#The purple hair is obviously not dyed!! its natural and he's pretending its dyed to cover his genetics

[antigrav-boy]

👆👆👆

So I’ve been on kinda a Star Trek lower decks kick lately and one idea I’ve come across that won’t leave me alone is that Brad Boimlers and augmented human.

Like maybe one or more of his parents had health issues/problems that they really didn’t want passed down to their child/ would make it so that child wouldn’t survive to adulthood.

But they were still desperate for a biological child of their own so ended up going to some shady doctor/scientist who said that they would rewrite the baby’s genetic code enough so that it wouldn’t have the health issues but still be there’s genetically.

In order to do this they basically had to create DNA that self replicated and healed as the baby lived so that none of the health conditions would kill him. It was partly successful, while Brad is very frail and displays a lot of the health issues and allergies of his parent/s he’s still able to mostly be healthy.

An unforeseen side effect of this was purple hair and that when enough adrenaline is pumping and the body feels like it has to go into survival mode the self healing DNA kicks into overdrive and he’s somehow able to survive experiences that would kill most others.

Seriously he’s come back from death/near death like 3 times and off the top of my head survived falling off a mountain with a local stating he’s the first she’s seen live afterwards in a current episode.

Also this is absolutely me looking way to deeply into a joke but I’m on a roll so hear we go: Mariner makes a comment that no Brad isn’t aging in reverse he just doesn’t get enough vitamins, what if due to his DNA constantly having to repair itself it basically leaches important vitamins and minerals from his body resulting in Brad being underweight and scrawny he also has problem digesting certain foods so has a hard time getting nutrients from that. He definitely should be on some kind of medical grade supplements but he’s delt with it his entire life and to him it’s normal (his parents were not risking taking him to a doctor more than they had to in fear they might find something out).

The whole but about him dying his hair could be him being paranoid about Starfleet listening to logs and him trying to cover his tracks if his hairs ever brought up. Also another person mentioned his admiration of Una to me and watching the episode it honestly felt deliberate with how clearly he hero worships her along with mentioning how he joined star fleet because of her, Una who’s Illyrian species known for it’s genetic modifications.

I’m thinking that Brad is a genetically modified human and starfleet as a strict no augmented humans allowed rule due to past experiences and worries they have about their unstable DNA.

Brad however has always dreamed of being in starfleet so despite the risks joins claiming to be just a regular human who some less than great genetics.

Honestly I think it could also be a really interesting way to show the not so nice and downright prejudice aspects of starfleet as a whole.

Especially if Brad is ever found out, since not only would he be kicked out he’d most likely be arrested for lying to starfleet about being an augmented human.

Starfleet is in no way prepared for the fury that is mariner, Tendi and Rutherford along with the entire cerritos crew coming for them.

[killing-all-joy]

“Can we stay like this forever?” but angst (analogical, Virgil says this while they're cuddling but when he falls asleep Logan leaves to go do something that might kill him)

virgil is bi in this, fyi. sorry if i wrote this in a way you Did Not Want Me To

cw: homophobia, death threats, guns, violence, injury, graphic murder (no major character death don’t worry), swearing

Logan felt Virgil’s head fall onto his chest. They had been watching a movie together, but it had finished long ago and now they were just cuddling on the sofa.

Logan put an arm around his boyfriend. Virgil made a noise of contentment. His eyes were closed but he still managed to direct a blissful smile up at Logan. Logan looked at him with admiration and love, hand moving to caress Virgil’s cheek and brush his hair out of his eyes. Virgil hummed happily at this, nuzzling into Logan’s touch. He took Logan’s free hand in his.

“Can we stay like this forever?” asked Virgil, running his thumb over Logan’s knuckles.

“I hope so.”

“Me too,” Virgil replied, moving his head a bit so he could kiss Logan’s hand. “I love you so much, and you’re so comfy.”

Logan chuckled, leaning down to place a kiss on Virgil’s forehead. “I love you too.”

Virgil hummed. “I love you more.”

“Falsehood.”

Virgil giggled. Logan thought it was the most adorable and beautiful sound; he only wished he got to hear it more. Usually Virgil was much more composed and displayed a negative attitude. Right now, though, he was tired and with his boyfriend—two things that lessened his need to have a filter on his words.

“You gonna stay with me, L?” asked Virgil.

Logan hummed.

He didn’t want to verbally confirm and end up lying to his boyfriend, but he also wanted to keep Virgil happy. A noise like a monotonous hum could make Virgil think Logan meant ‘yes’ when he actually didn’t mean that at all.

Logan continued to run his fingers through Virgil’s purple hair. It was soft and beautiful and Logan’s favorite hair in the world since Virgil was his favorite everything. Favorite person, favorite boy, his eyes were Logan’s favorite pair of eyes, he sometimes wore Logan’s favorite smile, etc. Logan constantly thought about how lucky he was to have Virgil.

After ten minutes of silence, Virgil fell asleep. This didn’t surprise Logan; Virgil hadn’t gotten more than three hours of sleep the night before. Him napping was good.

Logan stayed still for about thirty minutes after Virgil had fallen asleep, wanting to make sure he had entered a deeper sleep before Logan moved. When that had happened, Logan slowly untangled himself from Virgil and moved off the sofa, trying to be as undisturbing as possible. Logan stacked a couple pillows to replace himself so Virgil wouldn’t notice he was gone. He then tiptoed to his room, took a gun from the dresser, and then tiptoed to the door where he took the keys off the keyring and exited the apartment.

He quickly made his way to his car. He drove off and into the downtown area of the city. Parking in the parking lot of a small park, he rechecked his pockets to make sure he had the gun before exiting his car. He locked it, and then started walking to a nearby alley.

Logan wasn’t here for no reason, and that reason was correlated with why Virgil hadn’t slept well the previous night.

At around 4 a.m., Virgil had been awaken by a threatening text from an ex-girlfriend. She didn’t know Virgil was bisexual when they dated. She had learned yesterday, was very disgusted, and threatened to kill Virgil (perhaps worse) for not telling her that she was dating someone who was also into guys. She demonstrated that she had the means to and would strike when least expected. Logan had come over to Virgil’s house at eleven in the morning when Virgil didn’t show for their breakfast date, and Virgil, sleep-deprived and terrified, told Logan everything.

Logan was scared. This ex-girlfriend could clearly kill Virgil—and would, if she got her way. So, Logan had texted her, pretending to be someone with money to give her. They were to meet in this alleyway at 10 p.m.

It was precisely that time now (this was a rare instance where Logan didn’t want to be early), so Logan quickened his pace. He kept the hand on the pocket containing the gun.

He entered the alleyway. It was dimly lit by a streetlight, so he could faintly see the back of a person ahead. He figured it was Virgil’s ex. She had long, fairly straight blonde hair which was clearly dyed, and was wearing a brown leather jacket and light blue jeans. Her boots were dark brown and worn.

When Logan had reached the distance he wanted to be from the woman, he drew his gun. It was clear she heard him, because she started to pivot on her heels to face Logan.

“I don’t see a briefcase,” she called, taking a couple of stalking steps towards him.

“I do not have one with me presently.”

“Where is my money?”

Logan didn’t answer that question. He took a few steps forward of his own. “I did not bring money to this rendezvous.”

Her hand started to drift towards her pocket.

“You will leave Virgil Storm alone forevermore.”

She laughed. “You’re what? His boyfriend? Come to protect him? I bet you’ve never held a gun in your life.”

Logan rolled his eyes. He didn’t answer, though, as any information could give her the upper-hand. He pointed the gun at her head.

“You will not kill Virgil Storm,” he growled, knuckles going white on the gun.

She laughed again. “No.”

“I do not want to use force.”

She took another step towards him, feigning curiosity while still keeping the conceited confidence that gave her the dominating air in the conversation.

“If you don’t want to use force,” she said, running her tongue across her upper lip, “then why do you have a gun?”

“I will use force if necessary.”

She pouted. “But it’s not necessary. You could leave without any harm done to you, and-”

“You will kill Virgil.”

She nodded in consideration. “Yes, I will. But, still. You don’t have to use force. You could just as well let nature run its course.”

“I will not allow you to kill him.”

“You, someone clearly well-read and with a profitable career ahead of him, probably in science, are going to throw away everything you have for your boyfriend? When you have obviously never even come close to committing murder ever before?”

Logan didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he cocked his gun.

“If you promise you will not kill Virgil, I will spare you,” Logan threatened, gritting his teeth.

“Alright, you want to play dirty,” she conceded with a sigh.

Within the second, the gun in her hands was cocked, aimed, and had her hand on the trigger.

Logan fired.

Her eyes widened and her movements stopped, her firing arm slackening. She obviously didn’t think Logan was capable of murder. The bullet soared through the air and landed in her forehead.

Logan watched as her body fell backward. Her head hit the asphalt with a crack of what was likely the breaking of bones in the skull. Logan switched on the safety to his gun and slowly put it down, satisfied.

“LOGAN!” he heard a voice shriek, followed by dashing footsteps.

The voice was loud, terrified, and definitely spoken by someone who was currently crying.

“LOGAN!” There it was again, accompanied by the running footsteps that were getting progressively louder.

Logan frowned. Who could that be? He hadn’t told anyone what he would be doing.

Logan watched the figure round the corner and enter the alleyway. Logan’s eyes widened as he realized that it was Virgil.

Nevermind that Virgil was supposed to be asleep, how did he know he was here?

“LOGAN! Oh god, Logan!” Virgil shouted, running over to him. He stopped three feet in front of Logan.

“Why are you awake?” asked Logan curiously. “And how did you know I was here?”

“The neighbors were loud and you got a text that worried me so I checked it out,” said Virgil dismissively. “What happened?”

His last sentence was frantic, worried.

“Are you bleeding? Do I need to call 911? I heard a gunshot and I got terrified,” Virgil rambled. “Obviously someone fired a gun here and I was so scared they killed you, L, so goddamn scared...what the hell is wrong with you, going to a dark alleyway at night? I thought you said you’d stay.”

“I did not say I would stay, I merely made a noise acknowledging that I had heard your request,” Logan corrected.

Virgil glared at him. “Those were the less important of my questions.”

