#She’s so high strung all the time. She acts like the building is two seconds from exploding pretty regularly

[corset]

When you get to work and clock in and you’re immediately accosted by your boss

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Ficlet: Nothing changed

It was unnaturally cold for this time of year. That is what the crimson heroine thought to herself as she dashed across the rooftops in the city of love.

She landed on the roof that was their usual meet up point.

"Just in time My Lady." Chat noir purred. "Looks like you are keeping your promise about not missing our patrols."

Ladybug wished she could be in a happier mood. She was questioning whether she should even tell him about what she did.

"Ladybug? You in there?" Chat noir inquired. "I called you my Lady again and you didn't correct me?"

His question snapped Ladybug back to the present.

"Huh? Oh, right sorry." She apologized.

"A lot on your mind?"

"You could say that."

"Do you want to talk about it? Or is it guardian stuff?"

Ladybug decided she would tell him after patrol tonight, she didn't want the mood to be soured over this.

She takes his hand.

"We can talk later. But first, Paris needs protecting." She smiled sweetly. The cat felt a faint blush on his cheeks. But the feeling faded when he realized she had taken off.

"Oh! So thats how you want to play." Chat noir smiled.

The two teens patrolled the city from above. They made sure to protect several food stands... in case an akuma was Hangry. Making time to take photos. They even comforted a girl after a bad date, preventing an akuma in the making.

It had been awhile since Chat noir was able to enjoy a patrol with Ladybug like this. She wasn't so high strung trying to force herself to have fun or so quick to get out. It was like nothing had changed. Perhaps Ladybug had finally found a good balance, he hoped that was the case.

Though as soon as it started, the patrol was at an end. Chat noir wishing it could have went on forever.

"Well sadly while the night is young, we must part." Chat noir acted out like a thespian. Using over dramatic hand gestures to exemplify his 'Heartbreak.'

"Silly kitty." Ladybug let out a sigh and light giggle. Oh how it was music to his ears.

"Well good night bugaboo. I will dream of you." He teased.

Ladybug's expression went grim.

"Wait a second."

Chat noir stopped himself from leaping.

"Yes My... yes Ladybug?"

Chat noir could tell that the mood had shifted. He had gotten better at reading her emotions and it was clear she was going to say something serious. He put away the mental clown nose.

"I... I need to tell you something important." Ladybug spoke. Her words holding much more weight with each passing second.

"Look Ladybug... if this is too much you don't have to tell me. I know that..."

"No, I need to tell you this. Even if it hurts." Ladybug interrupted. Her voice shook in that moment.

The air blew much colder to the cat.

"Okay, what is it?"

Chat noir prepared for some sort of verbal punch. Whatever it was, he was sure he could take it.

"I told someone my identity."

He was wrong. It was like he had the air knocked out of him. That couldn't be right. There was no way she would.... right?

"I'm sorry Ladybug. I think I must of misheard what you said. Cause it sounded like you said you told someone your secret identity." He tried to make light of it. His body shaking as he forced a Cheshire grin.

"You didn't. I told someone who I am under the mask."

His heart felt like it was dropped off the roof of the building they were standing on.

"You mean someone forced you to tell them? Cause we can track them down and fix it."

"I told someone, of my own free will, who I am. I know that comes as a shock. You are right to feel mad."

The cat hero looked at her, his expression became unreadable.

"Mad? You think I would be mad about this?" His voice trying to so hard to maintain calm when every part of his heart feels like he is being stabbed. "I am hurt, that you would think that."

"It wasn't something I did to hurt you. I just felt the pressure of everything... and I couldn't.... I couldn't bear it alone." Ladybug answered. She was not happy with this. She knew chat noir would feel hurt, but she never expected this.

Chat noir took a deep breath. He would ease himself. He needed to be rational. Ladybug was being honest with him. She could have just kept it from him. He needed to understand how hurt she must feel about all of this. Even if this felt like his heart was being dissected, he would not make Ladybug feel worse about this. He would try to be understanding.

"Okay... I understand. Fu had Marianne. Its okay that you would tell someone."

Ladybug eased a bit, the cat seemed to be coming around.

"It wasn't something I wanted to do. I know how much this must sting hearing this."

This felt so condescending to the black cat. And that was the last straw.

"No. Not at all. I mean sure I want nothing more in life then to know who my closest friend and crime fighting partner is. And sure, I completely hated the rule with a passion that could rival the desire shadow moth has for our miraculous. But I stuck to it because, hey, it was for the sake of Paris and it made sure we could stay safe from the crazy super villain. It made sense, and even though I wanted to tell one person who I love who I am, I couldn't risk it. Even though it ruined the relationships I had, I endured. I did it because, Ladybug was counting on me. I did it because even though it was killing me internally, Ladybug was bearing the same burden! It was us against the world! I could endure it with her! I guess that was a lie too!"

Chat noir took a breath.

"Chatton..."

"Im not done." He snapped. His smile had vanished, showing a nasty snarl.

Ladybug felt herself step back. The ferocity of that statement triggered a long suppressed fear. Something she wished she would never see again. The reason why she didn't want him to find out her identity. She saw the anger of Chat Blanc.

Chat noir noticed the fear on ladybug's face, and the tears forming in her eyes. He had gone too far. His anger replaced with horror at what he had done.

"Wait... Ladybug... That was too far."

"No... you're right to be mad. I broke your trust. I forced you to agree to things you hated and then I broke the rule I set. I just... I couldn't take it. So I know I am being selfish to expect you to take it in stride. You don't deserve this. I would understand if you hate me and want to quit..."

Chat noir hugged her. Catching the red heroine off guard.

"This isn't your fault. Yes I'm mad. I am also hurt and feel betrayed... but I don't hate you."

"You don't?"

"I couldn't hate you Ladybug. Its not like I've been the perfect partner. I've screwed up too. But you still want me around right?" Chat noir answered.

"I don't think I could be ladybug without you."

Chat noir felt his emotions ease.

"And I couldn't be Chat noir without you."

He releases the hug.

They stood in silence for a few minutes. Both taking calming breaths. They wanted to ensure they were both able to continue talking without a potential akuma risk.

"So, you told someone because you needed someone to talk to because being the guardian along with other stuff was too much for you to handle quietly. " Chat noir asked calmly.

"Yes, that is what happened."

"It was better you told someone then just suffered alone. I wanted to be your support... but I understand that its dangerous right now if I know who you are and vice versa." Chat noir continued.

"I know its hard to accept..."

"No no, lets not try and ease it. I will accept it over time. I just want you to know that its okay that you did that. I want you to know that despite how much it hurt, I am glad you told me now. Finding this out... that might have hurt so much worse. It would have felt like nothing changed from back then."

Ladybug knew he was referring to how master fu had kept her from tell him about things. How he was left in the dark? She hated that period of her life.

"When this is over, when Hawkmoth is done. I swear we can reveal our identities to each other. We can even go catch a movie."

Chat noir smiled a bit.

"I would like that."

In the end, Chat noir was still hurt by this, but he knew how to take a bit of pain. He would move past it, he and Ladybug would still be partners. He still love her dearly. Nothing changed.

[xxxsweetdreamzxxx]

warnings/tags: dom!hwasa sub!reader, wlw, smut, angst, slight fluff, fanfic; cursing, fingering

summary: your girlfriend plans to strip you out of the dress you wore to dinner

word count: 1.3k

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there's not too many wlw kpop fics, so I wanted to make one featuring one of my favorite ladies. Enjoy!!

P. S. thank you so so soooooo much for the recognition on my last fic, it means a lot :3

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Turning the corner around the block, you saw your girlfriend standing outside the restaurant, grinning and waving in your direction. Rushing ahead of your family, you ran into up to her and into her arms. 

"I've missed you." you said sweetly, pulling away. 

She laughed. "It's only been a few days silly."

"Too long." You replied, pouting at her as you grabbed her hand. "You look amazing."

Her tan skin contrasted beautifully against the skin-tight yellow minidress she wore. Her dark hair fell down to her chest, slight waves blowing a bit in the breeze. The sun setting behind her only made her glow even more. She looked like a sun goddess. 

"You don't look half bad yourself." she said with a wink, sizing you up. Her compliments always made you blush, no matter how frequent they were. 

You quickly changed the subject, glancing around. "Where's your family?" 

"Already inside." she nodded towards the entrance to the restaurant, where your parents had passed you and were walking in. "They wanted to make sure there was enough seating." 

She began to lead you towards the doors by your hand, and once inside you fell into step behind both of your parents as a waiter lead you to an outdoor seating area in the back. The lighting inside was dim, the furnishings fancy and polished. This was a special night for your families to meet each other, and you couldn't think of a better place for it. 

As you made your way through the restaurant, you could feel Hwasa's eyes still on you. Your green dress was also tight around your body, the straps barely hanging on to your shoulders. The skirt was short but looser than hers, swaying around your legs as you walked.

With a playful smile, she took her pointer finger and slipped it under a strap, tugging at it slightly. "Did you do this on purpose?" She whispered in your ear. 

You turned visibility red even in the dark. "Not now babe!"

She smirked a little more. "Then later?"

You were sure you looked absolutely mortified, grateful your parents didn't seem to notice. "I suppose..."

"Kay!" She said happily, leaning away from your ear.

                  .•°•. _ .•°•. _ .•°•. _ .•°•.

Dinner seemed to be going great. Your parents were getting along, the mood was perfect. Nobody sat around you, so it was quiet except for the sounds of your voices. Small yellow orbs of light were strung above the deck, lighting up the night's darkness. The white tablecloth draped over the large round table, reaching the floor. Thankfully it concealed everything underneath, including Hwasa's hand squeezing your thigh. 

You weren't sure if she did it on purpose, though it wouldn't surprise you. She kept her eyes on the people around the table, still focusing on what they were saying. But every now and again, she would tighten her grip on your thigh as if to say: 'Don't you dare forget about later.' It was hard to concentrate and act normal with her touching you in such a way.

Just when you thought you couldn't go any longer without scolding her, everyone decided it was best to leave - it was nearing ten. Standing up from the table forced her to remove her hand from your leg and return it to your hand. You said your goodbyes to your family, then went outside and followed her to where she'd parked her car. 

Your mind raced with all the possibilities that could happen once you got to her place. Your heart started to beat a little faster in anticipation. The drive seemed to last forever, even though it was only a few minutes. She pulled into the parking deck of her apartment building, dark and empty of people. Parking in her space, you both unbuckled your seat belts. You turned to look at her, she was smiling in your direction. That stupid playful grin she'd been wearing off and on again the whole night returned. 

Leaning over the center console, you followed her lead, as she kissed you deeply you kissed back. She began to quicken the pace, your breathing becoming choppy and fast. Just as you began to reach for her dress, she pulled away, shaking her head. 

"Upstairs." She commanded. 

You gulped and nodded. Exiting the car, you both headed for the stairway and practically ran up the stairs. Once reaching her apartment door, she unlocked it and you followed her to the bedroom, not even stopping to turn on the lights. 

She barely let you come inside before turning around and slamming you into her bedroom door, forcing it closed with your body. You groaned slightly at the impact. She looked at you intensely, sending a shiver down your spine. 

"You have no idea how hard I've had to resist." She growled. 

She crashed her lips onto yours, this time pushing past them with her tongue. Her fingers went back under your dress straps, peeling them off for good this time. She let the whole thing fall to the floor, revealing your light blue lingerie you'd worn just for her. A darker spot on your panties revealed the dampness already pooling between your legs. You reached for her dress, but again she stopped you, pulling it off herself. It didn't matter how many times you saw her like this, she was just as stunning as the first time. Her lacey black underwear set turned you on even more. 

She pushed you off the door and towards the bed, setting you down on it beneath her. You began to grind up against her, matching the pace she set. Your frequent kisses left you panting, struggling to pull in air. You reached to pull off her panties, and she surprisingly allowed it.

The last layer of fabric between you - your panties - was quickly removed by her and discarded somewhere behind her. She wasted no time in tracing her finger around your hole, causing you to moan in pleasure. She further teased your folds by running her finger up and down them. 

"Hwasa... oh, fuck." You breathed, arching your back. 

Suddenly, she slipped two fingers into your dripping heat, stretching you perfectly. You gripped the bedsheets between your fingers as she slid them in and out, wet noises filling the bedroom along with your moans. You could feel your high approaching fast. 

"I'm going to c- cum." You managed to whine. 

At this she sped up her actions, sticking in a third digit and pushing all three in as far as she could, stimulating your sensitive walls. You bucked up your hips when you came on her hand, riding out your orgasm. She pulled out her fingers, licking you off them.

Her hands then fell on your hips, guiding them up to grind against her own. Your clit slid easily past hers, lubricated by your combined wetness. She tilted you at slightly different angles, trying to get the best one. Her moans joined yours as you hit the right spot, the sensation sending trembles through your body. She sped up her thrusts at that angle, her breathing becoming choppier and her legs shaking slightly as she came over you, you following seconds after. You rid out your orgasms together, slowing down the pace until she climbed off, laying down beside you.

She intertwined her fingers with yours, squeezing your hand. Sighing happily, grinning up at the ceiling. "I'm so lucky."

"No me." You countered. "I get to be with the most beautiful girl in the world."

"Cheesy." She teased, poking your cheek. 

You shook your head. "But true."

She smiled a warm smile at you, making your heart soar. "I love you y/n." 

[vegalocity]

Not realizing they’re holding hands till someone points it out with Cyberhunt. (I actually came up with the ship so it makes me happy seeing it being used) - Pixel Anon

Affection meme

37. Not realizing they’re holding hands until somebody points it out.

Pixel you made a good ass ship, and you know me, i’m always in it for the rare pairs

--

After… well… after everything with the Lady Bone Demon, the clan didn’t quite… come out of it fully intact. Through some small miracle they’d gotten their queen back from ‘being magic ghost soup’ as the monkey boy had so ‘tactfully’ put it, but she’d… changed. She didn’t quite loom as large as she once did. Her presence was diminished. She was shaken.

They all were. Though Huntsman was sure the Spirit realm that he, Syntax, and Goliath had been trapped in wasn’t near as rough on them as… whatever nightmare the Queen had lived through was, none of them had come out of it unscathed.

He was man enough to admit that his paranoia had gotten considerably worse upon returning to the physical world, and Goliath was already a quiet guy, but he was even more so now.

And Syntax had started sleepwalking. Nobody was really sure if it was just a result of the stress, or something about his human hindbrain acting up more, but it was quickly starting to grate on Huntsman’s already shot nerves. While awake the scientist never seemed to remember enough of whatever dreams he was having to make any of this make any sense, the most he usually could recall was the vague notion of looking for something, or perhaps being lost. Just being aware of the need to find something, be it a place, thing, or even a person (though that option grated on him a bit personally) and not knowing how to get there. And trying to get him to talk while asleep had been a total failure, as he usually wouldn’t answer any questions at all. And when he could prompt him to answer, it was just all that nonsense dream schlock that everybody mumbles their way through anyway.

Usually the best thing to do was simply to lead him back to wherever they’d all holed up for the night so he didn’t hurt himself and if he refused to settle back down, just keep him from getting out of the perimeter Huntsman had set up.

Unfortunately tonight seemed to be one of those nights.

He was just checking the back entrance to the abandoned building they’d currently been sleeping in when he heard a shuffle. He stiffened, prepping for battle, but the sound was followed up with a thud, and then a familiar grumble and Huntsman bit back a groan.

Syntax was about halfway between Huntsman’s position and where he and the others were supposed to be sleeping. As usual, he didn’t seem to notice him as he attempted to keep going down the hall, and as usual he didn’t wake up when Huntsman grabbed him and started tugging him back in the direction of the main room. The quiet only every so often interrupted by soft snores or the occasional mumble that sounded something not dissimilar to ‘home’.

And it… was aggravating. It was aggravating and annoying and frustrating and not at all endearing to see someone as high strung and stressed out as Syntax all soft and sleepy without having to also be covered in engine oil or slumped over a worktable.

Coming back into the Main room, Huntsman noted with only a scrap of annoyance both the Queen and Goliath had either been awake, or woke up from Syntax… likely ramming headfirst into a wall granted that thump earlier.

“A little help would have been appreciated.” he spoke dryly. He was too fond of Goliath to have much ire toward him, and there’s a lot of things he’d never do that he’d do before he disrespected the queen, so he suppressed that urge and instead led Syntax back over to ‘his area’

“It was the best way to get you back here.” the Queen didn’t look up from her nails. “You will be taking the rest of the night off, Goliath will guard the perimeter in your stead.” Goliath stretched as he stood, Huntsman wanted to argue the point but a long missed stern glance from the Queen silenced him before he spoke.

“Understood my Queen.” Her expression softened a bit as they all realized, Huntsman had never really claimed a ‘space’ of his own. So with nowhere better to be he simply sat where he stood, shuffling back just a bit to be able to lean against a wall.

Of course that did mean he was still right next to Syntax.

“Get some sleep once he’s back under control.” The Queen stated simply before taking out a book, it seemed she wasn’t interested in getting any sleep herself.

Huntsman sat there for a few moments, wondering how the hell he’d be able to et any sleep when he was still tensing at the smallest of noises, when he felt a weight lightly hit his shoulder.

It seemed like Syntax’s body had finally gotten back with the program and joined his mind in going back to sleep, but unfortunately for Huntsman it had happened while he was sitting up, so now the scientist was slumped up against his side.

His hair was remarkably soft granted how desolate their circumstances were beginning to look.

The warmth of another body pressed against his wasn’t completely unfamiliar, but one would often forget just how deeply the packbonding of Spiders could run if one didn’t let it happen often and would surprise oneself with just how comforting that second body against ones could be. (it was him the one was him)

He found himself slowly starting to relax, unclench for what felt like the first time in months. And as his mind was starting to slow down he was maybe just a little closer to being able to admit to himself that maybe there was something about this very specific body pressed up against his that was making this a little easier.

A suppressed snicker shook him from the vague doze he was starting to fall into, to see the Queen peeking up at him from over the edge of her book.

“My Queen…?”

“Oh don’t mind me… but affectionate is a good look for you Huntsman.” She chuckled and cast a significant glance down at his-

His hand.

The hand that was still entwined with Syntax’s, and had been since he’d lead him out of the hall.

He reflexively shook his hand free, and Syntax made a weird sort of humming noise in his sleep, leaning further into Huntsman’s side, and… for lack of a better word, nuzzling into his collar.

And.. It was a startling thing for Syntax to do. Asleep or not, he didn't peg the man as affectionate whatsoever, let alone a cuddle sleeper. So it was surprising. And startling. And that was the reason why his heart had tripped on a beat and now was pounding in his chest. They might as well have kept him on watch he wasn’t going to get any sleep like this.

Spider Queen got exactly two more chapters into the mystery novel she’d stolen from some college student three days ago when she glanced up again and saw two of her dumb boys slumped over eachother quietly snoring like a pair of puppies. This whole thing had been a shitshow, she was humiliated, they were bereft of resources, and practically on the run for how they had to live while they sought a new plan.

But at least there was some happiness brewing. Even if one was in denial and the other was asleep for most of it.

--

Send me stuff

[silverdragon-imagines-blog]

Something with Sky and Warriors? I feel like they would get along pretty well

[Knights bonding and being friends is good, I concur that they’d be friends.]

Warning(s): This is super shippy, much more than I thought it would be. I put the ships in the tags just in case. Also, there's one part where a girl doesn't accept a no, but it gets shut down very quickly.

It was rare that they entered a town during a festival, especially with enough time in the day to fully appreciate it.

“Hey, old man,” Warriors had approached Time before they had fully entered the gateway to the thriving town, catching the sound of music and laughter on the air, “What do you say to a day or two of rest here? I think it’s not wrong of me to say that we’ve earned a bit of leisure time.”

Time caught on quickly, nodding to the guard standing nearby as they scrutinized the heavily armed group. He could see the brightly decorated lanterns strung up above the streets, could hear music and laughter further in and smell freshly baked treats. They had been on the road for days by now, and from the glimmer of excitement in the weary eyes of the group, it was clear that this was as good a time as any. Time turned to face the group, catching the satisfied smile on the captain’s face.

