#and am not sure if I plan to finish the maddening ones during my next full playthrough

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

"wow how pathetic it is of a man who isn't much of a fighter to be afraid and want to live in the middle of aggressors invading his lands"

WHY WON'T U JUST GIVE UP AND STOP DEFENDING YOUR LANDS THAT WE'RE INVADING AND ATTACKING ON TOP OF YOU LITERALLY DOING ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO US

[im-a-meme-or-so-i-hope]

It is with the greatest pain that the greatest peace can be made

TW this is dark shit and written in a high stress period. I recommend against reading this as it is rambling of an event in a world that does not exist.

Those were the last words spoken to us before we were sent into hell. Each person handed a weapon, told that history would write us as heroes in times far from now. I was still not fully sure of the words being spoken to me but nobody else asked any questions or even looked away from our priest. The priest even stood accompanied by two warrior angels so surely he was following the will of the gods.

It would not be until 3 months of fighting that it all made sense. My hands had been stained with blood not from my own body, my eyes had witnessed horrors I had only heard of from The First Heresy. The pistol I had been handed at the beginning of this was clean and freshly made but now looked like it had been used for weeks. I did not want to do this any more. None of us wanted to, but our priest continued to tell us that our god was not finished yet. Some of us were beginning to doubt the priest but his magic was the only thing keeping us safe during the nights so we couldn't do anything about it.

It was late at night that I noticed it, the moment the moon shown above them, the visage of his form fell and I saw the priest as someone else. He had green hair like that of a snake's and mouths that opened up all around his barely clothed form. He held an aura that I can't wash away from my eyes. I went to the medic, only to be told that I wasn't the first that had seen this and to just ignore it. "Our priest is the word of our god, we can't grow untrustworthy of him or we will fall into the enemy's wishes." He gave me some medicine to calm my nerves and sent me back the barracks but I couldn't un-see it now.

Over the next month of the maddening fight, I lost more comrades and people than I even knew the names of. It was becoming harder to remember the faces of those that had died, they morphed and warped into one general structure in my head. One I saw in my dreams that would tell me to keep going, tell me to make it worth it. I had to keep going or else this would all be for naught. So I kept fighting, the days became more quiet as less people had the guts to cross the no man's land we set up. One of our angels had died and the other fell into a great depression, they had to be locked up for their own safety cause they were trying to walk into no man's land without armor.

I had enough and finally gave up. I grabbed my only friend from the beginning of this damned war left and we made a plan. By the next morning we were gone. We left everything but our original pistols and fled into the forest. We walked with our hands on our heads as if we were prisoners and stepped towards the enemy side. It was a gamble if we would be killed on sight or if they would take us as prisoners of war but it beat the horrid sights.

We were luckily taken into custody and held as prisoners. We stayed side by side in our separate cells, praying for this abominable war to be over with every passing day. The god we once trusted was now subject to our prays for its downfall. Though I don't think we prayed much those days. It was kind of a blur as the same sight of the same cell, of the same food, of the same guards started to get to us. It started becoming comforting. "I'm no longer on the field. I am now under someone's direct control. I don't have to kill for my life now."

It would only be several months later that we would be told that the war was over. We couldn't believe what they told us for the longest while. We were the second heresy, the followers of Strayeth, the god of deceit. We were not out for the peace of all life, we were out for the destruction of the other faiths. We had been fighting for lies and falsehoods incarnate and we never even thought for a second that we were following a dark god. Now that I think about it, I suppose I never did learn the name of our god. Its all hazy, like I was being fed information and not allowed to throw it up.

Most of us were let go of our imprisonments but were subject to shame and hatred from the world. So we secluded ourselves. We went back to the world we used to know and burned it to the ground. We would spend hours sitting beside burning chapels and shrines. The knowledge of our idol being false allowed us to finally see all the red flags in our every day life. The way we were taught that the other gods meant to destroy our life. The way that the other people meant to take our home and our food and our livelihoods. We were sheep, following a wolf in shepherd's clothing.

Not many of us were able to live long after the war. Most succumbed to madness or fell into depression. I was lucky and managed to keep a hold on myself but life in this place was agony. I wouldn't take this life away though. I must live my life for the pain I have inflicted. Maybe my suffering now may spark happiness elsewhere. To all those who find this, I'm sorry. I truly am sorry.