Logan sighed. “I am unharmed, Virgil. You do not need to call 911.” Logan glanced behind him. “In fact, I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

Virgil looked confused. “Then what happened? Did they miss you? Why aren’t you in shock? Where are they?”

Logan took a step to the side and gestured behind him. “No one missed a shot.”

Virgil’s bewilderment did not cease. “I see a dead woman. Who killed her? Were you tending to her?”

“Take a closer look, my love.”

Virgil would have blushed at the pet name if it wasn’t such a dire situation. Virgil took a few cautious steps towards the corpse. His eyes widened in recognition.

“Oh...oh my god, it’s her,” said Virgil, no longer confused. “Who killed her?”

Virgil turned around to face Logan in time for him to hold up the gun. Virgil’s eyes widened. Logan was scared that it was in fear.

“You...you killed her,” whispered Virgil.

“I did not want to,” said Logan matter-of-factly. “Truly, I didn’t. However, she was aiming to kill me and I had no choice.”

“For me.” Virgil still seemed to be in shock by the news.

Logan blinked. He looked down at the gun thoughtfully. “Yes. She demonstrated the means and the desire to kill you. I confronted her. She tried to kill me and stated that she would kill you in the future. I killed her instead. Simple.”

Virgil shook his head. “You killed someone, risked so much...for me?”

Logan bit his lip, but nodded. There was a moment of silence.

“You idiot!” Virgil suddenly shouted. “You absolute moron! Why would you do that? I told you not to do anything about it, that I would be okay. We could have called the police! But no, you went out here and almost got yourself killed!”

“We fucking hate the police, Virgil!” Logan replied, not matching his boyfriend’s volume but still raising his voice. “Besides, she could have struck at any time! I was unwilling to take any chances! Not when your safety is concerned!”

“I am not worth you risking your life for!”

“Like hell you aren’t!” Logan shot back. He took a deep breath, calming himself. “I’m sorry for yelling. But what’s done is done. She is dead by my hand. You are no longer in danger.”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed. “You are much less bothered by that than you should be.”

“About murder?” asked Logan coolly. “You mistake my impressive education for having prosperity in my youth. I grew up in the most dangerous and criminal neighborhood in the city. I have certainly fired a gun before, and I have witnessed murder more times than that.”

“Have you killed before?”

Logan shrugged. He didn’t answer. “Let’s go home.”

“You haven’t.”

“There is always a worthy situation. Protecting your life will forever be one of them.”

Virgil was silent, looking as though he didn’t know how to respond.

“Thank you,” he muttered, looking down to his shoes. “Can we go home?”

“Of course, my darling,” replied Logan, putting his arm around Virgil. Virgil blushed at the term of endearment, leaning into his boyfriend’s side. “Now we can stay in each other’s arms without any external interruptions.”

Virgil smiled. “Logan?”

“Yes, V?”

“The authorities have wanted her dead for a couple of years now for a variety of murders. I don’t figure they will investigate someone who finally took her down.”

Logan grinned. “Thank you, Virgil. I was worried about that.”

They walked back to Logan’s car.

“I can’t wait till we get home and I can cuddle the shit out of you,” Virgil said excitedly as he put on his seatbelt.

“Nor can I.”

~

Taglist (I forgot it for my last one, sorry!): @somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @neo-neo-neo @fander-fic-recs

~

I know I kind of strayed from the prompt (did I?) so I’m sorry for that. It’s not as angsty as you probably wanted it to be, Lila, but at least there was a happy ending (right?). I hope you liked it!

[swtorramblings]

Sith Science-9: Vaylin and Losrss'Tremma at Nathema

Vaylin and Nox by @fleeting-sanity​, commissioned by @lord-sutherland​, reposted with permission. Apologies to ST:TNG for the title of the story.

Losrss'Tremma stood calmly, an eye in the heart of the storm, which only infuriated Vaylin more. She glanced at the smashed consoles and melted walls, at the lightning still coming down all around her, felt the wind blowing back her hair. Finally, she just said, blandly, “You keep saying how little you care. Why this drama?”

Malora was angry, but at Vaylin, not at her. “Would you please stop destroying my things?” she shouted. Nox thought that it wasn’t a good time to worry about possessions, but considering everything, kept that to herself. Vaylin was screaming, “I don’t care about her, but how could you let her go? She’s dangerous!” “Yes. I’d like her to be dangerous for me instead of to me.” Vaylin was starting to calm down, slightly. She said, “And you think you can control her?” “No more than I can control you. And I wouldn’t want to.” “Fine. What makes you think you can trust her?” “I really don’t think you’d understand.” The lightning had stopped falling, at least, and the wind was dying down. “Tell me anyway.” “You.” Vaylin paused, then laughed, bitterly. “What, did you threaten me? You know that won’t work.” Vaylin was so annoying when she didn’t live up to her own intellect. “No, which is part of why I didn’t. She’s just grateful to have you back.” Malora put in, “Really? She said that? To you?” “I am a very good conversationalist.” They all just stood in silence for a moment. Vaylin finally said, predictably, “And you believed that.” “I did. I could feel her emotion and heartache.” And am not above using them to keep Senya loyal, she didn’t say. “It won’t last. It never has.” “Perhaps. We can deal with that time if it comes.” “Do you think she’ll tell anyone?” Malora asked. “She’ll keep it a secret for now. I said she could tell Arcann.” Vaylin scowled at that, but before she could say anything, Nox went on, “He must be suspicious. Even if he didn’t feel your return as strongly as Senya did, he has to know something has changed. Her recent behavior will make him even more suspicious. It’s better to control when and how he finds out.” Vaylin looked like she was going to throw another tantrum, but she suddenly stopped, tilted her head, and grinned. “Oh, you should have let me. It would have been so much fun.” Malora said, “Yes. Far too much fun.” “There is no such thing as too much fun.” Malora just waved that off and starting to see what she could salvage. Vaylin, always helpful, went and sat down on the damaged furniture. Nox had news, anyway, something that was reported to her as she had raced to get to Asylum before Senya. “It’s sooner than I’d hoped, but I need Vaylin to help me with a task.” Vaylin’s eyebrow lifted in vague amusement, while Malora gave her a sharp look. Vaylin just said, “Oh?” “Yes, I think it’s safe to say that you’re the only one who can deal with it, in fact. If anyone can.” “Oh, now you’re just teasing.” “I’m not. It involves Nathema, and what Vitiate did to it.” Another long silence, this time with Malora breaking it. “You can’t be serious.” “Sadly, I am.” “You want to risk all of my hard work?” Vaylin was obviously stricken, but still said, “I’m so glad you’re concerned.” She then stood, turned away from them both, and left the room. Nox just watched her leave, then said, “I think you annoyed her.” “It won’t be the first time. She’s hard not to annoy.” “Something you have in common, then.” “You’re trying to distract me. And whatever tedious anger she’s feeling, it’s because of you. Why would you want to take her there? Why would you want to hurt her like that?” “Something has happened. I want to make sure it doesn’t go any further, and she might be the only way.” “What if she’s not enough?” “She has to be.” Malora mulled that for a few moments, then said, “If it’s that bad, why aren’t you bringing more? I should be with you, and her. If only to monitor her.” “You will be. On the ship, not the planet.” “Why?” “Because if it comes down to it, someone needs to escape to give warning.” Malora gave a bitter laugh. “As if the Empire or the Republic would believe me. I’m not loved by either, you know.” “Yes. Convince them.” That’s when Vaylin returned, wearing clothes neither other woman thought they’d ever see her in again. Malora just lifted an eyebrow, leaving Nox to say, “I thought you wanted to leave that life behind you?” Vaylin took a deep breath, then said, stiffly, “I do. I am. But if I am going to return to that world, it is going to be as an Empress.”

On the way down, Losrss'Tremma had explained the mission. She thought Vaylin was taking it very well, considering. She didn’t outwardly show any sign of the fear she had to be feeling. In fact, she was more controlled than Nox thought possible. Almost calm, but she had to wonder wonder how brittle that calm was. She was off the ramp within moments of the ramp hitting the ground, before Nox had adjusted for the assault on her own senses, and stalked into the all but obliterated Sanitarium, only waiting briefly for Nox to catch up. When she had, she said, “We don’t need to go inside.” Vaylin sighed, and said, “Yes, I do.” Without any warning, no sign of strain or even lifting a hand, the rubble in front of them shifted, cracked, and finally was violently thrust away from them. Malora had thought there would be some lessening of her power. Nox didn’t see it. Vaylin looked at her handiwork, smiled slightly, and began down the tunnel she had formed. A path to the place she had been tormented, and Nox followed her down, drawing her lightsaber to provide the two of them a source of light. The Sanitarium had been placed at the old ritual site, the better to focus that ancient power for its experiments, and perhaps more, Nox now understood. The pressure on her mind increased, but if Vaylin could resist it, so could she. Eventually, with a few more displays of power, they reached their apparent destination, the now mostly smashed glass cage. All the better to observe their subject. She had seemed more like a force of nature than a human being while Nox couldn’t get a clear view of her face, but now that she had caught up, she could see that Vaylin was breathing heavily, had broken into a sweat. She almost asked if she needed to rest, but then thought how she herself would react to anyone questioning her own strength. She simply waited for Vaylin to do whatever she was here to do. Which was to enter, dig for a few moments, now with her bare hands. She picked up a small object, perhaps ironically saved from destructive power she had unleashed here by the cage itself. A small carving, created by a child that hadn’t existed since they had broken her. A bear. Nox was surprised and blurted out, “You came here for that?” “No, I came here for my dreams of freedom. But it was a picture, and must have burned. But this will do.” A picture? What picture could be that important? She would have to think about that later, she knew. Right now, her thoughts were too muddled. “It’s here,” Vaylin said. “Yes, I feel it. Are you ready?” “Yes. For the last time. Let’s finish this.” There was a chuckle. His voice came out of the darkness surrounding them. “Yes, Daughter, let’s.” Vaylin gritted her teeth. “No, ‘Father’, not this time.” “I can feel your fear, and your pain. Give in, child, and I will free you from both. And from your new masters.” At that, Vaylin laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I have no masters. I have allies. And you are not my father.” “Then who am I?” Nox answered that. “Nothing. No one. An echo from when a world died, pretending to be something it thinks she would fear.” The voice shifted to something older, a voice Nox knew, the voice of her former Emperor. “And what do you fear, my former servant?” Vaylin and Losrss'Tremma looked at each other. It was her turn to laugh. “Come now, I don’t fear him. The Emperor was useful to my plans, and when he no longer was, I hunted him down and destroyed him.” The voice changed again. Neither recognized it. Perhaps this was Tenebrae? It didn’t matter. “Very well, then. What are you here for? Whatever I am, I can still grant you power, knowledge.” “None of which is worth the price. Why would you think I brought her?” “I know why. Because you think she might be able to destroy me. I assure you, she…” Vaylin interrupted. “Oh, do shut up.” There was a burst of power, purple lightning raging upward. The tunnel they had followed, that Vaylin had cleared, was now exposed to the sky. The dead air of this world began to stir, that same gale Nox had experienced in their final confrontation raging once again. As the storm intensified, the energy took form, a giant figure struggling against it. The thing roared, no longer even trying to sound like human or Sith. Its skin cracked, light pouring from it, as it reached down towards them. For a moment, Nox worried, win or lose, that neither of them would live through this, but then the thing began to wither, to collapse back in on itself. In one last burst of thunder, it was gone. She only realized she could still hear when she heard Vaylin, laughing weakly. “Thank you for bringing me. That was fun.” Then she sighed and would have collapsed, but Nox caught her and held her up. “Well done, Empress.”