“It’s as good a time as any,” he began, the group halting in place at his voice, looking up at him with varying expressions of hopefulness and excitement. He smiled. “Go and enjoy yourselves but meet at the local Inn before nightfall.”

The resounding cheer caused Warriors to chuckle, and not even a second later Wild was leading the charge of Wind and Hyrule into the middle of the town. Twilight followed with a shake of his head and an amused smile of his own. Legend and Four had ducked away as the chaos began, taking a side street to explore. Time left him with a pat on his shoulder, leaving him with a weary Sky standing near the closest building, looking around to where the others had disappeared to. close to collapsing against it.

“Hey, you alright over there?”

“Yeah, just a bit tired of walking,” Sky shrugged, adjusting his sword strap as he approached, “Not really sure what to do either.”

“Well, my friend, you got stuck with the right person,” Warriors smiled, throwing an arm around the other’s shoulders, “Come on, let’s go find a place to sit nearer to the festival.”

Sky had no choice but to follow along, Warriors keeping a firm hold on his shoulder as he led the way through small crowds of people milling about. The music got louder as they approached the buildings closer to the center of the village, finding a small table close to the edge of the crowd. It was the perfect spot to watch the small group dancing near the fountain, a band of musicians nearby playing a merry tune.

“This is as good a spot as any,” he said, shoving Sky into a seat and taking the other across from him.

“And now we’re?”

“Watching the chaos unfold.”

Sky chuckled, turning to watch as the song ended. People were applauding the band, just as Wild ran through the crowd with a gaggle of children in hot pursuit, laughing and yelling the whole way. A few adults looked amused, carrying on with their enjoyment of the event. A village girl approached their table then, twirling a lock of hair between her fingers and keeping her eyes trained on Sky.

“Would you care to join me for a dance?”

Sky shook his head, but she was undeterred.

“Please? Just one dance and then I’ll leave you be.”

“I’m sorry miss, but he said no, did he not?”

The girl turned to Warriors then, a hint of annoyance under her smile. She stopped twirling her hair.

“What, is he gay or something? Is that why? Are you his boyfriend?”

Sky looked instantly uncomfortable, and Warriors’ gaze hardened.

“And if I am?”

The girl huffed, walking away into the crowd as the next song started up. Warriors shook his head, annoyed yet somewhat amused.

“Can you believe that girl? Who doesn’t understand what a no means?” He sighed, turning to see Sky looking down at his feet, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Sky replied, fiddling with his glove, “You wouldn’t uh… no, never mind.”

“No come on, Sky, you can say what’s on your mind. I won’t say anything or judge you.”

His companion was quiet for a moment, then took a deep breath. He looked Warriors in the eye, his expression brave, yet fear lingered in his gaze.

“If I were uh… not entirely straight, would you think less of me?”

“Not at all, I believe I’m the same way when it comes to relationships,” Warriors smiled, hoping that it looked comforting, “Has someone caught your eye?”

Sky turned away fast, red creeping up his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“W-well, uh, there’s Zelda- my Zelda anyway and-“

“Oh? And? More than one love interest, I see.”

Sky covered his face then, but he couldn’t conceal the blush that was growing on his face or muffle the surprisingly high-pitched exhale of air. He laughed, loudly, throwing his head back and smacking his leg with the force of it. He didn’t care if he drew the gaze of the villagers, it didn’t matter. Eventually, he breathed again, wheezing with tears in his eyes as he looked back to Sky, still hiding his face.

“So,” Warriors smirked, resting his face on his propped-up hand, “Who’s this other person who caught your attention?”

The response was muffled, but the captain didn’t muffle his amused response, chuckling and reaching over the table to pry the Skyloftian’s hands from his face.

“No, no, I wanna hear it. Please tell me?”

The hands dropped, revealing a very red-faced Sky. Warriors chuckled again, patting his hands.

“If you’re uncomfortable you don’t need to say, but I’m awfully curious about who would make you react like this to the mere thought of them.”

Sky made another high-pitched noise, shaking his head.

“N-not uncomfortable, I promise,” he managed to speak, he took a deep breath then looked back to Warriors long enough to make a decision, then look away again, “His name is Groose, okay?”

“Oh? And may I take a guess as to why you’re so embarrassed over this Groose person?”

A shy nod was all he needed, his grin growing into a near shit-eating one.

“Let’s see, I bet he’s tall and muscular. He acts all tough but he’s a softie, the reverse of you really,” He listed each off on each finger, looking over at Sky’s face each time and noticing how the blush seemed to grow, “He’s gotta be great at something that you admire, what is it?”

“He’s good at building stuff.”

The mumble was just audible enough, the lovestruck smile confirmation enough that he was smitten.

“He must be a good one then if you’re this way about him.”

Sky ducked slightly, smiling wide. Warriors was satisfied, crossing his arms with a smile as he watched the villagers dance. Then he felt a tap on his arm, looking over to see a very determined looking Sky.

“Your turn. Tell me who you like.”

“Oh boy,” Warriors was now the one looking down at his feet, mind a screaming mess, “heh heh, are you sure you really wanna hear about all the people I’ve been with?”

“I bet that’s a lie, you have a partner if not more, so spill. I embarrassed myself, now it’s your turn to be embarrassed.”

The captain covered his face, looking very unlike a commanding officer at that moment.

“Damn you and all you stand for,” he cursed, his companion laughing as he poked his arm.

“Say it, come on Captain, it’s time to accept your fate.”

“Fine!” Warriors tore his hands from his bright red face, “Impa and Volga! They’re both powerful and hot as fuck, are you happy?!”

The loud cackling next to him was answer enough and he huffed as Sky began to cough through the laughing fit. He reached over to rub the other’s back, making sure he didn’t choke on air. Once the wheezing subsided, Sky smiled wide.

“Look at us, being lovestruck fools together. Wonder if the others are as hopeless as we are?”

“Knowing our group, I bet they’re just as bad if not worse.”

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

We Met Within This Screen (chapt. 3 PART 1)

[Donnie x reader]

sfw, part 2 here

"Leo?" 

Donnie froze. Leo stood firm where he was. The atmosphere of the lab fell still and Donnie got up from his chair, slipping his phone into his pocket. 

"I was getting ready," Donnie almost stammered out, though he managed to get through it barely. "Just…" 

He couldn't think of anything to say. No excuses; he knew he was caught. Why would he have been smiling, chuckling at his phone? Why would he have been that distracted as to not detect his brother? There was no explanation to give. He was far less acute than their leader in his senses—less intuitive—to have been able to know that. He berated himself as Leo folded his arms and gave him a look of knowing. Always with that look. You knew you were busted when Leo deployed that one. 

"You can either tell me what's going on now or you can do it out there, where everyone can hear," said Leo sternly, body partially blocking the exit anyway. 

Donnie scratched on the same spot on the back of his neck that he'd always picked at when he felt uncomfortable. "I can explain," he finally said in a low tone. "Just let me. And please don't alert everyone else immediately. Promise?" 

Pausing, Leo contemplated on his response, coming to the decision that he'd at least give him that. He nodded and motioned for him to start, "Go ahead."

"I, um…" 

Donnie's heart rate picked up a bit as he began to feel a wash of embarrassment seep in. He'd never been very open to his brothers about how he sometimes wanted connection with the outside world. He hadn't thought much about love or romance given their situation, either, but it did crop up from time to time—he still never mentioned it. 

Releasing a deep breath, he explained, "I met someone. Over a game. She wanted to text, and I figured that, since the possibility of—" 

Leo halted him. "Time out, what? You met someone on a game, they wanted to text, and you just...agreed?" he asked, surprised himself by Donnie's actions. Before he would hear his brother's response, he continued, cutting him off once again, "Did you forget that there's a reason why we don't just go around talking to whoever?"

Donnie felt a spark of anger and he stood up straighter, stepping forward toward Leo. He hated nothing more than being implied he was stupid or naive. But he still kept his distance, and still tried to keep his voice low so that prying ears couldn't hear. 

"Trust me, Leo! I've been talking to her for a few weeks. We only started officially texting recently. You know I've fixed up our phones so they aren't traceable; what is the issue? Am I not allowed to have my own life?" 

Leo scoffed lightly, shaking his head. "Don, come on, dude," he reasoned, "can you even be sure that's a girl?" 

Donnie's lip twitched in annoyance and he scoffed, himself. Of course he was sure! If he'd ever had any inkling he was being baited by an older man, he never would have played with them, or even agreed to text. But Leo didn't seem to listen to anyone's intuition but his own and Splinter's, and so he wouldn't hear out that argument. Donnie suddenly wished she'd sent a picture of herself so he could prove to his brother that he was not, in fact, that empty-headed. 

"Also, you do have your own life, it's with us. Which means I have to look out for both you and the rest of the family. I mean it when I say this is risky. Don't be a fool, Donnie. Plus, what were you planning on doing when she eventually wants to know more about you? Lie your way through it? Even if she is who you say she is, it still doesn't change the fact that she's a human girl and you're a mutant. And you can't keep up the charade forever." 

Donnie's heart panged at his last words. He wanted so badly to say that he was wrong, but really, he knew that Leo was painfully correct. He couldn't keep up the act forever. Not unless he wanted a friendship built upon lies and deceit by omission. As much as he hated to admit it, Leo was right; it was foolish to have thought it would somehow work out. 

Silence befell them, and even though he spoke the truth, Leo felt bad upon seeing his face fall like that. He reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "I know it gets lonely. We all do. But you have to face it, Don. That up there? It isn't for us," he told him gently, trying hard to lift the tension from the room. "Let's just stick to what we know best, okay?" 

The shadows. 

Eyes averted at the ground, Donnie swept the hand on his shoulder off. He walked right past his brother and grabbed some gear on his way out. "Yeah. Let's go." His reply was quiet and curt, steady as he could make it. Though on the inside, he was frustrated. Frustrated that he'd dug himself into a hole that he'd now have to not only dig himself out of, but let down someone else while he was at it. He'd have to let her go. Less angry was he with himself as he was his situation, and Leo knew that feeling well. He wanted to protect his brother—he just hoped Donnie would see that. 

Out on patrol, they went about their routine as usual, but everyone noticed the mood-shift. Raph and Mikey were excitable as ever, but the other two were more reserved that night, not talking much to each other. 

They leaped from one rooftop to another where they decided to stop for a quick rest, Mikey racing ahead of all of them as he vaulted from the roof and onto the next. "You guys are slow!" he called from the other side. He grinned and jumped up onto the scaffold of a water tower while Raph  barrelled across the gap with a roll on impact, Leo choosing to take a flip. Donnie trailed behind and simply jumped the ledge. 

"Yo, what's up, D?" Mikey asked through heavy breaths, picking up on his standoffishness. "You been quiet all night!"

"And you're slow as hell," Raph commented. While not as perceptive as Mikey, he had noticed the odd tension and was beginning to get suspicious as well. He knew someone wasn't saying something; he just didn't know what. 

Leo and Donnie exchanged looks. He silently hoped that Leo would take the hint, but when Leo sighed and glanced back at the other two, he knew it was hopeless. He'd get chastised at for being ignorant all over again. At least by Raph, he judged. Mikey couldn't really talk because he'd been in a similar boat before, and now, he knew how he'd felt all those times they got onto Mikey for trying to make contact with humans. 

"Well?" demanded Raph, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "You gonna tell us or what?" His eyes were on Leo rather than Donnie, because he already had an idea that they both knew something that he and Mikey didn't, but everyone turned to Leo when something like this came up.

Leo chewed on his lower lip for a second, conflicted as to whether he would come out with it or save Donnie's pride. They were brothers, family—he couldn't feel truthful keeping them in the dark. But he also recognized that it wasn't his place to say it. He instead turned to Donnie himself, looking for any sign of what they were gonna do. It was up to him, he concluded; if he wanted to stay quiet about it, he could. 

Mikey was confused. Raph was growing more impatient. Donnie felt pressured to blurt it out. And he did. 

Breaking, Donnie strung out, "I met someone online and we started talking and Leo found out and I didn't want you guys to know because it was stupid and...and...oh, just let me finish this now!"

Leo awkwardly stood back in silence while Raph looked at Mikey, then back at Donnie and him, and soon enough everyone was just staring at one another, all waiting for someone to say something, but no one did. Done, Donnie took his phone out and opened up the messages shared between him and her, holding it out for his brothers to see. 

Without warning Raph snatched the phone from his hand and started scrolling, Mikey peering around his shoulder and trying to push him out of the way to see. 

"You actually talked to a girl," Mikey awed. He was excited at first, but it faded when he thought about the fact that Donnie had kept a secret from them. They didn't keep secrets. 

"Yeah, one named [y/n], who lives in New York City," Raph emphasized, "and works at wherever this is…and...how did you even meet this girl, Don? Is that even a girl?" he questioned Donnie accusingly, waving the phone around as he spoke. He almost dropped it and Donnie quickly took it from him, telling him to be careful as he slipped it back into the strap on his bicep. 

Leo kept vigilant watch around them while the conversation played out, being the only one truly paying attention. His eye caught some erratic movement in a tucked-away alley down below them. 

"For the last time, yes! She is a girl! And I met her on a game," Donnie answered, throwing his hands down. 

"Save it for later, guys, we got company," Leo interjected. He pointed down at the alleyway adjacent to the building they were on and motioned for them to get moving, dropping down onto the fire escape of an apartment complex. 

Raph bumped Donnie in the arm purposefully as they approached the edge of the roof, "We ain't done yet," he said, dropping onto the fire escape. 

"Yeah, not done yet," Mikey added whimsically. 

Groaning under his breath, Donnie whipped out his staff, and leaped down. 

Mikey followed behind him, jumping the ledge and launching himself to the opposite balcony. They came upon the scene of a couple of men each carrying a sack out of a backdoor in a building, what was assumed to be the ringleader overseeing it from a car parked next to them. 

They turtles were silent, perfectly hidden and moved within the black of night as they descended. Raph pulled out his sai and was about to drop down on one of the unsuspecting men when Leo shoved him back. "Hold on," Leo told him. Begrudgingly, Raph stood down. Donnie peered around the corner from ground level while Mikey clinged to a wall in the shadows. Above, Leo and Raph took the high ground, watching them from a balcony nearby. 

"Hurry up and get this shit loaded into the car, I don't wanna get caught back here," a rough voice ordered from the vehicle. Donnie spotted another person in the passenger's seat. 

"We're goin' as fast as we can!" one of the men spat back. All were beefed up, tattooed, and based on the scars, no strangers to a fight. 

Raph looked at Leo with a smirk. Leo gave the signal and everyone closed in, red and blue dropping from the balcony onto the two completely unaware men, while Donnie and Mikey went to take care of those in the car. 

"What the fuck?!" a man shouted, stumbling back as the duo dropped heavily in front of them. He tossed the sack away and Raph saw he was going to pull out a gun, which Raph went for immediately with his sai. He charged into the man before he could even try to aim and stuck the arm holding the pistol with his three-pronged weapon, forcing his wrist down and the gun to fall out of his hand. Leo took the other and barely had to use any force in pinning the man against the wall with his blade and forearm, but had to duck out of the way when Mikey came through swinging his nunchucks at one of the men who had tried to flee the scene. 

"Watch where you're going with those things, Mikey!" Leo yelled, grunting as a crowbar collided with the side of his head. He spun around and threw his fist at whoever was behind him, an incapacitating blow to a human, but barely his full strength. 

Mikey easily caught his target and gave his legs a mighty sweep to sent him tumbling down. "You thought!" he bellowed with a laugh. "Can't outrun M.C. Mikey." 

Donnie caught the driver on the far end of the fight scurrying to pick up the sacks before making his getaway, and quickly he forcefully jabbed his staff into the solar plexus of the man, sending him onto his back. He was winded, coughing and struggling for air. 

"Donatello! You good over there?" Raph called out, delivering one final kick to the stomach of the man he was on. Donnie heard the skid of a shoe on the pavement behind him and didn't even have to look as he whirled around with a swing of his staff, hitting the man in the head with near-devastating force. It was a knockout blow—the guy dropped, and the fight was over as quickly as it had started. 

Donnie looked around and collapsed his staff, "All good," he answered curtly. 

All five of the men lay on the ground, a couple flat-out unconscious while the rest hissed and groaned in pain. While Donnie inspected the sacks strewn around, Raph chuffed and kicked the gun that had fallen away from the hand that was slowly reaching for it, looking down at the pathetic criminal as he instead stepped on his wrist. The burly man let out a whimper, like a baby, and Raph chuckled. 

"Just money," Donnie announced. All of them heard the sirens of police cars approaching. "Let's get out of here, guys." 

"Those morons weren't even a warm-up," Raph gloated, fist-bumping Mikey. Leo and Donnie were already scaling up to the roof. "Guess if I want to be bored outta my mind, I'll find these guys again." 

"Oh, we'll find 'em again," Mikey added, pulling himself up onto the fire escape. He glanced back and saw the red and blue flashing lights starting to round the corner. "But, uh, not before the cops do." 

The four made their way back up to the roof and left the area. They still had some time left on patrol, so for a minute, they lingered around, Raph keen to reignite their earlier conversation. Donnie already saw it coming and mentally prepared to answer all of the questions that were about to be thrown his way—which he was correct about, as Raph proceeded to open with, "So, what, you're keepin' secrets from us now? Anything else ya been doing behind all our backs?" 

"Cut it, Raph," Leo said, stepping between him and Donnie, "you know that's not it. Don?"

"We're your pals, man, you should have told us," frowned Mikey. 

"I just didn't want anyone to freak out," Donnie explained, "and I didn't know I was going to meet anyone I liked that much, I was only planning on playing the—" 

Both Raph and Mikey asked in unison, "'Like'?" 

He scrambled to fix his wording. He cursed his nervous chatter; he couldn't help himself, he was uncomfortable. Maybe even anxious, because he knew he was going to have to face reality and break it off with his new friend.

"No, not—not 'like'. Like, not like that. I mean in general, as a person," he stuttered, floundering with himself. 

Mikey knew he was lying. He knew it well. Though gullible at times, when it came to the heart, Mikey truly was the most in-tune out of the four. As for the other two, he couldn't say as to whether they saw the lie here, because sometimes, Donnie stuttered just because he was excited or frazzled. Other times, it was definitely because he was lying. The entire time he felt a little bad for his brother. He imagined himself in his shoes and it made him sad, thinking about having to let go of a friend right after having them in his life. 

Putting a hand on his shell, Mikey shook him a bit, "You like her, bro," he whispered. 

Donnie lightly pushed him away. "She's a friend," he clarified, eyeing Mikey. 

Raph was silent for a moment while he thought about everything. He wasn't mad about the fact that Donnie has found someone as much as he was that he never said anything, kept a secret from his brothers. The four of them had a rule that went without saying; they didn't keep secrets from one another. Not about anything major, at least—which this was. He didn't even contemplate on what he thought Donnie should do about it, just that he'd hidden something significant from all of them.  

"Still doesn't change the fact that you didn't seem like you were plannin' on coming clean with any of us," Raph huffed. "Not if he didn't catch ya." He pointed at Leo. 

Donnie suddenly felt his temper flare, and he bit back, "What about you, Raphael? You constantly hide your feelings! How is it not the same thing?" 

"Except for his anger, he's pretty upfront about that," Mikey quickly added in before sinking away from the two. Leo sighed and flicked his head. Donnie was right. Raph was a hypocrite and they were getting nowhere. 

"My feelings don't endanger people around me," growled Raph, stepping in toward Donnie. They met each other half-way as Donnie wasn't about to back down from his brother, who he was not scared of. "That is absolutely different from what you're doing!"

"Guys, we need to get going," Leo stated, seeing how the moon was far its descent. "Splinter's clear about when he wants us back." 

"I'm finishing this right now," Donnie said, pulling out his phone. He opened up the messages and began typing.

