#an actual ghost and a woman who considers herself one walk into a bar

[unbridledbrainrots]

Sheets and suspicions

Rating: Restricted Length: ~700 words Genre: Drama? they’re dramatic, and then... canon-divergence!  Pairing: Sebastian Moran (from Moriarty The Patriot)  x  OC (named Greta) Notes: It’s based on chapter 3 in the manga... or more like an extension of it? definitely butchering historical accuracies so deal with it, proofread as always but maybe some things left unnoticed, and oh... it’s actually part of my own mini project!

The last smoke from that rifle had finally fused with the fog. Now that the show was over, Moran stepped back to the room. And just about to return the rifle to the wooden box, a thunder of applause broke the silence. But Moran still leisurely stowed his firearm; he knew the source of that sudden noise. 

“Fantastic performance, sir.”

“That’s flattering,” Moran stood up as he finished packing his belongings, then he quickly dressed himself. Never did he, for once, take a glance at the woman he slept with soon after they came together; he was selfishly busy executing the order. 

“Oh, c’mon, I’m being genuine!” that woman rose from the bed, wrapping her naked body in sheets. “You almost forget this one, commander,” she then lifted a half-burnt paper, to which it surprised him. No, not the paper; but the way she addressed him that he took the paper and squashed it in a flash.

The woman sniggered, “so my assumption is correct.” Then, she stationed herself at the doorway, watching him groomed his tousled hair. “You’re indeed not a police. Well—I mean they’re useless here!” She simpered before giving her final remark, “but judging by your skills and attitude, there’s no way you’re not a soldier. Or at least, you were.”

“You’re so chatty, Greta.” Moran was definitely provoked by her invasive interrogation since he merely introduced himself with his last name at the tavern. In fact, she was supposed to be asleep during the whole mission; it was all written in the paper he burnt. Yet she only closed her eyes while listening to the orchestra. 

“Relax, I consider you as my friend now.” She clearly didn’t want to end the conversation unless he answered her inquiry. Moran glared at her, but she gave him a sentimental look as her response. “‘Cause—ah, thank you. Thank you for avenging her death when none of us could,” she continued with a softer tone. 

But Moran ignored her implicit inducement. He had a gut feeling that she was more than just a bar girl. “Your money is on the table,” he tried to end the talk as he walked away from the doorway while carrying his stuff. Still, that woman insisted on letting him go. Her fingers pinched his overcoat; and somehow she felt familiar with the fabric. Then, she sneered in triumph, yet she needed an extra question to push his button. 

“Who the hell are you working for, Mr. Moran?”

Moran snickered and turned around, “that’s none of your business, my dear.” 

“It’s a mere curiosity. I won’t tell anyone about it.” 

Heh, what a siren. Of course, Moran wouldn’t fall for her trap; and to distract her, he landed a kiss on her forehead before he descended the stairs. She was deliberately speechless as she watched his back.

“Ah,” Moran stopped halfway then looked at her, “thank you. You were great, but I didn’t put ‘inquisition’ as a special request for the service.”

——————————

“Your package from the office.”

“Ah, merci!” Her lips held the cigarette as she unsealed that large envelope; then she perched herself on the nearest chair and thoroughly examined the file from the brown paper.

“You’re truly lucky that the director approves this.”

“Sometimes, I have to abuse my status, dearest. Care to take a look?”

“No, no need to. I know it’s that guy.”

She tossed the file to the table soon after she saw the phrase “declared dead.” Two fingers clawed the cigarette and moved it next to the documents. She exhaled an abundance of smoke afterwards, “apparently, that particular client is a ghost—or perhaps I better rephrase it as a cat with eight lives.”

“Well, that’s technically advantageous for him. But you have to be careful, Greta.”

She scoffed, “as long as we don’t interfere, we’re good. Moreover, all these papers haven’t answered one lingering question in my head though, at least, I’ve already got a glimpse of him.” Again, she inhaled the tobacco, letting her body absorb every strand of death. Then, her middle finger tapped a portrait of him from his military days, “well—I think in a few days he will come again to shut me up.”

[stormlit]

call. @earthbuild​

        this isn’t fun, anymore. she keeps picking up an item --- pippa does love to rifle through people’s things, just to try to figure out more about their lives --- or a book, and turning to call over shoulder, before remembering there’s nobody there to call to. nobody who’d laugh at her bad pronunciation, who’d be able to tell her something about the carver of a statue. there’s nobody. she looks at this shelf of books, and she should care --- pippa called herself a librarian long before she was anything else --- but her heart isn’t in it.

        her heart isn’t in anything. her heart is at sea. 

        she sighs and slumps to the floor, skirts pooling around her, and kicks off her shoes; her feet hurt. everything hurts.  ❝ are these yours? ❞ she doesn’t seem fazed that she’s not alone. she doesn’t seem to care, either. what’s the worst that can happen to pippa now?  ❝ sorry. ❞ she doesn’t sound all that apologetic, either.

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 16

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 16 - This Venerable One is Stunned

This really couldn't be blamed on the beast-like Mo Ran. Anyone in such a claustrophobic space, trapped with someone he'd slept with countless times - regardless of whether the sex meant anything, whether it was out of revenge or out of love - smelling the familiar smell on the other person, he could never help the lurching feeling in his heart.

Besides, Mo Ran himself was a bastard.

Shi Mei was his white moonlight. He absolutely couldn't bear to touch it, and he doesn't want to destroy it.

He patronized Chu Wanning and only Chu Wanning. All of his darkness, bestial-lust, and bone-crushing rage could be vented with no fear of repercussion.

He crushed him, tore him up underneath him, forcing him to take part in all the tricks he would never try with Shi Mei.

In his previous life, every time he saw Chu Waning tilting his neck and moving his throat, he felt he was about to degenerate into a vicious beast that only knew how to drink blood. He wanted to bite the man's throat open, grind his teeth, suck out his blood, chew through his flesh and bones.

He didn't care about Chu Wanning. He could defile him as much as he wanted.

At the end of it all, his body had developed a habit. Every time he smelled the scent of Chu Wanning's body, his stomach would feel like it's on fire, his heart would itch, and he wanted to tie him down to a bed and fuck him senseless.

There was a moment of silence in the coffin and Mo Ran's racing heart could be heard.

He knows that Chu Wanning's face was very close. He could feel the other's breathing. If he bit it right now, Chu Wanning wouldn't be able to break free, but. . .

Better to forget it.

Mo Ran leaned back and distanced himself from Chu Wanning. It wasn't really easy considering there wasn't really much room in the coffin.

"I'm sorry, Shizun." Mo Ran snorted and pretended to be meek. "I didn't expect the coffin to - shake!"

As soon as he spoke, the coffin slanted again. Mo Ran rolled into Chu Wanning's arms again with a grunt.

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

Mo Ran retreated again, the coffin shook again, and the cycle continued several more times.

"Un-fucking-believable." Mo Ran leaned back again.

The golden boy and girl were probably walking on a slope, and the inside of the coffin wall was slippery. He didn't hold on for too long, Mo Ran helplessly rolled on top of Chu Wanning.

"Shizun. . ." He bit his lip, feeling aggravated.

This guy originally looked kind of cute as a young man. If he deliberately hid his wolf tail and act like a puppy, he could actually pretend to be similar.

Chu Wanning didn't say a word.

Mo Ran really didn't want to roll around again, so he simply gave up the struggle: "I didn't mean to."

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

Mo Ran whispered: "But the wound on my back still hurts so much. . ."

In the darkness, Chu Wanning seemed to sigh gently. The gongs and drums outside were a bit noisy and Mo Ran wasn't sure whether he had really heard it.

But the next moment, Mo Ran smelled a clearer fragrance of begonia flowers, and Chu Wanning's hand wrapped behind his back, blocking the gap that he might have crashed into.

However, it wasn't a hug. Chu Wanning's arms were empty, deliberately avoiding physical contact with Mo Ran. Only the clothes and Mo Ran were touching each other, but this posture was still somewhat intimate.

"Be careful, don't hit it again." The voice was heavy, like porcelain soaked in a stream, with a kind of ancient demure. If he listened to it without hatred in mind, it was actually very nice.

". . . Alright."

Suddenly no one spoke anymore.

At this point, Mo Ran was still a young teenager who wasn't as tall as an adult, so he leaned in Chu Wanning's arms, his forehead fitting underneath Chu Wanning's chin.

This feeling was both familiar and unfamiliar.

What was familiar was the person lying next to him.

What was unfamiliar was the position they were in.

Once upon a time, the past events all transpired in Wushan Hall where he was lying on Life-Death Peak. The Immortal Emperor, who had become a lonely man, held Chu Waning in his arms for dear life in the long, breathless darkness.

At that time, he was already higher than Chu Wanning, and his strength was greater than that of his shizun's. His arms were like iron bars of a cage, locking the little remaining warmth in his arms, like holding the last fire burning in the world.

He bowed his head and kissed Chu Wanning's long black hair, and then greedily attached himself to his face, burying deep into the neck of the other, biting and nibbling without pity.

"I hate you, Chu Wanning. I hate you so much."

There was some hoarseness in his voice.

"But you're all I have left."

A violent smash shattered Mo Ran's memories. The sound of gongs and drums suddenly stopped, and there was dead silence surrounding them.

"Shizun. . ."

Chu Wanning stretched out his hand. He touched his lips, and said solemnly: "Don't talk, we're here."

Sure enough, there was no sound of footsteps outside, and there was only dead silence.

Chu Wanning's fingertips ignited in a cluster of pale golden flames and stroked the wall of the coffin to make a narrow opening, just large enough for two people to see through.

Sure enough, they were carried to the outskirts of Caidie Town. The earth temple dedicated to the Master of Ceremonies Ghost was already densely packed with coffins. The fragrance of the butterfly powder in the air became even denser, floating into the coffin through the wood.

Mo Ran suddenly felt something was wrong: "Shizun, do you think that the scent here, as well as the scent in the illusion, seems to be a bit different from the smell in Young Master Chen's coffin?"

". . . What do you mean?"

Mo Ran was more sensitive to the smell. He said: "When we were on the north mountain, the moment the coffin opened, the smell that floated out was very good. Considering it was the butterfly fragrance incense, there was nothing to make me dislike it. But since entering the illusion, I always felt that the smell was similar, but there were some subtle differences. I couldn't figure out what was different, but now. . . I think I probably know."

Chu Wanning looked at him sideways: "You don't like the smell?"

Mo Ran stuck against the gap, still staring outside, and then said: "Yeah. I haven't liked the smell of incense since I was a child. The smell here, and in the illusion, isn't the hundred butterfly fragrance poweder at all, but a special high fragrance used by the people of Caidie Town to burn when worshiping the Master of Ceremonies Ghost. Look there—"

Chu Wanning followed his line of sight and looked at the clay incense burner in front of the earth temple. Sure enough, three arm-thick vertical incense sticks were burning, and they were passing a sweet smell into the wind.

The people in Caidie Town were good at making all kinds of powders from various flowers, so all the fragrances that are used to pray to the gods were made in their own town, and they don't buy them from other places. Since the flowers used are all planted in the outskirts of the town, the smell that turned out wasn't that different from something made by an amateur.

Chu Wanning pondered: "Could it be that the fragrance in the coffin of Young Master Chen had nothing to do with the smell in the illusionary realm?"

Before he could ponder the details of this new discovery, a dazzling red light from the earth temple interrupted his thoughts. The two people hiding in the coffin looked together and saw that the temple was shining brightly, reflecting its brilliant surroundings. There was a row of iron shelves on the side of the temple with red lotus lanterns for making wishes. Those lotus lanterns had originally been extinguished, but now they were all being lit up, one by one.

The boys and girls guarding all the coffins knelt down one after another, chanting: "The Master of Ceremonies has come down to earth to guide us wild ghosts and lonely souls to be free from eternal suffering, to meet a good man, to lie in the same coffin, and to be companions in the Underworld."

Through the sound of chanting, the Master of Ceremonies Ghost in the temple radiated golden immortal light. Then, she lowered her eyelids, slowly moved the corners of her mouth, and leapt off the offering platform.

Her movements were quite elegant and graceful, her appearance a million times more elegant

It's a pity that the body was made of mud and she was too heavy. The girl's house, with a bang, was smashed into a big hole in the ground.

Mo Ran: "Pfft."

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

The Master of Ceremonies Ghost also seemed dissatisfied with the placement of her feet. She stared at the big pit in the ground for a while before pacing out of the pit and straightening her clothes.

She looked like a woman wearing heavy makeup, dressed in red and green, quite cheerful. In the dark night, it turned its neck and came to the hundred people buried in coffins. The night breeze was full of the stench of corpses. She seemed to be in a better mood. She slowly opened her arms and let out a few giggles.

"If you believe in me and make offerings to me, you will be able to meet a good destiny and complete the lifelong event that you weren't able to complete during your life." The tender voice drifted in the night, and the ghosts kowtowed in excitement.

"Blessings of the Master of Ceremonies--"

"Please let the Master of Ceremonies bless this marriage--"

The pleadings were coming from all around her and the Master of Ceremonies seemed to be enjoying herself. She slowly moved among the rows of coffins, and her long nails scraped against the bright red vermilion lacquered coffin boards, making a sharp and ear-piercing sound.

Mo Ran was curious: "Shizun, I remember you said that demons, immortals, ghosts, gods, humans and the devil belong to the six realms, but this immortal doesn't like in heaven. How come she's with these ghosts in the underground instead?"

"Because it cares about ghost marriages, and her main food source is the offerings of the ghosts." Chu Wanning said. "Ghosts can greatly increase her power, otherwise she wouldn't be able to cultivate her immortal body in only a hundred years. With such benefits, she's happy to stay with her 'friends' in the underworld."

The Master of Ceremonies Ghost walked around the group of coffins and returned to the front. The empty and tender voice rang again: "Open a coffin and I'll bless the marriage. Starting from the left."

Following its order, the first coffin on the left slowly opened, and the golden boy and girl were greeted by the two corpses inside staggeringly crawled out, and the gorgeous flaming red dress made the face of the dead look pale and lifeless.

The married couple slowly approached the Master of Ceremonies Ghost and knelt down.

The Master of Ceremonies Ghost put her hand between them and said: "In the name of the master of ceremonies, I grant you this marriage after death. From now on, you will be husband and wife, man and woman together in joy."

Mo Ran rolled his eyes and muttered: "If you can't write a poem, don't do it. It should be a good marriage vow, so why does it sound so lewd?"

Chu Wanning said coldly: "You have a dirty mind."

Mo Ran shut up.

But it didn't take long for the Master of Ceremonies Ghost to personally prove that it wasn't Mo Ran who was dirty-minded, but the god in charge of the marriage who was the lewd one.

He saw that the married corpses seemed to have swallowed some kind of aphrodisiac. They were already two dead ghosts, but suddenly they began to tear each other’s clothes, feverishly kissing and embracing each other passionately. They were entangled so shamelessly in public.

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

Mo Ran: ". . ."

"In the name of the Master of Ceremonies, I give you the joys of heaven. If Yin and Yang can intermingle, what's the harm with life and death!"

The cry of the Master of Ceremonies Ghost became more shrill and much louder.

The movements of the two corpses became more and more exaggerated. After removing the clothes, the male corpse was actually full of passion, full of energy, and no different from a living person.

Mo Ran was stunned: ". . . Is this. . . fucking. . . okay???"

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

[nightingaelic]

Fallout New Vegas companions react to taking the Courier's place in Dead Money.

Arcade Gannon: Following the obligatory panic attack and subsequent state of dejection, Arcade would suck it up and start trying to get the heist done with as quickly as possible. He’d roll his eyes at Dean Domino, set aside Dog and God’s identity crisis for later and check Christine over for basic first aid purposes before trudging along toward the various goals set by Elijah. I think he’d opt for stealth over combat when encountering the ghost people out of a sense of self-preservation, but he would probably pocket some clothing and blood samples from any that Dog took down along the way to the casino. The story of the Sierra Madre would fascinate him, particularly the bits and pieces left behind by jaded treasure hunters and Elijah’s previous teams of victims. Arcade would see it as a microcosm of what’s happening in the wider world, a stellar example of partners turning on each other in pursuit of some perceived bright future attached to the hidden treasures of the old world. Vera’s desperate graffiti in her hotel room would speak to him most powerfully: LET GO. He would probably try to argue with Elijah about the viability of the former Brotherhood Elder’s plans, throwing some Latin phrasing in for good measure. No matter his level of success in this, Arcade would stow away as many gold bars as he could to lug home and use to sparingly and anonymously fund the efforts of the Followers of the Apocalypse. 

Craig Boone: During his first encounter with one of the ghost people popping up again after being downed by his sniper rifle, Boone would grunt in annoyance, swap his ammo for hollow points and switch from aiming at chests to aiming at heads. Ghost people bob and weave admirably, but Boone has a gift, and up until he actually got inside the casino, his main obstacle would be avoiding the noxious cloud. The holograms, on the other hand, would probably strike some fear into his heart. After all, how do you destroy something that bullets can’t touch? I don’t think he would put two and two together about the emitters until Christine or Dean pointed them out: From there, it just becomes a scavenger hunt to find the next piece of wall-mounted tech to shoot. Dean, Dog and God would annoy him, but he’d find a kindred spirit in Christine, and would appreciate her ability to convey meaning without words. Hell, he’s pretty good at that himself. Upon finding Elijah, Boone would immediately put a bullet in his head, look at the pile of gold for a few seconds, then walk away and out of the Sierra Madre without looking back. He’d never breathe a word of the place to anyone, but he’d track down all of the Sierra Madre broadcast systems one by one and destroy them, letting the desert swallow the place and its dangers for good. 

Lily Bowen: Grandma Lily wouldn’t understand why the angry man was so desperate to get inside the casino, but she’s more than familiar with being a forced follower of doomed causes. As such, she would be kind to her fellow captives, assuring Christine that she would be able to talk “when she’s ready,” admonishing Dean for his rude behavior and telling Elijah that he would catch more cazadores with honey mesquite than with vinegar. A trail of wrecked ghost people would follow her to the casino itself, but dealing with the holograms would be beyond her expertise: That part would have to be left to Christine or Dean. Elijah would receive a lecture once she made it into the vault, but she would probably let him live unless he attacked first. Dog and God, however, would earn the most care and compassion and even cause some introspection. Ultimately, I think she would help the two become one through intense conversation and shared understanding about what it means to be nightkin with no master, and once freed, she would take him to find a home in Jacobstown. 

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Upon waking up from being kidnapped by Dog on Elijah's behalf, Raul's immediate reaction would be something like "Again?" followed by "Carajo." Elijah’s insistence on pulling off the heist would annoy him, but Raul is constantly looking for something to occupy his unnaturally-long time on earth, and what is the Sierra Madre if not the Mojave’s most deadly time-waster? He would be sarcastic and exasperated for his entire time wearing the bomb collar, but would find ways to be tender and understanding with Christine, and patient and supportive with Dog and God - after all, he knows what it’s like to struggle with two sides of yourself. Dean, on the other hand, would vex him. Here’s another pre-war ghoul hung up on the promises and mistakes of the past, driven to the point of obsession where he can’t break himself out of the cycle. He can’t let go, and I think that doomed state of being would speak to Raul personally. I don’t think he and Dean would get along, but I don’t think they would have a final showdown in the Tampico either. Instead, I think Dean would watch Raul exit the vault’s elevator, flip one souvenir gold bar in his hand with a wry smile, then pocket it before walking out into the wastes, and the pre-war lounge singer would feel a twinge of kindred sadness before going back to rummaging through the casino’s secrets. 

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Following a tense standoff with Elijah while refusing to do as he says, Cass would eventually relent and start dragging her feet around the villa to assemble the ragtag heist crew. She’d hold each of them at a distance, intent on getting herself out alive and refusing to be responsible for anyone else. Nods of sympathy for Christine, dry comebacks for Dean and a quizzical comment or two for Dog and God would be her limit, at least until they all encountered their turning points inside the casino. Each of them would grow her disdain for Elijah and his methods, but, like Raul, I think she would be most personally affected by Dean’s story. She might find herself arguing with him like the courier did with her, about moving on from failed pasts and striking out into something new. I don’t think she’d take the time to argue with Elijah, though, and would take the first chance she got to lock him in the vault forever. She’d make off with as much gold as she could, of course. 

Veronica Santangelo: The Sierra Madre would make Veronica's head explode, though whether or not Elijah could stand her mouth going a million miles a minute once she wakes up would determine whether that would happen literally or figuratively. Tons and tons of pre-war tech lying around! But it's all under a haze of collapsed support beams, toxic gas and ghost people that can jump around like grasshoppers. Father Elijah is alive! But he's trying to break into a casino to build an army of holograms, and he imprisoned Christine. Christine is here! But she's been maimed and abused horribly, and is trying to kill Elijah. I think Elijah would try reasoning with Veronica before threatening her into obeying him - though she would probably figure out how to get the collar off or render it useless within the first 24 hours in the Sierra Madre - but I don’t think he would be able to convince her that his plan to get inside the casino’s vault would benefit the Brotherhood of Steel. The revelations that Christine would bring - the Circle of Steel’s orders, Elijah’s crimes against travelers and treasure hunters, his orchestration of their breakup in order to bring Veronica to the Mojave with him - would probably leave her feeling confused and empty about the man she considers a grandfather figure. She would probably do her best to free Elijah from the casino, but would offer him a choice if she succeeded: Leave the treasures of the Sierra Madre behind and walk away from his accursed quest for power, or remain trapped with what he’d sought. Whatever path he’d choose, Veronica would part ways with him once the vault’s elevator ascended. She’d bundle up Vera’s dress, sigh heavily, then take Christine’s hand and walk away from the Sierra Madre forever. 

ED-E: Ironically, I think ED-E would be a good pick for Elijah to use as a pawn in his heist game, though it would be kind of hard for Dog to hook a collar onto the little robot. If Ulysses can speak to the courier through an eyebot’s speakers, then Elijah can probably do the same to his already-assembled team. ED-E doesn’t have a whole lot of personal motivation, so I think the bot would just beep and go along with whatever it was ordered to do. Christine or Dean would probably take the lead, and ED-E would zoom around the villa, dodging throwing knife spears and trumpeting his location without a care. Once inside the casino, ED-E would again defer to his leader’s orders, with the added benefit of being a robot keeping him from the holograms’ notice. If allowed into the vault, ED-E would diligently pick up exactly six of the gold bars and carry them home to the Mojave, where he would deposit them at the bewildered courier’s feet with a triumphant beep. 

