Only when she wasn’t really there in her own mind,” he presses his lips together right after, he’s never told anyone about it.

“Did your dad?”

“Emotionally, but he wasn’t there long enough to lay a hand on me.”

She nods at the response, “my dad was evil, I think he killed my mom in that ‘accident’, but on purpose.”

“I thought my dad was a murderer once too, but it was actually my dad’s friend,” he isn’t sure why he’s telling her everything, but she deserved to know.

“There was a pedophile in our town who killed this boy, Riley, and my mom told him about a man who was watching me like I was next. And Riley’s dad killed him, but I was so young my mind tried to think it was my dad who did it all.”

“Your old job must have really messed you up inside too, huh?” She tries to laugh it off, scared of his past but intrigued at the same time, he just nods at her observation.

“I have a friend, her name is Penelope, her parents died when she was a little bit older than you. She snuck out and they went to look for her, and they were in a car crash,” he makes sure she’s comfortable, her hand is still in his and her thumb is still moving over his skin.

“Like you, she got into hacking, the FBI had to hire her because she was so good she became a threat, you’d really like her,” he says, turning to look at her quickly, he loves the smile on her face.

“I’d love to meet her,” she smiled, “thank you, I wish you could have always been my dad.”

It breaks his heart a little, “well, you have me forever now.”

—

“Two questions,” Y/N’s voice approaches as she walks towards the trunk of her car.

Jo and Spencer are digging through all the shopping bags trying to find all the things that she needs for the afternoon, leaving the rest for the ride home.

“Here,” Spencer hands her the chocolate-covered cranberries, “king-sized bag.”

“I love you,” she smiles as she takes it, “the second question, how are the suitcases going to fit in there now? We have two kids to bring home, they’re going to be squished.”

“I don’t mind,” Jo smiles, “one time they didn’t have room for me in a car so I sat in the trunk for 15 minutes.”

Spencer wrapped her up in his arms, “every time you tell me a story about what has happened to you, I want to kill someone.”

She laughs, holding him back gently, “believe me, I was an asshole to them, they got what they deserved.”

“What did you do?” Y/N worries about what she’s capable of, Spencer can tell.

“I called the tax people and said they have been claiming foster kids as dependents and now they might have tax fraud charges coming their way,” she seemed very proud of herself. “I would never hurt someone, but I have no problem getting them in trouble.”

Y/N extended her fist, bumping it off Jo’s with a smile, “as you should! Now, come on, let’s go get ready for the beach.”

Jo skipped inside with Y/N, their arms linked as they did so. Spencer couldn’t believe this was his life now. He closed the trunk with a slam, picking up the bag of things he set aside before joining them inside.

“Surprise!!!!” Amoreena screamed as soon as he walked through the door.

There was a hand-drawn Happy Father’s Day banner hanging from the staircase and purple balloons all over the place.

“Happy father’s day!!!” They all cheered for him, even Taylor’s mom was there now, smiling at the display of affection.

Amoreena and Jo came running up to him, wrapping their arms around him and holding him close, nothing felt real. “Can you pinch me?” He asked them with a small smile.

He didn’t think they’d do it, but even Y/N walked over and started pinching him all over. Amoreena pinched his leg, Jo pinched his belly button and Y/N, she pinched his cute little butt as she pressed a kiss to his blushing cheek. “You’re very real, so are we.”

“I love you guys,” Spencer reminds them, holding them all as close as he can for just a moment, “okay, enough sappiness, let’s go to the beach!”

Amoreena and Y/N are already in their swimsuits under their sundresses, Jo, on the other hand, picked out some trunks and a tank-style swim top, hiding her scares just enough that she felt comfortable getting in the sand and building a castle with Amoreena.

Y/N laid on the towel beside Spencer in the shade, Taylor and her mom were playing scrabble on the picnic table, her dad was cooking up burgers on the grill. It was serene, it was perfect, they were a little family and it made absolutely no sense to him how it all worked out so well, but he wouldn’t change any of it.

“Look how big it is after lunch,” Y/N grabbed his attention, sticking her belly out as far as it could go, “I’m going to get so huge again, at least this time I’ll be the biggest when it’s cold out.”

“Are you comfortable? Do you need more sunscreen or water?” Spencer worried, making her smile as she pushed her sunglasses up and turned to him.

“I am fantastic, thank you, cutie.”

He leans in to kiss her gently, but she wraps her arms around him and pulls him down on top of her. Kissing him like she just rescued him from the sea and hasn’t seen him for years.

When he finally pulls away, he doesn’t go far. Just sitting up as he brushes her hair off her face, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she reminds him with another soft smile.

“I missed mother’s day with you by only a few days, but you should know you’re the best mother in the whole world,” he whispered, wanting to share his day with her because, without her, he wouldn’t be a father.

She pulls him into another kiss, hands resting on his cheeks as she breathes in deeply through her nose. It’s like she’s taking the soul out of his body, he's a part of her now forever and always. He never wants to be anywhere else.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

@k-k0129

[wooyunhwa]

𝒑𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚 | 𝑱𝒀

Genre: smut

Pairing: Yunho x fem reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings:  very dom!yunho, power dynamic, size kink, corruption kink kind of?, sex with your boss, choking, crying, rough sex, mentions of pain. 

Synopsis: When the heartless boss at your company pulls you into his office for the second time, you prepare to be fired. But he has other plans for you...

Tall, dark, handsome.

Those were the three words you would use to describe him. Sure, they were cliche, but they had never applied to anyone else like they did to him. There was only one problem -- he was your boss. Also… he seemed to hate you. 

Power dynamics had always appealed to you. You were turned on by the idea of control, and he had the most.

On the outside, you looked innocent. You made it a point to dress nicely every day, and your style of choice was soft, sweet, and girly. You wouldn’t say you were that innocent, although your previous sexual experiences had been less that gratifying, and almost excruciatingly vanilla.

Everyone in the office feared him, and you were no exception. Being called into his office was the worst thing anyone could imagine. You and your coworkers would joke around: “You better not take an extra minute on your lunch today, or Yunho will call you into his office.” There was a saying in your department, that if he called you in, you wouldn’t make it out. 

You had been called in once. You were reprimanded harshly about a mistake you made on an important document you had submitted. He was harsh, cold, and his deep voice sent shivers down your spine. You thought he was going to fire you on the spot that day. Instead, to your surprise, he let you go. You remember the fear you felt, the anxiety, and most of all you remember the feeling of his gaze on your back as he watched you leave his office. You were humiliated. Ever since that day, you avoided eye contact with him completely. Most people around the office did, anyway.

But that fear made your attraction to him even greater. You couldn’t explain it, but the taboo of it all was appealing to you. It didn’t matter though. You were convinced he hated you, you were just another disposable girl right out of college he could use for a while, and then fire without warning. There was no way anything ever would happen between you, but you couldn’t help but daydream at your desk about the things he could do to you. 

It was Friday, and you were sitting at your desk, watching the clock move slowly. Only 10 minutes to weekend freedom, you thought. The idea washed you over with relief.

The rest of your coworkers had dressed casually today, as they usually did on Fridays, but you were in your usually extra outfit -- a pleated skirt that fell above your knees, a cute blouse with lace trim, and a sweet bow tying your hair up out of your face. You had perfected the balance between cute and professional. Your co-workers sometimes teased you for how you dressed, your cutesy style drawing attention to how small you were. You were often mistaken for younger than you actually were because of it, but you didn’t mind too much. 

Yunho would usually make his rounds around the office to wish everyone a good weekend. It was something he did every Friday, the only day of the week he seemed to have a glimmer of humanity. Regardless, everyone was on edge as he paced through the workspace. 5 minutes left in the day, yet everyone would dig into their work and try to look as busy as possible, fearing punishment if they slacked off.

As he approached your desk, he stopped there for an unusually long amount of time, looming silently. You kept your eyes forward, not daring to acknowledge him before he spoke to you. 

He cleared his throat. “Y/N,” he started. He never used the names of his employees, unless he was reprimanding them, and even then, he rarely did so in front of the whole office. Your name rolling off his tongue made you freeze. 

Fuck, fuck, what did I do? Your mind was in a frenzy. You looked up at him, eyes wide, trembling with anxiety. You probably looked like a deer in headlights. 

He flashed you a smile, and you couldn’t comprehend it. You’d never seen him smile. You couldn’t read it -- was it sinister, or was it genuine? “No need to work so hard,” he said, the words dripping off his tongue smoothly. His deep voice was one of the most attractive things about him. You swallowed, quickly exiting out of your document. “It’s Friday.” You swallowed. “Yes, sir, sorry. I just wanted to get this proposal finished before I left.”

“Mhm…” he leaned his back against your desk, making piercing eye contact. You couldn’t help but glance down at the suit he was wearing. He looked incredible in it... He was so tall and lean, and his perfectly tailored suit accentuated that. You two looked out of place in the office today, the only two who weren’t dressed casually. He towered over you even when you were standing, but especially now, as you had to practically tip your head 90 degrees to meet his gaze. He tapped his fingers on your desk. “Why don’t you see me in my office before you go, okay?” 

You gulped. Those were words you never wanted to hear. “Y-yes sir,” you stammered. He turned his back and walked out into the hallway. You didn’t realize it, but you had been nearly holding your breath for the entire encounter, and as he left, you exhaled in relief, only forgetting for a second what he had asked.

Your coworker made eye contact from across the desk. “Holy fuck, Y/N, what was that?”

“I don’t know…” you responded, still shaken from your interaction.

As you gathered your things and made your way to his office, you mentally prepared to be fired. One time in his office wasn’t too bad, but two? You were toast for sure. 

You made a few quick knocks before entering the room meekly, head down. You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact. He was standing behind his desk, tapping his fingers on the wood expectantly. He gestured you over with a finger. Legs wobbly, you made your way over. You expected him to start scolding you, but instead…

“Why do you always dress like that?” he asked. You stopped in your tracks.

Huh? Did you hear him right? “Like- like what sir?”

“So cute. So innocent. Are you trying to tease me?” His voice was firm, and you felt the heat of his gaze on you.

You were taken aback. “No, sir, I-I just like dressing like this,” you stammered. You weren’t sure how to respond. Teasing him? 

He took one step closer to you, closing the distance, and tipped your chin up until you had no choice but to look him in the eyes. “You walk around here looking so cute, so innocent, it drives me crazy,” he growled. His voice was lowered even deeper than usual. He looked angry. “Ignoring eye contact, teasing me… I won’t take it.”

“I swear, I’m not trying to tease you. I thought- I thought you hated me. That’s why I avoid eye contact,” your voice was shaky. Your mind was spinning - was this really happening? Did your boss, the one you feared and yet dreamed about, the one you fantasized about, the one you couldn’t help but picture fucking the life out of you… did he just admit to being attracted to you?

He pushed back, his eyes still boring holes in you. “If you can tell me honestly that you’re not attracted to me, that you haven’t been teasing me, I’ll let this go, and I’ll never bother you about it again,” he said, his voice softer now. “But if you can’t…”

“I-” you started, but paused. You contemplated lying. You contemplated saying you’d never thought about it. “I… I can’t tell you that I’ve never thought about you in that way.” You couldn’t believe you were telling him this. 

He leaned his butt up against his desk, and you raised your gaze to meet his. God, he looked so good in that suit. 

“I know everyone here fears me,” he started, “but I’m not a monster...” You couldn’t help but scoff a bit under your breath. He sure did act like one. There wasn’t a soul around the office who didn’t view him as any less than a heartless villain. “Unless you want me to be.” Before you could react to his words, he was in front of you, pinning you against the edge of his desk. You looked around nervously, worried someone was going to see you “Don’t worry,” he assured, leaning closer. “Everyone else is already gone.”

Your legs tensed up from under you, and suddenly you felt dampness pooling between your legs. His sudden display of control had your head spinning. He brought his thumb up to your mouth, wiping it gently across your lips, sending a chill down your spine. He had you completely pinned under him, his other hand pressed flat on the desk for stability. You could feel his dick through his suit, pressing against your body. 

Was this really happening? Was this another one of your dreams about him? If it was, you were completely lucid.

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” he said firmly, as you watched lust grow in his eyes. It was a statement, not a question. You had ample room to protest, but you didn’t. You wanted this even more than he knew.

His lips collided with yours and you took in his taste. He tasted better than you could have ever imagined, and his lips were even softer than they looked. You made out for a good while, passion escalating as your bodies moved and ground against each other. 

He hoisted you up onto his desk to get a better angle on you, pushing himself between your legs, and you felt the bulge in his suit grow against you. He hadn’t even undressed yet, and you could already tell he was huge. He had discarded his suit jacket already, now only left in his well fitted button down and pants, waist cinched in beautifully by his belt. 

He started pulling your clothes off between kisses as he made his way down your neck: first your shirt, your skirt, your bra. His kisses were hungry, desperate, and he went in on your breasts, sucking and licking at your nipples as he moved a hand to your panties. His thumb made circles on your soaked-through panties, and you moaned at the sudden stimulation.

“I can’t wait to ruin you...” he moaned against the skin of your chest, finally pulling off your panties to reveal you fully. He toyed his fingers on the folds of your pussy, testing your wetness, and circling his thumb now on your clit. He knew exactly what he was doing with his fingers, and he inserted two inside of you as he continued to mark your breasts. “So pretty, so innocent,” he breathed against your skin. The warmth of his breath felt so good in the chilly air of his office. 

His long fingers took care of the inside of you while his thumb continued to circle your clit, eliciting squeaks and moans as you started to build to your climax. Before you could go over the edge, he stopped the movement of his fingers, pulling out of you. He knelt down between your legs, admiring you for a moment before slowly swiping his tongue, lapping up wetness. His tongue was everything you ever dreamed about and more, and without much effort on his part, he sent you over the edge, your hips involuntarily bucking up into his face. You felt his lips inch into a wicked smile. “You look so cute when you’re cumming,” he praised. His sweet words felt so contrasted against the lustful look in his eye, and the rough way he handled you.

He pulled back to unbutton his shirt, revealing his figure. His chest glistened lightly with sweat. He always wore well-fitting clothes, so you knew he was fit… but his body was even more incredible than you could have dreamed of. He started to unbuckle his belt, and when he pulled down his pants to reveal his cock, you nearly choked. It was huge. Scary big. There was no way that was going to fit. He must have watched your eyes widen, because his lips twitched up into a devilish grin. “Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he comforted, “I’m sure you can take it.” 

He positioned himself between your legs, preparing himself with your wetness. You thought he was going to go slow… you were so tiny in comparison to him, and his dick was bigger than you had ever experienced. Instead, he shoved himself in without any warning, leaving you crying out in surprise. You were wet, sure, but that did little to help you take his girth. Not to mention his length...

He brought his large hand up to your throat, easily wrapping his fingers around, applying gentle pressure as he bottomed out inside of you. Your brain didn’t know what to focus on -- his grip tightening around your neck, making your vision go fuzzy, or the pain of his dick inside you stretching you out to your limit. God, he was huge, and you couldn’t believe he even made it inside. 

He squeezed his long fingers around your neck tighter, and for a moment you were certain you were going to lose consciousness. You scrambled to pull his hand from your throat, tears welling up in your eyes, mind starting to fade out of reality. You were released from your high as he loosened his grip, and you sputtered and coughed as involuntary tears spilled down your cheeks.

He hadn’t even moved yet inside of you; instead he sat there, hips flush with yours, torturing you. The hand that had been glued to your neck like a vice moved to the cup under your chin, pulling your gaze to meet his. 

“You look like a mess,” he cooed. His words were harsh, but his voice was like honey. “You look so pretty when you cry.” He swiped the back of his hand across your face, smearing your tears across your cheek. Still pushed deep inside of you, he leaned forward to plant a gentle kiss on your jaw, tasting the saltwater off your skin. 

Without warning, he took an aggressive thrust inside of you, causing you to cry out. “Shh, shh, angel,” he shushed sweetly, stroking your hair softly. “I know you can take it.” You loved when he the way he talked to you, soothed you. Something about his words and his tone of voice were so comforting despite the less-than-gentle way he handled you.

“You’re so big- it hurts- I’ve never-- ah-” he thrusted in again, and tears again spilled down your cheeks. You couldn’t tell if the pain was overwhelming the pleasure, or the pleasure overwhelming the pain. 

“You know you can tell me if you want me to stop.” Another hard thrust. You let out a choked moan, unable to control the noises you were making. 

“No, no, I want this,” you persisted. You could take whatever he had for you. You had been dreaming of fucking him since the moment you saw him, and you weren’t going to let a bit of pain come in the way of your opportunity.

He pulled out of you suddenly, filling you with emptiness, and you let out a gasp. He grabbed you haphazardly and flipped you over on to your stomach, easily maneuvering your body with his large hands, like a toy. You were draped over the desk like a doll. He grabbed your hips and pulled them against his.. His hands took their time positioning on your hips, and he seemed to be admiring the view he had. “So tiny…” he mused, admiring the small of your waist from this angle. “I could destroy you.” 

You shivered. His words felt like a threat, and yet you welcomed the thought of him ruining you. 

This time he entered you slowly -- almost too slowly. It was torturous as he took his time, and it wasn’t any easier the second time for his dick to spread you open. He pumped shallowly, tracing his fingers along the skin of your back and sides. It tickled, and you couldn’t help but squirm and giggle a bit, letting your guard down. 

That’s when he made his move. He thrusted into you even harder than before, causing you to yelp. “Sir- ah-” you moaned, giving in to the pain a bit. One of his hands came to grip your hair from behind, tugging your head back as he thrust into you deeply, finally getting into a rhythm with his hips. The pain subsided as he pumped in and out, and your pleasured moans harmonized with his throaty grunts as you moved together. You felt barely in control of your own vocal cords, every so often choking out a “fuck”, “please don’t stop”, or crying out his name.

His hips against your ass made a loud slapping sound with every thrust. From this angle you could feel every inch of him fully inside you, scraping against your tight walls. The sensations seemed to have doubled. “You're so tight,” he growled, his breathing getting heavier, approaching his climax. He delivered a final thrust before pulling out, and you felt warm liquid spill onto your back as he came. You immediately collapsed your upper body onto the desk, your legs barely holding you up. 

He lifted you off the desk easily in a bridal hold position and laid you down on the couch in the corner of his office. He left briefly for the bathroom and came back with a few paper towels to wipe you off with, singing you sweet praises as he took care of you. His voice again was sweet, smooth like honey. “What a good girl you were,” he said softly, leaning up to your ear. He lowered his voice into a whisper, sending chills down your spine. “Next time we can see how pretty you look choking on my cock.”

All you could do was nod wordlessly. You were breathless, eyes heavy, succumbing to the darkness beneath your lids. You thought about trying to get up, as you weren’t really keen to the idea of falling asleep in the office, but there was no way you’d be able to stand on your feet, let alone drive home. You felt him draw a blanket over you, covering you in much needed warmth. “I’ll see you on Monday,” he whispered into your ear as you drifted off. “The keys out of the building are on the desk.” And with that, the world fell away.

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Stud 9

Previously on Stud

“It’s been awhile.” 

“Near a decade?” 

“Well there was that convention in Prague. Maybe six, seven years ago?” 

“And the reunion at the Hargrove Estate.” 

“The presentations in Oslo?” 

“I think… I think that was right around when m mom--” Lexa furrowed as she tried to place the time that seemed to slip away from them. “I guess Prague was the last time.” 

“Five years then,” her old friend from college nodded thoughtfully. “Time is a dangerous thing. I hate it.” 

The lounge was intimate, dimly lit and clean, freshly modeled despite being an ancient and ritzy institution in its own right. Dark woods were illuminated by soft lights, large paintings covered the walls in dark gold frames. The chairs were velvet and the drinks were perfectly crafted from the best labels. The clamor of the familiar crowd in suits and ties and diamonds and dresses was just a murmur behind their secluded table 

Maggie James hadn’t changed a bit, just matured into a fulfilled version of herself, or so Lexa liked to imagine. She still had deep brown eyes and a heart-shaped face. Still had a soft smile. Her hair was cut shorter now, above the shoulders and wavy. Her demeanor was more assured, more herself, than the unsure girl in college, or even the graduate assistant at a presentation in Prague. 

“I have to say, I hadn’t expected to hear from the CFO of one of the largest companies on the planet after reading my lowly article and research.” 

“I don’t know about lowly,” Lexa smiled after sipping her drink. “I thought it was a good article. And your research was thorough.” 

“I just observe and postulate. Those other companies were the ones doing the hard part.” 

She was naturally demure. Maggie was not someone who had to work for a living. Her family owned an ancient merchant conglomerate and she was vaguely related to a Kennedy and a Duke or something. And though she had her phases, Lexa remembered her from school as someone who wanted to do her own thing. She didn’t cut up her black card, but she sure didn’t care to rely simply by biding her time. Lexa always liked that. 

They hadn’t been especially close, just gravitated to similar circles and were in the same degree program, naturally leading to an affiliation that boarded somewhere between acquaintances who knew too much and friends with no actual ties. 

The real surprise had been when Maggie actually returned the phone call Lexa gave after a few weeks of obsessing over the research and generally annoying her girlfriend with facts and tidbits, filling up a notebook with her own questions, ideas, and things she’d read. She’d garnered a lot of attention with her article and research. It almost wasn’t worth it for her to return the call of a somewhat acquaintances, somewhat friend that she hadn’t seen or heard from in upwards of six years. But Lexa’s last name was on buildings in almost ever major city, and regardless, she got a return call. 

“I did call you about the article, but also to catch up,” Lexa promised. 

“And remember those good times in college?” 

“We did have a few of those, didn’t we?” she grinned, looking over her glass, earning a shaking head and heavy sigh and smile. 

“Much to my girlfriend’s chagrin.” 

“You actually told her some stories?” Maggie raised her eyebrows and chuckled. “And she let you come tonight?” 