Hey. Sorry for the sudden message and I apologise, but I can't do this anymore

He hadn't noticed yet, but the last text he'd received was only twenty minutes prior, right before they dipped from the crime scene they'd just handled. It read: 

Damn, I hear all this racket outside my apartment and it's kind of making me nervous

Like guys yelling and stuff getting banged

Nvm someone called the cops, I guess it's good now 

Everyone was gathered around Donnie watching the screen as he typed. Raph and Leo both caught that last message. He pressed send and it was only then he saw it, too, and everyone slowly looked at each other in recognition. Everyone was thinking the same thing. 

"Awkward," Mikey drew out. 

All were at a loss for words. When a new message pinged, they all shoved at each other to get a good look. Raph accidentally stepped on someone's foot. "Ouch! Give me some space, guys," Donnie snapped. 

What? 

What's wrong? 

Donnie looked sadly at the screen. He started typing his response, something skin to "it's complicated" followed by an apology, but Mikey stopped him. "Dude, you can't tell her that, it's gonna hurt her feelings!" Mikey exclaimed, "this is totally unfair! To both of you."

"Look, I ain't tryna be petty, but last time I checked, the rest of us aren't allowed to have human friends," grumbled Raph.

A new message popped up and it read:

Well...I won't question your decision. Bye Bo, I guess

Sighing, Donnie turned off his phone and put it away. He turned to everyone. "Happy?"

"Of course not, bro," Mikey responded. He looked around, as if expecting agreement. There was none; Raph stood away and Leo was watching Donnie's face go from annoyed to dejected. "Guys?"

Leo patted Donnie on the shoulder. "You did the right thing," he said. Donnie didn't say anything. "Alright, let's get going."

Chapter 3, part 2

[buckyownsmylife]

white winter hymnal - tom hardy smut

The one where you’re Tom’s PA and you two get snowed in.

Warnings: smut, boss/employee relationship, dirty talk, kind of sexist remarks?, that wasn’t my intention, but maybe that’s how you’ll see it, so I should warn you about it, reader is very sex positive in this fic, idiot in lust, PA!Reader, jealous!Tom, kinda possessive! or maybe asshole!Tom, again it wasn’t my intention, I just wanted to write some dirty talk, use of the term cockslut and another that I can’t remember, or maybe it was cockslut twice

A/N: I’m not really satisfied with this collage, but this will have to do 🤷‍♀️ Anyway, here’s another anon request I received a while back. Please take everything Tom says as nothing more than dirty talk. Also, I did that thing where I wrote a pre-POV intro, idk if it’s any good but when the inspiration hits, I just roll with it ✌

Y/N wasn’t having a good week at work. It wasn’t that something wrong had happened - actually when you considered the cold facts about what had left her feeling so high strung that a simple touch almost made her moan, anyone would think she was crazy. Those were nice things, good situations that she’d found herself in.

But she’d disagree emphatically. There was nothing nice about the fuck-me eyes with which Tom, her boss, had regarded her when she arrived on set with the pencil skirt that she knew made her ass look great. There was nothing nice about the way he’d commented on how she was out to get him, making his life more difficult because of the way she was dressing. There was nothing nice about how he had kept on complimenting her, telling her how pretty she looked with her hair down, or how he joked about how it must have hurt when she fell from heaven.

And especially, there was absolutely nothing nice about the subtle, fleeting touches he’d decided to shower her with, leaving her burning and more aroused than she cared to admit, considering how innocent they actually were. Tom had been flirting with her ever since her job interview, it was nothing new and she should have gotten used to it by now.

But the truth was that she didn’t, she couldn’t. And who could really blame her, when every day it seemed like Tom stepped up a notch, making it harder and harder for her to ignore his advances and keep things professional between them?

Especially considering just how badly she needed to get off and just how attracted she was to him and his stupidly perfect body and damn hypnotizing smirk. She was only human, after all. A human woman with healthy desires that seemed to revolve exclusively about her boss.

God, she was pathetic. At least, she could always count on Saturday nights. That was the time she managed to escape the acting world and the craziness of the set where they had been filming for the last month to go to the bar and find someone who’d take her home and help her deal with her growing levels of horny.

If it weren’t for random strangers who knew what to do in bed, she wasn’t too sure she wouldn’t have succumbed to Tom’s spell and climbed him like a tree already. And that’s where she was headed, just after she stopped by his rental house and went over their schedule for the week ahead.

She’d get through this, she thought as she made sure her coat was tightly wrapped around her waist before exiting her car and running towards the front door, ignoring the snow that had been lightly falling since that morning. Just two more hours and she would be on her way to drowning her needs in another stranger’s body, just to pretend that she didn’t think about Tom during the entire act.

Yeah. She could totally do this.

Tom was screwed.

He had been since he first laid his eyes on her, some five months ago, just before they moved to this fucking freezing country to start filming for his next movie. He knew even back then, he should have thanked her with a smile, explained that she wasn’t right for the job, and asked her out. The fact that she was the best person for the job shouldn’t even have counted, because he was head over heels for her in that first meeting, how the fuck could he keep himself away when she was supposed to be working by his side every minute of every day?

In the end, the idea of having to wait until the end of filming to actually get to spend some time with her made him take the impulsive decision that led him to this situation. Having her so close, but nowhere near what he wished for.

It was hell on Earth. Especially since he knew she felt the same way, he could see it in her eyes, in the way she squeezed her thighs together every time he so much as looked her way. If only she wasn’t so unbelievably professional.

“Tom?” He heard her sweet voice calling out from downstairs and casted a glance at the window. The snow had been gradually building up since that morning, it was a surprise she had managed to reach his house in the first place. But of course, she would never let something as silly as the weather keep her away from her responsibilities.

With a low chuckle, he made his way to the living room, rubbing his hands together to create some warmth despite the heaters that were working overtime since he arrived at that house. It didn’t matter, it was still too fucking cold.

“Ready to go over your schedule?” He trailed his eyes over her body, taking notice of the dress she was wearing over the warm leggings. What day was it? Oh, right. Her day off started the minute she finished this one last task, and then she’d be off to…

He knew where she’d be off to. Thinking about it made him see red, especially since he didn’t have the opportunity to do the same where they were. He envied her, but he envied the lucky bastard that got to fuck her tonight even more.

“Of course,” was all he said, assuming a spot on the seat next to hers on the couch. She visibly tensed, but then threw him a small smile that seemed to try to ease her own nerves, to which he returned with a grin of his own.

“What are you all smiley about?” It was nice to see her more laidback, it was clear that the prospect of letting off some steam tonight was relaxing her. Tom could work with that. In fact, it just made his plans that much easier.

“I can’t imagine how someone could be near a woman as beautiful and not be happy, sweetheart.” Her smile immediately dropped, her eyes growing twice their size as he maintained his grin. “But let’s get on with it, shall we? I have a lot to plan out with you.”

She raised an eyebrow at his lack of interest in continuing to mess with her but shrugged it off before opening her planner. They did have a lot to talk about before she could finally leave to the nearest bar.

Tom chanced a glance out the window as she tried to locate their current week on her faithful notebook. This might just turn out the way he needed it to be.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Aaaand… I guess this finalizes your schedule for the next week,” I commented as I made sure to correct the time for a phone interview Tom would be having on the following Friday, before glancing up at him. He’d been mostly quiet for the last few minutes, a stark difference from how he had behaved during the entire meeting. Through all my time working for him, it had been the first time he was actually really present for the scheduling of his following week, making changes and trying to be sure that it would go as smoothly as he wanted it to be.

It wasn’t an unwelcome change, but it sure was peculiar. And by now, I knew him enough to get that there was definitely a hidden reason for him to be behaving this way. Still, I couldn’t yet grasp what it was that he had planned, so I resigned myself to getting through with what I intended to do for the day, and thankfully, that was now done.

“Well, if you won’t be needing me anymore, I’ll be getting out of your hair now.” I smiled softly down at him when I left the sofa, making quick work of my scattered papers and random pens before straightening out to say goodbye. “What?” I had to ask since he was looking at me like he was trying to contain his laughter.

“Well, first of all, sweetheart, I always need you. Perhaps not in the way you’re supposed to help with, according to your job description, but it’s the truth.” I had difficulty maintaining eye contact after that, opting to stare at the mountain of documents in my hands while I fidgeted from one foot to the other, feeling the arousal inside of me sparkle before starting to burn even more intensely. Why did he have to be so honest about wanting me?

“Second and perhaps most importantly… I think you’re stuck with me for the rest of the evening, love.” That made me look at him again, desperate to find any signs that he was only toying with my emotions, anything to show me that he was only playing. But all I got was a nod of his head, pointing towards the windows, and that’s when it hit me.

We were snowed in.

A lot of different feelings took over me at the realization. First, there was despair. What would I do now that I couldn’t go to the bar? Then, there was anxiety. How the fuck was I supposed to survive spending the night with my boss - to whom I was attracted to - in a house with a single room in it?

Finally, sheer panic set in, making me shake my head in frustration. I’d never be able to find enough control to resist him without the release that my weekly escapades granted me. And by the way he stared up at me, with those darkened eyes filled with lust, I could tell that he knew.

I watched with a trembling body as he slowly rose from the seat and made his way to me until we were chest to chest. His eyes ran up and down my body until they finally settled on mine again, and I had to bite down a whimper. 

That’s how weak I was for him. He could reduce me to a wanton mess with a fucking stare.

“You’re scared.” It wasn’t a question. Both he and I recognized it as a fact. Still, I whispered into the air between us, “Yes.” Immediately, he pressed on. “Of me?” I almost melted at the sight of such a burly, strong man, towering over me and devastated at the prospect of threatening me.

Tom’s P.O.V.

I waited for her answer with a heavy heart, but the hopeful expectation that she did actually feel just the same as I did: scared at the prospect of what could happen between us, but equally excited. 

“No.” I tilted my head at the word, curious as to what was her explanation, then.

“Then what?”

“Of what could happen if I let go of my control. Of what I would become.” Slowly, a smile took over my face, and I finally felt confident enough in her feelings to feel like I could touch her. So I raised my hands to hold her hips, rejoicing in just how small she was in comparison to me. It felt like I could very easily pick her up and take her - in whichever way I wanted. And there were a lot of them.

“Let go,” I whispered in her ear, having leaned down so I could compensate for our difference in height. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see you without that precious control of yours.”

Goosebumps had spread all over her skin at the difference in temperature of my breath and her skin. I watched in fascination, following their trail, rubbing my nose across her jaw before finally, her lips were inches from mine. And then they were mine.

I possessed her mouth just like I’d fantasized for so long, desperate to make up for the lost time, for all the nights I spent alone thinking about her while she was off with someone else. And she responded just in kind, her arms barely able to embrace my body, but her palms were spread over my back, pulling me closer, and that was more than enough for me. 

For now, at least. Now that I’d captured her on my web, there was no way I was letting her go before I fulfilled each and every one of the dirty, dirty dreams I had about the two of us. I was going to ravish her. I was going to ruin her.

She let out a tiny whimper when I pried her lips open with my tongue, before melting in my arms as I explored her mouth, basked on her taste. “You know there’s no way I’m letting you go now, right?”

By the way she looked at me with hazy eyes, it was clear that there would be no resistance from her whatsoever. She was pliant and soft in my hands, easily following when I picked her up and climbed up the stairs to my room with her in my arms. And then, when she was on the bed, there was just no way I could control myself anymore, not even long enough to take off our clothes properly. So I just flipped her skirt up, before ripping apart her leggings and finding her underwear absolutely drenched for me.

“Fuck,” I whispered, already reaching out to rub my thumb over her nub, making her gasp and cry out for me. “I can smell you dripping through the fabric, sweetheart.” To my pleasure, she didn’t seem coy about it at all. 

Oh, no. My little assistant, the picture-perfect of professionality was licking her lips, frantically nodding to my indication. “For you, I’m always dripping for you.” A smirk took over my face at her confession, my cock hardening even more at hearing that while I was suffering silently all that time, so was she.

So I ripped her underwear to shreds, spreading my hands over the inside of her thighs to get the perfect view of that pussy that had been haunting my dreams. “Shit, I can’t wait to eat that.”  And with only those words as warning, I dove right in, attracted by the sweet smell that made my mouth water.

She was just as sweet as I thought, but the sounds with which she filled my bedroom were what drove me crazy. I couldn’t close my eyes to fully appreciate her taste, too transfixed by her beauty, unable to believe that I finally had her, that it was her pussy I was currently lapping.

“Damn, look at you,” I hummed against her clit, making her jerk and try to pull away for a split second before I threw an arm over her hips to secure her position. “You fought so hard against your instincts, only to end up right here, spread open for me.”

With each word that left my lips, she seemed to get closer and closer to her release. “And to think you could have had my mouth on you all this time. Tell me, darling, do you think a stranger could make you feel better? Were any of the people you fucked, trying to ignore our connection, this great at making you cum?”

I could feel her muscles quiver under the soft skin of the inside of her thigh, and I doubled my efforts on her pussy, determined to see her cum at least once before I finally got my cock in her. It was throbbing now, begging for any sort of attention, but I was too transfixed by the sight of her reaching her high, the way her chest heaved as I quickly rubbed her clit with my tongue before sucking it into my mouth.

“Gimme your cum, baby. C’mon. Been waiting so long to get you in my bed…” She came as I hummed against her, the sensations obviously flipping her over that edge. “Fuck, you’re sweet.”

I kept on slowly cleaning her up, mindful of not hurting her, as she struggled to get her breathing in check. Despite her sensitivity, I couldn’t get myself to part with her taste just yet, even considering the possibility of eating her out some more, making her cum one or two more times before I fucked her properly.

But that was all before she fractured my control with two simple sentences. “Want some help with that? I’ve really been looking forward to getting your cock in my mouth.” I hadn’t even realized that I had been grinding against the mattress as I pleasured her, just to relieve my needy member at least a little bit.

What I knew was that I most definitely would not be able to hold back enough to feel her mouth around me. At least this first time. So all she got was a growl as I pounced on her, forcing her to taste her cum as I kissed those gorgeous lips and held her knees open to accept my weight between them.

“Right now, I’m gonna fuck this little pussy until you’re sobbing for me, okay, love? If you beg nicely, I might let you taste me later.” She whimpered in response, and a smirk took over my face. “Wow, you really are cockdrunk for me, aren’t you sweetheart?” The whine I got only made me laugh, giving me a little bit more control to tease her some more.

“You think you’re ready for me?” I asked, pressing the head of my cock against her clit, rubbing it with my member. “Are you sure you can handle my dick, darling?” Watching her thrash around the bed in an effort to get me to push into her was something I never thought I’d get to see. It made that moment of victory just that much sweeter.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I was trembling in anticipation to finally have him inside of me. To feel that fat cock stretching me open, filling me up like I’d always wanted it to. It was enough to drive me absolutely crazy with desire.

“Yes, yes, please, I can handle it. Please, stop teasing me,” I begged, my hands not able to choose what to hold as I struggled to keep myself from losing my mind over my boss’ cock. From the depths of my desire, I took notice of the way he smirked, one eyebrow raised up as he stared down at me, still slowly running the head of his cock between my pussy lips.

“Teasing? This isn’t teasing, love. Teasing is what you did to me, every single day since we met, parading everywhere with those fucking skintight skirts.” And with those words as preamble, he finally slid home, only stopping when he was completely inside of me, hitting my cervix and difficulting the now herculean task of remembering how to breathe again.

“Fuck, I knew you’d be this tight. I just fucking knew it.” Those were the last things I heard before he started pounding me against the mattress, barely having given me any time to get used to his thickness. 

If I thought I was losing my mind before, it became clear from the way he was bruising my insides that there was no possibility of me ever leaving this bed as a sane woman. Tom had managed to reduce me to a blubbering, stupid mess. He truly had turned me into his cockslut, I realized. I’d do anything just to keep being filled by him, over and over again.

“See? This is what you could have been having this entire time. Me and my cock. Instead, you just had to leave me for those random men. And while you were out, having your fun, all I had to keep me company was my own hand.” Tom never stopped the torturing pace with which he kept on fucking me as he slowly drove me crazy with his words. It was just unbelievable how great he was at dirty talk, I felt like I could cum already from the rhythmic attack on my sweet spot and the filth he was spilling. 

The mental image he elicited of him touching himself didn’t hurt, either.

“You’re so egoistic, sweetheart. Wasn’t it your job to serve me? Instead, I had to get off all by myself.” Despite the teasing nature of his remarks and the still brutal pace of his thrusts, his touch over my body was gentle, as he gathered my hair away from my face so he could bury his head in the crook of my neck.

“You… You could have had anyone you wanted,” I managed to remind him, starting to mirror his movements, fucking myself up on his cock. “You could have had anyone at all.” Abruptly, he stopped hiding his face against my skin, pushing away just enough to watch my expression - or maybe to show me his, in all of its seriousness.

“The only one I wanted was you. This was everything I wished for, since day one.” Tom raised himself slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts in a way that had me gasping in surprise, while also preventing me from being able to figure out what I could possibly say to that. So he continued, slowing the movements only a bit, but fucking me deeper, his eyes searching mine for something I couldn’t pinpoint. 

Tom’s P.O.V.

She gasped, finally giving up that last little bit of control and allowing herself to relax against the mattress as I did all of the work. “But now I have you, huh? And this is where you should be spending your days, with my cock deep inside of your pussy, keeping me warm, keeping me happy.” I kissed her before finishing, “Keeping me fulfilled.”

With a moan that electrified every single cell of my body, she came and prompted my own orgasm, and I spilled inside of her with a roar, momentarily losing my strength and falling on top of her body.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, darling. Let me get out of you.” But she stopped me from leaving her arms and her pussy, hugging me to her chest until I had no other choice but to cuddle her.

“It’s okay,” she said, fingers lightly running through my short hair. “I like it.”

I fell asleep that night happy because I understood that was her way of saying that she was satisfied with this development in our once strictly professional relationship. And I couldn’t wait to wake her up with another reason why she shouldn’t regret this.

[inkofamethyst]

October 31, 2022

Course registration today was a bit of a mess, actually, but thankfully I think everything might turn out to be okay.  There aren’t any restrictions listed for the education class I wanted to take next sem, but when I went to add it, the system told me that I had to be a education major to take it.  So I email the instructor to plead my case, not expecting much bc she’s a grad student, and sullenly pick a greek art class as an alternate to fill the space.  The instructor gets back to me in an hour with permission, and I think I should be able to get in.  It’s a lower-level course, but the seats are already going pretty quick, so hopefully the registrar acts fast to lift to block.

I am having a wee bit of an anxious episode at the moment, but it was partly brought on by the frustration of feeling, once again, like an emotional punching bag.  Not in the way that I’m being emotionally abused or anything, but, like, in high school I used to have a friend who had a lot of issues at home and she’d turn to me (and also to my dnd-friend) almost exclusively with her problems and it was really draining, honestly.  I had to stop putting effort into that relationship because it felt so one-sided.  And, frankly, she’s part of the reason that I don’t go to people with my problems.  That people only hear about my problems after I’ve solved them or cannot conceive of a way to solve them myself and have already cried over it (and in those cases I go to my parents).

Anyway saxophone-guy (-friend?) saxophone-friend (the “guy” suffix will be saved for potential, uh, suitors) has been doing that to me since I met him and it’s become even more pronounced this semester now that we’re “just friends” because he never ever comes to me when he’s happy about something.  I spent hours on a birthday present for him and the first thing he says to me when we next see each other in-person is how bad his day has been (he did thank me for the gift over text last week (also I’d like to be perfectly clear: this was not a gift given with the intent to win him back, as that ship has certainly sailed, it was a gift given with the intent to stop him from always being so down in the dumps over his voice (because any time he felt self-conscious about it, guess who he’d text and guess who’d have to use the same lines over and over again to comfort the guy (I don’t expect people to be perfect, and I understand we’ve all got our hangups, but he’s got a whole therapist)))).  I just... people who start nearly every conversation with the intent of spilling their problems irk me.  And he had the gall to say today that he doesn’t like going to people with his problems because he hates bringing down their day.  HM.  It seems as though the self-awareness doesn’t stretch as far as he thinks it does.

