#and I hope nothing I said offends anybody because it wasn’t meant to be anything but me assuring all of you that I’m not in charge

[cosmic-hoboandthehighlander]

I didn’t create tedmort.

I want to make that 100000% clear. I didn’t come up with it, I didn’t write the first fic or draw the first art. I didn’t even come up with the damn ship name! I need all of you to understand something because even if you think it’s not important for me to be clear about this, it really is to me, in my opinion.

I don’t credit tedmort as my ship. It doesn’t belong solely to me: y’all can write it, draw it, headcanon it — it’s not mine and never was! I don’t own it and won’t ever claim that I do. I will never ever gatekeep tedmort because they’re so precious to me and I want all of you to love them and cherish them as much as I do.

Warning: Long post ahead but it’s my feelings and I really hope you all take the time out to read this.

When I called myself the tedmort ship captain, it wasn’t because I was claiming the ship as MY rarepair. It’s me saying listen, I wrote a lot of tedmort and the tags here on tumblr and on ao3 are filled with me screaming into the void about this ship. I am the person standing on the deck of the ship that is the USS Tedmort, if you will, and hyping it up! Calling all of you from the shore to come on, hop aboard, and sail with me, not for me.

I do want to be the captain of the ship, but not in an “I own this!” sort of way, but in a “come, join me!” way. I want to set up the refershment table of headcanons and tell everyone joining up on our ship to “take a headcanon and leave one of your own!” and to joke and laugh over the angst we’ve collectively put our poor middle aged men through. This is a collective and I am not in charge and don’t want to be.

At the end of the day, I do want to be known as the tedmort person. But I really want to be known as more of a guide. A person that anyone in fandom, new or old, feels comfortable with approaching because I want to share tedmort with every single one of you. I write this ship because I love it. I feel the passion that I haven’t in fandom for a long time for these two and I feel free to share it without judgement!

I just love Teddy and Mort, plain and simple. I’m gonna write whether anybody is reading it or not because I’m having fun. But I want you as a fandom to have fun too.

I don’t want anybody to ever feel like they can’t write a ship because it “belongs” to someone else. Because someone has claimed the ship as “theirs.” I know there will always be people like that, in every fandom and every corner of the internet and in every part of the real world - someone who stakes claim because they love something so much, alienating others even when they don’t do mean to. I love being known for tedmort, but other people deserve a chance in the spotlight for their tedmort fics as well.

So maybe this is me saying, I’ll be your guide to tedmort, if you’ll have me, but I will never make this ship out to be mine and mine alone. Tedmort is ours.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 5

More people said yes to Hannigram, which is good because Will is already involved in the plot and it would be awkward to have him just disappear. Also, I had someone request a Hannigram x reader in my asks. Apologies to the one person who voted no; I promise there will be more solo Hannibal x reader content in the future.

Hannibal decides to that y/n could do with some extra protection, but doesn’t anticipate what she has to tell him.

I have no idea how to make a proper tag list but @deadman-inc-bikeshop and @dovahdokren here you go 

Trigger warnings: discussions of alcohol, victim blaming

“When I saw his face, I immediately knew he had never once experienced the touch of his own hand, let alone that of a woman.” Charissa read out loud to everyone on staff. “Or, that he was buried so deep in the closet he found Narnia, but those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.” 

It was expected to be a slow night, as was normal for an ordinary Tuesday. On nights like those, you could get away with more, like reading a tabloid article out loud for everyone to hear. 

“I can’t believe [F/N] actually went public.” One of the new busboys commented. “What an absolute madlad.”  

“Did you just unironically use reddit terminology in an actual conversation?” You narrowed your eyes at the kid. 

“[F/N], you are making a very dangerous enemy.” An older waitress said, cryptically, from the corner of the room. 

“Who, Jason?” You gestured to the busboy. “What’s he gonna do? Make me cringe myself to death?” 

“You know that’s not who I mean.” She frowned. “I’m talking about Chase Mulvaney.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You shook your head. “He’s not stupid enough to come back here.” 

Charissa made a noise that denoted her doubt. “I dunno, [F/N]. You’d have to be pretty stupid to start stabbing people at a crowded restaurant in broad daylight.” 

“But he was smart enough to get away, right?” Jason asked. “That’s gotta count for something!” 

You and Charissa exchanged glances. Neither of you had the emotional bandwidth to explain white privilege again. Instead, you just humored him. 

“Yeah.” Charissa lied. “He was smart enough to get away, meaning he probably knows better than to come back.”

"You're kidding yourself." A third waitress, who's name you couldn't seem to place, added. "People always say that killers are these galaxy-brained superhumans, but they're not. Mulvaney believes he's divinely ordained, so any thought that pops into his coked-out head is a sign from god."

And so shattered your thin firmament of denial. You made a point to never learn this person's name just out of spite.

“Oh, shit.” You said, trying to hide your genuine fear with a sarcastic voice. “Maybe he is coming back for me.” 

Charissa glared at the two other waitresses, equally pissed at them for scaring you.

"And it'll be your own fault for provoking him with that article." The older waitress said.

"Holy victim-blaming, batman." You mumbled.

“Alright, listen up, y’all.” Matthew announced to the group. “In ten minutes we open for dinner. Remember, if you want to switch shifts with another person, you have to run it by me first. I don’t want to see anybody but [F/N] at the bar tonight, capiche?”

“Yessir.” You saluted him and made your way over to the bar. You’d been doling out your bartending shifts left and right to avoid even the possibility of being cornered by another Freddie Lounds. You were only prolonging the inevitable, though. Eventually, you needed to return to the bar.

You passed the hostess's stand, where Charissa was stationed. Suddenly, you felt someone grab at your arm.

"Fucking hell, dude?!" You flinched violently and your heart rate jumped. "Don't do that!"

"Shit, sorry!" Charissa looked immediately regretful. "But, look!"

You followed her gaze through the window where a fancy car was parked. He leaned against the door, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt.

Now your heart was beating fast for a completely different reason. You squeezed Charissa's hand, trying to keep a lid on your nervous excitement.

"I think your luck's starting to turn." She said in a sing-songy voice.

"Yeah, I bet he'll protect me from the Baltimore Butcher." You whispered, trying not to giggle like an elementary school girl.

"Oh, could you imagine those arms around you?" She sighed deeply, her hand firmly against her chest. "I would die."

"Not until he sinks his teeth into your neck." You smirked, gnashing your teeth together.

"I would let him." She rested her chin on her hand.

"Yeah, me too." You agreed.

"I would give anything to trade shifts with you." Charissa groaned.

"Well, you heard the boss." You shrugged, suddenly feeling much better about your assignment. "I gotta stay behind the bar."

"Oh, pobrecita." Charissa rolled her eyes. Underneath the stand, she put up her middle finger in your direction. "Suck a dick, [L/N]."

You walked backwards towards the bar, keeping your eyes on your friend. "That's the plan, baby."

You tried to make yourself look busy. You dared not look at him as he entered the restaurant.

He exchanged pleasantries with Charissa then took his seat at the bar. You pretended not to notice him right away, only to give you an extra second to compose yourself.

"Hi there." You greeted, knowing you'd feel stupid no matter what you said. "Er- good evening."

"[F/N] [L/N], I assume?" He asked.

Fuck, you thought. His voice was dark, low and made your insides tremble. Even though part of you knew he was going to know your name, it still felt so sensual passing his lips.

You realized you had waved to him with your bandaged hand. That's how he was about to identify you so quickly. "Yes, I am she. I mean- her. Me."

Way to go, dumbass. You thought. Now he knows you're nervous and he's going to wonder why.

“God, I need to stop wearing this damn thing.” You said, clearing your throat. “What can I get for you tonight?” 

He was quiet for a moment. "What do you recommend?"

"Well, that depends." You said, pulling your gaze from him and grabbing a few wine glasses down from a high shelf. It was the only way you could maintain your composure.

"On?"

"What you're having for dinner, for one." You said. "And whether or not you're a vulpine tabloid journalist trying to corner me into a dubiously ethical interview. That's also a factor."

"So that's how Miss Lounds wore you down?" He concluded. "With wine?"

You rested your elbows on the bar, filled with an intoxicating confidence. "She tried wine first. Then she tried to get me fired because she asked for chardonnay and I brought her chablis. And when that didn't work, she siphoned my gas."

"I wish I could say that was out of character for her." He looked at you, apologetically.

"I take it you've had your own run-ins with Freddie?" You smiled.

"She's tried to infiltrate my practice multiple times." He sighed. "She's entered my office under a fake name with a recording device in her purse."

"What a sick fuck." You said, before remembering you really weren't supposed to curse in front of customers. You covered your mouth. "Sorry."

The corners of his mouth turned up into an amused smile. "Don't apologize. You're right."

“So you’re a doctor?” You asked, hoping he wasn’t the type to be offended by questions. 

“I’m a psychiatrist.” He nodded. “I used to work as a surgeon, but I find the mind much more compelling.” 

"Seriously, though." You pushed yourself back to your feet. "What can I get for you?"

He eyed the wine menu and then looked back at you. "What is your favorite red?"

"My favorite red?" You placed your hand on your collarbones. "On a night like this, I enjoy a nice, dry Argentinean Malbec."

"In that case," he thumbed through the list once more. "I'll have a bottle of Cobos Chañares from 2016, please."

You smiled. You wouldn't mind taking a sip of that if he offered. "Right away."

You carefully pulled the solid black bottle from its crevice and placed it on the bar. You removed the plastic seal and reached for the corkscrew. The bottle opened with a satisfying pop, filling the air around you with the strong, complex and seemingly contradictory aromas.

You poured a bit of this criminally expensive wine into his glass. He smelled it, then swirled it for a moment before taking a sip.

"Redcurrants and vanilla," he began. "With floral notes that operate with the precision of interlocking gears in a clock. Everything in its place."

"So you're a sommelier and a poet?" You tilted your head and filled his glass. "I'll bet you make women swoon at every corner."

You never had the best grasp on flirting, but even you knew that line was awful.

“Are you flirting with me, Miss [L/N]?” He asked, clearly not too worried about the consequences and enjoying the flattery. “Or are you just trying to get a taste of this Malbec?” 

“Little bit of column A, little bit of column B.” You shrugged. “Though you are as handsome as everyone says, I’ve had my eyes on that wine for slightly longer.” 

You fought the urge to slap your hand over your mouth. You had just broken the cardinal rule of workplace gossip. Panic reverberated through your body as you tried to break down his unreadable expression. 

Once again, he just looked amused. “I’ve seen those lingering glances, the way you all whisper and giggle. It’s flattering.” 

You felt your cheeks growing hot. “...I see.” 

“If you tell me what they say about me, I’ll let you have a taste.” His eyes bored into yours. 

You paused, trying to decipher exactly what he was offering. Then it hit you. 

“Oh!” You interjected. “The wine.” 

“Yes, that’s what I meant.” He said. “Dare I ask where your mind went?” 

Your cheeks stung from all the uncomfortable smiling. “I’d really like to keep my job, thanks.” 

“Have you never heard of bartender-client confidentiality?” His voice lowered and his eyes found your lips. “Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls.” 

Your insides turned to jelly. He rested the wine glass in his hand and offered it to you. Your hands shaking, you cradled the glass like an 18th century French village prostitute being offered a mug of hot soup. You brought the glass to your lips, the strong, overwhelming smells assaulting your orifices.

You let the wine grace your tongue. You had taught yourself to overcome the sting of the alcohol and focus on the undertones. Your eyes rolled back in to your head and you let out a little noise of pleasure. 

“Christ on a bike, that’s decadent.” You said, gasping for air a little bit. You quickly passed the glass back to him before Matthew could see you. “Thank you.” 

“Now, indulge me.” He instructed, glancing at the fresh pink lipstick mark on his glass. “What do the lovely women of Terroir whisper while I’m just out of earshot?” 

You rested your elbows on the bar and leaned in close. “They say you’re a vampire.” 

Judging by his unchanging neutral expression, it clearly wasn’t the first time someone had made that connection. “Perhaps they’re on to something.” 

“One of our line cooks used to say you were the devil.” You informed him, hoping that was one he hadn’t heard before.

“Used to?” He raised his eyebrows. 

“Until Chase Mulvaney came around.” You instinctively ran your fingers over your bandages, as if to make sure they were still there. It was a nervous tick you’d developed anytime someone brought up that day. “He’s stopped talking about, like, anything having to do with his religion ever since.” 

“It takes a lot to get an evangelist to stop evangelizing.” He refilled his glass. “Do you think he lost his faith?” 

“I heard someone say in passing that it was because he and Chase Mulvaney went to the same church.” You whispered. “But I can’t verify that.” 

“I’d say it’s more likely than a regular customer being a vampire, wouldn’t you?” 

“I wouldn’t trust their word because they made a regular customer into a vampire.” You corrected, hoping he would overlook the fact that you were one of them. “Secrets may stay within these four walls, but they tend to bounce around. It’s only a matter of time before one escapes, and you’d better hope it’s not one of yours.” 

This man must have been an exceptional therapist, because, there you were, baring your soul to him after fifteen minutes and one sip of wine. Occasionally, you were pulled away from the conversation by another customer who had the audacity to also want a drink. But, very few people came to you with the sole intent of drinking on a Tuesday evening. You and the sommelier talked until closing time. 

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Miss [L/N].” He said pulling out his wallet. “You are as delightful in person as you are on paper.” 

“Thank you, but I never caught-” you said, but stopped yourself. “I mean, you never gave me your name.” 

He signed his name on the paper check, then pulled out a fifty and unceremoniously handed it to you. “Now why would you want to ruin the mystery?” 

“Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls, remember?” You grinned and crossed your arms. “Come on, I won’t tell anyone.” 

He took the customer copy of the receipt and scribbled something down on it. He the folded it in half and slid it in your direction as if it contained nuclear launch codes. 

“Join me for dinner someday.” He ordered. “I’ll supply the Malbec.” 

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Payback | Dean Winchester

✦ pairing — Dean Winchester x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.2k

✦ request — I was wondering if you could do a dean winchester imagine that is like the reader is like young and has been with the boys since she was 18 and now she’s like around 21 or 22. She lives at the bunker with them and helps with research. So, basically she’s fallen in love with dean and has been in love with him for years. She never says anything because she watches him go after all these skinny girls and thinks she will never be good enough since she’s big and doesn’t think he’d ever like her. Then one day she basically just reaches a breaking point and it comes out to dean, and after some angst they get together. Then maybe some fluff or smut?

✦ warnings — angst, age gap (reader is in her twenties while Dean is in his forties), reader is kinda insecure at times, language, mentions of past sexual partners, mentions of a past ilegal relationship, a twinge of jealousy, suggestive stuff, some fluff.

════════════════════════

You heard laughs on the other side of the bar, right under the Bud Light neon sign. Unable to stop yourself, you looked that way.

A small friend group had erupted in laughter. There was a tall guy in the middle of two redheads — you couldn’t see very well, but you could tell he had caught you staring.

So you deviated your eyes to the right, where the bartender served one of your companions another beer. A couple of beers in fact. Dean was talking to a woman, undoubtedly charming her as he rested his elbow on the bar and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

You couldn’t look any longer, you would be sick if you did. He should’ve been doing that to you.

Realistically, you were probably twice her size or more, but you still could dream.

That was the problem, truly — you only could dream. Dean would quit hunting before even considering seeing you as a potential conquest. By this point, you should have been used to it.

Your eyes went back to the friend group from earlier. The tall guy held your gaze for a moment — you couldn’t figure out his eye color, or what his eyes showed under the uneven light, but you damn well could see he was handsome.

Not wanting to give him the wrong impression, you turned to your side and picked up your jacket.

Maybe you should also start to pay attention to the men who were actually interested.

But they weren’t Dean Winchester.

Comparing every man you met to him was a reflex, just like comparing yourself to the women he picked up at bars.

The Bunker was eerie every hour of the day, but there was something especially uncanny about an empty Bunker in the middle of the night. Devastatingly so.

Turning on the lights as you made your way towards the library, you made a beeline towards the kitchen. You weren’t in the mood for drinking anymore or for food, but you knew you needed to drink water.

Taking refugee in the library, you looked around a few news sites to see if you found something. It wasn’t difficult to find something shady or weird going on, but filtering out conspiracy theories was a pain in the ass.

Eventually, you found just what you were hoping you would. Dean and Sam rarely took you with them for hunts, but perhaps you could convince them this time to at least let you watch from the car.

Sam came home a little later, tipsy enough to be in a good mood. You told him about the case you had found, he said he would check it out in the morning and wished you a goodnight.

Dean didn’t come home. Why would he when he could have literally anybody he wanted?

You didn’t get any sleep. You had hoped that listening to an audiobook would lull you, but like most things, it wasn’t enough to even entertain you.

You were sick of this, of being into somebody who would never be into you. And who the fuck loses sleep for somebody who doesn’t see them as anything more than a sibling? You, apparently.

You needed coffee and a hug, but coffee by itself would have to do.

To your luck, Dean was already in the kitchen when you entered. His hair was wet which meant he was, thankfully, fresh out of the shower.

Instead of greeting you, he asked, “Where’s Sammy?”

You shrugged. “I haven’t seen him since last night.”

“He took the car.”

You didn’t even know Sam had brought the car home the night before. “He must have found the case interesting.”

“There’s a case?”

“Kind of. It’s not too far away from here,” you explained, “but I wasn’t sure it was something up our alley. I guess Sam thought it was.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you weren’t here.” You could tell your answer offended him. Good.

“You should have called.”

“Babying you isn’t my job, Dean.”

“Funny you say that when babysitting you isn’t mine and yet...”

“Can you stop treating me like a fucking child for two seconds?”

“Stop acting like one and I might.”

“God, you’re fucking insufferable. I can’t believe I’m in love with you!”

You didn’t know whose eyes were wider, if his or yours.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath.

He tried to be nonchalant, but Dean couldn’t even move. “Sweetheart, come on. It’s okay.”

You effusively shook your head. “It’s isn’t.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“No, you don’t get to tell me what to do or how to fucking react.” You were yelling now. Why were you yelling over this?

“I— well, I don’t know what to say.” He stuttered. “I mean, you are a kid. I could be your dad who had a kid at a young age, okay? This is fucking crazy.”

“You weren’t supposed to know. It’s humiliating.”

“I’m not going to give you shit about it.”

“No, you are. And then you’re gonna go and fuck somebody who’s actually hot and interesting and you’re gonna make me feel worse.”

“Hey, you’re interesting.”

“I’m not. And even then, you don’t go for them because they’re interesting, do you?”

“What do you want me to say?”

You wanted him to say that you were attractive too, that he would go for you in a heartbeat.

“Nothing.”

Both of you remained silent then. He had many chances to make it right, to have enough pity for you to at least apologize for not realizing you were in love with him sooner.

“ I’m gonna go,” you announced, having decided that this wasn’t worth it. The humiliation hurt, but his reaction stung.

He reached over and stopped you. “Wait, wait, wait.”

“What now?” Your voice broke and your lip trembled. Not now, you thought. But now it was.

“Don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it.”

He hugged you to his chest. “I hate seeing you cry.”

His arms were tightly wrapped around you, a hand on the back of your head and the other on your upper back.

“You’re making me feel even more stupid,” you admitted through tears.

Dean sighed heavily. His hand twitched against your clothed skin as he tried to keep himself from rubbing his face. “You know, maybe you need a break.”

“Are you really trying to get rid of me already?”

He didn’t deny it. So you pushed him off you and stormed out. You couldn’t even get a fucking consolation hug.