Rex: While much easier to slap a collar on than ED-E, I don't think Rex would fare better than the little robot in terms of leadership abilities. As an ally to whoever gets put in charge, though, he would also be invaluable at sneaking around the Sierra Madre’s various threats, particularly the ghost people. He would take a special shine to Christine and God, who would recognize the canine as a fellow being exploited by powers out of his control. Rex would absolutely hate the holograms, who smell of nothing, and Elijah, who smells of desperation and indifference. He would completely ignore the gold bars. Once freed, he would whine and beg and nudge Christine until she relented and left the city of the dead, leading her home to the New Vegas strip and another woman whose scent told him of metal bunkers and longing. 

[youngerdrgrey]

highlight(s) of my life // a WildMoore fanfic (2/2)

about: Inspired by Sophie's new S3 highlights. Good Bro ™ Ryan Wilder teases Sophie about what other post-break up activities Sophie might have partaken in. Sophie is less than amused and more than a little interested.

read part one here + read part two on ao3

🦇

Right. It’s not like Ryan hasn’t considered it. Sophie is, well, she’s Sophie freaking Moore. But she’s also Sophie ‘Kate’s ex,’ and Sophie ‘member of the Bat Team.’ Sophie ‘quit her job after Ryan wanted her to.’ Sophie ‘sat with Ryan on Coryana when they both thought Ryan was dying.’

There have been many nights where Ryan lies awake with the ghost of Sophie’s hand in hers. It’s ridiculous. She couldn’t really feel the heat of Sophie through the gloves. But she could feel Sophie’s shoulder. Hear Sophie’s breathing along with the crackle of the field. Remember Sophie’s voice straining as she urged Ryan to hold on just a little longer, just until they got to Luke.

Ryan used to say she wanted to go peacefully, in her sleep, with her wife beside her. Very The Notebook. Dying on Coryana like that wouldn’t have been the exact same, but it wasn’t the worst interpretation.

Maybe that moment did something to her. Maybe it changed them both. Maybe it… crossed some wires to have literally been there together through that. Or maybe it has more to do with the last few weeks. With everything from “I know you’re Batwoman, Ryan” through to here, in the bar, with Sophie’s expectant eyes on her.

What the fuck does Ryan say to that?

Another woman slips up beside Sophie before Ryan can respond. This brown skinned girl with dark blue box braids and a staggering set of dimples. Her smile’s amazing as she turns to Sophie.

“I’ve seen you around here before. Vodka, right?” she asks.

Ryan responds at the same time that Sophie does. “Tequila,” they say together. Ryan flashes back to that night of Never Have I Ever at the loft. Back when the couch seemed miles long and too small at the same time, when Ryan’s face betrayed her and softened as she watched Sophie think up things that she hadn’t done.

Sophie gives Box Braids a polite smile before looking back to Ryan. “Can we…?” She motions with her head to the side.

Box Braids’ eyes volley between Sophie and Ryan. “Ah. Well, can I still get the discount?”

Ryan shakes her head at Box Braids. “Deal’s off. Sorry.” Box Braids walks off, and Sophie stares at Ryan expectantly. The thing is, if Ryan goes with Sophie, then everything changes. That should be a good thing. That could be, right?

Ryan scans the bar for some kind of excuse. Sophie clocks the avoidance. Sophie’s earlier nervousness shifts into impatience. Her brows lift as she tries to tamp it down.

“Seriously? You’re supposed to be off soon anyway.”

Ryan chuckles. “Leaving work early? Issa bad look for the manager.” Sophie glares at Ryan, which, okay, that’s fair. Sophie’s trying to put herself out there, and Ryan can feel her heart pounding in her chest.

“You know what else is a bad look?” Sophie motions at the general charged air between them. “This. I’m a big girl, Ryan. If you’re not interested, then say that. I can handle it.”

After being rejected by her own mom, a bartender probably wouldn’t hold much weight. Ryan gulps. It’s not that she isn’t interested. It’s just… the timing and the bar and… the them. But she can’t let Sophie leave thinking that Ryan’s not interested.

Ryan pulls her apron off and slips it under the counter. “Come on.” She leads the way from behind the bar and out towards the back exit. Sophie follows her without another word. They turn down the small employee-only hallway and out the door to the back.

It’ll be better out here. It’s private, but not too private. The loft would’ve been an awful idea. Mary’s gone tonight, and it would’ve just been the two of them. Just Sophie with her sunshine hair and incredible lips.

The back of the bar’s well lit, but it’s an overhead light that somehow makes Sophie look smaller than normal. Sophie holds herself tighter when she’s unsure. As if exuding confidence will make up for the fact that she so clearly doesn’t know how to proceed here.

Sophie breaks the silence first. “Believe it or not, I thought this would go much smoother.”

Has she thought about this a lot? How long has Sophie been into her? Ryan bites down the questions and goes for a smooth response of her own.

“How’d you see it going?”

Sophie glances around. Her eyes land on the bench against the brick wall. It’s mostly for smokers and vapers. One time Ryan saw two people hooking up on it. Ryan’d hosed them down and taped a ‘DO NOT HAVE SEX HERE’ sign on the wall behind it. Sophie chuckles at the sign as she crosses to sit down.

She leans back. “First, I walk in with my new hair and my nice outfit, but you don’t see me right away.” She’s already off to the wrong start. Ryan had spotted Sophie the moment that she entered The Hold Up. Ryan played it off, but Ryan usually knew where Sophie was.

Sophie continues, “I sit at the corner of the bar and wait until you look my way. You’d go to make me a drink, but I’d stop you and say that we’re getting out of here.”

Ryan would’ve smiled at that. Would’ve joked that Sophie isn’t in charge here, and Sophie would’ve lifted a brow in a silent challenge. Her apron would’ve been tucked under the counter within minutes.

Sophie grins. “I drive us out to the quarry near the river. There’s not much to do there, so it’s quiet when nothing else ever is. I’ve got blankets in my car, and a hoodie since you never wear real clothes.”

Ryan cuts in. “I wear real clothes.” Sophie gives her a doubtful look from the bench. There’s still way too much space between them, so Ryan walks over to sit beside Sophie. “I’m not knocking your plan or anything, but you know I have a van, right? It’s got a heater, a ton of blankets, and a lot more space than your car.”

Sophie’s eyes widen. “Wait, is that where you went when Kate came back?” She turns to face Ryan as her own face crumples. “You chose a van over staying with me?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Ryan insists.

Sophie’s tone hardens anyway. “Yeah, right.”

Ryan shakes her head. “It wasn’t. I…. I’m used to holding space and giving it back.” In group homes, in seasonal jobs, and here, in the most important job she’s ever had. “You were so excited to have her back, and I didn’t want to be in the way of that. It’s easier if I just let go.”

Sophie breathes that in, and her eyes seek out Ryan’s. Ryan averts hers to the ground in front of them. She doesn’t need to see the pity. It’s not—

“Hey,” Sophie bumps her shoulder into Ryan’s, “You’re not in the way. You were once or twice, like when you stopped my fear toxin run, but….” Sophie takes a deep breath. “I meant what I said during the blackout. About you making Batwoman your own and giving the city hope again. It’s not the suit that did that. It’s you. And I would gladly spend the whole night praising you if that’s what it takes for you to see that.”

Her tone’s earnest and raspy in the way that makes Ryan’s heart swell. It’s hard to talk around it, so Ryan jokes, “I don’t need your praise. It’s not really my thing.”

Sophie reaches up to cup Ryan’s cheek in her hand. Ryan melts into the touch. It would be embarrassing, if not for the fact that Sophie’s hand shakes just a bit against Ryan’s skin.

As Ryan turns her head to face Sophie’s, Sophie whispers, “Show me what is?”

Honestly, the praise thing would be pretty great. Ryan could use a few reminders that she’s meant to be here, that Sophie wants this and wants them. That Ryan’s not a placeholder and is actually the reason Sophie’s sitting out here instead of going after any of the women who might want her.

Ryan lifts a hand to the highlights in Sophie’s hair. “You really do look amazing.”

Sophie smirks. “You should see them in the sun. Maybe in the morning?”

Ryan laughs. “Very smooth.” She drops her forehead, and Sophie brings hers to meet it. “I’m not that easy.”

Sophie snorts. “You’ve never been easy, Ryan. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to try.”

This could be an awful idea. But Ryan’s done a lot worse than go out with a woman she’s already falling for. Ryan has to look through her lashes to meet Sophie’s eyes. They’re rich and searching, and Ryan knows hers could give the answer. Hers could give everything. So she pulls back just enough to bring her lips to Sophie’s. A soft brush at first. A yes to trying. A yes to a night on the river and finding each other under the covers. A yes to a life, if that’s what Sophie wants.

Sophie chases after Ryan’s lips, catching her and deepening the conversation. Because she does want. She’s shown again and again that she wants anything Ryan will give her. She’s gone along with ridiculous plans and the countless times that Ryan’s iced her out. She’s here for this, and as her tongue swipes across Ryan’s lips, Ryan finally lets her in.

When they do break away, Ryan’s breathless. “You wanna see my van?”

Sophie laughs, then nods, then kisses Ryan again. “Who’s easy now?”

🦇

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: Family - 9

The Tower: Family An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 2443

Warnings:  Pregnancy, mentions of past child abuse

Synopsis: With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family.  When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.

Chapter 9: Ghost of Family Past

It wasn’t long before I felt settled in the new place.  I loved the house out at the compound and I was glad we had it, but it had been so large that it still felt a lot like a hotel to me.  This new layout at the tower and the familiarity of being in the place where I’d spent so much time, I felt at home.  Not to mention it was nice being in the city again.  We could order in food, something that had been impossible out at the compound.  It was great having the big meals where we arranged them all by type and then just took what we wanted again.  People had gone back to stealing things from each other’s plates.  All these little habits that had been a huge part of our collective lives were coming back and I loved it even after a few days.

Things quickly found their rhythm too.  Natasha and Wanda’s morning sickness was hitting hard in the morning so they were generally staying home.  Wanda was in full nesting mode.  She was spending a lot of time with the kids and looking at baby clothes online.  Natasha was working in the office, going over mission briefings, and compiling intel.  She also was adamant that we did not take the kids out without her, so she would finish work in the afternoons and take them and anyone else that wanted to go to the park and the library for storytime.  Her new cloaking powers meant that they were going to be able to live a fairly normal childhood in the end.  Or at least, paparazzi free.

I was mostly spending my time between the lab and home and planned to keep it that way as long as I could.  So far I wasn’t getting any morning sickness.  I was still really only barely pregnant, so all those signs hadn’t kicked in yet, though I was expecting them to start soon.  Mostly I was just relaxed and enjoying life returning to normal.

Bucky had booked Tyr and Spotty in to be groomed and the two of us went to take them to the groomers during our lunch break one day not long after getting back.  It was the first time I had gone out without Natasha since the wedding and so my first experience with the paparazzi after they got word that I had married Tony Stark.

They had been grouped around the front door and security had to push them back as we made our way out with the dogs.  Mostly they were calling out my name and asking about the wedding.  Some seemed to be trying to make Bucky angry for some inconceivable reason.  Yelling out to him about being a second choice.  Luckily he was good at keeping his reactions neutral.  He just put his arm around me and pulled me a little closer.

“Should have gone out the back,” I said.

He shrugged.  “They’re around there too.  Just ignore them.  You’re all glowy so the pics are gonna be nice.”

I giggled.  “‘Cause that’s what I care about.”

“Just keep walking, don't engage.  Security will keep them out of arm's length and if they get past them, they won’t have any arms when I’m done with them,” Bucky said.

“Bucky!” I scolded.

He chucked and rubbed my shoulder.  “I was kidding.”

“How long will we have to worry about them?”  I asked, looking back over my shoulder at the crowd following after us.

“They’re just greedy ��cause they don’t get how the wedding thing worked.  They’ll get over it soon.  It’s not like they’re gonna catch us going out that way very often,” Bucky explained.  “If it makes you feel any better, the dogs think they’re fucking annoying too.”

I laughed.  “Oh no, babies,” I cooed and reached down and scratched Spotty’s back.

“You better pat Tyr too,” Bucky said. “He’s jealous.”

I bit back more laughter and pet the Cavalier awkwardly as we kept moving.

“Elly!”

The use of my less formal name by someone in the crowd drew my attention and I turned to see who had called out.  The voice was familiar too, and yet it wasn’t until I saw who was calling out to me that I recognized who it was.

“Elly, please.”  My younger sister was being held back by two security guards, looking at me imploringly.  I hadn’t heard from any of my family in years.  I had kept in touch with my sisters for a little while after I ran away from home, but when they started dating what my father would have considered the right people and I remained the black sheep.  The last time I spoke to any of them was around the time I had been kidnapped by Madame Masque and only then was I calling my father once a month so he wouldn’t send out the police to find me.

“It’s alright,” I said the security.  Bucky looked at me confused.   “It’s my sister,” I explained quietly as they let her through.

He nodded.  “Keep walking,” he said, his voice low and serious.

I started walking again letting Amanda catch up to me.  I wasn’t sure what to say to her.  Or why she was here.  It wasn’t like people hadn’t known where I was for the past six years.  I’d been in the media on and off since my first date with Tony.

“Tell us what you want,” Bucky said as she pulled up next to us.  There was a growl in his voice.  He was angry and protective and worried Amanda was here to hurt me.

“It’s okay, Buck,” I said rubbing his hip.  “Let her say what she wants to say.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch,” Amanda said.

“I didn’t exactly keep in touch either, Mandy,” I said.

She shrugged a little.  “I know but I was the one that stopped first.”

I could feel Bucky tensing more and more as we walked.  I slipped my hand into his back pocket and looked up at him.  “It’s okay,” I said quietly.  He scowled at me and nodded but he didn’t relax at all.

“So… what?”  I asked.  “You suddenly got into the mood to make amends and you thought rather than calling or reaching out to me online you’d stalk my home?”

“It’s not like that,” Amanda said.  “You cut us all off when you started -” she waved her hand in the direction of me and Bucky.  “-all of this.  We haven’t been able to get through to you.”

“We?”  I asked, not sure who exactly she meant by ‘we’.  Then the rest of what she’d said sunk in.  “Wait… what?”

“Mom and dad.  They’ve been trying to get through to you, but they can’t get past your security,” I stopped walking and it took a few steps for either Buck or Amanda to realize I wasn’t with them anymore.

“El?”  Bucky said, turning back to me.

“Why wouldn’t I have been told that my parents were trying to get in contact with me?”  I asked.

Bucky shook his head.  “I don’t know, doll,” he replied.  “Would you want them to?”

“I - I -” I shook my head, trying to clear it.  My brain was a jumble of thoughts that involved my abusive parents trying to get back into my life and my overprotective spouses not telling me shit that directly involved me again.  “How long?  When did they first try?”

“We need to keep moving, El,” Bucky said.

“When?!”  I shouted.  The paparazzi had all started taking pictures in a frenzy like this was the best scoop they’d ever gotten.  Bucky moved to me quickly, putting his arm around my waist.

“Come on, darlin’.  Not here,” he said quietly.

I nodded and we started walking again.  “When was it?” I asked again.

“When they read about the wedding,” she said.

“Oh, that’d be right,” I snarked, rolling my eyes. “And you haven’t thought about me at all?  You have a niece and nephew and it didn’t cross your mind.”

“Well, so do you,” Amanda retorted.  “You’re hardly in a position to judge me for that.”

“You have kids?”  I asked, frowning as I looked her over.  She looked a lot like me.  Her hair was cut short, in one of those ‘I want to speak to the manager’ styles, and she was dressed in a grey skirt suit.  But aside from the styling differences between us, there was no mistaking this woman was my sister.

“Yes, three,” she said.  “And so does Olivia, and so does Ian.”

“Right,” I said.  “I’m sorry.”

We’d arrived at the dog groomers and Bucky turned to Amanda.  “Wait here,” he growled.

Amanda drew herself up, obviously not used to being ordered around by random strangers.  “Now listen here…”

“No, you listen to me,” Bucky hissed.  “You ambush us while we’re out walking the dogs and you think you get to run the show?  I don’t fuckin’ think so.  You’re gonna wait here while we drop our dogs off and then we’ll talk.”

Amanda took a few steps back like she was facing a wild animal.  Bucky put his hand in the middle of my back and guided me inside.  “You okay?”  He asked.

“I … I don’t really know,” I admitted.  I didn’t know how I felt.  It was a mess.

“Tell her to fuck off then,” Bucky said, picking Tyr up and putting him in my arms.

“She wasn’t the one that hit me, Buck,” I said.  “She was a kid in that house too.”

“Right,” Bucky huffed.  He picked up Spotty and we carried them to the counter.  We checked them in and were given some paperwork and a time to pick them back up and Bucky took me aside.  “Alright, this is what we’re gonna do.  We’ll take her to that bar on the corner.  Get something to eat and get to the bottom of why exactly she’s here.  Then we’ll get the dogs and go home and you can think about it, alright?”

I nodded.  I couldn’t fault the logic.  He went to move and I grabbed his arm.  “Why didn’t anyone tell me they were trying to get in touch?”

“I don’t know, El,” he said.  “I promise if I did I’d tell you.  I’m guessing either Steve or Tony said not to let their calls come through, or they just haven’t got that far into the messages while we were away.”

“Right,” I said.

“You can ask them tonight,” he said.  “It’s gonna be okay.  I promise.  I’m here.  You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

I nodded and we went out to find Amanda.  She was waiting with our security detail and Bucky approached her.  She took a few steps back, and I saw that same kind of terror in her eyes I always felt when I knew I was in trouble.  It made me feel sick and I hurried up to Bucky and took his elbow.  “Mandy,” I said quickly.  “Can we have lunch?  Talk this over?”

Her eyes flicked from Bucky to me and she nodded.  “Yes.  Yes, please.”

We walked down to the bar in silence, me clinging to Bucky’s hand.  We were given a booth in the back and some of the security took a booth near us, while others waited outside.  After a quick peruse of the menu, Bucky went to place an order for us.  I wanted nothing more than to order a whole tray of shots and just drink myself into a coma, but thankfully rationality won out.

“Ended up with someone just like dad after all, didn’t you?”  Amanda snapped when Bucky went to the bar.

“Bucky is nothing like our father,” I hissed, balling my fists under the table.

“Right, looks it,” she snarked.

I clenched my jaw as I tried not to completely lose my temper.  I wanted to just yell at her that she didn’t know him and she didn’t know me.  That I hadn’t ever felt safer with anyone than I had with the people I was with.  But there was no point.  She had her idea of what he was like and while he was in angry protective mode, that wouldn’t change.

“Why are you here?  Really?” I asked.  “And why now?”

Bucky returned to the table with a number, a glass of white wine for Amanda, a beer for him, and a pineapple juice for me.  He sat close to me, putting his arm around my shoulders and resting his hand on my hip.

Amanda’s eyes flicked to Bucky and back to me and she let out a breath.  “Mom and dad asked me to come.  You’d blocked them on most things, and they tried calling the Avengers people, but they weren’t getting through.  They want to see you.”

“Over my dead body,” Bucky growled.

“Buck, honey.  I really need you to not do that,” I said.  He huffed and took a drink of his beer.

Amanda took a sip of her wine and fiddled with the glass.  “They did think about it when you were pregnant.”

“But they waited until I got a rich husband, huh?” I snarked.

“They’ve changed, Elly,” Amanda said.  “Dad’s mellowed out.”

I shook my head.  “Uh-huh.  And the fact they’ve chosen now that I’ve married one of the most famous billionaires to get in contact is a coincidence.”

Amanda sagged a little and blinked her eyes.  “Elly, I know it was harder for you than the rest of us.  I know that when you ran away they just wrote you off.  When it came out you were in this big -” she waved her hands again.

“Polyamorous.  The word you’re looking for is polyamorous,” I hissed.

“Right, that,” Amanda said.  “He completely lost it.  Said it was going to look bad on them.  That if people found out he’d lose his position.”

“You’re not spinning it in his favor there, Mandy,” I deadpanned.

She sighed.  “I know, but… he’s your dad.  And they’re your kid’s grandparents.  They’re really good grandparents.”

Bucky stiffened up.  “If you think for one second, I’m letting my kids near that monster…”

Amanda leaned over the table and put her hand on mine.  “Please, Elly.  Consider it.  For me.”

There was a fear in her eyes and I looked down.  There was a thread that joined me to her.  It was very faint and hard to see with all the other much brighter ones.  I looked at it and I knew… we were family and I was going to have to meet with my parents.

// NEXT

[aloha-solar]

The Spaces Between the Stars: Chapter One

AO3 is here

Pairing: fem!Shep x Kaidan

Rating: M

Ex-Cerberus Operative Miranda Lawson was not a doctor. The Alliance military and the staff at King James Hospital made that quite clear when she sent in an inquiry to join their team. They said that while they appreciated civilian aid, “Miss Lawson was not equipped to handle the delicacies of medical aid on severely injured patients.” In an ordinary case, Miranda would have agreed with them. She didn’t know how to perform an appendectomy. She didn’t have a clue on the proper procedure to amputate a limb. Hell, if she needed to deliver a baby, Miranda felt pretty sure she would end up telling the mother to keep her legs crossed until the doctors arrived.

But Commander Shepard wasn’t an ordinary case. Miranda rebuilt the woman from scratch, fitted her with different cybernetics to repair the pieces they couldn’t replicate from ordinary skin tissue, and made her look and perform better than before. She brought a clinically brain-dead woman back to life. Whatever medical expertise that was, Miranda had it.

But the Alliance didn’t want an ex-terrorist working on their galactic hero. They wanted an actual doctor, and Miranda felt pretty sure most of the doctors in the hospital never worked on someone who ended up being as much synthetic as organic. She sent another fifty letters, all of them rejected. But she still waited. People always came around…even if it did take them a while.

“Are you serious about all this, princess?” Jack asked one night. “You seriously think they’re going to let some cheerleader with nice tits into one of their secret operations?”

“To be honest, Miranda, that does sound a little bit far-fetched,” Kasumi said. “Okay, well, more than a little, but I’m trying to be nice.” Miranda fought against rolling her eyes. The three women weren’t exactly friends, but when the whole universe seemed to be on the brink of destruction only a month before, it seemed only fair to let bygones be bygones, even though Jack still probably wanted to paint her bedroom with Miranda’s innards, while Kasumi most likely stole half of Miranda’s credits while Miranda was watching. However, Miranda wouldn’t have even sought out the position if it weren’t for Jack and Kasumi: several of Jack’s students were being treated at the same hospital, and Jack caught a glimpse at Shepard when she got lost after visiting hours. Kasumi got access into Alliance records during her work on the Crucible and discovered the files detailing Shepard’s rescue and her current medical condition. Jack had gotten the message to Miranda first, while Kasumi ended up sneaking into their comm channel and spamming the chat with all the data she could find about Shepard’s status.