It’s not my intention to disparage people.  I’m just terribly high-strung at the moment.  Second round of midterms, a month until my applications are due, regular assignments on top of that, trying to prepare for my future...

I don’t want to come off like a fair-weather friend.  Truly, I don’t.  But the guy needs a journal.  Maybe not an internet one, that seems like a pretty dumb idea tbh.

So that’s frustrating, and then I’ve got an exam tomorrow [edit, next day: it was just okay, I think the short answers were fine, but the matching was awful (who cares about Haldane’s rule so much that it shows up on two questions??)] and a draft of a paper due and two discussion boards to do because I’m behind and emails to send and two more exams this week and I’m already feeling awful.  This Friday can’t come soon enough.  And then I’m going to a concert (orchestra lol) this weekend, and a movie next week, and an opera two weekends from now... ah.  Just gotta get through this hell of a week.

Today I’m thankful that... I’m thankful for GMM’s Vote Like a Beast web service.  It was so useful and so much easier to build my ballot relatively painlessly compared to consulting a newspaper and endless maps.  Midterm elections are so important, but the local-ness of it all can for sure be more overwhelming and confusing than the big national elections.  And as a college student it would be so easy to just be Too Busy To Vote, but I’m glad I did.

[juliandev0rak]

Into The Wild  

Chapter 5: Honeysuckle

✧ Into The Wild Series ✧ playlist ✧

Words: 3023

At the beginning of the summer Asra and Willa did a tarot reading, just for fun and mostly as an excuse for Willa to show off the cards she’d designed and painted herself. It had been a simple one card pull to symbolize the theme of the summer, and she’d pulled the star— symbolizing hope, faith, and rebirth. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now, looking back at the last few weeks of summer, Willa has realized just how correct that prediction was.

She can’t remember the last time she was this happy and excited for the future. The last few years have been hard on her own, and joining the staff of Camp Vesuvia had been a last-ditch effort to fix things, to make something of herself, to find a place to belong. And as her tarot deck had predicted, she’d done all of those things. Though there was no way the cards could have predicted Muriel, or how much Willa has grown to like him in just a few short weeks.

After the movie night, specifically after the cuddling in the dark and goodbye cheek kisses, she’d been afraid he would disappear. But Muriel had kept his promise to be around more, and they’ve spent the last few days almost entirely together. He’s joined her at meals, sat with her every night at the campfire, and even helped her with work. volunteering in the arts and crafts cabin when his own work was slow.

And Willa had been just as eager to see him, she’d even followed him around on a patrol one evening. It should have been scary to be in the forest after dark like that, but she’d never had so much fun in her life holding the flashlight and listening to Muriel tell stories about his work to pass the time. That’s another change, he actually talks to her now. And whether it’s due to her persistent encouragement finally wearing him down or the tentative trust they’ve built up over a few weeks of friendship, Willa is very glad for the change.

In all of the busy days of work and evenings spent sitting close together by the fire, time has moved fast. Only one week remains before the end of the summer. Only one week remains until Willa has to drive back down the mountain and back to whatever remains of her solitary life in the city. She supposes she’ll have to look for a new job, and that she’ll simply have to forget about how wonderful things have been here at Camp Vesuvia.

Willa doesn’t want to think about forgetting Muriel yet, the thought hurts too much to consider though the deadline for accepting it grows ever nearer.

With only seven days left till the end of camp, it’s time for the culminating event of the summer— the annual talent show. It’s all the campers have been able to talk about for days, and most camp activities have been halted to allow them to practice their talents. Willa had been asked to judge, but she decided to leave that job to Asra and Julian. They’ve been bickering all day about the criteria used to find a winner and what “defines talent”. The winners will get prize money, a trophy, and most importantly— the glory of winning Camp Vesuvia’s talent show.

The air is full of excitement, and as Willa enters the amphitheater she can’t help but be swept up in the festive mood. Lucio has been busy with the decorations, he’s got an eye for dramatic decor and somehow managed to turn the outdoor stage into a real theater experience. There are lights strung through the trees, a red curtain creating a backstage area, and he even managed to convince the kitchen staff to bring out the popcorn machine.

As the campers file in, Willa takes her seat in the back, making sure to save the seat next to her for Muriel. When she saw him earlier in the day he’d promised to be there even though “talent shows aren’t his thing”, as he’d told her in no uncertain terms. Nadia takes to the stage to start the show and Willa searches the crowd, not spotting Muriel anywhere. Portia waves Willa over to sit with her and Asra, but she shakes her head. She’ll wait a little longer for him.

The first act goes up, one of the older campers sings a Taylor Swift song. She’s actually really good and Willa gives her a standing ovation when she finishes. The camper gets a ten from Julian and an eight from Asra which causes a squabble between the judges which Nadia has to break up. The judges are almost better entertainment than the show itself, and by the time the second competitor takes the stage Willa’s nearly forgotten the empty seat next to her. But sometime in the middle of the next act Muriel arrives, silently taking the open seat.

“Sorry I’m late,” Muriel says.

Willa scooches over to make more room for him on the bench, giving him a smile in greeting. “I’m glad you made it.”

“What did I miss?”

“The first camper sang a cover of ‘You Belong With Me’, and then Julian and Asra fought over the scores. Someone needs to take those score cards away from them before a physical fight breaks out,” Willa laughs, eyeing the judges warily.

The corner of Muriel’s mouth quirks up in amusement. “Sounds like them.”

The next act features a bunch of card tricks involving audience participation. “Is this your card?” the boy asks, holding up the King of Hearts for another camper to inspect. It turns out that it wasn’t the right card, and the judges give out a measly 5 and 3 as scores.

Willa sneaks a glance at Muriel as the judges deliberate and finds him already looking at her. Instead of looking away they both stare for a minute, only breaking eye contact when applause signals the next act taking the stage. Willa clears her throat, hoping the moment of staring wasn’t as awkward as she fears it was.

“Did you ever compete in a talent show?” Muriel asks, his voice pulling her out of her thoughts. He keeps his volume at a polite whisper so as not to disturb the performance.

“I was homeschooled so I didn't have much of a chance, but my brothers and I would put on our own talent shows,” Willa whispers back. “We used to charge our parents a dollar to watch the show.”

“What was your talent?”

“Singing, I wanted to be on Broadway when I was a kid. As I got older I realized I’m not that great of an actor,” Willa says, smiling at the memory of her younger self tap dancing her way across the barn.

“I think you’d be good at it.” Muriel sounds earnest, as if he really means the compliment.

“Thanks, but I think you’ll have to hear me sing first before you make that judgement,” Willa laughs.

“I’d like to hear you sing.”

Willa blushes at the comment, ducking her chin into her scarf to hide her face. “Maybe someday.”

“But I’m not going to karaoke.”

“That’s ok, it’s a bit much even for me,” she says, trying to keep her tone even as he continues to look directly at her.

A strong breeze moves through the trees around them and Muriel suppresses a shiver, his shoulder bumping hers. Willa wonders again why he doesn't bundle up in more clothing, maybe the cold doesn’t bother him like it bothers her. The thought reminds her of the present she made him and Willa turns to him excitedly.“I brought you something.”

“Huh?”

Willa reaches into her tote bag, digging past her water bottle and various scrunchies and nearly-empty packs of gum. Finally she locates the gift and pulls it out for Muriel to see. “I made you a scarf!’’

“You… made this?” Muriel takes the green knit scarf out of her hands, inspecting the repeating pattern with interest. “Why?”

“I wanted to! It gets cold here at night. I know you have to patrol outside a lot and I thought you might like something to keep you warm.” Willa reaches for the scarf again and he lets her take it. “May I?”

Muriel inclines his head slightly and allows her to wrap the scarf around his neck. When he lifts his head he’s smiling and Willa exhales in relief. He likes it.

The talent show goes on, though Willa and Muriel admittedly don’t pay much attention to it. There are musical acts, dancing, and every sort of talent in between and though Asra and Julian continue to bicker a little, as the night continues they seem to get it together. They manage to at least avoid breaking out the score cards as weapons.

With only a few acts remaining the tensions are high, and the crowd has only gotten louder. Willa looks over at Muriel and notices how uncomfortable he looks at the increased volume and chaos. He seems like he wants to leave, and Willa can’t blame him, it is a bit much. Since she’s not technically on duty tonight, and she wants to spend more time with him, Willa concocts a new plan for the evening.

“Would you like to go get some cocoa? The kitchen should still be open,” she suggests.

Muriel looks up, eyes wide in relief. “That’d be nice.”

“Let’s go then! I need a snack.” Willa grabs his hand on the pretense of pulling him up from his seat, but he doesn’t pull his hand away once he’s up. As they leave the amphitheater his fingers weave through hers and he holds her hand more tightly.

“Are we allowed to be in here this late?” Muriel asks as they enter the kitchen building. It’s warm and brightly lit, a nice reprieve from the dark path they’d had to navigate to walk here.

Willa crosses over to the cabinet where mugs are stored, reaching up on her tiptoes to grab two mugs. “Wellll… not technically, but I’m friends with the kitchen staff so it’s fine!”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble.” Muriel stands by the door, uncertainty clouding his expression.

“Muriel it’s fine, I promise. Come here and help me measure the cocoa,” she beckons him over, holding a spoon out for him to take. They make their cocoa, stirring warm milk and chocolate powder together until it's smooth.

Willa holds her mug up to her nose, inhaling the chocolate scent. “Do you want marshmallows?”

“Only if they aren’t burnt to a crisp. Maybe I should handle them,” Muriel laughs, and Willa turns to him with a surprised grin.

“Wait, was that a joke?”

“I can be funny.” He plops two marshmallows into his mug and puts three in Willa’s.

“Thanks.” Willa holds her mug up, clinking it against Muriel’s in cheers.

They sip their cocoa in silence, enjoying the quiet after a night of too much noise. Out of the corner of her eyes Willa notices Muriel watching her and she wonders if he’ll say something or if she should first. He beats her to it, setting his mug down on the counter before he turns to face her more fully.

“What will you do after this summer?” he asks.

Of course he would bring up the one topic she most wants to avoid. “I’m not quite sure, I guess I’ll move back to the city and start looking for another job,” Willa sighs. 

“So you’re leaving.”

Willa takes a sip of her cocoa, trying to decipher his tone as she thinks of a response. He sounds almost sad, and she can’t imagine it’s on her behalf. “I think I have to, I can’t stay here with no campers around, I wouldn’t have a job.”

Muriel’s hair falls into his face, leaving half of it in shadow, but Willa can still see him frown. “Why are you spending time with me, why aren’t you out there with your friends?”

“You are my friend and I like spending time with you, I like you,” she says. “We’ve been over this.”

“Why do you give me things? I don’t ever give you anything in return,” Muriel looks frustrated now and Willa fights the urge to reach out and take his hand. She gives him his space, keeping her hands firmly planted on her mug.

“You give me plenty, Muriel. I know this will sound cheesy but your friendship is a gift, being around you is the best part of my day,” Willa explains. “You don’t have to give me anything.”

Muriel still looks frustrated and confused, and Willa sighs in defeat. She’s leaving in a week, it’s now or never. If Muriel isn’t getting the picture she’ll just have to draw him a new one. Though part of her wants to just bury these emotions and not risk ruining things, she's never been one to shy away from her feelings. Even if he doesn’t feel the same way as her it’s only fair that he knows how she feels.

Before she can overthink it any more Willa blurts out, “The truth is Muriel, I like you.”

He tilts his head to the side in confusion. “You already said that?”

“No, I like you, as in romantically,” Willa pauses. Muriel stares at her blankly as if he doesn’t understand her words, but now that she’s started talking it’s hard to stop.

“I’ve liked you for weeks now, actually, ever since that night when you taught me how to roast marshmallows. And I know summer’s ending soon so I feel like I have to tell you now or I’ll never get a chance and I know I’ll regret it forever if I don’t. I don’t want to be an old lady still thinking about that crush I had in my twenties that went nowhere because I was too afraid to tell him so uh, here I am telling you…” Willa trails off, wondering if Muriel might need medical attention, he looks very pale.

“You like me?” he repeats.

“I do,” Willa nods.

Muriel continues to stare at her in silence and Willa doesn’t know what to say. Finally, the tension breaks and Muriel grabs his jacket off of the coat rack by the door. “I should go.” Before she can process what he’s said Muriel opens the door, practically running outside.

“Muriel, wait!” Willa stands in the doorway calling after him, but he doesn't turn. She briefly considers going after him but that might only make things worse.

Instead, she takes a seat on the doorstep, feeling like she wants to disappear into the dirt. For a second, tears well up behind her eyes but she blinks them away, feeling silly for caring so much. He’d run away. She’d told him she liked him and he’d left, there could be no clearer sign of rejection.

“Well, that went well didn’t it,” Willa mutters sarcastically, using her sleeve to wipe at her damp eyes. “I need to go clean something.”

She heads back into the kitchen, trying to ignore the well of emotions she feels as she washes the mug Muriel had been holding only minutes ago. She watches the cocoa wash down the drain, feeling like her own life might be headed in that direction. 

Her tarot reading from the beginning of the summer feels like a sick joke now, she should’ve pulled the tower instead, that would be a more accurate depiction of the summer. At least she’s leaving soon, Muriel won’t have to worry about bumping into her anymore. And she won’t have to see him, she won’t have to walk around camp being reminded of him and how she’d ruined things.

After a few minutes of listlessly scrubbing already clean kitchen counters, Willa takes a seat on the doorstep again. The sudden sound of footsteps approaching startles her and she turns towards the path, wondering if perhaps Muriel has come back after all. She’s surprised, and a little disappointed, to find Nadia instead.

The camp director gives her a soft smile in greeting and gestures to the step, “Is there room for one more?”

“Of course.” Willa scoots over to make room for her.

Nadia looks at Willa with a raised eyebrow, taking in her tear-stained face and red eyes. “I saw Muriel on the way here, he looked quite disturbed.”

“That’s my fault, I scared him off.”  Willa fiddles with the edges of her scarf as she speaks, picking at a loose thread.

“I’ve known Muriel for many years now, and while he is a very capable, kind person he does not always know how to react to people. Especially not pretty girls,” Nadia smiles, nudging Willa with her shoulder. 

Willa tries to laugh, though the sound comes out as more of a weak sniffle. “How did you know I liked him?”

Nadia laughs, “Oh Willa, the whole camp knows.”

“Of course they do,” Willa shakes her head in dismay. “Well clearly Muriel doesn’t feel the same way, he ran away from me after I told him.”

“As I said, he doesn’t always know how to react. Give him some space, give him some time,” Nadia counsels. Willa would normally agree but she has no more time, she can’t be patient.

“I’m out of time, Nadia. Camp is over in a week,” Willa frowns. “And I think it’s pretty clear that he doesn’t like me.”

“He likes you,” Nadia states, her tone the no-nonsense matter of fact one she uses when directing campers. “I’m certain of that.”

Willa stares down at the dirt, wondering how Nadia could possibly be certain of that. “Even if he does like me there’s no point, it doesn’t matter if I'm leaving.”

“Where’s that eternal optimist who stepped into my office at the beginning of the summer?” Nadia asks, putting a comforting hand on Willa’s shoulder to draw her attention. “Would it change anything if I told you that you don’t have to leave Camp Vesuvia?”

“What?”

“Would you like to stay?”

✧

[wylanvnneck]

This 2 part fic was written for the Secret Snusband Gift Giveaway hosted by @jurdannet​ and @jurdannetrevels​ for my lovely Knife Wife @lilacs-with-lavender​.

Rating: T for Tyrannosaurus

Summary: Inspired by an episode of my favourite Cop TV show, ‘Castle’, in which a bet takes place with pretty high stakes, although the plotline has been tweaked to fit this fandom. My Knife Wife said she loved the Enemies to Lovers trope so that’s what I’ve (tried to) write here and I hope you enjoy the story of Homicide Detectives Jude Duarte and Cardan Greenbriar and their mutual enmity.

Warnings: Not so graphic descriptions of murder and mention of drugs. (Really not sure what I need to tag, so please let me know if I’ve missed something.)

Posted as a Gift on AO3 | Part 1 | Masterlist

Part 2

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

“Lil, It’s 7.15 and I still need to decide on a dress, help!”

The ever helpful Liliver is currently perched on her bed, legs crossed and unruffled in stark contrast to Jude’s frantic rummaging of her sparse closet. She comes across a sparkly orange sequin dress that she holds up for her friend’s inspection.

“Honey. You’d look like a broken disco ball.”

“The girl at Saks said sequins were in.”

“She lied.”

Ugh. Damn Greenbriar for his stupid bets and his stupid dinners and his stupid brain which occasionally stumbled upon solutions. Defeat was a bitter pill to swallow.

She’s contemplating over whether to excuse herself for the night by pretending to have an infectious disease which requires keeping all other humans at a distance of five feet, when the doorbell to her apartment rings.

“Lil, would you mind answering the door for me please?” she asks, conscious of the fact that she was dressed in only her underwear.

“Sure, but when I come back you’d better not be wearing that ghastly hot pink dress I saw in there,” her friend calls as she unravels herself from the cozy mattress and leaves the room.

Foiled again. Jude’s just about out of options and the only thing that she can fathom being worse than having to be Cardan’s fake girlfriend for a night, was having to do so while being completely underdressed and out of place in a roomful of his father’s closest business associates.

“There was a package delivered to your doorstep,” Lil says as she re-enters the room, carrying a white parcel in her hands.

“A package? But I haven’t ordered anything.”

“Open it, maybe there’s a note,” she hands it over. The detective inside of Jude is wary, but she’s too curious to not open it so she gently rips open the package’s wrapping to reveal a large square box tied with a silver ribbon and tag attached to it. ‘Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo’ are the only words written on it. She knows immediately who it’s from and she feels an answering surge of anger along with an emotion that isn’t easy to decipher.

“I knew he was arrogant, but this-” She roughly unties the ribbon and tears open the lid  and inside is the softest folded up material that she’s ever seen. Gently, she takes it out and it unfolds, turning into a simple but gorgeous black cocktail dress with an A-line skirt and off the shoulder sleeves, the picture of elegance.

Lil’s silver eyes are wide when she lets out a low whistle, “Damn.”

Jude is speechless.

“Wow.” Cardan’s voice sounds slightly higher pitched than usual before he clears his throat, standing just outside Jude’s doorway. “You clean up nice, detective.”

With a little help from Lil, she had accessorised the dress with a silver choker necklace that had belonged to her mother and a small velvet clutch. Her hair was carefully put up with dozens of little bobby pins and she feels sexy and ready to conquer whatever the Greenbriar family had in store for her.

Cardan himself is dressed in a coal coloured suit, a silky scrap of fabric tucked into his jacket pocket, shiny enough to match his eyes. There’s the faintest shimmer of gold on his defined cheekbones and his curly locks are just untidy enough to look stylish and it’s unfair how handsome he is.

“So do you.”

He steps back and holds out his arm for her in the way that gentlemen did in those historical dramas that Lil was always forcing her to watch and it shouldn’t have made her blush as she clutches the soft fabric covering his arm, but it did. She blames it on the corridor’s harsh fluorescent lighting.

Together they glide to the elevator and wordlessy head to the garage where Cardan’s sleek grey Maserati stands out amidst the other rundown cars belonging to the other apartment tenants, her neighbours, yet another reminder of all the differences between the two of them.

“Your carriage awaits you, my lady,” he opens the door for her, something that most of her few disastrous dates had neglected to do in the past and she’s so used to thinking of him as an indecorous scoundrel that him being so courteous was almost unwelcome. She’s not used to spending time with him outside of work and she’s strangely out of her element.

Cardan goes round and gets in on the other side and Jude secures her seatbelt as he starts up the car and swivels his head around to watch the back of the car before reversing.