════════════════════════

You liked to think you were doing a good job avoiding him. It wasn’t like he spent that much time at home either way.

Expecting him to care had been too much, it seemed. You hadn’t wanted him to beg, or even fantasized about him chasing after you — you just wanted him to care, to at least told you he would forget about it or pretend you hadn’t said anything.

Sam entered the library, feigning interest in the stack of books you had piled on the table two nights ago.

He stalled, opening the one on top as though he hadn’t seen it before.

You shuffled in your seat. Waiting for whatever he would say.

He cleared his throat so you’d look up. You did.

“Dean and I are going out for a drink or two. Want to come?”

“No, I’m gonna watch something on my laptop and go to bed early.”

Sam gave you a worried look. “Well, if you need anything...”

“Have fun.”

Maybe Dean had been right, maybe you needed a break, and maybe —just maybe— this wasn’t the place you were meant to be at.

But you wanted to be there, and you wanted him. It fucking sucked that you would never get what you wanted just because you weren’t thin.

Story of your life.

You stayed in the library longer than you planned and eventually your tv marathon was held there. You had everything you needed and the chairs were comfortable enough.

Your laptop rested on the other side of the table as you leaned onto said table with your forearms and laid your head on your arm.

A knock on the thick door startled you. Looking up, you found green eyes.

“Did I scare you?”

You pressed the space bar to pause your show. “I wasn’t expecting you guys to come back early.”

“Sammy left with somebody so he’s not coming home tonight.”

You hummed, unsure as to what you were supposed to say. Should you say that you were happy for Sam? Should you ask why he hadn’t left with somebody too?

Dean spoke before you could come up with something. “Can we, uh, talk?”

Seeing you nod, Dean approached the table. He didn’t sit down, forcing you to crane your neck.

“I’ll find somewhere else to live,” you assured him.

He frowned, looking down as he searched for your now shifty eyes. “You’re leaving?”

“Isn’t that what you wanted to talk about?”

“No.” He rubbed his palm against his forehead. “I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

You twisted your mouth. “It’s a little late for that.”

He hurriedly said, “I don’t want you to leave. You’re part of the family.”

“I think I deserve space to move on.”

A groan slipped past his throat and lips, rumbling in his chest. He was growing desperate. “Look... I’m trying to be the responsible adult here because God knows you won’t be.”

“So now I’m an adult?”

“It was never my intention to treat you like a child. I just wanted to put some distance between us.”

“You could have said so.” You didn’t think you would need to state the obvious to somebody as smart as Dean.

“I didn’t want things to be weird or to give the impression that I could take advantage of you if you were too close. I would never do that.”

Not proud enough to pretend you knew what he was talking about, you admitted, “I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

“You’re pretty,” he blurted. “Really fucking pretty and interesting and so attractive that’s kinda unfair. And you’re also too young.”

“Dean.”

“Mmmh?”

“Kiss me.”

“Weren’t you listening to me?”

“Just kiss me,” you insisted. “We’ll forget about it if it doesn’t feel right.”

Dean took the chair beside yours out and pulled it to the side. His eyes didn’t meet yours as he leaned in, but they did when his nose brushed yours.

He softly placed his lips on top of yours. You saw his eyes screw shut before you closed yours. It was short and sweet, and when he parted from you, you feared you would have to go back to hide the way you felt about him.

Grabbing you by the waist, Dean made you stand up. He wrapped an arm around you while you rested your hands on his sides as a reflex.

He kissed you again, hard. So hard he unintentionally pushed you against the table. His tongue tasted of whiskey and those bacon-flavored chips you had never had the heart to tell him weren’t that good.

You brought a hand up to the back of his neck, kissing him deeply.

Dean took advantage of the fact that he had you trapped between the table and his body to caress yours. He started with your back and dragged his hands down to your ass.

His hands traveled to your torso, where he could surely feel your belly up, fingers toying with the hem of your black t-shirt.

You stopped his fingers from lifting your top and pulled away from the kiss. “Wait.”

“Having second thoughts?” he breathlessly asked.

“I’m not what you’re used to,” you explained through ragged breathing. “At all.”

”Really?”

You nodded, ashamed. One thing was him knowing how big you were and other was him seeing it for himself.

“Don’t take this the wrong way...”

“That’s a great way to let me know you’re about to insult me.” Fuck. You were getting defensive again — what a way to kill the mood.

“I’m not!” he defended himself. “I was going to point out that you’ve been around for a relatively short amount of time to know what I’m used to.”

“I’ve never seen you with a fat person before.”

“And I’ve never seen you with somebody older than you before.”

Was he playing dumb? “Of course you have.”

“Huh? When?”

“That guy in Texas was well in his thirties. And I dated somebody in their twenties when I was 16, I’m not too proud of that one, but—“

He interrupted you. “Nevermind. Shut up.” Dean kissed you again, bringing you flush against him.

You smiled against his mouth. “Is somebody jealous?”

“Maybe.”

“Good. Serves you right.”

“You’re evil.” He bit down your bottom lip and pulled on it.

“It’s just payback, I promise.”

Dean snorted. “Can’t say I don’t deserve it.”

You remained silent, allowing him to dissipate the tension. You would let him do whatever he wanted, regardless of the outcome, but you were too scared to say it.

You didn’t have to.

“Hey.” He cupped your face. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he assured you. His voice was uncharacteristically soft. “We can take our time.”

[hpalways]

Commissions || Childe

UNPREDICTABLE people were like magnets to you, somehow always managing to show up. Usually, you would avoid them at any given chance, preventing further interactions from occurring. As an adventurer, you didn't work for the thrill, but rather for the money. That meant that deep inside, you longed for a peaceful life, which was the main reason why there were certain beings that shouldn't exist in your reality. So how did it go oh-so-terrible with Tartaglia?

You first met Tartaglia -- also known as Childe -- in Liyue Harbor when you were at a stall to buy food. You had a few commissions in tail, waiting to be resolved for the day. But first, food was on your mind. It wouldn't do any good to fight hilichurls and whatnot with an empty stomach. As you were about to dig into your trouser's pockets to find any mora, a man stepped up in front of you, blocking the way. Assuming that he was budging you in line, you opened your mouth to protest, but the words faltered to come out when the male whirled around to face you.

Deep, blue eyes stared into your soul, twinkling mischievously... and somehow, you couldn't read into them. Fiery, orange hair accompanied his features, going unexpectedly well with the blue. Smiling at you crookedly, he saluted you with a gloved hand. A red mask was adorned on the side of his head, matching the red details on his overall gray outfit. He was very tall and attractive -- taking you momentarily off guard. 

"I'll pay for your meal. My treat," he easily told you, making a show of flashing the lump of mora in his hands. He even went as far as to swing his arm around your shoulders like the two of you were friends. The warm, close contact nearly caused you to freeze in place, getting flustered all over. What the hell was happening?

"Oh... sure," you uttered, staring blankly at him. Well, there was no use turning him down. The word treat was enough to hook and wheel you in. 

"What's your name?" he inquired in a friendly manner, lugging you along as if you were a ragged doll through the waiting line.

Hesitating to answer for a second, you were beginning to look stupid under his expecting gaze. There was a reason though: you were wary of strangers, having learned that the hard way when you encountered Treasure Hoarders one time. But seeing how amused this man was by your internal debate, you pushed the doubts away and decided to go for it. "I'm [Y/N]. You?"

"Lovely name befitting for a lovely person," he mused, leaving you embarrassed. "I'm Childe."

It was then your turn to order. Letting his arm around you go, he straightened up and nudged you ahead. The warmth evaporated from you and you suddenly wished for his touch again. Horrified by your thoughts, you brushed them away and stepped up to the front, telling the chef your order. 

Once that was done with and the food was received, you sat down at a table outside. Three whole dishes filled of food, you wasted no time to dive into them, the steamy aroma wafting into the air. Mouthful of food, you almost choked when you found the so-called Childe sitting down in front of you. Coughing for a good minute or two, you suffered as he watched you in enjoyment. When you could catch your breath, you averted your gaze to the table. Oh god, you wished you could bury yourself before you could humiliate yourself any further. He shouldn't have followed you here. 

"I'm surprised you bought three whole dishes for yourself," he pointed out, taking delight in teasing you. 

You scowled and looked at him, the shameful emotion fading away. "Are you insinuating something?" you asked, squinting at him. He rose his brows in surprise, quickly shaking his head to explain he meant no harm. Sighing, you decided to go all out then. If he already knew your name, what difference would it make to share a few more things about yourself? Besides, this was Liyue Harbor we're talking about; no one was that desperate to seek out trouble so publicly. "I'm an adventurer and I also do commissions. Fighting takes up a lot of my energy, so only one meal wouldn't suffice."

Something swirled in his eyes -- unknown and still just as unreadable. However, you paid no mind to it, too absorbed by the food and the conversation to notice. Maybe this was where it went wrong. "An adventurer?" he echoed, his voice breathless. His ears seemingly perked up and he leaned forward in his seat, anxious to hear more. "What would you say if I tagged along with you today?"

It was shocking to hear that, but eventually, you accepted his self-invitation and brought him along to the locations. Setting off by foot, the two of continued onward with full bellies and enough energy to last several hours. The land stretched for miles and miles, scaping the grounds of hills, mountains, rivers, and meadows. Hogs ran through the trees and birds soared in the skies. Monsters rolled around in the dust, waiting to ambush anybody in the way. The sun beating down upon your backs and the weather a little too warm for liking, it was a difficult trek, but nothing close to impossible for an adventurer.

The fighting began when the destination to a pack of hilichurls appeared on sight. Unsheathing your blade, you immediately attacked them, continuously slashing away until they were entirely cleaned up. Breathing heavily with sweat beading your forehead, you did all the dirty work as Childe inspected from the side, his eye following your every move.

It wasn't easy though. You struggled at some areas, sometimes missing them or getting slightly injured by their own weapons. It was sloppy and flawed, for you were not a skilled swordsman, born without the talent and money. Anyway, it didn't matter much; as long as you did the job, that was what mattered. 

The next one took place near the mountains. Insuring that a wagon would be delivered somewhere safely, you had to fend off more monsters, circling around the large transport tirelessly to prevent any damage. While you were doing so, the orange haired male lounged on top of the-said wagon, relaxed and watching the battle beneath him. 

Afterwards, it was of simple commissions, with no sword involved. On the last one and feeding ducks for a little kid you accidentally offended, you let out a yawn, ready to go home and sleep everything off. Your partner for the day was also there, crouching down beside the lake's bank, tossing the wheat to the little creatures. Turning his head to the side, he gave you a small smile. Unlike you, he was widely awake and full of energy -- you expected that much, considering he didn't do anything to help you. 

"I enjoyed traveling around with you today, [Y/N]," he said, straightening himself up until he returned to being taller than you. 

Minus the part where he was completely useless to you, you couldn't help but admit that it was enjoyable to have him him around. His cheery persona helped to distract you from your dislike with the job, filling the silence with easy discussion about basically anything. "It was fun... I suppose," you responded, letting out yet another yawn. 

"You know, you could've asked me help. It would've been less straining for you," he pointed out.

You swerved your head at the mention of this, flabbergasted with your mouth hung open like a gaping fish. "You can fight?!" You shot up from where you sat, stepping up to a half-laughing, half-scared Childe. He nodded slowly and you rubbed your eyes harshly, curses running through your head. "And you didn't think to tell me that until now?"

He shrugged, drinking in your angered expression. No ounce of remorse shown in his features, he was pleased to get a rise out of you. Goddammit, this guy was going to be the death of you. "You never asked."

Not replying to him, you faced the other way and crossed your arms, brooding like a kid after a tantrum. 

"Aw, don't be mad at me," he cooed, petting your [h/c] head endearingly. "Hey, are you thinking of improving your swordsmanship?"

Originally planning to give him the silent treatment, you could barely even hold on to the promise for a minute. His question intrigued you and you began to wonder why he was asking you something like that. "No, not really," you answered. 

"Why not?"

"It's not necessary. My level is adequate for the commissions I take on. It's not like I'm striving to be anything legendary... that's just asking for a death sentence."

His forehead furrowed and a darkened gaze was aimed at you. He seemed to want to say a lot of things, yet couldn't find the words to them. Was he... mad at you for some unknown reason? Almost expecting a big lecture from him, you were shocked to hear what he said instead. "You have potential though."

That was where you parted from Tartaglia that young evening, but by no means was that the last time you were to see him. 

You would run into him at Liyue Harbor, in Mondstadt, or sometimes in your travels as an adventurer. Each time you would welcome him warmly, always glad to have his company. He was seriously growing on you, become a friend that distracted you from the hardships of the cold reality. He brightened the atmosphere wherever he went, always the charismatic type, wooing anyone with a tip of a smile. 

Of course, you knew he was a Harbringer; he never made a show of hiding it, so you were acknowledged of this pretty much immediately. Hearing the gossip and rumors of the Fatui, you understood that the organization was hella sketchy, but it didn't shine a bad light on Childe at all. You wanted to put your hopes in him, to give him the benefit of doubt. He was helpful so far and your life was peaceful with him around -- which was the one thing you wished for. 

Or maybe it was because you had fallen for him already. 

At least for the first month or so, everything passed through wonderfully. The two of you were like partners in crime, back to back and supportive of the other. The amount times you would stroll through the meadows and just talk to the man was becoming countless. It began to be something you were looking forward to: to have the time to get to know him even better, from his family to the simplest of facts about him. 

It was too good to be true. As the saying goes, nothing lasts forever. 

You should have never lowered your guard down. Not when you were found laying on the grimy grounds of a domain, beaten and bloodied. Not when the man you supposedly loved was towering in front of you, his deep blue eyes glowering in lust for violence. Not when your peaceful life was shattered to pieces. Childe couldn't control it any longer that day. He wanted to battle you out, to cause chaos and havoc. Why? You didn't understand... he was your friend. This wasn't what friends do. Nonetheless, he was serious about this declaration. 

He spat at the ground, annoyed you didn't put up a greater fight. Not at all worried about your wounds, he paced around the chamber, pulling at his messy locks. "Didn't I say you had potential?! You should've tried harder."

You soon lost consciousness, too exhausted and pained to do anything else. The next time you awoken, you were in Mondstadt, getting healed by Barbara. Tartaglia was no where to be seen, as he ran off earlier without telling anyone of his whereabouts. That was the last time you saw him for a while...

Everything that happened was the past, occurring a few months ago. And here you were, in the present, back to the same life you had before meeting Childe. You still disliked the same things, whether that'd be fighting, unpredictable people, or your job. Day after day, you worked to gain money for a living, hating every moment of it. It was so normal that sometimes you wondered if you may have imagined the certain Fatui man up.

Walking through the mountainous parts of Liyue, you were on a hunt for resources. Hoping to stumble upon a mine and get done with the work as soon as possible, it was unfortunate that the weather hated you.

Droplets fell from the sky and the clouds darkened the world. Rain thrummed against the earth, soaking your clothes within a few minutes. They stuck to your skin, turning uncomfortable and cold. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you quickened your pace, desperate to find shelter for the time being. Shit, shit, shit. You hated the life of an adventurer so much--

Too blurry to watch where you were going, you hit a hard surface in front of you. Rather than a hard surface, it was actually a person. Squinting and wiping the droplets from your eyes, you cringed when you saw who it was. It was the one and only Childe, looking the same as always.

Wet orange locks somehow making him more attractive than he already was, he was as soaked as you were. The clothes defined his body and you frantically stopped yourself staring at it any further. 

"[Y/N]," he breathed out, looking unsure. The sound of his voice snapped you back to life and fury filled the pits of your stomach. Seething in spot, the hands at your sides clenched tightly. He had taken your trust and ruined it -- he was nothing but a fucking bastard. 

He took a few steps forward, growing nearer, his blue beautiful hues full of regret. You hated that he dared show himself up, wearing that damn look as if you would ever forgive him. Pulling your hand back without thinking, you laid it across his cheek, harsh at the contact. He touched his red cheek in awe, lowering his head in shame. 

"I deserved that," he whispered, smiling at you sadly.

"You do," you muttered. 

Despite how angry you were at him, there was this twisted desire to kiss him. Feelings were confusing, always making a situation more complicated than it should be. 

Leaning forward, you locked lips with his. His body had stiffened in bewilderment, but he soon returned the kiss, wrapping his steady arms around yourself. Digging your fingers into his hair, you sighed in between breaths and listened to your racing heart. He tasted like salt and the soil beneath you. He was the definition of unpredictable, but you couldn't get enough of him. He brought destruction in the paths he walked on and had the continuous yearning for war. He was everything you were not and you hated him for it. 

His lips trailed away from your own, peppering kisses on your jawline, causing you to gulp. He was swallowing you whole, taking in everything about you to memorize. His touch was intoxicating, the finger tips leaving a mark on your tender skin. "Let's never see each other again after this," you told him. He didn't respond as he continued to bruise your neck. "I hate you, Childe. I fucking hate you, you bastard."

Tears welled out of your eyes, mixing together with the tears from the gods, unable to be distinguished. 

He lifted his head and gave you one last long kiss. Your insides were this close to bursting, butterflies fluttering horrendously like a beast within you. Soft lashes flitted and he stared at you with understanding. He was going to listen to your wish; he would never show himself up again. 

[khaleesiofalicante]

LIGHTWOOD BANES WEEK - MAGNUS & RAFAEL

“Ready?”

Magnus looked up from the vanity table and put down his eyeliner.

“Like my new shoes?” his son grinned as he tapped the Gucci sneakers like Dorothy and her heels.

Magnus grinned in approval.

“Let’s go!” Rafe came closer and started jumping up and down as he pulled on Magnus’ arm. “Portal! Portal! Portal!”

Magnus gave him a smile. “How about we walk to the institute today, my coconut?”

Rafael stopped jumping abruptly.

“I’m not a coconut,” he pointed out sourly.

“Alright, I’ll think of another fiber rich fruit,” Magnus chuckled. “But let’s walk today, yes? The weather seems brilliant.”

Rafael looked out of the window and then back at Magnus, arching his dark eyebrows as if to say, ‘since when did you care about the weather?’.

“So, no portal?” Rafael asked.

“Not today,” Magnus replied.

Rafael looked down at his new shoes. “Okay.”

Magnus hated disappointing his son. Rafael loved magic – sometimes even more so than Max. This meant he enjoyed portals too.

Magnus would split the sky open for his son. Making a measly portal was no big deal.

He could have just done it simply. But today was not that day.

“Go pick up your bow,” Magnus urged him gently.

Rafael pouted and ran away without another word.

Magnus put on his jewelry and picked up his tote bag. He was hoping to drop Rafael off at the institute to train with the other children – something Magnus didn’t really approve of since Rafael was just past twelve.  

He didn’t need to learn how to fight. He was a child.

Rafael was his baby.

But Rafael was also a shadowhunter – one of the angel’s chosen.

Magnus sighed inwardly – since it was a fact, he had to make peace with – and walked towards the living room.

“Let’s go, strawberry!”

But Rafael was not near the door where he usually stood when Magnus made the portal for them. Magnus walked towards Rafael’s bedroom to find his son on the floor.

“I sprained my leg,” Rafael said apologetically. “We’ll have to take a portal.”

Magnus gave him an amused glance.

“Well, if you are hurt then you shouldn’t be training,” Magnus pointed out.

“But we are throwing spears today,” Rafael protested. “I want to practice!”

“Alright then, use an iratze,” Magnus said. “It should heal quickly. Then we can walk merrily to the institute where they teach little children how to throw spears.”