Miranda drummed the rim of her wine glass, like she was playing a piano. “Why not?” she said. “I know every piece of Shepard’s body, both inside and out. I know what pieces of her are still organic, and what areas are heavily synthetic. I spent two years of my life trying to bring her back.”

“This isn’t some kind of fucked-up Frankenstein shit show,” Jack said. “This is actually treating a person.”

“She crash-landed on Earth,” Miranda pointed out.

“Yeah, but there was still an intact body.”

“And who gave Shepard the parts to keep that intact body? When we first got her, she was more like a pile of meat than an actual human. If the Alliance is working on an intact body, they’ve got the Lazarus Project to thank for that.”

“That’s not the fucking point.”

“It’s a point enough.”

“Maybe the Alliance is upset that the woman who rebuilt the Commander Shepard wasn’t actually Alliance-affiliated,” Kasumi said. “Or at least, she wasn’t at the time.”

“I’m still not.”

“There you go,” Kasumi said, taking a sip of her neon-orange drink. Miranda wondered if Kasumi drank enough of it, she would actually be visible when she cloaked herself. “They want to keep everything in the family. Better to not risk an outside source ruining the Alliance’s poster girl.”

“The queen of the girl scouts,” Jack muttered into her bottle of beer.

“So if the Alliance screws anything up, they’d end up blaming me and my Cerberus background,” Miranda said. She downed the last of her wine. In the dim light of the bar, it looked a little too much like blood.

“Yeah,” Kasumi said. “They screw up, they can blame Cerberus for shoddy workmanship. They make her as good as new, it was all the technological advances of the Alliance.” Miranda snorted. She grabbed the wine bottle and poured another glass, nearly overfilling it and spilling it all over the table.

“You’d think that because we worked with her, we’d actually get a chance to see her,” Miranda said, more into her wineglass than her tablemates.

“I think it’s more ‘forced into helping her on a suicide mission’, princess,” Jack said. She opened another bottle of beer with her teeth. Miranda winced and prayed that the white stuff she saw was beer froth and not Jack’s teeth chipping away. Kasumi peered at Jack from underneath her hood and caught the bottlecap when Jack tossed it to the side. “Besides, Kasumi’s still a thief, so they don’t want her stealing their fucking medical equipment. You were on the run for six-goddamn-months, so they don’t know what the fuck you were up to: you could have still been with the Illusive Man for all the Alliance knew. And I’m the Psychotic Biotic, so that’s totally someone they want around the Savior of the Galaxy.”

“Are they calling her that now?” Kasumi said, taking an orange slice from her drink and squeezing it onto the table. She dabbed at the juice spots with her glove. “I can see the air quotes around it already.”

“The point is,” Miranda said, “the rest of the Normandy crew—even Garrus and Tali—get to see her whenever they come back. We’re the poor idiots pushed off to the side.” Miranda swallowed the rest of her wine in the glass, before grabbing the bottle and finishing it off in three long gulps. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, before standing up so abruptly that she made her chair fall backwards and the table wobble. Kasumi grabbed her drink without spilling a drop. She made a grab for Jack’s at the same time Jack did, spilling the rest of the beer onto the floor.

“What the fuck, princess?” Jack said, standing up too.

“You don’t need to follow me,” Miranda said. “I’m going to go to the hospital again. I just need an official explanation other than the vague political bullshit they gave me.”

“You just downed a whole bottle of wine in like ten fucking minutes,” Jack said. “You’re going to be shitfaced walking in there.”

“Liquid courage,” Miranda said.

“Oh my God.”

“Why are you questioning it?” Kasumi said, taking another few sips of her drink before dumping it into a potted plant just a few steps away from the table. “It’s either going to go extraordinarily well or extraordinarily poorly. Whatever it is, it’s great entertainment.”

“Kasumi—” Miranda said, but Kasumi cut her off by cloaking herself. Jack rolled her eyes and sucked at the beer bottle, trying to get the last dregs.

“Are you coming?” Miranda asked. Jack spat the bottle back out onto the table. It bounced and rolled off next to the potted plant that Kasumi threw her drink in.

“And miss the chance to see the Cerberus cheerleader embarrass herself? Fuck no,” Jack said.

“Good,” Miranda said, in a tone that implied the opposite. With legs wobblier than a baby giraffe, she led the invisible Kasumi and the (unfortunately) still visible Jack out of the bar and onto the sidewalk. Jack quickly motioned for a taxi and forced Miranda in first, then Kasumi, then Jack.

“Take us to King James Hospital,” Miranda said. Her stomach was churning like crazy. She wondered if wine vomit stained fabrics in the same way actual wine did.

“So what’s the plan?” Kasumi asked as she uncloaked herself.

“I dunno. Probably laugh at her when she pukes all over Admiral Hackett,” Jack said.

“I’m just trying to get an explanation,” Miranda said, shooting Jack a glare that should have killed her five times over. Unfortunately, Jack was still alive. Even worse, she kept snarking on Miranda.

“Remember how after Pragia I said I was going to spill your guts all over the walls?” Jack said, snickering. “Looks like you’re about to do it yourself, cheerleader.”

“Can we not go that far?” Kasumi said. “I am not in the mood to see if a test-tube human throws up differently than me.”

“I mean, she’s gotta be flawed somewhere, right?” Jack said. Her face flickered in the streetlamps, making her look ghost-like. “Seems not even Little Miss Fucking Perfect can avoid getting hungover.”

“Can we please stop now?” Miranda asked, clutching her stomach. The bottle of wine on an empty stomach—“You need to eat carbs before you go nuts on the alcohol!” Kasumi said when Miranda ordered the wine, but of course she didn’t listen—seemed to only get worse the longer it took to get to the hospital. Or maybe it was the nerves. Miranda sent in a lot of letters to the hospital, but she’d never actually gone in and spoken to the doctors face-to-face. Maybe she never had the time. Maybe she didn’t want to interrupt them. Maybe she was scared at taking the rejection in-person. It felt like one of the Illusive Man’s tricks, only there was no way to charm herself out of answering it. She put her head on the cool window and closed her eyes as Jack and Kasumi argued as to whether Jack could or couldn’t get alcohol poisoning based on her implant.

Eventually, the car slowed to a stop. Kasumi re-cloaked herself, Jack nearly fell out of the cab, and Miranda gave the driver five pounds extra than she was originally going to, but it seemed like the least she could do for him, especially considering that he just spent half an hour with the world’s best thief, the Psychotic Biotic, and the Cerberus Cheerleader. After she watched the driver peel away, Miranda staggered around and blinked in the hospital’s bright lights.

“You’d think they’d reduce their power a little bit, considering that London has power rations going on,” Kasumi mused from somewhere on Miranda’s left-hand side.

“And let five-hundred people die?” Jack said, scoffing.

“Fair point. Also, Miranda,” Kasumi said, briefly un-cloaking herself again. “I was able to steal some of Cerberus’ files before the Normandy got impounded. It’s all pretty much from the Lazarus Project.” Miranda blinked.

“What?” she said.

“I can transfer the files over to an omni-tool or a datapad. What one would you prefer?”

“Damn, Kasumi,” Jack said. “How did you even get those files?”

“A thief never reveals her secrets,” Kasumi said, typing on her omni-tool. “Or maybe that’s what magicians are supposed to do. Whatever. Anyway, Miranda, I’ve set the files to both your internet and extranet address.” Miranda pulled out her omni-tool. Sure enough, she received ten attachments. Tentatively, Miranda opened one. Her own voice came booming back out at her as a lung surgery played on the screen.

“As you can see here, we ended up abandoning the idea of using tissue from the right lung and instead just used synthetic pieces in order to repair the punctures in her left lung,” screen-Miranda said.

“What made you change your mind?” another voice said, and Miranda swallowed. She forgot that she gave every piece of information to the Illusive Man.

Another voice came on, and Miranda fought the urge to roll her eyes. Wilson. “With all due respect, sir, Operative Lawson realized that ou—my initial plan was foolish. We couldn’t take tissue from the right lung without causing severe damage to it.”

“I see,” the Illusive Man said. He paused to take a drag from his cigarette, and Miranda used the ensuing silence as a chance to turn her omni-tool off.

“Never thought I’d hear his voice again,” she mumbled.

“You want to know something funny?” Kasumi said. “In a lot of the Alliance documents, they abbreviated his name as ‘TIM’.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jack said. “And I thought Rodriguez’s name was pathetic. TIM? Yeah, that’s a name that’ll make people shit themselves on the battlefield.”

“They won’t accept it,” Miranda said. Jack and Kasumi glanced at her. “They’ll hear the Illusive Man’s voice and they’ll think I’m still with Cerberus. Let’s get back to the bar.” She turned around to call another taxi, but Jack yanked her back with a biotic pull. She pulled a little too hard, and Miranda landed right on her rear.

“Damn,” Jack said. “With a bubble-butt like that I’m surprised you didn’t end up bouncing.”

“What was that for?” Miranda said as Kasumi yanked her up.

“Yeah, it’s called ‘you’re not leaving this hospital until you go in there’, Queen-Bee,” Jack said. She crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side. “The Illusive Man was a major piece of shit, and if there’s a hell I hope that fucker’s rotting in it. But it’s like you said: you were the one who brought Shepard back, and you were the one who built the squad that took on the Collector base. You might piss me off most of the time, princess, but there’s two good things I can say about you: one, you’ve got nice tits, and two, you’re damn good at getting shit done when you put your mind to it.”

“That’s about the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Miranda said. She took a deep breath and gently shook Kasumi’s arm free. She stared up at the hospital again, her fists clenched. “All right then. Let’s do this.”

“And Jack and I will be there as moral support!” Kasumi said. “Jack’ll be the one you can look at for encouragement and me…well, it’ll be good to know my presence is felt.” Miranda gave a quick nod to the two of them before marching her way up to the hospital. Her legs still felt shaky, though she wasn’t quite sure if that was from nerves or from the wine. Luckily, she still managed to make it to the reception desk without turning her ankle in her boots. The receptionist—a young woman whose nametag read “Charlotte”—looked up at Miranda and Jack.

“Erm…” Charlotte said, her fingers hovering above the terminal as she took in their appearances. “Did you two just come from a fancy-dress party?” Miranda did suppose they looked a sight: while her white body-suit was more public-friendly than Jack’s crop top and tattoo combo, the two probably did look like they’d come from a costume contest instead of a bar.

“Good thing I cloaked myself, right?” Kasumi whispered in Miranda’s ear.

“No, actually,” Miranda said to both Charlotte and Kasumi. “We’re here to see Commander Shepard.” Charlotte bit her lip and looked at a spot on her desk.

“Commander Shepard isn’t here,” she said, fiddling with a sticky key on the terminal. “Was there anything else I could help you with?”

“Oh, bullshit,” Jack said, and the two women pressed their palms and leaned over Charlotte’s desk at the same time. “Shepard’s here. She might be in a different ward, but this is the only hospital in a three-mile radius that’s had patients that were hit by the Reaper beam.”

“Plus we worked with Shepard, so we’re kept in the loop as to what happened to her,” Miranda lied.

“Plus I had access to the Alliance information that stated Shepard’s current medical condition,” Kasumi said, shimmering in-and-out of her cloak as she said it. Charlotte glanced from Jack, to Miranda, to the space where Kasumi stood, and wilted.

“She’s on the third floor. She’s had a whole private room to herself,” Charlotte said. “All the people from the Alliance keep going in there. I think one of the admirals is in there right now. Can you please…go away now?”

“That wasn’t too difficult, was it?” Miranda said. She turned on her heel and walked away. “Come on Jack,” she called as she walked to the elevator. She took a quick glance around and saw Jack do a quick fake-out at Charlotte’s desk before running up to catch the elevator. Miranda clicked the button.

“We make quite a power-team, don’t we?” Miranda said as she watched the numbers on the elevator slowly reach their floor. Jack snorted.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” she said as the elevator doors opened.

“If we’re going to be a girl-squad, can we be like Charlie’s Angels?” Kasumi piped up as the three women stepped into the elevator. “No, wait, actually bring Shepard, Samara, and Tali into the equation and we’ll be like the Sailor Scouts!”

“Who?” Jack asked.

---

Shepard’s room wasn’t that hard to find. It was the only one surrounded completely by Alliance military. Miranda, Jack, and Kasumi turned a corner and, upon seeing the huge swarm of blue in the distance, all quickly turned back around.

“That many members of the Alliance there?” Miranda said. She glared at Jack. “I thought you said there weren’t many people around her room!” Jack shrugged.

“That receptionist did tell us that one of the admirals was in there right now,” Kasumi said. “They’re probably just there for protection.”

“There’s like ten guys there,” Jack pointed out. “They don’t need that many. And if you’re that worried, I’m sure a quick shockwave will send ‘em running.”

“We’re not here to give this hospital anymore patients.”

“If you’d like, I could go check,” Kasumi said. She shimmered and became invisible again. Her soft-padded shoes echoed down the hall as she ran down, before quickly running back. As soon as she saw Miranda and Jack again, she became visible. “What was that admiral that Shepard kept talking about? The one with the grey beard? Hatchet?”

“Hackett,” Miranda said. She sighed and buried her face in her palms. “Great. This is going as well as ever.”

“Might mean two things,” Jack said. “Either Shepard is awake and communicating, or she’s about to die and there’s like a funeral going on in there.”

Miranda pulled her head from her hands so quickly she banged her against the wall. “Kasumi, did you see Shepard’s condition?” she asked.

“No, I could only see the admiral,” Kasumi said. “But they wouldn’t bring ten bodyguards in unless something really big happened, right?”

“And this ward does require fewer medical staff. They moved her from the last time I was in to see the kids,” Jack said. “Before, she was in kind of like an emergency unit.”

“Great,” Miranda said, rubbing the back of her head. “So what am I supposed to do? Just walk up to them and act like I’m Shepard’s doctor or something?”

“Her nurse,” Kasumi said. “That would be a little bit more believable than a doctor.”

“Yeah, a nurse in a porno,” Jack said. “With that outfit, there’s no way they’re going to think she’s a nurse or a doctor.”

“I can steal one,” Kasumi offered.

“A nurse or a doctor? You’re good Kasumi, but no-one’s that good.”

“I meant an outfit. And we’ll all act like medical staff.”

“And then we’ll all get put in jail because we were caught impersonating medical staff,” Miranda said, sighing. She stood up properly. “No, the only way to face this is head on.”

“You’re not gonna puke, are you?” Jack asked from below.

“No,” Miranda said, though she wouldn’t be surprised if she did. “Wish me luck.” She stumbled around the corner again, and tried to muster up any sort of courage, drunken or otherwise. She couldn’t. What she got was a few angry soldiers staring at her as she wobbled towards them.

“I’m here to see Admiral Hackett,” Miranda said. Even before the sentence left her lips, she was aware of how stupid that sentence sounded, like a child on their first job interview.

“The admiral?” one of the soldiers said, and the one on her right hand side started to snicker. “Sure, if you pay me a million credits.”

“So the Alliance is accepting bribes now?” Miranda said, crossing her arms.

“How about two million and a night in bed with you?” said a soldier a few steps away from the first two soldiers. “Actually, forget the two million. How about just a night in—” Shepard’s door opened, and all the soldiers immediately zipped up their mouths and stood to attention. Admiral Hackett walked out.

“At ease,” he grumbled. He frowned at them. “Soldiers, you do know I can see you when you’re goofing off out here, right? Keep doing that, and I’ll tell your chief that he might want to put you all on latrine duty for a month.”

“Um, sir?” the first soldier said, raising her hand. Hackett scowled at her. Her friend pulled her hand down and the soldier started sweating. “Um…that woman over there said she was here to see you?” Hackett turned around and raised his eyebrows. Miranda clasped her hands behind her back, though despite her heels and her posture, she felt incredibly small.

“Yes, I am,” she said, her voice shaking. “I was the one who headed Project Lazarus—”

“—And brought Commander Shepard back after we all presumed her dead. Yes, I know who you are, Operative Lawson,” Hackett said.

“I haven’t been a part of Cerberus since the Normandy was taken by the Alliance,” Miranda said. Hackett had the ball in his court and this was her only chance to put up a decent fight. “The Illusive Man was dangerous and deserved everything that he got. I’m here as a friend to Commander Shepard—”

“Miss Lawson, I know you’re here as more than a friend to Commander Shepard,” Hackett said. He put his hand on his chin and gazed directly into her eyes. Miranda stared back. “You’re here because you want to get involved.”

“I am more than capable of doing so,” Miranda said. “I built Shepard back from nothing, and she saved the bloody galaxy.”

“I know,” Hackett said. “And you’re the only person who knows exactly what kind of tech we’re dealing with. You’re on the team.”

“I’m—what?” Miranda said.

“I don’t believe I stuttered there, Miss Lawson.”

“No, Admiral, I heard you the first time,” Miranda said, feeling her face grow hot. She felt a surge of bile in her throat and she quickly swallowed it down before she embarrassed herself even more. “I’m curious to know as to why you’re so…so willing. I have footage of the surgeries if you want solid proof of my work,” she said, pulling out her omni-tool. Hackett placed his hand on her arm and looked Miranda in her eyes again, much softer than before.

“We’ve already most of it, Miss Lawson. Some of it was left on your terminal on the Normandy, and we were able to pick up other bits and pieces from the raids on Cerberus bases,” Hackett said. “You’re the leader of this project now. Shepard’s been out for a month, and humanity wants to see its hero back. If we could raise the Normandy, we’d use them as a placeholder until Shepard was up and running, but they’ve been off the grid since the Crucible went off.

“So we need Shepard, and the staff here aren’t equipped to bring her back, especially when there’s so many wounded. There’s only one other person that’s performed the impossible, and that’s you. Get in there and wake her up. In exchange, I’ll make sure all of your activities with Cerberus are taken off your record. Troops, let’s head out.” With that, Hackett and his foot-soldiers marched away, leaving Miranda feeling like she did when they recovered Shepard’s body. From behind her, Kasumi and Jack walked up to watch Hackett and the Alliance soldiers leave.

“Well then,” Miranda finally said.

“God, if any of my kids turn out to be that shitty, I’m making them deal with Zaeed,” Jack said. “No, Garrus. Actually, fuck it: both.”

“I thought you met Hackett before this?”

“Yeah, with a group of like sixty other people to get pardoned. Not exactly a heart-to-heart conversation.”

“Did he say when you needed to start? Probably tomorrow, right?” Kasumi said. “Then let’s head back to the bar! You need to celebrate the fact you’ve got a new job now, Miranda!”

“Yeah,” Miranda said. “The most important job in the world. Now, does anyone know if there’s a bin or pizza place nearby? I’m probably going to throw up if we don’t get some of this wine absorbed.”

[ldpwriter]

~*~Pirate Roleplay Character~*~

Name: Katarina “Kat” (She really only responds to Kat) Bloodrose

Nickname: Katy, Katia, Rina (which she hates), Fire-Kat or Wild-Kat, or Red (which she also hates)

Age: If you wanna live don't ask. But she's really about 25, but appears younger.

Gender: The fairer sex; female

Race: Caucasian - British decent

Rank: Pirate also known as an assassin

Family: Father - Jonathon Bloodrose (Pirate Captain)

Mother - Rosemary Bloodrose/Darling (High Class Lady)

Has other family members still alive on her mother's side but doesn't know who they are just that they're family name is, Darling.

Appearance: Lean, curvaceous figure. Appears fragile, but is stronger than most think. Deep green eyes that often show her emotions, with deep red fiery hair, down to the small of her back. Her skin is always tanned because she's on the open ocean and in the sun so much. Both Kat's ears are pierced with small silver hoops. And her right ear has several other piercings which also have either small hoops or jeweled studs. Several scars litter her body, mostly her back and arms. She has a lovely scar from naval to collar bone that almost took her life when she was 21.  Her usual dress is anything black. Normally, however, she wears skin tight pants, a low cut shirt that comes to just above her naval, a black waistcoat, and boots that rise to mid calf. Occasionally though, she'll be found wearing a loose tunic with a corset around her waist. However, when she's hiding her femininity, Kat wears slightly baggier black pants, a loose V cut shirt, with her breasts securely tied, and her black waistcoat and boots. Also, to hide her long fire-red hair, she ties her hair up and wraps it in a bandanna and tops it off with a tri tip black hat. A black belt is almost always secured around her waist to hold her "effects".

The waistcoat, Kat wears mostly.

Face Claim: Katherine McNamara.

Weapons: Her father's cutlass, a pistol, and several knives in her belt, boots, and several other hidden places on her body. She can dual wield swords, or have a cutlass in one hand and a knife in the other.

Captain Bloodrose's cutlass, that Kat now owns and holds dear as one of the last things she has from her father.

Skills: Kat learned how to wield a sword when she was but a child barely learning to walk. She is adept with a cutlass in one hand or both hands. When she has a weapon in both hands she can be a whirlwind, able to defend herself against even the most skillful foe.  She can throw knives with deadly accuracy and can shoot a gun, but prefers it as a last resort. It's too loud in her opinion. Adept at subterfuge, Kat can sneak into many a locked room. Her lockpicking skills are masterful. She is also a skilled assassin, killing foes before anyone knows she's even there.

Talents/Hobbies: Kat can actually sing quite well, but never will do so in public. The attention embarrasses her. She enjoys dancing as well having learned a bit from the old couple, but never has a reason to dance. Kat can read and write to most people's surprise, but her father had made sure she had the knowledge. Kat also collects knives. It was started with her father buying (or stealing) some of the prettiest knives she's ever seen and ever since, she's had a fascination with the quaint bladed weapons.

Weakness: Her temper and sharp tongue often get her into more trouble than what is good. She also has a well placed fear of enclosed spaces. She hates them with a passion and always tries to get out of being sent into small tunnels or entries because she often freezes while in them. Cages, wether behind bars in a prison or in the brig make her panicky. Oddly enough, wearing a dress terrifies her as well. It's like its own bondage and she hates being bound in any form. She fears love as well as dying alone. She is a wild card and hard to handle.

Likes: Pretty things, even though she doesn't really wear much jewelry. Even prettier knives. Children, dogs, singing, dancing, searching for treasure, killing evil people or those she feels deserves it, sailing on the ocean, sweets.

Dislikes: Men, women... okay most men and women. She doesn't get along with people well. Black Jack, the mutinous crew that killed her father, enclosed spaces, dresses, fancy things like balls and people.