“Encouraged it actually. She’s sick of hearing me rave about your work and research. I’m allowed to have an intellectual crush on you, and that’s it.” 

“She’s a saint.” 

“You have no idea,” Lexa agreed and signaled for another round. “Last I heard, you were engaged to some Lockeridge. Didn’t work out?” 

Maggie held up her hand and wiggled an empty ring finger. 

“He didn’t particularly care that I was interested in anything other than the usual marriage retirement activities like kids and needlepoint or whatever.” 

“A shame.” 

“I heard you decided to go outside of the pool or acceptables,” Maggie shrugged. “I only have a few questions: How, and how did your father take it?” 

“You know my dad. He wouldn’t know acceptable if it shook his hand. He actually adores Clarke. And it was sheer luck. She just happened to be best friends with a mechanic I use to fix up old cars.” 

“Kismet.” 

“How did your parent’s take the loss of a Lockeridge hyphenation?” 

“Mom went into full mourning, black outfits for a week and three weeks in Italy,” Maggie recited as Lexa laughed. “Dad complained about his lost deposits on venues.” 

“And now?” 

“Now, I research sustainable and ethical management in corporations.” 

“I meant--”

“I don’t even own a car, so I haven’t run into any mechanics, and I was almost hoping you’d broken up with your saint and that’s why you’d called.”

“It actually our three year anniversary next month.” 

“Disgusting. You’re buying the drinks.” 

They both shared a smile and shook their heads, amused at themselves and the situation of their lives, both wondering how they hadn’t taken the time to be better friends, although a few drunken make outs had certainly ended any hopes of that back then. 

“I’m assuming you want to talk to me about the article and your company?” 

“I was having fun catching up, but I take sex off the table and now you’re all business.” 

“I know your time is valuable, and I don’t want you to think you have to waste it catching up,” she explained, leaving Lexa slightly baffled. 

“Your time is valuable too, and honestly, I am kind of having fun catching up. I kind of fell out with the old gang after Mom.” 

“I heard you did the falling.” 

“Probably,” Lexa nodded in agreement as she swapped out her empty glass for a new one. “I worked myself raw for three years straight.”

“But you still hear some of the rumblings from the old guard?” 

“Some. Care to fill me in on more before I proposition you?” 

“Intellectually?” 

“Strictly.” 

Maggie took a large sip from her drink and eyed the girl across from her, at ease and amused at their conversation, ever charming and wildly sexy without even meaning to do it, Lexa was someone who made her attention feel like nothing else mattered, and anyone would want to be within her company to experience it. All were welcome, but it was a blessing to hold her focus for an extended period of time, in any capacity. Maggie remembered making out with her in the bathroom of a club. She remembered making out with her at a party on the Lower East Side. She remembered Lexa’s messy waves, leather jacket, and fiery eyes that remained, even a decade later. But they weren’t for her anymore, and she was alright with the disappointment if it meant working with her. 

“Did you know Emma Hunton-Blather?” 

“Not biblically.” 

“I wouldn’t imagine so. She’s an ultra-religious mommy blogger now.” 

“Yikes,” Lexa winced. 

“And Francine Christenson already divorced twice.” 

“I think I saw one of those.” 

The evening was easy. The drinks flowed and the two caught up with their previous acquaintances. Lexa was grateful that it was going well considering how nervous she was about approaching an almost stranger. 

The drinks kept coming and before she could talk shop, Lexa was drunk and just enjoyed having fun.

XXXXXXXXX

“I love her.” 

“Oh god, not this again,” Clarke groaned, rolled over, and tugged the pillow with her over her head. 

“Not like I love you. I just am fascinated by her research.” 

“Is that what you call her boobs?” 

“Oh no,” Lexa shook her head, wobbling slightly as she plunked down on the edge of the bed and began awkwardly tugging off her shoes. “I can’t even seen boobs that aren’t yours boobs. I am boob-blind now.”

Despite herself, Clarke smiled at her drunken girlfriend. It wasn’t often that she came out, and when Drunk Lexa did, she often enjoyed it. There wasn’t any jealousy against Maggie James, just that Clarke liked a little more attention than she was getting with this new project. She also wished this old project hadn’t made out with her girlfriend, but that was neither here nor there. She’d feel the same way if Lexa was obsessed with recycling. She’d hate it and vote for global warming to make her stop fixating. 

Before she could finish with her shoes, Lexa flopped backwards, fully clothed and half on the bed. 

“Clarke. Hey, are you sleeping?” 

“No, darling. I’m up.” 

“I wish I’d never made out with Maggie, because I think we could have been have friends.”

“Good. Keep not making out with her and you can be.” 

“Ahhhh,” Lexa pointed at Clarke and laughed before letting her arm fall back down. 

“Plus, you could use more friends.” 

“Nah. I don’t.” 

“You do.” 

Clarke moved, putting the book she’d fallen asleep reading on the night stand and moving her way around the bed to help the pitiful thing that couldn’t get undressed. She stayed at Lexa’s strictly because it meant sloppy drunk needy Lexa. She also expected her about two hours earlier. 

“You need more friends. It’s good to have them.” 

“I have Gus,” Lexa listed, counting on her fingers as her girlfriend tugged off her shoes for her. “And Aden, and Anya, and Dad, and Indra, and um. And Maggie. And, um… uh…” 

“Only one of those are age appropriate, not related to you, and not salaried.” 

“And you! You’re my best friend. Who needs more than that?” 

She didn’t mean to, but Clarke smiled at that as she moved to unbutton Lexa’s shirt, earning a smile and laugh despite already closed eyes. 

“Oh, are you getting me naked, Ms. Griffin? Naughty naughty.” 

“How much did you drink?” 

“A little bit.” 

Clarke just shook her head and pulled Lexa up so she could pull off the shirt. She moves to the pants next, instructing her to lift her butt so she could tug them off. Lexa remained fairly still as Clarke searched for a spare shirt for her to sleep in. 

“Hey, hey, Clarke. Hey,” Lexa called in a whisper. 

“Hm?” 

“You really are my best friend.” 

Clarke smiled, her cheeks growing warm as she slid the shirt over the drunk’s arms and head, careful not to poke an eye or pull hair. Tenderly, she got a rag from the bathroom and wiped her face as best she could, earning almost purrs of contentment with the treatment. 

“Are you ready for me to fuck you?” Lexa ventured, wiggling her eyebrows. “I’ve been thinking about it all night.” 

“You’re drunk.”

“And you’re beautiful.” Clarke pushed her girlfriend’s shoulders so that she fell back in bed easily. “Perfect. You can be on top.” 

“Get under the covers. It’s time for bed.” 

“Fine, but you should know that I am a good lay.” 

“I’m aware,” Clarke grinned as Lexa climbed in obediently. 

“I’m like really good at giving you orgasms. And you seem to like them.” 

“Oh, I do. But I’m tired and you’re drunk.”

“Those are two true facts,” Lexa nodded and yawned, rolling into her usual spot. Her arm was held open until Clarke joined her in bed. 

The lights off and the pair finally ready for bed, Clarke snuggled into her spot and felt Lexa’s warmth, enjoying the feeling of having her back. 

“Hey Lex?” Clarke whispered as arms held her tightly. 

“Change your mind about sex?” Lexa returned. “I’m still down.” 

“No. I just wanted to tell you that you’re my best friend, too.” 

“Good.” 

Her arms pulled tighter and Lexa kissed Clarke’s shoulder before falling into a very contented drunken slumber. 

XXXXXXXXX

Lexa loved her office. She loved that it was quiet and that even though she had taken a smaller role in th day to day operations, it was still there for her to work, uninterrupted and unimpeded. She loved her desk. She loved her view. She loved the certainty that came behind sitting her name plate, as if it told her who she was. There was a certain power that she took from it all. 

“Thanks for coming down,” Lexa offered as Maggie took a seat across from her desk. “I think i forgot to explain what interested me most about your research at drinks the other night.” 

“Yeah I think the fourth round of whisky made it a little difficult to keep track of complex ideas.” 

“I had a good time.” 

“Me too.” 

“My girlfriend let me know that I need more friends. The problem being that I don’t particularly like or trust most people.” 

“Or you’re too busy to put the effort into it. I get it. Trust me,” Maggie nodded, relaxing slightly as Anya brought in some coffee and placed it between them. “Thank you.” 

“I was told that all my friends work for me or are related to me,” Lexa explained as she sipped her coffee. “And even though I would consider us friends, or potentially friends. I want to hire you.” 

“I already have a job.” 

“Yes, but I have lots of money.” 

Maggie snorted at that, smiling, amused at Lexa’s candor. 

“I have lots of money too.” 

“I knew you would say that. I also knew that there wasn’t much I could offer you to sway you away from a fun research and doctoral position at a great university. I’m sure you find teaching rewarding.” 

Lexa stood from her desk and grabbed a folder from the corner, carefully looking it over in her hands. 

“The interesting thing I found in your report was that you were advocating for a system that not one single major corporation would even contemplate putting into existence.” 

“I’m sure some--”

“Free housing? College tuition? Four day work weeks? Work from home? Private insurance? Officer salary cuts? Who in there right mind is going to do that?” 

“I thought you were interested in my research.” 

“I am. Because my job was killing me. And I have a hypothesis for you.”

“I think that’s my job.” 

“You haven’t accepted yet,” Lexa reminded her as she leaned against the front of her desk. “If I implement your suggestions, will I not hate my job anymore?” 

“There’s no way for me to measure that.” 

“True. Will I feel better if we are a more ethical and knowledgeable company?” 

“Yes.” 

“Will we turn a profit?” 

“According to my data, yes. Although the scale of your business,” Maggie shook her head. “I wouldn’t even know where to start hypothesizing on when.” 

“Hypothetically,” Lexa continued, smiling at how easy it was to get her interested. “What would you need to start testing your hypothesis? In real time. At this company.” 

There was a quiet that settled as Maggie stared at the CFO. Long and tall, Lexa crossed her arms over her chest, the mystery folder tucked under her arm. Her shirt was folded precisely up to her elbow, her collar pressed and pointy, her glasses perched perfectly and her hair coiffed with enough effort to look like it wasn’t trying at all. She didn’t betray a thought though. 

“Off the top of my head, I’d need access to everything. I’d need months of internal research and auditing, plus at least a handful of accountants and assistants. I don’t think you understand what you’re asking.” 

“I do.” 

“You can’t.” 

“In this folder,” Lexa grinned, and held it in front of her friend. “Is one of our middling branches based in London. I want to give it to you.” 

“A company?” 

“Kind of. I want you to hire your team. I want you to help me implement your changes. I want to create a better world. I had to think of something that no one else could give you, to entice you. Is it working?” 

“Consider me enticed,” Maggie nodded, slowly accepting the folder and flipping it open, her mouth slightly agape. 

The buzzer on Lexa’s desk sounded and she pushed off, walking back to her chair. 

Ms. Woods, the car is here to take you to the airport. 

“Thanks, Anya. Give me a few more minutes.” 

“Going somewhere?” 

“Three year anniversary weekend,” Lexa smiled. “I had a bit of a rough year last year, but it’s all coming back around.” 

“You are incredibly good at multitasking. You’re pitching me while planning an epic event and doing how many other things.” 

“Take the week to think about it. Everything you need is in that folder.” 

“I’m going to need more than a fifteen minute meeting with yout see if this is even for real.”

“It’s real,” Lexa promised. “We can figure everything else out together, when you accept.” 

“If.” 

“I’ve been told I’m very persuasive. Take the week. I’ll be back next Tuesday and we can talk more then, if you’d like.” 

“I thought maybe a consultation, but this is…” Maggie shook her head and stared at the folder before shutting it quickly. “Hell of a friend.” 

“Come on, I’ll walk with you out,” Lexa offered as she grabbed her bag. 

XXXXXXXXXX

The ranch was still slightly visible in the sunset, the timing only slightly off with their arrival for the romantic weekend escape. Tall pines and cedars eclipsed it while the mountains stood tall and purple in the distance against a firestorm of clouds in the fading summer light. The cabin was one of her favorite places on the planet, and she couldn’t think of anywhere more secluded and perfect to hide away from the world with her beautiful girlfriend to celebrate three absolutely life-changing years. 

“I would have been happy with just a hotel room downtown,” Clarke chided as she entered the giant house. “This is too much.” 

“I figured it was a good excuse to use this place. It’s been years since I’ve been out,” Lexa explained as she dropped their bags in the foyer. 

She made sure everything was stocked and prepared and the staff wouldn’t be around. The caretakers didn’t mind a week off, and she was just excited to be away from the city and back somewhere quiet. 

“Is this the ranch your mom liked?” 

“Yeah, she’d make us spend a lot of spare time out here.” 

“I can see why. It’s beautiful.” 

“She designed it. Found an old hunting lodge and decided to convert it to a modern home. It was her labor of love.” 

“Thank ou,” Clarke smiled and hugged her girlfriend before kissing her cheek. “Show me around.” 

Lexa wasn’t particularly good at feeling so good, but she’d been excited and planned everything for the past month. So she took Clarke by the hand and showed her the grand room, the high ceiling and giant windows that looked out at the trees and the mountains as far as the eye could see. The fireplace was already roaring and inviting, but she took her toward the pool and hot tub area that went from outside to inside. She excitedly told her stories about being a kid, and all the stuff her and Aden would do. 

By the time they made it to the bedroom she wanted, Clarke flopped onto the bed and gave up trying to figure out where she was in the maze of a house. 

“So we get this whole place to ourselves for the next few days?” Clarke asked as Lexa gracefully slid beside her in the giant bed. 

“Mhm, so go ahead and just take your clothes off now. I actually should have told you that at the door.” 

“But I brought very cute lacy things you like me to wear.” 

“Oh, wait, yeah,” Lexa nodded eagerly. “That’s all you can wear.” 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“I’m yours.” 

“And sappy.” 

“Incredibly.” 

But it was perfect, and Lexa didn’t care that her girlfriend was mocking her. She leaned forward and kissed her. She pressed Clarke into the bed and went about the task of celebrating. 

XXXXXXXXXX

“I need you to carb up because I have a few more things planned for you,” Lexa explained as she reached forward and took another slice of pizza. 

“Shut up.” 

“I mean it. Dad keeps the W stored in the garage and I have waited three years to--”

“You can’t be serious,” Clarke laughed and shook her head, pressing her palm over her chest with how amusing she found it. 

They were tangled in the sheets. They were tired and sated and happy and now nearly full from the dinner of pizza and beer. 

“That’s the real reason I decided to come here,” Lexa grinned. “The romantic, candlelight bath and fireplaces, and privacy were all a ruse. You’ve been ruse-d.” 

“I can’t believe I’ve kept you around for three years.” 

“Me neither.” 

“I should get a medal.” 

“I agree completely,” Lexa decided as she hopped up from the bed. “Wait right there.” 

Nearly tripping over herself, the CFO took the corner out of the room so quickly, Clarke was certain she hit the wall. The sound of padding bare feet could be heard in the bed, and for the life of her, Clarke wasn’t sure why it made her fall a little more in love, if that were even possible. 

In a flash, Lexa returned, hopping into the bed, quick to hide whatever was in her hands. 

“This was supposed to be a year of no gifts,” Clarke chided. 

“I’m terrible at following directions. I don’t know if you knew that or not yet, but it’s a harsh truth you should start to understand.” 

“You should listen to me.” 

“I should,” she nodded and held out a velvet box. “I’ll start tomorrow.” 

Clarke eyed her girlfriend warily and frowned at the blatant lie. But Lexa shrugged and smiled, nudging her to open the box. 

“Oh, Lex, this is…”

The keychain was a tiny logo of Lexa’s company. It was plain and simple and cost exactly $2.95, and now it was dangling from Clarke’s finger as she furrowed and smiled at it despite all else because it was certainly not what she was expecting. 

“It’s too much. You shouldn’t have.” 

“You deserve the best,” Lexa explained, scooting closer. “Last time we did this, I wasn’t read. You weren’t ready. It wasn’t right. But now...I think it’s right. I think I want to be with you all of the time. I want to come home from business trips and see you. I want to cook dinner together. I want to sleep with you every night. I want to live together.” 

Her hair was a mess, and when she was nervous, she talked with her hands. Clarke watched the entire thing without moving a muscle, because she might scare Lexa if she did. Instead, she looked at the key chain in her palm and listened. 

“You’ve been making a lot of moves lately, Woods.” 

“Well, the girl I love keeps pushing me to do better.” 

“What if you get sick of me?” 

“I won’t.” 

“What if I get sick of you?” 

“We’ll get a big place, so you can ignore me when I bug you,” Lexa promised. 

“You’re ready for this?” Clarke asked, giving her a hard look. 

“Very. Are you?” 

“Very.” 

Before she could say anything else, Lexa launched herself at her, and Clarke was tackled and kissed happily.

NEXT

[weirdochick56]

Mr. Evans II- Chris Evans AU Chapter Eleven

Teacher!Chris Evans x Student!Reader

Warnings: Explicit language. SMUT. DIRTY DIRTINESS.

Disclaimers: I don’t condone relationships of this kind, this is for entertainment purposes only. Please be gentle on my word-porn.

Word Count: 5, 347 words

A/N: This shit got dirty REAL quick. As I was writing it, I was so fucking confused by what my fingers were typing lmfaoooo. Also this story is nearly coming to an end and IDK what the hell im gonna do after. PLEASE stay safe and healthy y’all! 

Read Chapter Ten here!!

***

(gif isn’t mine!)

You take a long gulp of the bottle.

“It’s like I’m stuck, you know?” You say looking off into the water. “Like I don’t know how to exist or move forward or hell, even back.”

Noah, the guy you’d met at the pool, nods in understanding, taking a sip from the bottle. “Yeah. I get that, but your situation is hella complicated. I get why.”

“I guess I just have never felt one hundred percent in it, you know? Like I could never fully let myself be happy because at any moment that shit could burn down. I’ve always felt like someone was out to get us, like all the fucking odds were stacked against us,” you mumble, shivering when a breeze swishes past the dark night.

It’s been a while since you had met Noah and he was a pretty cool dude. You just clicked- it was just like that with some people you know? You just get along from the get-go. You got to talking, slowly downing the bottle in the process of course and the more time ticked by, the more your tongues loosened.

You didn’t like to play into stereotypes or anything, but you were almost entirely sure Noah wasn’t one-hundred percent straight. But maybe that was just you.

You were at a healthy buzz right now but that wasn’t gonna last long at the rate you were chugging from the bottle.

“You wanna be with him?”

You sigh, hating that there wasn’t even a little doubt in your mind or heart at the question. “I do. But I don’t know how to go about it, you know? It’s all just so jumbled for me.”

Noah releases a little sigh, laying down on the cold gravel. “I know right? It’s like you love someone so much but you also know that being with them could be dangerous, no only to you but to the life you’ve built around yourselves individually. So it’s hard between choosing everyone else or your own selfish ass.”

You glance at him, raising your brows. “From personal experience?”

He laughs but it’s a bit strained- dry. “Yeah. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly uh- straight.”

“What?! I had no idea!” You mock gasp.

“Shut up.” He laughs, slapping your arm playfully. “Yeah well, he’s actually the most beautiful human being I’ve ever met. But we’re keeping it on the dL. Neither of our parents is exactly supportive. Mine are still a bit touchy even though they’re starting to tolerate the fact that their son is gay and his- well they have no idea. If they did that situation would go awry real quick.”

You sigh, laying your head drunkenly on his shoulder. “Aw, I’m so sorry Nini.”

He laughs, casually wrapping an arm around you. “Oh? Is that my new nickname?”

You nod. “Yep.”

“You know something, Nini?” You suddenly mumble in a slur.

“What?”

“You’re not selfish for loving him- whoever he is. You’re brave.”

“Yeah? And why do you say that?” He hums.

You take the bottle from his grasp, taking a long drink. When you’re done, you sluggishly wipe your lips.

“Because I’m a fucking coward,” you mumble shakily. “I’m so fucking scared of feeling. I just shut down like a robot,” you confess, quietly chuckling. “I numb myself so that I don’t have to face the reality of it all. You face that shit head-on. You’re staying and fighting for your love. That’s super admirable.”

Noah rubs your arm comfortingly. “Thanks.”

You nod, swishing your feet in the water. “It’s true. I wish I could just be with him.”

“Then be with him,” Noah says, simply.

Just like that. As if it were that straightforward.

“It’s not that easy. There’s so many things to consider.“

“Let me ask you a question,” he quickly quips. “Do you love him? Like really truly love him?”

You swallow harshly, gripping the bottle tightly in your hands. “With every fiber in my body.”

Noah nods firmly. “Then that’s it. And listen, I’m going to be honest because it sounds like everyone in your life has been lying to you and telling you basically all you need is love to make it work. It’s not. Relationships are hard fucking work. Especially if it’s one people will have a variety of feelings on. It takes effort, time, sacrifice and you know where all that comes from?”

“Where?” You pout drunkenly.

“From you. You have to be sure you want it you have to be willing to stay and fight. But you also need love. Without love, there’s nothing. If you’re sure you want to be with him, if you think your love is worth it, then I say go for it. It doesn’t have to be this huge announcement either. It’s your relationship- it’s there for no one else but you two. If you feel comfortable later on, then do sure you can tell people.”

You ponder on his words drinking more tequila, before finally speaking in a defeated tone. “I’m scared.”

He shrugs. “Life is really just one big risk you either choose to take or not. Plus, it’s like I told you; relationships are hard work. You have to keep working at it. Even when it gets hard.” He licks his lips. “He gave an ultimatum and from what you told me, you’re not going to be here for much longer. So not to pressure you or anything, but if there was ever a time to act this feels like it’s it.”

Maybe he’s right.

*

Needless to say, by the time Noah walks you home, you’re both absolutely hammered. You make sure to call him a taxi because it was late at night and you also make him promise to text you once he got there.