“Uh, I can’t,” Rafael said now. “I lost my stele.”

He was a horrible liar. Much like Alec.

Max on the other hand…Magnus would have to keep an eye on that one.

“Rafael,” Magnus said warningly.

“I swear on Uncle Jace,” Rafael said, and Magnus bit his lip to keep himself from laughing. “I lost my stele.”

Magnus crossed his arms.

“I can ask Aunt Clary to heal it when I get to the institute,” Rafael pointed out. “Let’s go. Make the portal.”

Well, two can play at that game.

Magnus flicked his wrist, and a wave of blue smoke went through Rafael’s ankle. It wasn’t real magic of course. Just smoke.

“There, I fixed your ankle,” Magnus said. “Now, let’s go.”

Rafael stood up indignantly. “But what about my new shoes! I don’t want them to get all muddy.”

“It hasn’t rain in over a month!” Magnus put his arms up in frustration. “We are walking.”

“Fine, then I’m not going,” Rafael kicked off his shoes and flopped back on his bed and covered his face with a pillow.

Rafael was a quiet and timid child. But he could really be dramatic when he wanted to. Magnus had no idea where he got this from. Probably some shadowhunter at the institute.

“Rafael,” he called gently. “Why do you not want to walk to the institute?”

Magnus had noticed this initially over a month ago.

Rafael had insisted that he could the subway on his own. The institute wasn’t far away. He had wanted to commute on his own.

Magnus wasn’t really thrilled by this sudden show of bravado.

Firstly, he couldn’t come to terms with the fact that his baby was growing up.

Secondly, he might have excused the demon butt kicking. But he wasn’t going to allow his son to go on the New York subway alone.

But then Alec had interfered and of course as always had won the argument with “reason” and “logic”.

So, Rafael started to take the subway and travel to the institute by himself.

Just two days a week.

On the other days, he went with Alec or Magnus.

Rafael had only been out on his own for a couple of weeks before he had started to make all sorts of excuses for not wanting to go alone.

He would ask Alec to come to the institute with him. And of course, the insistence for portals had started.

Magnus knew Rafael loved portal travel. But he wasn’t spoilt or anything. Actually, the boy enjoyed walking, mostly because he got to stop and pet a stranger’s dog.

So, Magnus found it a little odd that Rafael’s insistence on walking alone had disappeared just like that.

He knew there was more to the story and he was going to find out.

He sat down next to Rafael gingerly and knocked on the pillow.

“Knock knock,” he said.

“Nobody’s home,” Rafael said in a muffled voice, still stubbornly clutching the pillow over his face.

“Come on. Play along,” Magnus urged and taped on the pillow again. “Knock knock!”

Rafael sighed dramatically. “Who’s there?”

“Wire.”

“Wire who?”

“Wire you lying to me?”

Rafael removed the pillow off his face.

“You’re not as clever as you think you are,” Rafael pointed out.

“Lies!” Magnus said in an offended tone. “You said your father is the smartest person you know.”

“Well, I have two fathers so…”

Magnus gasped offensively.

Rafael’s mouth twitched, just a little. Anyone who didn’t know him would have missed it.

But Magnus knew him. He knew him better than anyone.

“Wounded prides and treacherous betrayals aside,” Magnus gently removed the pillow and threw it away before Rafael can hide again. “Do you want to talk about what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Rafael said, lying back slowly.

“Then why do you not want to walk alone?”

“Just cause,” Rafael shrugged.

“Did…Did something happen?” Magnus asked tentatively. “In the subway?”

“Nothing serious,” Rafael said.

Magnus’ heart, which was always steady, started beating faster.

“I’d still like to know if that’s okay with you,” Magnus said gently, not wanting to push the boy.

Rafael was quiet.

“Rafael,” Magnus said softly. “When we found you, I promised that I will always protect you. I need to live up to that promise. Please tell me what happened.”

Rafael sat up on the bed and crossed his legs. “There were some boys in the subway.”

Magnus nodded, gently urging him to go on.

“I didn’t glamour myself cause you know I don’t like to,” Rafael pointed out.

Magnus did know that. Magnus never actually glamored himself either – not unless it was absolutely necessary. Magnus didn’t want to hide because there was nothing to be ashamed of.

Rafael didn’t either.

Rafael took after him in so many ways - including his love for fashion. But this was one of those ways that made Magnus’ heart swell with pride.

“Anyway, I was careful,” Rafael continued. “I made sure my bow was hidden and nothing was visible. But then these boys…They made fun of me.”

“Because of your runes?” Magnus asked.

“Because of what was underneath the runes.”

Magnus muttered a curse underneath his breath – thankfully he spoke many languages Rafe didn’t understand.

He knew that he was supposed to act rational. To be calm and assess the situation. He was the high warlock of Brooklyn and he has handled worse situations.

But he wasn’t the high warlock right now. He was just Rafael’s father.

Anger boiled through his veins and Magnus felt his magic surge.

“Who are these boys?” Magnus demanded. “Where did you see them?”

Rafael looked at him then, his brown eyes sad. “Does it really make a difference, Bapa?”

And Magnus’ heart broke.

No. It didn’t. It didn’t make a difference.

“They were saying something about a wall and how I should go back to where I’m from,” Rafael said, his voice low. “I put my earphones on after that.”

“Was this a one-time thing?” Magnus asked.

“In the institute, nobody ever said anything about being me a Latino. Or about the others. They don’t really care I think. And when we are out…Well, I’m always with you and dad so I never really noticed. But the moment I was alone…They never say anything when I'm with you or dad. That’s why I kept asking you to come with me. Or take a portal.”

“We can come with you for as long as you want,” Magnus promised.  

“But you shouldn't have to. Not for this,” Rafael sounded angry. “I don’t think it was a one time thing, Bapa. I just think I never noticed. And now that I have…I don’t think I will ever stop noticing.”

Magnus had put a thousand charms – and more – on Rafael’s bow. He had put spell after spell on the sapphire necklace his son wore. He had taken every precaution he could think to protect his son from any and every demon that lurked in the shadows.

But Magnus hadn’t thought about the demons that lurked during daylight. Demons that didn’t attack the body – but the ones that clawed at your heart.

Magnus couldn’t protect Rafael from these creatures every day. But he could protect him right now. He led out his hands until Rafael leaned his head on Magnus’ shoulder.

“It’s not fair,” Rafael said. “I can’t help how I look.”

“I know, my darling,” Magnus caressed his hair gently. “I know.”

“Have people always been this awful?” Rafael asked.

Magnus, who had lived through centuries of persecution and discrimination, could have simply lied. He could lie to make his son feel better.

But he knew the lies wouldn’t prepare him for the world that was waiting out there.

“Do you remember, Bapa?” Rafael looked up and asked now. “Do you remember when Max was 7 and he wanted to look like the rest of us? He wanted to not be blue for one day?”

Magnus did. Alec had talk to Max that day, that a little blue never hurt anybody. It hadn’t convinced Max of course. But the party with a dozen multi cultured warlocks had kind of helped.

“I think Max has it better,” Rafael said now. “I wish I was blue or yellow or green.”

“You are what you are,” Magnus said. “And what you are is a beautiful boy.”

Rafael just mumbled something.

“Rafe,” Magnus took his hand. “Max is a downworlder. He will have his fair share of ass…hats to deal with.”

“Not on my watch,” Raphael said menacingly.

Magnus smiled. “You could consider glamouring yourself. You don’t have to do everything I do.”

“Not everything, no,” Rafe agreed. “But this…I can’t not do this. I want to be like you. Proud. Confident. But it’s…I don’t know it’s hard when they keep staring at me like that. Like I don’t belong here.”

“People will always stare,” Magnus said gently and dangled the bagles in his hand. “So might as well give them something to stare at, huh?”

Rafael gave him a weak smile. Magnus sighed.

“Alright then,” Magnus said. “I will make you a portal. Today. Every day. Whenever you want. You don’t have to take the subway.”

“I don’t want to take the portal,” Rafael said. “I don’t want to bother you.”

“Darling, you do know your father is the high warlock of Brooklyn, right?” Magnus chuckled. “It’s no bother.”

“I don’t want to take the portal,” Rafael simply repeated. “I like taking the subway.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. It kinda smells sometimes and then there are people who sing weird butt songs, but I like it,” Rafael said. “There is this lady. An abuela called Maria. I see her sometimes with her dog Globo.”

“Globo?” Magnus chuckled.

“He is so sweet, and she lets me pet him. I sometimes even buy treats for him with my allowance, ” Rafael confessed. “I like seeing Abuela Maria. I love seeing Globo. I don’t wanna miss that.”

“That’s fair enough,” Magnus nodded.

“Abuela Maria…She came to New York when she was 12. She is so old now. She has been here for year. And those boys…They sometimes make jokes about her too. She doesn’t speak much English but I think she understands. She doesn’t have earphones like I do though. So, she has to listen to everything they say.”

Magnus didn’t say anything. Just quietly offered his hand to Rafael.

His son took it gently and examined it carefully. Rafael had always loved the way Magnus painted his nails. Magnus had often wondered if Rafael would want to paint his own when he grew up.

But now…Now Magnus worried Rafael might never paint his nails even if he wanted to.

The world could sometimes be a cruel place. Magnus has always believed that the world should always have more color – and some glitter too.

But some people preferred to keep things black and white.

It was hard navigating a world like this. Magnus looked at his son.

Rafael looked sad. He looked angry. Worried. Frustrated.

And scared.

Magnus had felt all those things long ago too. But he had found his way through.

He had found his way through the maze and reminded himself who he was and he shouldn’t promise himself for anyone.

It had taken him a long time but he had got there eventually.

But the thing was…Rafael didn’t have that kind of time.

He was a shadowhunter. A mortal.

Magnus thought about Abuela Maria – and all the men and women she must have met during her life who must have made her feel different – when she was just another person in New York with a weirdly named dog.

Magnus didn’t want Rafael to spend his years living in shame and worry.

No. That is not the world Alec and Magnus had promised each other to build for their children and all the rest.

“Bapak,” Rafael said softly. “Is it always going to be like this?”

“It won’t be. I’d like to think so,” Magnus said quietly. “I’ve lived a long time, Rafe. There have been shadowhunters who have thrown away plates cause I touched them.”

“They what?” Rafael’s voice rose, his own pain immediately forgotten.

“The point is…We can’t change people,” Magnus said carefully. “But we can change systems. We can break old ones. We can build new ones. I’ve been hunted by shadowhunters. But I’ve also fought alongside shadowhunters. Fell in love with one. I’ve seen them change the law. I’ve seen them fight for my people. So, no. It’s not always going to be like this. It won’t happen overnight and it’s going to take a lot of effort and pain. But it won’t always be like this. I promise you that.”

“Well, I won’t be around to see it,” Rafael muttered.

“Yeah but your kids might,” Magnus winked.

“Gross,” Rafe made a face.

Magnus pulled him closer and kissed him on the top of his head.

“Do you think it would have been different?” Rafael asked, his face hidden in the crook of Magnus’ neck. “If I was in Buenos Aires?”

Magnus thought about it for a moment. Rafael living far away from him. The possibility pained him.

He had already lost one Raphael. He wasn’t ready to lose another.

Not to anyone. Certainly not to some ignorant bigots who lacked empathy and respect. 

“Possibly,” Magnus said with caution. “But it’s like you said. It doesn’t matter where you are. When you are different, people always make sure to point out. While no one in Buenos Aires might bully you for being a Latino, they might bully you for other things.”

“But why?” the child asked, still oblivious to the way the world worked.

Magnus wished he could be that way forever.

But no.

They all had to grow up eventually.

“Because of power,” Magnus explained. “Power is never distributed equally. So, when some people have more power than others, they abuse that power.”

“Like shadowhunters and downworlders,” Rafael bit his lip.

Magnus wasn’t particularly think of that example.

“Yes,” Magnus nodded. “Exactly like that. Sometimes shadowhunters abuse the power they have. Downworlders can do that too.”

“I don’t want power,” Rafael said.

“Sometimes we have power whether we want it or not,” Magnus pointed out.

“What do I do with it?” Rafael asked.

“Well, you try not to hurt other people with it,” Magnus said. “You try not to hurt yourself with it.”

“I’ll try,” Rafael promised. “What about…What about the bullies?”

“Well,” Magnus said. “What do you wanna do about it?”

“I don’t want to hide,” Rafael said, determination settling on his shoulders. “This is my country too.”

“Yes, it is,” Magnus kissed him on the head again.

“What do I do then?” Rafael asked.

“You do what you were born to do,” Magnus smiled. “You fight.”

“Like with my bow and arrow?” Rafael giggled.

“We’ll save that for the other demons,” Magnus winked. “But you fight in whatever way you can. This kind of thing…There is no one way to fight racism – or any kind of discrimination. We all fight it differently.”

“Like dad,” Rafael’s eyes gleamed. “He changed the laws!”

“Exactly,” Magnus beamed back. “You don’t have to change laws. Not unless you want to. No fight is less important than the other.”

“I want to fight for people who can’t fight for themselves,” Rafael said. “Like Abuela Maria – and Globo. I can maybe buy her noise cancelling earphones. I can fight for her.”

Magnus’ eyes almost watered at that. He was so much Alec – in so many ways. When he looked at Rafael now, Magnus realized he is never going to lose Alec. Not really.

“Then fight, my darling,” Magnus gave one last kiss on the ahead. “Fight like your dad.”

“And like my Bapak,” Rafe smiled and booped Magnus on the nose.

“He is the smartest person you know, right?” Magnus winked.

“Eh,” Rafael shrugged and Magnus feigned offense.

“But he is the bravest person I know,” Rafael pointed out shyly, but with enough pride to warm Magnus’ heart.

Magnus jumped off the bed and led out his hands. “All this talk about our wonderful public transportation system has me suddenly missing the subway. I think I should go for a ride.”

Rafael picked up his bow and reached out to hold Magnus’ hand. “Let’s go together.”

[procrastinatingsapphictrash]

Creative planning

Word count: 2144     

Genre: I think a bit of angst mixed with fluff???

Pairing: Natasha x gn!reader 

Warnings: Swearing but not much and in a friendly way (let me know if I need to add more)

Request: Can u do natasha x reader where natasha fall in love with the reader because they always have stupid atypical plans that always work. And at first none of the avengers believer that the plan will work but it actually work. That’s it!

Summary: Reader always has creative plans for missions that always work and Nat seems like she doesn’t like them except she actually does and is just bad at feelings.

A/n: So this was requested by @fayhar so I hope you like it but if I’m honest I didn’t follow the request exactly so I’m sorry about that, but I hope you like it anyways. Also sorry this is a few days later than I said but I procrastinated but I’m writing a lot now so hopefully all other requests will be out soon.

You glance around at the rest of the team, biting your lip when all you can see is frustrated faces. It’s your first time making a big suggestion and it is not going over nearly as well as you had hoped. You thought your plan was pretty solid, albeit weird, but the team doesn’t seem to agree. 

“We need a real plan, not the plot of some animated action movie meant for kids.” Tony says, his annoyance coming through with his voice. 

Clint shoots Tony a look and softly says, “Y/n, I know you’re trying to help but Tony is right, this doesn’t seem realistic.”

“I agree,” Natasha interjects, “anyone have any more viable plans?” The room is silent after that and you can tell everyone is thinking hard. You’re trying to help as well but your mind is consumed with doubt. Although it wasn’t the most conventional plan, you really thought it could work but they thought it childish. Clint was the nicest to you about it but that’s only because he saw you as a kid he had to protect. You loved being a part of the team but sometimes it was hard to prove yourself when you were both the youngest and newest avenger. You rack your brains trying to come up with a new plan but your mind keeps getting stuck on what you already came up with. It was different from what the team normally did for sure, but you just knew it could work. 

“I know you shot it down already but please consider what I’ve suggested,” you speak up, “it’s different but I think it will work. Besides it’s not like anyone else has any great ideas.” 

While they don’t seem to accept your plan right away this time they seem to give a little more thought. Wanda whispers something to Steve and you can see Natasha and Clint exchange looks. 

Finally Steve speaks up. “Y/n is right, maybe not about the plan but we don’t have any other ideas. I think this is our best change against Hydra for now.” 

“Hydra is a formidable enemy whose goal is to control the world and you expect us to follow a plan that is completely ridiculous.” Natasha argues harshly. You struggle not to let any emotion show because you knew you had to appear strong but what Natasha thinks means a lot to you, so it hurt she had absolutely no confidence in your plan. You have always admired her a lot and if you were to be truthful you’ve always had a little bit of a crush on her.

“This plan does seem a little out there,” Wanda interjects, “but maybe that’s what we need for this mission, Hydra won’t be able to predict it.” 

“Ok,” Tony agrees, “what the hell, let's do it.” 

Fifteen exhausting hours later and you were all on a jet heading back to the compound. Even though it had been one of the hardest and most tiring missions you had been on to date you couldn’t help but smile at the fact that you were the one that helped the team out. 

“Good job Y/n!” Steve praises seeing your grin so you smile back even harder and go to respond when you hear a scoff from the other side of the jet. Natasha is sitting there and although her face betrays nothing, everyone who heard knows it’s her. You don’t know why she hates your plan even though it worked but although it bothers you, you try to brush it off, as Steve squeezes your shoulder in silent support. Even when Natasha exits the jet and heads straight to her room without a word to anybody you manage to keep a smile while talking with a few of the other avengers before you get too exhausted and decide to call it a night. 

As you lie in your bed after you showered and were drifting off you think about the day. You understood the lack of confidence in your crazy plan at first but you finally feel like you proved yourself and showed why you were asked to join the avengers. You also question Natasha’s dismissal of your success but you can never tell what she’s thinking so you brush that aside and fall into a peaceful sleep, optimistic about what is to come. 

---

“Hey Y/n can you look over the plans for the next raid?” Tony asks, shoving some papers in your hands as you walk past him in the hall. 

“Of course!” You respond cheerfully, taking the papers and continuing to make your way into the common room. It had been around ten months since you had first helped create a plan and ever since then the other had been turning to you for help with stuff like this and you became known for coming up with the craziest ideas that always ended up working. 

When you got to the common room you plopped yourself on the couch and started brainstorming beside the only other occupant of the room, Natasha. Out of all the avengers you were still slightly wary of her. You admired her a lot (not to mention kinda wanted to kiss her) but although she didn’t seem to hate your plans as much as she first did she didn’t seem to like them either. You did your best to impress her especially when she would help train you but sometimes it got discouraging because she never seemed to care that much. She was also the only avenger you didn’t consider yourself friends with, which is why you were fairly surprised when she spoke up. 

“What are you working on?”

“I’m just reviewing the mission plans for our raid of the Hydra base in a few days, Tony did a pretty good job though, so I won’t change much.” You respond honestly. 

“None of your weird ideas?” She asks. 

“Probably not, don’t worry,” you say laughing slightly although you don’t feel like it, “I’m just going to see if Steve has any ideas, see you later.” You leave the room in a bit of a rush, making sure you have all the plans. Natasha watches you go with a frown. She can tell she offended you when she asked that but she was just meaning to tease because although she was skeptical at first, she now really loves your plans. 

While she unhappily stares into the hallway you left through, she feels a tap on her shoulder and turns around to see Clint hanging upside down from the vent. 

“What’s wrong Nat?” He asks. 

“Y/n thinks I hate her. Or at least that I think she’s stupid.”

Clint laughs. “Once she gets to know you I’m sure that will change. Remember how long it took for the others to warm up to you?”