Personality: Kat has a fiery temper, a sarcastic tongue, and a suspicious nature, which many would say matches her hair. The woman does not trust people easily. She has a particular hatred for the men who killed her father. She toys with men's hearts every now and then if it helps her get what she wants, but she never lets it go 'too' far. In truth, she really doesn't trust men, since most she had ever run into were liars, deceivers, and backstabbers. She is a loyal friend, however, and a good confidant. Kat also is not one to lay out her problems and when she is hurt or wounded she will not ask for help. She does not want people to find her weak. Which normally means she'll be dying before anyone finds out she's injured, which attests to her very stubborn attitude.

History: The only parent Kat ever knew was her father, who was a pirate. Her mother died giving birth to her in London. Kat's father raised her, on his ship the 'Grim Reaper'. As Kat grew older, her father taught her how to fight in hand to hand combat, sword play, and also fight with daggers/knives. She lived on her fathers ship becoming a pirate herself and grew to know the crew, although she didn't like most of them. The few she did befriend were like family to her and they treated her like a pirate unlike the others who belittled, teased, or flirted with her for being a woman.

One day when Kat was in her mid teens her father docked his ship in a seedy town. Her father figured that his crew as well as himself could use a rest after the pillaging they had just done. Kat and her father frequented the tavern to enjoy some ale and rum, while the crew came up with an evil plan. The evening after they docked, there was a mutiny. The crew killed her father, as well as any loyal to the former captain and took over the ship. The next thing she knew the crew tried to grab her, but fortunately she managed to escape with the help of her father's first mate, the only one left alive from the slaughter. Managing to sneak on land, though the mutinous crew was looking for her, she hid until there was a ship leaving port. Once she managed to stow passage on the ship, dressed like a man, Kat swore revenge on the mutinous crew.

Marcus, her father's former first mate and oldest friend took her away from the crazed, mutinous pirate crew. However, he was gravely wounded. The man took her to a pair of old friends and left her with them. The brother and sister duo were an odd pair. The woman considered herself a witch and knew many odd concoctions. The brother was a former assassin for the French empire. Both taught her how to fight in all new ways, to poison a blade, to blend into the shadows, and murder without being caught. Kat stayed with them for years until the nearby townsfolk got word of the witch in their midst and set forth to burn her. Francois, the brother took her to the nearby port afraid they would think she too was a witch. They disguised her by cutting her hair short and getting her baggy clothes. The Frenchman talked an old pirate captain friend of his to take her under his wing and that she would serve him well as an assassin. With that, the man left and Kat never saw him or his sister again. She never did learn if the two had made it.

For years, Kat kept her identity concealed until the old pirate captain grew sick and died. It was then time for the young woman to find her own way in the world. She let her hair start to grow once more and came across another brother and sister duo. They invited her to be a part of their crew, wishing to utilize Kat's skills for their gain. It wasn't until the brother, in a drunk stupor, tried to take advantage of her. Kat killed him in defense. The sister became enraged and attacked Kat. To the fiery haired woman's surprise, the ebony haired sister was far deadlier. The other woman managed to cut Kat from naval to collar bone. With such a dire wound, Kat threw herself off the ship grateful they had been near a French owned island. Somehow she managed to make it to shore, but passed out after. A kind elderly couple and their children found her washed up on shore and took her in. They nurtured her back to health.

When she was better, in the dead of the night, Kat snuck out. Leaving only a note and a few gold coins for their kindness, the fiery haired woman disappeared into the night. After that, Kat kept to the shadows mostly. Joining few crews and disappearing after a heist. Many referred to her as the Ghost of Shadows. Occasionally she would seek out higher paid quarries, using her assassin's skills to kill. It paid remarkably better than plundering as a pirate. As time slid by, Kat wandered from town to town, port to port listening for word of Black Jack and the Grim Reaper. But the ship had all but vanished, few going as far to say the vessel had sunk beneath the ocean's waves. It was disappointing and damn near heartbreaking for her.

One evening, Kat sat in a tavern in Tortuga. Alone in the back when someone approached her. The man said he would pay her in gold and information on the Grim Reaper's whereabouts if she did a job for him. It was the first news of her father's ship she had heard about in quite some time. Katarina readily agreed, not even caring who she was to assassinate. With that, Kat gathered her things and found the first passage she could and headed straight for her prey.

Her father's ship, the Grim Reaper

[alexandrablake]

la jolla

Prompt: “if i asked you to stay, would you?” from this prompt list! Pairing: ambiguous!Hotchniss (could be interpreted either way) Word Count: 1,620 Warnings: I don’t think there are any. A/n: we never did get to see that date. read on ao3.

      “Want to get coffee?”

It was the Monday morning after JJ’s wedding. The team, bar one member, was still buzzing with the joy of the party and the union. Everyone except one- Emily Prentiss.

Emily had been sulking at her desk for the whole day, flipping her phone between her fingers absentmindedly. There was a stack of paperwork that she had yet to touch, only collecting dust, and a cup of coffee cooled, no signature lip print present on the rim.

“Prentiss,” Hotch asked again.

She looked up with a smile that didn’t quite reach her empty eyes. “I didn’t hear you, sorry.”

 “Want to get coffee?”

The olive branch he was extending wasn’t just that of caffeine. He could clearly see the cup untouched. It was an invitation to talk, to vent, to take up on the plan from the days prior. She took it, smiling gratefully, some sort of life lighting her eyes for the first time in two days.

“That sounds great, actually.”

They went to a mom-and-pop coffee shop down the road from their office. It was cute, decorated with fairy lights and crude children’s drawings. It was empty except for the two of them and an elderly couple tucked away in a booth in the corner.

Two steaming cups of liquid were placed in front of them by the owner, a kind looking woman with smile lines etched into her face. She looked wise beyond her years, like the type of person that made you want to return countless times to hear the stories of her life.

Hotch nodded his thanks to her and watched her walk away with a gentle smile. When the woman was successfully out of ear shot, he turned to Emily with ever so slightly furrowed eyebrows. 

“You never order tea.”

It wasn’t a question. Prentiss didn’t meet his eyes, staring down at her cup as she swirled the tea with the metal spoon given to her. 

“Wanted to try something different,” she shrugged, finally looking up at him with sunken in eyes.

“When was the last time you slept?” He sounded the same as he normally does when surveying the wellbeing of his team members, but this time there was a subtle softness that normally wasn’t there.

Emily rubbed the bridge of her nose, peering at him from under her fingers. “Ummmm… before the robbery was the last time I really remember.”

Four days. The implications of that hung in the air between the two of them. The other pair in the cafe meandered out, arm in arm. Now, it was just them. Hotch raised his eyebrows and took a drink from his cup.

“Bad day?” he asked, bringing them back to that conversation in Rossi’s foyet.

“Bad year,” was the curt affirmation.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked, echoing the sentiment from that same conversation.

She nodded wordlessly and pulled her phone out from her pocket. There were quiet beeps that filled the silence as she punched in some sort of message, before holding the screen out to him. He shot her a hesitant look, and she shook it a little. 

“Take it, Hotch. I don’t think I’d be able get through the whole thing without having a breakdown.”

The breakdown that she’d been pushing off for far too long, but she didn’t say that.

The phone was dropped into his hand, and he licked his lips a little before reading it out. 

“Emily, I’m eagerly awaiting your response. The field office management sent me your files today. Again. It’s not just me who wants you here, it’s everyone. I know you probably don’t want to leave that team, but you’re meant for so much better things. That better thing is being the Head of the London Field office. I need an answer fast, and I really would like the favor of Lady X repaid. -Easter.”

In all of Emily’s life, she hadn’t truly experienced the phrase “silence is deafening.” Of course, she’d been in suffocating silence, that’s just something you signed up for when you work in what they do.

But the silence between the two of them that followed the reading of that message- that was deafening. 

The bell hanging at the door clanged as a group of young girls walked in, chattering lively. Emily tore her eyes away from Hotch’s to watch them. They were an eclectic group, dressing in every color of the rainbow, in various styles. No two girls looked the same. 

Her eyes were especially drawn to the girl in the back. She was the only one dressed in dark colors and, despite the pleasant weather of spring, was swathed in a winter coat. While all her compatriots were smiling, her face was blank, wiped of all emotion.

Prentiss saw herself in the girl. She was surrounded by enthusiastic, settled, happy people, while being none of those things.

Aaron cleared his throat, bringing Emily’s attention back to him, and held the phone back out. As she slipped it into her bag, he began drumming his fingers on the table.

“Why?” he asked, his quiet voice barely heard over the new customers.

“Nothing is the same, you know,” she tried to justify. “You guys are different people. You act like you welcomed me back with open arms, but it’s not how it used to be. I just knew I wouldn’t be able to settle into my old life. I needed… change. Well, I guess you wouldn’t know. You’ve never died.”

Hotch was studying her face intently, almost as if he was trying to memorize it. “After Haley died, the Bureau offered me retirement.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I know. The only people I told were Jessica and Rossi. But I seriously considered it. I didn’t want to leave Jack alone; he’d just lost his mom, I didn’t want to be absent from his life, too.”

Emily had a pensive look on her face. “Why didn’t you take it?” “I realized that, as much as I wanted change, it would be worse for me. That’s why I stayed in that apartment after he attacked me, that’s why I kept working here. I knew that I would go insane with that much change,” Hotch explained. Swishing the coffee in his cup lightly before taking a drink, he rubbed his stomach, the ghosts of old wounds coming back to haunt him.

“Yeah, I don’t think that will work for me.”

One side of his mouth lifted, and he simply said, “I know.”

“I love you guys, and I love this job, I just don’t love… me.”

“It’s hard to come back from something like that.”

Emily leaned her head to the side. “Don’t sound so understanding about this, Hotch! You were supposed to try to get me to stay.”

“If I asked you to stay, would you?”

“No,” she said slowly, coming to a realization of her own. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Exactly. Drink the tea, you need the caffeine. You look dead on your feet.”

She took a large swig at the request. Her brown eyes were wistful as they fell back to the now seated group of girls. The girl had fallen into her stride, as she was now animatedly telling a story to the rest of her party. Emily smiled, glad that at least one of them found themselves.

“I do want you to stay, for what it’s worth.” Hotch’s voice was rough, and he cleared it again. “You’re a part of this team, and I wouldn’t rather have anyone else by my side.”

“Aw, thanks, Hotch.”

Hotch wasn’t done. “But I know that trying to stop Emily Prentiss when she wants to do something is a meaningless quest. You’re going to do wonderfully.”

Emily smiled, a real one now. The weight of desperation had been lifted off her chest, and it felt like, for the first time since before she started going after Doyle, she could breathe properly again.

“Do you know when you start?”

Emily shook her head. “I haven’t told him yet. But by the way he talked when he asked me Friday, I’d expect it to be ASAP.”

Hotch’s smile had melancholy painted over it, like lipstick applied incorrectly. “Does anyone on the team know?”

“Morgan knows I’m thinking about it, but he doesn’t know I’ll accept the offer. And I have absolutely no idea how to break the news to any of them.”

“Do you want me to do it with you?”

Emily’s eyes shined adoringly at him, reflecting the twinkling decorations of the shop. “I love you for offering, but no. This is my decision, and I have to face the music and tell them.”

The cafe was starting to get busy now, more customers filing in, filling the walls with the sounds of joy and caffeine. Hotch leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest as he eyed Emily’s still hands resting on the table.

“You’re happy. This is something you’ve thought about for a long time,” he mused.

Prentiss agreed, “Since I came back.”

“A year’s a long time for you to feel like you don’t belong. Why didn’t you tell us?”

She bit her lip and echoed her statement to Morgan nights prior. “I thought it was just the trauma. I thought if I bought a house and planted roots, I’d be able to fix me. And we have such a mobile job, I don’t know. I thought I could do it again.”

Hotch, in a rare moment of physical affection, held his hand out for her to grab. Their fingers intertwined in the middle of the table. 

“It’s okay. I understand. Just...promise to call and stay in touch.”

“Without a doubt.”

[sincerlypadfoot]

Love You With Your Hair Down

Word Count - 2547

The smell of the muggle bar didn't faze my nose this time, the smell of cheap perfume, sweat, the sound of laughter and glasses smashing onto the table didn't bother me. "One shot of whisky please," I asked the bartender who stood infront of me as I took my regular seat at the bar. "Take this, you'll need it," I muttered sliding my muggle credit card across the table we were separated by. "Bad day?" Cheyenne asked,  she had become the one I go too, and the one who doesn't tell me to stop drinking. "Here's your shots." She said sliding four shot glasses my way. "Just the regular day in my life you know," I said to her picking up one of the shots and downing it. "Actually a regular day in my life would be hanging out with these stupid friends of mine but I haven't seen them in," I pauses thinking of the year. "five years," I said to Cheyenne who sat down across from me. "You got me, your here almost ever night, I don't know anything about you, and your one of my regulars," She said smiling and pouring herself a shot. "So spill it, who are you?" She asked.

"After I graduated school I dropped every friend I knew, stopped talking to them and just ran away and started a new life, and now i'm here with you" I said to her smiling and downing another shot, drowning the pain and wanting to forget. "So you dropped your friends why?" She asked leaning back in her chair interested in the story. "Whats your name?" She added. "y/n y/l/n," I said picking up a shot.  "School was good and those people we're my best friends, but a bad person almost killed my friends over me, so I left after graduation, haven't talk to anyone since," I said to Cheyenne reliving the moments from Hogwarts in that second. "Why don't you come stay over at my house tonight, my shift ends in a hour, and I have a couple girls coming over for girls night, you can join us," Cheyenne suggested refilling the shots infront of me. "You know, I would love that," I said as we both picked up a shot and cheers each other with a laugh after the shot. I watched as Cheyenne cleaned her class and walked away with a smile fixing some people up some drinks. "Could I buy you a drink?" A man said sliding into the seat beside me, I looked over at him almost throwing up but holding it back. "Sure, vodka ice," I said to him taking my last shot, starting to feel the effect of the whisky in my body, eight shots made it due. "Whats your name?" I asked him as he called a different bartender over. "Brandon West, what about you sweetheart?" He asked turning his chair and facing me., but my focus wasn't on him anymore, it was on Cheyenne and the thing she had in her hand under the counter, a wand. "I think I have to go,"  I said to Brandon getting out of my chair almost falling but caught myself on the table freaking out a bit. "No," I whispered to myself shaking my head and rubbing my eyes, she still had the wand in her hand, mixing my drink. "Let me take you home," Brandon said putting his hand out with a gental smile  on his face. "Come on sweetheart," He said grabbing my hand before I could reply to his first request. "No," I said tugging my hand back but my hand didn't move and the room spun around me. "Let me go," I whimpered, not able to screen or yell, Cheyenne was out of my vision. "She said no buddy,"  A familiar voice said, had I had idea if it was in my head or around me. Brandon let go of my hand and walked out of the bar faster then my vision could handle. "I thought you were dead," James Potter, the man I had been in love with for years said standing infront of me, five years not seeing his face and nothing had changed. "What?" I said looking at my hand, waves moved across my hand. "I think something was in my drink," I whispered feeling light headed and closing my eyes. ~ "Sirius Black give me back my shoes!" I shouted running through Hogwarts laughing out of breath chasing Sirius as he ran infront of me waving my shoes in the air. "All you gotta say is that you like me more then James," Sirius shouted stopping in a holt and turning around to face me. "I'm way better then him," He said smirking. "Fine, Sirius Black, you are better then James Potter and I like you more," I complied rolling my eyes, not a second later I was lifted up in the air and on James' shoulders. "Put me down," I demented looking down at him. "I can't believe you said you like Sirius more then you like me,  your boyfriend," James said spinning around making me grip onto his face with my hands. "Okay okay okay," I screamed laughing, everything around my was blurred but the black robes teacher coming towards us. "Mr. Potter you put y/n down now," McGonagall demanded standing infront of the three of us. "That is no way to treat a lady," She said as James stopped spinning and bent down to let me off. "You tell them Minnie,"  I said tumbling off of James' shoulders and putting my hand on the wall. “No way to treat a woman,” I repeated smiling at McGonagall.

“Potter I expect if you wanna keep that girl treat her well, she’s a good one,” McGonagall said to James whose face turned red then she looked over at Sirius. “And you Mr. Black, stop putting gum under my tables please,” McGonagall said pivoting her foot and walking away, we all knew she walked away with a smile.

~

My eyes opened in a panic, I looked around not knowing where I was, the room was lit up with natural light, curtains wide open, I was dressed in a long shirt and my shorts I was wearing. “Where am I?” I whispered looking more around the room, no one was beside me but on the table beside the bed,my phone, wallet and  a glass of water and pills laid there with a note.

“Take this and go get something to eat - James,” I had no idea what was happening, the only thing I remembered was walking into the bar then seeing James face. I took the pills that were laid out on the table and drowned the water down. “Better now then never,” I whispered to myself getting out of the bed and walking out of the room.

“Sirius would you stop touching my food, go get your own,” Remus’ voice echoed in the house I was in, my heart started beating fast. “SIRIUS!” He yelled again making me jump hearing Sirius laugh. 

“Hello?” I said turning the corner where the voice’s were coming from, SIrius and Remus looked over at me, both turning white as a ghost. “Long time no see,” I said awkwardly smiling at the two boys who stopped talking and just looked at me.

“Oh god,” Sirius said running out of his chair and hugging me. “Where have you been, I thought you were dead y/n, you just left after graduate,” He said now crying, Remus walked over and hugged me from the other side.

“We thought voldemort killed you after what happened, James griefed for years, how did you get here?” Remus asked kissing the side of my head.

“I brought her here, found her drunk in a bar about to be drugged by another wizard,” James said entering the room, he looked different then when I saw him a the bar last night, his hair was shorter, and he was a bit taller but he had the same. “Come sit down, tell us what happened,” James said pulling the two boys off of me.

“It’s not much,” I said to him pulling a chair out and sitting down. “I moved to the muggle world, removed magic from my mind and started a new life, a life where none of my friends could die over me,” I shrugged taking a drink of Sirius’ coffee.

“We could protect ourselves y/n, you shouldn't have left like that, just left us a note on your door and your stuff gone, we thought you were dead!” James cried out banging his fists on the table.

“Yeah and if I didn't leave you would all be dead including me, I left for our own good and I think i’m going to go back home if you don’t mind,” I said to James standing up and walking away, up to the room that I woke up in. “Stupid,” I mumbled grabbing my stuff and shoving them in my pocket.

“You're still the same person I was in love with sixteen years ago, the stubborn girl who loved to laugh and have a good time,” James said behind me.

“Where are we, I need to get home,” I said turning around to him. “Or take me home but I don’t use magic anymore,” I offered.

“There's a train station not far from here, just a couple blocks,” He said pausing. “Why don’t you stay a bit, tell us what you’ve been doing, we need to talk about that wizard last night, do you remember?” He asked me.

Cheyenne, it had came back to me that moment, watching her mix my drink with her wand, putting a spell in it, that was what made me siral out of control. “It’s not a big deal, I can protect myself, i’ll see you around James,” I said to him walking right passed down stairs. “Sirius, Remus,” I said standing at the entrance of the kitchen.

“Don’t tell me your going home,” Remus said sounded disappointed. “Please stay,” He asked, Sirius just looked at me, upset.

“I have too, i’ll see you guys around,” I said letting out a small smile and turning around to leave. Something in me told me to stay but I knew it was the wrong thing, and I missed my bed.

Hours and hours went by and I was back home, laying in my bed eating ice cream and watching a muggle movie, which was pretty interesting considering the five years i’ve been here its pretty cool just to sit in bed and watch t.v all day with a bucket of ice cream. 

The sound of birds chirping diseared me from my movie, I got out from my blankets and walked to my door not taking a guess who was there.

“Nice house,” James said standing in the porch of my house looking around. “Can we talk?” He asked dressed differently then how I had seen him last night.

“Sure,” I said uninteresting in having a conversation right now. “But I was watching a movie so,” I added opening my door to let him in. 

“Nice house,” He said shocked and looking around. “You’ll have to show me all this muggle stuff you learned because everything looks so cool,” James said looking into my living room.

“Sit down and let’s talk,” I said cutting right to the chase. “Over here,” I said to him leading him to my living room. We both sat down, just feet away from each other.

“What have you been doing?” James asked fidgeting with his fingers, like the hold him, having a serious conversation he would have to always fidget with something, whatever was closest to him.

“I bought a house with the money my parents left me in there will, moved to a nice neighborhood and kept to myself, what have you been doing?” I asked him like nothing was wrong but I knew something was wrong.

“Well the first year after hogwarts we looked for you, went through every town, asked people and no one knew where you went, Minnie even tried helping but it was hopeless, then we all moved in together and I griefed herring voldemort was out there, and I thought he had killed you,” James said as his eyes got glossy.

“I left because I couldn't bear getting one of you killed because of a stupid choice I made that year, choosing to just leave and get everyone to believe I was dead was the only way I wanted things to go,” I said back to him holding back my tears.

“Please don’t leave again,” He said as a single tear went down his face. “I can’t lose you again,” He said grabbing my hand. 

“James,” I symphonized moving a bit closer to him and putting my hand on his face, watching the single tear turn into multiple tears. “okay,” I said feeling my own tears go down my face as I wrapped my arms around him crying. “I missed you so much,” I cried into his shoulder.

“Don’t ever leave me again,” James whispered wrapping his arms tightly around me pulling on the top of him. We stayed in that position for a couple minutes.

“You guys can move here if you want, this place is way to big for me,” I whispered not losing my grip. “I could use some company and you guys can be introduced to the muggle stuff,” I said laughing a bit.

“Hey,” James said letting me go so I could look at him. “I love you,” He said leaning in to connect our lips together, just like the first time we kissed it was like two magnets attracting.

“Bedroom,” I whispered in between our kiss, James picked me up off his lap making me let out a bit of a laugh. “Just up the stairs,” I pointing leading him to my room.

“Just like old times huh,” James said lightly tossing me on my bed, my ice cream still sitting on my cloth table mat. 

“Just like old times,” I said pulling his shirt so he would lean over me. “The good days,” I smirked slipping my hands under his shirt and taking it off, ending the night off with both of us naked under my soft blankets feeling good and hot.

“James?” I asked laying on his bare chest. “Do you think Sirius hates me, he couldn't even look at me when I said goodbye,” I asked feeling bad.

“He doesn't hate you, he was your best friend since meeting you on the train, he cried the whole year we went looking for you, searching around and almost dying himself, you were his person,” James explained to me making me feel a bit bad.

“I’ll talk to him when I ask him to move in here, he was my best friend too, saved my life more times than I could count,” I said chuckling a bit.

“Enough sad talk, teach me how this t.v works,” James said sitting me up and smiling at me. “I’ve never heard about it,” He said excitedly as I reached over him and grabbed the remote excited to show him everything.