They’re cruising along in his car and the only noise is the smooth purr of the Maserati and it smells of the pine air freshener that he’s pinned up to the rearview mirror. She leans back in her smooth leather seat and watches as they pass by buildings and skyscrapers and shops, the city buzzing with nightlife.

“So, what exactly is it that I’ve gotten myself into?”

Cardan takes his eyes off of the road to shoot her a swift glance before focusing back ahead of him, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gear stick. 

“Well, it’s a dinner party with some of my father’s closest friends, all of them snobs and all of them with their own agendas. I suppose I should also mention that this party is to celebrate the win of his company’s recent lawsuit.”

“Sounds like it’ll be wonderful.” Her words are dry with sarcasm. She has no desire to spend the night making polite conversation with aristocratic stiff necks who would look down upon her, but a bet was a bet and she had to admit that so far Cardan wasn’t making her regret her decision to agree to his challenge.

He surprises her by letting out a low and husky laugh, “You have no idea.”

There’s an awkward silence. 

“Thanks for the dress, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.”

For the short remainder of the ride the only sound that can be heard are the songs being played on the radio.

The party is in high swing by the time they get there, champagne glasses clink, waiters in their smart uniforms walk around carrying trays of hors d'œuvre  and the low rumble of conversation and piano music fills the air. The private outdoor venue is large and there are fairy lights strung on the bordering walls and tea candles on each table, creating an overwhelming effect.

There’s a slightly raised ramp at the other end of the entrance where a podium had been set up, complete with a banner displaying a fancy script that reads ‘Elfhame Enterprises’, which was the name of Cardan’s father, Eldred Greenbriar’s company.

Cardan has been holding her hand since he opened the car door once again for her and now, standing at the entrance of the party and waiting for his invitation to be accepted by the guard stationed at the gate, he squeezes her hand tightly in his and the act seems unconscious. There’s a tension clearly written on his face. 

For once she doesn’t need to raise her head to speak to him, thanks to her three inch heels and she leans over to discreetly whisper in his ear, “You ok?”

This time the gentle squeeze that he gives her is definitely on purpose.

 “I’m fine.” There’s the smallest of curves to his lips.

A diminutive lady with pale skin and Cardan’s sharp cheekbones and raven hair bustles up to them, a long stemmed wine glass filled to the brim held loosely in her hand. Jewels glistened on her long and low-cut gown, adding to the air of opulence that she exuded. 

“Cardan, you’ve finally arrived. Oh and you’ve brought someone with you!” 

“Hello, mother.” There’s a tightness in his smile. “Yes I did, allow me to introduce you to Jude Duarte.”

Stepping forward she firmly holds out her hand to Cardan’s mother and is graced with the barest of shakes in return, “You may call me Ma’am.” 

Ma’am? 

“Of course, thank you...Ma’am.”

Mrs. Greenbriar gives Jude a long and thorough onceover, dissecting her with cold eyes as if she were a mere insect and the feeling is extremely disconcerting. She looks to Cardan for support, but he looks just as out of depth offering her a look of sympathy with the features that so resembled his mother’s.

“So, Judie, what exactly is it that you do?”

She stands taller and staunchly replies, “I’m a Homicide Detective for the 12th precinct.”

“Ah. I see.” The words reverberate with barely hidden disappointment and distaste and just like that she no longer pays Jude any attention, turning to her son and reaching out to possessively clutch his arm and whisper something in his ear which makes him tighten his jaw further before bouncing off, wine spilling over from her glass.

“That was my mother.” Cardan says, unnecessarily.

“Right.” Jude couldn’t help what but wonder about what sort of a childhood he would have had to endure. Perhaps his mother hadn’t always been so disparaging. It seemed that there was a whole different side to Cardan’s life that she’d never known about.

“She's - hard to explain. I apologise for her behaviour though, she shouldn’t have treated you that way.” He’s sincere, but there’s also an underlying note of sadness. The type of sorrow that you would feel if you were let down yet again by someone that you always gave second chances to. Her heart gives a pang on his behalf. Before she can reassure him he continues, as if desperate to push the subject behind them. “Anyways, let me go get you a drink, what’ll you have?”

To the side of the grounds is a long table covered with a white cloth with various bottles of alcohol lined upon it, their colourful glasses glinting under the fairy lights. Behind the bar there’s a bartender in uniform, smoothly mixing drinks to order as rich elites look on.

“Um, maybe a Martini?” She names the first drink that comes to mind. 

“A Martini, huh? Dirty, perhaps?” His trademark flirty smirk makes a reappearance and Jude knows exactly how to handle it.

“Yup.” She pops the ‘p’ in what she hopes is a seductive manner. “Just the way I like it.”

His pupils seem to darken just the tiniest bit and his mouth makes a slight ‘O’ shape before he promptly turns on his heel in the direction of the bar muttering, “I’ll be right back.”

After a few moments of standing near the entrance, moving only to accept a smoked salmon canape from a passing waiter, Jude pulls out her phone from her purse to find multiple texts from Lil.

So? How’s it going?

If you need me to call and be your ‘family emergency’ so you can escape, I can totally do that, just say the word.

Jude

Jude

Judeee

You alive?

Biting back a grin she reassures her dramatic friend that she was definitely still alive. She’s just pressed send when she senses someone’s stare on her and something about it makes her skin crawl. She looks up and is met by the sight of a tall girl in a jade green V-cut and backless dress with vibrant blue hair. Nicasia.

“Why, Judie, fancy seeing you here!” Jude inwardly grimaces. Nicasia’s voice hadn’t gotten any less painful to hear since their last encounter. Standing in front of her now, she can’t help but think that she looked slightly ridiculous in all her fripperies, opaque pearls dangled from her ears and around her neck, gemstones glistening on her hair and cerulean eyeshadow that completely overshadowed the rest of her face. Strange to think that the last time they’d met, Jude had been plagued with envy, not even really knowing why.

She plasters a carefully manufactured, artificial smile on her face. “Nicky! What a delight to see you again!”

Nicasia’s face twists for a mere second before her cheerful and friendly facade is back in place. “Quite. Although, I can’t imagine how you’ve come to be here.” 

Her words are clearly a question, one that Jude answers beamingly, “Oh, I’m here with Cardan. As his date.”

She watches as the blue-haired girl’s eyebrows fly up her forehead, unable to contain her surprise. Jude knows a moment of smug victory and Cardan chooses this moment to walk up behind her carrying two cocktail glasses in his hands. He stops right next to her, handing her a glass with clear liquid and an orange twist inside it before slipping an arm around her waist, sending a zing up her spine. What the hell did he think he was doing? She briefly considers shaking him off, before realizing that he was holding her this way for Nicasia’s benefit. After all, she was his pretend girlfriend for the night.

“Nicasia! How lovely to bump into you!” His smile is just as fake as Jude’s had been and that fact shouldn’t give her a moment of satisfaction but it did.

“Why hello there Car! Yes your mother invited me, wasn’t that sweet of her? And I was just talking to Judie over here, it’s been lovely seeing her again.” She brings a hand up to her neck and starts twirling a pearl necklace. “I didn’t realise you two were an item?”

Cardan holds her even tighter against him. “Well, what can I say, she swept me off my feet.” 

He turns his face to her and gives her a subtle wink before molding his expression into an excruciatingly sappy look of affection, the kind that only existed in extremely cheesy early 2000s Disney movies. Suppressing a smile she returns the look to the best of her abilities.

“Aww, Honey Bunch, you are too adorable!” 

Go big or go home, right?

Cardan has difficulty not breaking into laughter but he manages to hide the hysteric sound that leaves his mouth as a deep cough and if this charade went on for much longer she didn’t think she could resist cracking up either.

“Only for you, Kitten.” That almost undoes her.

Nicasia makes a low sound of disgust at their little act and barely bothers to make up an excuse for herself before stalking off, her stilettos clicking against the paved pathway. 

“Oh thank God she’s gone, I was afraid that we’d be regaled with ‘Nicasia’s Trials During Sea Travels, A Saga; Part II.’” He’s referring to her last conversation with Nicasia when she had dropped by the precinct to drop something off for him and had ended up spending almost half an hour recounting her issues with sea-sickness. By the end of that half hour Jude had felt like clawing her eyeballs out.

She can’t help but laugh at both his comment and the recollection of their ridiculous masquerade and he rewards her with a look of astonishment, before a slow smile spreads over his face, eyes unbearably soft. “There’s that laugh.”

He’s referring to their conversation at Fair Folk Inks when he’d accused her of being uptight. The recollection should prompt Jude to make a snappy retort, but instead she simply swallows against the sudden lump growing in her throat and her heart is beating quick enough for her to hear. What on Earth was going on? This entire night had felt strangely like being stuck in limbo, her and Cardan shedding their competitive workplace relationship for one that was a lot more informal, a lot more together.

She takes a sip of the forgotten Martini in her hand, trying to push her errant thoughts away. Before she can think of a way to defuse the situation, the tinkling sound of metal being struck against a glass rings out through the night air.

Unnoticed by her, an elderly gentleman in a midnight blue suit that contrasted heavily with his bright blonde hair and owlish bronze eyes had stepped up to the podium. In his ring clad hands he held a wine glass and a fork, explaining the sound that she had heard earlier. Standing a little behind him but at his side is Mrs. Greenbriar, gripping a re-filled glass of wine. There also appears to be someone else standing next to her on the ramp, but the crowd around it is so thick that Jude can’t quite make him out.

“And there’s good ole’ Dad.” Her date for the night doesn’t sound at all enthusiastic about the appearance of his sire at the podium. “Looks like he’s about to grace us with an Eldred speech.”

And indeed, the old man waits until everyone is paying attention to him before he sets down the fork and raises his full glass in the air as he speaks. “Ladies and Gentlemen, as I’m sure you all know; since otherwise all you blighters wouldn’t be here,” there’s a slight smattering of obligatory laughter, “Elfhame Enterprises has recently undergone a lawsuit, which we came out of with a resounding victory against the Seelie Corporation, as everyone knew we would. Nevertheless, let us raise our glasses in celebration and as a toast to many more years of victories and resounding successes!”

United, his entire audience dutifully raises their glasses in a toast and downs the contents, Jude herself takes the smallest of sips from her Martini out of respect, although the alcohol tastes more bitter than before. She had never been a huge fan of these big businesses that bribed and blackmailed and pocketed money for themselves at the cost of so many others and she’d been a detective for long enough to cement that dislike. Then, she makes the startling discovery that Cardan himself had not raised his glass, nor taken a sip, instead, the hand that clutched his drink was doing so so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. Before she has the time to question his surprising behaviour Eldred continues speaking. 

 “In regards to the many years to come for Elfhame Enterprises, well, as you all know I’m not as young as I once was, although I can definitely still party the way I used to,” more polite laughter,

“and it is very likely that I shall be retiring for good in a few years. Until that bittersweet moment arrives however, I am glad to announce that working right along beside me and learning the ropes will be my heir and the man to whom the running of my wonderful company will fall to...my beloved elder son, Dain Greenbriar!”

If a meteor had just flown across the sky and landed two feet away from her, Jude couldn’t have been more shocked than she was at that moment. Cardan had a brother.

She watches in slow motion as the previously hidden figure beside the now jubilant Mrs. Greenbriar steps forward to stand by his father. Unlike Cardan, Dain was the picture of his father, except 30 years younger. His blonde hair was light and shiny and his face was harsh and unforgiving, the angles seeming as sharp as a blade. His handsome but smug smile rubs Jude the wrong way, making her instantly dislike him. Next to her, Cardan wears a shield of uncaring resignation, but whilst she watches him watching his family, there’s an underlying sadness seeping from his countenance and she knows him well enough to detect it.

Jude had always taken Cardan at surface level, he was rich, came from a wealthy family with high connections and lots of influence and he was also a playboy. To her, that meant he had been given an easy life, one where he never had to work hard for anything and got a free pass into doing whatever he liked, so very different from the life that she had lived with her struggling single mother after her father had passed away during an accident at his forge. And now it looked like her disdain for his background had been unfounded. His mother seemed to only care about money and positions, his father was no better and from the self-satisfied grin on Dain’s face she could surmise that he was the golden child of the family, coveted by all and ‘overshadower’ of his younger brother.

The same younger brother whose existence his entire family and their friends seemed to have forgotten about. 

Enough was enough.

She deposits her Martini onto a passing tray and does the same with Cardan’s untouched one which she wrestles from his tight grip, before reaching out to take his hand in hers. He tilts his head and considers her for a moment before surrendering with a slight shrug, his usual debonair sucked out of him. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here.”  She drags him out through the entrance, not stopping to consider if any of the guests was watching them in the turmoil of congratulating Dain and his father.

The moment they’re out of the gates she stumbles into a nearby deserted alleyway, towing a bemused Cardan along with her. They come to a sudden stop right next to a streetlight, and unhesitatingly Jude plonks herself down onto the relatively clean looking sidewalk, with no regard for her new dress. 

“Sit.” She pats on an empty spot next to her.

Cardan raises an eyebrow at her, before giving in and seating himself in the place she’d indicated. Her heel clad legs stretch out next to his feet encased by fancy leather Oxford’s.

“Talk.” She silently encourages him with her eyes.

“I-” He starts, then stops. Struggling to meet her steady gaze he finally bows his head and forces himself to speak. “I suppose you could say that my family has never been the most loving,” understatement she thinks, “and ever since the day I was born I was nothing like my big brother, he talked; I watched, he walked; I crawled and it was always like that. He would excel at school, I used to run riot with my friends. I always knew that they loved him more.

“When it was time for me to find a job, I knew that I didn’t want anything to do with the corporate world, I’d seen what it did to my parents and my brother and I wanted nothing to do with it. So I decided I’d do the exact opposite. I’d try my hardest to fight for justice and go against everything that my family stood for, corruption, money and power. That’s why I became a cop, why I enrolled at the academy, why I used my father’s blood money to pay the fees, so I could give back to the community in even some small way. Needless to say, my parents weren’t very happy with that decision.”

His words hit Jude like a volley of arrows. She’d been so very, very wrong about the man sitting next to her. This man who fought so hard to escape his family’s legacy. Regret rushes through her and reaches out for his hand and squeezes it gently, the way he’d done to her earlier.

“Cardan, listen to me, what your family thinks about you doesn’t matter. I wish that you’d grown up with parents and a brother who loved and treasured you the way you deserved, but you know what? 

“I think you should be proud of who you are. Because everything that you’ve been through has made you who you are today; Cardan Greenbriar, a pretty smart cop - despite what I said earlier, it wasn’t true and I’m extremely sorry for it - and a partner who always keeps up with me and someone whom I wouldn’t hesitate to entrust my life to and the man who manages to charm everyone in the precinct with his magnetism.”

He’s squeezing her hand right back and his eyes are glistening suspiciously as they burn into hers. A shaky smile manifests at her last few words after which he looks down once again and mutters, “not everyone.”

“Huh?”

“Not everyone.” His voice is stronger now when he raises his head again, more combustible. “You said that I’ve charmed everyone at the precinct, but there’s one woman who appears to be immune, despite being the one woman that I’ve had feelings for for quite a while now…it’s you, Jude.”

She can hear the blood rushing in her ears as her heart thumps. He thought she was immune to him? So had she, she’d thought she hated him, but now she’s wondering if what she felt for him was so much more than hate. Yes, he had her hackles rising faster than anyone else did and his occasional arrogance was a never ending source of annoyance to her, but he was also the man who understood her when she was working overtime on a tough case, always bringing her coffee whenever she pulled an all-nighter, always making sure to inquire after her mother’s health, always making sure she had a safe way of getting home. So many times he’d helped her out in little little ways, disguising his kindness as him merely trying to get under her skin and now her oblivious self was finally starting to realize it.

He smells like pine and Cardan in the aftermath of his confession, and he’d called her Jude, not ‘Duarte’ and he had feelings for her and what she’s about to do next was something that she never dreamed that she would do before, and yet, it was somehow inevitable. She leans over and kisses him.  

His lips are so very soft, like a feather, and the moment they meet hers she bursts into flames. This kiss was unlike any that she had ever had before, It was a forge-fire hot conflagration and she didn’t care if it burned her. The flame that had always been there between them is stronger than ever and it felt as though all this time the ‘hate’ burning through them had been hiding a much more powerful passion beneath it.

He brings his hands up to her neck and gently tugs at the bobby pins holding up her hairdo. She barely notices as they skitter to the pavement, leaving her brown locks down for him to pull at. She does the same to him, carding her fingers through his thick curls, curls that felt as sleek as a puppy’s fur against her questing hands.

Panting, he pulls away first and she has to force herself not to follow his lips with hers. Slowly she opens her closed eyes and looks at him, so close now that she can see the slightest flecks of colour in his dark eyes as his breath stirs her loose hair. 

“Wow. That...wow,” he babbles, “I - we should date, that was, I mean-”

“Cardan?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

He does exactly that and later, when he asks her out, she has no answer for him but ‘yes’.

The End.

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

Liles, this fic was for you and I hope you enjoyed it. It’s been really fun getting to know more about you through our anon asks and answers and feel free to PM me anytime💕

Once again, I’m tagging: @cupcakesandkittens​ and @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​

Please let me know (via ask or PM) if you’d like to be added to or taken off of my taglist!

[tinyboxxtink]

Build Me Up Buttercup *PART 7*

Whooo man, I don’t know if this is a longer chapter or not. I had planned on splitting the situations into two separate chapters, but it seemed short so I combined them. 

If you need to catch up!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 8

Tag List: @wanniiieeee

Rafael slammed the door to the men’s room open, terrifying some poor cowboy just trying to use the john. 

“Sorry…” He nodded apologetically to the guy who grumbled some obscenities as he washed his hands and left, leaving Rafael alone to stew.

Why had he just done that?! Why did he have to glance back at your table as soon as you closed your eyes? In that split second, he had locked eyes with Olivia. They were so close it was like they could telepath whole sentences between each other; and the look she had given him in that moment was definitely saying “What the FUCK do you think you’re doing?”. 

Truth be told he really had no idea what he was doing, it all happened so fast. Really, the whole day was a blur. Before today you were just a junior detective to him, albeit a very sexy one. But truthfully you were barely a blip on his radar; you didn’t speak much, and when you did it was usually insulting him or contradicting. How had this one out of town trip completely flipped your relationship through a dryer tumble cycle? First the song in the car, the coffee in the car, the Fahey’s bathroom, and now this. At one point did he start…falling for you? Was he even falling for you? Were you planning this thing all along? Had you been seducing him? No, surely he wasn’t that dumb to just be seduced by a pair of pretty eyes and a tight t-shirt...and a soft soul who’d been through so much at so young…

NO. 

He wasn’t doing this. Not here, not now.

----

“What do you mean, he just left?”  

Once again you had fled to the bathroom, this time to update your BFF on the never ending nightmare that was this day. 

“I mean he LEFT. He mumbled some bullshit about being ‘sorry’ and just….walked away. No I’m sorry, he RAN away.” 

“Well...maybe he got scared?”

“A grown man?” 

“I don’t know from what you’ve said about him, he seems pretty high strung am I right?” 

“That’s putting it lightly…”

“I mean the fact that you even got him on that dance floor sounds like a miracle to me, maybe he just got in his head all of a sudden,” 

“Maybe…”

“Which means….” they paused ominously. 

“Means what?” you asked skeptically. 

“You’ve gotten yourself a def con one situation here, babe,”

“...What?” you were completely lost.

“Everyone knows the rule, Y/N” they kept completely serious.

“Wha-What RULE?” 

“The RULE! Once you have a…’moment’ with someone that gets interrupted, you HAVE to actually kiss them...or bang them but let’s be realistic,” they continued in a very serious tone, despite the fact that they were talking conspiracy theories. 

“Is ANY of that realistic? What happens if you ‘break’ this rule?”

“You have to kiss them in 24 hours or else you’ll just stay friends forever,” They stated like an oracle.

“Do you hear yourself when you talk, or has the crazy just become white noise at this point?” You rolled your eyes.

“Mock all you want, but you remember Duncan and Sarah?” 

“They went on one date and decided to be friends?”