“But I like her and I want her to like me now!” Natasha replies in a tone that has a small whine to it. 

“So you like her, no biggie,” Clint says, “eventually you’ll become friends. WAIT-do you mean you like her, like you want to date her?” Natasha doesn’t respond and instead just nods, looking away from Clint. 

“You know it may seem complicated but just be nice to her and give her compliments out loud instead of in your head.” Clint advises.

“You know I think that’s the only helpful thing you’ve ever told me,” Natasha jokes, wanting to change the topic, “when did you get so good at this?”

“Well I do have a wife after all,” Clint answers, “maybe you should trust me on this.”

The past month has been confusing to say the least. You brush your hair in the mirror, wanting to look presentable for when you were having dinner with Natasha later because she randomly asked you to. It isn’t a date or anything, in fact you don’t know why you’re doing this because all she said is that she wanted to talk to you, but the idea of eating dinner along with her makes you nervous. This was the first time the two of you were going to do something without any of the others. At first she didn’t seem to like you at all but recently you noticed a huge change in the way Natasha was acting towards you. She seemed to actively seek you out to spend time together and started complimenting you more, especially on your ideas relating to avengers missions. You take a glance at your watch and decide to head down to the kitchen to meet up with Nat. The whole way down you can feel your entire body almost shaking with nerves but you push it aside. 

“Hey Y/n,” Natasha says softly upon your entry, “I made us some pasta, I hope you don’t mind.” 

“I’ll never turn down pasta.” You respond while smiling and grabbing a plate. 

“Great,” she says, looking a little relieved, “Are you good to just eat at the counter?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I, I’m not the queen.” You answer her, laughing slightly. She mumbles something under her breath but you can’t hear it properly. 

“What was that Tasha?” You ask her. 

“Nothing.” You look down at your food and both of you lapse into silence. Neither of you speak for what feels like an hour but was probably closer to ten minutes before you start to get a little annoyed. 

“Are you going to speak?” She stares at you and doesn’t answer. “Well are you? Because you said you wanted to talk to me but now that I’m here you don’t say anything. Not to mention I can’t even tell if you like me or not.” She seems surprised by your outburst but you can’t find it within yourself to care. It was all true you had no clue what she thought about you with her acting cold towards, then suddenly switching to being nice and as much as you liked her you would much rather just know what she thought than be constantly confused. 

“I do like you.” She says after a few moments of very awkward silence. “I just don’t know how to talk to you properly.”

“You didn’t know how to talk to me???” You ask, completely shocked. 

“Yes,” she replies honestly, “at first I just didn’t talk to you because I didn’t like you-”

“Ouch.” You interrupt and she rolls her eyes at you. 

“Anyways as I was saying,” she takes a pause to playfully glare at you, “the reason why I didn’t like you was because unlike everybody else you were unpredictable and I don’t like not being in control. You are just so different from people I’m used to-I mean this in a good way, like how you always have super creative plans.”

“Oh wow that’s not what I was expecting at all,” you tell her, “I just thought you hated me.” She nods looking remorseful. 

“Sorry, at the very start I may have but honestly that’s the last impression I wanted you to have of me. If you can’t tell recently I’ve been trying harder to be more open.”

“I have noticed actually and although I was a bit confused by the sudden change it was nice.” Natasha smiles at that and sits up a little taller before shrinking back down and biting her lip.

“For the sake of honesty, there was another reason I didn’t like you much,” she pauses to take a deep breath, “you made me feel things, things I can usually control.” You can’t believe what you are hearing right now and think you must be dreaming because unless you are interpreting things very wrongly it sounds like Natasha is confessing feelings for you. 

“Tasha,” you say slowly, “you have feelings for me?” She nods and you can’t even begin to process it. You must have been silent for too long because she stands up and starts to move away. 

“I’m sorry Y/n, we can drop it if you want just please say something.” 

“No, we are not dropping this,” you say seriously, watching Natasha’s face drop as you inwardly smirk, “at least not until you take me on a date first.” 

“You’re an asshole.” Natasha deadpans before coming over to hug you. “I will definitely take you on many dates.” 

She’s true to her word and two days later you find yourselves cuddled in your bed after having dinner at a restaurant. She’s spooning you, pressed up against your back and you can tell by her breathing that she’s almost asleep. 

“So you like my plans?” You ask cheekily, remembering your conversation from last night. 

“I love your plans,” She responds before planting a kiss to the top of your head that nearly makes your heart melt of happiness, “even if you are an asshole sometimes.”

[lunar-wandering]

Impersonate - Chapter 2

i did not expect you guys to jump on this AU like this but. your energy gives me energy so. here’s chapter 2 for the Doppelganger AU fanfic.

read on ao3

-

MK, surprisingly, was the first person awake in the morning. He could tell he was the first one awake mainly by the fact that he couldn't hear anybody else moving around, Pigsy would always start making breakfast, Sandy would make tea, so on and so forth. The silence meant he was the only one awake.

Usually, MK would just go back to sleep, and wake up again later, once everyone else was awake.

One glance at the clock showed that it would be pointless for him to do that anyways, Pigsy or Sandy would probably be awake soon, so it didn't matter.

MK figured he might as well head out into the kitchen to wait, instead of sit in his room with nothing to do.

...Which was how he found Macaque, sound asleep, head resting on the kitchen table.

For a moment MK paused, unsure of how to proceed. He still didn't exactly trust Macaque, though the shadow monkey had yet to do anything other than pretend to be Wukong.

....MK was going to opt to just ignore him, when he suddenly heard movement coming from one of the other rooms.

This, of course, typically wouldn't be a problem, it meant that somebody else was awake, and that MK would soon have somebody to talk to. However, Macaque was asleep. Which meant his glamors where down, very much revealing him to not be the Monkey King.

MK had promised that he wouldn't let the others find out, and he wasn't exactly one for breaking promises.

One of Macaque's ears twitched, (and MK mentally noted that- he was absolutely going to bring up the real six ears thing later-), and for a moment MK hoped that the sound of someone moving had been enough to wake him up.

But other than the ear twitch, Macaque didn't move, and no glamors went up.

...Shit. Looks like MK was on his own for this one then.

He debated whether or not he should just wake Macaque up himself, but he knew, for a fact, that Macaque hadn't been sleeping well. He was using a glamor to hide it, but MK recognized the tired motions, as much as Macaque had tried to cover it up. (The reason MK could recognize it at all is because he'd gone through some sleepless nights himself, but that was a problem for a later date.)

MK couldn't find it in himself to interrupt Macaque's rest.

But he was going to come up with a solution quick, as he could hear a door slide open.

MK did the first thing he could think of and grabbed a nearby blanket, throwing it over top of Macaque, effectively hiding him from view.

Just in time for Sandy to walk into the kitchen.

"Ah, MK, normally don't see you up this early. Everything okay?" He asked, and upon receiving a hurried nod in response, turned his attention to the other person in the room. "..Who's under the blanket?"

"Ma- Monkey King is!" MK hastily corrected himself, "I think he uh. Must've stayed up all night or something."

-

Macaque had, in fact, stayed up all night.

He'd been restless, MK knew now, he had no idea what the kid would do with that knowledge, in fact, it had been rather stupid and careless for Macaque to have volunteer the information so freely. But Macaque had been, well, slightly sleep deprived for a while, so maybe a few slips made sense-

But still. He had no idea if MK would actually hold true to his word on not telling anyone else. He was sure the kid had a rule about promises, most hero-types tended to after all, but did that rule extend to villains?

Macaque wasn't sure.

He had no idea he had even fallen asleep until he'd woken up. At first he panicked, wanting to shoot upright, but held back upon sensing something over top of his head. For a moment, in his half awake state, he wondered if he'd been captured again- but then his senses came back to him, and he realized that it was just a blanket. A very soft blanket at that, and Macaque almost wanted to fall back asleep-

"Who's under the blanket?"

Macaque tensed. In his brief panic, he had completely forgotten that something must've woken him up.

"Ma- Monkey King is!"

Oh wow was the kid bad at lying. He'd have to give Wukong a piece of his mind the next time he saw him, really, not even teaching the kid the most basic of basics- being able to fool your opponent could be a life saver in the right situation.

....He could teach the kid himself-

Macaque squashed that thought before it could even fully form.

As it was though. MK and Sandy were obviously both in the kitchen. A quick check and he could hear Pigsy, Tang, and Mei still in their rooms, sleeping peacefully.

He tuned back in to Sandy and MK, and found that MK was rambling, stumbling over his words, trying to explain why 'Sun Wukong' was sleeping at the kitchen table, with a blanket covering him. It was starting to get to the point where it just sounded ridiculous, and Macaque sighed. He'd have to take this into his own hands apparently.

Casting an glamor over his head, (he was too tired to do his whole body, besides, the blanket would cover most of him so long as he was careful), Macaque sat up.

"...Shut up." He muttered, effectively quieting the kid. "It's far too early for this."

Not exactly a lie, he was tired.

"Ah, sorry, did we wake you up?" Sandy asked.

"Yes." Macaque hissed, before catching himself. "Uh, I mean, it's fine. Doesn't matter. I would've woken up soon anyways."

That was a lie, with the way he was feeling right now, he probably would've slept through the whole day without intervention.

Sandy hummed in response, setting a kettle onto the stove, and pulling some tea and coffee out of the cupboard.

"How do you like your coffee, Macaque?" He asked.

"Black- wait." Macaque paused, as the whole sentence registered in his head, and he could hear MK quietly gasp. "Wait. How did you-"

"It wasn't all that hard." Sandy said, sitting down across from him at the table. "Unlike the others, I do know Monkey King."

"No no no, I need, I need you to tell me where I slipped up, how I made it obvious-" Macaque vaguely was aware he was rambling, but he felt the situation warranted it. "Seriously, tell me right now so I can fix it right now, I can't let anyone else find out- it's bad enough that I told MK-"

"Should I be offended by that?" MK asked, interrupting Macaque's rambling. "I feel like I should be offended by that."

"Shush, kid, the ancient demons are talking." Macaque said, which turned out to be a mistake.

"Ancient demo- what do you mean 'ancient demons'?" MK asked, turning to look at Sandy. "What- what does he mean by ancient demons???"

Sandy said nothing, whistling innocently, and Macaque sighed, letting his glamor fall down, (although he kept the one on his ears and his scar),  as he rested his head on the table.

Fuck, he was too tired for this.

"He's Sha Wujing." Macaque mumbled, "Wukong's brother."

"What?!"

Macaque tuned out MK and Sandy's conversation from there, he honestly didn't really care about it.

What he was more concerned about was the fact that Sandy had figured him out. If he had figured him out, did that mean the others had too? What where they going to do about it? Where they just waiting for him to slip up again, so that they would have an excuse to kick him out? He didn't quite fancy being on his own when the Lady Bone Demon was out there, still doing her creepy thing. He wasn't exactly keen on getting captured again.

Macaque was brought out of his thoughts when a cup of coffee was carefully set down beside him.

"You don't need to worry about it, by the way." Sandy said, when he saw the look Macaque was giving him. "I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who figured it out, and that's just because I know Monkey King. I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to."

"....Okay. But you're the last person that's going to know about this, okay?" Macaque said, glancing between MK and Sandy. "No one else can know."

-

A few sips of coffee was all Macaque truly needed to perk right back up. Sure, he was still very sleep deprived, but at least now it wasn't going to be as obvious. It gave him enough of a boost to be able to throw on the Wukong glamor entirely.

The others were all awake now, and were, for the most part, ignoring him, just pausing to say hello, as usual, and the way Macaque would like it to stay. Sandy and MK had already found out, he couldn't risk getting too close to the others and slipping up.

"...Weird." He heard Mei's voice say from behind him. "MK, didn't you say that Monkey King didn't like bitter things?"

"Yeah?" MK said, "He doesn't, why are you-"

"Well then why is he drinking black coffee?"

Macaque choked on said black coffee, barely stopping himself from whipping his head around to look at her, his shoulders tensing. Fuck, he hadn't thought of that, he knew for a fact that Wukong liked sweet stuff, how could he have been so stupid-

"Ah, um. I lied about him liking sweet things?" MK said nervously, and okay, Macaque was once again considering actually giving the kid lying lessons.

"No, no, he didn't lie-" Macaque said, turning around in order to face Mei. "-I just recently started drinking it. I don't actually like it, it just gives my morning a bit more of a kick."

As he said this, he took another sip of his coffee, fake-cringing as he did so. Mei raised an eyebrow.

"Suspicious." She muttered.

"No- it's not!" Macaque replied, and Mei shrugged, seemingly moving on.

...Macaque had a feeling this would come back to bite him later.

-

Macaque hid down behind a bush, MK close beside him, sneakingly peaking over top at the scene before them.

The Lady Bone Demon was there.

Or, well, she wasn't there specifically, really, there was just an illusion of her.

But there was a demon, someone Lady Bone Demon had probably turned into her lackey, there. Macaque and MK couldn't afford to be seen.

It was just their luck that they'd run into something like this now.

MK had, earlier, spotted some fruit trees on the ground they were flying over, and had insisted on going to pick some. Recognizing it'd probably strange if Wukong didn't want to go get fruit, Macaque had gone with him.

He was kind of regretting that decision.

"I'm sorry my lady." The demon said, "I can't find him anywhere."

Him? So they were just looking for one person then, but who-

"I still don't understand how you were able to let the Macaque escape." The Lady Bone Demon hissed and oh.

Oh.

Oh no.

Macaque turned to look at MK, who was glancing at him in confusion, before the pieces clicked together in his mind as well. The kid immediately smiled giddily, bouncing a little-

Macaque quickly put a hand on top of MK's head, pushing him down and quickly putting a stop to that.

"Keep your head down." He hissed, "You can be excited later, right now we need to keep from getting ourselves attacked."

So they sat there for a few more moments, and Macaque pointedly pushed all his thoughts on the fact that Wukong had escaped to the back of his mind for now. He could think about that later, right now what was important was getting himself and MK back to the ship safely.

As soon as the demon turned and began to walk in a slightly different direction, Macaque took the chance. He picked MK up, throwing him as well as the fruit they'd gathered over his shoulder, and ran back to the ship, occasionally using the shadows to speed himself up.

He paused before jumping up to the ship, double checking to make sure his Wukong glamour was still on and fully intact. Nothing had happened that would make it break but.... well. Macaque wouldn't exactly say he was never paranoid.

Macaque jumped up onto the ship, setting MK and the fruit down beside him.

Sandy was the only one there to greet them.

"...Where are the others?" Macaque asked.

"Tang said he saw a village that way." Sandy said, pointing in the direction opposite of the one Macaque and MK had just come from. "They went to see if they could get any supplies. You...do remember you don't need to use the Wukong glamour around the two of us right? We already know so-"

"We should probably check in on them soon." Macaque said, purposefully ignoring Sandy's question. "The Lady Bone Demon's lackey is walking around the woods. Wouldn't want them to encounter each other."

"Oh- are you two okay-"

"Monkey King escaped!" MK cheered, and Macaque barely kept himself from startling at the sheer volume of it, covering his ears.

"Oh! Well that's good news then, isn't it?" Sandy said, and MK nodded, jumping up and down.

"....Not necessarily." Macaque muttered, "We still haven't found him yet. You'd think that, if he's free, he would've met up with us, right?"

"Well, the demon was searching around here, so that probably means Monkey King was also around here-" MK started.

"But if he's around here, then why hasn't he come to the ship?" Macaque asked, "I don't know, it seems a bit strange to me."

"You sure you're not just scared of how Monkey King will react when he finds out you're pretending to be him?" MK asked, and Macaque glared at him.

"No, I just. Think it's odd, that's all-" He said, crossing his arms. Sandy lightly patted him on the back, making him stumble.

"Hey, it's okay- maybe he just got a bit lost!" Sandy said, MK nodding along with him in agreement.

"Yeah! And besides, I'm sure he won't react too badly to the fact you're impersonating him, since he did rescue you- and you rescued me." MK said, slinging an arm over Macaque's shoulder. Macaque didn't hesitate to push him off.

"Impersonating implies that I'm enjoying this experience, which I'll have you know I'm not." He said, "Besides, Wukong isn't exactly one to get lost-"

"Oh, I'm sure he's fine, he is the Monkey King after all." Sandy reassured, "Either way, I'm sure we'll find him eventually."

As it would turn out, Wukong would end up finding them first.

[lisbonsteresa]

You’re Once (In Any Lifetime)

🥳 🥳 HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAY( @eddiediaz)!!!!  🥳 🥳  (little late is better than never fingers crossed. a little something for my drew crew bestie who i have never yelled at, cajoled into watching a show, or threatened with a knife emoji. hope you like the...kind of au of the au of the - let’s just call it the 7th generation of an au 😘)

                                 ___

“She’s lingering again.”

“Call a spade a spade Bess.” George grumbled as she entered the kitchen with an armful of dirty dishes. “At this point she’s loitering.”

Nick glanced up from where he was reviewing that month’s order form at the prep table with a slight grin. “Don’t know if you can go that far. I mean she did pay for her dinner.”

“Oh please,” George shot back with a roll of her eyes. “It’s been 45 minutes since she paid her bill and she’s still nursing that iced tea like it’s a long island.” As if she knew they were talking about her, the redhead in the corner booth looked up from her glass and gave a small, unsure smile across the sparsely-seated dining room in their direction. She did not receive any in response.

“What I don’t understand is why she keeps coming here, of all places. I mean it’s not like our food is good.” An offended grunt came from Bess’s right, and she spun around to see the Claw’s cook pressing a burger to the grill with a wounded expression. 

“Oh no, Charlie,” she backtracked frantically, hands held out in a feeble attempt to placate the older man. “I just meant compared to what they must have at the yacht club.” 

Charlie gave a noncommittal shrug, apparently forgiving the unintended slight before moving down the line where he hopefully missed Bess’s whispered  “Or anywhere else…”

“Guys, come on.” Ace cut in, voice calm and measured even as he scrubbed determinedly at a rusting lobster pot. “It’s not like we don’t have other customers keeping us here. What’s so bad about Nancy lingering a bit?” 

“The fact that she’s not just ‘Nancy’, Ace.” George admonished as she tipped her dishes into the full sink in front of him, raising the water level until it sloshed dangerously close to the edge. “She’s Nancy Hudson. You know how the hill-toppers treat us townies -”

“When they’re not wheeling and dealing in back rooms to screw us over while they’re sitting pretty in their ivory towers.” Nick interrupted, his attention still on the sheet in front of him.  

“Exactly.” George gave her boyfriend an appreciative look as she leaned up against the prep table next to him. “And now what, I’m supposed to be happy that one of them deigned to grace us with her presence?” 

“Yes, and I had to take her hill-topper order.” Bess lamented, pouting near the line window until she noticed Nick looking at her with raised eyebrows. “What?”

“You know you’re a hill-topper, right Bess?”

She turned towards him, her expression scandalized and defensive. “That is completely different, Mr. Multimillionaire.” (Nick held his hands up in amused defeat). “I only just became a Marvin; I wasn’t born and raised a hill-topper, unlike some people.” 

“Besides,” she glanced back across the dining room with an insulted wrinkle of her nose, “the Hudsons and Marvins are long-standing enemies; it was humiliating to have to serve one of them.”

“The Hudsons and Marvins, maybe, but not you and Nancy.” Ace countered, leaning the lobster pot against the back of the drying rack before reaching into the increasingly murky water to start on George’s dishes. “You two barely know each other.”