[elysianrey]

 let me take your coat (and this weight off your shoulders)

He first notices her after his Thursday afternoon therapy session with Dr. Raynor. 

His brain begins to automatically profile her as it does with most people he interacts with these days. Short. At least 5’3”. Petite frame. Shoulder length, brown hair. Soft features. Brown eyes. Mid 30s. Jittery legs. Twisting fingers.

Old habits die hard, he supposes. 

She’s sitting in the waiting area of the mental health facility, eyes briefly meeting as his footsteps fall past her chair on his way out of the office. 

She looks familiar. 

Her eyes echo the same sentiment of recognition, which causes an uneasy feeling to creep into the pit of his stomach. His fingers tighten around the small leather notebook in his jacket pocket. The moment is broken as he shifts his attention back to the polished flooring. 

His gloved hand pushes the door open, leaving the brunette woman alone. 

+

 He spends the evening rifling through the pages of his notebook. His mind shuffles through the faces like an old film roll. Then he hits replay after his initial check. 

 Again. 

 Again. 

 Again. 

 He combs his fingers through his hair as he leans against the wall of his apartment. He lets out a small sigh of relief. 

 No connections to her are in the book. 

 +

 It becomes a habit for him every Thursday.

 Leave Dr. Raynor’s office. Walk through the lobby. Make eye contact with the brunette woman, whom he still can’t seem to place. Consider acknowledging her with a grin. Decide against it. Look down at the ground. Leave the facility. 

 He realizes he’s capable of acting more- human? Normal? Like an actual functioning adult in the twenty-first century. Dr. Raynor kindly reminds him of it every session, and yet, the creeping feeling of self-doubt never fails to get the better of him. 

 Yesterday. 

 Today. 

 And probably tomorrow. 

 +

 She’s not in the waiting area the following Thursday. 

 His feet pick up their pace to exit the facility that day, seeing as he has no real reason to take his time. His chest twinges in disappointment, despite having no good reason to. He doesn’t even know her name. In fact, the only real thing he knows about her is that she meets with a therapist on Thursday afternoons. Like him. 

 Which meant she was working through some stuff. Like him. 

 As he approaches the door, his eyes focused on the ground, the force of a body slamming into him nearly knocks him on his ass. His hands instinctively rise to steady the person apparently in a rush today. Then his breath catches upon realizing who is standing between his outstretched arms. 

 Her eyes are red-rimmed, cheeks puffy, and when she lifts her head to apologize, she suddenly begins to aggressively wipe away the tears streaming down her cheeks. Embarrassment mixing with the despair she is clearly experiencing. 

 He stammers. “I—are you ok—?”

 Before he can finish his question, she pulls back and cuts him off. “I’m so sorry—I really have to—“ 

 She stumbles around him and disappears past the receptionist and down the hall without another word, leaving him feeling confused and concerned all at the same time. 

 +

 He spends the next week worrying about her. 

 It’s better than worrying about his own demons. 

 Strangely, it gives his brain a small sense of relief.

 +

 Dr. Raynor has to reschedule for Friday. 

 He leaves flowers at the receptionist desk and tells them they’re for the brunette woman who comes in at 3. 

 He hopes she gets them. 

 +

 She’s approaching him before he has the chance to register her appearance in the lobby. Her small, yet self-assured frame blocks his exit to the double doors. She’s speaking and he immediately picks up that she uses her hands to get her point across. 

 “Hi. I just want to apologize for what happened a couple weeks ago. I hope I didn’t cause too much damage to—,” her right hand does a sweeping motion across his chest. “Anyway... my name is Jane. Jane Foster.” The woman extends her hand, eyes finally meeting his directly. 

 She’s nervous. Hesitant. 

 He takes it in his gloved, vibranium hand and gives it a gentle shake. “James. And don’t worry about it.” She smiles and he returns the effort out of politeness. 

 She drops his hand and brushes a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “Well, it was nice to meet you James. I better head—“ She finishes her sentence by pointing in the opposite direction, toward the hallway of therapist offices. 

 He gives her a nod, stepping out of her way. Jane starts past him and before she can get too far, the words slip out of his mouth. 

 “Would you want to maybe grab a drink sometime?” James can’t help but inwardly cringe at the awkward bluntness in the question, however there’s no going back now. 

 Jane turns and bites down on her lower lip. “Yeah,” she replies. “Yeah that would be nice.”

 +

 James sits on his makeshift bed in his apartment living room, scrolling through the contacts on his phone list. Sam. Shuri. Dr. Raynor. Clint. His apartment manager. 

 And now Jane Foster. 

 Dr. Raynor wasn’t kidding when she chastised him for only having ten contacts. At least he had added one name to his list. 

 They were meeting tonight at 8 pm. She suggested a small, trendy downtown bar that had a bizarre name he couldn’t prounounce. He wonders if this date was going to be like all the others. 

 Fake. Stiff. Unbearable. 

 A small part of him tries to insist that Jane is different. Sure, he can’t logically reason how he knows this, yet he can’t shake the feeling she is different in some way to the other women he’s met since his return. 

 +

 He’s right. 

 She’s unlike anyone woman he’s ever met in the twenty-first century. 

 It’s not hard to get Jane talking about herself, and once he does, he spends nearly the rest of the evening listening to her talk about her work with space. 

 He learns she’s an astrophysicist and she’s in New York working at the Simons Foundation. She disappeared during The Blip too and now she’s trying to make up for the 5 years she lost. Jane’s passion for learning more about the universe captivates him. She shares some of the theories she has about other universes that may exist and he’s left in awe as she paints pictures into his mind of periwinkle planets, alien lifeforms, and methods of possibly meeting them. 

 She doesn’t get the chance to ask him many questions, which is a relief.

 Her laughter is light, the alcohol clearly easing the weight of the world that she wears like a prisoner around her shoulders. He doesn’t know what she was like before whatever shit got to her, but he enjoys seeing Jane this way. Carefree. 

 He asks if he can see her again. 

 She says yes. 

 +

 She texts him about an upcoming Celestial event. A telescope will allow you to see Saturn’s rings and moons all night if the sky is clear. 

 He buys a telescope and sets it up on the roof of his apartment building and spends hours watching Saturn from his point on Earth. It makes him feel like a small speck in comparison to everything beyond this planet. He wants to find out more of what this life has to offer before it’s too late and it reminds him of his effort of making amends for his past sins. 

 Clearly he still has a lot of work to do. 

 +

 She admits that she did some digging and she knows who he really is on their third date. He supposes he’s not too surprised at her inquisitiveness, but her declaration suddenly makes him feel entirely exposed and vulnerable. 

 They’re sitting in the corner of a quiet coffee shop and James eyes the nearest exit because his chest is contracting and the air is not meeting his lungs like it should. His heart hammers in his chest as hard as his metal fist did against the cryogenic cage Hyrda imprisoned him in time and time again. 

 “I have a friend who is pretty skilled at finding out about people,” she continues lowly, toying at the ceramic coffee cup. “I just—didn’t feel right lying to you about it. You looked familiar when I saw you in Dr. Raynor’s office that first day.”

 He tries to relax the muscles in his neck and shoulders. “No, I understand. So I guess you know I’m pretty messed up then?” He had never personally seen his own file, however it wasn’t hard to imagine what it contained. 

 Jane let out a breathy laugh, as if she couldn’t quite believe what he said. “Aren’t we all, James?”

 +

 The weather is nice enough to start meeting in Central Park and they begin taking strolls around the park during her lunch breaks every day. They play a game where he gets to ask her a question about her past and then she gets to ask him a question about his past and they have to answer honestly. Maybe it’s reminiscent of his meetings with Dr. Raynor, yet James is willing to open up because Jane is too, and he recognizes it’s not easy for either of them. 

 Sometimes they only get through one question, the memories being too painful, and in those moments, their fingers tentatively find the others. It’s reassuring, this insignificant brush of skin against glove, and James suddenly wishes he wasn’t wearing the gloves. It’s been too long since he’s felt the touch of another against his bare skin. 

 He decides to take the right one off when he’s with her. James makes sure he’s standing on her left side for their walks and his heart flips in his chest when she unexpectedly intertwines her fingers with his. She gives him a squeeze and he returns it, an actual smile ghosting the corners of his lips.

 Maybe his eyes are playing tricks on him or maybe it’s just the sun, but he swears he sees a faint blush creeping up her fair cheeks.

 +

 She invites him over to the apartment the foundation is paying rent for after her therapy session. Jane insists that she is more than capable of making something for the both of them that tops the usual take out they have a habit of settling for when they hang out together. So he can’t help but let out a chuckle and a teasing comment when he walks into a smoking kitchen and the fire alarm beeping wildly while a flustered Jane is scrambling to turn off the oven where a blackened chicken resides. 

 They end up ordering their usual take out.

 At the end of their sushi dinner, Jane sets her empty container on the coffee table in front of them and leans back into the armchair, tucking her feet beneath her. She’s oddly quiet and he stares from his spot across on the couch. Her brown eyes gaze distantly out the wall-length windows, her brilliant brain lost in thought. 

 He doesn’t mind the silence, of course, yet he feels a tug to pull her back from wherever she’s gone off to. “Do you ever dance?”

 Her lips curve upward. “Only if you count when I’m by myself and I have the radio blaring.” 

 James smiles at the mental image of a goofy Jane, throwing her arms and legs about in no particular rhythm. “Back in the 40s, I was known around the town for my swing dancing moves,” he informs her casually with a cock of his eyebrow. 

 She laughs, shooting him a mock expression of awe. “James Buchanan Barnes, I had no idea you were such a man of many talents.” 

 He nonchalantly shrugs and then practically bounces off the couch, extending his concealed, left hand to her. “It’s time you learn a move or two today, Ms. Foster.” 

 They rearrange some of Jane’s furniture around to make an adequate amount of space that won’t end in destruction. He begins by teaching her the basic steps, leading her slowly through each one until she insists she’s ready to go on to the next. He finds it ironic that out of all the damage Hydra did to his brain, he can still remember one of his favorite weekend activities from when he was a young man. Well, he’s still pretty young compared to his friends who were with him at the time. 

 If he’s being honest, Jane was born with two left feet, but she is determined to try regardless of her uncoordinated legs. By the end of the night, he gives her the name of a song to play on her Bluetooth speakers and they’re dancing away, Jane doing her best to keep up with the beat and James laughing every time she steps on his feet again. 

 He’s convinced he could stay in this moment forever. 

 +

 She surprises him by taking them to a jazz and swing dance club. 

 He swears he’s in love with her by the end of the evening. 

 He kisses her for the first time when they’re standing on the doorstep of her apartment. 

 +

 James is leaving Dr. Raynor’s office, ready to get as far away as possible from the head spinning forest wallpaper he’s stuck in front of every session when her words stop him in his tracks. 

 “You’re helping her, you know.” 

 He’s never said her name when they discuss her in his sessions. He assumed Jane saw Dr. Raynor too, seeing as she was connected to the superhero world, yet she’s never told him and he’s never asked. 

 He looks over his shoulder at the older woman, his hand still on the doorknob. “Actually, I think it’s the other way around.”

 +

 He has not made love to someone since before he was drafted into the war so when an evening of drinking and card games turns into take off one article of clothing every time you lose a game, James begins to sweat. He has a feeling he knows where this is leading when she’s seated on top of him, clad in only her undergarments, her hips grinding into his mercilessly. 

 It turns out she’s not a very good card player. 

 His mouth is connected to her neck, breathing a trail of wet kisses up to her ear where he bites down softly on the tip of her earlobe and she lets out a tiny whimper that nearly ends him then and there. 

 Her hands wander under the hem of his long-sleeved shirt and he freezes when she starts to tug the material upward. She senses his apparent discomfort and stops, looking down at him. 

 She’s picked up on the fact that he’s sensitive about the metal arm. “Sorry,” she whispers. “If you don’t want to take it off that’s—“

 He knows he’s ready. He knows it’s time to stop living in fear about what others will think of the hideous seam binding the vibranium to flesh. “No, I do. Just give me a second.”

 He sits up and she shifts off of him, unsure of his next move. It takes her by surprise when he sweeps her off the ground in a single motion, carrying her to the bedroom and placing her carefully on the mattress. His hands go to either side of the hem of his shirt and he tugs it off, standing bare chested before her, his silver dog tags resting against the rise and fall of his heavy breathing. 

 She stares, drinking him all in. The defined muscle. The trail of dark hair leading below the waistband of his underwear. The scars from years of battling ‘the enemy.’ Then finally, his metal arm, the leather glove still secure on his left hand. Jane rises to her knees, taking both of his hands and tugging him closer to which he does not oblige. 

 He wants her desperately. Wants to put his mouth all over her. Wants to hear her say his name. Wants to feel every inch of her on his skin. 

 “May I?” she asks, glancing down, fingers ghosting his skin. He nods and suddenly she’s running her fingers over his chest and her fingers sear, burning him, making him feel more alive than he’s felt in the past 80 years. 

 He allows her to touch every inch of him, noting how she studies the outer workings of his arm in true Jane-fashion, and when she decides to replace her fingers with her lips instead upon reaching the seam of his shoulder and arm, he lets out a moan. James is certain this woman will be the end of him. 

 He loses himself in her in more than one way that night. When she takes him, he begs her to call him ‘Bucky’ because he’s tired of acting like the name of a man he never had been in the first place. 

 He falls asleep that night to the memory of her voice whimpering ‘Bucky,’ ‘Bucky,’ ‘Bucky’ as if it were a prayer on her lips. 

 There are no nightmares. 

 +

 Dr. Raynor comments on his unusual openness at their next session. 

 She doesn’t even have to threaten him with the notebook that day. 

 +

 “Vulnerability is the essence of connection and connection is the essence of existence.” - Leo Christopher 

 +

 Longing. 

Rusted. 

Seventeen.

Daybreak. 

Furnace. 

Nine.

Benign. 

Homecoming.

One. 

Freight car. 

 The string of phrases are weaving their way into his skull and he’s trapped. There’s no escape from their cruel entrapment. He must obey. He was engineered to carry out the missions. No, he doesn’t want to obey. Fight back. Fighting makes it worse. Fighting means pain until he can fight no longer. 

 Obey. Must obey. The mission. See that it’s carried out to completion. No witnesses. No survivors.

 Bucky jolts awake in her bed, beads of sweat pooling across his brow. He’s gasping for breath and everything that’s touching him only makes his heart beat faster. He yanks the blankets off of him and sinks down against the wall facing the bed, trying to take in his surroundings and focus on what’s real. Hydra can no longer control him. He is no longer their puppet. 

 He pulls on the dog tags around his neck, using them as something to stabilize his unstable mind. His eyes slide open and he sees her sitting up in bed, watching him silently, her brow twisted in concern. 

 “Just a bad dream,” he comments quietly, inhaling through his nose, pausing, and exhaling through his mouth. 

 She remains unmoving for a moment. 

 “I get them too. Sometimes it feels like the aether is still inside me. Controlling my mind. Forcing me to bend to its wishes.” He’s only heard bits and pieces of her time on Asgard, Thor and Loki’s home planet. It’s still strange to think about the life that exists beyond Earth. 

 He wants to tell her more about Hydra, but he doesn’t. 

 “Think I’m going to stay down here for a little longer. Is it weird that I find the floor softer than the bed?” 

 “We all have our ways of coping,” she muses with a half smile. 

 He wonders what hers happen to be. 

 +

 They spend many nights together watching the starry sky from his apartment rooftop. Jane sits between his arms, pointing out the major constellations, sharing ancient stories of how they got their names. 

 Bucky listens to her words, her voice, drift through the close space they occupy. His eyes grow heavy with tiredness, his chin resting on the crown of her head. 

 He could listen to her talk about space until the end of time. 

 +

 “Are you ever going to answer him?” Jane inquires casually, settling down beside him on the couch. She grabs a blanket and tosses it over their legs. 

 She doesn’t have to say his name to know whose she’s referring to. His name appears on his phone screen nearly every day. “Maybe,” he responds indifferently. 

 Jane gives him a look that tells him she’s not going to let this one go. “He’s clearly worried about you. How hard would it be just to update him about how things are going?”

 He wants to answer with ‘nearly impossible,’ however he has a feeling she won’t drop it if he lets the words slip.

 “Just think about it, okay?” Jane must have picked up on the fact it was going to be a losing battle. 

 He nods. 

 +

 “You sent the flowers that day in the office, didn’t you?” Her breath catches sharply when he bites down on her inner thigh, then immediately tends to the bite with his lips, moving them closer and closer to his objective. 

 “Yes,” he reveals, that day in the office, far from what he’s currently fixated on. She whimpers his name once he finds his source. 

 +

 He can’t remember the last name he’s felt this angry. Bucky paces back and forth in his apartment, trying to calm down, trying to think rationally. 

 She’s leaving. 

 She’s going back to London. 

 Her work in New York was only temporary and she has no choice but to go home to continue her research with her colleagues. 

 The time he assumed they had left together has vanished. She promises they will keep in touch. She’s only a phone call away. 

 It’s not the same though. 

 It’s not the same.

 +

 “You’ve helped, you know,” she murmurs, nestled cozily in his arms. Her fingers play with his dog tags while he stares at shadows on her ceiling bedroom, trying with all his might to will her to stay if he just never lets her out of his grasp. 

 His eyebrows knit together. “Helped create more problems in your life?” he teases and she retaliates by giving the dog tags a tug. 

 “When I came back to New York, all I wanted was to be able to talk to someone about the shit life has thrown at me. That’s part of the reason I started seeing Dr. Raynor,” she admits, nuzzling deeper into his hold. “You listened and you cared, Bucky. I don’t know what I’m going to do in London without someone who actually gets it.”

 He wonders the same thing. 

 +

 On the day she leaves, he finally decides to text Sam back. 

 She was right. 

 Sam was worried about him. 

 He chooses honesty over the typical response of ‘I’m fine’ for once. 

 I’ve had better days, he writes. He’ll tell Sam more about it when they see each other again. 

 +

 It’s a Thursday afternoon when he sees him sitting in the chair next to her old spot. 

 He’s about his height (Bucky’s taller, of course). Black hair, cut close to his head. Brown eyes. And a smug smile that makes him want to punch it right off his face with his metal fist. 

 Sam rises from his seat and goes in for a hug. “Long time, no see, grandpa,” he jokes, pulling back and poking him in the chest. 

 Bucky rolls his eyes, a grin breaking across his face. “Yeah, yeah. Missed you too,” he says, pushing him away and starting toward the doors. 

 “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do. But it might have to wait until after we take care of business,” Sam states, trailing after him. 

 He wants to protest. Sam’s the last one he wants to talk about the events of the past few months with, but he’s got no one else left. 

 Bucky figures he’ll have to settle for him. 

 For now. 

[nexttrickanvils]

Beware of Karen Ch. 2

Sorry this took so long, had other priorities but here is the long awaited chapter 2 of Beware of Karen.

Summary: After Guybrush and Stan fail to deal with the latter’s ex-wife, Elaine decides to throw her hat into the ring. It goes about as well as you expect. ---------

Elaine hummed to herself as she set the table. While Guybrush was admittedly the better cook of the two, she still wanted to surprise her Pikaroni with a nice romantic dinner. Preferably without a certain plaid wearing charlatan joining them.

While Elaine had nothing against Stan… well okay maybe she had a lot against Stan… but that wasn’t the point, she’d prefer if he hadn’t attempted to drag her and Guybrush in an ex-lover’s quarrel of all things.

But she trusted Guybrush’s wit and uncanny ability to find absurd but simple solutions to absurd problems.

Before long, she could hear footsteps on the deck, she quickly lit the candles and plated the food.

“Welcome back, sugarboots! I hope you’re...”

The door opened and in came Guybrush… and Stan.

“Hey honey! Ooh are those potstickers I smell?”

“...Guybrush… I thought you were going to help Stan with his ex-wife and thus he would not bother us.” Elaine said, gritting her teeth

Guybrush, to his credit, looked apologetic.

“Well I did try, I honestly did but well… let’s just say Stan wasn’t exaggerating about how awful Karen is. So I guess Stan will be staying with us until Karen leaves.”

Elaine groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. Guybrush sighed and placed his hands on her shoulders.

“I know, I was really excited for all the quality time too but Elaine, you have no idea just how evil this woman is. I couldn’t just leave Stan to fend for himself against her, I’m a pirate not a monster!”

“...Really? And please do tell me, what makes her so terrible that Stan has to go in hiding with us?” Elaine asked, clearly unconvinced

“Well first: I could barely breathe around her stall, the perfume she was selling was that thick! She was also really pushy with the sales pitch like waaaaay worse than Stan. She also kept making all these mean comments about me being a terrible husband and how our marriage would fall apart if I didn’t buy her stuff. And she threatened to call the island authorities on Stan if he even thought of setting up shop near her! And he didn’t even do anything!”

Elaine raised an eyebrow, “Hm, I admit she does actually sound awful. But being pushy and rude are hardly the crimes of the century, sweetie.”

“Oh it goes beyond “pushy and rude.”” remarked Stan, mouth full of potstickers

“Karen thrives on “the hunt.” All she cares about is her next sale!"

"...Sounds like you." Elaine and Guybrush both remarked

"Oh no no no, my friends. I admit that Ol' Stan here may have exaggerated or cut some corners here and there. But hey sometimes that's what you gotta do when your clientele are a buncha rowdy swashbucklers!"

Stan continued, while grabbing another pot sticker, "Karen on the other hand… she has no respect for the art of sales, it's all a means to an end for her. And if anyone gets in the way of that precious end sale even if it’s only in her mind, she will destroy you! By the way, these are amazing, you could make a killing selling these.”

Once again, Elaine found herself not entirely convinced.  Stan stuffing himself with the food she made for herself and Guybrush didn’t help his case. But he also couldn’t really be considered a reliable narrator. And Guybrush, her dear Threepy, the love of her life… well he was quite prone to exaggeration.

Elaine sighed, well she wouldn’t be where she was now if she just sat and complained about a bad situation.

“Perhaps… I should speak to her…”

“NO!” Shouted both Guybrush and Stan

She just gave them a confident smile, “Oh don’t worry about me. I’m sure if I went without Stan, she won’t be as volatile. And besides, all my years as governor has given me quite the experience of negotiating with stubborn egotistic business owners. You remember that incident at the O'Malley's Galley last year, don’t you dear?”

Guybrush let out a small laugh and a blush, obviously remembering how Elaine dealt with the restaurant's owner after the man refused Guybrush's request to not serve the food on porcelain plates.

Elaine kissed Guybrush on the cheek, "I'll be fine dear. You just relax and I'll come back with the good news."

Then she looked over at Stan, "...And I suppose you just do what you can to entertain yourself."