After he’s gone words keep ringing around in your head over and over and over again. And so do Margo’s. In fact, you felt like you were flying on a cloud of thoughts all whirling and detaching and stringing together back again.

You start replaying everything in your head- your whole relationship. From the start to now. Like a movie.

And your heart breaks even more because you realize right there and then that at some point, the movie suddenly stops.

The movie stops.

It hits you that you’ll have no idea how it ends. What’ll happen with you two. Where you’ll end up.

For some odd fucking reason, it makes you feel sick to your stomach to think about it that way, and your skin crawls. If you let him go, you’ll never him know how the movie ends... the thought tortures you slowly to sleep as it goes round and round in your noggin, pounding you with unbearable guilt and anxious thoughts.

When you do fall asleep, though, you have a strange dream that night. Or more like you have a nightmare.

You’re standing in your room and it’s just like it was when you went to sleep that night, except that on the other side, the usual long hallway isn’t there anymore. There’s only darkness.

Your anxiety kicks up because you know what the darkness is without even touching it.

It’s the not-knowing. The pitch-black emptiness which you’re expected to walk into blind. Fucking alone.

You start hyperventilating when the pressure to walk into it becomes too much, thrashing harshly against the invisible force pushing you into it. Screaming, salty tears, kicking...

It’s all too much. Your breathing is labored and your skin burns with hot tears.

And then suddenly and like a warm blanket- two muscular arms wrap around you from behind, tugging you into a hard chest.

Chris, your mind instantly whispers.

He easily tugs you back towards the room, hugging you to his front tightly.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

And in that moment of terror, with his familiar scent and soothing voice and tight embrace, he’s safety. He’s warmth and familiarity.

...he’s home. Your home.

You just lay there with him, holding each other.

The next image flashes by instantly and suddenly the darkness is back. But this time you don’t panic...because Chris is right there with you, holding your hand. And for some reason, you know -you’re one-thousand present sure- he won’t let go.

He rubs his thumb softly over your thumb, looking at you with those alluring blue eyes of his, that soft yet capturing gaze that made you feel all fuzzy.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you. I’m here. I’ll always be here.” He repeats his earlier sentence.

You wipe happy tears. “I’ve got you too.”

He smiles adoringly down at you, smile lines crinkling endearingly at the corners. “I know.”

And without a second’s thought you plunge straight into the darkness.

You gasp loudly, sitting straight up in bed. Your heart races, thumping harshly against your rib cage as beads of sweat trod carefully down your temple and side of your face.

Click.

Something in you suddenly clicks and it all becomes clear. 

Was that all that was needed for realization to hit you? A single moment? A single split second in which the fog clears? A split-second where your vision suddenly elevates and the whole landscape is all there? The whole picture is laid out before you? 

It’s early in the morning and you wince when the bright light of an early day hits you in the face, flopping over in bed.

You reach for your phone on the nightstand, quickly unlocking it before checking your contacts. You have a new text message. You click on it.

Hey, Hermosa. I got home okay. Thanks for the taxi, lol.

You smile gently, typing back.

Yeah np, Nini. Thanks for the advice. Needed it.

Your phone buzzes.

Ngl, kinda shocked we still remember that. Lmfao. Ur welcome tho.

You groan softly into your pillow when your head starts aggressively throbbing.

Sobriety sucks butt.

*

“Honey, are you okay?”

Your dad and Kennedy watch you as you haphazardly stuff your face with bacon and eggs then gulf it all down like a dog- brows raised and jaws slack.

Downing your warm coffee in one go, you get up, pushing the chair back with a loud screech and almost trip running over to the sink to put your dishes inside.

“Yes. I’m good. There’s just something urgent I have to go take care of,” you rush out, leaning down over them and giving each a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“I love you guys!” You yell, already half outside and still pulling on one of your sneakers as you clumsily hopped around.

You slam the door shut, running off as soon as you finish putting on the shoe.

Your head pounds inside your skull even having downed three aspirins and having a warm shower and your breakfast swishes inside your stomach with your harsh sprinting but you don’t stop.

Not until you reach his house.

You don’t think. Just feel. Feel how right this was. You’re done being scared of loving who you love. You had what you had and it was what it was, but what you had was him.

Chris.

All this time, he said you were his light. You were his angel.

But really he was your light. He was your angel.

You needed him just as much as he needed you- if not more.

Fuck everyone else.

This was yours. He was yours and you were his and you were done fighting it. Officially.

You had the realization that before, you’d always been just the tiniest bit reluctant. You subconscious put up your own walls to protect your heart, never fully allowing yourself to work on your relationship, never fully giving your energy to it.

But not anymore. No more walls. Just you. Just you, your love and a foundation for a fresh start.

You were exhausted- not of life or him or of the curveballs it keeps throwing your way. You’re tired of fighting yourself.

That’s the real fight you’ve been having this whole time. With yourself. You’re your own damn enemy. And isn’t that fucking tiring?

But you’re done. 

Knocking loudly on the door, your chest inflated with so many emotions and with adrenaline pumping through your veins, you tug at your short shorts, hating that this was the first thing you saw and threw on.

Unfortunately, the next thing you saw was a short ass crop top so you were basically running around in your underwear.

You freeze out the nerves as soon as they start to set in when footsteps pad your way. None of that.

When Chris opens the door, you nearly fall over.

He gives you a once-over, his hair messy, and dark bags under his eyes. “Sweetheart what-“

You stare at him for a few seconds as does he, eyes wide and lips parted.

“Chris,” you breathe.

But you catch yourself and before you know it, you’re spilling all your damn beans right on his front porch.

You needed to. You had to get this off your chest or you would go absolutely insane.

“Chris before you say anything, I just want to apologize. I’ve been a huge fucking hypocrite. But I realize my mistakes and I-“ you laugh incredulously, looking at him. “I just want to be with you,” you mumble meekly, your voice low. 

Not because you didn’t mean it, but because you were terrified of his reaction. 

His eyes soften and he opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off. 

“No, stop. I just need to finish what I have to say, okay? You were right. You scare me. What we have scares me. But I’m not willing to let you go just because I’m scared. I-” you swallow tears back down. “Being scared isn’t an excuse to let you go. God, I’ve never felt emptier in my life than these past few weeks. Not even when I was gone for two years. At least then I knew I was faraway from you. That I was somewhat safe from all these...feelings.” You gulp. “But being here-“ you shake your head. “Knowing that you’re just a few blocks away- I just want you to hold me, to make love to me, to love me in the way only you know how to.” You chuckle breathlessly. “God, I am so in love with you. Y-you complete me. You make me better- you’re the best fucking person I know. And I know I’ve been an asshole to you, or well let’s be honest we both have, but I guess mostly me- um anyway. I just- I’m here to stay.” You sigh softly, letting the words roll of your tongue like a vow. 

“I’m here to stay,” you repeat softly but firmer this time, swallowing thickly at the sweet after taste.

You’re panting by the time you’re done, both thanks to the running and the little speech you just gave, but your gaze never leaves his. Not for the whole five minutes, he just stands there, looking at you with glimmering eyes.

“Chris?” You whisper.

“Say that again,” he breathes.

“Say what?” You frown.

“Tell me you love me again,” he mumbles, a single tear sliding down his cheek.

You smile a little, looking him in the eye. “I love you. I love you. I love you,” you repeat breathlessly. “I’m here to stay- if you’ll let me that is,” you add on in a clumsy, sheepish way.

He smirks, instantly yanking you into a hug. His arm wraps around your waist and head and your arms slither their way around his broad back. You melt into him, half with delight and half with relief. 

The embrace says all the things you weren’t strong enough to say, it was passionate, warm, loving, fierce. You slid into eachother like to puzzle pieces. Like you were meant to be there- in eachother’s arms. 

Chris holds you tighter to him, using your trembling body, which you hadn’t even noticed was shaking, as an excuse you stuff his nose into your hair and press your chest to his.

“I missed you,” he breathed into you- easy as air. A breath he’d been holding for far too long and needed to release.

A breath that, once uttered, made you instantly freeze. 

You slowly parted away from him so you could properly peer into his eyes and because you have no idea how much being back with him was going to be for you emotionally. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, tears sprouting from your eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just scared. I’m always scared.” 

He shakes his head at you, pressing a light kiss to your forehead. “I get it, sweetheart. I was scared too. But we’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

He holds his arms out again, but catches himself before wrapping them around you and pulling you to him entirely, the question clear in his eyes; was this okay?

This embrace wasn’t like the one a few moments ago, this one was cautious because you were walking new ground. A ground that was undiscovered but all the same exciting. 

A ground that was the foundation for a new path to happiness. A new beginning. 

You simply nod in response, too tired to try to fight your need for his warmth off.

He wastes no time pulling you to his chest- nice and tight and you instantly hug him back, loving the feeling of safety and warmth you felt there.

You realize that no matter where you go or who you’re with, nothing will ever feel like being in his arms. Nothing will ever feel like home. Not like him.

His hold tightens on you- like he’s afraid of letting you go and you tighten your own hold to signify your own heightened emotions. 

The buzzing in your skin, the racing of your heart, the flush of your face, the fluttering of your tummy- all the emotions that made you feel like there was endless hope and warmth and good in the world- you missed it all. 

You listen to his slightly accelerated heartbeat and nestle your head against his chest. “So we fight?”

He heaves a heavy exhale. “We fight.”

You lick your dry lips, taking a deep breath. “Okay.”

He pushes you back slightly, brows raised. “Really?”

You can’t help but smirk a little bit. “I think I still have a little bit more fight left in me.”

*

You shift in his arms, resting your head on his chest an adjusting the leg you’d hastily thrown over his waist.

After your talk, you’d agreed that a little alone time was in order. So you threw yourselves onto his bed and did what anyone in your position -with unspent sexual frustration and endless simmering desire between your souls- would do and cuddled.

“Sweetheart,” he begins, twirling another strand of your hair in between his fingers.

“Hmm?” you mumble drowsily, drawing a new pattern on his chest with your fingertips.

“Do you love me?”

You pause, brows furrowing. Leaning up on your elbow, you peer down at him. “What?”

He smiles a little. “You heard me.”

“Why do you ask?” You blush bright red.

He chuckles, brushing a hand against your cheek. “Well, I’m not like you, angel. I actually need to hear the words. Again,” he adds cheekily.

You stare at him blankly for a few seconds, contemplating his face. He was perfect. Even the small dips or indents on his skin. Every sharp and soft line, every curve and dip and area of soft flesh.

Beneath you, his muscles strained against his soft pajamas and his warmth surpassed layers of skin and clothing in order to deep into your bones, warming you entirely.

But that wasn’t what made him beautiful. No. 

It was the fact that he was such a dork when it came to Charlotte Brontë and Bram Stroker even when he tried to hide it. It was the fact that for years he put aside his own pain to focus on the futures of his students. The pain of losing his wife.

It was that he looked at you like you were his beginning and his end and everything in between. It was the fact that he was unwilling to relent to everyone and everything telling him he couldn’t have you and that he was willing to forgive you. 

It was that he was still here. Still fighting even when everything could be lost.

He wasn’t just perfect. He was authentic. And he was beautiful just the way he was.

You finally nod, whispering lightly. “I do. I love you more than anything in the world.”

You’ve never meant anything more in your life. And it didn’t matter what would happen next because you’d be together when it happen and you’d take it on together. You’d always have eachother.

He beams adoringly, running his hands through his hair.

You instantly raise a brow. “What?”

He frowns at you. “What?”

You chuckle, a tiny smirk tugging at your lips. “Something’s wrong. What is it?”

“Wrong? Nothing is wrong. Why does something have to be wrong?”

You instantly smile, patting his cheek as you hook your leg over him tighter in order to get more comfortable. “You just ran a hand through your hair; something’s definitely wrong,” you say as if it’s obvious before softening. “C’mon talk to me.”

He looks into your questioning eyes for exactly three seconds before breaking. “Dammit, why do your eyes have to be so big and…shiny? I can never lie to them,” he mumbles under his breath.  

You laugh pressing a little kiss to his stubbled cheek. “It’s my secret superpower. Now; spill.”

He sighs, looking down at his hands. “Nothing I guess I’m kind of second-guessing now. N-not of us o-or anything!” He rushes to explain immediately after. “Just-” he sighs again, looking back down. “I dunno. I feel like I’ve been pressuring you. What if this isn’t what you really want?” He gazes into your eyes, concern swimming in his deep pools. “Is it?”

Unable to hold back a snicker you grin lightly at him. “I just gave you an entire speech about how much I want to be with you and you’re questioning it? Bit late, don’t you think?” You joke lightly.

He deadpans. “Y/n.” 

You sigh. “Yes, it is what I want. No backing out this time.” You hold out your pinky with a tiny giggle. “Pinky promise?”

He raises a brow at the small finger, scoffing at the notion. “Angel, I’m a masculine manly-man do you really think that I’m gonna pinky promise you? No.”

You wiggle your pinky with a tiny pout. “C’mon!” 

 He sternly peers down at you (again for exactly three seconds) before breaking down once more, half-heartedly linking your pinky with his and grumbling for a second time about how your eyes were “unfairly adorable”.

You laugh tightening your finger on his, as you gaze into each other’s eyes tenderly. “I pinky promise to always be with you. No matter what.”

He smiles softly, repeating your words back to you with the tenderest look in his eye. “I pinky promise to always be with you. No matter what.”

When you take your pinkie back, he rolls his eyes, chuckling. “I can’t believe you made me do that. I hate you.”

Lightly shoving his shoulder, you place a soft peck on his cheek. “You know you love me. Plus, c’mon, I came looking for you here, I can’t leave without at least a pinky promise.” 

He smirks, wiggling his brows suggestively. “You do realize this means I won, right?”

“Won?” 

He nods enthusiastically. “Yeah. This time, you came for me. So I won.”

You snort. “Asshole.”

He chuckles as you suddenly grow serious.

“You know, I hate that you know me better than I know myself. I can never hide from you,” you whisper as he grips your face with his hand.

“You don’t have to,” he says sincerely, looking directly at you. His dark gaze pierced your soul and your breath hitches, forming a huge lump on your throat. “Not from me. Not ever.”

You shiver under his touch, leaning into him. You bite your lip as you gaze at him from under your lashes. “What if what I’m trying to hide is ugly?” You husk.

He simply smiles, like what you’re saying is utterly impossible. “Then you don’t try to hide it. I want to see it all. Because you know what? In the end, I know it’s all going to be beautiful.”

You can’t keep the damn goofy smile from tugging at your lips as you softly kiss his nose. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” you breathe. “I love you so fucking much.”

He pecks your cheek lightly in response, resting his forehead on yours. 

“Who are we without scars, without stories to tell? Your flaws make you who you are, angel. And I’ve fallen in love with you. All of you.”

You smile softly at him, your heart thumping loudly inside your chest. “You make me all crazy, you know that?” you mumble.

He laughs, closing the distance between you two and brushing his lashes against yours. “I’m sorry.”

You giggle against his lips, softly moving yours against them as you peer into his darkened eyes and wide blown pupils. “No, you’re not.”

He rubs his thumb across your cheekbone tenderly, tracing your skin like he was afraid you’d break if he pressed too hard or rubbed too much.

“You’re right- I’m not,” he breathes hotly against your skin, playing with your lower lip.

You press your nose to his, pressure building in your chest as you slowly begin straddling him. “Do you want me?”

His other hands grips your other cheek, gaze pinning yours down with ease. “All the damn time,” he responds without hesitation, voice growing deeper and more primitive.

You smirk down at him, forgetting entirely about everything and everyone else.

“Really?”

He looks at you incredulously. “Are you serious? How do you not know what you do to me, sweetheart?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I don’t. What do I do to you, Chris?”

Your pussy begins pulsating rhythmically, panties damp at the implication.

He inhales sharply, clamping down on that plump lip. “Shit sweetheart. You want details?”

He seemed startled but turned on all the same.

You bite your lip, feeling your nipples harden under the soft fabric of the shirt and nearly let a moan slip when it rubs against the sensitive nubs as you move.

“Yes. I want you to tell me exactly how much you want me. I want you to tell me how you’ve imagined me before. What you’d do to me if you’re given the chance,” you rasp all in one breath.

As you speak, you grind your down hips on his, enjoying the much-needed friction it created in your sensitive spot.

He clenches his jaw, eyes ablaze with that fire you missed so much.

“Careful sweetheart,” he grits out through clenched teeth, hands dropping to your ass and hips. “If you get too close I might burn you.”

You look him in the eye, knowing damn well your own unquenchable fire was swaying sensually back and forth in your eyes. You wanted him—bad. In fact, you fucking needed him. You needed him like you needed air to breathe. Fuck, you ached for the feeling of his cock inside you, claiming you as his. Because damn you were his.

“Then burn me,” you say with full intent.

His eyes snap shut, fingers digging into your flesh.

“Jesus Christ, Y/n. If we don’t stop right now I can’t promise I won’t fuck you ‘til you’re screaming.”

Your pussy instantly grows wet at his words, pulsating far more aggressively than before as you move your hips faster.

“Fuck Chris. Have you dreamed about me?” You pant.

He looks up at you through heavy-lidded eyes, dick stirring in his pants. “Almost every night,” he admits without shame or hell- even embarrassment.

Than only makes you more flushed.

You lick your dry lips, his eyes following the movement. “Yeah? And what am I wearing?”

He closes his eyes, hands traveling down to your thighs before rising gradually up to your waist, pushing fabric out of the way. You tremble beneath his fingertips and he uses the chance to guide your movements against him, his long fingers setting a rhythm for you to move to.

He hisses with pleasure. “Y-you’re wearing my t-shirt. Only with panties underneath.”

You inhale deeply, chest rising but not falling just yet at the vivid image. “Mhm,” you hum softly. “And where are we?”

“My bedroom. You’re sprawled out on my bed, sleeping.”

You bite your lip. “Are you hard yet?”

“Hell yes,” he breathes, digging his nails into your ass. “I can see your ass from here. All of that for me,” he moans softly against your chest as he adjusts you and his grip on you so your tits are closer to his face.

You arch back at the sensation of having his hard cock rubbing against you from beneath his pants.

“You’re moving around in your sleep and I’m getting harder because you look so damn innocent but sexy all at once. Like you’re just asking me to ruin you.”

You moan against him, accidentally brushing your nipple against his lips in the frenzy of your dry humping.

You freeze for a second, letting the sensation sink into your cells, warming them with electrifying bliss before moaning louder when Chris lightly opens his mouth to take one of them in over the thin material of the shirt.

Your mouth falls open at the sensation and your finger rake through his hair, tugging on the strands harshly as he gently suckles on the sensitive bud, rolling his tongue around it with expert sensuality.

His eyes meet yours as he does this and neither of your looks away as he flicks his tongue back and forth, causing your whole body to nearly overload with bliss.

“Fuck Chris,” you mewl, digging out nails into his scalp.

He stops sucking, using his finger to play with them instead. Your mouth falls open in a choked-up scream as he continues narrating his dirty dream for you.

“Even from there I can see how soft your skin is. How perfect your tits are and how good they’d fit in my hands. It’s torture until I walk over to you and grab one of your ankles gently in my hands…”

“Yes?” Your breath hitches as he hits a sensitive spot.

“And the other one too. Then I slowly part them. I don’t want to wake you yet. Not like that.”

You bite your lip, holding back a moan.

“When I’ve completely opened your legs, I slowly crawl up your body, kissing your legs as I go. When I reach your inner thighs, I slowly lift my shirt up….” he trails off, his thumb softly grazing your sensitive nub.

Your head flies back at the sudden jolt of pleasure it sends up your spine. “Shit Chris,” you groan.

“I start leaving open-mouthed kisses all over your soft skin. You’re shifting in your sleep, growing wetter, but you still haven’t woken up. Finally, I kiss your pussy.”

At the words coming out of his sinfully soft mouth, you feel your stomach clench, mouth capturing a silent scream and swallowing it back down.

He keeps you moving against him, his fingers gripping your thigh and his thumb working soft circles into your now soaked panties.

You gyrate into his hand rhythmically, fully concentrated in how good he felt.

“Uh-huh,” you finally grit out.

He continues speaking, voice strained and tone nearly drowned out entirely by animalistic frenzy. “You slowly peel your eyes open as I’ve begun flicking my tongue over your clit back and forth.” He copies the motion he describes with his thumb, smirking viciously when you nearly fall over him.

“I’ve been doing it over your sheer lace underwear this whole time, but when you are finally awake, your smell and your taste become too much for me to handle. You intoxicate all my senses sweetheart. I just want you on my tongue. I want you to ride my face until you cum in my mouth.”

And that’s all he needs to add to his jerky thumb movements for you to cum. Hard.

As if he can sense that you’ve reached a climax, he watches you with hunger, drinking in the sight of you coming all for him. “That’s right, sweetheart. Cum for me. All for me. Fuck, Y/n.”

You convulse, cursing like a damn sailor into his mouth. “Fuuuuck Chris!”

When you’re done, you slouch against him.

He hugs you to him and the rumble of his laughter travels through you, causing your sensitive insides to tremble. “You okay, sweetheart?”

You lift your head carefully. “Yes.”

He smiles. “Good. Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“I want to make love to you.”

“Oh.”

Read Chapter Twelve here!!

***

The flashbacks to Mr. Evans I are real. Omfg. 

I’m literally in love with him.

A special thanks to:

@star-spangled-steve

@tomoyaevaans

@pepsicola-is-my-brand-man​

@whereeverythingisbetter​

@fallenoutofrose

@plutonium-m

@beepbeepromanoff

@faithmichaluk

@sincerelytlh

@tomshelbystits

@kind-sober-fullydressed

@emmarogers222

@sashimi-cat

@zofty15

@gemgemswift

@fafulous

@chljmntgy

@thatssograce

@leclerc-stan

@colddsalsa

@evansislife

@chris-butt

@captainchrisstan

@marvels-gurl

@davestridersrightnipple

@agirlcanstilldream

@notbexmader

@ib-ebe

@byrogers

@theangrylizard

@oh-hey-janina

@mannatgalhotra​

And My forevers!