“No no, they went on one date and she got called away before the end of it, thus nixing the good night kiss. And then the next time they ‘went out’, it had been 72 hours and when he went in for the good night kiss, she said they were better AS FRIENDS,” 

“...THAT’S what you're basing this insane rule on? A story about people we barely know?” 

“Well, it was also on Scrubs. Elliot and JD had to go through SO MUCH just because he couldn’t man up in those 24 hours!” They insisted.

“Oh my god, I’m hanging up--”

“WAIT WAIT WAIT, Come on Y/N just hear me out,” They begged. You sighed, putting two fingers across your eyes.

“Alright, let’s hear it,” 

“Look, you can choose to think I’m full of shit, but you gotta ask yourself: Are you willing to chance it?” 

You bit your lip, actually pondering if she could be right. 

“And you better think REAL quick, because your time has already been cut in half,”  they added. 

“NOW what the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re like, on a ‘vacation’ right now. Barba is FINALLY seeing you, like a person. A woman. Someone who’s not up his ass for warrants or bitching about deadlines,”

“I’m not that--” you tried protesting. 

“Shush. No time. You’re in like, another dimension right now. I’ll bet money as SOON as you hit the city line he’s gonna go back to his robot self and remember the fact that you two are completely inappropriate--”

“Oh come on that’s a strong--” you once again tried defending yourself. 

“I’m just saying what he’s gonna reason, babe. You know I’m right,” 

You paced the bathroom now, thinking of all the reasons you and Barba were bad news. 

“....What if he’s already there? What if that’s why he walked off? What if he’s talking himself out of….ANYTHING?”

“THIS IS WHAT I’M SAYING, HELLO You need another ‘moment’, but without everyone staring at you. I’ll bet you anything that’s what got him into his head all of a sudden,” 

Your eyes widened, remembering the front row seats your entire squad had to your little romantic moment. 

“Oh my god you might be right...they were all staring at us,”

“See?? You need to get him alone,” They went on, as you walked out of the bathroom. 

“...Fuck,”

“What? Fuck what? WHAT?!”

“I may have run out of time,”

You saw Barba approaching the booth again, Olivia gesturing wildly. The body language of their conversation did not seem very encouraging. What was worse, Amber walked up and handed them a check. 

“I think we’re leaving, Olivia got the check and she looks like a mad mom bitching out her ten year old for trying to swipe candy,” You groaned, ducking behind a man with a huge cowboy hat and following behind him to a seat at the bar, out of the squad’s eye line. 

“You need more time! You can’t just get in the car and drive back with everybody there, the ‘moment’ will never happen!”

“Okay can you stop with this, I’m already flipping out enough without you stating the obvious,” you twirled your hair and bit your lip.

“....You need to do something to your car.” they suddenly threw that at you like it was a completely reasonable statement. 

“EXCUSE ME?”

“Slash one of your tires!”

“Are you high right now, be honest with me,” You narrowed your eyes.

“Desperate times, babe,”

“Desperate times, not PSYCHOTIC times,”

“Look if you have a flat tire, you’ll have to call AAA and have them come and fix it, that should give you at least an hour. Then you can go back inside, get him ALONE, and get your moment!” They tried reasoning with you. Was that Hurricane THAT strong, or were they actually making some sense?

“...Why am I listening to this?” you kept a straight face, even though it was just a phone call.

“You can act smug all you want baby, but I can hear it in your voice; you’re considering it,” 

“Of course I’m considering it! But it’s...it’s insane. It’s like, ‘Fatal Attraction’ crazy,” 

“Ok I’m not telling you to boil his bunny, just inconvenience yourselves for another hour, drama queen,” you could hear both of you rolling your respective eyes at each other.

“And what’s more insane; puncturing a tire, or giving up something we both know you’ve wanted for MONTHS,” They pointed out. 

“How do you--” You blinked in disbelief. 

“Girl, please. I knew before you did, and I’ve never even met the man,” 

After several more moments of silence, you pulled your keys towards your face. 

“...I’ll call you later,”

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you sprinted outside to the parking lot and back to your car. You pulled the nail file attached to your key ring, and stared at your tires. 

“God forgive me…” You sighed, making a sign of the cross across your chest before kneeling next to your left rear tire.

You dragged the nail file across the tire, it barely made a scratch. Panic began filling your head, thinking of missing any chance to have Rafael’s lips on yours. Your BFF was right, you probably had a thing for him the moment you met him; even though you hadn’t even dared to let yourself think about it, until this morning. This WAS like an alternate dimension, it was like the rules of the ‘normal’ world were moot. 

The emotions of it all bubbled to a head as you stared at the tire; with a sort of pathetic battle cry, you PLUNGED the nail file into your tire and pulled it HARD across the top. Air came gushing out, the tire deflating in mere seconds. You sat back, the nail file in your hand like a machete, your breath going in and out like you had just run a marathon. Okay, you did go a LITTLE psycho there for a second. 

You barely had time to admire the work, you knew you had to go back inside to make it look like you had been in the bathroom this whole time. 

There was no going back now. 

----

Back inside you weaved in and out of the crowd back towards the bathroom, then made a turn for the booth so it looked like you had come from that direction. You walked up slowly, still hidden in the crowded bar as you heard an exchange between Barba and Oliva.

“...What I’m saying is, don’t start leading her on when you know it’s not going anywhere,” 

“How do you know it’s not going anywhere, Liv?” 

“Barba. Be serious,” 

Oh hell no. Who was she to make that decision? Surely he didn’t think that...did he? 

“HEY, hi,” you spoke up loudly, the entire group jumping at your rather loud greeting. 

“Oh hey Y/N we uh, I got the check. I just went ahead and paid for everybody, and when I say I, I mean Dodd’s,” She smiled, like she hadn’t just insulted the fuck out of you. 

“Oh, yeah? Ready to head home then?” You acted completely oblivious, noticing Rafael was avoiding your eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve got my nanny waiting on me and it’s already...8 o clock?!” Olivia gasped, looking at her phone. 

“Good lord, how long have we been here? I better call my sitter,” Amanda grabbed her own phone out of her bag as the group walked out.

“Well, we were driving for a good 45 minutes outside of Hartford before Rafael made us stop here,” 

“Wait, what?” You now for the very first time, took a good long look at the parking lot. The bar was next to a motel on one side, a gas station on the other side next to it. And then field, across from it. And for miles. 

You were literally in the middle of nowhere. 

“Oh god…” you muttered, mentally yelling obscenities at your BFF and yourself for listening to their bat shit logic. Fin glanced at you quizzically, overhearing your ranting-- and then you heard Sonny’s voice.

“Is that….?” 

You saw him gesture towards your back wheel. FUCK.

“Oh my god, are you serious?? A Flat tire?!” Amanda slammed her phone against your car. 

“Barba must have driven across a nail, or glass, or something in the parking lot. Probably a broken beer bottle if we’re being honest,” Sonny scoffed looking at the less than stellar cars in the parking lot. 

“Hey it’s not Barba’s fault!” You snapped defensively, once again mentally face palming. THINK before speaking. 

“I mean it’s...it’s nobody’s fault, right? I mean, maybe the road people? Or, drunk hicks? Certainly no one here in this vicinity though, I mean obviously,” Nope, still couldn’t stop talking. 

Olivia’s eyes narrowed, looking from you to Barba, who was staring at the pavement silently. She started to say something, but realized she had no concrete evidence to start throwing accusations. 

“She’s right Liv, it was just a stupid accident,” Fin chimed in, patting Olivia’s shoulder. 

“Do you at least have AAA?” Olivia asked you, still suspicious of the sudden turn of events.

“Oh yeah, I’ve...I’ve never used it before though,” You dug into your wallet and pulled out a worn out AAA card. Olivia took it and started dialing the number into her phone. 

You took this moment to start your mission, despite the fact that your plan was quickly running off the rails.

“Can we…?” You motioned sideways, Barba nodded and moved to the side with you. 

“Look, Y/N. The whole dance thing it was, cute. Flattering.”

“Flattering?” you scoffed. Seriously?

“But, I mean you know we’re in front of the whole squad, and we’re working,” His words cut you like knives. Was he actually implying that whole was embarrassing?

“ ..And I just don’t think--”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?” Olivia’s booming voice snapped you both out of the conversation. 

“Yeah, well-- thanks a lot,” she scoffed, tossing your card as she hung up the phone.

“Hey I might--” you walked back over to her, her red hot eyes meeting yours. 

“You don’t have AAA out here,” she spoke directly to you, the annoyance of her voice turning to anger.

“W-What do you mean they don’t--”

“I mean, Y/N-- your AAA card is for NEW YORK, and we’re still in CONNECTICUT,” 

“Liv seriously will you knock it off? Leave her alone, she didn’t know,” Barba finally spoke up in defense of you, putting space between you and Olivia. 

“I’m...I’m sorry, Y/N. I know it’s not your fault,” she apologized, not knowing it was indeed your fault. 

“What am I gonna tell Lucy? We’re going to be stuck here until morning,” She sighed. 

“Morning?” Amanda exclaimed angrily. “What about my Jesse?” 

“I’m sure Lucy will watch her at my place with Noah, Amanda. I’ll call her right now,” Olivia assured her, the two of them walking off to the side.

You started running your hands through your hair and pacing like mad, trying not to hyperventilate. This wasn’t supposed to happen!! This was supposed to be a MINOR inconvenience, not a crisis! WHY did you listen to your BFF? 

“Hey, are you ok?” Barba came up behind you and put both hands on your shoulders. 

“Come on Y/N you know that’s not what I--” he protested but you wouldn’t hear it.

“Why do you care all of a sudden? Didn’t I embarrass you in front of your colleagues?” You snapped your head around, glaring at him.

“Can we please just forget it, PLEASE? I am already getting my karmic ass kicked, I don’t need you lecturing me on top of it,” You started walking towards the door of the bar. 

“What? I’m not lecturing you I don’t--” He trailed behind you.

“EXACTLY,” You spun back around, planting your feet as you stared directly into his eyes. He stopped suddenly almost on top of you, surprised by your sudden stop; his puppy dog eyes were begging you to forgive him. 

“Exactly. You don’t want to, I get it counselor. I get it. I should have never--” you feigned tears welling up in your throat.

“Carino--” he went for your hand. 

“Don’t. Just-- I’m sorry. For all of this,” You snapped your hand back and ran back inside the bar, noticing Barba following right behind you. Your fake tear filled face now slid into a sly smirk. 

You were getting this moment come hell or high water now. 

[queercapwriting]

I haven't seen a good Fitzskimmons in a while, so if we could get something with them Cap that'd be great. Maybe juggling the holiday traditions Fitz and Simmons are used to with the desire to create new ones for Skye/Daisy whose upbringing didn't really lend itself to great holiday memories?

It was her first Christmas season with the team, and she felt more out of place than usual.

“Why is Fitz...” Skye tilted her head, unsure how to finish her question. Apparently, Simmons didn’t find that unusual. Of course she didn’t - completing someone else’s sentences was completely normal for her. And there she went.

“Locked in his bunk with a great big Do Not Enter sign on it, blasting heavy metal Christmas music?” Simmons supplied. 

Skye squinted and bit her bottom lip. “Yes?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about him. It’s just something he does every holiday season. He used to transform his room in the Academy into a little Santa’s workshop. The things he invents during the holiday season... One year, he made me a self-sustaining...”

Skye lost track of Simmons’ excited stream of words and stories and memories.

She didn’t have anything like that. And Fitz-Simmons already had their own holiday traditions, it seemed.

May and Coulson probably did, too.

Best if she just left well enough alone.

So she smiled and nodded and acted suitably impressed when it seemed appropriate.

Skye didn’t realize that Simmons noticed. No one ever had before, so why should anybody now?

Skye didn’t realize that Simmons cracked the holiday lock on Fitz’s door (she might be biochem, not engineering, but she knew how to apply Skye’s algorithms when she needed to) and sat on his bed, patiently ignoring his red face and stammering so she could explain that they needed to make extra sure that Skye feels welcome during her first Christmas on the bus.

And Skye had no way of knowing that Fitz’s eyes had lit up, because he was already on it.

She had fully prepared herself to wake up on Christmas morning in a certified mood. Fully prepared herself to put on a fake smile as she watched everyone else do their thing, then throw herself headlong into some assignment that could definitely wait, but that she’d treat like it was the most urgent thing on the planet.

She had not, in any way, prepared herself for Fitz-Simmons to wake her up by pounding on her door, shouting about Christmas and Santa Claus before rapidly descending into a loud discussion of the physics of reindeer-led sleighs and faster than light travel.

She yanked her door open, not caring that her hair was a mess, not caring that her t-shirt was rumpled from sleep, not remembering that she had only boy shorts, and no pants.

“The one day off we’ve had in centuries, and you’re waking me up because - “

“Because we have all these presents for you, Skye!” Fitz said, Santa hat yanked down over his ears, remote controls in his hands, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Jemma tugged her into a tight, full-bodied hug that made Skye gulp and - she couldn’t help it - rest her cheek on Jemma’s shoulder, just for a second, just for a moment.

She didn’t know what to say as Jemma took her hand - she gulped again - and dragged her through the bus to where Fitz had set up a massive tree overnight, stacked high with gifts, a full quarter of them for Skye.

A fully functional, impeccably accurate model of her van. (From Fitz, with proud support and car nerdery assistance from Coulson.)

The most souped-up laptop she could ever imagine (and she imagined a lot), completely customized to her, down to her preferred typing patterns and with a keypad molded to her own hands. (From Fitz, with enthusiastic input from Simmons.)

A perfectly rendered painting of what the night sky(e) would look like from LA, without all the light pollution. (No one took credit for this one, but May actually smiled, like fully smiled, when Skye looked at her with tears in her eyes).

“You’re part of the family now, Skye,” Fitz told her when he tugged his own Santa hat off her head and placed it on hers.

“No escaping it now,” Simmons added.

She spent a good part of that morning crying alone in her bunk. From happiness, for once.

+++

It was another few years before they were all able to celebrate Christmas together again. 

When Jemma first came home from Maveth, she’d hardly been up for a romantic dinner alone with Fitz, let alone a whole Christmas celebration with the family.

On Christmas Eve, Simmons shared a quiet glass of wine with Daisy, and whatever else she and Fitz did to commemorate the evening, Daisy had no clue.

She had fun with Hunter and Bobbi and Mack - it was warm and it was sweet and it was family - but she missed Simmons. She missed Fitz.

She wondered, though she tried not to, if their first Christmas together had also been their last.

If the universe had been so cold to Fitz-Simmons that they’d only ever be each other’s warmth. If Daisy had no other part in it.

But then the next morning came. Christmas morning.

The knock on her door was soft and tentative.

Jemma.

Daisy almost tripped over her blankets to answer quickly. She could never get to Jemma quickly enough.

“Daisy,” Jemma said, the name still feeling new on her lips. But Daisy had meant what she’d said - Jemma really could call her whatever she wanted. “Merry Christmas.”

She held out a mug of cocoa, topped with so much whipped cream that Daisy couldn’t help but smile. Even with everything that had been going on, Jemma must have noticed how much more into sugar Daisy had found herself, after everything with her parents.

“Merry Christmas.”

Daisy thought that maybe their eyes lingered together for a moment longer than they normally would, a moment longer than someone else might consider appropriate.

“I made Christmas pancakes. For you, and for Fitz. Do you want to come back to our room? Share them with us, before Fitz eats them all?”

For you, and for Fitz. Our room. With us. Daisy’s head spun.

She cleared her throat. “What are Christmas pancakes?”

“The greatest pancakes ever to exist, Daisy!” Fitz called from down the hall.

Jemma giggled softly. Once again, she held out her hand for Daisy. Once again, Daisy took it.

Once again, Christmas felt like it could be... home.

+++

“My father didn’t believe in holidays, not really,” Fitz told Jemma and Daisy. After the Framework. After all the torture and all the death and all the... all of it. “Celebrating was a womanly activity,” he said. His eyes were far away.

Daisy met Jemma’s eyes. Tears were burning there - Fitz was learning to talk about his father, but slowly. Slowly. Jemma’s hand absently traced the spot on her leg where Leopold - where Fitz - had shot her.

Fitz noticed. He knelt, immediately, and replaced Jemma’s fingers with his lips.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. Daisy had lost track of the number of times he’d apologized. 

“I was only in there for a day, and I did terrible things too, Fitz,” she reminded him.

She brought her fingers to his chin, tilted his head up so he would look at her. She glanced at Jemma - she was still new at this. At all of this. At figuring out where she fit in their relationship, in their love. She’d been especially nervous about it, around the holidays. Figuring out where she fit, how she fit.

Was Jemma the only one allowed to comfort Fitz, like this? But Jemma smiled and took Daisy’s free hand.

Fitz looked up at her like his life hung on her next words.

And maybe they did.

But he didn’t let her speak them. He’d told her and Jemma, so many times, that comforting him wasn’t their job. Not about this. 

They tried, anyway, and they did, anyway.

But he tried, too.

So he tilted his head so his lips kissed her palm.

“It’s Christmas, Daisy,” he smiled, with his eyes more than his lips. He kissed Jemma’s leg once more before he stood, and offered them both his hands. “My point about my father wasn’t to get lost in the past. It was to a build a future. Our future. He didn’t believe in holidays, but I do. Because you deserve them, Daisy. For yourself. And with us. So...”

He led them both off the Quinjet. He and Jemma had refused to tell Daisy where they were going, or why they were dressed so damn warmly.

Daisy gasped when he opened the bay doors.

He and Jemma had brought her... Christmas.

An immaculate igloo, big enough to fit Daisy’s entire history of crowded rooms with no real connections, complete with a smoking chimney that spoke of a warm fire inside. Two massive evergreen trees on either side of it, all strung with softly glowing white lights. A field of uninterrupted snow, as far as her eyes could see.

She didn’t ask how he’d managed to engineer it all.

She didn’t ask why he’d done this for her. He’d already said - he thought she deserved it.

When Mack emerged from the igloo, mugs of cocoa in his hands and Yo-Yo and Flint trying to get reindeer antlers on his head, May and Coulson next to them, it occurred to Daisy that FitzSimmons - her FitzSimmons - weren’t giving her anything she didn’t already have.

The three of them made a family together long ago. They just wanted to make sure she always knew.

Fitz held her hand while Jemma kissed her lips. Deke whooped from somewhere behind Mack. Flint snapped endless photos mid-laugh, because he’d never gotten over the whole idea of cameras. May tossed a snowball at Coulson, who promptly fell into a heap of fresh snow.

Home. FitzSimmons had brought her home for Christmas. 

And for maybe the first time, she didn’t question it.

[eugenesmorphine]

Hello there! Can I request a Dick Winters imagine where the reader knows Dick likes her *because of the comments* and she likes him back but she is tired of waiting for him to come to her and say he has feeling for her so she decides to make the first move.

Soulmates // Richard Winters Imagine

An: okay! So I am so so sorry I haven't been active. And I feel bad because I never really said anything. But many things have been happening in my life that caused me to lose motivation. But I am back! And I will begin to write all the requests made and work on my Generation Kill fic!

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @floydtab @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @punkgeekchic @joesliebgott @adamantiumdragonfly

Words: 1,966

The officers sat within a run down building. Lieutenant L/N sat twiddling her fingers. She was bored. Extremely bored. There was nothing to do. Not even any paperwork! Which the female was willing to do at this moment. Anything would be better than just sitting in a chair for hours waiting for some type of order from the higher ups. 

   Y/N was a young, female Army officer. Full of life and humor. Compared to the other officers, she was like the life of the party. Very similar to George Luz. Though, her humor and liveliness has gotten her into trouble before for different reasons, she never let it affect her. 

  When a familiar officer, and close friend walked in, she smiled. Knowing that she wasn't about to be as bored as she just was. "Speirs!" she shouted as jumped up. A smile on her face as she walked on over. The Captain jumped slightly at the loud calling of his name. Looking over at the smaller female officer that was walking up to him. 