And with that, Elaine made her way off the boat and into town. As she made her way, she kept rehearsing in her head how she'd calmly confront Karen.

However when Elaine arrived and started asking the other merchants about Karen, a feeling of dread began to form.

They were all smiles and sales until Elaine explained who she was looking for. They all suddenly dropped their grins and immediately apologized to Elaine for "wasting her time."

The most concerning interaction was from one merchant who told Elaine where Karen was then immediately begged her to not tell Karen that the two of them spoke.

Before long, Elaine found the woman of the hour making a sale.

"Trust me, dearie, this color and this scent are perfect for you! You'll be catching everyone's eye in no time!"

The female pirate grinned as she paid for her goods.

"Just remember, no refunds on used products."

"Yeah yeah yeah. Look out, Single's Night, Mama's coming!"

Elaine stepped aside to let the lady walk by then she took a deep breath and steeled herself.

"Excuse me? Are you Karen?"

"Hm?"

Elaine felt a shiver down her spine when Karen smiled at her.

“Well hello there, my dear! Whatever you need, I’ve got it.”

“Actually I’m not here to shop. You met my husband earlier? Guybrush Threepwood?”

“Ohhh! So he gave you the free sample? I knew you couldn’t resist! A woman of your taste would know fine class when you see it.”

Karen chuckled as she immediately looked through her inventory while Elaine was already finding her patience tested.

“Please just listen to me. I understand that your relationship with your ex-husband is… strained but it’s gotten to the point where he’s hiding on my and my husband’s ship trying to get away from you.”

“Hmph, Stan, being an absolute freeloader? You don’t say. Anyway…!”

To Elaine’s surprise, Karen grabbed her face.

“H-hey!”

“Hm, you look like a spring or autumn to me.”

Elaine quickly pushed her off though if that bothered Karen, she didn’t show it and went straight back to her sales pitch.

“Now your face is rather pale, you look like a ghost, dearie! Oh and you need to ditch that bandana, it clashes with your hair."

"Would you just LISTEN to me! I am not here to buy anything! Or to get make-up advice. Or whatever you think I'm here for! I need for you and Stan to reconcile whatever is going on with you two so my husband and I can be alone!"

With that, Karen just laughed.

"Oh you poor innocent sucker. There is no reconciling with that selfish mess of a man. But that's marriage for you, the minute the wifey has a problem, she's suddenly a nagging witch, am I right?"

Elaine's patience was growing thinner and thinner as she crossed her arms and glared at Karen.

"Fine. You two just can't get along, just fine. But at the very least just let Stan be. My husband and I have been looking forward to a nice romantic vacation and we can't exactly do that with Stan around.

Karen smirked and Elaine once again felt an icy chill.

"Oh really? And what do you think your "dear" husband and Stan are doing while they sent you to do their dirty work?"

"I volunteered…"

Karen continued, ignoring Elaine's correction, "They're probably just lazing about on the deck, pigging out on junk and guzzling grog. I was one of the lucky ones. I realized what a scam the whole marriage thing is and got out of there. I've still got my divorce lawyer's card, you know, when you realize that you don't need to settle with that blonde idiot."

Karen pulled out a card and placed it into Elaine's pocket. Without hesitation, Elaine grabbed Karen's wrist with an iron grip.

"HEY!!!"

“Now listen here, you can insult me all you want but my husband is a good man. He may have his moments but that goes for anyone. Do you know what we've faced off against together? Some of the fiercest pirates on the Seven Seas including the undead monster LeChuck. A real estate developer with delusions of grandeur who had the power to make mice out of men. A mad scientist obsessed with eternal life! Guybrush even conquered DEATH! And through all that, Guybrush has always been respectful, caring, and loving!”

Elaine let go of Karen's wrist but kept her steely glare on her.

"My husband may not be perfect but I cannot see myself with anyone else. Now I believe our business is done here."

Karen rubbed her wrist as she gave Elaine her own glare.

"Hmph, I suppose it is. But I am a forgiving sort. I'd be happy to help you once you figure things out."

Refusing to dignify Karen's response, Elaine simply turned around and walked away.

As Elaine stepped out of the marketplace, a shrill scream filled the air.

She looked toward the noise and saw the female pirate from earlier desperately trying to shake off two monkeys climbing all over her.

Elaine quickly came to the woman's rescue, shooing the monkeys away from her, giving the other pirate enough time… to dunk her head in the nearby fountain.

Whatever that did, it seemed to cause the monkeys to lose interest and run off.

"Oh thank Blackbeard's frilly underthings."

"Are… you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I will be."

"What in the world even happened?"

"Oh I'll tell ye what happened! I went to the bar to get ready for Single's Night and put on somea that goop that fast-talking she-devil sold me. Next thing I knew, the bar's monkey mascots were all over me."

"...And you're certain that it was the make-up that caused this?"

"DO I LOOK LIKE SOMEONE A MONKEY'D BE ATTRACTED TO TO YA!? They left me alone just fine then I put on that damn perfume and other stuff and they went crazy! "You'll be catching everyone's eyes in no time" apparently that includes mangy beasts!"

The other pirate stood up and emptied her bag of Karen's products. She then walked away, grumbling about her wasted money and time.

Maybe it was Guybrush's influence but Elaine couldn't help but pick up a couple of the fallen cosmetics.

Eventually Elaine made her way back to the Screaming Narwhal. Guybrush and Stan were on the deck though unlike Karen's prediction, Guybrush was practicing his banjo playing while Stan just read a book.

Guybrush immediately noticed Elaine walking onto the deck and smiled. At least Elaine had that.

"Plunderbunny! So um… how did it go?"

"...I apologize, you were both right. She's the absolute worst, how do we get rid of her?"

[btsslowburnfic]

Chthonic Love Chapter 2

Series Summary: Greek AU Yoongi/Hades x You/Persephone.  The Olympic Lord, Namjoon kidnaps you as a "gift" for his brother, ruler of the Underworld. Lord of Death: Yoongi.

Chapter 1 found Here

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

You stood there for a moment in absolute disbelief. You already hated most of the Olympian Gods who used mortals and lesser deities as their playthings all the time. And now here you were, in the Underworld of all places. Why?

"Um excuse me miss," you heard the woman by the door say. "I'm sure you are still very upset and terribly uncomfortable, but I do have my orders. I hope you understand."

You looked over at her empathetically. No one chose to stay in the Underworld, she clearly was as trapped as you were. "Yes of course. Please, lead me to my chambers." you bowed your head as you followed Lethe out of the throne room. What a fucking day. You thought. You tried to keep track of where you were going in case you decided to try and escape on your own.

"And down that way is the kitchen. I'm not sure what Goddesses from the mortal realm eat but I'm sure we can find you something. If you head that way," she gestured up a set of stairs to the left, "you'll find the library."

"Thank you. I'm sure I won't be here for very long." you said to her. She turned and gave you a patronizing look.

"Well you are a Goddess so maybe someone will come get you out of here. But if you have any thoughts of escaping you'd best put them to rest. Many have tried and all have failed. It might not seem like it today, but there are much worse places you could be than a palace in the Underworld."

You bit your tongue and took her words into consideration.

" Ah, here. This will do. "she said as she opened a large obsidian door with intricate silver carvings in it.

"Is this the furthest room from Lord Yoongi's?" you asked without thinking. You ran your hand down the beautiful inscription.

Lethe chuckled." No. But I'm tired of walking and it's not like he's going to check." you turned your head and your eyes widened. “What? You're not going to tell on me are you? This is a very nice room." She crossed her hands in front of her chest.

Despite your attempt to suppress it, a smile crept across your lips. “Of course not. Thank you. This will do for tonight."

“Will there be anything else m'lady?"

"No. Thank you Lethe." You turned and walked into the room. It was sparsely decorated but quite large. An empty fireplace was carved into the stone as well as a set of window seats on either side. A medium sized bed and wardrobe were in the room, covered in a layer of dust. You cringed slightly and conjured a light breeze, you opened a window and sent the dust particles out into the sky. Your powers weren’t very impressive without a living specimen.

You sighed and walked over to the now open window. You were slightly surprised the windows weren't barred.

From your window you saw the black sand dunes and Stygian Sea. You had heard stories about this place your whole life and while they captured the desolate nature of the land, they had failed to.mention its beauty. The Sea ebbed and flowed like liquid black glass, the sea foam of the mortal realm nowhere to be found. The sand dunes were almost pure black, like Night herself had spilled out into the expanse. You began to turn back to your room when movement caught your eye. You saw the silhouette of the man you had seen earlier walking across the plane. The solitary figure exuded absolute control over this dominion as he approached the Sea. You found yourself unable to take your eyes off of him, his long black cloak waving in the breeze and his pale hands cutting a sharp contrast to the surrounding landscape.

You watch him raise his arms and then you see the faint green glow appear across the water. Ships of the Dead. It was one thing to hear about the transition that humans went through when they left the mortal plane, it was another to see them approach their final resting place.

You saw Yoongi raise his hands and direct the ships. He looked up towards the castle. There was no way he could see you, and yet you felt seen. You suddenly felt like you were intruding on something quite private. You turned your back and closed the window.

-----

Yoongi had left his throne room feeling angry and flustered. He prided himself on his sense of control. He immediately headed to his study and slammed the door behind him. He took a few deep breaths. I control my emotions, they do not control me. He repeated to himself several times while breathing deeply. Even if my brother is a fucking idiot. He sat down and rolled his head side to side. What to do with Persephone. She was right. She was the Spring Goddess; she didn't belong in the underworld. He would need to find out more about this bet and the contract. And Hoseok. He didn't know how though; the other Gods didn't come this way. He sighed. He would have to figure something out. The poor woman was frightened of him and he'd made it worse by putting his cursed hands on her. He looked down at them and shuddered. That's what the mortals said. That he was the one who killed them. His hands were unclean. He was the despised and unwanted God. Yoongi took a deep breath out. No. He hadn't killed since the Titan Wars and he'd never killed a mortal.

He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to drive the self-hatred away. Fuck this day. He grabbed his cloak and decided to head to the beach early. He was the Lord of the Underworld, he could still do something right around here.

As much as it irritated him he found himself wondering about Persephone. He wondered where in the castle she ended up. Yoongi knew Lethe was kind and likely would not have actually put her that far away from the atrium of the castle. Although they weren't kidding when they said they weren't prepared for guests. Other than Namjoon popping in from time to time to start shit, no one had ever come to visit him. He wandered over towards the shore. She had looked so frightened and so helpless. He lifted his arms to summon the Ships. And he had made it worse for her. The dead began to sail towards him. He laughed sadly to himself. A companion? Who was Namjoon kidding? He guided the ships to the estuary. He looked up to the castle for the second time today and this time he swore he could see Persephone looking down at the shore towards him. He started to feel something inside him stirring but as soon as he blinked, she was gone. He must have imagined it.

"Open the gate Min Holly. You're a good boy."

----------

You paced around your room for a while. There is absolutely nothing to do. You sigh and take a seat on one of the window benches. Fucking Zeus. No. Namjoon. You’re not going to call your kidnapper by his Lordly title. You pouted; your brother would surely come for you. You’re surprised he hasn’t already to be honest. You look out to the horizon. You can’t tell if it’s day or night. It feels as though you’ve been here for a few hours but you have no way of knowing how long you were unconscious. Should you be freaking out instead of being bored? Maybe. But after sobbing from confusion and anger in the throne room you did not feel like you were in particular danger. Lord Yoongi had seemed more annoyed than menacing and you had been escorted to a guest room rather than the dungeon. You swished your dress back and forth in front of the mirror. You definitely looked like you had been kidnapped. Even though you knew it was silly and vain, you took the moss out of your hair and braided it. There. Much more like the Goddess of Spring, you thought as you raised your chin and walked over to the door and turned the handle. It opened easily, leading out to the hallway Lethe had escorted you through earlier. You quietly closed the bedroom door behind you. No one had told you that you had to stay put. You wander back towards the throne room. You hadn't visited many palaces but you knew that this one was desolate by comparison. Most castles were constantly bustling with activity and full of courtiers. You poked your head into the throne room. Nothing. No one. Just a throne carved into the obsidian walls. You entered, your feet barely making any noise on the stone floor. The rooms in the palace were all lit by an ethereal blue flame that provided light but little heat. You found yourself shivering as you completed your circle around the room.

You exited and walked through the giant set of double doors across the hallway. This would be considered the Great Hall at any other palace. You could only tell by the sheer size and the tapestries hanging down from the ceiling. There were a few servants milling about, looking about as bored as you felt.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the guest quarters?” you heard a voice. You jumped in surprise and turned towards it. A male servant, dressed nicer than the others and with an air of authority, had walked over to you and stood there looking like he had seen a ghost.

You straighten up, “I did go to the guest quarters. They were dreadfully boring so now I’m here.”

The two of you awkwardly stared at each other. “Are you going to escort me back to my quarters?” you asked, putting your hands on your hips.

“Umm...no I suppose I haven’t been ordered to do that.” he puts his hands behind his back and starts to turn around.

“Has Lord Yoongi returned yet?” you ask.

The man sighed as though you were asking him a most difficult question, but he does answer it, “Yes. He is in his office now. I’m on my way to give him my daily report.”

“Most excellent. Please take me with you. I have much to discuss with him now that I have settled in for the evening.” you began to follow him.

He stopped and widened his eyes at you. “I do not think that would be prudent m’lady. It’s only been a few hours since you arrived. Perhaps there is something else you could find to occupy your time.”

You stopped and looked into his eyes, “I’m so sorry. I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Persephone. Goddess of Spring. Harbinger of Winter. It’s so nice to meet you.” You stand there waiting for him to do the same.

The man lets out a tired sigh. “Yes m’lady of course. I am Penthos, the Chief Steward. I will do as you wish Goddess, although I do still advise against it.”

Your lips pressed together in a thin, firm line. “Your concern is noted. Please lead the way.”

"Very well but the Master does not like to be disturbed.” he said as he exited the hall with you following. You rolled your eyes as Penthos led you up a sweeping staircase. He knocked on the door, a low grumble responded indicating he could open the door.

"M’Lord." Penthos announced himself.

Yoongi didn't even look up from the parchment he is writing on, “Yes Penthos? Anything of note today?"

He awkwardly cleared his throat hoping for Lord Yoongi to look up, but to no avail." No sir. Other than your brother appearing and bringing a woman here against her will to be held captive, it's been a very normal day around here." Penthos remarks dryly.

Yoongi smiles while still looking down. You noticed how it instantly made him look so much younger. “Well I suppose that it has been a more eventful day than usual."

You realized that Penthos had no intention of introducing you, "Excuse me, the captive would like to have a word m'lord." your soft voice cut through the room

Yoongi froze. His quill dropped down onto the paper. He slowly raised his head and looked up at you. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked over to Penthos. “Penthos, thank you for bringing Lady Persephone here. You may leave.”

“I am sorry sir. I know you don’t like to be disturbed but she commanded me as a Goddess so I felt like I had to.” he said, daring to look fearfully over at you. Your mouth dropped open in surprise.

“I introduced myself to you and asked you to bring me here.” you retorted.

“That’s enough Penthos. As long as Lady Persephone is a guest here, you should treat her with respect and listen to her.” Yoongi waved his hand, dismissing this conversation as he returned to his parchment. It was Penthos’ turn to look at you. You raised your eyebrows in a “see?” gesture. You turned back towards the desk, “Thank you Lord Yoongi. Your kindness is most appreciated.” you responded with a slight curtsy.

“Just Yoongi is fine,” he grumbles from his desk.

You heard Penthos scoff as he exited the room.

“That seems so improper my Lord,” you lightly protested.

“Suit yourself. My realm, my rules.” he said, puffing out his cheeks and scribbling on the paper.

You looked around the study. This room clearly got used more than the throne room or the hall. The fireplace here was lit and there were cloaks and furs strewn about. Pages of filled parchment were all around the desk with books piled on both the shelves and the floor. A lyre and harpsichord were both against the back wall. You realized you have been standing there for several minutes just gawking at the room. Yoongi hadn’t said anything yet, still writing on his parchment. You sighed and looked for somewhere to sit. There was nowhere that you could see so you grabbed one of the furs and placed it in front of the fire, having a seat next to the blue flame.

Yoongi looked up from his paper. Until you moved, he had forgotten that you were there to be honest, he was lost in his own world. He saw you sitting next to the fireplace and found himself thinking you didn’t look so out of place here after all. He cleared his throat, “I apologize. As I mentioned before, my realm is not used to accommodating guests. I could find a chair for you if you wish.”

A King apologizing to you? You almost laughed at how strange it was, “No. This is fine, thank you. There are a few things I wanted to discuss with you if you have time.”

He placed his quill back in it’s holder and moved the parchment aside. He looked over at you, his face such a careful mixture between Godlike beauty and eternal sadness it rendered you momentarily unable to speak.

“You may speak freely here, Persephone.” he encouraged you, breaking you from your trance.

“Thank you. Firstly, is there a way to communicate with the mortal realm? I’m sure I’m bound here for some reason, which I would also like to know more about, but I would at least like my brother to know I’m ok. Is there any way you could do that?”

Yoongi blinked a few times. He was amazed you were here at all. He was certain you would be angrily crying in your room or plotting an escape or something. He never expected you to just calmly come and sit on the floor of his office, wrapped in one of his furs looking so beautiful. Wait, you had asked him a question. He sat there and tried to remember what you had asked but he just couldn’t. “I’m so sorry. What did you say?” his face turned red.

“My brother, Hoseok. I’m sure he is worried about me and I would like to let him know I’m ok.”

Yoongi thought for a moment, leaning back in his chair. “Ah yes, as you can imagine, not a lot of visitors from the Mortal Realm or Olympus pass through. I can’t leave here. I mean, physically I can, but my job,” he gestured to the window, “the dead would start to stack up and it would just be a mess. I can try to send a message through Charon though.”

“The ferryman?” you responded as you rubbed your hands together, wishing the blue flames put out heat.

“You are familiar with Chthonic culture?” Yoongi sits back in his seat surprised.

“Only a little. We had to pick between studying Olympus or the Underworld and I chose the Underworld.”

An almost imperceptible grin flashed across his face. “I imagine it’s not a popular topic.” he surmised.

You shrugged, “It seemed more interesting to me.”

“Are you cold?” he asked, as he noticed you rubbing your hands together and curling your knees to your chest.

“Yes. I’m the Goddess of Spring and my brother is like sunshine incarnate. I’m not used to...this,” you gestured to the air.

Yoongi raised a hand towards the fire and turned the blue flames red.

“Thank you. I wasn’t dressed properly for my visit to the Underworld.” you smirked.

Yoongi laughed at this, “You’re taking your kidnapping quite well. Shouldn’t you be plotting your escape?”

“Who says I’m not?” you raised your eyebrows at him and for a second you saw his expression change back to the same one you had seen when you first entered; eternal sadness. “I suppose I should be in my room crying but it was just so boring in there, and if I cry too much my face gets puffy and itchy. Besides, it’s not like you kidnapped me. I don’t think,” you turned to look at him. “You didn’t ask Namjoon to kidnap me did you?”

“Definitely not.” Yoongi stated as he pulled out fresh parchment and ink. “Apparently your brother made some sort of bet with Namjoon and you were the collateral.”

“Hoseok would never--!” you began, outraged.

“Yes yes, I’m sure it was my brother being a bastard and using some sort of wording to trick him. I don’t know the details. He brought you here and then literally dropped you onto my throne room floor. That’s all I know for now. Hopefully you can write to your brother and get more information.” he stood up and gestured to the parchment. “I can give this to Charon tonight if you’d like me to.”

“Oh really?” you said, eagerly looking over to the page. “You'll let me do that?”

Yoongi sighed, “Of course. I try to not make keeping people as hostages a habit.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” you said as you swung your legs underneath you to stand up. You felt like your one leg has pins and needles in it from sitting on the ground and you began to stumble. Yoongi stepped over and grabbed your elbow to steady you. He immediately thought back to earlier when you told him not to touch you and reached his hand back almost violently.

You didn’t even notice, “Thanks.” you smiled at him as you walked over to the desk and sat down. “I just meant I didn’t think you would be so nice.” Yoongi felt that same feeling from earlier; something in his chest beginning to untether itself. He stood behind you as you sat at his office chair, finding himself admiring how the red flames illuminated your face. He watched your delicate hand dip the quill into the ink jar and begin to write.

“No one has ever called me nice before,” he quietly said.

You pause thoughtfully, unaware of how much your passing comment meant to him. “Well that’s just because you don’t get any visitors down here. You are definitely one of the nicest Gods I’ve met. And I have met so so so many of them.”

“You don’t care for the Olympians?” he asked even though it was obvious.

“Being a minor deity I should really refrain from commenting,” you responded as you write your brother’s name at the top of the paper.

Yoongi leaned closer to you. “I told you to speak freely here Persephone.” You felt his breath on your ear and you suddenly became extremely aware of how close his mouth was to your body. You knew what you were about to say was heresy but something inside of you wanted so deeply to meet his challenge you allowed yourself to say it. “I fucking hate them.” you took a steadying breath, “And I hate your brother most of all.”

You felt him even closer this time, he whispered into your ear, “That’s a secret we both share.” You shivered, but not from the cold.

Yoongi smirked for a moment, watching as you began to write your letter. The Goddess of Spring was full of surprises. NEXT CHAPTER

[littlestarofthewest]

This is my @rdrsecretsanta gift for @little-box-of-flower-pots

I’m sorry this is so late, but I hope it fulfills your wishes. Please enjoy! :)

Title: Arthur’s Girl | Word Count: 4223 | Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female reader

You head into the saloon to meet with Arthur and find him standing in a corner with two other men. You don’t know their names, but Arthur told you that they usually know about good jobs in the area. For a little take of the score, they’re happy to share the information.

Since you don’t know how the men might react once they find out that Arthur’s partner is a woman, you rather stay at the bar and get yourself a drink instead of walking over to them. At first, you get lost in thought, the saloon becoming a blur around you, but then the voices of a few nearby women force their way into your mind.

“You gotta take a look, Lucy. Even you’d like him.”

You turn your head, looking over to a group of three women. Judging by their appearance, they’re the local working girls. One of them rolls her eyes. “I can’t even remember the last time a good-looking man came in here.”

“This one is way more than good-looking,” the first woman says, throwing her long red hair back over her shoulder. “I wish I could rip that shirt right open and take a closer look.”

“The shirt?” the blonde woman teases. “I’d rather get those tight jeans off. Can you see that bulge?”

Finally, the woman named Lucy seems convinced that it’s worth a look. She turns her head, and you follow her gaze, interested to see who the women are talking about. They all sneak glances into the corner where Arthur is standing with the two men. You give them a closer look, trying to figure out which one of the two men they’re talking about.