@jessikared97​

@ladyofletters67​

@lilypalmer1987​

@sammykb1994​

@tomshelbystits​

[iwillsithereandtrytocontribute]

Lost in the Wrong Story

Uh-oh It's the Trash Man

Masterlist Last Next Ao3

~ A collaboration with @hitmewiththatfanart33 ~

Summary: Roman can’t run from his problems forever.

Roman hit the ground running. Surely if he ran with no particular direction they couldn’t find him, right? He dashed between trees and jumped over roots, taking some small comfort in the repetition of the sound of his boots hitting the ground. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was, for he didn’t remember consciously making this world, and most of the Disney movies he grew up watching had trees in them. Though not many trees looked like this: all twisted and curled, ferns and other various jungle-looking flora littering the floor. No, these woods were far from something out of a Disney movie. They had an eerie feeling to them, and the chirps and calls of unfamiliar bugs and night creatures set him on edge.

     “Why are you being so difficult?” a nasaly voice droned. Roman flinched, whipping around in a circle to find the source, and his heart only beat faster when some sort of wispy green fog menacingly circled him. It was so cold; colder than the already-freezing night-time air. However, that wasn’t why he trembled.

     The fog curled and condensed right before his face to form the disembodied head of a large green cat-looking thing, smiling at him crookedly with large, sharp fangs… The Cheshire Cat from Tim Burton’s adaptation of Alice in Wonderland… 

     Remus.

     He should’ve known from the second he stepped foot in this world that this wasn’t his creation like all the other places had been. “It’s none of your business,” he snarled, “Go away.” He tried to get around him so that he could leave, but the floating head only followed his movement.

     “Oh, but it is.” A set of paws took shape, and Remus rested his chin on them with an aggravating look of amusement. “You’re in my world if you couldn’t tell. And I had one hell of a time creating it.” He tilted his head side to side with each word for emphasis. “Whatever happened to making room for new stuff by getting rid of the old?” Remus complained.

     The last thing Roman needed right now was to play cat-and-mouse with his brother, so he turned around and began running, hoping to get enough momentum to hop worlds again, though it would be challenging considering this wasn’t his world and was thus less easy to manipulate. He barely got ten feet before a fully-formed cat was suddenly pouncing on him, pinning his back to the ground. “My world,” Remus repeated with a viscous hiss. “Meaning you’re going to listen.” He could feel Remus’ rancid breath against his face, and the terror that he would bite his head off at any given minute overwhelmed him.

     Roman said nothing, too busy teetering on the verge of hyperventilation. “Now… What is your fucking problem?”

     And in response to the exhaustion, the heartache, the stress, and the fear… Roman’s wide eyes welled up with stinging tears, and he began to cry. Remus looked incredibly uncomfortable. Great. Even his own brother didn’t know what to do with him. The new addition of Roman’s pitiful blubbering noises and the way he squeezed his eyes shut tight to make the world go away seemed to shake Remus out of his surprise, and the heavy weight on his chest suddenly felt less concentrated and more… human. “Hey, hey, hey… I’m sorry I scared you, I just thought you were going for a Disney theme, so I added my own twist to it… Good old Tim Burton, you know? It’s pretty much the only thing we can both sit through without killing each other.” Remus sounded like someone who had no experience with children trying to comfort a screaming baby.

     Roman slowly blinked his eyes open. Remus was still sitting on his stomach, which wasn’t the most comfortable— cat or human— and he looked down at his face worriedly. “Get off me. I can hardly breathe,” he complained. Remus quickly complied, sitting back on his heels to the side of him, offering a hand to help him sit up.

     Once he was upright, he stayed quiet a moment, resting his elbows on his knees. Then he spoke. “I’m a handful, okay? They don’t deserve to have to deal with that, so I just thought that maybe coming to the place where I’m in control and people will still love me even when I make a mistake was what was best for everyone. Nobody was supposed to come after me. None of this was supposed to happen.” He sniffled and angrily wiped at his tears.

     “Everyone with a brain is a handful, you blood clot. They obviously love you anyways, or else they would’ve ditched you a long time ago,” Remus said, trying to cheer him up.

     “They have,” Roman said quietly.

     “What? No, I was just with them.” 

     “That’s not what I meant… Patton just disappeared for several months one time after Christmas. He didn’t even say goodbye, and I needed him. Then I almost caused Virgil to leave completely, Logan left when I was upset over that one breakup, and… Janus hasn’t left me yet. He hasn’t been around long, but I think I just gave him a pretty good reason to.” This felt cathartic. Like he’d been in an uneasy or heightened state for so long that he forgot what it felt like to just be empty. 

     Remus chewed on his lip, cocking his head, and his next words sounded forced, but he meant well. “They need you too…” Roman barely caught him muttering ‘those useless infants’ under his breath, and he almost snorted. “Did you ever try to go after Patton?”

     “No,” he admitted, guilt stirring up in his stomach. 

     “Weren’t you also the reason Virgil came back? And isn’t Janus still looking for you somewhere in this jumbled mess of yours? Sounds to me like you’re just being an idiot,” Remus said with a shrug. Somehow his careless, goofy way of going about things calmed Roman down more than anything else could. 

     “I guess.”

     “I’m really not the one you should be talking to. All I’m good for is butt jokes,” he said, not entirely incorrectly. Roman chuckled a little. 

     Remus sighed. “Virgil’s no stranger to running away to brood; he’d be way better at this than me.” Then he turned his head, eyes wide with sudden thought. “He needs a nickname for that specifically. Hmm…” 

    He snapped. “Got it: Forest Whump,” he announced proudly, “Contains running and angst.”

     Then Roman was truly cracking up. It was pretty funny, and the thought of late night Tim Burton movie marathons and stealing each other’s clothes suddenly made Roman miss his stormcloud more than words could describe, so maybe Remus was right. “Yeah,” he said fondly. “I guess I really messed up.”

     “Yep!” Remus trilled gleefully.

     Roman nodded. “Thank you, brother.”

     “No prob, Bob!” Remus faded away, leaving just his deranged, but somewhat well-meaning smile before even that disappeared.

     When Roman hopped worlds he landed in yet another forest. Free from Remus’ influence, it felt a lot more familiar, like an old friend. He was fairly sure what fairytale he was in, (he had to be, he’d created the world after all), he just didn’t know where in it he was. He ran until he reached the cottage, exactly where he had instinctually known it would be. Then he walked upstairs, pushing two of the undersized beds together in the corner to form one large enough to sit comfortably on, wondering what to do while he waited on Virgil to inevitably show up. After all, the others seemed to find him no matter what he did. They practically fell into his lap. 

     So he waited. 

     And he waited…

     The isolated silence began to weigh on his mental state. 

     Suddenly, where he had originally felt calmed by his conversation with Remus, all sorts of conflicted feelings began to arise. Roman knew Remus was trying to help, and for a while his words did make him feel better... until he started really thinking about what he’d said, that was. When Patton disappeared for months, he did nothing. When Logan felt ostracized during the courtroom trial, he had said nothing. Hell, he had been happy to have Virgil gone… at first. 

     Patton must still resent him for never coming for him. Is that why he never paid any mind to Roman’s absences? Was it payback? Did Logan still loathe him for abandoning their college diploma to be a YouTuber? What about Virgil? He couldn’t count how many times he’d been flat-out cruel to him. And with Janus, when he had first told them his name, he’d laughed at him just like he had with Virgil and treated him like a villain just because of his own conflicting emotions. 

     Now he’d left them who knows where in the Imagination. 

     “Roman, just come home with me.”

     “I just missed you so much it hurt.”

     “You need to come home.”

     “Roman, this isn’t funny. Come out.”

     “Where is Patton?”

     “Roman!”

     “Why are you being so difficult?”

     “Roman!”

     “Now… What is your fucking problem?”

     “Roman!”

     He gasped brokenly, pressing a hand to his mouth as the tears began freely falling one after the other onto his lap, and it felt as if every atom making him up trembled. His prince uniform slowly phased into black sweatpants and his favorite red hoodie so that they could hold him together when he couldn’t. He curled into himself. 

     Would they even want him back given everything he’d done and continued to do? If they found him would they just try to let him down easy? This and more swirled around Roman’s head relentlessly, and no matter how many times he wiped his eyes, they were quickly replenished. 

***

     Virgil walked straight into a tree as he entered the Imagination. He stumbled back, expecting Janus to catch him, and instead fell to the ground. Right as he was about to shoot a teasing remark at Janus, Virgil realized he wasn’t there. Neither were Logan and Remus. He stood up and turned in a frantic circle. “Very funny guys. Come out Remus, you bitch.” No response other than the wind rustling through the leaves. Virgil laughed nervously. “You’ve had your fun. Come on.” Nothing.

     He was in the middle of the woods with no way of knowing how to get out or find help, and they weren’t here with him. 

     He fumbled around to find his hoodie to calm his rapidly increasing panic and felt nothing. A glance down at himself had him on the verge of laughing hysterically, for he was wearing a rich purple dress that nearly reached the ground. He felt behind his back and found, to his relief, a hood, so at least Roman wasn’t completely cruel. Sure the tight laces were hell, as were the sleeves that reached down to his legs, but as long as he could smoother himself in fabric, he could calm down. He tried to remember the exercises Logan had taught him: 4-7-8 and counting with all of his senses. Eventually, his breathing slowed and he removed his hood.

     The world seemed a little less scary now. He’d noticed birds chirping amongst the treetops, the sun filtered down nicely, and he was sure that whatever reason he had been brought here was important. 

    He was sitting on the ground, back pressed up against a tree, though he couldn’t quite remember doing that. He stood up, trying to get a sense of his surroundings. For one, he was in a forest— wow great job, Virgil. Figure that one out all by yourself?— and secondly… Well, he had nothing. Just trees. Looks like he was picking a direction and going with it in the hopes he’d find Roman… somehow.

     He hadn’t been walking very long when he spotted a vaguely familiar cottage. It wasn’t big enough to be from Sleeping Beauty, so… Really? Snow White? Was this because I said I liked the Evil Queen’s aesthetic once? He shrugged and pushed the door open. That was when he heard someone upstairs, and for a moment he felt relieved to not have to be alone, but that quickly changed when he realized whoever it was was crying. His eyes went wide. 

     Roman.

     Virgil dashed up the stairs as fast as his gown would let him, practically throwing open the door, and he nearly cried upon seeing the person he’d been looking for. “Roman!” Virgil called out. Roman looked up from where he was bunched up on the bed. Virgil moved over to the bed to try and hug him, but Roman shrugged him off. “Roman?”

     This wasn’t like him. This was bad. 

     “Why won’t you leave me alone?” Roman whimpered quietly, fresh tears running down his face. “I just want to be left alone.”

     “Roman, what are you talking about?” Virgil sat next to him, but Roman scooted away and put his face back down to his knees. 

     “I get it!” Roman said loudly out of nowhere. “You’re all just the nicest people in the fucking world and you’re just trying to let me down easy. Just leave me alone!” The window next to them shattered.

     “Roman. Roman, listen to me.” Virgil tried to keep his voice steady. As much as he wanted to hug Roman, he knew that when he was feeling this way he hated being touched, so he kept his distance. “This is all in your head. Trust me, as the literal personification of anxiety, I should know. You’re lying to yourself.” 

     Roman turned his back to him, facing the headboard that rested against the wall to the left of the window, his breath coming in heavier and more panicked. 

     “You don’t know that!”

     “I do. I swear I do.” Virgil was crying now. Roman was scaring him, and everything in Virgil cried out to ease the insurmountable amount of pain he was in. The wind roared through the broken window, sending pillows and sheets flying. He longed to run and hide until this was all over, but that other, stronger part of him prevailed. He was essentially Thomas’ fight or flight instinct, and he was determined to fight for Roman.

     “I… do.” Everything in the room became crystal clear to Virgil in that moment. His eyes settled on a single shiny red apple just past the bedpost, still among the spinning wreckage that threatened to cut his skin to ribbons. Not a thing touched him when he stood, walking a path to the fruit, and when he reached it there was no going back. 

     He had to have it. 

     As if in a trance, his lithe, pale fingers wrapped around its round form. 

     He pressed his mouth against it.

     “Virgil?”

     Then its sweet juice was filling his mouth. 

***

     Roman’s brow furrowed against his knees as he heard Virgil trail off then fall silent. He brought his head up with a soft, “Virgil?” and when there was no response he turned around on the bed out of curiosity, only to freeze in horror at what he saw. He swore all the breath left his lungs. 

     It was too late. 

     Virgil’s teeth were already sinking into it, and Roman felt helpless as he watched in shock, the bedding and glass crashing down around them. 

      The next thing to hit the ground was the apple, a sort of dull thud against the wooden floor, then Virgil came down with it, and with a sickening gasp, Roman lunged. Yet again, it was too late. The sound of Virgil’s head hitting the ground echoed throughout the cottage.

     “No. No, no, no, no, no.” Roman repeated that single word over and over again, dropping to his knees and scooping Virgil’s limp form up into his lap. 

     This was his fault. His fault, his fault, his fault. He was supposed to be the hero. But he wasn’t a hero. He was a coward, running away, always making the wrong choice and hurting the people he loved, and it wasn’t like Virgil was the first victim of his recklessness. How could they love someone like that?

     The truth was… they couldn’t, but he had to try. 

     Hurriedly, he kissed Virgil, begging for that true love’s kiss he always believed in to break the curse that he’d unwittingly set in motion through his anger. Nothing happened. He tried again and again, but Virgil didn’t wake up. Didn’t breathe. “Virgil! Virgil please wake up!” Roman shook him, but his head only lolled. “Virgil, wake up. Please. Please.” Roman dissolved into tears, hugging Virgil close, rocking back and forth. He’d known all along that he wasn’t Virgil’s true love, but finding out by putting Virgil into a curse he couldn’t break was by far the worst way to have done so.

     Minutes passed by with Roman desperately clinging to the one he loved. 

     In those eternal minutes, Virgil didn’t move, and where Roman had once been able to warm him up, his skin stayed as cold as porcelain. The only thing that kept Roman from giving up entirely was the fact that there was still a steady pulse to be felt in his neck beneath the cold, lifeless guise the curse blanketed him in. He gave him one last squeeze and firmly pressed their foreheads together. 

     Roman carefully lifted Virgil onto the bed, only now noticing how breathtaking he would have been in the long, draping fabric and rich purple were he still awake, and he crossed his arms before wiping the tears from his face. He even conjured a bouquet of white poppies to place in Virgil’s clasped hands. The simple conjuring took every ounce of his willpower and energy, and he sobbed his heart out all the while. Then he pressed one final kiss to Virgil’s forehead with a vain hope that this kiss would somehow work. 

     “I’ll make this right. I swear.” 

     He had to find Janus.

Fun fact! White poppies symbolize eternal sleep, oblivion, imagination, consolation, dreams, and peace. Yes, I did in fact spend 10 minutes looking up the meanings of various plants.

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@cuter-on-the-inside @abbyisconfused @n4o5r7a9 @omni-hamiltrash   @fandomsofrandom @t0astyt0es @withspaces @anyelram841 @yep-another-fander @strangecreatureyoucantidentify @fandom-trash-304 @chelsvans @nomejodasb @iampengwing @neonb-fly @analogical-mess @midnight-tragedyy @idosanderssidespromptssometimes @athenashipsthings @thgjclw @littleladynightshade @casuallyimpossibledream @hekking-happy-nonsense @comicsimpson @slutforketchup @sandersidess @i-need-you-buddy @witchyvirgil @ghosttb0y @pixelatedrose @emilightniing @csi-baker-street-babes @iwillsithereandtrytocontribute @spooky-scary-virgil @justanothernerdyfandomblog @phantomfantasize @panicattheeveywhere @hedgiehoggles @i-really-like-dragons @youre-lazy-and-youre-gay0-0 @crabsncrabs @gattonero17 @dragonleesupporter @lokiamorstuffs @emo--nightmaree @anotherbisexualbooklover @7-slights-at-virgil @romanvirgil @croftersjam15 @underthesea73

[ashleyswrittenwords]

The Queen’s Tournament III

A ZeLink Fanfiction (Part Three of Three)

(Art by the wonderful @ramibriidge)

Summary: Princess Zelda is ready for her coronation. Her court, however, is not. In an effort for a King, the ministers pressure the crown princess into agreeing to marry whoever champions in a tournament any man in the kingdom can participate in.

Note: I’m so crazy happy that this little story gained so much traction! You all are so nice and I’m truly indebted to you all. In the future, I’ll have a bunch of other cute little fics like this one - so please follow! I also am continuing How to be a Queen, my very long ZeLink fic. She’s my baby. 

The Queen’s Tournament

The sun was just as relentless as it had been the days prior. This time, however, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky to give momentary reprieve. Zelda wondered if the masking spells also staved off the sun’s assault. The princess was never the one to tan, but she hadn’t had an issue up until now. The present problem was the excessive sweat already dripping from Yoland’s forehead as the announcer rattled off rules that her attention span couldn’t afford.

There were three others in the open space. Lord Ganondorf was sizing up his decided opponent across from him, a man whose name slipped her mind. He was a sword smith for the castle armory, she remembered vaguely. She tried to recall where else she had seen his face, but the blue eyes from across the way burned holes through her. In an attempt to release nervous energy, she thumbed at the cuff of her sleeve and diverted her gaze to the ground.

Yoland hadn’t had the opportunity of speaking with Link this morning. Each contender was escorted to opposite entrances of the theater and ever since the awkward reintroductions were being said, the hero hadn’t stopped glaring at her. Even from so far away, the energy he directed at Yoland was beyond unwelcoming – it was borderline obsessive. Zelda racked her brain for reasons why but came up short. There was some semblance of camaraderie yesterday when Link took the liberty of distracting Ganondorf. Even their brief exchange was amiable. Link had even smiled!

And a different encounter the night before… well, it hadn’t stopped plaguing her mind. The memory had slipped its way under her skin and to the very depths of her mind. Each time she closed her eyes to sleep that night she could only see the way he looked at her – wanting, needing, but unable to verbalize it.

But now it was as if that hadn’t occurred.

Dark brows drew towards each other. Maybe it was a guy thing? Something that Zelda couldn’t understand despite looking like one. That only worried her more.

Her attention drew to the choice of weapons that were laid in the center of the arena. She had already made up her mind of what to choose: The thin longsword in the middle. It looked light enough for her build, but long enough for a decent reach. It was also a weapon she had the most experience with. Lord Ganondorf would probably pick the Desert Saber – a long curved blade with a thick guard at the base. The blacksmith would probably choose a similar weapon with his stature being just as bulky as the lord.

“Gentlemen!” A deep yell echoed off the walls, “Thirty seconds!”

The unsuspected announcement jolted Zelda and her heart pounded in her chest as a group of women shouted her alias behind her. Then, the voice counted from ten.

Seven…

Five…

Three…

Two…

One…

Yoland lept off his back foot and sprinted forward. Wind rushed past his ears and the only sounds were of his heart and the dull yells from the stands. Sweat meshed with the leather gloves as a hand wrapped around the handle of the chosen blade. Yet, the sword wouldn’t rise from the clay. For a short moment, Zelda peered upward to see why she was suddenly shaded from the sun. Then, an elbow collided to the side of her head.

It happened in a split second, and the motion of her jerking brought the blade loose from under Link’s boot. She stumbled to her feet and struggled to steady her gaze. Link was parrying an onslaught from the Gerudo politician and to her left the blacksmith was making his way to her. The events caught up to her and she readied her stance, parting her feet evenly on the ground.

Before the man reached her, Ganondorf rushed him and barely gave Yoland a second glance. Rushed footsteps sounded off towards her and Yoland raised his blade just as Link crashed his own down. The sudden pressure on the thin metal made the smaller man sway, but he rebounded quickly.

Link moved wordlessly, but vigilant. It barely gave Zelda space to collect her thoughts because she was so preoccupied with watching his feet. With each step and slide, she flashbacked to their training and used his actions against him. The hero slowly grew frustrated with the little show of progress and bared harder into a slash towards Yoland who gritted his teeth in surprise. The tip of the blade cut into the navy fabric of the tunic and Zelda knew she needed distance. Link could easily overpower her with such a heavy-weighted sword in this proximity. All he needed was to corner her.

Therefore, she took the moment to double back.

A cry rang out and the stands were shouting something that she couldn’t make out. It had apparently drew Link in as well as he lowered his weapon slightly to look over at the other two fighters.

Ganondorf had cut deeply into the arm of the blacksmith, who had dropped his weapon in pain. Blood ran down his arm and he screamed out again at the sight. Zelda looked between Link and the man for a moment, question invading her features. The only way for someone to drop out of the sparring was to admit surrender.

The lord was looking annoyed and stepped towards him. With the butt of his guard he brought it sharply upon the blacksmith’s crown and the man crumbled like a corpse. Yoland gasped involuntarily.

With dark eyes wide with alarm, Yoland turned towards his opponent, “He’s going to kill him.”

Link had almost turned his head to negate the statement, but as the Lord picked up the man’s head by his hair with the sword in his grasp there was a shout.

“Ganondorf, stop!” It was Link. His brow was creased and his defensive body language towards Yoland dropped to face the Gerudo man who was now looking irritated at the interruption. “You’re not to kill him!”

“And what’s to stop me?” The man grimaced.

This time, Yoland spoke. “He has obviously surrendered.”

Ganondorf tilted his head to the side. As a taunting motion, he leaned down to the blacksmith as if he were listening intently. “I’m afraid he has nothing to say!”

Link looked at Yoland, a glint in his eye. In that short moment, an unspoken agreement was made. They’d take care of their business with each other after this immediate threat was dealt with. Yoland gave a short nod before addressing the aristocrat again, “I won’t let you harm him again.”