[lemonjoonah]

The Garden Thief (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Word Count: 9.3K Genre: Hybrid AU, romance/drama/comedy, enemies to lovers Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem. rec.), they get down and dirty outside but no one else is there to see them, cum play? (just a little), there’s also a bit of mud (sorry, but also not sorry, they’re outside what do you want from me?!?!), referenced hybrid neglect and oppression (hybrids are wrongfully deemed as pets by law and the majority of society).  

Summary: Your beloved vegetable patch has once again been victimized by a hungry thief in the night. The prime suspect? Jeon Jungkook, your neighbour's rabbit hybrid. But when you finally confront him, he pleads innocent, and proposes a plan to clear his name.

A/N: I wrote this fic’s premise and opening scene for the ‘A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words Game’ that I played oh so long ago and now I’ve finally finished the tale!

...

“Oh for fuck’s sake, not again!” You swear upon seeing the leafy green remains of several carrots lying in your garden, inches from where they used to be buried. This maddening mystery of the vanishing vegetables has been playing out all summer. You’ve set out deterrents for every possible garden pest, rolling out chicken wire and spraying natural remedies to repel anything from bugs to small rodents. Yet you still wake to find that your garden has been robbed in the night. The only possible suspect you haven’t been able to protect against resides just next door, in fact—

You squint up at the boarded fence, spotting a pair of long dark ears peeking out over the posts. “Jungkook, is that you?”

The ears immediately disappear, ducking down behind the barrier. The sound of his hurried footsteps trailing away are followed only by the slamming of a door.

You rush into and through your own house carrying the wilted carrot greens. Exiting out the front, and over to the house next to yours, where you repeatedly press the bell.

The entry whips open on the fourth ring to reveal Jungkook. His face is flushed, beads of sweat racing down his brow, and a shirt that one would normally use to cover their chest, is instead thrown over his shoulder. “Something wrong neighbour?” He asks with a carrot stick in hand. Bringing it to his mouth, he taunts you with a bite and crooked grin.

“Is-is your caretaker home?” You stutter trying your best to swallow your nerves. Concentrating hard on his face, you plead with your eyes not to wander down. That’s exactly what he wants, a reason to put you off your mission, to make you so flustered that you have to walk away. He’s always trying to use his allure against you, and you hate how often he succeeds doing just that...  

“No, he’s at work.”

“When will he be back?”

“Not sure, maybe a week, or two? He’s on a business trip.”

Your gaze falters in it’s determination for a brief second as a drop of sweat descends from his neck to his chest. Holding your breath you watch it’s path, tracing the valleys between his muscles. When Jungkook finally wipes it away your brain catches up and scolds you for your weakness. “And he left you here, alone?”  You ask, while trying to recollect your dignity, reminding yourself of how much grief he has put you through.

“Of course.” Jungkook’s smile grows. “I’m not just some common pet. I know how to behave myself.”

The statement makes your brow twitch, enraging you enough to overcome his tactics. “I know you haven’t been here long, but you should know, people typically don’t like it when someone steals from their yard.” You lecture him, waving the carrot tops in front of his face. “So stop treating my garden like your own personal snack bar!”

“Now why would I take from you? I have plenty of food here, even got another delivery this morning.”  The hybrid kicks at a box next him filled with a vibrant collection of fresh produce and grains.

“I don’t know why. I just know it was you.”

“Prove it.” He prods, while taking the last bite of the vegetable from his hand.

The loud crunching gnaws on your composure, stripping you of any patience you may have had for the hybrid. “This all started when you moved in, and I’ve ruled everything else out!” You shout, but as good as it might feel to finally vent your anger, you feel as though you’re somehow playing into his hand.

“That doesn’t seem like very good evidence. It’s circumstantial at best. If you want to find out who the real culprit is you should have a stake out.”

“A stake out?”

“Yeah, you know, watch over the garden for the night, catch the criminal in the act. I could even help if you’d like.”

You scoff at the ridiculous notion. “You really think I should invite you over to guard my crops?”

“I do, so I’ll come over tonight? Say around seven?” You open your mouth to object, but the rabbit hybrid jumps from one statement to the next casually inviting himself into your own home. “Perfect. See you then.”