[acrobaticcatfeline]

Pace Yourself; an ace Patton fic Ok so I might make more of this, depending on if this goes well. This was tons of fun to write, if a little challenging. If you are ace I would be honored to get some feedback to improve this! warnings: toxic family, homophobia/anything lgbt phobia, self hatred, thoughts that aces/aros are not lgbt, swearing, I think that’s all. word count: 1179

It was hard for him. He put on a face, he said he loved everyone, so no one would look deeper into him, to see that he was different. That he was an abomination in his family’s eyes. That he was wrong. And he hated it. He wished that he wasn’t who he was, that he was able to seem normal to his parents, but he couldn’t, that wasn’t who he was, and he will never be that. But as he was on his way to his first day at his new college campus, he was in awe at how many people were waving flags for pride month. He wanted to be like them, but Patton Rivera wasn’t ever going to be like them, he didn’t belong in the community anyways, he’d seen plenty of posts on Tumblr about how asexuality was wrong and wasn’t welcome with the LGBT+ community. So, he gripped his bags tighter and walked faster to his new room.

His phone started buzzing and as soon as he answered he had a voice shouting in his ear.

“PATTON PATTON WE��RE ROOMMATES PATTON WHERE ARE YOU COME ON THE ORIENTATION IS HAPPENING IN AN HOUR AND WE STILL NEED TO EAT AND CHANGE!!!!!!! PATTON!!!”

When he heard the voice of his childhood friend he knew he was in for a treat. He had known for a good two years that Roman was going to this college, one a few states away from their home, but didn’t know himself until a few months ago that he would as well. To know that he would be rooming with his best friend was probably the best news since finding out he had been accepted. The man started running towards his dorm room as fast as he could.

 Later during the day, the boys were wandering around the campus when Patton had seen someone wearing familiar colors. They were in a commons, and the ace was seated on the stairs, with a similar looking man standing next to the stair case. In fact, they looked very similar to Roman and Patton. He normally wouldn’t have done anything, considering the fact that he was so far in the closet that he could have been some sort of Narnia, but the man was not only wearing his colors, but he was surrounded with multiple people in aro colors, and they were all in the plaza, where everyone could see.

The group all had their hair dyed the colors of their flags and dressed in matching outfits. The one with ace colors had long fringe and a big baggy jacket that was black with a purple and grey lining. His feet were moving before his brain could process it, and his mouth flying before he could control it.

“how can you all be out? I-I thought aces and aros weren’t welcome in the LGBT community? I- this wasn’t because- I’m- you aren’t bad or wrong, I just, everything I see says that aces and aros were just confused or immature, how can you do it? I- nevermind I’m just-you guys look really nice I need to- uh, go-”

“hey. Calm down there dude, its fine. Sit down a bit, your friend can join too” the two stopped in their tracks and sat in front of the older students. “the things saying aces and aros aren’t ‘welcome’ are bullshit. Just like gay transphobes aren’t part of the community, neither are those who try to say that the absence of romantic or sexual attraction. They are assholes who don’t deserve to be around the LGBT community. You aren’t confused or immature. You might still not be certain on which label fits, or maybe you aren’t comfortable with labels. That doesn’t invalidate how you feel. Also, thanks, the hair took hours.” The smile coming from the man-made Patton feel safe.

“I’m-I uh, I’m p-Patton Rivera, I’m brand new so I uh, hi!!! What’s your name?” most of the people dispersed aside from the man and one glasses clad aro who didn’t seem like he was going anywhere.

“oh yeah, heh, I’m Virgil sanders, this is my twin; Logan. Who’s your friend? He looks like a princey.” Virgil’s brother kneed him, before sitting down next to him. “he’s not much one for talking. He thinks princey is interesting.”

“Falsehood!” shouted the man, logan, indignantly.

As soon as Virgil finished, Patton’s mother rang. “hello mother dear. Yes, I’m safe… y-es I’m going to the local church tomorrow… yes, I will uh, hook up with some lady while I’m here… I know you want grandchildren mom… yes, I, I wouldn’t think of attending the uh, homosexual parade against god… obviously they’re con-confused, its-it’s not natural I know… please don’t come and check up on me, I have Roman, and I’m almost 20… Roman is not a bad influence mother. He’s been my friend since pre-k I’m not abandoning him… he’s literally right next to me mother would you like to talk to him?” at this point Virgil grabbed the phone with a strangled gasp coming from Patton.

“hello ma’am. This is a friend of your son, coming in with a PSA that you don’t own him… really? Seems pretty threatening to me… he can’t formulate a sentence… why yes, I am celebrating pride, I’m glad you brought that up! It seems to me that your son would be a heck of a lot happier without the preaching that homosexuality et cetera is wrong… he’s 20 you can’t forbid him from doing anything. Including what sounds like you wanting him to abandon his friend… are you funding his college? Oh no? then explain why he needs to follow your rules… exactly, would you like to apologize to your son? Welcome to twenty gay-teen ma’am… I’m here for the next three years, test me… ok cool, bye!”

Patton stared horrified at the man. Virgil handed him back his phone with a shrug.

“that should keep her off your back. Sorry bout that, it was wrong of me, but I hate hearing people having to talk to smallminded people and pretend they agree. No one should ever be spoken to that way. So as an adult you’re free to be you, so what are you? You seem pretty interested in the pride decorations, and you walked up to us, so its obviously not just the bright colors.”

Patton looked over at Roman, who had been the quietest he’d ever heard him. “I’m uh, I think I’m panromantic asexual. Not sure specifically what kind of ace, but yeah. Thank you. I- I really just want to start over here. I don’t think it’ll be too soon, but I just want to stop hating who I am.”

The smiles exchanged felt like a promise. The four of them together against the homophobic agenda. When Virgil spoke again they knew it was going to be a good year.

“don’t worry about it pat. The best way to survive college is to pace yourself and get some good friends. You’ve already got one of those things.”

taglist: @princelogical

THANK YOU ALL FOR READING!!!!!!!!

[hellrager]

Love is Hell

A little Follow up Drabble from @thezomblr‘s Drabble of Brian dealing with being in love. Here’s Damien dealing with the fact, that he realizes that he’s in love with Brian. Based on past interaction and headcanons we made up. Also guest appearance of @doviilove !! Enjoy.

Damien was sitting on his bed, hand clutching the fabric of his shirt above the spot where his heart was. Ever since that one time, his heart didn't stop beating. It felt like he was being constantly sick, and his breathing was like sandpaper. Usually he would describe a state like that as 'fucking metal' cause this might mean that he was either dying or that he had caught a horrible virus or spell. But it was none of that, neither did drugs ever make him feel like this. It was way stronger than any drug he had ever taken, and lasted like.. Forever!

The Demon snarled and punched one of the spikes at the corner of his bed. It caused the whole thing to shake, just then did his phone vibrate. A loud guitar solor shrieking to life. His ringtone. When Damien saw who was calling, he sighed and swiped left. "Hi dad." He didn't sound very motivated, neither did he look the part. For his dads always did a video call. Probably to check on him and make sure nothing too weird was going on in the background.

"Hello Son, we haven't talked in days! How have you been? ... Something happened, I can see it on his face... Eh??               Are you sure? Damien, are you alright??"

"Yes, yes I'm fine! Fuck.. I just had a rough week, everything is fine, dad." He ran a hand through his hair. Obviously, none of his dad's were fine with that response, for they were frowning at each other. However, they tried not to pry. "Well if you're sure. Please give us a call if there's anything we can do for you."

"Well... Since we're already talking. I do have a question."

Both his fathers perked up, waiting for Damien to be done rubbing his neck and looking like he did not care. "You love each other, yeah? Can you like... Describe how that feels? Like, physically or something.."

They looked at each other again, then they smiled toothy smirks. "That is hard to explain but let me try it this way, it feels like your organs are trying to burst from your body any minute! Your heart, your lungs, your stomach! All just... POP! What your father is trying to say is.. That love can appear as if it weakens your body. You might feel sick or your legs won't carry you as they used to. But you realize that it strengthens you the closer you are to the person you love." At that, one moved an arm around the other, purple and red flames dancing in the background.

"...Huh. So it makes you feel like you can beat up the entire world,               cause that person got your back?"

"You could phrase it that way, yes."

Damien frowned, obviously not looking at his dads anymore, who were now exchanging small kisses. When Damien did look, he grimaced. "Fuck! Can't you wait with that when we're done calling?! Gross!... "

They cleared their throats. "Is there anything else you want to know?"

"No.. I think I got it. Thanks. I will call you again soon." Once he ended the call, Damien fell back onto his bed, sighing loudly. So loud, it caused Shuck to nudge him with all three of his head. Damien petted the ceberus while staring at the ceiling.