The Gerudo snorted, “You? The hero wannabe I could understand, but you? Pathetic.” Yoland winced as the unconscious body of the blacksmith crashed into the ground once more. He approached slowly, wiping the thick blood from the peak of the blade. Lord Ganondorf was a large man in both stature and demeanor. Even the few armored men that stood at the entrance closest to them waited idly. Again, Link met his eyes and he motioned towards the group. If they could disarm or incapacitate Ganondorf, they’ll interfere. But until then…

Ganondorf sauntered over, leering at the two smaller men. His yellow eyes intensified under the sun and Yoland narrowed his eyes. “Don’t look so fearful. Aren’t you the man that could cross realms? How has life been like since giving up that Master Sword for the cozy retirement life of being the princess’s lapdog?”

Link was the first to make a move. His sword harshly met the politician’s own which knocked him off balance. Before the Gerudo could react to the aggression, Yoland went to slash at the wrist that supported the blade. A fist collided into Yoland’s stomach, air fled from his lungs and his body crashed to the floor. The raven-haired man gaped for air. The aristocrat’s boot kicked into Yoland’s midsection, robbing him of recovery. A wounded wheeze escaped him.

A pair of boots appeared before him and Ganondorf was forced back. There were short exchanges as Yoland came to his knees.

“Always in the way, aren’t you Hero?” The Gerudo spat.

Link held his own, “Only yours. No need to get jealous.”

“It doesn’t matter what they call you,” the lord grunted as Link brought his blade down, “You’ll always be a peasant worthy of only pity in her eyes. This won’t change anything.”

Yoland stood now, breathing shallowly. Internally, he hoped the aches were temporary. Ganondorf had his back to him now, facing Link instead. The latter doing a show of enrapturing the large man in conversation. With a gulp, Yoland left his weapon in the dust and ran forward. He wrapped a forearm around the man’s neck and tightened the hold with the opposite arm. He yelled out Link’s name with hurry in his voice.

As the arms tightened, the politician raised his blade with the inability to shout. Link reacted by hitting the blunt of his sword into Ganondorf’s dominant hand. The weapon fell, and hands swiped at Yoland who felt the world turn sideways.

The guards that previously hung to the side approached now, prying the oversized man off with handcuffs in their grasp. Too busy choking, Ganondorf spat curses and shouts. Just past the disarray, Zelda sighed in relief at seeing the assaulted blacksmith coming to.

“That was unpleasant,” Yoland said, dusting off his trousers. Link didn’t reply and Yoland saw why. The glint in his eye was gone, replaced with distaste once more. With eyebrows raised in alarm, he fumbled for his weapon as Link came towards him. Zelda within was beside herself. The ally she saw in him wasn’t in front of her anymore and his expression was jarring, but she couldn’t linger on it for long. It wasn’t time for Zelda, she needed Yoland to be present.

He searched the opposite man’s face, “Can’t we breathe for a moment?”

“Why were you in the garden?” Link snarled, lunging towards him.

Yoland deflected the attempted blow. Surprise met his features and his heart pounded adrenaline. It had occurred to Zelda that it was Link that made a noise in the garden this morning. Her heart lurched in her chest, but by his demeanor he hadn’t seen her until after casting the spell. If she had waited any longer he would have known. Yoland didn’t display Zelda’s worries, instead he grinned. “Private matters.”

Staying spry on his feet, Yoland watched Link’s footwork and matched it. It was clear Link wanted answers because he was being easy on her, like when they trained. The only difference being that he meant to injure instead of teach. Speaking of Link, he looked beyond irritated, “What does that mean? Why were you outside Zelda’s terrace?”

She didn’t mean to laugh, but it came out anyway. It was easy to voice what one could gather from the awkward predicament. “What’s it to you? Maybe we have a thing going on.”

The look on his face confirmed what he had been thinking prior. Zelda regretted her words, but it was too late. Whatever preconceived notion he had conjured was confirmed. He lowered his sword for a moment, his head tilted in disbelief. “I don’t believe you.”

“You probably shouldn’t,” Yoland took the opportunity to aim his own blade at Link who blocked it at the last second. They were caught in a stalemate. “You never told me why you were here,” Yoland grunted out, struggling against Link’s added pressure.

“Do you really want to know? Or are you just trying to distract me?” Link said as his opponent side-stepped out of the stalemate and Link slashed his blade through the air. The move reminded him of something he couldn’t pinpoint.

Zelda knew she couldn’t beat him in strength. Again, she had to find distance and escape somehow, “Humor me.” She crouched to kick at his feet. Perhaps if he trips, she could disarm him. The action didn’t follow through and he dove to the side.

He stood straight, breathing heavily. Courage stirred in Zelda to see that she had kept him going for this long. Link shook his head in exasperation, “I just want to give her a choice.”

Yoland guarded himself, but his brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“When I win,” Link cracked a grin, “I’ll ask her what she wants.”

Their blades clashed again. Yoland blinked as if his statement didn’t register. “What if she says no?”

He didn’t unlock his eyes from his opponent. The blond hair stuck to his forehead now and his breath came in short pants, “I’ll leave. Or whatever she wants me to do. I thought about faking my death to get out of this place. Would be nice to see the mountains this time of year.”

A bitter laugh came from the black-haired man, “You’re bluffing.”

But he wasn’t and Yoland’s laughter settled to silence. “You’re joking, right?”

“No. I thought about it for a long time,” Link plainly said. As if it were nothing. Zelda felt nauseous. Her face felt like fire and the heat wasn’t helping.

“S-so,” Yoland fumbled backward, their blades parted as Zelda scrambled to get a grasp of what he was saying. He didn’t really want to marry her? With surprised eyes, Yoland ducked at a sudden slash towards him. Eventually, she found her voice, “What if she said yes? What would you do, Hero?”

Link frowned. He acted as if he didn’t understand. Reason fought through her flustered mind and she narrowed in on her advantageous situation. Yoland kept eye contact but bared down on his left foot and swung with all his might near the hilt of his sword. Link hadn’t expected it because his blade flew out of his hand. Yoland’s foot hit him squarely on the chest and kicked him backward, the man toppled over.

Yoland cleared his throat, breathing heavily now as he looked down at the bewildered hero. “What would you do?”

“I’m not stupid,” Link coughed, but reacted by grabbing the ankle of the unsuspecting man. “I’d marry her if she wanted me.”

Zelda yelped as her back hit the ground. Reflex brought her right arm inward along with the sword. It ended up below Link’s neck who looked precariously between it and Yoland’s eyes. He slowly backed up and Yoland didn’t move to stop him. It was Zelda’s head that was spinning.

She stood and met him as he retrieved his weapon. They were both out of breath. Link froze for a moment. He took a step closer and stared.

“What?” Zelda breathed out, turning to see what was behind her. There was nothing but open air. “What?” She repeated. With an arm raised she attacked where he parried lamely. The sword fell to the dirt.

His expression was indescribable, then he grinned.

“Link,” she was getting frustrated, “This isn’t funny.”

Link was laughing now. “You win.”

Zelda cocked her head to the side, “What are you- Stop it!” She stomped her foot on the ground, but it didn’t stop him.

The man looked towards the tower where the announcer was and shouted, “I forfeit!”

Then, Zelda noticed the quietness in the stands. With a glance at her hands, she understood why. Her masking spell had slipped. Her hands were no longer had the tan callousness of a man. They were pale and the only imperfections were the scrapes and bruises of today. She dropped her weapon and reached back to grab her braid. The locks were blonde.

“The…” the announcer seemed to step away and was speaking to another person, “The winner of the Queen’s Tournament is… Princess Zelda?”

The crowd irrupted in mayhem.

  “Ridiculous.”

“It’s for show, Zelda. He’ll be used as an example. He won’t be convicted.”

Zelda pointed at the one of the fabric pieces a maid held out. They were the same hues of blue, but evidently to the designer they were not. With a shake of her head she spun around to Impa, “How was he supposed to know and why wasn’t I told?”

“For your protection. Your coronation is a week away and-”

The princess sputtered, “My protection? He’s supposed to be the one helping to protect me!” She stomped around the advisor with fire in her eyes, angrily picking out goblets for the celebration.

“They put Link Forester behind bars for threatening me with a weapon,” her eyes were wide with disbelief and Zelda spoke breathlessly. “How am I supposed to put up with that? I am the acting queen and they went over my head.”

Impa sighed, exhausted. “They aren’t thrilled with your… display. You know that. We are down to days before a proper crowned monarch ascends to the throne after two years of absence. The ministry will pull every trick to disgruntle you before they no longer can.”

A deep flush crept up Zelda’s neck. It was born from a sudden frustration and the thought of Link. She hadn’t seen him since the tournament. They were barely able to speak a sentence until she was dragged away to be assessed for injury. Zelda had never been opposed to marriage, if anything she was annoyed with the idea of match making made on other’s part. She wanted to be in control of her life and if that meant wanting a man in it, then it will happen. Being of royalty, she learned early on that the criticisms and judgements of others had to be isolated from her own or else she’d be a vessel others controlled.

She cleared her voice, turning back to her mentor. “Where is he?”

“The holding cells,” Impa said before realizing her mistake, but it was too late and the princess had already brushed by her.

  ‘You know,’ Link thought, ‘It could be worse.’

Sure, the floor was cold and the only place to sleep was on a wool blanket with a myriad of holes. And the bathroom wasn’t the cleanest, but the soldiers he did know brought a generous amount of food for his meals and sometimes a maid came by with extra blankets. So yes, Link supposed it could be worse.

Link heard from rumors that they tried to have Zelda abdicate after the tournament, but once it went public there were protests in the streets. Borderline riots, from what he heard from one stationed guard. “Good,” was all he had replied. Because it was. There was no one’s approval Zelda cared more about than her peoples’. Link knew she felt bolstered by that and no doubt her attitude towards the house of ministers worsened. Now, they were saying her coronation was next week.

The tournament itself was two weeks ago now. He tried to say something to Zelda before they parted, but there was nothing that could prepare him for her presence. When her blade was touching his throat, he had watched her eyes change from dark to light. It was, to say the least, a shocking moment. It was no wonder how Yoland matched his footwork so well, but it was also obvious that she had practiced beyond what he had seen. Link was proud and maybe a little embarrassed by the things he had said to her throughout the tournament.

They had arrested him only a couple days ago under the pretense of attempted treason, which confused him to no end. He was actually on his way to pack for an escape, but there wasn’t much he could do about several armed castle guards storming into his room in the middle of the night. So, here he was waiting for a trial, which could take weeks if the court wanted it that way.

Link looked up from his place on the floor towards the stairs that led to the holding cells. There sounded like an argument occurring outside. The door opened and more shouting. His ears twitched up at the voice.

“Do you know who I am?” There was a clanking that rattled down the stairs and a sword landed at the foot. Another clinking was heard being wrestled with.

“Your Grace, please! I can’t allow you-”

Light steps bounded down the stairs and a form appeared, her colorful skirts were hiked up above her ankles and her head was turned to interrupt.

“You can’t allow me to what? See my own subjects? Remind me, sir, who did you swear your allegiance to?”

Zelda had the same effect on him as she always has. She stole his breath away and her casual beauty forever enraptured him. The princess didn’t have her crown on today, meaning there weren’t any public appearances. Her blonde hair spilled down her shoulders and she was impossibly perfect. Now, she was muttering her grievances and taking care to step over the fallen blade. She scanned the cells until her eyes rested on him. Zelda paused in her steps.

Link found his voice, “What are you doing here?”

She walked over slowly with a ring of steel keys in her grasp. Zelda looked thrown off, as if she was shocked to see him. “I- What are you doing here?”

“Well, I am incarcerated for harming the crown,” he jested. Zelda’s frown deepened and she fiddled with the keys, beginning to test them in the lock that separated them.

Link came to his feet and met her at the door. Concern flooded his mind, “What are you trying to do, Zelda?”

“I’m trying to get you out. This is stupid.”

He reached his hands through the bars and stopped her own. Their eyes met and he watched her brow crease in confusion. “You’re getting into trouble and you’re not even queen yet.”

“I’d rather be in trouble then leave you in here under false pretenses,” she said, looking up at him with an annoyed expression. But behind her eyes was a tinge of sadness. He smiled softly at her, “If you wait a week, you can pardon me yourself.”

“No! I… I want you there.”

Link looked thrown off by her comment. “That’s nice, Zel, but-”

“Were you telling the truth at the tournament?” She searched his eyes desperately. Her cheeks were reddening. He blinked in confusion, she was talking fast, and he could barely keep up, “What?”

“Two weeks ago. After Lord Ganondorf was dragged off the field. Were you telling the truth?”

Her hands grasped around his and Link felt his heart jump in his chest. Her head was just barely resting on the bars and he wanted nothing but to make whatever was causing her distress to go away.

“What part?” His lips quirked upward ever so slightly. “I only remember talking to a man with a peculiar name.”

“Link!” He heard her stomp her foot like she did then. “I’m serious!”

Link’s forehead touched to cold bars as he watched her frantic eyes and he wondered briefly why. Now the comparisons between the untrustworthy man and Zelda made sense. It was a wonder to him that he hadn’t figured it out, but if Link were honest with himself, he was never the type of man to draw logical conclusions with someone like Zelda involved. She was horribly intoxicating. With a heavy breath he spoke, “About why I was there?”

She nodded slowly and he felt like he couldn’t breathe with such big eyes on him. He didn’t feel like this against Zant. Sure, he was nervous. But Zelda was different. She was beautiful, strong, and unbelievably stubborn. “You’d been dragging your feet for the days and weeks leading up to it. Sadness and anger don’t suit you well, Zelda. Of course I was telling the truth,” Link smiled softly.

Her breath caught and Link thought he had said something wrong. Before he went to apologize, Zelda spoke up, “Marriage. W-what about being married? To me?”

“Marriage?” He leaned back to get a full look at her. Zelda’s face was blotched in red and she watched his reaction with wide eyes, “I’m sorry! I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…”

“Being married to you?” Link said again, his smile wavered, “Zelda, a man wouldn’t be a man if he didn’t dream about being with the most beautiful woman in Hyrule at least once.”

She looked expectant, but nervous. Her voice was uneven and her eyes never straying. “Even you?”

Link had to steady himself from doing anything rash. Her lips were so close and he thanked the goddesses for the bars separating them, though if she leaned closer…

“Yes,” his voice dipped low, “Especially me.”

He leaned down, watching her reaction as he did. She didn’t move and he couldn’t control his composure without her pushing him away. A part of Link wanted her to do just that, tell him no, or move back to give him some indication that what he was doing was wrong. But despite his silent rationale slipping away, she did none of those things. Instead, she waited for him with eyes flickering to his lips. Without a moment longer, Link eagerly pressed his lips onto hers and they were softer than he ever fantasized about. Her hands traveled upwards to his forearms until they were stopped by the bars. She breathed deeper into the kiss and Link was convinced she was a drug he’d forever be addicted to.

Far too soon, she pulled away and without catching her breath she spoke breathlessly, “I love you. Marry me.”

Between being dazed by her kiss and her words, he felt light-headed. The world passed by him as he stared dizzily at the woman who waited timorously. “I love you- wait, what?” He felt like passing out.

“Marry me?”

“But what about your coronation?”

She shook her head, “I don’t care.”

“Your cabinet, the ministers, the people?”

Again, she shook her head fervently as Link stared bewildered at the woman before him.

“I don’t care about them. I know what I want and I want you.”

He couldn’t stop the beating in his chest and the smile that painted across his lips. Despite the whirlwind of weight being dropped onto him and slowly coming to the fact that this may be the single most important moment in his life, doubt gnawed at him. His eyes searched the ground and his palms grew sweaty. “Zelda, are you sure you want me? I… Everything Ganondorf said wasn’t all false.”

“I’ve never been surer about anything than I am right now,” she spoke with a steady voice. Even had he lied to himself and refused her hand, there wasn’t a power in this world to keep Zelda’s stubbornness from winning. “Though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“You do have the keys, love.”

She stared at him for a moment. “I thought that meant getting in trouble, Link.”

“I believe we’ve surpassed trouble at this point.”

“Fair point,” she nodded, laughing lightly until she managed to shove a key into the lock. The rusty hinges creaked as the door opened. Link brushed a hand through his hair, “You know the implications of me marrying you, right?”

“I know, and frankly I think you’ll do fine,” she smiled as he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’m just a goat herder from South Hyrule. I can’t offer much. I don’t even have a ring,” Link beamed at her with pure adoration in his eyes.

Zelda hummed, “I don’t mind.” Her smile dropped, “You never said yes.”

Link grinned wryly, his lips already itching for another kiss. “Yes. Yes one-hundred times over to marry you.”

[dearjacobsamuel]

Most Memorable Year || Jella

WHO: Jake Puckerman & Stella Fabray WHERE: Dance Studio WHEN: Tuesday, September 29, 2020 NOTES: Stella informs Jake of the theme for their next dance and Jake tells her the full story of his accident. TRIGGERS: Car accident, death WORD COUNT: 2390

Stella arrived at the dance studio for her daily rehearsal with Jake. The night before, she and Jake had an absolute blast getting to be superheroes for their dance, but this coming week it was time to get serious. This week's theme was Most Memorable Year. Stella already had an idea of what Jake's would be with them bonding over the last few weeks during rehearsals, but she still felt the need to actually ask him what he considered to be his memorable year and why he considered it as memorable. Walking into their practice room, she flung her bag aside before grabbing her water bottle from the zipper compartment. She took a giant swig from it and waited on Jake to arrive. "Hey! You did fantastic last night! Now, it's time to get serious," she greeted as he entered.

Jake was still riding his high from the previous night. What could have been better than superheroes? Nothing. Sure, Stella had teased him all week but everything had been worth it in the end.

He tossed his bag near where he could already see Stell's and made his way over to her promptly so she could tell him about the new theme for the week, not that it could ever top last week, and the dance. "You weren't so bad yourself," he smiled, "shaped up to be a pretty good sidekick. I could have almost called you Jimmy Olsen." Stella was far from a sidekick and she knew it, but if he was keeping up all this Superman stuff, she was stuck with Jimmy.

Stella couldn't help rolling her eyes at Jake's comment about her being his sidekick, but she would at least humor him and let him call her what he wanted to given the nature of their upcoming dance. She had already heard bits and pieces about the events that led to his accident and the aftermath, but she still hadn't heard the whole thing yet. 

This dance would definitely be an emotional one for her partner and she wanted to make sure this would be their best one yet, and that it would leave a lasting impression on both the judges and viewing audience. "Ha, ha, Jake," she grinned. "Though we both know I'm more Supergirl in this operation than Jimmy Olsen." Pausing for a beat, she bit her bottom lip slightly. "So, this week is Most Memorable Year," she began, not even wanting to beat around the bush. "We have contemporary and we'll be dancing to 'Take Me Home' by Us the Duo."

Jake playfully rolled his eyes, despite how truthful the statement was. Stella could be Supergirl if she tried, without a doubt, but he wasn't going to give her that, not right now.

His grin faded, though not into a frown when she explained. Contemporary was good though, he had a little experience there, but not since high school and maybe some in PT. Less technical, but a hell of a lot more emotional. He knew the song and without a second thought he nodded and replied. "2012," Jake told Stella, not missing a beat. "I'm sure you can do the math and figure it out, it's the year ... everything changed."

Jake ran a hand over his head, a bit of a nervous habit when he was uncomfortable or embarrassed, not that he felt the need to be. Stella knew he'd been in an accident and he'd been with friends and he was the sole survivor. Most people knew that. His leg and the accident weren't something Jake felt ashamed about, not anymore. But he lost more than his leg and a couple friends that day, and this dance would really make him feel that and for a moment, Jake wasn't sure he was ready for that.

The energy in the room immediately shifted as soon as Stella brought up the week's theme and the dance they would be doing. That much was obvious. She knew this week was almost always an emotional one for the celebrities and that this season it would be no different. Jake's story deserved to be told though. The audience deserved to know what Jake had endured as a result of his accident. He had come so far since that day and he deserved to be proud about that.

At his response, Stella could only nod in understanding. She already knew that would be his answer. "Come on. Let's sit and you can tell me all about it," she instructed, patting the space on the floor next to her as she sat. "I know you lost a lot that day, but you also gained a lot as well. I really want to help convey that in the choreography and do you proud, as well as your friends," she told him with a smile.

In the back of his head Jake knew this was coming. He wasn’t super familiar with the show but he’d done a little research beforehand, both on the professional dancers and past winners, this was a theme that was always implemented. He knew this week would carry a lot of ups and downs but he trusted Stella to help him create something from it.

He nodded again and sat with his partner, his friend, and took a short moment before delving into his story.

“It was graduation night, you know? Supposed to be this great night. My mom took us out for this quiet dinner so it was me and my dance partner since forever, she was my best friend, she’d love you and all this that I’m doing. Also give me a ton of critiques, but I could take it. Also with my boyfriend, Owen. We’d been going out for ... I don’t know, three years but friends since like, middle school.” Jake took a breath to compose himself, he knew Stella would be listening, it was just hard saying everything out loud, at once.

“So we’re just driving along and Owen was changing the song or something like that and all of a sudden everything just ... stopped. Thankfully I don’t actually remember much but I’m told a drunk driver t-boned us from the passenger side. The next thing I remember was waking up and seeing my grandma. She looked awful and I knew something wasn’t right but I wasn’t expecting her to tell me they’d all died and that I almost did too.” Jake paused again, his memory of the night might not be there, but the look on his grandma’s face would be seared into his brain for all eternity. He admired her so much to have been able to tell him as compassionately as she did and if it had been anyone else, he knew it would have been even worse. “The only thing that would have made it worse at that point were if my siblings had decided to come with us that night.” “So... I’m eighteen. I have one leg. I just lost my mom, the love of my life and my best friend. Pretty sure my dreams are as shattered as my leg was. I had to give up going to Julliard. I stopped eating and refused to move and ... yeah, I wasn’t me. It wasn’t really until Owen’s younger sister gave me the lecture of a lifetime about how pissed he’d be if he could see what I was doing and ... it got through. So I started doing what I had to do to get here.”