“I didn’t-no wait, that was sar-” The door closes between you before you can finish. Leaving you baffled and alone on the doorstep. You ready to knock but stop just before your knuckles hit the wood. Trying again right now is a lost cause, it’ll just play into his game. So why waste your breath when you know it’ll just end the same way? Tonight then, as he suggested, that’s when you’ll be ready to hit him with some hard evidence that he won’t be able to refute.

Admitting defeat for now, you retreat back to your garden to pick the surviving vegetables and contemplate the encounter. You wish your could have just spoken to Jungkook’s caretaker—fuck what was his name again? You’ve only seen the man a couple times since they took the house, but at least he doesn't give you a nervous knot in your stomach, or leave you confused and speechless like his hybrid does.

It’s been three months since they moved in. You were excited at first, to have new neighbours in your almost vacant cul-de-sac. Buyers don’t seem to be interested in the old houses with large lots in your area. Too much work to maintain, and not enough good job prospects to go around. So when you saw the sold sign go up you were beyond thrilled. Greeting the new residents with a fruit basket and a smile.

The rabbit hybrid you now know as Jungkook appeared rather shy at first, you did your best to welcome him. Always greeting him when he was outside, trying to engage him in small chat, but the first time you caught him during his workout everything changed. Until that point you had not considered him as anything but a prospective friend. You were stunned to see him in such a confident state, throwing around his weights like they were nothing. In that moment, with you too nervous to admit that you found him attractive, you became the anxious and blubbering fool in his presence, and he, unfortunately, took note. The once quiet and cute rabbit, became a flirtatious and bratty bunny.

And since then, whenever you would work in your garden he’d be on the other side of the fence grunting and panting. Staying close to the gap in the divider, a missing panel you had yet to replace. On days like today you would often look up from your radishes and accidentally lock eyes with the hybrid, drenched in sweat and showing off his skills.

Out of respect and self preservation you tried your best to not to pay attention, to keep your nose buried in your garden, but as the weeks went by the vegetables under your care started to disappear. The ample crops you tended to in the evening, lessened by morning, with only the refuse remaining to indicate it’s former presence. You didn’t want to point fingers immediately, but today was the final straw, and tonight no matter how hard he tries to distract you, you will find him guilty.

After harvesting the choice crops for the day and watering the rest. You dust yourself off, settling inside and in front of your computer; opening the visitors page for your place of work, the city's greenhouse conservatory. To help promote the centre in the community the staff all take turns writing articles revolving around their own projects or home gardens, and you’re up next in the rotation. You stare at the blank document for several minutes trying your best to concentrate on the task, but you are unable to think of anything other than the mischievous hybrid next door.

Embracing the topic of your aggravation, you start the post off with a title sure to catch the eye of any reader, ‘Garden Thieves.’

‘We’ve all been there, finding a tomato just about to reach its peak ripeness. We give it another day to grow into perfection, only to find it missing later on. In your absence something else has taken it into its own clutches. I myself have been dealing with a vegetable thief for several weeks, so if you are struggling like I am, here are a few things that might help. ’

You proceed to outline several garden pests uploading photos of their damage, along with quick remedies to deter their presence. Netting to block the sparrows, raised beds and fences to keep out most rodents or mammals, and a caffeine solution to stave off slugs.

‘I hope this may help you all in your efforts to keep your plants safe, but I must add a disclaimer. Unfortunately nothing here is completely foolproof. Even if you do follow all of these steps you still might lose some of your crops to a crafty critter. But I wish you the best of luck on all of your backyard battles. I myself plan to face off with my own long-eared menace tonight.’

You finish your post with a smile. Sending it off to your coworker Namjoon to get his approval before you make it public.

He calls a few minutes later, his laughter carrying through the speaker. “That was easily the best article you’ve written all year. You should definitely post it.”

“Thanks.” You chuckle, hitting the submit button. At the very least feeling a bit relieved to have one less task weighing on your mind. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I take it you’re still having trouble with that hybrid neighbour of yours?”