   "So it makes you feel weak and strong at the same time? What a load of bullshit..."

Just in that moment, the image of Brian's face flickered before the devil's inner eye, causing him to blush and sit up, shaking his head wildly. "Fuuuuuuuuuuck! Stop that! Who the fuck said you were allowed in my head when I don't allow you to you stupid, green piece of shit?!"

He was yelling at the air. Shuck was giving him a worried look and when Damien realized that he was shouting at nothing, he ran a hand through his face, took a deep breath and then visibly deflated again. "I love this green piece of shit, Shuck. What should I do?"

Shuck looked at him, with these big, loyal, flaming eyes. Since he didn't know how to help Damien, he leaped at the devil and licked his face in order to cheer him up. This caused Damien to give an amused snort and pat the canine's coat. "Yeah well I know you love me you stupid oaf. Wait....LOVE. Shit, I know what to do!"

Damien jumped up, grabbed his jacket and ran downstairs, then towards the first fire around and with a poof, he disappeared in flames. School had started anyway, and while everyone was trying to get to their first class, Damien had a different goal. He was headed for the school therapist's office, hands in pockets and with a rather determined look on his face.

That was until a strong hand landed on his shoulder, causing Damien to turn around and stare into beautiful, silver eyes. "Dude, class is this way. In case you forgot." Brian pointed at the open door, a light smirk playing at the corner of his lip. "Unless you wanna ditch, then better do it now before that hag sees ya." Damien blinked a few times before he faked a confident smirk. "Nah man, I got a therapy session now. That's my free ticket out of this shit without detention. See you around." He gave Brian another smirk before walking toward's Ms. Dove's office door. Though he stopped to watch Brian for a bit longer. It was a frustrated look Damien had on his face, but the longer he watched, the more drawn in did he seem. The way he always kept his stupid hair so unkempt. Fuck, he wanted to run his finger's through there and--

The sound of someone clearing their throat, caught Damien's attention and tore him right out of his daydreams. He turned to stare at his therapist. No one other than Ms. Dove herself. "Mr. LaVey, your next session isn't until tomorrow." She smiled though, it was obvious she knew something was up.

"Yeah I know, I kinda wanna.... talk, about something." This was the first time he ever wanted to talk about something and willingly came to her. So naturally, she let him in and cancelled whatever else she had planned. As Damien was sitting in that pink, cushion like bean bag, he sighed. "Look, I don't want you to make a big deal out of it."

"Well, you have to tell me what it is for me to determine--"

"You WON'T make a big deal out of it. Promise me."

Dove blinked before she smiled and placed two well manicured    fingers on the spot above her heart. "I promise."

"Okay... So...I think I've... fallen for someone and it's really fucking annoying and I don't know how to deal with it or what to do and how I'm gonna stop my stupid fucking lame heart from jumping out of my chest all the time." He growled, clenching his hand to a fist, like he wanted to PUNCH this problem away. Like he usually did. But this time, it wouldn't work.

Dove remained silent, listening until he was done explaining before she placed a hand onto her collarbone. "Oh, Damien.." Damien swore he could see tears well up in the corners of her eyes. Right before she went for him like an animal. Hugging him so tightly that he thought he was going to die with his head between her tits. "Finally you fell in love! I am so proud of you!"

He kicked and pushed until he finally managed to escape her grasp, falling back into the bean bag with a loud inhale and a cough. "You said you wouldn't make a big deal out of this!!!"

"Oh honey, this isn't me making a big deal out of it. Trust me,        that would look way different. So – who is it, hm?"

"Like I would tell you! Just tell me how to deal with it."

Dove tapped a finger against her lips. "There is no cure for love, Darling.     You have to embrace it, tell your beloved how you feel."

"No. Not an option. If I do that, he will--"

"So its a HE, now that narrows down the list of suspects.." She mumbled to herself,       obviously pretending like she was still trying to find out.

"Will you fucking concentrate again! I WANT THIS TO STOP!" That last part sounded so pained, Dove became serious for a moment and looked at Damien, who was grasping his shirt once more, like he was going to tear his very heart out before her.

"It fucks up everything we got! It's in the way! Shit, I wanna just burn and smash stuff and not deal with something that makes me so.. vulnerable. This is really fucking unsettling."

Dove sighed. "Listen, it might be unsettling to you. But love doesn't have to weight you down, hun. See it as a.... Ah, right. Like a weapon you wield. A sword, or an axe." Now she got his attention. "Love is a war that can't be fought by yourself. Your heart is telling you to fight, and once you stop rejecting it, you will see that it is the strongest weapon you could ever wield."

Damien was listening, frowning. This sounded like the thing his dad's told him. Maybe... They were right? The wheels in Damien's head were turning, so Dove decided to give him that final push.

"Or is this the kind of battle Damien LaVey will run from?"

Damien stopped overthinking it, frowning, staring at Dove who stood before him, like a drill sergeant. She was just missing the uniform. And eventually, Damien rose to his feet.

         "Fuck that, I don't run from anything."

She smiled. "Now that's my big boy." She placed her hands on his shoulders as the bell rang, and pushed him towards the door. "Now go and tell Mr. Green that you love him!"

Damien was suddenly not so sure anymore, and was moving forward a bit reluctantly. "Hey! From where yo do you know that It's Br--" SLAM! She shut the door with a pleased smile and was totally going to use her magic in order to keep an eye on the lovebirds.

Damien scowled at her door before returning his attention to the Hallway. Students were leaving classes, one after another, until that one Monster walked out, Damien had been waiting for. He took one last breath, made sure his hair was looking as good as always – then walked over to him.

[emmettpedia]

Keep Them Safe: Chapter Seven

Based on @whatwashernameagain‘s fic: Keep Him Safe

Warnings: Angst, blood, beatings, knives, choking, cursing, hint at non-consenting sexual acts.

Chapter One

Tag List: @himrachel @whatwashernameagain

A/N: OMG ANOTHER CHAPTER?! Well, guess what, the newest chapter of KHS has me shook, and I was struck with MAJOR inspiration to write this.

Chapter Seven (AO3 link)

Redmond balances on the edge of the curb, arms outstretched as he tiptoed along. He told Dexter and Oliver he could pick up the little minion from his first day of school today, but that was a couple of hours away, and the man felt too antsy to really stay still or inside. Oliver avoided the topic of the day before, seeming incredibly nervous and shy. The long haired male couldn't blame him. The whole situation was unexpected, and from what he was able to gather (because he couldn't remember much), he had asked to go home with the detective. When he had woken up this morning, he felt better than he had in ages, so perhaps him being so touch-starved wasn't really a shocker.

The things he could remember, though, brought a smile to his lips. Waking up, the first thing he had seen was the small detective cuddled up against his chest. The sight was absolutely breathtaking, from the way the man's fingers had latched onto his shirt, to the way the sun turned his hair into fire, the flames lazily flickering in every direction. Redmond could see the stars in his freckles that dusted across his cheeks and nose, and quietly mapped out full constellations. Gently carding his fingers through the cherry red hair allowed him to see the platinum blonde and dark brown roots starting to show. Even after all these years, Oliver still kept his hair dyed a pristine crimson, taking great care of it to make sure that it stayed soft and manageable. To anyone who didn't know the man, they'd probably think this was his natural hair color.

Oliver also had a nice, slim build, hiding muscles under the lean exterior, reminding the man of a cat, powerful with a sleek frame, able to silently stalk its prey. He had run his fingers lightly down Oliver's arms, breath catching as he felt the familiar raises in skin. The detective's arms were decorated with an array of crisscrossing scars, all different lengths and sizes. Tears stung the backs of his eyes because in the sixteen years that he had known the redhead, there had only ever been a couple here and there, and they had always faded within a few months. Those? Those weren't fading any time soon.

Running his hands through his loose hair, Redmond checked his phone, sighing dejectedly as he saw the time. Still an hour and fourty-three minutes to go. He let his feet carry him to the cafe. Going inside wasn't his plan, however, as he stepped into the alley and grasped at the ladder. Laying on the rooftops helped him think his entire life, and right now, he needed to think.

For example, what was he going to do about Oliver? He certainly didn't hold a grudge now. Once he had realized that his mom had been the reason Oliver had said those harsh words, all of his anger and hurt melted away. And to see how that bitch still had a hold of him to this day made him protective. He remembered the pain in those mismatched eyes. He knew that pain. That was the pain of loving someone who, quite obviously, didn't love you back. Redmond had felt it with his ex. But Oliver? He'd been dealing with that pain for twenty-eight years, unable to cut ties with the mom he tried so hard to impress, only to be met with disappointment and rejection for who he was. The texts Redmond had seen the day before had shown him more than enough.

A buzzing from his pocket let him know it was time to go pick up Danny. It was only a short walk to the school, thankfully, because Redmond's car was still at Dexter's, all the way across town. As he walked, he found his mind drawn back to Oliver. More specifically, how gorgeous he was, and how the barista could get him to keep smiling, because dammit, if Oliver's smile wasn't the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, then he didn't know what was. The tall man's heart melted, just a little, as he realized just what the detective was to him. Even after all of these years, he still loved the redhead, and never realized it.

Spotting the familiar black winderbreaker with yellow stripes, he waves and broke out into a smile. "I'm over here, little minion!" Redmond called, bracing himself as kid turned into a blur that shot straight towards him. Laughing, he sidestepped and scooped up Danny, who was giggling hysterically.

"Red! I didn't know you were picking me up!" The man in question raised his eyebrows, taking in the paint covered seven year old, chuckling.

"Well, surprise, minion, you're stuck with me all day until your Aunt Rose picks you up for that sleepover. And you want to know what I was thinking? That maaaaybe, you and I, Danny, could be lazy and watch Disney. Even order some of that Chinese food that you love, hm?" Seeing the kid squirm with excitement and start to ramble on about his day, he decided he made up his mind on where him and Oliver stood.

The first thing Oliver noticed when he walked in was Roman's eyes. They were tinged red, an obvious sign of tears. And then he tripped. Within earshot of the desk, thankfully. Jake helped the smaller detective up, smiling gratefully and glancing back at Roman and Logan. It took everything Oliver had to not flinch away from the stoic detective. Normally, Detective Sanders never radiated this much anger. It was unnerving. He caught the name "Virgil Raine" as he walked away.