  "What's up, short stack?" he asked. His voice in the usual grumpy yet calming way. Y/N ran a hand over her face and groaned softly.

  "I'm bored. Any orders yet or any words from Winters if we are moving out yet?" she asked desperately.  Ronald just shook her head and walked past her. The two had a sibling kind of bond. Strangely enough. He was nicer to Y/N and watched out for her, knowing how most of the men treated women in general. Though, they stayed professional.

  The female Paratrooper groaned loudly. "I hate just sitting around when there literally is an entire war to fight," she groaned as she sat back down on her small chair. Speirs chuckled softly as she turned to look back at her. Shooting up an eyebrow.

  "Why don't you talk to your future husband about it?" He teased. Y/N's head shot up and her cheeks became dusted with pink. Knowing exactly who he was talking about. Y/N just turned her head away.

  "You know we aren't like that, Speirs," she said softly. Deep down, the female trooper knew how the higher ranked officer felt about her. There was no denying. Though he was known not to have the most out going sense of humor and was very professional most of the time. But, the lasting eye contact during meetings, the subtle flirting whilst the two were alone. And even that one secretive steamy night alone in one of the houses back in England that still made Y/N's face turn red just thinking about. That was a night that would always replay in the back of her mind. Though the two didn't speak to one another often. The tension and internal emotions were just seeping from the two of them. And everyone knew it. Like everyone. Just no one said anything.

   Ronald scoffed slightly. "Why don't you just make the first move. And i don't mean some subtle flirting or whatever that night was back in England a few months ago-" Y/N cut her fellow officer with a punch in the arm. "Well, what I'm trying to say. Is that even though I might seem mean and intimidating, but listen to my words of wisdom. If you don't figure out what you and Dick are, or what you guys are going to ever be before this war is over. And if you two go home your separate ways, you could lose everything and anything. Do you really want to do that to yourself?" he asked. Almost leaving Y/N in a small state of shock.

   His small speech really got her thinking. He was right. She was tired of the no real moves in the making. She couldn't really find an answer to Ronald's question. She just stood there for a moment, averting his gaze because she knew he was right. Ron just patted her shoulder lightly and put his helmet on his head, turning on the heels of his boots and walking out of the building. Leaving Y/N just standing in the room alone, staring down at her boots. Beginning to chew on the inner lining of her bottom lip. Maybe she would finally make the big decision. Or maybe she wasn't. All Y/N knew is that she was going to be thinking a lot the next few hours.

///

  Night had fallen on the makeshift base. Y/N was still sitting outside, staring up at the sky. She would've never thought that a guy like Richard Winters would have her so strung up on even figuring out how to talk to him. 

   Letting out a heavy sigh as she rested her elbows on her knees. Emotions were hard. Whether she was in high school or now in the Army as a Lieutenant. Y/N pushed herself up so she was standing, brushing the little dirt that laid on her off by wiping them on her trousers. She sighed once more as she came to the conclusion of what she wanted to do. Pulling a pack of cigarettes and placing one between her lips and lighting it. Taking a long and hard drag and letting the smoke flow around her lungs before exhaling into the cold air.

  Y/N turned on her heels and began walking to where Richard would be. Her boots softly pounding on the gravel roads as the female made her way to the desolate but slightly bigger building. As the trooper walked, she took in the soothing silence of the night. It was rare. Not even a single mortar round being fired in the distance. It was nice. She took it in while she still could. Who knew was the next time to get even just a few minutes of peace and quiet.

  When the female soldier made it to the front door of the building. She paused for a moment before forcing herself to grab the door's handle and open it, pushing it ope slowly. Trying to not to awaken anyone that was asleep. Closing the door behind her just as cautiously. Turning around to slowly make her way upstairs, walking up to the door that was dimly lit from the light behind it. 

  'Should I be doing this?' Y/N thought to herself as she looked down at her boots for a second. 'Is it going to be worth it?' She sighed as her head got lifted and made her mind up right then and there. Raising her hand to knock on the door. Three knocks. Lowering her hand back down against her side. 

  "State your name and business," a familiar voice came from within. Taking a deep breath before opening her mouth to respond. 

  "Lieutenant L/N. Hear to speak with you, sir," Y/N responded. Beginning to fidget with her fingers and finger nails. The sound of a chair being pushed back and footsteps quickly approaching the door. Staring at the wooden door and when it opened, her face was met with her superior officer's chest. Looking up at him and meeting his eyes. Richard had a small smile on his lips and small dusting of red on his cheeks.

  "Hello, Y/N. What brings you to speak to me about?" he asked. Moving out of the way to let the woman into his office. She smiled and gave a small nod to the taller man as she walked in. Trying her best to control her heart as it felt like was going to leap out of her chest at any moment. Walking into the small office that was illuminated by just a small lamp, but it did the job.

  Y/N leaned against the ginger's wooden desk and looked at him. Watching as he shut the door and turned to look at the woman. A small smile still rested on his lips. Y/N didn't know whether to smile or not. She just wanted to get straight to the point.

  "Richard, what are we?" she asked. Catching the superior officer by surprise.  His eyes widening slightly and he puffed out his cheeks. Of course he knew what she was talking about, but he didn't exactly know how to come about it.

  "Wh-what do you mean, Lieutenant?" he asked, his voice now in a slightly higher pitch as he rubbed the back of his neck. The female trooper's back straightened and she pinched the bridge of her nose.

   "Dick, don't play stupid. You are a smart man and we both know that," she huffed. Crossing her arms and looking back down at her boots. Richard decided in his mind that it was probably best to cut the shit and stop acting like a child and the man he is. I mean come on. This man leads men into war each day and is incredibly smart, but can't deal with his emotions when it comes to liking a girl. While thinking, Richard realized that he was quiet for a little too long. 

  "You're just going to pretend that what happened between us, the.. the flirting. The way we look at each other. And that night back in England," Y/N paused for a second, her voice quiet when it came to the last sentence. "You're really going to pretend that it never actually happened?" though her voice might've been quieter than before, the hurt was still clear within the words. Making Dick mentally cringe at how foolish he had been acting. Pressing his lips together he walked up to her. The awkward tension in the air was as thick as dead Kraut's blood. 

  "I'm sorry.." he said. He realized he was wrong. He always had. But he just couldn't help it. In the beginning of all of this with the war, back in Toccoa, sneaking around wasn't all that bad. But progressively, as the war went on. And the more death Dick had seen, the worse it got. The redhead had gotten so caught up in the fact of losing the one he loved most, he stopped paying attention to the fact that she wasn't dead. And was still alive with him. "I was acting like a child.. I-I care about you dearly, Y/N. Though, I was scared if I cared too much and with all this love going on, I would end up getting you killed," Richard finally admitted.  Sighing as he looked anywhere but the woman leaning against his desk.

   Y/N heard the word 'love' in his words and her face softened. Walking up to him and grabbing his face gently. Turning his face to have him look at her fully. A soft smile coming to her lips. "You would never get me killed, and you know that. We have spent too long denying the fact that we are meant for each other," she said softly. "I am willing to risk anything for you, Richard. Even my life," Y/N whispered to him. Causing Winters to smile. All of his past worries slipping away as she smiled up at him. His entire world standing in front of her.

  "Can I tell you something?" Richard asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. His right hand going up to cup her cheek. 

   "As long as I can ask something of you, Dick," Y/N responded. Beaming up at him. Her eyes so full of life. Like she was a teenager all over again.  Richard nodded in response of her request.

  "I swear when our lips touch, I can taste the next sixty years of my life," he whispered. His lips only centimetres from hers. Richard's smile still present. As was Y/N's. Just before pressing her lips against his, her arms draped over her lover's shoulders and whispered:

   "Don't forget the day we met. It changed history at least for me."

  To which Richard merely responded:

"I would never dream of it, Y/N."

[tthael]

I apologize if you’ve already written about this before, but one thing I’ve been wondering about your Indelicate version of Eddie is in regard to his occasional tendency toward more (for lack of a better/less serious-sounding term) “aggresive” actions (e.g., throwing the lotion bottle, throwing the water, etc.) directed toward Richie. I know it was hinted at that the urges to aggress may sometimes be/have been the result of repressed or misconstrued attraction, but I’m wondering if some of it is also a result of Eddie’s injury and the related feelings of a lack of control over his own body? Like hypothetically, if Eddie were never injured or if we fast-forward to him completely healed, do you think that moments like that would still happen? Or am I just really reading too much into the fic and making up this aspect of it? Hope that makes sense - I just love your characterization of Eddie and I want to make sure I’m understanding as much as I can!

I actually haven’t written about this before, and I think that it’s a good thing that I take the time to meditate on it now, because I don’t want the idea that throwing things at your romantic partner is, like, a good thing.

So a lot of my thoughts on Eddie’s aggression derive from two specific aspects of his portrayal. The first (chronologically in Eddie’s timeline) is the portrayal of Eddie as high-strung, snappy, and verbally combative in IT Chapter One (2017).  Within the last year and a half I saw a post that pointed out that some of Eddie’s aggression--especially in interacting with Richie--probably derives from the high-stress situations of a) being hunted by an alien clown demon and b) being abused at home. I had a college professor discussing a history and trauma class point out that, “Traumatized people don’t always behave well.” There are the usual caveats that explanations are not excuses; however, I think that the constant knowledge that he has to return to Sonia’s house and the persistent alarms telling him when he has to take medication, so that even when he’s apart from her he can’t get away from her interference, means that Eddie’s under high pressure. And then you get to the point where all of the children in Derry are being hunted by an actual monster, and it’s a wonder that Eddie behaves as well as he does, because I certainly wouldn’t.

I usually like to incorporate some of book!Eddie’s dreamy introspection into his internal narrative in Indelicate, and I think that some of his pressures are relaxing now that he’s a) no longer living in a house with Sonia, b) acting specifically in ways that maximize his own agency (going where he wants with whom he wants, eating what he wants, actively rejecting much of her influence). However, he’s still got a lot on his plate, and some habits die hard. This is why I have moments of Eddie waiting with the perfect snappy comeback on his tongue, and then stopping himself because he knows it’s something he doesn’t mean. He doesn’t actually want Richie to never talk again, he loves it when Richie talks, and he’s struggling towards sincerity. I personally have a lot of difficulty letting go of the put-down jokes in favor of being sincere with the people I love, so I thought I’d give Eddie several moments of consciously choosing to be honest and kind with Richie.

The second influence on Eddie’s relationship to physically “lashing out” is his introductory scene from IT (1986), where he’s leaving home and Myra is chasing after him demanding explanations and wailing about how terrified she is. I know that there are lots of analyses of this scene and thoughts on Myra versus Sonia, and I’m not interested in those right now; however, what caught my eye was that Eddie sees Myra’s distress and his first thought is something along the lines of “you might as well hit her”--not that he wants to hit her and he has nothing to lose, but that his causing her emotional distress is as bad as physically abusing his wife. (I can’t recall at the moment whether Eddie’s section comes before or after Bev’s introduction, but I want to say that it’s before, and I don’t think that it’s a coincidence that Bev and Eddie’s very different home lives are contrasted.)

So I thought, that as a boy child without a father, raised and abused by his single mother--and considering his issues with (as I write it) suppressed gay feelings, and the sort of “glass closet” I write him with--Eddie’s concepts of masculinity are probably pretty toxic. I think that in order to maintain control over Eddie, Sonia probably got very emotionally manipulative when he resisted her at all, especially as he got older and taller and physically stronger than her, and that she probably cried out things like “Eddie, you’re hurting me, how can you hurt your mother like this?” and made Eddie feel like the abuser (which is, I’m given to understand, a frequent tactic of abusers: reversing the roles to make the victim feel apologetic and guilty). I’m specifically thinking of the way that Gillian Flynn writes manipulative white women who weaponize white women’s fragility--Adora in Sharp Objects, since that’s actually the only Gillian Flynn book I’ve read so far. I think that Eddie would be very conscious of what he perceives as his capacity to be an aggressor, and it would be one more way that Sonia could keep him docile.

Later, with Myra--and I’m writing Myra more sympathetically in Indelicate than I did in Things That Happen After Eddie Lives, so I’m not interested in getting into the “is Myra abusive?” conversation right now, because I’ve written her both ways--I think that Eddie likely had a sort of learned helplessness about his own agency with Sonia that he then transferred onto his relationship with Myra. In Indelicate, I write him with a lot of reluctance to volunteer any information towards her, or his emotional state, or to make any of his wishes known (frequently she shoots them down as too extravagant, the way that I talked about Eddie’s relationship to money and luxury and Myra refusing a larger bed).

I write Eddie as largely unaware of his attraction to men until his near-death-experience, but only because he did not allow himself to connect the dots between what he thought of as physical symptoms (tunnel vision on hot man in coffee shop = optic nerve impairment, see doctor); but I think that Eddie was profoundly aware of his unhappiness in his marriage and just tried to reason with himself that everyone felt like that, and everyone was miserable and suppressing their own wants and needs, because that’s just what marriage is, and any other approach to his marriage would make him abusive, so Eddie and Myra’s marriage was emotionally volatile and extremely stressful.

Which is to say that Indelicate Eddie is a powder keg when Richie gets to him.

Again, I don’t think that throwing things at your romantic partner is an acceptable mode of interaction and I don’t want any readers to get the idea that that’s the underlying message of Indelicate, because it’s not. The scene with the moisturizer is derived from something that happened to me years ago (I was Richie, the guy I had a crush on was Eddie) involving a wayward Frisbee; the scene where Eddie tries and fails to throw a drink at Richie is derived from an anecdote of the early days of my parents’ marriage (my mother was Eddie), one that my father’s coworkers and boss loved to talk about and his best friend still brings up when they hang out.

However, Eddie’s relationship to physicality is also deeply informed by a tumblr post I saw over a year ago that talked about how Eddie grew up being told that he was fragile and delicate and sickly, and how Richie did not give a shit about any of that and was more than willing to just grapple him. For this fic, I decided to lean into that idea: that Eddie longs to be treated as though he’s solid and healthy and strong, and he finds a lot of relief in Richie <i>not</i> treating him gently. But because Eddie is actually physically injured in Indelicate, Richie is being careful not to break him while also dealing with Eddie’s very real (and largely unvoiced) desire for physical contact. It’s not an accident that at the end of the chapter in which Richie and Eddie have a shouting match that Richie wrestles Eddie to the floor and pins him and blows a raspberry on his belly--which is incredibly juvenile at the same time that it’s a display of Richie’s physical capabilities and Eddie finds that bizarrely attractive.

So, on top of Eddie’s desire for physical contact, his extreme stressors, and his lifetime of maladaptive coping mechanisms--the other thing that I consider when I write his dynamic with Richie is that Richie is not physically intimidated by Eddie at all. This is not because Richie is stronger than Eddie (he is) or larger than Eddie (he is). This is because there was a time in which Richie and Eddie found it perfectly acceptable to grapple each other as a form of interactions, because Richie and Eddie have known each other since they were seven years old. I even like to think that at one point, Eddie was the taller of the two, because Richie hit a really ridiculous growth spurt somewhere around the start of puberty and Eddie was something of a “late-bloomer,” and Eddie silently seethed about it through their entire adolescence.

So when Richie and Eddie lash out at each other--largely Eddie, because I think Richie, with his fear of the werewolf and of losing control and hurting someone--they’re building on sort of a lifetime of informal physicality. Stitchy does something similar in their Richie/Eddie fic where elements of roleplay always appear in their romance, because they were kids who played pretend games together, and when you have a bond like that with someone, it does permanently shape what sort of interaction you do and do not find acceptable. I also included a flashback into childhood where Richie gets angry with Eddie and very deliberately and methodically pushes him down on the ground and Eddie cries, not because Richie physically hurt him (he didn’t), but because it wasn’t in good fun there, that was Richie deciding to throw him around because he knew it would upset him.

So there’s a lot going into Eddie’s physically aggressive responses in Indelicate--the toxic masculinity that dictates the way that men are allowed to express anger and the ways in which they are allowed to touch each other; the profound stress that Eddie has endured for his whole lifetime without getting many better coping mechanisms; the feeling of lack of control of his physical body; a regression to childhood habits; and a deep sense of relief that Richie (being big, strong, and a man) is not vulnerable to him in the way that Sonia convinced him she (and later Myra) were.

I hmm’d and haww’d over a scene in the most recent chapter in which Eddie strikes Richie with an open hand (it’s a little slap on the chest, and I wanted it to come across very like the sort of corrective smack to the back of the head that I can imagine any of the Losers issuing to Richie back in 1989 when he shoots off at the mouth), because that’s not something I’d be comfortable doing to a romantic partner myself. Richie thinks nothing of it and turns it into a dirty joke, but I do need to get more into Eddie’s decision to touch Richie in kind ways in direct refusal of that “you construct intricate rituals that allow you to touch other men” facet of toxic masculinity.

I know it’s a ridiculously long answer, but it’s a serious issue and I wanted to give it the greatest possible consideration instead of writing something flip. Because both the incidents you named (ones I didn’t even realize formed a pattern, to be honest) are drawn from real life, I can’t say that they’re moments that are influenced by Eddie’s physical disability, but I do think they’re more influenced by his emotional state. I also think that as some of his stressors come off his plate and he gets more comfortable having an adult relationship with Richie, he’s going to stop throwing things at him. I even had Eddie stop after throwing the water, not just because it was ridiculous but because he realized how out of line he was in that moment. Recognizing when you’re out of control in an argument is, I find, an important part of self-improvement; and learning to walk away or to reset is a valuable skill.

Thank you so much for reading!

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 28- In Shadow

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

Returning to his hometown, Etho hs to balance his past with his present, as well as keep Keralis and Grian from embarrassing him in from of his old teacher and town. 

_______________________________

Etho always thought he was a handful- he may act mature, but his mind is full of mischief that would make even a criminal stumble. But dragging Keralis and Grian through the misty swamps of his home, he realizes there are more ways than one to cause trouble. 

Keralis goes sloshing away, swallowed up by the fog. The only way Etho knows he still exists is by the loud splash of the bug wizard, followed by a string of curses in his thick accent. Keralis returns to Etho’s side, wrestling a stag beetle and cooing at how lovely it looks. 

Grian on the other hand, Etho couldn’t get to shut up. “I think I have half the swamp in my boots.” 

“You could just fly.” Etho points out. 

“But I can’t see anything!” Grian’s whine echoes through the thick copse of trees, bouncing off submerged ferns and aged wood. “How do you even know where you’re going?” 

“Secret ninja techniques.” Etho muses, following the trail at his feet. Beneath the water, he can feel ridges carved into the stone, under the silt. Guiding him to his hometown. 

Keralis’s eyes get wider than usual at the sound of a branch snapping in the distance. He whips his head around, pulling on his hat and brushing closer to Etho. “Are you sure we’re alone?”

“We’re not.” Etho grins. Both Grian and Keralis whimper, searching the fog like they’re trying to see a ghost. They might as well be. “The town knows we’re coming. They’ve already seen us, even if we haven’t seen them.” 

“Ninjas.” Grian whispers. The trio continues in silence, or at least as silent as Grian and Keralis can be, sludging through the swamp. Grian chatters with himself and the bug wizard, his voice bouncing up cypress trees as tall as towers, clambering over the roots. He gets a foot tangled in the submerged vines, and goes headfirst into the slow moving brown water with a yelp. “Etho, when the hell are we going to get to this town? I haven’t seen any signs that we’re even close.” 

“Ah, yeah. I haven’t seen a spot of dry ground this whole time.” Keralis adds. “Are they on stilts? How does a town like that stay out of the swamp?” 

Etho feels the carved markings beneath his feet turn into a radiating circle, like a ripple across the surface. He stops, grabbing Keralis and Grian, a grin appearing on his unmasked face. “We’re here.” 

Grian turns around in a full circle, looking at the copse of trees. “Uhhh, are you okay Etho? This looks the same as every other part of the swamp.”

“Maybe it’s hidden in the fog? Fog magic?” Keralis waves his arms around as if he’s attempting to feel around in the dark. 

Etho leans against a root, grinning. “Try looking up.” 