“Sweet Jesus, you were right.” Lucy lets out a deep sigh before turning back to the other women. “I wouldn’t mind that beard rubbing against my thighs.”

The women laugh before the Blonde leans over the table as if she’s longing to be in the other corner right that second. “I’d let him take me for free.”

You throw another look into the corner, your mind taking forever to come to the logical conclusion. Of the three men, the only man with a beard is Arthur. They’re talking about him.

“Alright, I’ll do it,” Lucy suddenly announces, “I’m going over there right now.”

The other women cheer, and you watch her moving her dress around until her cleavage is barely tamed by the thin fabric. On her way over to Arthur, she fusses with her hair and finally presents herself to him on a silver platter. There are lots of touching and laughing involved, paired with winking and licking her lips. Even you’d be hard-pressed to say no to such a pretty woman.

In the five years you’ve been friends with Arthur, you’ve seen this happen numerous times, and he always does the same thing. He’s charming and smiles, and still says no. Lucy comes back to the other girls, plopping down on her chair and looking over to the Blonde. “You’d let him take you twice, darling,” she teases. “He’s got the bluest eyes, and that voice.”

The women go right back to talking about Arthur and what they would love to do to him, calling him a dangerous gunslinger and more inappropriate things. You remember thinking that Arthur was nice on the eyes when you first met him, but you became friends so quickly that you’ve never thought about him as anything else.

Looking at him now, you begin to see with the other women’s eyes. Arthur recently shaved his beard, but his cheeks are still covered with a nice scruff that you know to be a lot softer than it looks. His hair has grown out a bit, always changing length based on his willingness to sit in a barber’s chair long enough to get it cut. One with a dirty mind might think that it has a good length to hold on to.

Further down, little hairs peak out of his shirt collar, and you don’t have to rip it off to know what’s hidden underneath. You’ve been on the road together so many times that you’ve seen Arthur’s naked chest almost as often as your own. You know every scar on his skin, and that the little hairs go all the way down into his pants. That’s the only mystery left to you. What’s under there.

“Mylady,” a deep voice whispers into your ear, and you’re brought back to reality by Arthur leaning over you.

He’s standing right by your side, your bodies touching as he leans on the bar next to you. “Arthur,” you manage to say, your mind racing.

You’ve never been so flustered around him, but the way those women talked about Arthur turned him from your good-hearted friend into a good looking man who’s worth climbing any chance you get. Arthur doesn’t do much to throw you off that path. 

“You want another drink?” he asks, his deep voice washing over you like a sweet caress. Before you can answer, he puts his hand on the small of your back, burning your skin while he orders for the both of you. 

Trying your best to control your breathing, you’re engulfed by Arthur’s scent, and you’re tempted to just lean in and bury your face in his chest. Instead, you grab the glass with your drink, determined to forget all about this nonsense. Seconds later, you find yourself staring at Arthur’s neck as he downs his own drink, leaving you to think about all the ways you could bite and lick his skin.

Holding in a growl, you wonder if Arthur always stands so close to you. Trying to look away from him, you catch another glimpse at the working girls, and the looks they give you range from jealous to impressed. There’s a good chance they consider you and Arthur to be a couple, the thought bringing even more heat to your body.

“Are you listening to me?” Arthur asks, making you look at him completely dumbfounded.

“What?”

Concern crawls onto Arthur’s face, and you drown in the blue of his eyes as he lifts his hand to your face, carefully cupping your cheek. “Are you alright? You look flushed.”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the soft touch, but then you manage to smile. “I just don’t like the heat. Tell me about the job.”

Arthur studies you for another moment before taking his hand away. “There’s a stage coming through here tomorrow, so I say we get a room and wait it out.”

“I thought we were going for a homestead?” you ask in confusion.

“We was, but then the guys told me about the stage. Not a good idea to rob something nearby and get the sheriff on our scent,” Arthur says. “The stage is worth way more money.”

“Alright, let’s wait then.”

Arthur smiles. “Another drink?”

You nod, hoping that the alcohol will manage to douse your confused mind. A few drinks later, there’s still a tingling feeling whenever Arthur stands too close or touches you, but you stop worrying about it. 

When it’s getting late, Arthur leads you up the stairs to your room, his arm around your waist like so many times before. You usually share a room to save money, and the second you’re through the door, Arthur kicks off his boots and takes off his shirt.

After what you felt downstairs, you hesitate for a moment to do the same, but you’d look a lot less suspicious if you did everything as always. You take off your own shirt, and by the time you pull down your pants, Arthur’s already crawling into the bed in his underwear. 

You lie down next to him, and it doesn’t take long for Arthur’s breathing to change, telling you that he fell asleep. With a sigh, you turn your back to him, convinced that tomorrow, everything’s going to be normal again.

——

The next morning, one thing is, in fact, normal. When you wake up, Arthur is basically wrapped around you. Whenever you share a bed, there’s a good chance you wake up completely entangled. Usually, you wiggle your way out of his grip and get up, but today you can’t bring yourself to move at all.

Arthur has his arm wrapped around your waist, his whole body pressing against yours. His face is buried in your neck, and when his hot breath ghosts over your skin, it sends cold shivers down your spine. You think about all the things the other women wanted to do to Arthur, and it gives you a sick sort of satisfaction that you’re actually in a position to do just that.

You dare yourself to move, rolling your hips. Arthur steers with a grunt. His lips touch the skin on your neck, and then you can feel his length rubbing hard against your ass. Your heart almost beats out of your chest, but you also feel bad about doing this to him in his sleep.

Turning around, you try to bring a little distance between the two of you, but Arthur won’t have it, pulling you close again. You can feel him pressing against your thigh while your hands come to rest against his chest. There’s still a chance for you to get out of this, but you don’t want to. 

Instead, you run your hand over Arthur’s chest and up to his neck, your grip firm since you don’t want to hide what you’re doing. He steers, and you venture back down, playing with the little hairs and circling Arthur’s nipples with your fingertips. With a grunt, he barely opens his eyes, making your blood run cold.

“Morning,” Arthur mumbles, and you’re not sure if he doesn’t notice what you’re doing or if he chooses not to comment on it.

“Good morning,” you say, and with your heart pounding like crazy, you dare to let your hand wander.

You caress Arthur’s stomach, enthralled by how soft the skin feels. You dig a little into the flesh until his muscles harden under your touch. Arthur has propped himself up a little, watching how your hand ventures even deeper, and finally, his eyes grow wide. You keep looking at him while you move your hand even lower, unable to stop yourself.

The second your hand cups the bulge in Arthur’s pants, he gets in motion. With a grunt, he grabs you by your waist and pulls you close. This time, it’s no accident when his lips meet your neck, and he teases your skin with little licks and bites. 

Spurred on by Arthur’s reaction, you get more daring. Without making a fuzz, you pull his underwear down and wonder what the three women would have to say about the glorious cock that springs into your hand. Arthur growls as you stroke him, and when he lifts you up, you eagerly follow along, climbing on top of him.

Arthur hitches up your chemise and holds it in place while you rub your pussy along the length of his cock, coating him with your slick. You wish you could draw this out, but you’re so turned on that you can only think about feeling Arthur inside of you. He stays still as you position yourself on top of him and closes his eyes with a deep groan when you slowly sink down onto his cock.

The sheer size of him drives you close to the edge, so you stay still for a moment. Without looking, Arthur runs his hands up your legs and over your stomach. His touch brings goosebumps all over your skin, your nipples hardening under the thin fabric of your chemise. Arthur opens his eyes, his gaze fixed on you as he ventures higher with his touches. His large hands cup your breasts, and the second he knits the soft flesh, you can’t hold on any longer.

Rolling your hips, you drive Arthur’s cock in and out of you at a rough pace, unable to avoid his gaze. He’s looking at you with so much fire and greed in his eyes that it takes your breath away. You thought that you maybe could get Arthur to fool around with you for a bit, but you never could have predicted something like this. For five years, you’ve watched Arthur say no to countless women, but here he is, saying yes to you. 

You lean forward, and Arthur eagerly pushes the fabric of your chemise aside, exposing your breasts. With the way he sucks and licks at you, Arthur drives you so wild that you ride him harder than you would any horse, the feeling of him inside you quickly driving you over the edge. Leaning back, your mouth falls open, Arthur’s name tumbling over your lips.

He’s holding on to your hips now, pushing into you with short hard thrust while your muscles clench around him. Arthur quickly pulls out of you, moaning as he paints his own stomach with his come. He lets go of you as if all strength has left him, and you fall forward like a puppet that got its strings cut, your hands resting on Arthur’s chest again.

You feel him desperately sucking in air while you try your best to gain control over your own breathing. After a short while, you want nothing more than to lie down and cuddle up to him, but a sudden thought shoots through your mind like a lightning bolt.

“Shit,” you curse, clumsily climbing off of Arthur, “we gonna miss the damn coach.”

Arthur groans, but follows you out of bed and you both dress as quickly as you can. Half an hour later, you’re waiting by the side of the road. Arthur comes over to you, and when he leans back against the same tree as you, his shoulder brushes against your own.

“Are you ready?” he asks, his blue eyes fixed on you.

Your mind is still reeling with what just happened. You’re not ready at all. Neither for the coach nor for whatever will happen after it. You’re so scared that you ruined your friendship that it must show on your face. 

Arthur takes your hand and squeezes it. “You’ll be alright. Trust me.”

That you can do. No matter what, you’ll always trust Arthur. You take a deep breath before pulling up your bandana. “Let’s do this.”

Arthur gives you a big smile before pulling up his bandana as well. “That’s my girl.”

He turns to the street to face the coach. You follow him with your heart almost beating out of your chest. For five years, you’ve been Arthur’s friend, but now, for reasons you don’t understand, you want nothing more than to really be Arthur’s girl.

——

Arthur croons his neck to catch a glimpse of you, spotting you on the other side of camp, talking to Hosea. With a sigh, Arthur leans back and stares at the empty page of his journal. He hadn’t written or drawn anything for a week, ever since that morning when he woke up to you touching him in ways he could only ever dream of.

How could he possibly find the words to describe how he feels? Five years ago, when Arthur first met you, he thought you were the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. That simple crush turned into more when he got to know you better, but then you got along so well that you quickly became good friends. After Arthur’s misfortunes with love, he didn’t dare to ruin that, burying his feelings deep down in the darkest places of his soul.

It’s not like Arthur lost that much. You spend lots of time together, had fun, and he got to experience your kindness and good nature almost every day. Being with you is as natural as breathing, but for the last week, Arthur has felt like drowning. Somehow, there’s always somebody else around, and he can’t catch a moment alone with you.

At first, Arthur only wanted to talk to you about what happened, but now that he spent a week without a word from you, Arthur right out misses you. Needless to say that his old feelings are back at full force. He needs to know why this happened between you two, and if there’s just the slightest chance that you might feel the same way he does.

With another sigh, Arthur rips out the last page of his journal, writing down a message for you. He strolls through camp and past your tent, making sure that nobody sees him before throwing the note inside. Then, Arthur gets on his horse and rides out of camp. If he has to watch you for another minute without being able to talk to you, he might lose his damn mind.

Three hours later, Arthur is still sitting in a room at the local hotel. In his message, he asked you to meet him here, and he’s determined to stay until he finally got to talk to you. The wait would be a lot easier with a drink, but Arthur wants to have a clear head should you decide to come by. He’d never forgive himself if he messed this up by being stupid.

When there’s a knock on the door, Arthur leaps up and almost rips the door off its hinges, flinging it open. You stand outside, seeming so small compared to him, your voice shy. “You wanted to talk?”

“Please, come in.” Arthur steps aside, and you walk past him to the middle of the room. 

Closing the door, Arthur stays where he is, afraid of what he might do if he lets himself get closer to you. He takes a deep breath, reciting the words he made up in his mind while waiting for you. “I wanted to talk about what happened last week.”

There’s a lot more Arthur wanted to say, but looking at you, a sudden fear takes hold of him. What if he says the wrong thing and you leave him? What if you don’t want to be friends with him anymore? Thousands of thoughts swirl around in Arthur’s mind, but not one makes it to his lips.

Like so many times before, you’re his salvation. Wringing your hands, you take a step closer to Arthur, holding his gaze, braver than he could ever be.

“Alright, I’ll start,” you say, taking a deep breath. “You’re my best friend, Arthur, and I don’t want to lose you, but for the last week, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to be with you again. If I’m honest, I want to be way more than just friends. I want to be-”

You stop, struggling with the word, and Arthur opens his mouth without thinking. “Lovers?”

“I, uh, I guess,” you say, a weak laugh breaking out of you. “You’ve always been the one with the words, right? Yes, lovers.”

Arthur felt grief, heartbreak, loss, and fear. He’s no stranger to overwhelming emotions, but nothing compares to what’s raging inside of him now. The only difference is that this time, it’s good. His heart fills up with something he can’t explain, but it’s so intense he can barely take it.

You deserve an answer, but while you called Arthur the one with the words, there’s just no way he can talk right now. Instead, he closes the gap between you and sweeps you up into his arms. You squeal with surprise, and Arthur starts over where you left off last week. 

Kissing your neck, Arthur carries you over to the bed to put you down on it, and seconds later, you’re tearing at each other’s clothes, wanting to feel each other, to be close again. Arthur crawls on top of you, and you eagerly spread your legs, letting him in. Buried deep inside of you, he takes a moment to feel that deep calmness only you’re able to give him.

Arthur stares into your eyes, bathing in the way you look back at him. There’s so much adoration and acceptance that it takes his breath away. You smile up at him, and while marveling at the curve of your lips, Arthur realizes that despite what happened last week, he’s never had the pleasure of kissing you.

He leans in, and you lift up your chin, fuelling his courage by welcoming him once again, always the one to take him just the way he is. Arthur presses his lips to yours, the soft brush of skin on skin so tender that he completely loses himself.

Your hands are in his hair, holding on as he deepens the kiss, your tongues rubbing hot against each other. Arthur’s engulfed by your taste, your scent, the way you hold on to him, needing him, trusting him. He wishes he could stay like this, preserve this moment forever, but you’re both too desperate for more.

Arthur can’t tell who loses control first, but all the tenderness soon makes room for shared moans between kisses, your fingers clawing at Arthur’s skin as he thrusts into you, spurred on by the euphoria of venturing deeper and deeper into your tight heat.

Reality blurs as you become Arthur’s whole world. Nothing matters but your touches and kisses, the sweet words you whisper into his ear before crying out his name. Still, Arthur feels guilty for not saying anything when you laid your heart bare to him. He keeps as still as he can, taking your face in his hands before searching your eyes.

“Goddamn girl, I love you,” he says, his voice hoarse as the words rush out of him, a prayer that you’ll hopefully accept.

The expression on your face is truly one of a goddess, not a cruel one, but so beautiful that you could shatter him on a whim. “I love you, too,” you say, your voice soft, a sweet caress for Arthur’s tormented soul.

He kisses you again, unable to stop now, losing himself in everything you are to him. You hold on to him, your eyes meeting again as you wrap your legs around him, forbidding him to shy away just an inch. Arthur follows your every desire, pushing into you to elicit eager moans and gasps, carrying you closer and closer to your sweet undoing. 

You come with Arthur’s name on your lips, your muscles clenching so hard around him that he can’t hold on. Still in your grasp, Arthur thrusts into you, filling you up with his come as your nails leave desperate marks on his skin. 

He buries his face against your neck and lets you pet him for a while, but then Arthur lies down next to you to unburden you from his weight. He pulls you close, and you rest your head against his chest, your fingertips caressing his stomach as if you’re back at where you started a week ago, coming full circle.

“I think I was jealous,” you admit to the silence between you, and Arthur moves a little to the side to look down at you.

“Jealous?”

“Last week in the saloon, these girls were talking about how good looking you were and what they would want to do to you in bed.”

“Keep going,” Arthur teases.

You laugh but hit his chest with not much force. “I’m trying to be serious here.”

Arthur leans in, planting a soft kiss on your lips. “I’m sorry. Are you talking about that Lucy girl?”

“You remember her name?” you say, your brows knitting together, and Arthur can’t help but find your jealousy pretty endearing.

“If it makes you do to me what you did last week, I’ll remember all of their names.”

You laugh, but instead of hitting Arthur again, you push him onto his back to crawl on top of him. Arthur reaches down to hold you in place, enjoying how your beautiful body melts against his. You look at him with a devilish smile that brings heat to every inch of his body.

“You’re going to punish me now?” Arthur asks, not minding the idea at all, but you shake your head.

“No, I won’t punish you,” you say, leaning down to leave some sweet kisses all over his chest. “I want to make up for lost time. Five years of lost time.”

Arthur lets go off you to rest his arms over his head. “I’m all yours.”

You run your fingers over his beard and the scars on his chin as if you need to rediscover him. “I hoped that you’d say that.”

——

Over the last years, Arthur has paid for many hotel rooms, but he’s never had to pay extra for a broken bed before. Judging by the bartender’s stare, it might also be some time before Arthur can show his face here again without getting weird looks.

Not that he cares. Arthur follows you outside to the horses, his eyes hefted to your swaying hips. He only looks up when you turn around to him, pulling him in for a kiss. It’s as if you already missed him in the few minutes you haven’t been glued together. 

Arthur feels the same way, and holding you in his arms, he knows that he’d do anything for you. His friend, his lover, his girl.

[tiramisiyu]

【未定事件簿】Tears of Themis: Main Story 6-13 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Video

Chapter 6 – Tiger’s Accomplice Ghost (Parts 1, 2): 6-1 / 6-3 / 6-5 / 6-7 / 6-9 / 6-11 / 6-13 / 6-15 ♦️ ♦️  6-16 / 6-18 / 6-20 / 6-22 / 6-24 / 6-26 / 6-27 / 6-28 / 6-29

--

Fu Qiao’s House

Tuesday night 8:00PM, we arrived at Fu Qiao’s house. Fu Qiao and Zhou Nan co-rented a place, so it sounded like they were somewhat richer than other university students, but the area of the place they lived in was actually very small.

MC: This house is just about 30 square meters, right.

On the left of the entrance was the washroom, and on the right, there was a very simple kitchen. There was a washing machine right under the induction stove. Deeper inside, there was a bed and book table. You could see everything in one look – the room was small enough that there wasn’t space for excess seating.

Fu Qiao: More or less. Rent in the middle of the city is expensive, and we can’t afford any larger.

Zuo Ran: Campus housing has cheap rent. You and Zhou Nan were both students, so why not rent a place there?

Fu Qiao: Nannan… didn’t go to school often. She spent more time going to the bar.

Fu Qiao: The transit here is convenient. You can take the subway to directly get to the bar or school.

MC: How many transit lines do you have to take to get from here to Xunye?

Fu Qiao: You take Line 7 to Changzhou Station, then switch to Line 3 to Jinyang Street to get there.

Zuo Ran: Isn’t it alright to take Line 7 straight to the bar? Having to switch rides must be troublesome.

Fu Qiao: Xunye Bar is on the other side of the road. If you get off the stop on the bar’s street, you’ll have to walk quite a distance over. Taking Jinyang Street is relatively closer.

Fu Qiao: From C exit, Xunye is a few steps east.

>Fu Qiao is lying!

MC: (Fu Qiao is lying. If he never knew where Xunye was, then how could he be so familiar with switching rides on the subway to get there!)

I pretended to casually shoot Zuo Ran a glance, and our eyes met. It was obvious that we were thinking the same thing.

MC: After Zhou Nan’s accident, you didn’t move back to live around on campus? You can save on costs like this.

Fu Qiao: No. I’m already in my fourth year of university, and I’m mostly focusing on internships and looking for work, so I don’t really go back to school.

Fu Qiao: Plus, we rented this place early on – we rented in first year. Rent was cheap back then, and it hasn’t risen these past few years.

Fu Qiao: It’s now really hard to find a place nearby at this price, so I didn’t back out of renting this place for future work convenience.

MC: That’s true. Real estate prices have grown fast in these past few years.

Fu Qiao: Ah, look at me, I forgot that I don’t have extra chairs at home, letting you two stand while talking.

Fu Qiao: In the past when Nannan and I were at home, it would always be one person sitting on the bed while the other sat on the chair. If we placed more around, they wouldn’t see any use.

Fu Qiao: Please wait for a bit, I’ll go borrow some from a neighbour.

Zuo Ran: Thank you for your trouble.

--

As Fu Qiao was gone, Zuo Ran and I could take this opportunity to observe if there were any clues in Fu Qiao’s house.

MC: Lawyer Zuo, have you noticed where things aren’t quite right in this house?

Zuo Ran: Mm, there are several places.

>Select: Closet

MC: Lawyer Zuo, look at that transparent closet.

The doors of the closet in Fu Qiao’s place were transparent – it could be considered as a sort of simplistic, industrial style.

MC: It seems like it’s all male clothing in there. I don’t see any female clothing in there at all.

Zuo Ran: There are few clothes hung in there – it’s clear that there’s still lots of space.

Zuo Ran: But we can’t exclude the possibility that Fu Qiao placed Zhou Nan’s items in a box to keep them.

Zuo Ran: Look at the bottom shelf – there are storage boxes.

MC: But based on my experience in putting away clothes, storage boxes typically contain clothes for other seasons.

MC: The weather’s not cold these days, and the clothes Fu Qiao hung are all unlayered clothes…

MC: Thick clothes like down clothing are probably inside the storage boxes.

Zuo Ran: If we consider that, there are only two storage boxes, so there isn’t space to put Zhou Nan’s clothes.

Zuo Ran: Because even if they were compressed, with the addition of winter bed linings, he would only be able to stuff it inside the closet.

MC: The topmost shelf of the closet is also empty…

MC: Is it possible that Fu Qiao threw away Zhou Nan’s clothes?

MC: But didn’t Zhao Fei say that they were all left for Fu Qiao as mementos? Since they’re mementos, why would he throw them?

This was very contradictory – I had somewhat of a hard time figuring it out.

Zuo Ran: We’ll indirectly ask him later.

 >Select: Closet (2)

MC: This kind of simplistic, industrial-style closet seems to be really popular these days – it’s fashionable.

Zuo Ran: I favour wooden furniture more – they have more of a sense of reality, and they look stable.

Zuo Ran: What about you?

MC: For me…

MC: Seems like there’s nothing I prefer in particular – fashionable or retro, I’m fine with it all.

Zuo Ran: Is that so… I understand.

  >Select: Bookshelf

Zuo Ran: “Basic Applications of Chemistry”, “Calculus”…

Zuo Ran: They should be Fu Qiao’s books.