Stella sat and listened intently as Jake dove into telling his story. She had heard bits and pieces of it before now, but this was the first time she was actually getting to hear the whole story detail for detail. Yet, she still wasn't sure what exactly she'd hear.

She couldn't help letting a small smile form on her face as he spoke about his former dance partner and best friend. "She sounds like a smart girl. Well, at least she'd have to be anyways to put up with you," she half joked. Noting Jake's pause, she took the moment to place a hand lightly on his leg. A sign to let him know that she was there for him and that she was listening.

"W-wow..." was all she could muster to say as he spoke about the accident. "I know it might not have seemed that way then, but you know, angels were watching out for you that day, Jake. Your friends knew what you could do and what you could accomplish one day, and I'm glad they were," she continued, pulling him close for a hug. "What you've been able to accomplish since that day has been pure magic and I'm sure it's been so inspiring to other people with disabilities similar to yours. I'm sure it gives them all hope that one day they too could make it on Broadway and even be able to compete on a show like this."

"You know, I'm sure your friend had a hand in making sure you got to be here with me today," she said softly, but confidently. "We're definitely going to make her, Owen, and your mom proud, okay? I promise you that I'm gonna create something magical that will definitely honor all of them and your journey. Okay?"

She was right. As usual, Stella was right. Despite everything bad that had happened that night, it could only have been so much worse if he hadn't survived. One more teenager lost did no one any good, and sure, it wasn't like he was wise in his ripe age of twenty-four, but he'd spent a lot time reflecting on how he was fortunate. Jake leaned into Stella's hug and squeezed her back. Pulling back, wiping his face a little, he nodded.

"The first time another amputee came up to me in public, this little girl, she must have been like ... nine or something, and she just ran right up and hugged me on the subway, and man, was her dad embarrassed, I felt for the guy but it wasn’t like I was mad, it was really cool. She was just happy to see someone like her getting publicity for Broadway," Jake couldn't help from smiling as he remembered that day. "So you better help me make magic on Monday, I think I owe it to everyone who helped me get here."

Stella beamed as Jake told her about the little girl like him on the subway. "See? Exactly. You're supposed to be doing this, kicking major butt, and inspiring people like that little girl. I promise you though, this routine will be amazing. Your family will be incredibly proud of you, and I will be too," she told him confidently.

"Come on," she declared as she rose from her spot, extending her hand out to him. "I already have ideas forming in my brain. Get ready for some magic, Puckerman," she told him cheekily. "So I'm thinking when we start you can start sitting in the floor, and then I can come up behind you to symbolize you after the accident, not knowing if you were going to live or not and your friends being your guardian angels in the aftermath and helping you get up."

Grabbing hold of Stella’s hand to help himself up after that talk felt all too cliche but it amused him too so he did it without comment. Jake nodded as she already started talking about her ideas, he could already tell that the dance was going to be amazing.

“You’re really going to run with this whole guardian angel thing, aren’t you?” He asked with a small smile. It meant a lot to him that Stella was taking this as seriously as he needed her too but she kept it light. Jake wasn’t one for living in those feelings for too long. Sure, he missed them a lot, it would always hurt, but if roles were reversed, he’d want Owen to be out living his best life because ... you never knew when it was going to be taken from you.

Stella let out a laugh as Jake questioned the direction she was taking the dance. "Of course I am! Have you not already learned that when I get an idea, I run with it one-thousand percent?" she asked. Going through all the possibilities in her head for this dance, she instinctively began biting at her nails, a sort-of habit she had picked up when she was young and was concentrating on something so intensely.

She wanted to do a good job choreographing this piece and making sure that it was special and meaningful to Jake, that it was no surprise to her now that she was even biting her nails. "Okay, so in my mind, I'm picturing it's like you're finding your strength as we go through the dance. And once it hits the chorus of the song, it's like all of your confidence pouring out and it representing where you're at now with having done Broadway, your movies and now the show. What do you think?"

The nail biting was back, Stella was obviously calculating something hard in her brain, Jake could practically see the wheels turning. He closed his eyes and started picturing what she was describing and he couldn't help the smile. He loved the idea.

"What if there's a moment, just before the chorus and I stop, one small moment, a moment of doubt, we all have them... Am I thinking too much?" Jake didn't want this to show an easy journey, because that would be romanticising some of the hardest times in his life and he wasn't about that. People deserved transparency and honesty and before he got Hamilton he'd had plenty of those, and there were even still days where the pain was too much, phantom pain was a right bitch, and those moments could creep up.

Pausing mid-thought as Jake started to speak, Stella's smile widened. "No, no, no. That's... that's actually... perfect", she exclaimed in excitement. "It's like... you have that moment of doubt and are ready to give up, but then it's like you get that burst of energy to get you going again and it's just pure magic", she continued excitedly.

Excited with the new contribution from Jake, she immediately began getting to work on steps that would help emphasize the points they were wanting to get across in their story and dance. Jake's story was truly a story of strength and this dance would showcase that perfectly if she played her cards right.

[geekygee01]

A Thousand Years

Skin and Bones

Characters: Reader, Thor, Loki, Frigga, some minor oc’s

Pairings: Thor x Reader, (possible) Loki x reader

Warnings: Slight violence, ‘punishment’, rape/noncon/dubcon

Chapter Summary: It has finally arrived, your wedding night, you learn Thor is as boorish as imagined, and an insatiable man. He is one who likes to be in control of everything, so when you slip out for a morning stroll you only serve to anger him more. Though you never could have imagined the consequences that befell a simple walk through the palace. 

Word Count: 2135

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

“You do not get to tell me what to do you insolent little girl!” he snaps “I have been waiting a long time for this. It’s about time I teach you a lesson in respect!” with those words he tears your nightgown right off your body and throws you across the spacious mattress. “You will learn your place, even if it takes me years to teach you.”

You try to crawl to the other side of the bed and put some distance between you but he grabs your ankle and drags you back to him so that your bottom half is basically hanging off the bed. You hear him undressing behind you before a strange whistling noise…

Thwack

Something hard whips into the backs of your legs, you scream out and try to pull away but he just holds on tighter and whips you again. You turn and look over his shoulder to see him holding his thick leather belt over his head. This time when he brings it down it hits your bare ass.

“Maybe you will remember this the next time you feel the urge to speak out of turn!” he brings the leather down against you at least five times in rapid succession and your struggling starts anew, “it seems as if you aren’t learning any lessons from this.” This time he aims it across your back, the buckle hitting a notch of your spine, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of your screams but you can’t hold them back anymore.

He continues his punishment until you are a sobbing mess on the mattress, shaking and apologising over and over.

The hand on your ankle disappears but you don’t move a muscle, too sore and fearful of retribution. When his hand returns to your body it’s to rub some sort of salve over your back, thighs and butt. A cooling sensation replaces the burning pain and you let out a sigh of relief, it’s short-lived as Thor flips you over onto your back and looms over you naked as the day he was born. He braces himself over you, fingers curled into fists on either side of your head.

“Now to make a woman of my wife.”

Your fists pound uselessly against his bare and chiselled chest “Please stop! Haven’t you done enough!?”

He lifts one hand to graze along your cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb. “Hush now little one,” he croons.

You pull your face away from his hand and look to the side of the room, fighting the urge to bite at his fingers or spit in his face. You would rather not find out what he does to violent, insolent girls. His hand leaves your face, trailing down your body before gripping your thigh and lifting it around his hip. You freeze in place and brace yourself for the inevitable pain that will follow your coupling.

Thor chuckles against you “oh, don’t worry little one, I promise to make this good for you.” His hand releases your leg and finds its way to your unclothed core, brushing softly against the hair between your legs. His thumb grazes something, brushing along a part of you that makes you gasp.

Thor directs a smug grin down at you before pressing down a bit harder, causing your hands to clench at your sides as you hiss in pleasure. You do not want to enjoy any part of this, especially not to such a brute of a man, but your body is betraying you. At his every touch you feel such magic thrum within your veins. His fingers dance through your folds and his lips blaze a fiery trail along your body and you are flying, you have never felt anything like this before.

His mouth makes it way between your legs causing you to shoot upright in shock, but he just places a firm hand on your stomach and pushes you back down, mouth latching onto that special part of you that makes your body sing. With his mouth preoccupied, his fingers find their way to your entrance, one slipping in easily to your dismay. He crooks it just so and suddenly you are not flying anymore, no you are falling. You are falling fast and hard though you do not know what to make of it.

The new feeling makes your body seize, your vision is white but somehow also colourful, a myriad of thought and feelings swirl through your brain but you can’t catch onto a single one of them at this point in time.

Once you come back to yourself you notice Thor’s face above yours yet again, a smug grin marred by your own juices “nothing like the face of a woman cumming.”

Your eyes widen at the use of such vulgar words but are distracted from responding by the realisation that he has slipped more fingers into you. Thor groans as you unwittingly clench around his fingers, he pulls them out and replaces them within his mouth, sucking them clean with darkened eyes and a feral grin.

His hips are nestled by yours, his legs stretching your thighs to make room for himself within your grasp. He lays a filthy kiss upon your neck as his… his manhood lays upon your womanly area.

“Is someone’s pretty pussy desperate for my cock?” he grins and moves the head of his… cock through the lips of your… pussy. Coating it in residual wetness before notching at your opening. You expect him to inch within you, taking your maidenhood as his and laying claim to your body.

Instead, he pulls away. You think maybe he’s going to make you return the favour, but before you can question him he’s sliding home in your body. Breaking through your barriers with one painful, forceful thrust.

You let out an ear-piercing scream, tears prick at your eyes as he carves a place for himself with no mind for your comfort. He pulls back slowly, whistling at something he must-see.

“So the wild little one did save herself for me. That’s good, less trouble for you,” you shift your head to see what he’s talking about. Nausea filling your stomach as you take in his blood-covered cock.

You lay your head back into the pillows, turning it so that you may bite into one to ground yourself from this pain. You resign yourself to the ever-clear fact that the first part of this was for your pleasure, and now… well, now it is all about his.

…

You rise with the sun, barely peeking out from behind some faraway mountains. You slip carefully from the large bed, so as to not disturb the snoring figure of your new husband. You find the robe provided to you by the servants last night and slip it over your shoulders, glad you didn’t wear it last night else it may have met the same fate as your slip. As you make your way over to his balcony you can feel the evidence of last nights’ activities between your thighs. You’re no expert, but even to your limited experience it seems like a lot to come from one man, though he’s not a man, he’s a god, and they probably don’t call him God of fertility for nothing.

You stand in the brisk breeze with pretty bird calls aiding in your attempts at relaxation while you watch the slow rising of the warm sun. You may be far away from home, but as you watch the sunrise, you know back home your mother and Edrice would be watching the same sun together over breakfast, hopefully thinking of you as you are of them.

Sooner than you’d like the spendings between your thighs gets too uncomfortable for you to stay and enjoy the early morning peace. You tiptoe to the adjoining bath-chambers to give yourself a thorough wipe down, not risking a bath in case the sound of running water awakens Thor. Once you're as clean as can be given the circumstances you head to the chamber doors, popping your head out to see if you can catch a servant and ask for a dress. None of your things have been brought to the room as of yet, whether by negligence or Thor’s insistence, you do not know.

////////////

You wrap the overly fancy shawl tighter around your shoulders, it’s a lot cooler than you anticipated, so used to year-round warmth this chilly breeze is an unwelcome change. But at least the hustle and bustle of the marketplace serves as a pleasant distraction to the cold weather and colder husband, vendors line the streets selling all manners of things. From fresh fruits, exquisite jewellery, the latest in fashions and even one that seems to be a menagerie of exotic animals.

You stop by the aforementioned animal stall and take in all the creatures. The poor things seem to be very agitated, there’s one tiny cage with three odd furry creatures standing on their hind legs. Inside small vials are what appear to be small colourful fish, there are birds of all shapes sizes and colours, frogs, snakes, odd-looking babies that look like cougars as well as wolf-like pups and so much more. None of them look happy or comfortable and it breaks your heart, you wish you had money to buy them all away from this horrible life.

But alas, all you have are the clothes on your back and some wildflowers you picked along your way here. You make eye contact with a funny little cougar, the only one not hissing or rubbing up against the small bars of its cage. You place your hand by its head and it slowly inches forward, rubbing itself against you as best it can.

“Hello there little one,” you coo “do you feel as trapped as I do? Probably more so, at least I’m not in a physical prison.”

The vendor seems to finally pick up on your presence and moves closer to you with a slimy grin “I see you have noticed one of my cats,” cat? Must be similar to the cougars you have back home “they’re mostly from the planet Midgard, an abundance of them there, like bunnies, which they also have.” He laughs at what he must think is a funny joke but you just go back to scratching the cat.

“You want?”

“I haven’t any money on me,” you sadly admit.

“For the future Queen, pfft, free. You just tell everyone where you got him, and be sure to visit me again soon. You could always come buy him a friend,” you smile at the suggestion, not because you want to help him in any way, but because you want all these animals to be rescued as soon as possible.

As soon as you’re away from the vendor you take your new friend out of his tiny prison, he purrs gratefully as you hold him in your arms “I shall never lock you away again little one,” you whisper into the scruff of his neck. “Now how do you feel about baths? You are a dirty boy.”

….

He never gets that bath. The moment you’re in the courtyard of the palace one of your ladies maid’s is rushing towards you in a frenzy. Babbling on about sneaking out, the royal family panicking and something about big trouble.

“Slow down Mysandrei, you’ll work yourself into a stupor.”

“Sorry, m’ lady. I thought it best to mention the worry the royal family felt upon noticing you missing. And the rage that Prince Thor flew into," she takes a deep breath as prompted and slowly calms down.

You hand off your new little friend to Mysandrei before rushing into the palace and nearly run straight into the Queen, flanked by her sons and some servants.

“Sorry my Queen,” you apologise quickly.

“Would this apology be for almost knocking the Queen over or for all the worry you caused the palace?” Loki drawls, though his mother is quick to scold him.

“No, it’s alright. He’s right. I’m sorry for both. I didn’t mean to worry anyone or sneak out. I just went for a stroll and didn’t want to wake anyone. I let some maids know where I’d be going but this is my fault. I should have said something instead of relying on another to spread my message,” you rush out, taking in their responses. Loki looks amused and Frigga looks relieved, it’s Thor’s reaction you’re worried about. You quickly glance towards him and take in his thunderous expression.

Frigga starts to wave off your apology and tell you that it’s alright but Thor is already by your side and dragging you away, giving some excuse of talking to you in private about proper etiquette. Though you fear there won’t be much talking.

[redhoodsjacket]

Acid - Bruce Banner

I’m on fire guys. Another one in the Mutant serie... This one is kinda intense ngl

Mutant serie masterlist

Pairing: Bruce Banner x Reader

Genre: Drama (surprise...), bit of fluff toward the end

Word count: 2408

Summary: The one where Bruce confesses his feelings for you after you reveal you biggest secret to him

Warnings: Mention of substance abuse, mention of pain related trauma, mention of death

"... seemingly a robbery that turned bad at America's Bank on the seventh street, where several hostages witnessed a "beast" tearing down everything in its path. Eye witness Linda Warner was on the first line to see it all fold out. - Yeah, it came out of one of the offices. At first it attacked to robbers, but then it attacked people around, I was scared for my life! - Seven people perished, including the four robbers on place. More at six with the police's statement" Tony closed the TV, sighing as he mentally rehearsed what he'd tell the press, then what he'd do about this so called beast.  "So, what's happening now?"  He jumped at the voice and turned around in his rolling chair to face the door. He never heard Bruce come in. "Some beast prevented a bank robbery with a few causalities" He shrugged. "So same old" 

"A bank?" Bruce frowned. "Which one?" "America's Bank down on the seventh" Bruce stilled at his words, his breathing accelerating as he tried to tell himself that it couldn't be... "Tony, where's (Y/N)?" "She said she was going to the bank real quick for an appointm... Oh no" Tony's eyes widened at the realization. "You don't think it's her bank, do you?" Bruce only made a face and swallowed the lump forming in his throat, fearing that it might very well be the bank she had her account in.  "FRIDAY, call (Y/N)" Tony ordered. "Very well" The AI answered. They waited a few seconds before it spoke again. "It appears as (Y/N) is declining your attempts to reach her. Should I try again?" Tony replied affirmatively and waited again. It still fell on the voicemail. "(Y/N) has requested me to inform you that she is fine, and that she needs some time away. Should I override that request?" "Y-" "No" Bruce replied before Tony, sending him a warning glance. "She's fine, she just needs some time alone" Tony was about to argue, but he stopped himself. "Fine. But if my head biologist is not back here safe and sound in twenty four hours, I'm going after her" /-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/ You hand were shaking on the steering wheel as you sped through a familiar road in the woods. Dried blood was still on your ripped clothes, your hair was a messy bird nest and dust still stuck under your nails. But you didn't care about how terrible you looked.  Ten years. You had been without an incident for ten years. Countless hours of practicing your control and restraint, and for what? Ruining everything with a gunshot.  You had an appointment at 10:15 with your financial adviser. You just needed to check something out, it wasn't supposed to last more than 20 minutes. But then, a bunch of robbers decided to strike in broad daylight, gangster fashion. You crouched as the first gunshots echoed, but you thought you'd be safe in the office you were in. You weren't.  A guy found you, and decided you wouldn't be a part of the hostages. You felt the bullet rip through your back, followed by the haunting crunch of the first bone dislocating. Before you even knew it, scales protruded from your spine and your skin turned into this porous, acid sweating mess. You lost control. You killed the guy who shot you, then all of his buddies before the cops even showed. But it was the three innocent people that stayed on your mind. Casualties, that's what they were called. People dying as a result of neutralizing a threat, a necessary evil one might say. But you didn't believe that. They were victims, your victims. They were dead because your control slipped. It was your fault. The ringing of the communication device in the car made you jump on surprise, bringing you back to reality. You read the caller ID, and immediately declined the call. Then, it rang again. So you declined again. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., tell Stark that I'm fine" You called to the AI, wiping your tears from your eyes. "Tell him I need some time away" "Miss (Y/N), your current vitals are at a concerning level right now" The AI replied. "I would suggest seeking help. Should I notify your emergency contact?" "No, just-" You paused, frowning. "Who's my emergency contact anyway?" "Bruce Banner"  Oh. "Just- just notify Stark that I'm okay" You sighed.  "Very well" It replied before shutting down. You ran a hand down your face and kept on driving. It wasn't long until you pulled up in the driveway of a round wood cabin, the one you used to spend your summers in when you were younger. You parked the car and headed inside, hoping nothing had changed.  After dusting off everything, you found out that it was exactly the same as when you had last visited. Even your old room hadn't been touched.  You changed into some of your mother's old, loose fitting clothes and grabbed a bottle of wine from the cellar and slid down on the floor and the couch's foot. You blew on the label to make the dust fly off and absentedmindly read it. It was a red, probably not so expensive if it was here. You unscrewed it, and right before you could take your first swing, you heard the front door creak open.  "(Y/N)?" You closed your eyes and threw your head back, stiffening a groan. Stupid AI not listening to you. "I thought I told F.R.I.D.A.Y. that I wanted to be left alone" You said in a raspy voice from all of the crying, staring into nothing ahead of you. "Well, technically, you told it to tell Stark to leave you alone. Not me, at least not explicitly" Bruce awkwardly shuffled in. "Besides, I think it sent me your coordinates as soon as you left Manhattan, y'know, emergency contact stuff" You chuckled emptily and glanced at him. "Of course it did" You muttered. "Uh, are you okay?" He asked as he stopped near you. You shook your head slowly and put the bottle down. "Were you hurt during the robbery?" You shook your head again and patted the space beside you. He obliged, but it didn't ease his concerned expression.  "You know, I didn't always have it figured out" You started, not able to refrain yourself from pouring out your emotions. "Since I was out of high school, I was a drug addict. Obviously I didn't consider myself that back then, but now I see I had a hell of a problem" "Wow" Bruce breathed, eyebrows rising. "That's kinda hard to believe" "Yep. I did all kinds of drugs. Soft ones, hard ones, as long as I felt the buzz. And I my friends were all the same. All I wanted was to have fun, even if I was the only one to agree with how. My parents didn't like it very much, so they cut me off. Didn't care about that either, I thought I was free from their judgement. "One day, while my friends and I were off to a trip in Costa Rica, we decided to go see the volcanoes. We were obviously high as a kite, didn't have a care in the world. So we passed by those lakes in the craters, that might be fatally acidic depending on how much the volcano is active. Then this guy dares me to jump in without checking if it was safe. "The water was so pretty, a vibrant turquoise shining in the sun. I will always remember that moment, that split moment before I jumped. Then, a second after, came the worst pain of my life" "I guess it wasn't safe" He mumbled, looking down then back at you again. "Nope" You shook your head. "I felt my skin melt, Bruce. And by the time I dragged myself out of the water, maybe three or four second, the water wasn't very shallow..." "Then how... How did-How are you even here?" He stuttered, scanning you from head to toes. You certainly didn't seem like someone who had jumped into an acidic water basin. "That's the thing" You sighed. "I somehow survived the ride to the hospital. I think all the drugs in my system actually numbed the pain, even if it was still excruciating. I remember them wrapping me up in bandages, then put me in a medically induced coma. And the first thing I knew, I woke up butt naked on the forest floor, skin as smooth as a baby" Bruce stared at you for a second before realization flashed in his eyes. "It was you" You nodded, refusing to meet his eyes. "I worked so hard, Bruce. To control my shifts. Not to let it take over me. I came back in New-York, got myself together, got my PhD in biology to understand my mutation better, and here I am, turning into a huge monster and wrecking shit in a bank" "Hey, it's okay" He reassured, rubbing your shoulder. "It's not your fault. Trust me on this" "Right, I almost forgot" You gave a timid smile to the floor. "The green guy must do as he pleases too, uh?" "I'm kinda coming around to terms with him, actually" He chuckled, and so did you. He truly was making progresses, it was impressive. "But you shouldn't blame yourself. Take it from someone with experience, you have to forgive the beast and move on, or else you'll die of guilt" "Okay" You breathed, nodding. "I'll try" "Also, whatever people will say, ignore them. They'll be afraid, but you don't have to be" He shrugged. "It's part of you, you can't change it, but you can learn to live with it" "Easy to say when your monster still kinda looks good" You half joked. "Mine looks right out of a nightmare" "My monster looks good?" He chuckled in disbelief, eyebrows raised high. "Besides, I'm sure it can't be that bad"  "Yeah I'd rather have yours than mine" You admitted with a sigh. "Could you... you know, show me?" He asked shyly. "What?" Your pulse accelerated at what he was asking of you.  "I mean if you don't mind" He hurried to the explanation. "I'd like to see it, but only if you are up for it" "I uh, I... okay" You agreed with a sigh and stood up. "Just don't take off running as soon as you see it, please" "Promise" He gave you a small smile.  You took a few steps back and focused on your changing. You felt your muscles pull themselves apart and rearrange in your back to accommodate the scales as well as your fingernails grow into talons. Bruce's eyes went wide, but he didn't seem afraid. It would be a first, because everyone else you crossed while being the other you had been straight up terrified.  He had the time to look you up and down before you shrunk back to your normal self. You were glad the cotton shorts and loose shirt had held on the transition this time, or it would have lead to a very uncomfortable situation.  "It's..." "Ugly? Horrible? The worst thing you've ever seen?" You suggested. "No" He objected. "I was gonna say fascinating" "Not a lot of people seem to think that" You said as you sat back down next to him.  "But I do" He once again smiled at you. "I think it's pretty cool, actually" You looked down at the floor to hide the blush on your cheek at his compliment. You had always liked Bruce, maybe as something more than a friend. He was kind, smart and thoughtful, and he always helped you when you needed it. But you had overheard him tell Tony with a hard certainty that relationships wasn't his thing and that he didn't want one. So you gave up chasing after him. But looking at him now, it was hard to ignore your feelings for him. His proximity was calming, and his warm brown eyes were drawing you closer to him. "Thank you" You whispered. "It's comforting to know you have a friend who can relate, and not judge you" "About that" He said not very much louder than your own voice. "There was something I've been meaning to uh. Talk to you about" "Yes?" Your heart leaped in your throat. "Do you ever think that uh, maybe it shouldn't... Be what we are?" He asked nervously. "Just friends?"  "Sometimes..." You trailed off in between two quick breaths. "Most of the time to be honest"  "O-okay" He nodded, a light fluster reddening his cheeks. "I uh, really, really like you, (Y/N)" "I really, really like you too, Bruce" you smiled timidly like you were a teenager all over again. But this time, more sober and with definitely less mistakes. You leaned toward him, pausing only at an inch from his lips, as to silently ask for permission.  He closed the distance and your lips pressed in a soft, gentle kiss. Your hand went to rest lightly on his cheek as you parted, still staying only inches apart. You looked up and met his glance, which was sparkling in a way that you decided you loved. A smile tugged at both of your mouths at what just happened, happy to finally have let the cat out of the bag.  "So this happened" You muttered, linking your fingers with his. You didn't move away though, you liked the proximity. "I hope it keeps happening too" He replied, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with his free hand.  "I don't wanna go back yet" You admitted. Because then you'd have to tell people of your condition, and job would get in the way again. You wanted to stay in this little bubble you had just created a bit longer. "Let's stay here for a while" Bruce seemed to understand the feeling. His smile widened to become even a bit childish. "Tony gave you 24 hours before he comes and get you himself" He began. "So that leaves us 22 hours 19 minutes of peace to forget about reality" "That sounds like a deal" You grinned. "But we'll just need more wine"  "Your face tells me it won't be a problem" He stated. "Indeed it won't, Dr. Banner" You rested your head on his shoulder and snuggled closer to him. His arm went around your shoulder and rubbed your arm soothingly. "Indeed it won't"