Bess paused, playing with her necklace and staring into space as if considering this fact for the first time. “Well, I guess that’s true…"

“And she’s been spending her gap year here in town volunteering and helping Hannah Gruen set up a scholarship with the Historical Society.” Ace continued with a glance over his shoulder at Nick.

“I mean, that’s great, but -” Nick stopped, eyes narrowing “wait, how do you know that?”

Ace’s hands paused their motions, just for a fraction of a second, before he resumed rinsing a plate and gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Must’ve seen it in the paper somewhere.” He muttered offhandedly. “And -”

“And nothing.” George cut him off, crossing her arms across her chest with a scowl. “A few good deeds don’t change the fact that this time next year she’ll be 300 miles away with a full ride to some Ivy League school just because of her last name, and the rest of us will still be stuck here cleaning grease traps in an old clam shack.” Ace’s shoulders tensed more and more with every word that left her mouth. “And since when did you start defending Hudsons anyway?”

“I’m not defending the Hudsons, I’m defending Na-” Ace spun around to face the room and froze, realizing that his raised voice had turned three sets of interested eyes in his direction. (Well, four, if you counted Charlie.) “I’m not defending anybody.” he continued after a beat. “I’m just saying you can’t help who your family is, and at least she’s trying to be better than hers. It wouldn’t kill you guys to try and see that.” 

No one said anything - this was the most upset any of them had seen Ace get since the time that nor'easter put a tree branch through Florence’s windshield. “Anyway, dishes are done; I’m gonna take my break.”

He tossed the towel that had been slung over his shoulder down onto the counter and stomped down the steps towards the storeroom. The back door slammed shut a moment later, and the others turned back towards the dining room to see that Nancy had at last abandoned her iced tea and was heading towards the exit with the air of someone in a rush trying very hard to appear relaxed.

“So…” Bess began, her eyes flicking back and forth between Nancy’s booth and the door. “when do we tell him we saw them making out by the loading dock last Thursday?”  

“I say we make him sweat for a bit.” George said with a shrug as she straightened and headed out to clear the table. “Serves him right for thinking he could keep something like this from us.” Bess and Nick shared an amused smile behind her, then got back to their own work.

If any of them noticed that Ace arrived back from his break 20 minutes late with his hair in disarray, they kept it to themselves.

                                   _____

“Great. I’m going to be picking seaweed out of my hair for a week. Thanks a lot Bess.”

Bess paused her efforts to wring out her dress to shoot an incredulous look in George’s direction. “I’m sorry, how is this my fault!?”

“It’s my birthday George!” Came the response in a mocking imitation of the Brit’s accent. “Just close for inventory George! It’ll be fun George!” 

“Well excuse me for trying to enjoy a nice beach day!” Bess shot back. “How was I supposed to know we’d be attacked by that kelkey-whatever??”

“Kelpie.” Nick corrected, stopping the bickering for a moment while all three turned their attention towards the redhead kneeling in the sand and frantically running her hands over a soaking wet and slightly dazed Ace. “That’s what you called it, right?”

The second Nancy realized she was being addressed, her hands dropped from Ace’s body like they had been burned. “Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, a kelpie. They’re Scottish horse spirits that drag their victims underwater and devour them. That silver necklace Bess had was its bridle, and -” she paused, looking around to see the others staring blankly at her. 

“Sorry.” Her voice sounded almost sheepish. “I volunteer over at the historical society a lot, and there’s some…interesting stuff in their archives.” Another moment passed. No one’s expression changed.

“…Anyway the bridle can be used to control it, so I think it attacked you to try and get it back. And since you didn’t know what it was, it just seemed easier to grab it and toss it then try and explain why it was making the giant horse spirit angry.” She finished with a weak grin, as if she’d been explaining the weather and not the most terrifying thing most of them had ever seen. 

No one spoke for a while longer, and then Bess’s quiet  “Oh.” broke the silence. “Well…okay. For a second I thought you just really didn’t like my necklace.” 

The tension broken, the others looked at her with varying levels of amusement before she let out a gasp and turned to address Nancy directly. “Wait my cousin Cassidy gave me that last night! You don’t think…”

“I don’t think she knew what it was.” Nancy replied with an almost fond smile. “When the historical society got the request to put the necklace in one its deposit boxes, the record just said it was a Marvin family heirloom; brought over aboard the Governance.”

“And the kelpie followed it all the way here?” Nick asked, eying Nancy sideways as he tried to shake water out of his ear.

She shrugged. “There are some records that say kelpies are bound to follow their bridles, wherever they go. They can’t leave the water though, so it could have gotten into the bay and then…gotten lost, I guess.” Bess was already nodding along as if everything Nancy was saying made perfect sense. “We didn’t realize the necklace was anything out of the ordinary until Cassidy came to request it and Hannah thought she recognized it from her research.”

“Well good thing she did, or this might’ve been Bess’s last birthday.” George smirked. “Never thought I’d say this,” she continued, ignoring her friend’s offended huff and turning towards Nancy, “but I’m glad you were around, Hudson.”

“Thanks.” Nancy sounded like she wasn’t sure whether she should be flattered or insulted by the statement. “I was looking for you guys, actually. When we realized what the necklace was, we called Cassidy and she said she’d given it to you for your birthday, and since you were coming to the beach Hannah and I were worried that getting it too close to the water might -”

“Wait, how did you know we’d be at the beach?” Bess interrupted.

Nancy stilled, her eyes darting over to a still-groggy Ace then back to the others so quickly that they might have missed it had they not been watching her so closely. “I must have overheard it the last time I was at the Claw.” Her voice was measured; almost deliberately calm. “When it’s slow there your voices tend to carry.” 

Bess and Nick gave each other an uneasy sidelong glance at Nancy’s implication, while George’s expression grew into something approaching begrudging respect. “Anyway,” Nancy stood, brushing sand off her pants and looking anywhere but in Ace’s direction, “I should get back to Hannah and let her know everything’s okay. See you around.”

She turned and started heading towards the parking lot, and Ace watched with worried eyes as his friends had a rapid fire non-verbal conversation. Bess nodded towards Nick, who responded with a shrug. They both looked over at Ace with small smiles, then turned to George; Nick with one eyebrow raised in question and Bess with what could only be described as puppy dog eyes. George glanced at Ace before letting out a labored sigh and rolling her eyes as she called down the beach: “Hey Hudson!” 

Nancy turned, hands twisting in the strap of the messenger bag. “You wanna meet us at the Claw after we get cleaned up?” George asked. “We’re closed for inventory - it’d be a good place to talk about all…this.” (Bess cleared her throat pointedly.) “And we have cake for Bess’s birthday.”

The smile that bloomed on Nancy’s face was beaming, even at a distance. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

                                 ______

It had been three weeks since the kelpie incident, and for all intents and purposes, Nancy had settled in as the fifth member of their little group. She and Bess had gotten along almost immediately, despite some awkward encounters when they had run into family while together. 

Nick had warmed to her considerably once she started helping him with his plans for a youth center in town. (It certainly hadn’t hurt that she’d ‘misplaced’ her grandfather’s application for the building on Spring St. until Nick’s bid had already closed). 

And while George and Nancy bickered almost constantly, they (usually) did it with smiles on their faces. If asked, they might not call each other ‘friends’, but they were definitely heading in a good direction. 

The first Friday afternoon of July found them sprawled out across the dining table of Nick’s loft, brainstorming ideas for that year’s ‘Still Summer at the Bayside Claw’ event. (Or rather found most of them. Truth be told, Bess’s focus might have been more on her online shopping.) They’d been working for an hour or so when a noise like the rapid honking of a clown nose suddenly interrupted the conversation.

“Shit,” Ace muttered, grabbing his phone and snoozing the alarm, “I’m going to be late for Shabbat.” He gathered his things in a rush, exchanged a quick “Bye” and kiss with Nancy, then froze. 

His eyes moved rapidly between the others - Nancy’s wide-eyed panic; George’s look of shock and disgust; Nick’s eyebrows shooting up his forehead; Bess’s almost giddy expression - before seeming to make a decision.

“Uh…Nick,” he croaked out before anyone could react any further, making his way over to where his friend was sitting with an air of forced normalcy and kissing him like it was something he did every day. “thank you for having me.”

“See you tomorrow, Bess.” He continued, leaning over and giving her a peck on the cheek, causing a giggle to escape her barely-maintained composure.

He turned towards the other end of the table, eying George the way an antelope might eye a lion. “George -”  

“Don’t even think about it.” She cut him off with a glare.

“Right. ‘Course.” He glanced around the room one last time as he backed towards the door, eyes skipping over Nancy as if he was afraid of what his expression might reveal if he focused at all on her. “Um, have a good night everyone.” And then he was gone, the door slamming behind him as his rapid footsteps echoed down the hallway.

A minute passed in complete silence, then another. 

Nick looked absolutely mystified, his fingers stuck halfway to his lips like he couldn’t quite comprehend what had just happened. George’s grimace was slowly turning into an amused smirk, and Bess looked seconds away from breaking into complete hysterics.

Another minute passed before Nancy, staring at the table with a face almost as red as her hair, broke the silence. “So…how long have you guys known?”

“Since before the kelpie incident.” George answered bluntly, while Nick shook off his daze and turned his attention towards Nancy and Bess took a calming breath and tried to bite back her laughter.

“Oh.” 

Nancy’s eyes darted between the table and the door as if trying to decide if it would be worse to try and explain herself or just cut her losses and run. “Ok, well, we were going to tell you, we just -”

“You can relax Nancy.” Nick cut in, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She flinched at the touch, but finally turned to see an understanding smile on his face. “You wouldn’t be here right now if any of us still had a problem with you.”

Bess nodded rapidly, reaching across the table to cover one of Nancy’s hands with her own. “You make Ace happy, and that’s what really matters to us."

A wobbly smile began to grow on Nancy’s face, before she blinked and turned towards George with apprehension and a bit of challenge in her eyes. 

George’s expression stayed firm until Nick cleared his throat and gave her a pointed look. She sighed and rolled her eyes, but the grin she gave Nancy was genuine.“Plus I guess you’re not horrible.”

That pulled a laugh from Nancy, even as she blinked back touched tears she knew George would make fun of. “Thanks guys. I really appreciate that.”

(To say Ace was confused when she walked into the Claw the next morning and kissed him in the middle of the dining room would be an understatement, but he definitely wasn’t complaining.)

[soldierswar]

Kobik - Chapter VII

Bucky x Reader

Angst

Plot: You, Sam, Bucky, and even Kobik learn that she may be a lot more powerful than anybody thought.

Masterlist (For other chapters)

“Kobik,” you said, and signaled for her to stand behind you.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” one of the three guys barked.

You and Bucky nervously eyed each other from the corners of your eyes. You really wished you brought earpieces.

“What is it that you even want from her?” you hissed.

“Come on. Don’t you know what this thing can do? Spoiler alert, it’s not just little party tricks.”

Kobik held on to you and nervously squeezed your leg.

“Don’t you dare think about touching her,” Bucky said in a low, threatening tone.

You suddenly spotted Sam facing the backs of the men hiding behind a wall of the parking structure. You dared not look at him for longer than half a second so as to not give away his spot and stayed as still as a statue.

Suddenly, Kobik did something that you never would have expected, nor would you have let happen if you had any control. She unwrapped her arms from your legs and stepped towards the meanest of them, outstretching her arms to him so that he could pick her up.

Bucky looked livid.

“Kobik, don’t you dare.”

She looked back at him with innocent eyes and let the man pick her up.

“See?” the man gloated.

“That wasn’t so ha—”

But before he could finish his sentence his whole body lit up into a glowing blue and began convulsing as though he were being electrocuted…Because he was.

She didn’t let go of him until he fell backward and dropped to the floor. All of you stared at the two in shock. You didn’t know that she could do that. Kobik just stared at the man on the ground with a straight face.

“He’s not dead,” she stated in a matter-of-fact tone, as though she was talking about a bug.

Before the other two guys had a chance to retaliate against the three of you they looked like they had been stunned in the back one by one and fell to the ground writhing in pain.

“Neither are they,” she added.

“But I didn’t do that.”

“Well, are you coming or not?” Sam yelled from across the parking lot holding a stun gun waving at you to come to the car in the parking structure. Right before following the direction you realized that Kobik was missing. She was right in front of you a second ago.

“Kobik? Come on before they wake up!” you called out.

But nothing…And then Bucky looked up.

“Kobik! Get down from there!” he yelled.

And there was Kobik. She was on the roof of the hospital ten stories up.

“But I have to see!”

“No!” Bucky protested.

“Come down now! We’re leaving, and the coast is clear!”

She was too far away for her expression to be clear, but she was too concentrated and defiant to even reply. Who knew if she was even listening.

“Now you know what it feels like,” you gloated.

Bucky shot you a glare.

Finally, she disappeared and seemed to teleport from the roof. But she didn’t come next to you. She suddenly appeared in one of the parking structures. But…it wasn’t the one that she was supposed to be at.

“Wrong one!” Bucky yelled so that she could hear.

“Kobik hasn’t quite gotten full control of her powers yet,” he explained.

You both ran towards the correct structure waiting for Kobik to just appear where you were supposed to go. But she didn’t. She just stood at the entrance with her shoulders slumped over. And she began to look a little weak.

“Come on, Kobik,” you doted.

“I can’t,” she panted.

You couldn’t hear much of what she said as she was relatively far, but it sounded like she was saying that she was too tired to move now. She might have exhausted herself because of all of the energy she had emitted within the past 15 minutes.

“I’ll go get her,” Bucky sighed letting you go meet up with Sam.

“Thanks for the rescue, Cap,” you panted. You couldn’t believe how winded you were after only ten seconds of running.

“No problem,” he replied shoving his stun gun in the back of his pants again.

“Is she gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. She’ll just need a lot of rest.”

And then…Before Bucky could get to her she let out a blood-curdling scream. When you turned around to her direction another guy had grabbed her. But she didn’t do what she did before. This time she glowed brighter than you had ever seen before. And then the seemingly impossible happened. The entire front half of the parking structure exploded.

“Kobik!” you screamed.

Right before you were about to run, Sam held you back standing in front of you with his hands grasping onto your shoulders tightly.

“Get in the car and start the engine. We’ve got this.”

“No! I have to get—”

“Y/N, I’m not going to tell you again.”

Your jaw clenched as you looked at the destroyed part of the building. You felt helpless. But there was no possible way that you could get out of his grasp.

“Listen if you want to help, do this.”

Your jaw clenched. And you held back an eye roll when you took a moment to accept that he was right.

By the time you turned the car on Bucky was calling you on your cellphone.

“Bucky?”

“She’s okay,” he said.

But she didn’t sound okay. You could hear her crying loudly like she was scared. She sounded close enough to the phone for you to know that he was at least carrying her.

“Meet us at the hospital exit. We’re coming.”

You floored it out of the parking spot over to the exit.

Kobik was covered in rubble and in obvious distress sobbing harder than ever.

Bucky sat in the back with her trying to get her to calm down, and Sam joined you in the passengers’ seat.

“I’m sorry,” she cried.

“I didn’t mean to I…”

“I know,” Bucky would whisper holding her close.

“Did I hurt anyone?”

But Bucky wouldn’t answer that question.

“Don’t worry about that. Let’s just get you home.”

That answer didn’t stop the crying. There was nothing that he could do that would stop her crying. And in turn, you found tears begin to fall down your cheeks. You hoped that nobody noticed.

…

When you finally got home you needed to talk to Bucky. Sam was more than happy to stay with Kobik who had finally stopped crying but wouldn’t talk anymore. You grabbed Bucky and closed yourselves in your room.

“What the hell happened back there?”

Bucky sighed.

“She…She still hasn’t developed full control of her powers yet.”

His jaw clenched as you stared at him with a very serious look.

“What do you mean? I thought you said that she was totally harmless, James.”

“To you, Y/N,” he stated.

“Listen. She’s never been known to hurt anyone that she trusts or at least doesn’t have a reason to distrust; which was why I was totally comfortable leaving her with you.”

Fair point. She was nothing but harmless and playful.

“But when it comes to things like this when she was completely alone and caught off guard…Stuff like this could happen. With what happened this afternoon and tonight…It was probably too much for her.”

“So things like this have happened before?” you questioned.

“Y/N, why do you think that two scientists were studying her and keeping her existence under wraps? In the wrong hands, she could be, well, unstable. But she’s a lot better at controlling her powers now than she was a year ago…But she still needs help.”

You sat down on the bed absolutely exhausted after the incredibly long day that you had. It barely even registered that at the beginning of the day you were having a completely normal, happy morning and afternoon.

You sat down on the bed not having the energy to carry any type of expression on your face. You probably looked like you were in a trance.

“We have to know the damage,” you said after a solid minute of sitting.

“It’s probably all over the news now.”

Bucky sat down next to you and nodded in agreement while pulling his phone out. Before he even unlocked his phone there was a news article notification headlined, ‘Brooklyn Hospital Parking Structure Destroyed: 1 casualty.’.

You were both guiltily relieved that the only person that died was the guy that tried to grab Kobik. On the flip side, a lot of car owners and insurance companies were going to be pissed.

“How was she able to harbor all of that energy, James? You had to go get her because she was too weak to walk. And then she just exploded half of a building?”

He shook his head.

“I don’t even know if she has the answer to that question. I think it just happened without her knowing that she could even do that.”

He opened his phone again and went for further news coverage.

“They’re not tracing anything back to her or us.”

Not only did nothing get traced back to you guys, but the suspects of the explosion were the three guys that had their guns pointed to you before Kobik’s little trick, and Sam’s rescue. The only weird thing to news outlets was that there were no traces of whatever could have possibly created an explosion that big. Which most importantly meant that there were no signs of Kobik existing.

“Are you scared of her again?”

Bucky seemed worried about your answer. And you knew now that it was because he loved that little girl. Probably just as much as you loved her. And for that, you were grateful to her for coming into your lives when she did. Looking back at how caring he was for her made you see how much of an amazing dad he was going to be. Flashes of your eventual future watching him make your child laugh, or taking care of them when they had scrapes, and even the cliché of teaching them how to ride a bike. No matter how terrified he might feel about now knowing how to be a father, it was clear that he knew exactly how to be a dad.

He seemed a little bit more nervous from your cryptic pause. You then frowned and kissed him, offended that he would even ask you that. So you gave him the answer that he hoped you would have.

“Never.”

Note: I am so grateful to every one of you that have gotten invested in this story. It's been truly a joy to know that reading this makes so many of you guys happy. I love you all. <3

Tagged: @buckylove123 @teenagedreams-bucky @typicalnerd98 @veroxloki @white-wolf-buckaroo @acciosiriusblack @pastel-boy-sungjae @flightsandfantasy @noiralei @unstablesleepygal

[serenasoutherlyns]

Precedent

Tracey is falling in love, fast. She seeks the help of an expert.

Law & Order: Trial By Jury and Law & Order. ~1.4k words. Tracey/Kelly, Tracey & Jack friendship with a bit of Jack/Claire. Any feedback is appreciated more than you can possibly know. I wrote this quickly and didn't do much in the way of editing so forgive any errors. ao3 link.

"Jack, do you have a second?"

"For you, Tracey? I'll find ten." He's always liked how she refuses to indulge him with anything more affectionate than an eye roll (he knew how much better that was than many of her myriad expressions). And he does have time. He's finishing some notes with one hand and some noodles with the other.

"There's something I could use your perspective on," she says as she clicks his office door shut behind her. It wasn't like her to come to anybody, let alone him, for advice on cases. He figures it must be a big one, though he thinks she'd go to Arthur for that, even though he knew she hated to. The woman was mysterious, but never deadpan.