MC: There isn’t a single book on photography, and there aren’t any pictures in the room like at Zhao Fei’s house…

MC: Even if Zhou Nan didn’t like studying, didn’t go to classes, and didn’t get teaching materials, she should still have photography equipment.

MC: She even went to a bar to work for photography, so she probably truly liked it.

Zuo Ran: There also isn’t any photography equipment in anywhere visible…

Zuo Ran: Photography equipment are expensive items, and they must have been things that Zhou Nan valued, so where could they be kept…?

 >Select: Bookshelf (2)

MC: Lawyer Zuo, you have a lot of collected books in your house, right – are they all law-related books?

Zuo Ran: Half of the second floor at my house is a movies and music room, and half is book room – the books I’ve collected could be considered to be many.

Zuo Ran: Aside from law, there are also movies, philosophy, science fiction, and some original German books.

MC: If there’s a chance, could I borrow some to read?

Zuo Ran: Of course. You’re welcome anytime.

 >Select: Dresser

MC: A guy’s dresser sure is simple…

Zuo Ran: Will a lady have many things on her dresser?

Zuo Ran: Things like skincare products and jewelry?

MC: That’s right! Aside from the skincare products everyone knows about, I’ve even got several kinds of combs.

MC: Such as hairbrushes, toothed combs, round brushes, bristle brushes, et cetera…

Zuo Ran: Is it to deal with different hairstyles?

MC: Of course.

MC: But the toughest part of every day is seeing all the hair that I’ll never be able to fully clear off from the combs…

Just as I’d spoken, I heard Zuo Ran laugh quietly.

MC: If I already got the high-level lawyer qualification, I probably wouldn’t be troubled by this.

Zuo Ran: No, you’ve misunderstood, I didn’t intend to laugh at you.

Zuo Ran: I just feel like you… are very lively like this.

MC: Eh?

Zuo Ran: I don’t see you like this often.

MC: …

Zuo Ran: I’ve learned it from you now. When I go home, I’ll research the different types of combs – usually, I really don’t use this many.

MC: But, Lawyer Zuo, what are you studying up on this for…

Smiling, Zuo Ran shook his head without replying to me.

 >Select: Dresser (2)

Zuo Ran: Most of the things on the dresser are things that males use. There is no indication that a woman lived here.

MC: (Where did Fu Qiao store Zhou Nan’s things?)

 >Select: Bed

Zuo Ran: There is only one pillow on the bed, and the bedsheets are also the dark-coloured style preferred by men…

MC: Yeah. Typically, though the fabrics on often get washed, it’s rare for them to be thrown away, unless if they’re damaged.

MC: For the blankets, quilts, and so on that I’ve bought, I’ll use them for several years.

MC: This is even more so for pillows – I’m reluctant to switch them out after getting used to them…

MC: But Fu Qiao… though it’s a two-person bed, it’s obvious that only one person used the fabrics on the bed.

MC: And it’s the kind that guys prefer…

Zuo Ran: After Zhou Nan’s death, he threw all the things they originally had, and changed to a new set.

Zuo Ran: We can’t exclude this possibility.

MC: Anyway, if it were me, I probably wouldn’t buy fabrics of this style.

--

MC: Looking at Fu Qiao’s house furnishings, it looks just like he’s completely erased all the indications of Zhou Nan living here.

Zuo Ran: Someone who loved deeply, who couldn’t retain in time the indications of his partner’s life after she passed…

Zuo Ran: He must be hiding something if he’s cleared everything out so cleanly.

Fu Qiao was taking a bit of a long time borrowing chairs, so Zuo Ran and I waited for quite a while before he came back.

--

Fu Qiao: My apologies, the neighbours around all get off work late, so most of them aren’t home.

MC: No need to worry, we were the ones to trouble you.

Fu Qiao: You can’t say that…

Fu Qiao: After Nannan passed, very few people still thought of her. Thank you for worrying and running around for her.

Zuo Ran: We were also entrusted to this by someone.

Fu Qiao: Uh, was it Nannan’s big brother? I’ve seen him a few times, though we’re not very familiar.

Fu Qiao: As for Nannan’s mother… she’s already emigrated to another country with her new family. After Nannan died, she only gave a call.

MC: …

Fu Qiao: You two said before that Nannan was murdered, so you mean… she didn’t use illegal drugs herself?

Zuo Ran: Yes, we suspect that Zhou Nan was deliberately murdered, so we wanted to get an understanding of the situation from you.

Zuo Ran: You should be the person who is the most familiar with her in this world.

Fu Qiao: How could that be… how could she have been murdered…

MC: Mr. Fu, do you mean that it’s not possible for someone to have murdered Zhou Nan?

Fu Qiao: Though Nannan worked as a bar waitress, which is kind of… you know, but she probably never started a feud with anyone.

>He didn’t approve of Zhou Nan!

MC: (With Fu Qiao’s tone, it’s clear that he doesn’t approve of bar waitressing!)

Fu Qiao: Ugh, I don’t know where to start, so ask as you please.

INTERROGATION START

Relations with Zhou Nan

MC: Mr. Fu, we just saw you burn the paper cranes – the relationship between you and Zhou Nan must have been excellent.

Fu Qiao: Mhmm, Nannan was my first love, as well as the only person I’ve ever liked up to now.

Fu Qiao: If not for Nannan’s incident, I had already prepared to marry her after graduating from fourth year, which would be next year.

Zuo Ran: Mr. Fu, I presume you aren’t a native to Stellis City and did not attend the same school as Zhou Nan. How did you two meet?

Fu Qiao: I’m not a Stellis City citizen – my family lives outside of the city.

Fu Qiao: I don’t really like to interact with people in real life. Instead, I chat with friends online more.

Fu Qiao: Nannan and I met online. I first liked the scenic pictures she took, then got to know her.

MC: Scenic pictures? Were they posted on social media?

Fu Qiao: Yes. We were both in high school back then, and there was lots of pressure to study, so I liked to look at her pictures to relive pressure.

Fu Qiao: During then, I vaguely felt like I liked Nannan, and I wrote in the Gaokao* that I aspired to go to Stellis City.

Fu Qiao: After we met offline when first year started, we officially started dating.

Zuo Ran: Looks like Zhou Nan’s photography skills are excellent.

Fu Qiao: Mhmm. To me, the pictures she took were the most beautiful.

 TL Note:

*Gaokao are China’s standardized tests for university admissions.

Locations of Zhou Nan’s Works

MC: Have you still kept Zhou Nan’s works?

MC: I don’t seem to see any in your house.

Fu Qiao: About this…

Fu Qiao: I… I burned all the photos…

MC: Burned them? Why?

Fu Qiao: Missing someone after seeing related things will only make me sadder.

Fu Qiao: Not just her works – I either donated all her things or burned them.

Fu Qiao: I feel like I won’t be able to walk free all my life if I leave those things at home.

Talisman

MC: If I may be so bold, is the thing on your neck… an talisman?

MC: If you keep it so close on you, was it something left by Zhou Nan?

Fu Qiao: Ah, this…

Fu Qiao: This is an talisman, but it wasn’t left by Nannan. It’s a symbol of peace that I prayed for at Yunxia Temple.

Zuo Ran: Could you take it out for a look? I’m just purely curious.

Zuo Ran: I’ve always wanted to go to Yunxia Temple to pray for one, but work is too busy, and I never have time.

Fu Qiao clutched at his collar, looking somewhat agitated.

Fu Qiao: Sorry, the master said that it’s best to not show it to anyone aside from family – otherwise, it won’t work.

Zuo Ran: I’m sorry, I acted impolitely.

The moment Fu Qiao put down his hand, I noticed that the bottom of his index finger seemed to be a bit thinner than the upper part…

MC: (Is this… the mark left by a ring?)

MC: (If one wears a ring for a long time without taking it off, day or night, then it’ll leave this kind of mark.)

MC: (A lot of people who wear wedding rings are like this.)

MC: (Ring…)

  Bar Waitressing

Zuo Ran: A hobby like photography is very costly – after all, the equipment is very expensive.

Zuo Ran: Was Zhou Nan’s financial situation alright? Did she have any financial conflicts with anyone?

Fu Qiao: Nannan’s costs were indeed large, but she was a girl that strove for self-improvement and always relied on herself to work for money. She never took on any loans.

Fu Qiao: If she didn’t have to deal with these costs, she wouldn’t have worked as a bar waitress.

MC: Mr. Fu… you must not have been willing for Zhou Nan to be a bar waitress?

Fu Qiao: Of course I wasn’t willing. This job is both tough and dangerous. Aside from drinking every day and damaging her body, those guests…

As he spoke, Fu Qiao clenched his fist.

Fu Qiao: Those guests became handsy with her quite a few times.

Fu Qiao: Though Nannan wouldn’t stay out for the night, but…

Zuo Ran: When did you find out that Zhou Nan was a bar waitress?

Zuo Ran: You considered Zhou Nan’s convenience of transit when you first rented the house, so she must have worked as a bar waitress for a while.

Fu Qiao: At the beginning, I only knew that she worked in the north area. I didn’t know she was a bar waitress.

Fu Qiao: After, she told me that she worked at Xunye, and only said that she was a singer.

Fu Qiao: Nannan’s singing was very good.

Fu Qiao never directly answered the question “When did he find out about Zhou Nan being a bar waitress”. But based on how Fu Qiao described this job, he didn’t seem like he only knew of Zhou Nan bar waitressing after her death – instead, it was like he went to get an understanding of it beforehand.

He didn’t tell the truth, and Zuo Ran and I didn’t persist in these questions, to avoid raising his alert accidentally.

Interpersonal Relationships

MC: Theoretically, if Zhou Nan was murdered by someone, can you think of any suspects?

Fu Qiao: Uh… as of now, I can’t come up with anything.

Fu Qiao: Aside from exams at the end of term, Nannan very rarely went to school. Most of her friends were ones she knew from the bar.

Fu Qiao: If I really had to say, I think that the bar guests are more probable.

Fu Qiao: Those people weren’t good people to begin with, and they could have gotten in contact with illegal drugs.

Zuo Ran: But what reason would they have to murder Zhou Nan?

Fu Qiao: Maybe it was love-related jealousy?

Fu Qiao: They’re too far away from my life, so I don’t really know much about it.

Proof He Wasn’t on the Scene

MC: What were you doing on the night of Zhou Nan’s incident?

To avoid making this question seem too offensive, I added a question to it.

MC: When did the police contact you about Zhou Nan’s incident?

Fu Qiao: That night, I was doing experiments at school. Because I was very tired, I headed straight home after the experiment finished.

Fu Qiao: When the police contacted me, it was early morning. I was asleep, and didn’t get to pick up.

Fu Qiao: I only knew of Nannan’s incident after waking at 8AM and looking at my phone.

MC: Didn’t you say that Zhou Nan has never stayed out for the night? Didn’t you get in touch with her when she didn’t get back at night?

Fu Qiao: …

A flash of panic passed over Fu Qiao’s face, and he recovered his calm very quickly.

Fu Qiao: She had keys. If she got back late, she would open the door herself.

Fu Qiao: I originally thought that she would return at 2-3-o’clock – this was also a frequent occurrence.

MC: Is that so…

MC: Did you usually pick her up after she got off work?

Partners will typically do this, right?

Fu Qiao: I’ve brought it up before, but it’s too far to go back and forth. As a non-local, I’m not familiar with the north area, and the public safety there is bad, so Nannan didn’t let me go.

Fu Qiao: She said that she had a friend that lived near us. If she couldn’t make it to the last train, then she’d come back with her friend.

MC: If so… you’ve never gone to Xunye Bar?

Fu Qiao: I’ve never gone. I’ve also only heard Nannan casually bring up Xunye’s address.

Chen Hanzhang

MC: Mr. Fu, do you know this person?

I handed Chen Hanzhang’s photo to Fu Qiao. He just hastily swept his gaze over it.

Fu Qiao: I don’t know her. Who is she?

Zuo Ran: She’s called Chen Hanzhang. She went to Xunye that night, and she is also suspected of illegal drug trafficking.

Fu Qiao: Do you suspect that it was her who killed Nannan?

Zuo Ran: We only suspect her. We have no evidence, and we also can’t find a motive for her to kill Zhou Nan.

Fu Qiao: She doesn’t look like a good person, but I’ve never met her.

Fu Qiao kept his head lowered the whole time he was speaking, and he never looked at Chen Hanzhang’s photo again.

Zuo Ran: …

Drug History

MC: Do you know about how Zhou Nan has history with drugs?

Fu Qiao: Mhmm, I know about it. But it was very slight, and she went on withdrawal a long time ago.

Zuo Ran: After this matter, didn’t you try to convince Zhou Nan to change jobs?

Fu Qiao: I did… but her income would decrease if she changed jobs, and she wouldn’t be able to make enough.

Fu Qiao: It was me that was useless – I couldn’t help her split the responsibility…

INTERROGATION END

--

After flipping through the analysis record I made before, it seemed like we’d basically asked Fu Qiao all that we needed to ask.

MC: Mr. Fu, we’ve troubled you today…

MC: Eh? Mr. Fu, you grow out your nails? I believe that it’s rare for guys to grow out their nails.

Both of Fu Qiao’s pinky nails had been grown out. The other fingers all had their nails cut neatly.

Fu Qiao: Oh, for convenience.

Fu Qiao: Either for experiments or for daily life, there are always places to use one’s nails.

Fu Qiao: It’s not quite the same as when women grow out their nails.

MC: That’s true.

Fu Qiao: That… if there are new developments about Nannan’s cause of death, could you let me know?

MC: Sure. Then we’ll bid farewell.

[knightofthecourt]

Love Bites - Chapter 8

Belatrice Gray was a TA at Belgrave University, working hard to stay on top of her marking and trying not to flunk her own studies, when a night out with her bff Randall and his roommates, changed everything.

Hamish Duke x OC fiction with fluff, romance and angst. OC description has been left out to allow for reader personalisation!

“Stupid, stupid, STUPID.” The vending machine shook as Bela whacked the side of it, earning her a dirty look from a young, blonde woman sitting at the table across from her in the student lounge. 

She gave the machine another thump and her packet of Cheetos fell forward a fraction of an inch, and then stopped. Bela didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or give the irritating box a good solid kick. 

“Wow, nothing gets a woman going like a faulty vending machine.” Randall joked as he joined his friend in front of the infernal device. “Don’t worry Bels, I’ve got you covered.”

He reached into his satchel and pulled out a Twix. As Bela took it with a small ‘thanks’, her eyes were suspiciously glassy. Randall grimaced, “Bad day?”

“Bad month.” Bela replied. 

“Still on for our epic film night?”  

Bela nodded. “When have I ever said no to The Princess Bride? We can grab snacks on the way to mine.”

As they walked Bela felt herself relax slightly, letting Randall’s easy chatter drown out the sounds of the students around them. 

“We thought we’d celebrate the end of finals but Jack was busy with Alyssa again, like always - must be a Tuesday, right? I wanted to go to B&C but Lil insisted on going to that new bar down the road, the one with all the bikers-” 

Bela nodded in sympathy, unwrapping her Twix. 

“And then we got SO drunk, Hamis-” Randall broke off suddenly.    

Bela looked at him. “You can say his name, Randall.” 

“I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Who’s upset?” Her eyes flashed. “It’s totally normal to sleep with someone who ditches you in their apartment and then ignores you for three weeks straight. The kids call it being ‘ghosted’ Randall, and it’s a normal part of the college experience.” 

Catching the look on her friend’s face she forced her expression into something she hoped resembled a smile. “Really,” she insisted, “I’m over it.” 

“Yes, of course you are - I’m totally convinced.” 

Bela had been trying her hardest to avoid drawing her friend into her little pity party over Hamish. She’d had her feelings hurt before by a guy - by a dozen guys, but this time it stung more than she wanted to admit. When Bela had woken alone in Hamish’s apartment with sore legs, a sore neck and, well, sore all over, she had been surprised. A few days and three unreturned texts later she’d been worried. After Randall had awkwardly confirmed over coffee, that Hamish was in fact, alive, she had been furious. 

Despite hitting all of the usual heartbreak remedies - romcom binges, a rather satisfying round of axe throwing at the hipster place round the corner, and just plain, wallowing - Bela’s feelings were as raw as they had been weeks ago. As much as she wanted to, she just wasn’t moving on. 

She’d quickly realised that talking to Randall was off the cards. He was her friend, but he was also Hamish’s friend. When she attempted to casually bring up the situation, his insistence that it was just a difficult and complicated situation (which he couldn’t explain to her), just made her feel worse. Besides, it wasn’t fair for her to put him in the middle of what was quickly turning into a bizarre and deeply depressing, failed romantic conquest.  

The final straw had been last Monday. She’d been walking home from class, distracted by the thought of another late night grading papers, when she rounded a corner and almost ran head-first into him. The countless nights spent imagining what she'd do if she saw Hamish did little to prepare her. There was no apology, no awkward exchange or attempt to excuse his abrupt absence from her life, Hamish had just turned on his heels and walked off in the opposite direction, leaving Bela, and a very confused Randall and Lilith in his wake. 

Once they’d all recovered from the moment, Lilith and Randall had offered to help carry the papers back to her apartment, but Bela politely and firmly refused. 

Instead she walked the 15 minute journey home, closed her front door on the outside world and then, after setting the papers neatly on her coffee table, burst into tears. 

“Bels,” said Randall, pulling her out of her thoughts. 

“Mmhm?” 

“I don’t think you’re fine.” He reached over and prised the mangled chocolate bar from her fist. “Blade and Chalice?” He suggested.    

“Yes, please,” Bela said with a weak smile. 

- - - - - 

“You’re gone and I gotta stay high, all the time, to keep you off my mind, ooOo-hoo, ooOoo-hoo.” Gabrielle warbled from a stage in the corner of the packed bar. 

“You didn’t tell me it was karaoke night.” Bela rolled her eyes as the brunette milked the spotlight for all she could. 

“She sounds like an angel.” Randall slurred, pouring himself another beer. 

Bela squinted at him. “Do you have a crush on Gabrielle?”

“Pffft,” Randall blinked a few times, trying to focus on the stage, “She does sing it well though…” 

“Right, I’m cutting you off.” 

“Nooooo, hells bells-ha! Bels. Get it?” 

“Yes,” Bela sighed, “I get it.”

Randall frowned. “But you’re not laughing.” 

“That’s because it wasn’t funny.” 

Randall grabbed his chest. “You wound me Bela. And to think I thought of you as my friend.” 

“A real friend would get us a refill from the bar.” Bela shook the empty pitcher. 

As Randall stumbled across the room she looked around. The Blade and Chalice was packed with students, regulars and - was that? Yep - even a few professors. They’d managed to snag a table by the door when they got there but as the hours ticked on the place had quickly filled up and was now almost uncomfortably busy. The promise of cheap beer and bad karaoke clearly drew a big crowd and though it wasn’t Bela’s usual idea of a good night, she couldn’t deny that sitting here with her friend, downing drinks and mocking the performances was actually proving to be a pretty decent distraction. 

“I have a surprise for you.”

“Is it more beer?” 

Randall placed the pitcher on the table between them. “No, well yes. But also I signed us up for a song.” 

“Oh great, so we can be the drunk idiots everyone’s making fun of?” 

“C’mon Bels, it’s just a bit of fun. Let’s do something funnnnnnn, for once in our lives! No one cares, they’re all at least five beers deep anyway.”  

Bela huffed. He had a point.

“Fine, but I’m not singing a ballad.” 

Randall did a happy dance and dragged Bella up to the stage. As the first chords of Now or Never by Halsey began, Bela grimaced. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Randall.” 

“Big smile doll, it’s showtime!” He launched into the first verse. “I don’t wanna fight right now. Know you always right. Know I need you round with me, but nobody waitin’ round with me.” 

Bela groaned as he smiled in encouragement. “Been through the ups, yeah the ups and the downs with me. Got a whole lot of love, but you don’t wanna spread it round with me.”

“Let’s take it to the chorus!” Randall shouted into the mic. Bela smiled at her friend, he was clearly having the time of his life.     

Randall’s voice joined hers as they sang together, “Baby gon’ love me now, now, now, now, now or never. I want you to hold me down, down, down, down, down forever.” Randall shook his hips, eliciting a chorus of cheers and whistles from the crowd. 

Bela giggled, for the first time in ages she was actually kind of enjoying herself. The beer gave her a fuzzy, comfortably numb feeling and as she watched Randall crooning into his mic, dancing provocatively in front of the crowd she couldn’t help but grin. When he noticed her smiling he grabbed her hand and twirled her round. They finished their song with a flourish and made their way off the stage. 

As they stepped down Gabrielle approached Randall. “Nice dance moves,” She said, leaning close to him and batting her long lashes. “Want to buy me a drink?”.   

He looked at her like a deer caught in headlights for a second and then remembered why he was in the bar in the first place. “Uh, I’m hanging with my bestie tonight.” 

Bela rolled her eyes and leaned over to him. “Are you crazy? Go have fun - I’m fine!” 

“No, I’m not leaving you alone”. 

“Don’t be an idiot. Tonight was awesome, consider me cheered up! Now go.” She gave him a gentle shove in Gabrielle’s direction. He flashed her a hasty thumbs up and mouthed wish me luck, before following her to the bar.

Bela smiled to herself, Gabrielle was going to eat that boy  alive. 

She was making her way back to the table to grab her bag when she bumped into someone coming from the direction of the bar. 

Lilith swore loudly as the glasses she was holding splashed over, catching the front of her jeans. “Seriously? I just got these, watch where you’re going, you drunk- oh. Shit. Hi”. Lilith looked up, her anger fizzling when she recognised Bela.  

Oh God, Bela thought, if Lilith was here did that mean…?

As if she could read her mind, Lilith raised the glasses. “Uh…I’m just here for a nightcap.” 

Bela eyed the drinks - a beer and a scotch. “Both of those for you?” 

“Yep. What? Now only men can be alcoholics?” 

Bela felt the effects of the beer evaporating quickly, along with her good mood. She didn’t really want to spoil her first good night in ages and the last thing she wanted right now was to start an argument with Hamish’s aggressively possessive bff. “Ok, sure. Have fun.” 

Bela grabbed her bag and coat and headed towards the door, just as the bell above it chimed. 

She noticed Hamish before he saw her. He was wrapped in a thick coat, buttoned up against the cold, distracted by the phone in his hand. Lilith shoved past her, approaching him quickly.

“Haim, sorry I didn’t realise - Randall said they were going to be at-”

He looked up to the sound of her voice, in confusion, before his eyes slid over past her shoulder and locked with Bela’s. 

Bela watched in shock as he snarled - actually snarled - at Lilith and then turned and walked straight out of the bar. 

Lilith huffed and slammed her drinks down on the closest table. “Really! Again?”