“Yeah,” you groan. You’ve complained to Namjoon about the issue several times in the past month. It must have been all too easy for him to read between the lines and see what set you off to create this specific entry.  “But he refuses to admit it was him. It’s like he’s trying to make me question my skills as a gardener and I hate it! I went over to talk to his caretaker but he’s away on business for a couple weeks.”

“He left him alone for that long? What about food?”

“He’s been getting deliveries. By the looks of it, he has a healthier diet than I do.”

Namjoon pauses on the line giving you only a simple, “Huh...” in a long break.

“What?”

“Well it’s just-” A loud buzzing sound erupts through the phone line cutting off his answer. A noise you know to indicate someone is at the back door. “That’s weird. I didn’t think we were supposed to get anything delivered today. No one else is here.... did you have anything scheduled to come in?”

“No.” You double check the calendar sitting on your desk. “I shouldn’t have anything until next Monday.”  

Namjoon puts you on hold while he checks on the reason for the interruption, returning only a minute later. “It’s a delivery all right, but are you sure these aren’t yours? I’m seeing a lot of tropical species on the invoice. Combretum rotundifolium, Heliconia angusta, Myrciaria dubia-”

You mouth a swear as Namjoon carries on with his list. It’s obvious they are indeed the specimens of your expected batch. You're in the process of redesigning one of the tropical habitats. The lead director was adamant that the conservatory host a butterfly exhibition in the next coming year, and in order to support the grandiose endeavour you are required to introduce a vast amount of new flowering species over the next few months. “How many in total?”

“About two dozen. Looking pretty rough from the journey too.”

You’re not surprised by their current state. This summer is already one of the hottest and driest on record, and all the stock you had received this season was excessively wilted and near death because of it. “Do we have any holding houses with humidifiers available?”

“Not at the moment,” There’s a clatter in the background as Namjoon sorts through what must be the slack of clipboards. “But I’ve got the inspection chart here and your last delivery did just finish it’s quarantine. No signs of pests or illness, so they’re clear to plant. That should free up some space for you.”

“That’ll have to do. Thanks for checking.” Standing up from your desk with a sorrowful sigh. You mourn the loss or your afternoon off as you start to dress for a day of hard labour. Throwing on your work-issued overalls over your t-shirt and shorts. Unfortunately you can’t just leave the new stock to sit out under the beating sun. With little humidity outside and no protection they’ll be burnt to a crisp if you delay too long. But the worst part is that your planting staff isn’t scheduled until later in the week, and that volume of work will put you well into the middle of the night before you complete it. “I’ll be in soon to deal with it.”

“That’s a lot of planting to do on your own. I can help if you-”

“I can’t take you away from your trees, isn’t there a bonsai exhibition next week you have to prepare them for?” He’s been agonizing over this showcase for so long you couldn’t possibly inconvenience him now with your own troubles. “It’s fine, really. I’ll call to see if anyone else is willing to come in today.” You hang up letting Namjoon return to his tasks, and work your way down the contacts for the gardening staff as you prepare yourself to leave. Though as expected, all of those who answer have prior commitments and won’t be able to assist.

Grabbing your badge and plans for the updates to the garden you slip back out into the noon-day sun, so strong it’s turned your car into an oven on wheels. You’re just about to pull it into reverse when you spot the blinds shift in your neighbour’s window. Prompting you to recall the plans he had made for tonight.

With all the work you have, it’s doubtful you’ll be back home for seven. You return to Jungkook’s door to give him the news. He has it open before you can even knock, his usual smirk crawling across his face as he greets you.  

“About tonight... something has come up at work and I really don’t know how late I’ll be.”

His ears perk up. “You’re going into the conservatory?”

“Yeah,” you respond, somewhat shocked that he remembered where you work. It’s been a couple months since you mentioned it while introducing yourself to him and his caretaker. “An order came in earlier than expected. I’ll likely be planting all day and night.”

“I can help,” he offers, already stepping out to join you, and locking the door behind him.

“You want to help?”

“Of course, isn’t that the neighbourly thing to do?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want it or expect it from someone who terrorizes my own garden.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook corrects. “And wouldn’t you rather have me with you, under your supervision, than here, all alone with only a measly fence between me and your impressive bell pepper harvest?”

“Stay away from my peppers!” You scold, pointing your finger at him. “Even if I wanted to take you, what about your caretaker? Don’t you need his permission to leave and work?”