Hastily, he brought up records for the name, and sure enough, there was one currently detained in one of the holding cells. And from the looks of it, this was the wildcat he had heard Roman talking about to Logan. The pieces fit together. Roman's state of mind, Logan's anger. Oliver's deduction? Both were too emotional to deal with this properly. Snatching up the whiteboard and red marker he usually carried around, the tiny detective stalked out of the office, headed straight to the holding cells, lips pursed.

Logan cared a lot for his partner, and was overprotective. Roman was blinded by an infatuation with this gang member. Rather simple. The purple sneakers came to a halt outside a cell, and the blue and silver eyes came into contact with the same eyes from Patton's bakery. An emotionless face met the sneering one, and soon the gang member faltered. Oliver cocked his head, his intense stare causing the criminal to shrink back. He wrote on his whiteboard, showing it to the man in the cell. "Why are you here?"

Apparently, this man wasn't as much of a hardened criminal as he thought because swiped at Oliver through the bars, and immediately went to the back of the cell as the detective easily dodged and continued to stare him down. The red haired man caught the word "traitor" and smiled, waving cheerfully and walking away, knowing full well the look of confusion on the criminal's face.

Oliver could just barely make out sobbing from one of the cells, and peered in. Aha, there you are, little wildcat, Oliver thought, quickly stepping inside as he assessed the condition of this cell's inhabitant. The first thing he noticed was the large, handshaped bruise on the young man's neck. Next, the split lip and bruise that stretched across his cheek. Virgil shrank further against the wall, and the detective could see the terror in his eyes.

So Detective Frey did something that the other didn't expect; he sat right on the floor across from Virgil, legs crossed as the marker flew across the board. "What happened?" it said.

The gang member just eyed him fearfully before curling back up. Oliver's eyes traveled to the wall next to Virgil's head. Specks of blood on the wall. His eyes narrowed, remembering Roman's bandaged hand. Well, this week was just the week for punching walls. He connected the dots quickly. His best guess was that Virgil had planned on selling out the gang, based on the other member's mention of traitors, and said gang member told both Logan and Roman all about how Virgil was using the younger detective. It was all quite obvious. Divide and conquer tactic. A misunderstanding. But Oliver knew that without proof, neither of the other detectives would listen to reason, which, hilariously, was illogical, as Logan would often say. Scribbling on his whiteboard again, he held it out for the other to read, smiling gently.

Virgil stared at the whiteboard in shock and opened his mouth to speak, yet nothing could come out. But the detective saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes and smiled wider, standing up. He fished around in his pocket, bringing forth a cinnamon candy he always kept with him for stress. Unwrapping it, he held it out to the wildcat and, once the other finally took it and popped it into his mouth, smirked warmly, holding a fingering to his lips. Our little secret, it conveyed.

Oliver shivered. It had started to rain a bit ago, and his hiding place wasn't exactly sheltered from the cold, wet drops. Luckily for him, he had managed to sneak into the Scorpions' hideout. Unfortunately, he was now surrounded with no way to escape. They had no idea he was here, but there was no way he'd leave without getting caught. At least, that's how it was.

His phone started to buzz, alerting the convicts. "Who's phone was that?"

"What do you mean? That's not my phone."

"Jimmy I swear to god..."

"It's not me!"

Suddenly, the voices got closer. Fuck.

"Hey, looky here! We got ourselves an intruder! Boss, come look!" Oliver found himself face to face with a drug addicted gang member leering at him. Oliver made and unimpressed face and stood straight, brushing himself off. He had to pretend that this didn't bother him, the fact he was surrounded by more people than he could take on. He thanked the heavens he had time to send the audio file to Logan and hide his phone. He had managed to record enough proof that Virgil was in fact innocent, as well as gather info about the gang itself. The detective wasn't all that sure that the file had gone through, but that wasn't his main concern right now. His main concern was the towering man who was making his way through the criminals. His arms were covered in tattoos of naked women and scorpions, and there was a trashy teardrop tattoo underneath his left eye. Oliver could tell by the way the man carried himself that he was the leader.

The detective fought the urge to take an involuntary step back, opting for a warning snarl. "What are you, a little kitten? Do you really think you're intimidating?" The man stood a good foot and a half above the detective as he mocked him, the laugh carrying a threat. He made a motion and in a blink of an eye, Oliver deflected the blows of two gang members and grounded them. The two groaned on either side of him, and the leader's look darkened.

"Kick his ass, Hector!" a voice yelled from the back, causing a deadly glint to appear in the man's eyes. Uh-oh, this isn't good...

The leader, who was apparently called Hector, grabbed the detective's tie, yanking him close to inspect his face. Rather than reward him with the terror he expected, Oliver spit in his face, a lopsided grin springing to life on his face. His show of defiance only resulted in the man's large hand closing in around his throat.

Oliver was hoisted up off the ground and shoved against the wall behind him. Black dots swarmed his vision and he clawed at the hand that held him captive, attempting to breath. His feet started to kick wildly, fear setting in. One of his feet landed on his captive’s chest, causing the latter to loosen his grip just enough for Oliver to inhale some of that sweet, sweet air.

He gasped as a force spread across his face, dazing him. The pain that set in a few moments later made him realize that Hector had decked him. Taking a command from some unseen signal, the gang set on him like a pack of wolves. The small male let out a small whimper, his mouth running dry as the members pummeled him. Through the pain, he managed to assess the injuries with a (somewhat) clear head. At least two broken ribs and a shit ton of bruises. He felt his hair grabbed and the ground rushed at him. He tried to focus. One concussion.

Vaguely grasping at some form of comprehension, Oliver was dragged upright. His shirt had been ripped slightly during the scuffle, and the members holding him snickered with glee at see what their leader had in store for the intruder.

A flash caught Oliver’s eye. A knife. He settled a defiant gaze on the holder of the weapon, the leader looking back at him with a malicious glint in his eyes. Oliver wouldn’t show him any sort of weakness. He felt the blade along the side of his neck, and in one swift movement, the choker he had been wearing fell to the ground. Blood trickled down, but the detective refused to give in, breathing in and out calmly. “Mm, you’re a tough cookie to crack, aren’t you?” The leader chuckled, pacing in front of the other, like a cat toying with its food.

Oliver just continued to maintain an even, cold gaze, unable to speak, but not really caring. The threatening man in front of him cut open the front of his shirt even more, dragging the knife across his bare chest lightly. “Perfect,” he muttered lovingly.

Pain erupted as the gang leader suddenly started to carve into Oliver’s chest, causing a few whimpers. “What a pretty boy you are. Who knows? Maybe I’ll be able to have some fun after all..."

Finally, the fear Oliver had been keeping at bay crept into his eyes as they widened, the implications obviously as Hector grabbed his face and planted a hard kiss to the detective's lips. He struggled in vain, but as the imposing character grew closer for comfort, he understood that he wasn't getting out of it. He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth.

Roman glanced down at his phone, not really caring. That day's events had left him warn out and heartbroken, the shattered feeling in his chest aching dully at this point. A quick swipe showed him that it was Oliver. Opening the text, the princely detective frowned, eyebrows knitting together. An address?

Another text.

Detective Prince inhaled sharply. "Logan, get your ass up, we need to leave right now!

"What? Why?" Logan walked from the bathroom, shoulders tense at the tone of his partner's voice.

Roman simply showed him the phone, Logan's face paling before he stiffened, swiftly throwing on his jacket.

Neither of them, in the years they had worked with the mute detective, had they ever received a text like that from Oliver. It meant he was in severe trouble.

The young detective stared down at the text, his mind going a million miles an hour. He felt a hand on his, tugging him along. Roman continued to go through all the worse possible scenarios, hoping to god that none of them was true. Logan sped the whole way there, his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel.

Oliver: plshlpme

Lights blinded him, making him even dizzier as he dragged himself a couple more inches. He felt arms grab him gently, mentioning something about the hospital. What hospital? Why did he need to go to the hospital? His head rolled back, illiciting a small whimper from the contact with the gash in his head. Why did he hurt so much? He felt arms around him, and he latched on, only feeling terror.

"Shh, Oliver, you're going to be okay..." A couple of drops fell on his face, and sharps gasps filled the car. He wondered why...

There, on the small detective's chest, was a crudely carved scorpion.

OH WOW AN ANGSTY CHAPTER :D I got close to 3000 words with this one because I couldn’t stop writing and I just didn’t want to leave it like that, yknow?

[skvaderarts]

Apocrypha Chapter Thirty Nine: Trespasser

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Trespasser

Note: Listening to Crimson Cloud while writing this chapter hits differently. It’s just been that kind of day lol! More on that later. I’m very excited and also slightly anxious about this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it! Also, make sure to check out the footnotes for this chapter! There are some pretty neat things in them today!

(-~-)

The atmosphere in the room grew tense, a palpable note of discomfort hanging in the air as oldest of the two descendants of the dark Knight Sparda silently reached over and turned the radio off. There was no need to ask what was going on. Neither of them had even the slightest idea as to how anyone aside from their known associates could know that they were there, especially since basically no one knew the address. The two shared a silent glance between one another and the doorway that led to the front entrance, considering the possibility of just not answering the door at all and pretending that they were not home. After a moment of startling mental synchronization, they nodded to one another, not needing to elaborate on what they were considering.

Both Nero and V carefully approached the door and, warry of a possible attack. There was just something about this situation that made them uneasy, and they were not keen on getting into a fight on the front porch of V’s new dwelling. A quick glimpse through the peephole indicated that there was no one at the door, at least no one that they could see. The younger of the two glanced back at V, the latter gesturing for him to answer the door. He was more than ready to take someone to task over this, even if that involved a battle of some sort. Although admittedly somewhat tired, he wasn’t physically wounded in any form anymore, and the combination of his newfound abilities and his cane being returned to his possession meant that he was far from helpless. Being kidnapped by that dreadful cult had been more than enough motivation for him to avoid being put in that kind of situation again.