•••

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@thehabssuck-getoverit @potato-with-possible-standards @ fortisetgloriosusinarduis

[zukadiary]

Ill Conceived Terror Trip Day 1: West Side Story

After I made that dramatic post about missing Daimon’s ohirome, one KazukiMotherfuckingSora showed up to rehearsal in red nails and dangly earrings, and here I am for a meager week, something my fear of flying and I never planned nor desired to attempt, least of all in the winter with my vacation days tapped out and my work schedule running 11pm-7am. Daylight where?

This whole situation is so... unfortunate. It’s ticket cancellation hell; I was supposed to go with three friends today and all their tickets evaporated. My second ticket got cancelled too. But faced with the painful reality that barring a true miracle this show will be entirely lost to the void, I’m feeling very lucky for the one shot I got, and very justified in deciding extremely late be extremely stupid. I wish something this good didn’t have to be this ephemeral. I tried my very best to burn it into my jet lagged memory... knowing West Side Story helped.

Other than dilution of the racism issue, the show was basically untouched. Some of that was just kind of lost in translation, but a bit was consciously altered (for example, America is all ladies minus the dissenting Shark men). EDIT: two people have now informed me that this was actually a movie change! Anyway, while it would be cool to see them tackle something like that, I get that there’s no cultural reference point, and I really can’t complain about my experience, other than that it was too short.

I’m rescinding all that haha. After a last minute blessed second viewing in which I comprehended significantly more dialogue, sure some things were still lost in translation but I feel comfortable calling this an EXTREMELY RESPECTABLE EFFORT ⭐

If you’re one of the lucky few with a future ticket, stop here and don’t deprive yourself of the impact.

Moment 1: the curtain rises on a few Jets with Zun-chan at the center looking, to be perfectly accurate, FINE AS HELL. Breathtakingly so. Grown up and absolutely slaying.

Moment 2: they start to move, and the work of the imported Broadway choreographer is immediately evident. Sometimes you don’t realize you’ve been watching Very Takarazuka Choreography until you see the same girls dancing something else. 

Moment 3: enter KikiBernardo, and all of my internal organs lurched upward a bit. If this is the beginning of Soragumi Kiki, be very afraid. 

Makaze enters casually after the opening dance number, without the typical dramatic “enter PAUSE” that leaves room for everyone to applaud the top star. The more I dwell on it, the happier I am that our first taste of Top Star Makaze Suzuho is a soft role; I live for Makaze struggling to keep the sexface just under the lethal dose, but her softness is also so beautiful. Love at first sight so strong you don’t even care that this asshole killed your brother is pretty unbelievable, but Makaze had me buying in 100%. And the 50s street clothes look—t-shirt under a collared shirt tucked loosely into slightly awkward dad jeans with a thick belt and sneakers, topped with a bomber depending on the scene—is SO GOOD for her. 

WSS is home run casting, for all the Soragumi members on this side of the split, but particularly for our pair of fresh top stars, and particularly at this stage. They have a lot of figuring each other out to do as a combi—specifically learning how to sing together—but this worked; they aced the naive and reckless Tony/Maria dynamic. Maria throughout is a flatter character than Madoka is capable of playing, but she took full advantage of the emotional final scene and was excruciating. The silences in between her words were deafening. 

Every dance number is an absolute delight: the fights more dynamic than most of the actual stage combat I’ve seen Takarazuka attempt; Mambo with its rotating pair dances and KikiSora giving everyone a lesson in erotic chemistry; America with its cha cha ruffles and my kid leading a pack of fierce musumeyaku; Cool being just that, featuring a really relatable moment of Zun-chan pleading “chill out” and Moeko screaming anyway; I couldn’t pick a favorite if I wanted to. There are some GENUINELY SCARY and hella impressive bits too; first someone... Zun-chan? (it’s APPALLING that my feeble memory is the only place this show can live) ((EDIT: it was Junna Subaru))  does some crazy jump flip thing and everyone catches her. Later Kiki SCALES A REALASS CHAIN LINK FENCE by 1) jumping right up to mid-fence 2) climbing to the top 3) UPSIDE DOWN FLIPPING HERSELF OVER THE TOP and 4) landing like a wild cat, resulting in possibly the hottest single feat I’ve witnessed on a stage (shortly afterwards pretty much everyone in a gang, including the TOP STAR who must be protected at all costs, followed suit with the partially upside down fence scaling).

Our notable Jets: Zun-chan, in addition to upping her look enough to stop my heart, still has this delightful little brother vibe about her that made her the perfect Riff, while still showing impressive leadership abilities as essentially the head of the group while Tony is off being lovestruck dumb. Another favorite was EBI as Velma (Zun’s girl), for her adorable look, her ace dancing, and her PFF BITCH NO faces made at Zun’s attempts to order her around. Fuuma Kakeru is forever the literal best, and likewise picture perfect in the 50s street urchin uniform. Monchi needed more opportunity to use her voice but got to wear glasses. Moeko gave an impressive effort as hot-headed Action, especially considering difficult choreography is not really her thing. BABY TONAMI, fresh 103rd Yumeshiro Aya as Anybodys, went above and beyond ken-1 (I still think roles of pure spunk are the easiest to slay, but impressive nonetheless). 

And our notable Sharks, working up to my Main Event: if you count lines said with your EYES, Sao might have had the biggest role in the whole show, along with absolutely perfect disgusting Grease hair (one stray lock on her forehead). She also made me cry at the end when she’s the only Shark to help carry Tony’s body. She outshone Riku (Chino) a bit, but much like Madoka, Riku also turned it up for the last scene, even with completely wordless acting. 

Dark, sleazy, terrifying, devastatingly handsome Kiki. Her Bernardo made the show (objectively... I KNOW I HAVEN’T GOTTEN TO *HER* YET). Every face and every mannerism was calculated and perfect. Wiping her hand on her pants every time she had to touch a Jet... somehow manufacturing absolutely electrifying chemistry with Soragumi’s giggliest loser idiot otokoyaku as her lady partner despite being BRAND NEW; the way she like inhaled Sora, and put firm hands on her with her fingers spread wide, and grabbed big deep handfuls of her skirt... Maybe all of Sora’s reactions were just straight up real. Favorite moments: their proper kiss; when they hook up in the Mambo scene and Sora slides her hand inside Kiki’s jacket to touch more of her actual back; Kiki being macho and gross and yelling at Sora to come here and Sora repeatedly replying hell no you come HERE until Kiki gives up (also notable: their perfect height difference, despite Sora in heels and Kiki in flats).

And SoraAnita, who put my sorry ass in this freezing Airbnb writing up this devastating show at 4 in the goddamn morning, who was so so so so good. It’s hard to look past the tight-top floof-bottom dresses and the adorable heeled sandals and the legs and the scene where she’s primping cross-legged in a chair wearing sheer thigh highs with garters and black lingerie that doesn’t even cover her butt which I don’t *at all* remember being in the movie... BUT, she was just so good. She made no attempt to change her voice (even though I’m pretty sure she could have) and it worked; I’m sure she spent much of rehearsal a mess but she was a fiery hot match for Kiki; she nailed all the feminine mannerisms and the bits of otokoyaku left over weren’t awkward but perfect Anita sass; the way she worked that tulle-laden skirt, her DANCING in Mambo and America; the way she big sister’d Madoka; and her final scene where the Jets assault her in the drug store, when she made me fully cry. I would hate myself forever and ever and ever if I hadn’t seen this. 

::Sigh:: It’s only a week but I kinda wish this had been my grand finale. 

[boldlysinning]

Chapter One: Open Air and Latinum Stars

A Star Trek OC fic, featuring my Ferengi characters through various steps of their childhood following them through the years to early adulthood. Each chapter shifts perspective and takes place a few years after the previous one.

Rating: T for language Word count: 5147 What to expect: Two Ferengi kiddos head out to the market on their own for the first time, because breaking the rules is fun! An overall lighthearted read with a small glimpse into a young girl’s struggle with society’s extreme limitations of her rights, and her painful awareness of it.

Spheina’s father liked his breakfast promptly on the table a half hour before he had to leave for work. For the last six years Spheina had been the one to prepare all the meals, not just breakfast, ever since her mother passed away leaving her as the only female in the house. It was a lot of responsibility for someone so young, starting at age seven to her current age of 13, but she performed it as dutifully (if begrudgingly) as she always had since her mother was alive. Because it took such a large chunk of time to make the meal she had to get up well before both her father and younger brother so everything would be ready in time. When the food was done and her father had showed up to eat she would go to wake her brother, then they would eat together while father studied the day’s stock projections. Usually the two children were still eating when father bid them goodbye and left for the day, leaving Spheina to care for her brother, Druhk, alone. On top of keeping the house in order that included helping him memorize the Rules of Acquisition.

Normally it was a mother’s job to help a boy with his Rules, but Mother wasn’t here and much to Spheina’s dismay her father had refused to remarry. This meant that she had, unfortunately, been forced to adopt the roll of a mother on top of the chores a daughter usually had. Adding housewife to the list, since there was no actual wife in the house now, and that made three hats she was forced to wear. Her head was big of course, but even all this was a tight fit, especially at her age.

It didn’t help it was hard to keep Druhk focused. Six year olds really didn’t enjoy sitting still and quizzing over stuffy old rules day in and day out. Especially when his older sister liked to read ahead and refresh her own knowledge regularly then got impatient when he couldn’t remember. Spheina would get annoyed, Druhk would whine, Spheina would insult, Druhk would whine louder and they’d have to start over. They would only get a little farther before she also tired of the experience and they would pretend to be space pirates instead (Father didn’t need to know that).

This particular morning Spheina had decided to implement a devilish idea she’d been planning for a few days, one that they would only be able to execute once their father left for the stock exchange. Oh, how very clever she felt, and she just knew Druhk would agree. Because he always agreed, a quality she had carefully cultivated over his short life. Father never let her do anything fun, so she would use Druhk as a vehicle to get away with more than she was normally able to. And he was always willing to make mischief with her, bless his scheming little soul. If she couldn’t use her cunning as she was meant to, she’d use him as a means to an end. After all, what else was family for?

With this idea brewing in her head and the table set she scurried to her brother’s room, passing Father in the hallway with barely a “Good morning.” She was just short enough to make it through the door without ducking, even at full sprint. She leapt from the threshold directly onto Druhk’s bed and smothered him in his blankets, cackling loudly. Druhk screeched like he did every morning (you would think he’d be used to this by now) and attempted to fight her off, though compared to her he had the strength of a fly. Spheina picked him up, blankets and all, and deposited him on the floor, prodding him with her foot as he tried to escape the tangle of fabric.

“If you’d get your lazy butt up sooner this wouldn’t happen,” she jeered, snickering as his little hands swatted her legs.

“Why can’t you just wake me up like a normal person!?” he squealed in protest, crawling out of the blankets and giving her a final swat before straightening his pajamas.

“Because I’m not normal and neither are you, grubworm,” she said, giving one of his ears a flick, which caused Druhk to renew his unhappy swatting.

Spheina managed to grab his arms and lift him off the floor enough to carry him, dangling and flailing like a beetle over a stew pot. Druhk attempted to kick her for a short time before he tired of the attack and hung limp, defeated and annoyed. She finally let him down and they finished walking the rest of the way to the table; Father didn’t like seeing Spheina jostle Druhk around so she had to keep their horseplay out of sight. After Spheina had chewed Druhk’s food they ate together with their father in silence. It seemed like ages before Father finally finished his reading and kissed them goodbye, off to work for the rest of the day. Druhk continued to eat and Spheina beamed at him, her plate already clean, sharp teeth bared in excitement to share her plan for the day.

Eventually he noticed her and paused, gaining a look of suspicion, “…You didn’t poison Father, did you?” his voice was as serious as a small child could manage.

“What? No! Where would you even get that idea!” Spheina tried to laugh it off, but she remembered some words said secretly in the heat of anger after Father got rid of an offworld book she had managed to acquire through the bribery of a neighbor boy. What had really pissed her off in the end was that she’d kissed his stupid ugly face for nothing. “No, not that,” she reaffirmed, “If I did that and he died we’d probably end up homeless. I’ll wait till you’re old enough to take care of me to do it.”

Spheina laughed but Druhk did not seem pleased with her joke. He gave her a wary look, “So why are you smiling so creepy, then?”

“Today we’re going to go to the marketplace,” she tried to say matter-of-factly, but her excitement got the better of her and she smiled again.

“Ha ha! Stupid, you can’t go outside alone, you’re a female. And I’m too little to go with you, just you and me,” Druhk shook his head, smiling. The look on his face said something along the lines of ‘You’re so dumb it’s cute’ and Spheina didn’t like it.

“Don’t you ever call me stupid again, dung breath, or I’ll poison you instead!” she said angrily, grabbing one of his lobes and twisting it until he screeched, “I get enough of that crap from Father, I don’t need you doing it, too! You can’t even remember 10 of the Rules of Acquisition and I can remember 100, so just shut up!”

“I’m sorry,” Druhk said, rubbing his mistreated ear, tears brimming in his hazel eyes, “Father tells me not to let you talk like that, about going outside the garden or acquiring things, because females aren’t supposed to. But I know you’re not stupid, Sphee…”

Spheina immediately regretted causing her brother the amount of pain she had, her anger cooled quickly and she pat Druhk’s head and sighed, “I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you. I should have known that was Father talking and not you,” she kissed his forehead and wiped the tears from his eyes, “I’m sorry I twisted your lobe. And you’re not stupid either. I couldn’t even read when I was six, so at least you’re farther than I was.”

Druhk sniffed loudly and wiped his nose on the sleeve of him pajama shirt. Spheina made a face, though she tried to repress her innate disgust. Sometimes children could be entirely too gross for her, especially when she was the one always cleaning up after them. This was why she had decided never to have any, not even if a man paid her father a million bars of gold-pressed latinum. Raising her brother had been enough and her father could posture and threaten all he wanted, but she knew even he wouldn’t be that cruel.

“Do you want to go to the marketplace or not?” she pressed, pushing those thoughts of the future aside- despite her young age they twisted her guts up with fear, though she’d never admit it.

With all his hurt passed Druhk gave her an incredulous look, “I still don’t’ know how you’re gonna do that. Soon as someone sees us they’ll make us come home and we’ll get in big trouble.”

“No, see, I found one of Father’s old cloaks, with a hood and everything! I’ll show you.” Spheina bounced from her chair and scurried to her room. Druhk protested loudly behind her as he tried to climb off his chair without help. “Just wait there!” she hollered over her shoulder. Maybe he really was stupid, he acted like he had to be within 5 feet of her every waking moment or he’d die. It was incredibly annoying, especially when she was trying to clean and kept tripping over him playing with his action figures exactly where she needed to step.

She made a direct route for her bare closet, stuffed mostly with old toys Father hadn’t gotten around to getting rid of, and dug around the back beneath the biggest container. The cloak came billowing out, unfurling in such a way that it blocked her line of sight as she turned to hurry back to the dining room. Unable to see anything in front of her for a few moments Spheina missed the little boy as he appeared like an uncloaking starship directly in her path and smacked full force into her. His head rammed sharply right into her stomach, knocking the wind out of her and causing her to fall back and ball up in a split second of terror as her lungs refused to work.

Thankfully her lungs recovered fairly quickly and she immediately untangled herself from the cloak and sat up, slamming her fists on the floor, “Damn it, Druhk, I told you to wait!” she shouted, baring her teeth, face flushed crimson red.

Druhk laid curled on the floor, holding his head and moaning pitifully, “Owwiiiee,” was all he managed in return.

“You’re fine! Stop being such a baby,” Spheina grunted. She tossed the cloak onto her bed and proceeded to scoop up her whining brother; she kissed his head where he had been holding his hands and hugged him, “Why didn’t you wait, I was coming right back.”

He clung to her like she’d been gone for a year, “I’m sorry, I don’t like to be alone, Sphee.”

Spheina rolled her eyes and suppressed a groan, “I know, but I was only in the other room!” she gritted her teeth, swaying back and forth to soothe him despite how annoyed she felt, “When you get older I can’t always be around, you know, you need to get used to that.”

Druhk only grumbled into her shoulder, apparently unwilling to concede that someday he’d have to actually go places without her. Spheina rolled her head back and gave a throaty groan of aggravation. She didn’t have time for this, there was only so much time in the day to go out before they risked getting caught by Father. “DO YOU WANT TO GO OUTSIDE OR NOT?” she yelled at the ceiling.

Druhk raised his head sharply and frowned at her, “I’m right here, stop yelling!”

She laughed derisively, resisting the urge to just drop him right on his rear. He’s only six, Spheina, she kept telling herself, You don’t want to be a slug in your next life, so behave. You can beat him up properly when he’s older if he keeps being annoying enough.

“Go pick out what you want to wear today,” she said darkly.

As their eyes locked Druhk must have sensed her patience wearing thin and when she put him down he sprinted from the room to do as he was told. This calmed her down a bit, it pleased her to still see a healthy bit of fear. She was the boss of at least one thing in her life for now and the longer that lasted the happier she’d be. The day he could rightfully tell her to sit down and be quiet was quickly approaching and she was dreading it. Thankfully, that day was not today.

Spheina then proceeded to run to her father’s room. The cloak wouldn’t be enough, she needed to wear clothes underneath as well or one stray breeze would completely blow their cover. His clothes were much bigger than she could reasonably fit into unaltered, so she grabbed a matching outfit and hurried back to her room. There she folded and pinned the extra fabric so that is looked a bit less clownishly huge on her bony frame and did the same with the cloak so it wouldn’t drag on the ground. As she completed the temporary modifications Druhk reappeared in the doorway, struggling to pull his shirt down. The collar had gotten stuck on his wide head and his arms waved wildly in the sleeves, unable to get good purchase. Spheina could hear muffled complaints but didn’t bother to listen as she pulled the shirt down for him. “Not bad, grubworm,” she said as she smoothed down the fabric.