"Whatever I can do," Jack says, gesturing to the seat across from him. And he is genuinely willing to help. He likes Kibre. He thinks her spiky reputation is well-earned and well-fitting. She's damn near as good as he is and that, he'd testify to (he expressed a sentiment like this one once, to Serena, who had called him an "egotistical ass," which he guessed he deserved. He missed her sometimes).

"It's not a case, actually it's not exactly work," she says, and Jack is even more surprised. If he doesn't think she'd come to him with work problems, he really doesn't think she'd come to him with personal problems. He raises his eyebrows as if to encourage her to continue. He closes his notebook and brandishes an extra set of chopsticks towards her. Her utterly horrified look is both wounding and amusing.

"You'll have to forgive me," she says, "I despise rumors, but nobody else around here has the same ones you do. I hoped you might have some," she narrows her eyes slightly, looking for the right word, "expertise, in this matter. I've consulted the Standards and a few more popular ethics publications,"

"And there's nothing in any of them about whether or not you can sleep with your associates." Tracey looks relieved for only a second at his commiserating smile.

"Possibly 3.1-7, but,"

"That concerns relationships to defense counsel." Tracey nods. "I know. Terrible, isn't it? That there isn't something somewhere that reads '4.1.: don't do that.'"

Tracey laughs begrudgingly. "Indeed. But when you don't have a statute, you seek out precedent... I truly exhausted my other options, I hope I'm not making you uncomfortable."

"Not at all," Jack says, and he's being truthful. There are elements of him, people with whom, circumstances in which he can be an open book. Tracey is clearly in a tough position and he knows she'll keep his secrets, if only for the possibility of using them against him down the line.

"And none of this gets to Arthur."

"My lips are sealed. So," he says, trying to strike a sensitive tone. "Kelly Gaffney?"

"Yes."

"You two are,"

"Not yet."

"But you're going to. Or you wonder if you should."

"Right." Jack thoughtfully places a stickful of stirfry into his mouth and chews.

"Is there any stopping it?" He asks, knowing that the answer is no, that if there was, she wouldn't be here.

"Not as far as I can tell. I mean, I wouldn't resign, and I couldn't ask for either of us to be reassigned,"

"And you also can't take another celebration scotch or late night research session?"

"You really have been there," Tracey says, with a wistful smile fighting her furrowed forehead. Jack nods. "So, should I just prepare myself for disaster? Or push her away, or... I don't know, take the risk?"

"You're sure she likes women?" Jack says, giving her a purposefully inquisitive look.

"Oh, come on, Jack," she says. He raises his shoulders. "Yes."

"I wouldn't've asked!" he replies defensively.

"Manhattan is a small town. I knew before we started working together."

"How?" Jack asks, but the look she gives him makes him concede defeat. "Maybe you should talk to her," he says, going against everything he did."

"Did that ever work for you? I mean, what would I even say,"

"You overestimate how well any of it worked."

"Do tell," Tracey says, "that is if you're comfortable," she says. With her eyes turned down, she looks almost demure.

Jack knows he can trust her. "Well," he starts, settling in for the storytelling, "Ellen fell pregnant very shortly after we started sleeping together, and then I cheated on her with Sally Bell, who lost interest very quickly. She's a good person, you know." He shrugs. "Diana, was, eventful, from start to end, as I'm sure you know." He takes the last bite of dinner and pushes the container elegantly aside.

"Wow," is all Tracey says, and Jack thinks that he wouldn't want to be like him either.

"You asked," Jack says, weakly smiling. "It's some pattern of behavior, I know."

"I never have," Tracey says. "I've had this bureau chief position ten years, just two associates. Before Kelly I worked with Elizabeth Lynwood,"

"Lutheran Lizzie, I remember," Jack chuckles and Tracey smiles back.

"The nickname was unfair," Tracey says, "Just barely. She's doing well, by the way, in Minneapolis. And before that I always had male bosses, and I defied any of them to look at me. Besides I was usually in one relationship or another," she says. Jack wouldn't've taken her for a serial monogamist.

"So you're not a repeat offender then, Ms. Kibre," Jack says, mock-serious. "Good. After Diana was Ted Baer and, Dan Tenofsky, so I was in the clear, there." He braces himself for the next thing, because he knows it's going to hurt. And he doesn't want to scare Tracey, and he's done a good job (he thinks, hopes) of gluing the pieces together. "And then, Claire Kincaid."

The way he says her name is almost reverent. He's quiet, but more than that, soft, with his hands resting on the table. Tracey feels for him, the moments sitting across from Claire in these very chairs, the way her ghost (and Tracey doesn't believe in the spiritual) must follow him around. Tracey had been fond of Claire, though she never knew her that well. She was a kid, all of 26 when she started with Ben. She was intelligent, scarily so. Curious, passionate, all those traits with productive and dangerous sides. Jack had broken in half and the sound it made was loud enough to shut everyone up around him for as long as it was going to take.

"She was different?"

"Than anyone."

They look at each other for a moment, neither one knowing how to get back on track.

"She's," Tracey says, breaking the heavy silence. "Relentlessly moral. She's funny. Her, capacity for compassion is, superhuman. She second guesses me, but not nearly as much as she could, not as much as she does herself..." Tracey breathes into her next words, "she's pushy."

"She makes you want to be better?"

"More than anyone I've ever met."

"And,"

"Impossibly beautiful," she says, with the kind of smitten smile that makes a person look 20 years younger.

Jack leans back, her expression turning infectious, stretching his arms behind his head. "Look, Tracey, I have regrets. How I treated Ellen, getting involved with Diana in the first place... Some things I said to Claire. But I never, once, regretted falling in love with her." Tracey nods, thinking. "I tried, you know. To stop myself halfway down the cliff."

"All that happens then is you hit the rocks before you hit the water."

Jack rests his chin in his hand, elbow propped on the table. "Does that help?"

"Yeah, it does, more than the Standards, anyway."

"I beat the BAR association!" Jack says, in that boyish tone Tracey knows lots of people find charming.

"Don't get too cocky," Tracey playfully warns him. Her cell rings, and her pulse quickens when she sees it's Kelly calling. She flips it open and catches an entertained look in Jack.

"Hey," she says breathlessly, softly, and Jack knows he's given her the right advice. "Sure, I'll meet you there. 20 minutes, yeah. I'll see you." He looks at her smugly. "I meant what I said, McCoy," she says as sharply as she can manage as she stands from the chair, pulling on her coat and picking up her attache. She stops in the doorway.

"Thanks, Jack."

"Anytime."

---

taglist: @voltives (look you're special!)

[mythichang]

➠ pairing . . . george weasley x reader

➠ genre . . . fluff!!! pining on both parts, pretty short but i think it was a lot of sweetness 😣😣 they ARE students!!! same grade and all that jazz

➠ warnings . . . nothing really!! although they doooo talk about butts but,,, you’ll seee,,,,,

➠ word count . . . 1.8k

➠ authors note . . . this is super duper late and was requested by anon so looooong ago!! i did fall out of the fandom for a bit because tiktok sort of made me realize that a lot of people were on the wrong side of my many situations, but hp will always be in my heart so here i am!!! i hope you all enjoy!!! talk to me about this imagine!! give me scenarios or ask this george and yn from this universe a question!!

➠ masterlist

george was being quite adorable on that particular monday afternoon

you had taken your usual seat, a two-seater splat in the middle of the class

you hadn’t even noticed that the red head fumbled into class, excited to sit besides you as you were too engrossed in your book

it was another thriller, one that made your skin crawl but in the most satisfying way

george got to his seat besides you, a smile on his face as he watched you bite on your lip the tiniest of bit in concentration

he plopped down beside you, head tilted to watch your concentrated face

although he wasn’t as confident as his twin brother, he always watched from afar, eyes full of puppy love

and by afar, he meant right beside you— because that’s where he always was— right beside you

befriending you hadn’t been the easiest of tasks, your quietness not being filling enough for any other person

but he admired the way you didn’t have to yell at the top of your lungs about your excitement

or the way you could sit with anyone in silence and make them feel more comfortable than words could ever manage

really, he was sprung on yOu and only YoU

it wasn’t a surprise to anyone really

not with those longing looks and the way the boy follows you around like a lost puppy

a lost cute puppy albeit

you didn’t mind either

he was an incredibly sweet boy and managed to help you out a lot in different instances

like the way he helps you find the right words to speak to someone whenever you’re stuck

or helping decipher exactly what others are feeling, since you had the smallest of trouble doing a mundane thing

he helps in all of the classes you two have together and is often found getting you to pull away from your little bubble

it’s a great bubble, you love the bubble, it’s always been YOUR bubble but you didn’t mind stepping out of it for the red head boy with the mischievous twin brother

“did you get a chance to study for OWLs?” the boy pulls you out of trance

you look up, a small smile blossoming upon your face at the sight of your favorite boys face

“i did, you?” you ask faintly, gently putting your book back into the small bag that helped you carry all of your books thought out the day

“not a chance.”

“im guessing you want my notes?” you turn in your seat, arm perched up on the desk as you leaned your head up on the palm of your hand

“hmm, i think i would greatly appreciate it.”

“oh, you think?” you laugh softly at his words, same bright smile on your face

you could feel your mood immediately spike as you spoke to him

he was so incredibly comforting and kind, something that you couldn’t find often at hogwarts with rivalries blooming left to right

“i'm not saying i would decline if you offered them up.”

“who’s offering them?” you feign a look of innocence as you exaggeratedly look around the classroom and back at him. “i don’t see anyone doing that.”

“it’s you. you’re offering them up.” he softly pokes the side of your stomach, making you squirm in your seat.

“ask nicely and i might consider handing them over.” you click your tongue and tap your wrist as if signaling that his time was almost up.

“y/n, may i kindly take a look at your notes so that i don’t totally bomb the OWLs?”

“i think i need a little more begging.”

“you suck”

—

it wasn’t as if you wanted to be staring at him

he was just there— standing there so gloriously beside his twin brother

it was no doubt that the weasley twins were popular around hogwarts

you weren't sure if it was their likability or the parties they seemed to make a thousand times more fun

whatever it was, they ravished in it, not that you cared either, even if it did get you into too many uncomfy situations

seeing george oh-so happy among the crowd of wizards was oh-so gratifying

he smiled so bright that his pearly whites shone throughout wherever he was

now was one of the moments, except you weren’t anywhere special— just another day of sitting across the room from one another in herbology

professor sprout had separated the two of you in hopes that you wouldn’t mess or speak to one another in class any longer

that didn’t work out great,,, clearly

because now you were dazed

dazed as you watch the boy laugh and work with his brother

you weren’t quite sure what was going on between them but you knew you looked like one of those ridiculous people in those ridiculous romantic movies

where the main character is staring at the boy they find so attractive— hearts floating around their head as they sigh out in happiness as if they were watching their entire world

ridiculous ridiculous ridiculous

but could you blame yourself? was it really your fault or was it george’s for being very cute? for having a laugh and smile that just manages to grasp your entire self?

it was george’s fault you like to think

“what are you doing?” the sudden voice makes you jump in your spot, utensils falling onto the floor with a loud clatter

you look down at the utensils out of embarrassment, not wanting to make any eye contact with anybody

“sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” angela bends down over with you, helping pick up your things

“it’s quite alright,” you mumble softly, not exactly knowing what so say

“i figure you’re into george.” the girl’s sudden words throw you off, your head snapping up to look at the beautiful girl

“w-what? where… um, where’d you get that? it’s nothing but… lies.” you sputter out as quickly as possible— and quite literally too loudly as many others glanced to you and the girl

you could feel your cheeks brighten up even more

a sense of deadly remorse wafts over your already flushed body as angelina gave you an unimpressed look

“alright, calm down, it was just a random conclusion i’ve came up with.”

“that’s a crazy hypothesis!” you continue to sputter out your words as if in disgust of her word

“it wouldn't be that crazy, now, would it?” she laughs gently as the two of you stood up, finally coming up from your crouch on the floor

“he’s just a friend”

“it’s no big deal, i’m definitely into fred. nothing to be ashamed of.”

“yeah, well everyone knows that.” you sigh, fixing up your utilities, angelina helping you with the task

“and no one knows about you and george? only so many can be as, and i mean this in the nicest way possible, oblivious as you two.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” eyebrows scrunched, you turn to her

were you supposed to be offended? you felt as if you should but you didn’t care enough about it any longer

“it means... make a move.” she shrugs from beside you. “i don’t think it’d ruin anything. if anyithing, you two could stop running circles around one another and finally make out.”

“you are a very crude person.”

“masking out is crude to you? bless your soul, no wonder you haven’t noticed him.”

and that was where the conversation stopped, only making your thoughts run 100 mph

what was she saying exactly? was george as into you as you are into him?

it made your brain feel mushy and it was a horrible feeling

one filled with anxiousness, trying to figure out exactly what being a teenager with feelings meant

but it pleasantly relaxed you to know that angelina was going through the same things as a teenager herself

having started hanging out with her and listening to her advice, you began to notice more things about george and the way he was around you

he was a lot more touchy than you ever remembered, and not in an uncomfortable wait either

but what seemed platonic and innocent to you suddenly sent an alarm through out you (again, not a bad one,,,, just a slightly nervous one)

what were you supposed to do???????

you were always told that you were HORRIBLE with emotions and confrontation

confront him about your feelings???? now how were you supposed to deal with both???

you were unnerved to no end and george was quick to catch in as well

“okay, what’s up your butt?” at hearing george’s voice, you jump up slightly

“there’s nothing up my butt.”

“yes there is. you have that look.”

“the ‘there’s-something-up-my-butt’ look?” you scoff lightly, hoping to rid of the conversation with a tiny bit of humor

“exaclty the look. tell me what’s wrong.”

“nothings wrong.” you shrug him off, turning back to your book, one of which you had to read the first sentence repeatedly

you couldn’t even sit beside him any longer without feeling as if you’re about to burst with terrifying feelings and hypothesis, courtesy of angelina

“is someone bullying you?”

“what?” you turn to him in disbelief. “who would bully me?”

“i don’t know,” he mumbles softly not liking the reaction he managed to grab from you. “just... you look... weird.”

“and here i thought this flimsy uniform looked great with my legs.”

“okay sassypants, i’ll let you be.”

you sigh softly at the sight of a defeated look on him

your mother always said, “if something is painful but can be rid of in an instant, rip it off like a bandaid.”

you always thought it was dumb, why would you rip off a bandaid? bandaids were there to make you feel better so it should be working on whatever it’s put on

ridiculous

you’re ridiculous

YOU ARE RIDICULOUS

you knew you needed to stop being such a wussy, it was a bad look on you

that much you could tell at george’s hesitant looks

screw it

“want to go on a date?” it was too late to stop the words from coming out.

george looks over at you, wide eyes

you felt as if time was suddenly going to slow as you awaited his answer

so far,,,? things didn’t look too great for you

but you weren’t going to strike-out immediately, maybe he was too shocked

“you want to go on a date? with me?”

“no, actually, im asking professor snape... yes with you.” your cheeks were flushed red as you refused to look the boy in the eye

“sassypants is coming out again.” the melodious tone of his laughter reaching your ears, making you feel at ease

“i’d love to go on a date with you.” you shut your eyes tight, hands covering your face

“goodness, i felt like i was suffocating.” you mumble, embarrassment continuously coursing through your body

“is that what was up your butt?”

“you really do have a way with words. yes, that’s what was up my butt.”

“hmm, i knew something was wrong. weirdo, you could have asked me so long ago!”

“you could’ve told me too!”

[spencerreidshortstories]

The Team Found Out About You

Description: The team finds out about the girl Spencer has been spending time with.  There is slight teasing from Morgan, but that’s the be expected, really.

Rating: Teen

Warnings: None really, just light-hearted teasing amongst friends.

Spencer's team didn't find out about her until he'd known her for three months. He was a pretty private person, and he hadn't planned on telling them yet, but the team had all made plans to go out on a Friday night after work since they didn't have a case. The thing was that he already had plans and since he never had plans, they all wanted to know what was going on.

What was going on was he was in the middle of Star Trek and he wasn't watching it alone.

"Pretty Boy has himself a girlfriend," Derek said, grinning, teasing like he always did. It didn't really bother Spencer anymore. He knew Derek would never tease him with a harmful intent behind it.

"No, I –"

"Oh, who is it?" Penelope broke in. "Do we know her?"

"No. We met at the library, and she's not my girlfriend. I haven't known her that long."

"But you've invited her into your apartment?"

"Well, yes, to watch Star Trek."

Spencer knew what they were talking about, though. He had a thing with his personal space. He didn't let just anybody into it. For him to let her in his apartment meant that he felt some kind of attachment to her.

He regretted telling them her name, though, because Garcia literally pulled up her personal history and a background check, which Spencer was not okay with even if he was curious. He could just ask her and she wouldn't mind telling him. She was an open book.

"You sure you don't want to know?"

Derek and Spencer had followed Garcia to her tech room and she'd gotten done in less than five minutes. There obviously hadn't been much to find, which was good. That meant there weren't any skeletons in the closet.

"As long as there's nothing bad, I don't need to know."

"Well, there's no criminal record. Not even a speeding ticket."

"She's a very safe driver."

"You've let her drive you around?"

"Sometimes . . ."

He began to fidget. This was why he didn't let people in on his business. They always had questions and they wouldn't leave him alone about it. It really wasn't a big deal. Okay, it kind of was, but still . . .

"What's she like?" Derek asked.

"She's . . . I don't know – our first conversation was about books. She was having trouble reaching a book on the top shelf because she wasn't tall enough, so I got it for her, and she had a basket of books she was checking out and – "

"A whole basket?"

"She likes to read," he said and shrugged. "We talked for a while and we went out for coffee that weekend. She didn't treat me like a freak when she found out how many I have or how many Bachelor Degrees I have."

Neither Derek nor Garcia said anything about the freak thing, because some people did have an adverse reaction when they found out how smart Reid was.

"Does she know what you do?"

"Yeah. We – we try to hang out when I have time off. Or when she does. She stays pretty busy. She has two jobs."

"She runs a youth center and works at a Jr. High as a guidance counselor," Garcia supplied for Derek.

"She calls it her baby," Spencer said. "Anyway, we just – we just get along. We can talk about anything and she doesn't mind when I don't know when to stop talking, so that works, and she's smart –"

"She was one of the highest scorers for her college entrance exam. Top five percent," Garcia said, looking at one of the computer screens. "She took five, sometimes six, classes at a time, and still kept an A average in most of her classes."

Okay, so Spencer hadn't known that part, but he didn't need to know every little detail of her life. They were just friends.

"That's – stop. I'm good not knowing. I didn't need to know that to know she's intelligent. She can keep up with my train of thought, so –"

"That's a miracle right there, Boy Genius."

Spencer grinned and shook his head. "It's great. She's letting me explain the science behind Star Trek as we watch it."

"That's – that's commitment right there. When can we meet her? Why don't you invite her out tonight?"

"How about I don't? I don't know how she'd feel about me just springing this on her last minute." Then, "I'll ask her how she feels about it and maybe we can do it next time. Just . . . don't embarrass her."

"Is she easily embarrassed?" Garcia asked. And then, "You know, I can't find this girl on social media at all. What's up with that? There's her professional email for the school and that's it."

Spencer remembered she'd told him one time that she hated technology. She could type on the computer and that was about as far as her knowledge went. The kids at the youth center had had to show her the different apps on her phone and how they worked.