Grian does so, and gasps. 

Above their head, a town hovers over them. Lantern lights split through the fog, unveiling themselves like a stage curtain, warm yellow glows dancing off the wood and paper. Beneath the strung lantern lights, dancing will-o-the-wisps above their heads, bridges of plank and rope connect tree to tree and guide the townsfolk across the swamp without making a sound. 

The fog continues to disappear, and the town of Shellor unmasks in ripples. Homes and businesses nestled in the massive trunks of the trees or perched on the expansive branches, the open air filtering the earth and water tone of the swamp air through bars, abodes, shops, and shrines. For a second, Grian wishes Mumbo was here to rant about the engineering marvel above his head. How much time it must’ve taken to build a town in the sky, where they even get the fire from, and hidden out of sight, out of sound. He never even realized they were walking beneath it. 

“How...how do we get up there?” Keralis tips his head, holding onto his hat so it doesn’t slip off. 

“Normally, adults can just climb up ourselves.” Etho launches from the root, grabbing hold of a branch and swinging himself up, higher and higher. “And Grian can fly, obviously. But- I’ll grab the basket.” 

“Basket?” Keralis watches the two disappear among the intertwining bridges. A second later, something is dropping back to the ground. It’s not a basket he thought it would be. It’s a lift of sorts. The wood floats like driftwood on the murky swamp water, the walls opening to invite Keralis in. He clambers on the wood panel, surprised to find that the weight hardly even shifts. Even when the walls pull back up around him and the basket starts to rise, he feels like he’s on solid ground. It’s the smoothest lift he’s even been on, something that would put Darlon to shame. 

Etho and Grian have their heads poking over the railing as Keralis rises up. “A pretty neat invention, huh?” Etho laughs, running a finger along the rope, watching the pulley system release the weight a distance away. “It’s not used often anymore, really just for when kids need to get down, supplies, the like.” 

Keralis stumbles onto the bridge. The warm glow of lantern light invites him deeper into Shellor, and the scent of food makes his stomach growl. Spices that dance with the mist, a warm rumble of quiet laughter from the nearby restaurant. But everyone’s movements are lithe and silent, even if their talking isn’t. Everyone in the town walks without a sound, like cats stalking their prey. Exactly how Etho walks, constantly spooking Keralis when he’s in the middle of reading or baking. 

It quiets down, and even Etho pauses. Grian and Keralis turn around, surprised to find Etho prostrating before a shrine. They never took him to be the god-worshipping kind. But they sit down next to him, looking at the shrine. It’s made of stone- how that got up here, neither of them can guess. Lanterns are kept aglow and the crescent shaped bowl protected with a carved wooden gazebo. After a few moments, Etho speaks. “Manys, god of the moon. Patron to Shellor, teacher to the art of stealth. I remember my first lesson to harness my power was to watch the full moonlight travel across the swampwater. Silent, but present.” 

“Is that how you learned to be a shadow ninja?” Keralis whispers while Grian lights a dying candle. 

“Nope.” Etho chuckles. “I definitely took a more...physical approach.” 

“Etho!” All three hermits stiffen at the shrill shriek of the shop owner a few bridges down. “I knew you’d come back! Don’t think I haven’t forgotten about all that candy you stole!” 

“Ah, that’s what you mean.” Grian muses, watching as Etho is given an earful by the man. It’s the first time Keralis and Grian have ever seen Etho embarrassed, the pale skin under his white hair blushing red, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Mr. Toku, I think Etho has heard well enough.” A warm voice, quiet but persistent, cuts through the berating tirade. Before her first syllable was uttered, Keralis and Grian knew this was someone of importance. An unusual sense of raging peace, like sitting next to a swollen waterfall in the middle of a forest, exudes from the woman like an aura. She turns, and immediately sweeps Etho into a hug. “It is good to have you home, my pupil.” 

“Hello Reverent Nama.” Etho squeaks, hardly able to breathe against such a tight hug. A weak smile appears on his face, the one person he missed most when he left being his teacher, the head monk of Shellor. Nama. He doesn’t even remember her real name, he’s always called her Nama. 

“Look at you, so tall! You grew like a shoot, Etho.” She grabs his cheek, looking at the scars on his face. “I still remember the day your magic first showed itself. Have you been using my teachings, anak ko?” 

“Nama, I remember it all. But you know me.” He offers a sly grin, but nods silently. “I still like to watch the moon, though.” 

“The best teacher, and the mother always with you.” Nama’s voice dips into a lower octave at her sagely advice, before rising back up as a smile creases her warm, deep toned skin. “But you must be starving, walking through the swamp. Come, bring your friends.” 

She waves her hands, blue and white robes beckoning the weary travelers deeper into the town. A glint of lantern light catches Grian’s attention, and his eyes go as wide as saucers at the sight before him. The biggest gong he’s ever seen in his life. Taller than Grian, even with his wings stretched high above his head, the silver metal glimmering like the moon at the center of the town. Archways decorate and dance around the massive instrument. Grian’s drawn to the gong like a moth to the flame. 

Only to be thwarted by Etho. He grabs Grian by the collar, dragging him back in line with Reverent Nama and the other monks. Keralis giggles and teases Grian even as they enter the raised, thatched house. Bowed roofs similar to the arches and pagodas they saw before protect angular, woven walls and open windows. The swamp breeze filters through the mat-strewn floor as Nama opens the sliding door. Nama disappears into an upper level, before returning with a steaming teapot and five different plates of food. The boys sit at the low table, suddenly alone with the leader of Shellor. Silent as shadows, her peers had disappeared. Like ninjas. “I assume this is not just a family visit.” 

“How did you know?” Keralis croons, sipping on the warm tea poured before him. His eyes light up at the fried, wrapped treat set on his plate. His massive bug eyes only unnerve Nama, repositioning in her seat at the sight of such strange friends Etho brought. 

“Etho isn’t exactly the visiting kind. A practical pupil, even to the day he left.” 

“Nama, you of all people know how to gather information. You see what the moon sees.” She nods at Etho’s words. It’s not hyperbole- it’s her magic. “Surely you have information about husk monsters attacking all over Lairyon.” 

“Why does that interest you, Etho?” Nama gazes over the rim of her teacup.

“We intend to stop it.” Grian states, flat and plain. Etho seethes, sending imaginary daggers at the blond angel before him. He needs to be more subtle than that! 

“Finally, someone to take up the mantle.” She responds. “I have heard worrisome things, are you three sure you can handle such a task?” When all of them nod, she continues. “Then you need to start here- husks have been attempting to enter Shellor for the past few days. They have broken through our mist barrier, but have been unable to reach the town. I do not think they will stop trying until they reach the bridges.”

“They want to steal your magic, your power. They’ll kill you all.” Etho growls. 

“Exactly as what my informants told me. Do you boys think you could defeat an army of mindless creatures?” She pauses, looking at their faces. Seeing the glint in their eyes and knowing. “Excuse me, I have underestimated you. It seems you have already done so before.” 

“We’ll need more than just your information, Reverent Nama. We need supplies, tools of stealth that only Shellor can create. We need to use every advantage we can find to stop these husks. To stop-”

“To stop Magistrate Dolios, yes.” Nama nods, a growl breaking through her neutral expression. “Whatever you and your friends need, I will be happy to give. But for now, eat! Tell me, anak ko, who are your friends here.” She leans over to Etho. “Is the one with the large eyes okay? Is he some sort of hybrid?” 

Etho chuckles, and welcomes the warm food of home into his body. He missed the taste of good palabok, wishing at least one other hermit could cook his hometown’s food like Nama could. He introduces Keralis, quickly explaining his magic, then moving onto Grian. Even Nama, in all her wise counselling, was shocked to learn he was an angel mage. She knew they existed, beneath the watchful eyes of the moon, but to see one in front of her? And in a guild as wayward as Etho describes? 

Their plates are filled as fast as they’re emptied, food appearing out of what felt like nowhere. Etho smiles as he hears laughter rise from his friends and teacher. He left Shellor because he felt restrained. But to be home? It felt freeing, now that he’s an adult. Now that he has his guild, he feels more connected to here than ever before. They continue talking well into the night, until the fog fades and the moon observes the quiet swamp. 

Nama closes her eyes, falling into a quiet meditation at the dinner table. But when her eyes open, it’s anything but calm. She rises so fast her knees almost spill the table over, robes fluttering like leaves in the wind. “They’re here. Oh gods, they’re already at the barrier.

“You wanted lessons in stealth? Well, lesson number one- don’t let your enemy see you.” Nama motions for another monk, and he casts his magic circle. In one deep breath, he inhales the magic. And a gust of wind from his lips blows out every single candle. Only the full moonlight bears illumination upon the town. 

And the distant crack of lightning, an ashen storm visible through the spindly cypress trees.

Townsfolk shuffle in the dark, accustomed but alarmed. Night is when Shellor is most alive, lanterns lit and moon in full view. Nama sends her monks to scout ahead, to be the first line of defense, before marching towards the center of town. 

Towards the gong. It reflects the moonlight, blue luminescence titillating across the silver instrument. A mallet the length of Nama’s arm is plucked from the arch, but she pauses. Looking over her shoulder, she sees Etho practically holding Grian back, the angle bouncing in his boots. Like so many of her other pupils, and who is she to deny him something so exciting? She hands the mallet into Grian’s hand. He wastes no time putting it to work. With wings unfurling and hovering at the center of the circle. One mighty reel backwards, he swings. The mallet strikes the metal, and both Grian and the gong reverberate in response. A low, loud ringing warns the entire town they’re under attack. Grian still feels the sensation of the strike in his arms even after he lands. 

“The husks aren’t after anything in particular- they just want as much magic as possible.” Etho warns, pulling free his kusarigama, watching the darkness. In the distance, a blood curdling howl of a banshee turns even his blood cold. He doesn’t want to face that beast on good terms, much less a creepy husk version. 

“How can you stop them?” Nama questions, dipping her arms into her robes. She doesn’t need a weapon to be dangerous. 

“There’s no crystal.” Keralis warns. “But there is a darkness storm.” He points to the distant canopy, black clouds roiling across the sky. 

“We just have to defeat them. One by one, it will weaken the storm and purge the land of their presence.” Grian flutters over the side of the bridge, looking down. Below, among the swamp water and cypress roots, monsters and mages scrabble up the aged cypress wood. Throwing themselves higher and higher, unlike Etho’s smooth agility to the town. “No matter what, don’t let your fighters get caught by the husks. They’ll turn into one.” 

“Stealth is our trade, angel.” Nama hums, arm reappearing and offering up supplies to the trio. Smoke bombs, firecrackers, magical climbing gear for Keralis, an enchanted mirror to Grian. “We shall do our best, but you three are clearly the masters in this battle.” 

Nama steps back, and bows. Pride swells in Etho’s chest, almost causing him to tear up. If he didn’t hear the snarls of darkness consumed being of pure anger, hatred, and power, he probably would’ve. He’s never seen Reverent Nama bow to anyone else before. 

And then she’s gone. Disappearing among her robes, the hermits next see her down at the roots. Battling with a cold rage, like sunlight reflecting off the moon. Etho hands a few smoke bombs to his friends, grinning. “Let’s raise hell, shall we?”

[cno-inbminor]

a/n: drabble dump time aka random stuff i just felt like writing! ft. spy!au, iwaizumi x fem!reader. all characters are aged up. 

warnings: description of an explosion, presumed reader death, unedited. mainly angst

It’s not often that Iwaizumi wakes up like this, drenched in sweat, chest heaving, and lungs screaming desperately for oxygen. Anyone can agree that it’s never fun to wake up to a damp pillowcase and sheets that stick to skin, yet here he was, experiencing just that. What pisses him off more than anything is the fact that he knows the exact reason why he’s been acting this way. He knows the reason and yet, he’s unable to do anything about it.

When he shuts his eyes again, the vivid nightmare plays on his eyelids like the screen of a movie theatre. His vision fights to discern details through the smoke and dust, his ears are ringing from the blast, his feet stumble over broken concrete and cobblestone, his hands tremble in their hold on his spare pistol; he’s searching, pleading to an unknown force, that you’re around here somewhere.

He brings on hand up to use the collar of his shirt as a temporary dust filter. His choice of weaponry has never felt so heavy before, but he was trained to fight against the strain and the odds. You always stand back up. When you have no choice but to run, run. This was one of those moments where he’d be advised to run.

“Damn it, where the fuck are you?” Iwaizumi curses to himself, trudging through the half-collapsed building to find any sign of you. You had been too many meters away from him and out of his sight when the blast happened. There was no way for him to determine just exactly where it had come from, especially when the licks of flames behind were only growing higher and higher towards the skies. He was on a countdown to find you and get you safely to the rendezvous point, something he never thought he’d have to worry about.

He decides to take his chances and yells out your name, his voice cracking and breaking as the dust scratches at his throat like nails on a chalkboard. Gritting through the pain, he calls out again, looking in every possible direction. The earpiece in his right ear comes alive, static crackling before a familiar voice comes through.

“—jime, can you hear me? Hajime?”

“Fuck, yeah, I’m here, Kenma,” he bites, eyes still flitting everywhere.

“Are you okay? Where’s (y/n)?”

“Really fucking beat up, and trying to find her right now. I can’t see shit though.”

“Tooru’s coming around to the rendezvous point in three minutes and you need to be there. Local police and firemen are already on their way, we have to get you out.”

“Can you locate her?”

“Signal’s lost. She was last seen on the north side of the building.”

“Well fuck,” Iwaizumi groans as he recalls the layout of the building in his mind. “That side’s entirely in flames, do you think…”

“She wouldn’t go down that easy. Two and a half minutes.”

“She has to be here somewhere,” Iwaizumi argues, tone becoming frantic. There’s nothing he can do but turn back towards the fire, desperate for any sort of clue. “(Y/n)! Are you there?”

He stumbles on the path once traveled, scouring the floor and in the rubble. Then his eyes catch a flash of rose gold, buried underneath fragments of brick and stone. His fingers and knees protest when he kneels down to push all of it aside, reaching to pick up the dust-covered chain. His heart sinks past his feet and into the earth beneath him when he gets a good look at the design.

In his hands is the very necklace he had gifted you months ago, one that you never took off, one that he had eyed and seen in many nights of passion, one that he had personally clasped underneath your hair. A thin rose gold chain holding a circular pendant of the same material, no larger than the size of your fingernail, with a small diamond suspended in the middle.

It can’t be.

“Hajime, ninety seconds. You need to get out of there.”

“But—”

“We’ll find her. You have to go.”

Iwaizumi takes one more look at the fires just a foot in front of him before standing back up and heading for the nearest exit. When he stumbles out, a sleek black vehicle pulls up and he wrenches open the passenger door. Not a second longer after his bottom hits the seat, Oikawa steps on the gas, the force aiding Iwaizumi in shutting the door. With deft skills and hands, his longtime friend secures an inconspicuous escape, merging onto the highway in the direction of their headquarter facilities.

Both ignore the incessant beeping from the car, the vehicle protesting the fact that Iwaizumi isn’t wearing his seatbelt. Oikawa only needs to take one look at the chain hanging from Iwaizumi’s fist to understand the situation, quickly letting Kenma know that the retrieval was a success and they were on their way back. His eyes take a glance in the rearview mirror to ensure no one is following them before addressing the elephant in the room.

“She probably made it out and went into hiding,” Tooru hypothesizes. “Maybe she left the necklace as a sign.”

“She better fucking have or she’ll never hear the end of it from me.”

“Must you be so harsh on your girlfriend, Iwa-chan?” He attempts to tease, but it falls flat. Iwaizumi lets out a staggered sigh and leans back against the seat, staring out the tinted window. His heart beats heavily against his ribcage, hoping that in the next few hours, you’ll securely contact them and let them know you’re safe and sound.

But night comes around and there’s no word from you. Iwaizumi can’t sleep, not when the other side of his bed is empty and cold. The morning sun peeks above the horizon as Iwaizumi downs his second cup of coffee, his phone out on the dining table, sitting silent and motionless. Even when Sugawara hands him a bowl of rice, miso soup and natto on the side, Iwaizumi only eats a few grains at a time. He skips his workout routine for the day, instead taking a seat silently by Kenma and scourges through the footage of the previous day’s events.

The hours turn into days, and the days turn into weeks. The agency begins to lose hope and when the two-month mark hits, Iwaizumi watches in despair as your photo in the database gets slapped with an ‘M.I.A.” stamp on it. Oikawa tries to convey his comfort and own pain through the hand placed on his friend’s shoulder. For the rest of the day, everyone who passes by Iwaizumi gives him their best apologetic look. He can only nod and train his gaze to the floor to avoid the pity. Losing a partner is never easy, and even more so when you’re romantically attached to them.

Yet inside his gut, he doesn’t believe it. Kenma had shown him the crime scene report as well as the autopsy results – all bodies found were accounted for and none of the samples matched to any characteristics describing you. There were no Jane Does, nothing that indicated you were there besides the necklace. Whether you had hacked into the database yourself before Kenma got to it or you had just simply disappeared into the flames, you were simply…gone. It just didn’t make sense and Iwaizumi needed to get down to the bottom of all of this. You were alive – he could feel it.

The head of the agency gives him fewer missions and often pairs him with Oikawa, the best person to keep him on his toes. Iwaizumi shuts off his emotions during these times, completely zoned in on the objectives and goals, senses on high alert. He trains and trains until his abs hurt and his arms are jelly, causing Daichi to forcibly lock him out of the gym and demand that he takes a day off. This happens more times than Iwaizumi can count on his fingers and toes, so he spends his free time searching for clues. Sometimes, even Kiyoko and Yachi come by to help.

He’ll find you. He has to.

-

Four months after the incident, Iwaizumi takes a train into a small town in Germany. Thankfully, there are very few people in his cart, and he looks like the odd visiting businessman. He’s got a messenger bag leaning against his body with a worn journal in his lap, one that he had found under the floorboards of your apartment. This was the third place your journal had strung him along to, and he was really hoping you would be here.

“You have two months,” the head told him. “If you don’t find her…”

You’ll need to give up.

The unspoken words had left a bad taste in Iwaizumi’s mouth. He was a month in and beginning to lose his sanity. Reading your journal made him realize how there was so much he hadn’t learned about you, yet you knew so much about him. Had he given over his heart too easily? Were you toying with him? Did you even want to be found?

The train comes to a stop, ripping him away from his thoughts. He steps off and looks around before spotting the street he wanted. Down that road would lead him to the main plaza of the town, the one that had been vaguely mentioned in your writings. Iwaizumi begins setting himself up for disappointment so the pain would be more bearable if he doesn’t find you here in the next few days.

It’s about a 15 minute walk – cream-colored houses in an old European style tower over him as he ambles down the curvy street. He passes by bikers and crepe stands, sometimes the occasional antique store. The ambient noise of nature begins to melt into sounds of spoken word, Iwaizumi’s first sign that he’s nearing the plaza. Eventually, the street opens up into a large square. He’s greeted by restaurants and gelato shops, many people enjoying the fresh air in the outdoor seating. Children run around playing with balloons and each other, no care in the world except for their current enjoyment. Iwaizumi looks around and freezes.

There you are, sitting at a shaded table by a café, sipping on what he presumes to be a latte. A book is spread open on the metal surface and you haven’t noticed him yet. He drinks in all your features, noticing your hair color has changed and your face thinner than before. But despite these concerning changes, you still look as beautiful as ever to him.

He can’t believe it. He finally found you.

As though you felt his eyes, you look up from your book in his direction. They bore right into yours and you process all the emotions running through him. There’s confusion, pain, determination, exhaustion, but most of all, there’s love. Your heart aches at the sight of him – with no doubt in the world, there was nothing, no one you missed more than Iwaizumi Hajime, the love of your life. But it’s too early for him to find you. There was something that you needed to do, and you had to do it alone. For him.

Iwaizumi watches you warily stand from your chair. Your body is tense and ready to act, and he recognizes that stance all too well. No, don’t – !

You run.

But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t chase after you.