After mentally cursing himself for only having his gun on him at that moment, Nero unlocked the door and pushed it open, fully expecting an ambush of some sort. What he received instead was an empty space and no signs of life. Had they both simply been hallucinating? Had some kid just knocked on the door and ran away in a silly attempt to be irritating? V stepped forward and examined the space before them, seemingly more perplexed than Nero was. He’d been so sure that he’d heard something…

Satisfied for the moment that there was no one out there, Nero stepped back, intending to close the door, only to become instantly startled and draw his revolver, signaling for a very befuddled V to join him. The longer haired man did so, glancing over his shoulder towards the now half-closed door to try and see what the commotion was all about. Much to V’s surprise, he found the source of his younger sibling’s distress. 

Leaned against the side of the house next to the front door was a hooded individual. They wore a nearly floor-length black silk like cloak coat with ribbed dark grey leather sleeves that seemed to zip from the turtle neck styled collar that covered the bottom of their mouth, to the waistline before a button-up flap secured the top of the garment. Strangely enough, the long garment was adorned with dark purple and white vertical stripes on the inside, a stark contrast to the outside of the garment. Aside from that, they were dressed somewhat casually, if one could consider grey leather ribbed jeans that matched their coat sleeves and semi-high top boots as “casual”.

Despite all of this being visible, the person in question was facing down towards the ground, their back touching the wall as their left leg bent outwards, braced against the dark brick. It was impossible to see their face in the dim light, but they didn’t need to be able to pick out any details to be able to tell that they were both being watched intently out of the corner of their uninvited visitor’s eyes. The unknown individual who, from what they could tell was a male, didn’t seem fazed in the slightest by the sight of the double-barrelled, high-caliber gun that was pointed in his face. Instead, they sighed under their breath and sighed, pushing themselves off of the wall and fixing the collar of their coat, indicating that they were actually wearing a turtle neck underneath the coat and that the purple high collared neck of their coat was actually the part that the zipper went up into.

Both Nero and V glanced at one another and then returned their attention to the stranger standing before them, increasingly curious as to what they were doing there. Something told them that this person was here for something more than directions, especially since they had gone to the trouble of standing out of the line of sight of the peephole as though they expected them to look through it. V, noting that Nero still had his gun drawn and was entirely ready to put a bullet in this unknown man motioned for his brother to lower the weapon slightly. He wanted to know what this was about before he lost the opportunity to find out. Was this man part of the cult that they had been doing battle against? And if so, how had he found them here? He didn’t seem like he was one of them based on his demeanor and the way that he was dressed, but it was far from impossible.

“... Do you have any idea what time it is? Most people are asleep at five in the morning,” V stated plainly, his tone careful but concise. Neither of them had no way of knowing what this individual was capable of, and V didn’t intend to be killed or have his new dwelling be leveled by this mysterious stranger. There was simply something about them that immediately put him on edge, and that wasn’t something that he was used to. The summoner got the impression that Nero felt something similar to the gut feeling that he did about this unknown individual, but he couldn’t exactly communicate with his younger sibling telepathically. That being said, the fact that Nero had a gun pointed at him seemed to allude to the fact that his assumptions about at least one of them were correct.

The man turned his hands outward and slowly lowered them to the same level as his chest, spreading them out to indicate that he was unarmed and meant them no harm. Somehow both of the young descendants of Sparda got the impression that this wasn’t because he feared for his safety. No, it was clearly a display of cooperation and nothing more. Neither of them was entirely sure how they knew, but they silently agreed that this being, whoever they were, was entirely capable of handling themselves. Call it a devil hunters intuition.

“Relax… I didn’t get up this early to initiate a duel to the death in full view of the public. You can lower your weapon. If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it already.”

Nero gave the man a sideways look before hesitantly lowering the weapon. It wasn’t so much because he’d been asked to as it was the fact that he actually wanted to see what they were getting at.” Yea, that’s reassuring. So what’s your damage?”

Much to the surprise of both of them, the shrouded figure chucked slightly, his wicked tone carrying more weight than it was probably meant to. His tone wasn’t entirely dissimilar to V’s although with a more pronounced accent; one that neither of them could really put their finger on. It was just present enough to notice, but not so much so that it dominated his speech patterns and made it easy to pinpoint its place of origin. Still though, it seemed strangely familiar to them.

“Please… let’s not open that can of worms. We’ve only just met. I’m here to collect you. It seems that you have an urgent meeting to attend.” He said simply, a humorous tint to his voice. It was clear that he knew something they didn’t and he obviously relished in it. Not so much in a smug way. It was more sarcastic than anything else. Simply finding something entertaining that they were not privy to seemed to be something that brought him immeasurable entertainment value. In truth, it was slightly unsettling, especially to V for reasons he couldn’t quite place. In some ways, he got the impression that this had been what the people he now considered close friends had probably thought he was like when they’d first met, and he now understood why they had seemingly had such a difficult time trusting him at first. They hadn’t needed to say it. Their wary looks and unsure mannerisms had spoken loud and clear. Still, he hoped that they had adjusted to his quirks since then and become more accustomed to dealing with him, because it it was even half as awkward as this was to deal with him on a daily basis, he genuinely pitied them.

The young short-haired devil hunter was more than slightly suspicious, clearly not trusting their new acquaintance. And to be fair, who could blame him for that?” With who? Who the hell are you?”

With a slightly discontent sigh, the man shook his head slowly and reached up to grasp his hood with his hands, pulling it down and off of his head, allowing it to rest on his shoulders. It gave way to a mess of wavy red hair, the length of which was tricky to see in the dim light but it seemed to travel downwards a ways, resting at his chest. Strangely, it was not the regular shade of natural red that Nero was used to seeing someone like Kyrie possess, but a more vibrant shade of blood red that made another feature of his stand out like a sore thumb: his piercing, almost unnaturally light grey eyes. They were almost white with barely any notable pigment present in them. They were not gray with a touch of blue or green or even brown. No, they were pure gray, and almost strangely familiar for reasons that neither of them could pinpoint.

For a moment, Nero considered asking their “guest” if he was wearing contacts or had dyed his hair, but something just told him that that wasn’t the case. After all, both he and V possessed an unusual hair color. V’s was possibly the single whitest thing he’d ever seen aside from something that had fallen in bleach or acetone by accident. Perhaps it was the extremely fair complexion that the man possessed or something else. He couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that he found this entire situation profoundly strange and wanted to find out what was going on as soon as possible.

He remained calm despite the obvious hostility in Nero’s tone. After all, there was no reason that he should expect him to trust a total stranger that had just turned up at his door at the crack of dawn demanding to take him elsewhere. Despite the inconvenience it posed him, he couldn’t blame them for being slightly hostile towards him. If anything, he was glad that they were even humoring him at all. In his experience, that was a rare thing.” Two of your relatives. I’m not entirely sure how you’re related. And Magnolia. I couldn’t tell you why, but they insisted that we all speak. Somehow I get the impression that this is my doing, but I honestly can’t be bothered to care. I should be asleep right now.”

There was a part of V that actually agreed with the stranger. They should all be asleep, and the prospect of some sort of emergency meeting in the wee hours of the morning was enough to make him long for the sweet embrace of unconsciousness on the floor of his new home. If he knew Magnolia, then V was willing to trust him somewhat. But he had to confirm that he wasn’t lying first.” You’re acquainted with Magnolia? How so?” He shrugged.” I could ask you the same question. We’ve known one another for countless years. I can explain once we arrive, but they asked me to make haste. Something about needing to make preparations for a trip.”

At that, Nero scoffed slightly. In truth, that made sense to him. While that statement could absolutely be a very skilled bluff, they had decided that they would visit the Guardians and return the Arcana to them after V recovered. Considering what had happened that night, he was willing to imagine that they were probably talking about that trip. But just to be on the safe side, he wasn’t going to elaborate on that fact. It was best to not share sensitive information with a total stranger, especially one that could be fishing for information.” What do you mean, “countless years”? You can’t be any older than we are.”

For reasons that were beyond them, he laughed slightly at that statement. V and Nero shared a cautious look with one another, not entirely sure that he was entirely sane.” Oh, you have no idea. Now then, shall we go? One of your relatives threatened to behead me when we first met, and I suspect he wasn’t joking.” He gestured towards the van, the vehicle still parked on the street where they’d left it earlier that day. While V did in fact own a small garage now, hauling boxes all the way from the back of the house hadn’t been very conducive to the efficiency of their energy levels.” It may be quicker if we drive. By the way, I didn’t catch your names. Forgive me.”

V crossed his arms slightly, not entirely sure they should be telling him anything. Names were powerful, after all. That was a large part of the reason he didn’t tend to tell others what his full name was. But, that being said, the young summoner was inclined to believe that this man had indeed come there on behalf of Magnolia and their father and uncle. There was only one person he knew of who would be unhinged enough to threaten to behead someone the first time they met, and they happened to be related to him. 

With a tentative sigh, V gestured towards the man, reaching back to close the front door of the house the rest of the way. He grabbed his cane while he was at it. The long piece of metal had been resting against the wall inside of the entryway. V had to remember to purchase an umbrella stand or something akin to it to store it in when it wasn’t in use. He felt more or less fine navigating his own domain without it, but that wasn’t strictly the case when he was forced to leave the house. He’d simply tolerated it up until now in the hopes of locating a suitable replacement in the near future. Thankfully that was no longer necessary. Hopefully, he wouldn’t need to utilize its alternate purpose.

“Likewise... You can call me V,” The summoner said, carefully concealing his uncertainty. He had to remind himself from time to time that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He had done so for years, even before he’d discovered the secrets of his lineage.” And that would make you…?”

The young man in the striped coat nodded, placing his left hand behind his back and bowed slightly lower than the average person would, mimicking a more out of date mannerism that his youthful appearance depicted. He rolled his right hand, offering it to V to shake who stared at him for a moment, deeply out of his element. The redhead never broke eye contact, something that the young Descent of the Dark Knight Sparda admittedly found slightly intimidating. He wasn’t fond of eye contact, but V got the impression that he had done this song and dance on more than one occasion. He himself didn’t possess the center of balance required to do so. Still, he was admittedly slightly charmed by the over the top gesture, his fondness of more antiquated things thoroughly impressed with the greeting. V hesitantly reciprocated the gesture, unaccustomed to physical indications of the sort. It was rare that he ever had to do so.