“He’s never paid attention to my whereabouts before, and it’s not work if you don’t pay me. I’ll just be a volunteer. You have people volunteer all the time right?”

“Yes but-”  

“I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Alright, fine.” You finally agree though with a heavy dose of reluctance. Namjoon often brings his own hybrid in so it shouldn’t be a problem. “But if I see you nibble on even a single leaf, you’re coming straight back here.”

“Deal.” He rushes past you straight to your passenger seat and buckles himself in. Practically bouncing with excitement beside you as you pull out and head towards the conservatory.

The minutes pass and you try your best to focus on the road but you’ve never been so close to Jungkook in such a small space. And with his built frame taking up most of the car, he’s hard for you to ignore. His ears folded against the roof and his shoulders so wide they brush repeatedly against yours.

“Ever been to the conservatory before?” You ask, trying to divert your mind from the battle which builds inside you. A wavering war between frustration and attraction, with the former trying it’s best to pin down the latter, a move which only arouses the latter more...

“No, I’ve wanted to go ever since you mentioned it but my caretaker hasn’t had the time.”

“Oh.” A sense of pity joins the ranks of your emotions, nudging at you as you pull into the lot. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Why are you sorry?” Jungkook asks in a low whisper, snapping back to his flirtatious behaviours. His mouth turns up at the corner as he leans into you, so close that his drooping ears graze the top of your head.  “Would you have taken me earlier if I had mentioned it?”

“N-no,” you choke out. Placing your hand on his solid chest, you push him back and away. As tempting as his advance might be to accept, you know his forwardness to be nothing more than an act to make a fool of you. Why else would he try to both seduce you, and steal from right under your nose?  “You’re only here today because I am in desperate need of help, and I can’t trust you to be alone.”

...

You lead him through the unoccupied greenhouses. The conservation is closed to the public today (as it is every Monday and Tuesday); which usually allows for some time off, but at least now it’ll give you a chance to work unimpeded by visitors. Your own curated section is located in the most humid of all the houses, set in such a way to mimic the tropical environment you are attempting to represent.

The first stop is the holding house where the carts of new stock wait just outside.  Grabbing an empty trolly you enter and start to load up those that are ready to plant. Jungkook following your actions does the same, easily lifting the heavy planters that you yourself struggle with. “Thanks,” you whisper as he relieves you of a particularly burdensome tree. To which he smiles in return.

After making the switch, by placing the recent delivery in the house for it’s quarantine, you lead him to the supply closet. Where you collect a couple shovels, trowels, and two pairs of gloves. As you continue to scan for anything else you might require, Jungkook pops in behind looking at the shelves with a sense of curiosity. He reaches up and over you to a spray bottle labeled ‘slug repellent.’

“We won’t need that, it’s for the outdoor gardens,” You explain. “It’s just a mixture of ca-”

“Caffeine and water?”

You snap your gaze to him. “How do you know that?”

He bites his lip as a snicker starts to escape. “Just a bit of morning reading. I found an interesting article with that particular tidbit. One which also happened to reference the exploits of a long-eared menace.”

“Y-you read the conservatory blog? You read my post? No one reads that, there can’t have been more than ten views!”

“Which is such a shame.” He goads you. “I’ve found your work to be both informative and comical. You really have me rooting for you in your quest to catch your thief.”

You groan in utter fury. “Why must you be so-so-”

“Handsome? Funny? Caring?”

“Antagonizing!”

“Because you seem to take more notice when I am.” Jungkook answers, with a turn of his heel, his tail poking out from under his shirt as he starts to walk away with the cart. “And I like seeing that perplexed look of yours. Your nose is cute when you scrunch it up like that.”

You remain in the shed, your traitorous heart beating erratically over the fact that he called a part of you cute. While your more sensible side grabs your nose and smooths out the wrinkles he referenced.

“Should we get to work?” He calls out after you. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go home and expose that bandit of yours.”

You roll your eyes and follow him out, before taking the lead to your tropical glasshouse. The air sticks to your skin the moment you enter. Jungkook lets out a long exhale behind you tugging on the collar of his shirt. “Is it always like this in here?”

“It’s a bit warmer today, but not by much. Are you already regretting your decision to help?” You tease him.