When Druhk didn’t answer she cocked her head and raised a quizzical brow, only to find him staring at the clothes she was dressed in. “You look like a boy!” he cried out, somewhat distressed. She realized he’d never seen her in clothing before, not once in his short life.

“That’s the point, stupid,” Spheina said with a smile. She stood and cupped his face, lifting his chin so that he’d look her in the eye, “Listen carefully, alright, because if we get caught I’ll get into a lot of trouble.” She had to stress that she would be the one punished, not him- Druhk would be too scared to go along with her plan if he thought Father might yell at him. That and she wasn’t looking forward to the verbal lashing she would face if they were found out. Father knew full well Druhk would never break a rule so big and scary and convince Spheina to accompany him. Maybe in some strange alternate universe, but not here, meaning she was obviously the culprit.

“When we’re out there I’m not Sphee and I’m not you’re sister. We’ll get caught if you call me that. We’ve got to play pretend when we’re out there. So we’re going to pretend I’m your uncle. No one should ask our names, but if they do I’m Spad.” Druhk suddenly broke into a fit of giggles, apparently now feeling the intoxicating giddiness of doing something against the rules.

Spheina squished his cheeks and laughed as well, pressing her forehead to his and furrowing her brows mischievously, “Sh, sh! Listen. We’re going to buy a book or two, but you’ve got to do the talking because I can’t fake a man’s voice at all. If someone asks why, you have to tell them I’m sick and can’t talk. Tell them that’s why I have the hood up, too. Not that I’m wearing the hood because I can’t talk, but because I’m sick. Uh, you get it, right?”

“Yes!” Druhk said confidently.

“Good!” Spheina turned, grabbed the cloak, and dramatically twirled it around her shoulders, feeling charged with power as she clasped it in place at her throat. “And the illusion is complete,” she proclaimed, putting the hood up and grinning.

Druhk bounced excitedly and gave her a toothy smile before suddenly squeaking and pulling on the hem of his shirt, “How are we going to buy something? We don’t have any latinum!”

Spheina puffed out her chest and threw back the hood, “I stole some from Father!” she proclaimed proudly, “Not much, just a few slips every so often so he wouldn’t notice- I bet he thought he just miscounted. I hid them in my pillowcase.”

She then proceeded to walk to her bed and turn her pillow up-side down so that the slips of latinum came tumbling out in a clatter. Druhk cried out in amazement and climbed onto the bed, eyes sparkling, “There’s so much!”

“Not really that much- here,” she separated a small pile for him, “count that one and we’ll see how much there really is.”

In the end they came up with 25 slips and Spheina dutifully poured them into her pockets and took Druhk by the hand and led him to the living room, “We can’t stay out too long, I’ve got chores, but it’ll be worth it. You ready?”

“Yes!” Druhk said excitedly, squeezing her hand and taking the lead, tugging her towards the front door.

Spheina felt her confidence slowly wither away the closer they got to the door, and when it slid open she frozen in her tracks. She’d been outside before, of course, but only in the garden flanked by high walls where no one could see her. She hadn’t been out farther than that and sometimes even going to the gate was an intimidating feat. But Druhk had been outside the walls a few times now- sometimes Father took him places and during those times Spheina seethed with jealousy and bitter anger. Those feelings weren’t so much directed at Druhk as they were at her situation in general, he couldn’t help he was the son and got the rights that entailed. Even so, as much as she wanted to escape the cage of her life just for a short while the idea of the world outside was as frightening as it was alluring.

“What’s wrong?” Druhk’s voice broke her out of her frozen state of panic.

She looked at him and smiled nervously, “I’ve never been outside the garden, remember?”

“So? It’s fun out there,” he said, looking perplexed. It must be nice to be so young and innocent. And male. Nary a care in the world about where you could or could not go, because there were very few places you couldn’t go. It was hard not to envy him, but it wasn’t his fault.

“So… I’m… going to look pretty stupid without shoes, but I guess we can say my feet need to breathe as part of my illness. I don’t know, maybe no one will notice if I keep my cloak down. I need to be a sick old man after all,” to avoid more nervous rambling she hunched over and made a grumpy face, jutting out her jaw so her bottom teeth protruded from between her lips. She grunted and squinted her eyes as she leaned in close to Druhk, breathing heavily, “How’s this?”

He shrieked with laughter and pushed her face away, immediately causing her to lose character and laugh as well. Caught up in the absurdity she pushed her fear aside and hurried forward, over the threshold and out into the muggy open air. Stray droplets of rain sprinkled here and there and Spheina turned her face up to meet them as Druhk lead her by the hand to the exit gate at the side of the house. The garden was conquered, next she’d conquer the street, and then the market, some day she’d conquer Ferenginar, too. At least in this moment it felt like she would.

Spheina put up her hood and they exited the gate, only to stop again as Druhk paused and looked around. “What is it?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t remember how to get to the market,” he replied, looking uncertain.

After admonishments, ear flicks, and a short bout of smacking from both sides the two found someone and Druhk asked directions; they were out one slip because of it, but Spheina knew information wasn’t free. It wasn’t as far as she had thought it would be, but relying entirely on Druhk’s guidance when he was still fairly illiterate was difficult. She dreaded being led somewhere where she might be found out, or to the wrong location again and again until their small window of time had run out. However, the fact that she was outside surrounded by men who weren’t her family was exhilarating. She could have been anywhere, surrounded by anyone, aliens or Ferengi, and it would have felt the same. She liked the feeling of the wet stone under her feet and the sound of chatter and barter. She wished she could be here every day.

It took them some time to find a store which sold books of any kind, and once they arrived they stood outside the door a moment before Spheina realized in cost money to enter. “Robbery,” she hissed, but the Rules of Acquisition were beginning to make more sense.

“How much is it, Druhk?” she whispered.

“Um…”

“Oh, for- Look at the collection slot.”

“UM-”

“URG!” she lifted the rim of the hood slightly so she could get a quick look and found there to be no indication of the price, “Sneaky…” she said with a hint of admiration.

She pulled a slip from her pocket and inserted it into the collection box. After waiting a moment and finding the door still firmly in place she inserted another. If it didn’t open after two she wasn’t giving this leech anymore before even seeing the merchandise, they’d find somewhere else. Luckily the door finally slid open and she and Druhk quickly walked inside.

There was a Ferengi sitting behind a circular desk in the middle of the room, all around there were hundreds of books, both Ferengi and offworld, in glass cases with tiny collection boxes below the doors, apparently someone would need to provide a slip to get the case open. The man behind the desk welcomed them but Spheina waved him off and grunted as much like an old man as she could manage. Druhk picked up on the signal effortlessly, “Uh, my uncle just wants to look for a bit.”

“Hmph, take your time,” the man replied, seeming somewhat annoyed at the cold reception.

Spheina aimed to do just that, she went to the nearest bookcase and leaned in close, holding the rime of her hood up so that she could see. She kept her sight low so that she wouldn’t mistakenly lift her head too much and reveal an ear, or straighten her back too much and look a bit too healthy. She moved through the shelves slowly and at one point she caught the proprietor at the desk watching her suspiciously. Given her experience with her father and the boys she tempted for favors from the gate, suspicion was a normal state of being for Ferengi. It made her smile, though she hid it so she didn’t actually merit suspicion.

After about five minutes Druhk began to squirm at her side, apparently getting bored. She prodded his side with a stealthy finger and made him giggle and squirm more. “Patience,” she whispered.

When her eyes returned to the bookshelf they seemed drawn to a familiar spine, it was as if it suddenly leapt out at her now. Without hesitation she took a slip from her pocket and inserted it into the collection box. The glass door of the bookshelf quietly whooshed open and Spheina gently slid the book from between the others. Seeing the title her stomach felt like it was full of fluttering moths. It was the same book, the one her father had gotten rid of- not just the same edition, but the very same volume she had had in her possession. She flipped open the front cover and saw the messy scrawl from the neighbor boy, Thanks for the kiss. She nearly laughed, but held her giddiness in as she closed the book and grabbed Druhk’s hand, tugging it lightly so he’d lead her to the desk.

He did just that and she placed the book on the desk and patted it quickly with a quiet grunt to signify this was the one she wanted. “Ah, a fine volume. Twenty slips,” the man said pleasantly.

Spheina shook her head and leaned down to Druhk, whispering almost inaudibly, “Tell him I know it’s used and I won’t give him any more than seven.”

“Uncle knows it’s used and won’t give you any more than seven,” Druhk repeated resolutely.

“Fifteen,” the man countered, firm but still pleasant.

Spheina snorted and whispered to Druhk again. “Ten and not a slip more,” Druhk repeated with as intimidating a voice as a child could muster, pointing a finger at the proprietor for emphasis.

The man laughed heartily, “Deal. You’ll make quite a businessman when you’re old enough,” he said to Druhk as Spheina placed ten slips on the desk and picked up the book. She looked at Druhk warmly and pat his head, she was very proud of him, he’d played his part well. She whispered to him once more and he smiled at the man, “Uncle thanks you.”

“Have a nice day,” the man said, sweeping the slips front the table top into his palm as they turned and walked away.

The door remained in place as they stood and waited for it to open. Finally Spheina growled and took two slips from her pocket, placing them in the collection box. Damn, if Druhk ever got his own store (or maybe if things changed and she could own one, a lovely fantasy) they’d have to implement this clever idea. It was pouring outside now and they shuffled a little faster back home, at times the coast was clear of other Ferengi and they ran full tilt, as fast as they could.

When they made it home Spheina could barely contain her joy as they entered the garden. She released Druhk’s hand and threw her hood back, letting the rain drench her face and laughing as they came to the threshold of the door. She unclipped the heavy waterlogged cloak and let it fall to the floor and Druhk came running in behind her, flinging water droplets around as he tried to shake off the rain. Spheina placed the book on one of the tables with decorative sculptures and grabbed her brother, lifted him up, hugged him close. She spun around holding him tight and laughing until her head was light, and he laughed just as breathlessly while he clung to her. Finally they toppled to the floor, dizzy, and Spheina thought she saw stars drifting in front of her eyes as she looked at the ceiling.

They’d done it. She was drunk on the rain and the air and the sound of people and she wouldn’t forget that for a long while. And Druhk had played his part flawlessly, the best little accomplice she could have asked for. She kissed his head and squeezed him in a hug, then sat up and kissed his face until he pushed her away, but his giggling never stopped. She had cleaning to do, the clothes to dry out, the book, latinum and cloak to hide again, lunch and dinner to make, but it all seemed like a lighter burden after their successful adventure.

***

That night Spheina quietly tip-toed through the dark house. Her father was asleep and so was Druhk, but she stealthily slunk into his room and climbed onto his bed. She patted his shoulder gently and whispered to him and he stirred with a quiet groan. She picked him up and he clung to her even while half asleep as she carried him outside. There was a lattice on the opposite side of the house from the gate and after shifting Druhk to her back Spheina climbed it and slipped gingerly onto the roof, careful not to cause the ceiling inside to shift too much and risk waking Father.

She sat down and deposited a sleepy Druhk on her lap, all the while working to wake him. “What? Why are we here?” he whined with a tinge of grouchiness.

“Did you notice it wasn’t raining?” she said, petting his head.

“So?”

“So, look up.”

Druhk rubbed his eyes and turned them skyward where she was already looking. Above them the sky had cleared up enough to see past the nearly permanent ceiling of gray. The stars blazed through the thin wisps of clouds, and oddly they seemed even brighter than she remembered. She glanced down to find Druhk staring with mouth agape; he’d never actually been up late enough to see the stars, especially since the sky was usually thick with clouds. She rested her chin on his head and looked at his awestruck face with affectionate amusement. “Before you were born, when it was just me, I came up here a lot when I was supposed to be asleep,” Spheina said, “Sometimes I’d watch the sun go down, or just look out at the other houses and just wish I could go out there. But now I know that the stars are the only place I could go if I want to do whatever I want.”

“There’re so many,” Druhk said, leaning back and forcing Spheina to lift her chin and glaze up again.

“Do you remember Rule of Acquisition number 75?” she asked, locking in on the stars.

“Um… not really,” he said, sounding ashamed.

“It’s ‘Home is where the heart is, but the stars are made of latinum.’ You’ll get it, don’t worry,” she said, giving his head a reassuring kiss.

“Are they really made of latinum? The stars, I mean,” he asked, clearly amazed by the concept.

“No, I think they’re made of fire or something. I mean if they were really made of latinum they’d all be gone, because we’d have mined them centuries ago.”

Druhk nodded in understanding, “You want to go to the stars? Can you do that?”

“They say I can’t, but I will whether they want me to or not. Someday,” she turned her eyes to the sky again, “The galaxy’s too big and we live too long for me to be stuck on one planet making tubegrubs for Father or some other man forever.”

“I’ll go with you,” Druhk said matter-of-factly, “I bet there’s a lot of profit up there.”

“Yeah. Probably more than we could ever earn. And I like that idea. We’ll go together and make more profit than Father ever did. He’ll see he was wrong. They all will.”

“We’ll be the richest Ferengi in the galaxy!” Druhk exclaimed, his hands balling into fists and lifting towards the sky.

“Definitely!” she said, clasping her hands over Druhk’s fists and grinning, “We’ll make our own home in the stars somewhere, so it’s not too far from the latinum.”

[junker-town]

A short track relay of writers explain short track relay speed skating

This idea makes sense, OK? Just bear with us.

To capture the brilliance and madness of the Olympics short track speed skating relay event, three SB Nation writers are going to re-create the format of short track speed skating relay in a blog. At least we’re going to try to do that.

Whitney: I turned on the men’s short track 5000m relay qualifying race right as it kicked off, which did not afford me any buffer time to understand what the heck was going on on the ice other than that they were skating an arbitrary distance and that there were multiple people involved and that there was butt shoving.

Yes, butt shoving. Here, you can see it in action:

It took until about 10 laps in — those laps tick by fast!! — for me to understand the way teammates were waiting on the infield (in...ice?) of the track to switch out with their racing counterparts on the track, and the way they were strategizing when to pass and when to chill out and continue trailing other teams.

It’s wild. There are people skating outside competing and inside gearing up. (Much like my colleagues Nate and Caroline are right now doing the blogging equivalent of warming up right now.) It’s tough, but once I understood the situation and who the better teams were, I was ALL IN.

*** BUTT SHOVE ***

Caroline: Short track speed skating is arguably the sport I would choose out of ALL the winter Olympic sports if I could pick to be amazing at something. On its own (as in relatively normal racing with only a manageable four people on the ice), speed skating is a beautiful work of art as durably spandex’d athletes look super casual as they round the rink. NOW MULTIPLY THAT BY FOUR.

We’re talking 16 power-quad’d men (or women, depending) running a three-man weave on steroids WHILE WEARING GIANT DANGEROUS BLADES ON THEIR FEET. Somehow, it turns into a gorgeous ballet that could should be set to something by Tchaikovsky.

*** BUTT SHOVE ***

Nate: There is beauty in this sport, yes, and danger, and spandex. Dear lord, spandex. But it’s also madness. There are so many skaters going, inside and outside the track, around and around, all in skin-tight spandex and helmets, all looking more or less the same — it’s hysteria. Meanwhile, there’s one judge in the middle who’s supposedly keeping track of all this, and I’m saying right now: There is zero chance that judge in the middle has any idea what’s going on.

Here is my question: What’s to stop anyone from cheating?! If I’m a short-track speed skating team, I am absolutely having my best skater sneak in and skip ahead of a weaker teammate. Or am I? [Coyly winks at the IOC, mouths ‘You’ll never catch me, COPPERS!’] At least I think it would be easy to cheat. I don’t really know. Related: I discovered this sport existed like 45 minutes ago.

*** BUTT SHOVE ***

Whitney: It took us not long at all to get into a cheating conversation but honestly that’s probably why I loved trying to figure out what the heck was going on at all times. There’s a thin enough line between “I think I understand this sport’s whole deal” and “wow there is some real chicanery that could be happening here and I could have no idea because they’re moving so fast” and also I just re-discovered this sport after four years of completely forgetting speed skating exists.

The excitement that comes from not reaaaaally knowing what in the high heavens is happening on a small patch of ice is a unique kind of excitement though. It’s all swinging limbs and butt shoving and making possibly-but-I’m-not-sure illegal contact when passing other skaters. If I’m being honest there was also a lot of WHAT IF SOMEONE CUTS SOMEONE ELSE’S FINGER OFF WITH A SKATE OH GOD (turns out they wear Kevlar under their spandex to avoid exactly that) AND OH GOD WHAT IF SOMEONE CUTS SOMEONE ELSE’S FACE OFF WITH A SKATE OH GODDDDDDD happening in my kitchen.

***BUTT SHOVE***

Caroline: The first 20 laps of the ungodly amount go pretty casually, or as casual as one can be with world-class athletes propelling themselves in circles in extremely close vicinity to other world-class athletes. As the laps start to dwindle, the drama skyrockets. The jockeying for position happens in the blink of an eye.

How can the people getting butt shoved know where to get to be butt shoved? How much training does that part take? How do you train without a full 12 other people there to ensure maximum chaos?

There’s this incredible balance in speed skating relays. Slight “hey, buddy, I’m here” touches are utilized throughout, but those quickly turn into “HEY, PAL, THIS IS MY LANE” in an instant. Success and blade-filled wipeouts are separated by literal millimeters of space.

***BUTT SHOVE***

Nate: Caroline brings up a wonderful point about the balance and grace needed for this sport, but here’s something else I think we all need to realize: Teams are penalized if you knock over another competitor. Which leads me to my next way to, uh, let’s say gain an advantage in this sport. You get me in a short-track speed skating race, I’m channeling my decades of soccer experience and diving like you’ve never seen before. You even tap me, I’m going down like a sack of bricks, arms flailing to the heavens. I’ll scream. I don’t give a shit. You steer clear or I’m going down, and trust me, as someone who got questionable penalty decisions for years -- I’m getting the call more often than not.

You may say that’s against the spirit of short-track speed skating, to which I reply: I learned about this sport 45 minutes ago. That’s what makes me so dangerous to the world of short track speed skating. I have no respect for its honor and traditions. I’m out here for glory. I’m clawing tooth and nail. I’ll fall down and clutch my ankle if you even breathe near me. I’ll go full Arjen Robben. I’m getting you DQ’ed, and I’m leading our team to greatness. YOU’LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE, IOC.

*** BUTT SHOVE ***

Whitney: Even after all of those laps of watching them go around and around and around and around and around and around and around and passing someone and go around and around and around and around it didn’t get any less exciting to watch them dip and turn and hug the corners as they tried to secure the top two qualifying spots. My mind was going a million miles a minute just watching them like

CAN THE USA DO IT?

NO THEY CAN NOT

BUT THAT’S OKAY

HUNGARY SEEMS NICE TOO

WHENEVER I DO A COUNTRIES OF THE WORLD QUIZ I ALWAYS REMEMBER HUNGARY SO I COULD BE A FAN OF THEM FOR SURE. LET’S BE FRIENDS, HUNGARY, I’M VERY LOVABLE

OH DAMN THAT ONE GUY FROM JAPAN JUST ATE IT

I COULD STILL GO FOR A TACO RIGHT NOW

Do you think any of these skaters are allowed to eat tacos ever?

Oh no, now I’m sad.

Aw man ... I bet their butt shoves are so amazing because they don’t ever eat tacos.

OH GOSH FOUR LAPS LEFT HAVE TO STOP THINKING ABOUT TACOS

WE’RE COMING DOWN TO THE WIRE AND EVEN THOUGH IT’S QUALIFYING THIS IS SO EXCITING AND NO ONE HAS EVEN LOST A FINGER TODAY THAT SEEMS LIKE A WIN FOR EVERYONE EVEN THE PEOPLE THAT LOST.

What a wild ride that all was. Can’t wait to watch another race or two of short track relay, continue to freak out, and then forget about it just enough before the next Olympics that I get just as absurdly excited about this manic, balletic sport the next time I watch.

***BUTT SHOVE***

Caroline: There is no better finishing move than the toe jut in speed skating (I’ll even allow for long-track speed skating to be counted here, even though they’re so dramatically different...nobody is wiping out and taking three others with them in long track). Anyway, back to short track relays ... Can you imagine if they used a baton? What a nightmare. What if one got dropped. What would that do to the blades? Sorry, staying on topic.

Here are the racing finishes ranked:

Speed Skating

[open space to illustrate how good speed skating’s finish is]

Track and Field

Bikes

Cars

The lean forward dive in track and field is a very solid finish. It’s got nothing on the sassy skate-first finish we got to see today. Athletes go from power skating to super casual leans in a matter of seconds, inching their blades over the line. Every close race has to be examined with a freeze-frame that would make Zapruder envious. Short track speed skating is the best, and I hate that I forget it exists every four years.

***BUTT SHOVE***

Nate: The ends to these races are beautiful, but I’d argue what’s even cooler is how they hold that toe point pose right through the conclusion of the race, and then stick their hands up if they won. The end of every race should have Joe Jackson’s “Steppin’ Out” playing in the arena and the skaters just point down to their skate and be like oh shit yeah you saw that. My toe won that thing.

Considering I’ve taken every turn to desecrate this sport, let’s just shoot the moon here: We need more celebrations and grandstanding. I’d take off my skate and run it in a slashing motion across my neck while pointing at my competitor. After I fell in a blatant dive to earn my team a trip to the finals, I’d make horrified, pained faces at the center judge and then wink at the person who “tripped me” when they got penalized. I would be the enfant terrible of short-track speed skating, and you would feel my wrath. NOW POINT YOUR TOE, NATE. YES. ACROSS THE LINE. WE DID IT.