“Ah yes, where are my manners? My name is Sirrus. The last name is… inconsequential, much as I imagine you’d like to consider your first name.” He glanced over at Nero, a placid but purposeful look indicative of the fact that he was here for a reason crossing his visage. Although polite, he was thoroughly sarcastic, a fact that belied his more serious resting facial expression. If anything he seemed somewhat melancholy.” And you, my young friend, would be…?”

Nero gave him an unamused look. Oh great, not two overly proper people!” Nero. I’m Nero. I don’t do handshakes.”

Sirrus stared at him for a moment before cracking a mischievous smile, closing his eyes and allowing his long eyelashes to nearly brush the bottom portion of his face. He chuckled deep in his chest, his lips never parting. He then spoke, his sultry voice caring that same darkness that had been present in all of his conversations.” Yes, I can see that. No matter. Shall we proceed, then? The sun will be up soon, and I suspect that may cause problems. Trafic and the like.”

The two brothers glanced between one another, somewhat resigned to their fates at this point. It was entirely possible that this was simply a very elaborate ruse designed to trap them or something equally nefarious, but at this point, neither of them really cared. They were more interested in seeing what was truly going on, and he happened to be telling the truth, then it was simply a happy bonus at this point. Otherwise, there would be hell to pay, and the fiery redhead would live to regret the day he tried to lure them into a trap.

(-~-)

Sorry that the chapter is slightly late! It’s been a chaotic day. Thanksgiving dinner ran late, and then I left my job over health and safety concerns. I’ll be fine. I’m sure of it. But at the end of the day, my health is more important than minimum wage, even if the job Itself was pretty fun most days. See you all on Wednesday! And please check out my poll for book three! I think you might find it interesting! I also had an illustration done of Sirrus. Been planning this chapter for like two months lol! Links to both will be below! I hope you had a safe and happy holiday. Take care!

Link to picture: https://www.deviantart.com/redrequiem0/art/08-2020-851324035

Link to Questionnaire: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/16rSk71Zna2uhzGG1CQAxb6I05v6dTv8O8usPxcSUniU/edit?usp=sharing

[riyuyami]

What about Atem meeting Yami, "Yami" or Toon!Yugi? You choose.

I really want him to meet “Yami”.

Let’s pretend the studio is in the same town that Yugi lives in, and isn’t in a different one like I think of in canon for this au.

--

Atem knew that his father was in trouble, it’s been two days since he went to meet with is former boss at the old studio, and people were getting worried when he didn’t come home.

So, against his mother’s knowing, Atem rode his bike to the studio, finding his father’s car parked outside. He set his bike down and went up the creaking, old steps to the door, pushing it open. The first thing he noticed was the very, VERY strong scent of ink.

Then he noticed said ink.

It was everywhere! Leaking from the walls in small waterfalls, covering the floor, almost all of it draining down a huge hole near the door. Oh... he hoped his dad hadn’t fallen into that hole!

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Atem moved past the hole as carefully as he could, doing his best to avoid the ink on the walls. He pulled the flashlight he had brought in the small bag he had, turning it on. The studio was covered in ink, and a few of the light fixtures flickered, their bulbs ancient and dying.

He quietly walked around, his shoes and the dripping ink the only sounds in the old building.

“Dad?” He called out, perking up when he heard something down a hall. He flashed his light down it, seeing a room at the end, with the lights dimmed down. There was a churning from inside of it, he wondered if his father was in there.

The young teen carefully approached the room, reaching for the small pocket knife he had in the bag. If he wasn’t so nervous, he’d be happily flipping out about actually being in Seto Kaiba Studios! This is where Yami the Shadow Boy was made, and there were posters and stuff of him everywhere!

He saw a sign above the doorway at the end of the hall, INK MACHINE.

There were a few, poorly placed boards on the doorway, as if to keep something in or out. He noticed a big, black hand print on one of the planks. Beyond them was a large, strange looking machine. It was on, moving, churning, and spitting out bits of ink.

Atem raised an eyebrow. “Dad?” He asked, only to scream when something slammed down right in front of the boards on the other side.

He stared in horror at the creature that stood behind the wood, taller than him, coated in black ink, with a giant, white grin on its face. It was breathing heavily, the grin on its face growing just a bit more as it looked at the boy.

Green eyes were wide as they stared, before a shaky smile came to Atem’s face. “Oh... oh my god...! It’s you!”

The smile on the creature’s face didn’t change, but it tilted its head in question.

“You’re...! You’re Yami! The Dancing Demon!” Atem exclaimed, the smile on his face turned into a full on grin. “I can’t believe it, you’re real! Like, that is you, yeah? Or is this just a really cool Halloween costume!?” He reached out, much to the other’s shock, and touched the monster.

He felt cold ink on the creature’s arm, staring at it in wonder. “Wow... are you want Mr. Kaiba wanted to show my dad? Did he make you? This is so much cooler than I thought it would be! I mean, I’ve always wanted to see a real life Yami before, but I thought you’d be... I dunno, smaller? Cuter? Like in the cartoons, but this is still just as great!”

“Yami” was, without a doubt, confused.

Never in his existence has anyone been, well... excited to see him. Or to even touch him. Who the hell was this kid? Did he belong to Yugi? The hair was a dead give away, though obviously styled much like Yami’s own it seems.

The creature made a noise of confusion, hearing the boy continue to chatter away before he stopped, frowning. “Hey, do you know what happened to my dad? He’s about a few inches taller than me, we have similar hair, big purple eyes, kind of a weenie? Ya know? He’s not hard to miss.”

“Yami” suddenly felt the urge to take this kid down into the studio to find Yugi, but... no, he wasn’t going to risk this poor child get hurt by the horrors down there. Even as a demonic creature, it was his nature to not harm a child...

He let out a wet sigh and, for the first time in a while, attempted to speak.

“Go hOme, KId. He WiLL bE hoME laTEr.”

Atem stared with his mouth agape, before he grinned again. “Ah! I get it, he’s busy, sounds about right, haha, Mr. Kaiba must be occupying his time. Well, I guess I’ll head home, Mom’s gonna freak when she finds out I came here instead of going to band practice.”

He patted the other’s gloved hand. “Hope to see you again, Yami! Make sure my dad comes home, okay? If anything is gonna be the end of him, it’s gonna be Mom, not this old place. See ya later!” He spun around and started to run down the hall, careful to not slip on the inky puddles.

“Yami” stood behind the boards, hearing the running feet get distant before hearing a door close. He growled to himself before sighing.

Damnit, he just... can’t say no to a child...

--

Atem is a huge dork, and such a big fan. He’s really proud of his dad and his work, he wants to get into the animation business as well. 

And seeing as he’s a cartoon character, or at least based on one, “Yami” can’t find it in him to hurt a child. And it annoys him. 

[ellanainthetardis]

prompt: the guys take haymitch to a strip club, but he doesnt like it and just wants to go home and be with effie, so he does ( you can make it smut if you want)

I did want xD Get ready for the crack crappy smut ‘cause I still can’t write that but watch me try [X]

Striptease

Effie glanced up at the clock when she heardthe chime of the elevator and made a face before quickly crushing the bud ofher cigarette in the ashtray. It was early still, much earlier than Haymitchusually came back. She barely had time to feel around her purse for the smallbottle of perfume and to spray some in the air to mask the odor of tobacco –she didn’t fancy a lecture on smoking that night. The ashtray was deftly hiddenunder a magazine.

When her victor stumbled in the room, itappeared as though she was filing her nails.

“Busy night, I see.” he mocked, going straightfor the liquor cart.

“Haven’t you had enough?” she rebuked,wrinkling her nose. “Where were you? You smell… even worse than usual.”

And it was putting it mildly. He smelt like sweatand smoke and liquor.

“Strip club.” he mumbled, pouring himself awhiskey. “Chaff and Jo’s great idea.”

She wasn’t quick enough to hide her annoyanceand he lifted his eyebrows at the irritated look she shot him. She filed hernail harder – and she would have to make an appointment at the beauty parlorthe next day because she was ruiningher manicure – focusing on the task rather than on him.

“I see.” she huffed. “I won’t ask if you hadfun then, will I? I do hope you werediscreet at least. It won’t do for Twelve’s good name to be dragged in the mudbecause its victor visits houses of ill-repute.”

He chuckled, perching himself on the armrest ofthe couch instead of properly sitting next to her. “Twelve’s got no good nameand I said strip club not brothel… Might have been a special orderon the menu though. Can’t say. I left when the dancers became too friendly.” Hecoiled his free hand around the back of her neck, squeezing once. “Why the longface, sweetheart… You’re jealous?”

“Hardly.” she huffed, shrugging his hand off.“Why did you leave then?”

“Don’t like having women on my lap.” hesnorted. “Even if they’re naked and ready for the taking.”

The image he was describing made her blood boilfor exactly no good reason at all. She snatched the glass of whiskey from hishand and stood up, storming to the window and taking a sip of the liquor. Itdid nothing to cool her temper. She hatedwhiskey – so obviously it had to behis poison of choice.

“Hit a nerve, did I?” he smirked and herirritation grew when she realized he was amusedby her reaction. “Don’t like the idea of me looking at pretty young nakedthings? Should have seen them, sweetheart… Perky breasts, tight nipples… Firmasses… And the legs…”

“Will you stop?” she snapped. “I have nointerest in listening to this. You are a pig.”

And the idea of him doing exactly that, of him watching women wrigglingand writhing in front of him, begging for his attention…

“Maybe.” he granted, dropping in the seat shehad  just vacated. “You’re going to giveme my booze back?”

“No.” she declared, taking a pointed sip fromhis glass. “You do not deserve it.”

Damn him, his smirk and his twinklingeyes.

He knewshe was annoyed and he also knew whyalthough the reason would remain unvoiced and unaddressed as usual. There werethings too dangerous to be acknowledged. As long as they could pretend…

“You’ve got the best ass this side of thecountry.” he said, almost placating. “Didn’t see a better one.”

“This side of the country?” she repeated with ahuff. “Haymitch, I have been elected sexiest woman of the year, three years ina row. I do think I look a littlebetter than mere strippers.”