“Nope,” he answers, slinging a shovel over his shoulder. “Show me where to dig, and I’ll get to it.”

Pulling out your plans for the new exhibit arrangement, you select a couple species placing them on the empty plots of garden as directed, careful to allow for future growth. Jungkook follows behind digging out their new homes faster than at least three of your staff members combined.

You stare at him for a second, unable to believe the pace at which he’s going. “Something wrong?” He asks, pausing to lock eyes with you.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d be so quick at digging.”

“I’m part rabbit, what did you expect?” Jungkook boasts with a chuckle and a raised brow. “I share their strengths. Especially when it comes to burrowing and fu-”      

His words are cut short when a fresh breeze from the outside washes over the both of you, a  sure sign that someone must have entered the greenhouse. Your neighbour goes rigid, his nose lifts into the air and his ears fall back flat against his head. “Jungkook what’s-” Leaping up he closes the gap and grabs you. Tucking you into him with his chin resting on your head, where a  warm and earthy scent envelopes you.  His breaths are quick and deep, causing his chest to rapidly rise and fall against your back.

Namjoon’s voice calls out to you. “... are you in here?”

“Over here!” You yell out in reply, before turning back to the hybrid who still has you locked in his clutches. “What the hell Jungkook? Let me go! Now’s not the time for your games.” Sure it might feel nice to be wrapped in his arms, to get lost amidst his aroma. At any other time you might even consider taking a moment before chastising his boldness. But here? Now? And with Namjoon coming to greet you? No, this is too much.

You try to push him away like you have before, but this time it’s as if he’s set in stone, and not registering you at all. He focuses only on the direction your coworker's voice hailed from. “That scent, he smells like-”

“There you are.” Namjoon interrupts stepping around a flowering bush and into view, looking surprised by your guest. “Oh, hello there.”

The point of Jungkook's chin rubs against your head as he grips you even tighter. Embarrassed and confused by the hybrids embrace. “Jungkook, this is Namjoon.” You introduce your coworker while delivering an elbow to Jungkook’s gut. He finally snaps out of his trace and lets you go though he continues to hover behind. “He works with the bonsai of the conservatory.”

“You must be the neighbour I’ve heard so much about, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Namjoon extends his hand to the hybrid, but Jungkook ignores the gesture, choosing to glare instead, with his nostrils flared and his ears pinned back.

“Jungkook?” You whisper trying to chase him from his mood.

Namjoon gives him a nervous smile. “You probably smell my hybrid, on me don’t you?”

“A hybrid?” Jungkook confirms, his eyes narrowed at Namjoon.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t intend to scare you. I’m sure the scent of a predator, especially a tiger, is a bit of a shock. He’s harmless, I promise.”

“Is Taehyung here?” You ask, hoping to see his affectionate part-feline companion.  

“Nah, he’s with a friend today. I needed to get some work done and he’d be more of a distraction than a help... but it would seem that didn’t stop him from scenting my shirt before I left.” Namjoon explains, and then turns to your neighbour again. “Jungkook would you mind if I borrow her for a second? I need help with one of my tropical species.”

Jungkook gives a solemn nod. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looks frightened, and somewhat hesitant to release you over to your coworker.

Worried by his current disposition, you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm. “Just keep digging where I’ve placed those pots and I’ll be right back.”

Namjoon leads you into the adjacent greenhouse where you can continue to keep watch of Jungkook through the pains of glass. But the instant the doors close between you, Namjoon starts bombarding you with questions. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long has it been going on? ”

You take a step back having been caught off guard. “Tell you what?”

“About you and Jungkook! Is the feuding neighbours just a cover story?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide and hopeful as he carries on, not letting you fit a single word in. “Don’t worry, I won’t inform anyone you're together. I know it’s not easy having a human-hybrid relationship out in the open. But I think you should be careful about going out into public because he’s far too obvious about it.”

“We’re not- we’re not a couple. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because the way held you, he looked like he was marking you with his own scent. That’s what rabbits do isn’t it? They rub their chins on what they want to claim as their own.”

“They do what?” You ask, stunned by the possibility, before the realism settles back in. It must just be Jungkook’s idea of a joke. “No, that’s not what he’s doing, our connection is nothing remotely like that. Don’t get me wrong he’s very attractive, and he knows it.” You mutter the last part under your breath. “But-”

“But you really are having trouble with him. It's not a cover?”