"She's not great with technology."

Garcia seemed offended, and Spencer shrugged. He wasn't great with technology either.

"To answer your question . . . she's not easily embarrassed, exactly, but she does blush a lot." When Derek's eyebrows shot up Spencer was quick to say, "Shut up, and you're not allowed to tease her if she decides she wants to meet you guys."

"We would never make her uncomfortable, Reid," Derek said, serious now.

"I know that, but you tease people. It's part of who you are. Just . . . wait for her to get to know you first, so she knows you don't mean anything by it. It's how you show affection."

As if Derek had to prove Spencer was right, he said, "Have you kissed her yet?"

"What? No!" And then, "She's not my girlfriend!"

He decided now was the time to leave. He felt like he was in a bad teen movie – not that he'd seen many of those – and he was confused as to why he hadn't extricated himself from the tech cave sooner.

As he was walking back to his desk, he wondered how long it would take for the rest of the team to find out about her. There was no way Morgan and Garcia were going to keep their mouths shut about it.

As it turned out, Garcia was the one to spill the beans and everyone knew by the time they went out that night. None of the others made as much of a fuss about it and Spencer was grateful. They all seemed interested in meeting her though.

When he asked why, Derek said, "Because she's gotta be special if she caught your interest, Pretty Boy."

"Yeah, we have to meet her now," JJ said. "From what you've said, she sounds amazing."

He didn't say it, but he did think she was amazing. She was kind and bright, and had nothing to do with his job. She brought him a kind of peace that he hadn't known for a long time, since before he'd started working.

He loved his job and he couldn't imagine doing anything else, but that didn't mean the cases didn't bother him or stay with him, sometimes keep him up at night or bring him nightmares when he did sleep. He didn't have to think about murder or rape or kidnapping when he was with her because she wasn't part of the team. She was something far from them, set apart from his job. That was one of the reasons he hadn't thought to introduce her to his friends. He didn't want to mar his friendship with her by maybe bringing that part into it.

He would, however, ask how she felt about meeting his team members. He had said he would, and he didn't like lying. He hoped it didn't change anything between them. He still wanted her as his TV show buddy. As she had said when they'd had coffee, it wasn't fun binging a show on your own.

[artificialqueens]

Someone I Genuinely Love (Taywhora) - pureCAMP

A/N - I feel like a broken record but it must be said, I feel like I exclusively write for Ortega at this point and I am not mad at it, I love her more than I love myself. Here is a short little Taywhora for my favourite scottish queen <3

The night - er, morning - was a disaster.

To be honest, Tayce had seen it coming from a mile off, and she had warned Lawrence that inviting both A’Whora and Tia was going to be an absolute shitstorm. They just plain didn’t like each other, which was fine, but A’Whora had trouble holding her sharp tongue at the best of times, and mixing in a bucket-load of alcohol and a pretty cramped house, and you had a recipe for chaos.

(And, really? A house party? Were they still seventeen?)

Nevertheless, it was Lawrence’s birthday, and she called the shots, and she drank the shots, and she got to choose who came to her house to get unreasonably pissed into the wee hours of the morning.

Tia was there pretty early - or, at least, she was on time like most of them. She was stood in the kitchen with a Smirnoff Ice in her hand, happily chatting away to Ellie, wearing a dress that Tayce had complimented, if only to make some brief conversation. It was… passable, really, a half-decent outfit if she went that far, but nothing to write home about. Unfortunately, Tayce knew A’Whora was gonna hate it, and A’Whora with a loose tongue was almost certainly gonna make a comment about it.

The girl in question rocked up late and sloppy, as per her usual style. She stumbled through the front door and leant in the frame with a tipsy smile, plush lips painted pink and dabbed with glitter, eyelashes fluttering. Her skin-tight dress was fuchsia, bright, emphasising her soft tan thighs that the fabric rode up against and clinging to every inch of her. Once neat, her dark hair was messily piled on top of her head, falling tantalisingly in front of her face.

Tayce couldn’t help but feel relieved that she’d decided to come.

“The party can finally start!” A’Whora exclaimed, raising her drink in the air with a flourish and slamming the door behind her with her heel.

“It already started, ya lazy fuck!” Lawrence yelled from the back of the house. Tayce, standing at the bottom of the stairs and looking onto the front door, made eye contact with A’Whora and giggled at their friend.

“Isn’t she charming?” Tayce gestured towards the general vicinity of Lawrence’s voice.

A’Whora crept closer, her eyes wide and expectant. “Okay, listen. I saw Tia’s snapchat earlier. Tell me she got changed before coming out tonight.”

Here we go. Tayce bit her lip. “Aurora. A’Whora Borealis. You be nice.”

“I’m not trying to be rude or anything but she looks like a fucking Year Nine at her first party wearing a Pretty Little Thing dress that her mum chose for her. I mean, is she serious about it? Is it like a joke?” A’Whora covered her mouth with the side of her hand, her tone conspiratory and judgemental. 

Tayce rolled her eyes, both fond and irritated. “Whory, be nice. She clearly likes it, let her have fun. She’s not hurting anybody.”

“She’s hurting my eyes.” A’Whora rebuffed, pursing her lips. “Not like you, though. You’re a sight for sore eyes tonight.”

Internally she was pleased, but played it off smoothly. It wasn’t like Tayce had cleverly thought out her oversized blazer and thigh-high boots combo with A’Whora in mind, of course not. It wasn’t like she’d tailored her outfit hoping for a good response from her… friend? What even was A’Whora besides a hot girl she’d known forever who she spent 50% of her time blatantly flirting back and forth with and 50% of her time denying that she was doing it?

Lawrence burst through the corridor in a flourish of colour to greet A’Whora and groaned, fanning herself with her hand. “Fuck me, I am sweating.”

Tayce blinked. “It’s October. There’s no way you’re hot, in October, in Scotland.”

“Not from the heat, fuckin’ braindead supermodel. From the weight of the crushing sexual tension in this room.”

She looked pointedly between A’Whora and Tayce, neither of whom were particularly shocked by Lawrence’s openness, having grown used to it. However, in an embarrassingly same wavelength move, both girls cocked an eyebrow.

“Aye, I’m talking about you, pinchin’ your Botox lips at me Miss A’Whora the Explorer.”

A’Whora shook her head. “The cheek! Cheek of you to suggest that something’s going on here.”

“Not sure where you’re getting your sources from, but I’d consider leaving The Sun’s team out of your investigations,” Tayce added, A’Whora trying and failing to conceal her smile as Lawrence playfully whacked her arm.

“Get to fuck with those accusations. You carry on living out your little Gavin and Stacey storyline and I’ll go ask the Pope if he’s still shitting in the woods or if bears are still Catholic. Have fun ya fucking lesbians.”

As she disappeared back into the living room, where Bimini had started blasting something with a heavy, pulsing beat, A’Whora turned back to Tayce with an offended look on her face.

“Did that William Wallace wannabe just imply that I’d be the man in the relationship just because I’m English?” She asked, reeling backwards. “Fucking cheek!”

Tayce laughed. “Well, you don’t have legs like mine…” She trailed off, predicting A’Whora’s outburst.

“Hey! Listen, we’d be a great Naomi and Kim, so shut your beautiful face and stop seducing me with that gorgeous accent.” She paused for a second, thinking, and then blinked. “I mean Naomi Campbell and Kim Kardashian, I realise that sounded like something different…”

Tayce looped her arm through A’Whora’s and started trudging down the hallway, making their way into the living room with most of the others. “I love that you think you’re anything like a Kardashian, babe. The Kylie lips maybe, but you’re no Kim.”

As the music grew louder and louder in their eyes, Bimini wrapping a drunk sweaty arm around them both and bellowing something inaudible, Tayce leaned in close to A’Whora’s ear and added, “I’d much prefer what you’ve got to what Kim’s got.”

That was the game; cat and mouse, a game of chase and coy avoidance. After that, she slipped away to dance with Asttina, sipping on her drink and trying to hide her eagerness. The next move was A’Whora’s, as they both knew, and she could play it whenever she wanted.

It was after maybe another hour of drinking and gushing with her friends about how beautiful everyone looked and how drunk they all felt that Tayce realised the atmosphere in Lawrence’s living room was a little too kind. Nothing wrong with that, of course, and a house full of drunk girls was basically the club bathroom scenario elevated to an extreme level, but a kind atmosphere meant that A’Whora had clearly gone into another room. Not good.

Making to find her, Tayce got all the way to the doorway before Ellie and Lawrence stopped her to chat about whether or not it would be stupid to play spin the bottle (it would) and whether or not they should all do some more shots (they did). Then I Wanna Dance With Somebody started playing, and by the first “Woo!”, she’d totally forgotten about her earlier mission, and ran back inside screaming and grabbing at Asttina to dance with her. 

She had to give Lawrence some credit, because her playlist was incredible. Nothing but banger after banger after banger.

About half way through Good As Hell, Tayce became aware of what sounded like shouting, underwater and garbled and messy. Though she carried on grinding against Asttina and singing along to Lizzo’s affirmations, her head checked out a little as she tried to focus on the background voices over the blaring music. It proved to be quite the struggle, being as drunk as she was, but as it turned out, she didn’t need to pay too much attention, as she wasn’t the only one that had noticed.

By the time Tia was standing outraged in the living room doorway, all eyes were on her. She looked furious, cheeks red and eyes spilling over, her fists clenched and trembling.

Lawrence quietened the music.

“So, were you gonna tell me that you all think I look like shit or did you nominate A’Whora to be the nasty cunt she usually is?” She looked down at her dress, back up, and choked back a sob. “Fuck off, the lot of you.”

Immediately, half the room started to follow her with choruses of love, their words getting tangled in a web of you’re beautiful and she doesn’t speak for us and A’Whora’s just a bitch and I like it! 

The living room felt significantly emptier with just Lawrence, Ellie and Tayce in it, the three of them frozen staring at the doorway like they couldn’t believe it had finally kicked off. After a few moments, The 1975 now playing at an awkwardly low volume, A’Whora passed the living room, peered inside with brimming eyes, and broke into a run. 

Tayce followed her on instinct, leaving Lawrence and Ellie behind. Her heart sank as she rushed through the house; one part of her took in the group of girls gathered in the kitchen, their arms hooked over a crying Tia, their tongues slicing away at A’Whora’s character with every dirty look that they sent in the direction of the now wide-open front door. 

As bad as she felt for Tia, no one was going after A’Whora. And maybe that made sense, but Tayce had never cared too much about making sense - not when it came to her. 

Luckily, she didn’t have to go too far. A little way down Lawrence’s street, a familiar figure was sitting crumpled over on the curb, her face hidden in her hands, head leaning against the lamppost under which she was illuminated. Like an angel, Tayce thought. Like a sad, stupid angel. 

“Whory. What did you do, babe? I wanna hear it from you.”

A’Whora looked up. Flecks of black mascara stained around her eyes, the shadows beginning to smudge into the eyeliner from her tears, and her lip trembled. She lowered her head, prompting Tayce to sit down on the curb next to her, legs stretched out into the empty road. 

“I told her the dress was fucking ugly, because someone’s gotta do it. I was just trying to help but I know that was an asshole thing to say and I should’ve just kept my mouth shut.” 

Tayce blinked. She hadn’t expected the remorseful part of A’Whora’s answer, if she was being honest. She usually never gave in, never admitted defeat, proudly shrugged off any offence caused while Tayce tried to interject some kindness into her. It never worked, which she’d always found frustrating, but now it was unsettling that it had. 

“I mean, I’m right. She looks like the embodiment of the fucking kid’s section of a TK Maxx.”

Tayce kissed the side of her head, A’Whora responding by resting it on Tayce’s shoulder. “I thought she was the Year Nine girl in her mum’s choice of Pretty Little Thing dresses?” She teased gently. To her relief and simultaneous heartbreak, it received a short, wet laugh. 

“I didn’t expect her to - to rip into me like that. Like she did.” 

“What happened?”

“She stood up for herself. Which is good, right?” A’Whora sniffed. “She told me I’m a vapid self-absorbed little bitch, and that she can change her shitty fashion sense while I’ll be stuck with my fake face and dog shit personality for the rest of my life. And that at least our friends like her, ‘cause they barely tolerate me.”

Tayce squeezed her eyes shut and hugged her tighter. “You gotta understand she’s coming from a place of hurt, darling. I know you know this, but you have been pretty mean to her in the past.”

A’Whora nodded weakly, throwing up a peace sign. “Karma,” She sang, the humour in it betrayed by her wobbly voice. “I deserved it, but… I didn’t realise it would hurt this much. Especially because she’s right.”

“She’s not right,” Tayce cut in immediately, a little surprised by her own fierce defensiveness. “She was just angry and upset.”

A moment of silence fell as A’Whora lapsed into thought, her face still smushed into Tayce’s shoulder. She scuffed her shoes into the stones gathered at the edge of the curb, kicking them into the road and scraping her heels into the gritty dirt. As cold as the night was, Tayce could hardly feel it with A’Whora so close.

She laughed bitterly. “Tay, look at us. Do you see any of our other friends out here? No, they’re all telling Tia how much they love her. Because they do. And I’m the nasty fucking bully that won’t go away so they just put up with me until I give them a reason to talk shit.”

“That’s not true, Whory. Sure, we gotta work on controlling that lip of yours, but the girls still love you.” Tayce paused, and then peppered a few more kisses to the top of her head. “You may be a bitch, but you’re my bitch.”

“Kinky,” A’Whora giggled, softening into her side. “You still like me?”

“I always like you.” Tayce whispered. 

Above them, the orange street lamp flickered and turned off, casting them into darkness. A crescent moon shone just above them, partially covered by clouds, and the night was quiet. Tayce leaned back, pulling A’Whora with her, until both girls were laying down, half on the pavement and half into the road, their arms around one another and heads facing the sky. A lifetime or even a minute could’ve passed as they just watched the stars, endlessly fascinated by the tiny pinpricks of light, but when Tayce turned her head, it struck her that A’Whora’s eyes sparkled better than any night sky she’d ever seen.

“I should apologise to Tia.” A’Whora murmured.

“Tomorrow.” Their voices were barely above a whisper, something unspoken and sacred about maintaining the tranquility of the silent night. “Give her time to cool off.”

“And you promise you still like me?”

Her eyes were wide, hopeful. Their faces were so close it was no effort at all. It never was. 

Not with her.

The night - er, morning -  was a disaster, but A’Whora’s lips tasted like cherry gloss and her touch was soft and gentle, and maybe things didn’t always end badly. Maybe it would be okay as long as Tayce had A’Whora and A’Whora had Tayce. 

Maybe Lawrence fucking Chaney was right.

[fallenhero-rebirth]

Brain update

First, let me say that this isn't about what anybody has done. My reactions are not in proportion to anything that has happened, and might be considered odd, weird and sensitive to people involved.

So let me explain.

I'm an Aspie (what we call ourselves in Sweden), on the autism spectrum. Yeah, might have guessed that from the story I'm writing, Sidestep is not the only one trying to figure out how people work.

Over the years I have built up an arsenal of knowledge and analysis to be able to pretend to be neurotypical, something that I can manage alright most days, but which breaks down once you get to know me better. I'm open with this at my current job, and luckily both my bosses seem to be okay dealing with open communication and just telling me what I need to do.

It was not always like this, and that is one of the reasons why I had a breakdown and needed to get off discord/tumblr.

Back in the late nineties, I had finally got my dream job. I was a product developer in the food industry, part of a rather small department of middle-class academics. I was the new hire, everyone else had worked there for years, and things were going well. Or so I assumed. I got cool projects, got along well with one of the sales people, and well, my boss was weird but bosses always are.

Three years later. Our parent company wanted to sell us off, everyone was starting to get worried about their job. We tried to expand into things were weren't equipped to do (you don't bring spices into a fruit jam line, will be hell to clean) and while I did the projects, I also raised an (in retrospect) too big stink about the fact that we were wasting time developing things we couldn't produce without expanding. My boss (who I had learned was a devout christian) started to get really weird, I got called in and he wondered if I was a member of a cult (I was often wearing a headscarf at the time because pressure on my head is good for stress relief). I also got told off for wearing army boots to work (we had lab shoes in the lab), because (I kid you not) if we had danish visitors to the lab (we didn't have visitors) they could be offended since they had once been occupied by Nazis. Yes, at the time I was an Antifa metalhead/satanist, it was a very volatile time in sweden and nazis were everywhere. Now they're a political party, go figure.

It all came to a head when I was confronted with a folder one of the secretaries of the department had where she had written down every odd and strange thing that I did, and there were a lot of accusations of things I quite frankly blocked out. Around this time I was suffering from bad burnout, had memory loss, my hair was falling out and I lost two bikes because I forgot where I parked them. All because of workplace hostility.

So for the first time ever, I went to the company doctor, who immediately sent me on a one month sick leave, and gave a reference to a therapist. When I went and told my boss, his reaction was "It can't be anything at work," in a dismissive tone. I wrote my resignation right then and there, left the building, snuck back a Saturday to clean out my stuff so I didn't have to meet anyone. Luckily I was backed up by my union, so I got unemployment despite quitting, and the therapist helped me get back on my feet and hook me up with some antidepressants.

Still, I was a wreck for years.

At the time, I had NO idea I was an Aspie. It weren't talked about, the only thing I knew about Autism, was from the various portrayals in movies, and well, in the nineties you can guess. Rainman pretty much was it.

What destroyed me the most was not that people disliked me, I didn't like them either, we didn't have anything in common, and middle-class people always scared me. No, what broke me was the fact that my system failed.

See, I had built up myself over ten years into someone I wanted to be. Smart. Capable. Metalhead. Researcher. Activist. I thought I knew the rules. How to interact.

It turned out I knew nothing. People had been talking behind my back for years, and I didn't know. Getting annoyed by my ticks, and I had no idea. Nobody ever brought anything up to my face until it exploded one day out of the blue. This is why I have ranted about anons on this tumblr. This is why I have been so openly against passive aggressive posts and bullying, especially the anonymous kind, because it destroys people and I don't think the people who does it knows the impact they can have. I hope they don't.

I have never gone back to the lab. I can't. I'm having heart palpitations just thinking about it when I'm writing this. I retrained. Became a machinist. Back to the working class I came from. Eventually started writing.

And this is exactly what these last months have felt like.

I thought I understood things. I was pretty open with being old, an Aspie, not understanding memes, or humor, or tik tok, or certain aspects of people's behavior like jealousy, but the problem with joking about this is that it's so easy to take as just a joke. That I'm just making fun of myself (oh it's that too). I got advice from some of you, which I ignored, because I thought that I could be different. That there was no danger in getting close. That I could be just another voice in the crowd. An occasionally evil avocado. That this couldn't blow up in my face, that everything was cool.

And then it did. And I was wrong. And the talking started, and things were coming out that I had no idea that was going on. That I was being held responsible for. Opinions that were spoken in my name. Events I was supposed to have been aware of and supported. All of a sudden I was omniscient, aware of the true passive aggressive meaning of every reblog, aware of every post in every room in the discord I wasn't even running. Wasn't even a mod on. All of a sudden I had power, and I had used it to hurt people. The people I cared about. Everything I wrote was taken in the worst possible way, twisted into things I never meant, and the more I tried to talk to people, the worse it went.

Look. I know this was at heart a war between people that just doesn't like each other and the things they do/the ways they behave. I'm still not entirely sure who's been involved, and I'm not interested in finding out. I tried to build a supportive space, reblog everyone's art and fics, encourage people to make their own things, get a kofi, get some money, make some friends.