He chuckled. “What year was that?”

She narrowed her eyes at him and he lifted hishands in a defensive gesture. He was in a good mood, she observed, and shewondered what exactly had happened at that club.

“Are you sure you did not enjoy it?” she asked,trying to keep the ice out of her voice because she had no business policinghim. He was free to enjoy whatever he wanted to enjoy and to do whatever hewanted to do.

“Enjoyed the view for a while.” he admittedwith a shrug. “Then it got boring. It’s like foreplay with no actual… You know.”

A little assuaged by that, she took another sipof whiskey. “You are not fond of foreplay.”

“Depends with whom.” he smirked. “Can’t say Iwouldn’t like you stripping for me…”

“I do not think you deserved that either.” she commented.

He tilted his head to the side and watched her,the smirk deepening a little. “Kept my hands to myself.”

“Common decency is hardly a feat worth atreat.” she declared, finishing the liquor and abandoning the glass on a tablenext to a vase for the Avoxes to clean up.

“Kept imaging it was you in front of me…” hecontinued, his voice dropping to a rough tone that always made her a little aroused – not that she wouldadmit that much. “Say, you can do the stuff on the pole?”

“Since there is no pole in the penthouse, youare unlikely to find out.” she hummed – and immediately put it on her to-dolist to take some discreet classes because one could not have too many skills.

“I’ve been dying to fuck you since that girltried to rub her ass on me.” he told her.

It was crass. And awful. And she shouldn’t havebeen as arousing as she found it to be.

“Let me make sure I understand…” she growled.“I should let you take me to bed because you are turned on by another womantrying to seduce you?”

He slumped a little on the couch, his gaze byfar too knowing. “Lose the wig.”

His voice wasn’t as much teasing as commandingnow and her automatic response was to lick her lips. “I am not playing thisgame, Haymitch.”

They stared at each other steadily for a whileand the certainty she read in his eyes angered her. He was convinced she wouldcave.

“Lose the wig.” he repeated.

“Not until you learn proper manners.” sheretorted. “Say please and I mightconsider it.”

“You don’t want proper manners.” he mocked.“You want to be fucked so hard you can’t think anymore.”

“You are so vulgar.” she scoffed with openloathing.

“And it makes you so wet.” he taunted.

“Do not talk to me like I am a stripper or aprostitute.” she hissed. “I am a lady and I will not…”

“You’re no lady, sweetheart.” he cut her off.“Cause ladies don’t get off being fucked from behind the way you do…” The smirkwas back, cocky and smug. “Maybe I’ll take you that way tonight… Bent over thecouch… You’d like that?”

She probably would. And wasn’t that anirritating thought?

“You won’t take me at all.” she scowled. “Youhave annoyed me. I am not your sex toy.”

She folded her arms over her chest and glaredat him.

“Lose the wig.” he demanded again.

“Say please.”she challenged right back.

Amusement flickered on his face. “You’realready soaked, yeah?”

“Just like you are already hard, I suppose.”she dismissed, because it was of little consequence how aroused they both were,the only thing that mattered was who would win this particular verbal spar. Shedidn’t mind giving up eventually because he did like to be in charge and sheloved how dominant he could be but she didn’t like the assumption that shewould simply hand power over like it was a given. She liked the struggle forcontrol. She liked the fight.

He studied her for a moment and then shrugged.“Please, lose the wig, sweetheart.”

“Muchbetter.” she beamed, quickly pulling pins out and letting them ping on thefloor.

Soon, the wig joined the pins and she tousledher natural curls, crushing down her insecurities. Any other man in the Capitoland she would have been mortified by her plain blond hair but Haymitch… Hisgaze darkened and he licked his lips because her hair, for some reason, was animmediate turn on to him.

“The dress now.” he commanded.

For a second, she almost made him ask politelyfor it once more but then she forgot the thought. It wouldn’t be as fun. Shecould wriggle the power back later.

She unzipped the dress and let the purple silkflop to the floor, slowly stepping out of the pool of fabric. She stood there,proud and victorious, offering herself to his hungry stare. She was wearing acorset and matching navy blue panties embroidered with golden arabesques. Sheknew she looked amazing and it made her feel powerful. The way he looked at hermade her feel powerful.

It wasn’t the healthiest, what they were doing. And often she thought they shouldstop while they were ahead. But sex was a drug of its own, just like his liquoror her cigarettes. It made them crazy and weak for each other. She simply couldn’t resist.

She brushed the tip of her fingers along theswell of her breast, looking straight at him. “Should I take the corset off ordo you want to do it yourself?”

She made it sound innocent and he growled, hisright hand falling between his legs. It was cheating, she wanted to argue,because she wanted to do that herselfbut she couldn’t deny she enjoyed the thought of him touching himself becauseshe was just… too much.

“Do it.” he said.

The corset was tied on the front and she made ashow of undoing the knot and then on pulling on the laces, going very slowly. He squeezed himself withevery new flash of creamy white skin and when the corset dropped at her feet,he was obviously flushed. He chucked his waistcoat away and unbuttoned hisshirt.

“Don’t.” she warned when he moved to open hispants. “That’s mine.”

He snorted and then shrugged. “Then come andget it.”

“But I have clothes on still.” she hummed.“This is a complete striptease.”

He shot her a look that let her know he knew what she was doing and he didn’tenjoy having the power stolen back like that.

“Panties off.” he demanded anyway.

She strode closer, swinging her hips, thegolden bangles on her wrist clinging together with every step. He opened hislegs for her without her having to ask and she stepped in between them, herintent clear. His hands briefly rested at the back of her thighs and thenroamed up to knead her ass.

“Take them off.” she requested. “With yourteeth.”

“Bossy.” he commented.

“Do you want me bent over the couch or not?”she challenged, lifting an eyebrow.

She hadn’t been expecting the small slap on herass and so she startled and yelped. Haymitch simply smirked. “I’m in charge,sweetheart.”

“Aren’t you always?” she replied innocently.“Now, pull my panties down. With your teeth.”

He wasn’t delicate when his mouth closed on thewaistband of her panties and she almost regretted that particular idea becauseshe was rather fond of that underwear set. Of course, she stopped secondguessing when his nose nuzzled her mound on his way down. With the pantiesstuck around her thighs, preventing her from fleeing, he forced her legs apartand, before she could say anything, his tongue was poking at her core.

“Haymitch.” she breathed out, all thought oftheir game deserting her mind. There was a more pressing concern: pleasure.

“Like I said…” he chuckled between her thighs.“I’m in charge.”

His tongue was too talented for his own good.  

When he stopped torturing her, her legs wereshaking, she was gripping his shoulders so tight her nails had probably leftcrescent shaped marks on his skin and she was far too gone to think. He had taken her to the brink andhe had left her hanging.

She barely registered when he slid herunderwear off or pulled her down so she would straddle his lap.

“My heels…” she reminded him.

“Leave them on.” he mumbled.

“I thought you did not like women sitting onyou.” was the only gibe she could muster and it was muttered under her breath becauseshe was too busy rubbing herself on him, trying to create friction, to find release.

It didn’t take a long time for him to be ready.When he pushed her off his lap, she got into position without being told, herstomach wedged on the armrest, her legs spread as wide as she could. She heardthe zip of his pants and the ruffling of fabric, she felt him move in akneeling position behind her and she closed her eyes in anticipation.

He didn’t touch her at once and it was evenbetter.

He teased her.

Breathing down her back…

Kissing and nipping at her spine…

Kneading her ass…

When he finally thrust into her, it took her bysurprise and she gasped in pleasure.

Of course, it also prompted him to bend overher, face pressed against her lower back to muffle his chuckles. She didn’tcare. At that point, the only thing she cared about was triggering her climax.She sneaked a hand between her legs but Haymitch grabbed it and trapped it atthe small of her back. He grabbed her other wrist and held it secure too.

“Don’t cheat, sweetheart.” he teased. “You wantsomething, you beg for it.”

“No.” she protested with the last shred ofsanity she had.

He gave one powerful thrust and she whimpered.Another and she was wriggling, trying to rub herself against the leatherarmrest of the couch. She got another small slap on her ass for her troubles.

“None of that.” he growled. “What do you want,Effie?”

The use of her name was a rare one. He usuallypreferred pet names. And in that context…

“Fuckme.” she breathed out. “Please, fuckme.”

“Why, Princess…” he mocked. “You only had toask.”

The thrusts were deep and brutal and she lovedevery moment of it. The whimpers turned to screams without her truly realizingit, she had no control over her body or what was going out of her mouth – encouragements, pleas and threats alike.

When she came, she came hard, slumping over the armrest without a care, the upper part ofher body dangling down. She didn’t even notice when he found his release, onlyrealizing he was done when he pulled her back properly on the couch. There wasa sticky mess between her legs but she didn’t even care, she was bone deepexhausted for all the right reasons and so she laid on the couch on her back,panting a little, naked except for her high heels. Haymitch was sitting next toher hip, still half undressed, pants around his knees, watching her, pantingtoo.

“He’s a fool.” he muttered suddenly.

“Who?” she asked, rolling on her side so thathe would have enough room to lie down if he so wished. They didn’t cuddle but, sometimes, he would allowthem to ride the afterglow together. She loved it more than she should have.

He didlie down but not before kicking his pants and his shirt off properly. It wasbetter that way. She got to snuggle close to his naked body.

“Chaff.” he sighed. “Thought those girls weresexy… Clearly, he hasn’t met you.”

“If you are saying I ruined you for otherwomen, don’t expect me to apologize.” she teased. “I am simply that exceptional.”

He snorted but turned his head so his nosewould be buried in her hair. His hand ran up and down her side for a moment andthen wandered down to her bottom, rubbing the spot he had slapped twice.

“You did not hurt me.” she hummed. “Do notfret.”

“I ain’t.” he scorned.

“I would have your head on a plate if you had,you know that.” she insisted. “I am not helpless. Everything I do with you, Ifully consent to.”

“I know.” he granted. “Not sure it’s quiteclever of you, but I know.”

She pressed her face against his shoulder anddid her best to just enjoy the instant. Peaceful moments were too fleetingduring the Games.

Next year, she thought… She would find a way tosneak a pole in the penthouse.