And herein lies my problem.

I thought I understood how to be, and now I don't. I have no idea who hates my guts and who doesn't (well, except some who has very vocally let me know). I can't trust anything. I can't trust anyone. And it sucks. Someone I trusted stabbed be in the back because they were convinced I stabbed them in the back and that sucks more than I can describe. Every time I make a comment on AO3 or twitter it's after psyching myself up for half an hour, and I'm usually a wreck afterwards, because my brain doesn't know if they hate me too, and if I am imposing on them and making their day bad.

So yeah. I need to figure out how to be. How not to have a nausea attack every time I accidentally click open tumblr from pure reflex, looking away from the screen just not to see how may messages I have.

I never wanted to be the aloof author, but maybe I have to be. The question is if I can. I have been told I can't comment on pics or fics, because then I have favorites. And that makes people jealous. And it makes people think I take sides. I have been told I can't be on the discord, because then I will be held responsible for what the mods do there, and everything that's said even when I'm not around. I should apparently have someone manage the tumblr, it's not something that I, an author should do.

I now understand the authors who just stay away and remain distant, because people give themselves the power to write the narrative for you.

Part of me wants to tell people what I've told my current bosses, don't assume, just talk to me. I don't pick up/do passive aggression, I don't understand hints, I have trouble with nuance, I don't listen to gossip, I don't interact enough to know anything that's going on. Just ask before assuming.

Except that right now I can't. I can't talk about any of this. It's too close. It sets me off. It's getting better, sure, I'm on medication again, but the smallest thing still can ruin my entire day. I have no idea how long it will take me to recover and come back to some semblance of normality. I'm not posting this myself (my partner does). Writing is going well, because it lets me not be myself. I need those walls again. The therapy of writing about pain.

I'll rebuild them. I'm not entirely sure who I'll be on the other end of it. We'll see.

I have consciously not spoken about any details because those could be misunderstood, this is not a passive aggressive callout to anybody. I have no hard feelings towards anyone, I am not angry or upset, just confused and sad. I am truly so very, very, very sorry that I've hurt people, both by action and inaction. It was never my intention. I will do my best to do better in the future.

Still working on how to do that.

[twdbegins]

A Friendly Feud

__

Simon x Fem. Reader

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 1,759

“Is that really what you want?”

__

He infuriated you. He knew exactly how to push your buttons, and push your buttons he certainly did. It was almost like he went out of his way to mess with you. As if he had nothing else on his schedule except pestering you. He was extremely persistent, you’d give him that. 

It seemed like you saw him more than anybody else at the Sanctuary. You didn’t even see Negan as much as you saw Simon. Maybe it was because the Sanctuary wasn’t THAT big or because Simon often sought you out. Either way, you had your fair share of encounters with him.

You fought all the time. Like, literally all the time. If you were in a room together, everyone would be sure to get a good view. Odd were, the two of you would start going at it at some point or another. The anger was always one sided. Simon never lost his patience with you, because he knew he was almost always the instigator of your fights. His amusement just made you angrier, and he fed off of it. 

It had gotten so bad that Negan refused to allow the two of you to do anything together if there wasn’t a third party involved. That didn’t stop Simon from going out of his way to hassle you.

You grimaced at the sound of whistling and heavy footsteps coming from down the hall. Oh, great. The man of the hour. You prepared yourself for his usual shenanigans, offering a very brief glance when he poked his head into the supply closet you were currently in.

“Mornin’, sweetheart.” He grinned proudly.

Did he really have to call you that? How aggravating.

“Hey, Simon.” You returned a rather unenthusiastic greeting.

His eyes were fixed on you as your attention remained on counting the unloaded boxes in front of you. Negan had put you on inventory duty for the day, meaning you’d be bopping around the Sanctuary’s supply closets counting resources from the run from the previous day. You could feel his gaze on you, the wheels in his head were evidently turning. He was probably figuring out a new way to get on your nerves.

“Do you need something?” You asked, tone full of irritation.

You still weren’t looking at him, trying to keep your cool. A smile was still smacked on his face, his expression not changing.

“Is it such a crime just to pop in and say hi to my favorite savior?” He asked, pretending to be offended.

You scoffed at that. His “favorite savior? Oh, please. What a charmer he thought he was.

“It is when I’m clearly busy.” You said, referring to the mounds of stuff you had yet to count.

“I’d hardly call counting boxes as busy.” He countered back.

You sighed heavily in annoyance. He just wanted attention. Your attention. That’s all he ever wanted was for you to acknowledge him whenever he was in your presence. Even if it could be rather annoying, you were the tiniest bit flattered. No one had ever gone after your validation as much as he did. You didn’t want him to feel like he had something to prove to you, because he didn’t. No one did. You just wished he’d pick a more pleasant approach.

“Well, I just do as I’m told and this is what I was told to do,” You smarted off, finally turning to look at him; “Do you have a problem with that?”

He took a step into the small closet. His smirk was gone, but his tone was just as playful as ever.

“Woah, darlin’. Why the bad attitude?” He asked, obviously knowing he was bugging you.

You tossed your head back in exasperation. It was evident that he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. You turned completely to face him, not realizing that he had been standing right behind you. You abruptly collided into him, your chest firm against him. You looked up into his eyes, your face growing hot. Had he always been that handsome? Your hard pause and stare told him everything he needed to know. You had a thing for him.

He knew it was mutual.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, but made no effort to back away from him. You meant for your words to come out as demanding, but instead they escaped as a desperate whisper.

“If you want to stick around, then make yourself useful and start counting.” 

He beamed at the invitation. You hadn’t actually ever offered your time to him. This was a step in the right direction in his eyes. Taking a leap of faith, his hands rested on your sides and gripped to keep you close.

“You sure that’s all you wanna do?” He asked lowly.

Before you knew it, and before you could say anything else, he kissed you. It wasn’t a gentle, experimental kiss. It was a deep, calculated, and passionate kiss that you could tell had been long awaited. The man that you thought you hated so much had you weak in the knees and barely processing any of the thoughts crossing your mind. Had you really been misinterpreting your feelings all along?

You pulled away first, heart suddenly caught in your throat as you felt yourself begin to panic. You unattached yourself from him and made a rash decision to get out before you had time to do anything else.

“I, uh...I’ve got to go.” You said at a more normal volume. 

You dashed out of the closet and back to the other side of the Sanctuary. You left him behind, feeling disappointed that his pledge for how he felt about you didn't go as he had hoped. For the first time, he felt afraid that maybe he had scared you off.

That was the last thing he wanted to do.

__

The days following the fateful make out session in the supply closet were tense and weird. You refused to look at him when you passed him in the hall and he didn’t speak to you for fear of freaking you out. Everyone around seemed to notice too. Suddenly, Simon wasn’t trying to get you riled up and you weren’t yelling at him to give it a rest. Your interactions were now stoic and silent. You were beginning to prefer the way it was before. At least then he was actually talking to you.

Oddly enough, the person who felt they were most affected was Negan. Negan despised silence, unless it meant everyone was listening to him. Even he would admit that the arguments the two of you had often gave him a headache, but he realized that he would rather down a couple aspirin after every meeting than have to stew in the tension that radiated off of the both of you now.

It took about an hour or so, but Negan was able to squeeze it out of Simon as to what exactly went down to where things had changed so drastically. Negan was pleased that Simon had gotten his act together and made a move, but he needed this to be resolved now. Because he just couldn’t take it anymore.

So that’s how you and Simon ended up in a room together. Alone. To most people, this was a disaster waiting to happen. Either he’d sweep you off your feet or you’d finally kill him. 

You sat at the table and he leaned against the wall, neither of you were brave enough to speak first. The silence was painfully loud, it was like a ringing in your ears. It was just a matter of who would crack under pressure first. It sure wasn’t going to be you. So he caved.

“Listen, [Y/N], about the other day...” He spoke gravelly; “I didn’t mean to cross any lines or freak you out.”

Your cheeks burned, your glance was committed to one area of the table. You weren’t looking at him yet. 

“I just don’t think we could go back to the way we were after that.” You admitted.

Simon shrugged, beginning to warm up to this conversation that needed to be had.

“Is that really what you want?” He questioned. 

“Yes.” You lied, but thought you were being truthful.

He felt gutted. Ouch. That was a blow to the chest. He could tell that you weren’t confident in your answer, though. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he was sure that you knew what you wanted. He took the seat next to you.

“So you’re telling me that the way you looked at me that day meant nothing? The way you kissed back just as much as I did wasn’t important?” He interrogated.

He had worked hard to build a connection before he made a move on you. He wanted to be absolutely sure that you didn’t want this. It would hurt him if you didn’t, but at least he would know it was honest. 

“Yeah. That’s exactly what I'm saying.” You said in an overly defensive growl.

You still hadn't looked at him, and he wasn’t convinced. There was something you weren’t saying.

“Look at me then. Look at me and tell me you don't want this,” He said more sternly than you’d ever heard him; “If you don't want me then say the word. I’ll walk away and never bring it up again.”

You looked at him immediately, ready to deny him once more, but couldn’t. The words didn’t come. Why was it so hard to say no to this? He bothered you something awful. He annoyed you and he drove you absolutely crazy to a point of madness. And you loved it. 

“I can’t say it,” You spoke gently; “I can’t say it, because...I know it wouldn’t be true.” 

And there it was. The real confession. He knew you hadn't admitted it to yourself. It was strange how we deny things to ourselves.

“It’s pretty obvious that we have something going. I’m crazy about you and I don’t want us to miss this chance,” He continued; “We don't have to jump right into it. I mean we could-”

In a shocking turn of events, you kissed him. Just as you had kissed a few short days ago. He smirked underneath your lips. Hook, line, and sinker. Turns out his inkling was right. And boy did he love it when he was right.

“I think we can jump right into it. We’re past the introduction stage.” You grinned.

He smiled back, throwing a wink before kissing you again.

“No complaints here.”

[alia-turin]

Request:  I wish you would write a fic where Caranthir and Imlerith are being requested by their commander to capture a human sorceress, who is known for her healing powers, compel her to divulge her secrets and spells and then kill her, but things take an unexpected turn

Honestly guys I feel so bad because you sent these awesome requests and I feel like butcher them and turn them upside down :D 

In any case couple of notes - big HC that I was introduced to is that despite everything Imlerith has soft side for animals, so I’m sorry if he sounds a bit OOO, but that whole thing is really about his soft side. If you want more Imlerith + animals, please check out @erinbeast . I have also put some ideas for Caranthir that come from an old fic I posted and another fic I’m currently working on (which I might never post but there is that). I hope y’all enjoy tagging you 

AO3 Link

Warning: mentioning of injured animal 

Caranthir stepped through the portal and Imlerith followed. Neither of them was wearing their armor, at least not in full. His friend still wore gauntlets instead of gloves and some of the metal around his legs and torso. Caranthir on the other hand was more practical, no amount of armor was going to protect them where they were going so he was just wearing his normal clothes and a cloak. He knew roughly where their final destination was supposed to be, but he wasn’t sure so he ended up getting them in the forest and they were going to figure the rest.

“I still don’t understand what Eredin’s problem with that particular sorceress is.” Imlerith groaned as Carathir led the way. He could sense the bitch so it wouldn’t be that difficult to find her at that point.

“Does it matter?” they were alone, even the usual forest sounds were somehow dulled around them. He couldn’t hear birds, just the wind brushing against the leaves. “She is a human sorceress, she is better off dead.”

Imlerith raised an eyebrow but the younger man did not see him as he was leading. Since Caranthir had joined the Red Riders the two of them had become friends. He had trained him to use a sword and spear, art Caranthir never mastered, but he had become damn good with that staff of his even when he was not using magic. He had also seen him grow, become more of a Red Rider compared to the skinny kid who left Avallac’h.

“For someone who uses magic you hate other mages way too much. Jealous they might be better than you?” He mocked but also that was something Imlerith never fully understood. One day something had snapped in Caranthir. The man never showed any real hate to anything but Avallac’h, at most he would just show lack of interest in things which in Caranthir’s cold mind was probably equal to hate. But then something happened, first it was just the darker mood but then during one of their raids he saw the Navigator break the skull of a human sorcerer. Imlerith liked violence, he inflicted it however he could, it made his blood running, but that had been something new from Caranthir. Maybe their friendship was rubbing on him or maybe it was just the Eredin effect.

“There isn’t anybody who is better…” Caranthir suddenly stopped. “Do you hear that?”

Imlerith looked around and focused, he could hear it. It sounded like a dog whining somewhere close. Without thinking Imlerith traced the sound and Caranthir was following.

It didn’t take them too far until they found the wolf lying on a bed of leaves and dirt. It was injured, an arrow was sticking from one of its hind legs and another one from its abdomen. Imlerith’s jaw clenched. He liked hunting, but he never did it for sport, it had always been for food or fur and he always made sure to finish his kill fast. He had no issue killing humanoid creatures in an extremely painful way, he even took pleasure in it, but animals were innocent. Whoever did not finish that kill deserved slow and painful death.

The wolf looked at them and showed them his teeth but he looked weak. Imlerith stepped closer, the arrow in the leg did not seem so bad, but the one in the abdomen...that was nasty wound.

Caranthir just looked at the other man as he approached the wolf, the animal was growling, but there was no bite, no danger to it.

“Imlerith, it’s dying, mercy is the best thing you can do for it.” He knew his friend felt some kinship to animals. Everyone always thought Imlerith to be mindless brute, Eredin’s rabid dog, but that was just part of the story. There is a side that almost nobody had seen.

“Maybe Avallac’h should have shown you some mercy.” the other man pointed at his face where Caranthir’s scars were.

“Maybe your mother should have shown some mercy when she saw you are barely intelligent to get dressed.” the Navigator bit back without hesitation. That’s what they did, Imlerith made fun of the scars on his face, the only person he tolerated to do that, and he made fun of Imlerith’s intelligence, just like true brothers.

Caranthir sighed. He wasn’t heartless, he just didn’t see a point in letting the poor animal suffer. He knelt next to Imlerith and placed a hand on the wolf’s head despite the sharp teeth that were barren.

“What are you doing?” Imlerith grabbed his wrist and squeezed.

“I’m not killing it. I can relate to the need to protect innocence and purity in its clearest form.” Imlerith had no idea what that meant. Caranthir had the habit to speak like Avallac’h at times, half of a conversation that made no sense to anyone. He made fun of him for that, but not now. The navigator freed his hand and placed it on the wolf again. Second later the animal was asleep and the laboured breathing was calmer. “We can break the arrows, but we should not pull them out, we need to deal with that bitch, which would be a quick job and then we can take it to Tir na Lia. It should be asleep for about two hours and it doesn’t feel pain, just make sure it doesn’t lose any more blood, because that will kill it.”

Caranthir didn’t have much hope for the animal surviving, judging by the blood around, it had been like that for some time, and his healing powers have always been the weakest from his many talents.

Imlerith scooped the wolf in his arm and followed Caranthir. He constantly looked at the animal to make sure it was still breathing. He decided he would name it Treise, a strong name for a beast like that. It wasn’t too long when they found an old log cabin deep in the woods. Caranthir did not stop, the man had no fear from some human witch, Imlerith followed but left the wolf outside, to prevent any further harm. He had seen mages fight and he also knew the pleasure Caranthir felt in making them suffer.

The Navigator was the first to enter the log cabin, bending his neck in an awkward position to get through the human sized door. Nothing impressive inside, wooden table, chairs, a bed in the far corner. The bitch was sitting next to the fireplace and turned in surprise when they walked in.

“Who…” she started a question, but he never allowed her to finish. His first attack knocked her on the ground, he wasn’t going to kill her, he was going to take his time.

Imlerith watched as Caranthir attacked the witch, she was a pretty thing for a human, small and fragile. A predator grin decorated his lips. Maybe he would let Caranthir have his fun using her to mop the floor and then he will have his type of fun.

“Wait!” the woman was on her hands and knees, her hair was a mess and there was blood running from her mouth. “I can help you.” Caranthir laughed mockingly. “I know you brought an injured animal with you, I can sense it, I’m a healer, I can help.”

Without hesitation Imlerith placed a hand on the navigator’s shoulder. Caranthir turned toward him, there was cold fire burning in his eyes. Funny how usually the roles were reversed. It had always been the younger man stopping him, but now Imlerith had other concerns than simple bloodlust.

“Why would you do that?” he asked, digging his fingers a bit deeper in the other man’s shoulder, his hand sinking in the soft first of his cloak.

“I cannot beat him.” she nodded at Caranthir. “And I don’t know why you are here but it isn’t for fortune reading. I help your wolf, you let me live.”

“No.” Caranthir said, almost offended.

“Deal.” Imlerith spoke at the same time and they both exchanged looks.

The woman wasn’t stupid and she did not wait for the two of them to sort their small differences. She got on her feet with visible effort and slowly limped toward the door.

“Please tell me the plan is to let her heal the wolf and then we kill her?” Caranthir said through his teeth, his jaw clenched. Imlerith did not answer. He wasn’t sure what the plan was. “You will tell Eredin. I’m not dealing with that.”

When they went out Caranthir walked to the nearest tree and pressed his back against it, his arms crossed over his chest, his cold eyes just pinned on the woman.

“It’s very weak.” the witch said as she placed her hand on the animal.

“Oh great, it’s very weak. Must have missed that.” the navigator said sarcastically, Imlerith couldn’t stop the smile on his lips.

The woman ignored them and started working. She pulled what was left from the arrows, thick blood started pooling on the fur but she worked quickly. She chanted a spell and pulled some herbs from her pocket that she applied to the wounds. Couple of minutes later she got up, the animal was still asleep and Imlerith got worried for a moment. Did she trick them? Did she kill the wolf as a final ‘fuck you’? If that was the case, whatever Caranthir was planning to do to her, would be nothing compared to what he would do to her.

“I cannot do anything about the lost blood.” she finally said. “And I cannot wake it up because of his spell. But once it wakes up it will be weak, it won’t be able to take care of itself until its body recovers from the loss.”

Caranthir forced an arrogant smile on his lips. Of course she couldn’t she was just a stupid human mage. It was surprising that Imlerith had been so...soft, between the two of them he had always been the nicer one, had he changed so much? No, it wasn’t that. He felt pity for the animal as well and didn’t really want it to die, but he was the logical one, Imlerith was impulsive. Where was Avallac’h now to see him? Where was his old teacher to call him rash?

“Am I free to go?” the woman asked, her eyes shifting between the two of them. Imlerith nodded, Caranthir was not really sold on the idea, but nodded as well.

He opened a portal and waited for Imlerith to grab the wolf and step through it, then he followed. They went straight to Imlerith’s apartments in the castle in Tir na Lia.

“We are not telling Eredin.” his friend finally said as he gently placed the wolf on his bed. He had never seen Imlerith being gentle with anything.

“We are not telling Eredin.” Caranthir repeated. “You are telling Eredin.”

“No.” Imlerith was still looking at the wolf. “We are waiting for a couple of days, and then we will do what we were supposed to do.”

After Caranthir didn’t speak for a while, he turned to make sure the navigator was still there.

“Why?” the younger man finally asked.

“Because that wolf means more to me than any other life out there and I’m paying her by giving her a couple of days.” Imlerith wasn’t sure if the navigator understood, neither of them was affectionate to anything. He expressed his emotions with violence and Caranthir...emotions did not come easy with him.

Caranthir nodded. He could relate, probably the reason he reacted the way he did was just because he did not expect Imlerith to be so...kind. But he could understand the desire to protect something.