“You think I would keep something like that from you?” Namjoon over the years has come to be your closest confidant. A good friend and coworker, you would never dream of hiding something like that from him.

“I suppose not.”

“Is that why you brought me back here, to question my relationship status?”

“Not entirely.” Namjoon shakes his head with a small dimpled smile and changes the subject. “I do actually want to get your help with one of my new acquisitions.” He points out an unusual tree on his work bench, much too big for the pot it’s currently situated in. It’s extensive roots spill out over the top and threaten to swallow the pot whole. “A Ficus microcarpa, far from the most sought after species when it comes to reputable bonsai, but I couldn’t pass this one up. It has such good character.”

“What made it grow in such a way?” You examine the plant and it’s container with care, prying between the roots and taking note of cracks starting to form in the terracotta.

“The last owner neglected it for far too long. It sat hidden in the back of a commercial greenhouse, still under the watering and fertilizing system, but since it was confined to such a small space it tried to root it’s way out. If I were to guess, it probably hasn’t seen a new pot for at least five years.”

“It’s a miracle it survived.” You nod impressed by the tree’s determination. “What’s your plan for it?”

“Give it what it wants, let it leach out. I doubt I would be able to pry it out entirely without causing significant damage to the roots that are gripping the sides, so instead I want to put another bellow to catch it and give it the fresh soil and room it needs.” Namjoon lays the tree and pot down on the table, and asks you to hold and support the trunk, while he taps and pokes at the bottom of the vessel with a metal trowel.  Enlarging the cracks, but not breaking the pot fully. It’s a tedious process. The small chunks of clay are removed piece by piece, giving him access to see and free some of the tightly bound roots inside.

While your coworker continues his task, your eyes are free to wonder. You check on Jungkook through the glass, as he kneels in front of the garden bed digging even faster than before.

Namjoon appears to notice your distracted state. “How's he doing?”

“Fine I guess.” You whisper. “He’s acting stranger than usual today though. He stole from my garden again. Invited himself over to my house, then here, and you saw what he did back there.”

“Huh...” Namjoon mutters, trailing off the same way he did on the phone.

“What is this ‘huh’ you keep giving me? You know I don’t like games Namjoon. If you have something you want to say, say it.”

“It’s about what you said earlier, how his caretaker leaves for extended periods of time. Usually if an animal is alone for too long they look for ways to stimulate themselves and resort to their natural instincts, scavenging and such. But he’s a hybrid and therefore part human, so if you were isolated and restricted to your house what would you do?”

“Probably look for the closest person I could find. So he’s acting out in my garden and teasing me, because he’s lonely?”

“I think so.” Namjoon responds as he extracts another root, freeing it from its confines.

“But why?” You ask, worried for the answer to come. “Why wouldn’t he just say something?”

“There could be a number of reasons. He might not understand what he’s doing on a conscious level, or he might be afraid to show any sign of weakness to you or anyone else. Jungkook is part prey animal, and humans are all too often predators.”

“If that’s the case...” You curse yourself for not realizing it sooner. The fury you held for him slowly fades away as you replay every encounter in your mind. He was literally jumping at the chance to spend time with you, to help you with your work, and you were to blind to see it. Your anger over your missing vegetables is so trivial in comparison to what he must have been going through. The loneliness he must have felt, and the inability to admit it, you can’t imagine how he suffered through it alone. “What can I do to help him? I have no legal claim to him Namjoon. What can I do within such limitations?”

He looks down at his work in progress. “The way I see it  you and he, like this small tree, have three options. You could maintain the status quo, leave him be, but how long will he be able to survive like he is? Creeping over the edge but grasping on to nothingness?”

You shake your head vehemently rejecting the idea while Namjoon continues.

“You could report his caretaker for neglect, breaking the container entirely, but that too could be very damaging to him, tearing him away entirely could put him in a state of shock, and in a home that is no better for him, while the legal battle is decided. Or...” Namjoon grabs another container, slightly wider than the one in which the plant is seated. Filling it with substrate he takes the tree clinging to it’s partial pot and places it on top. Pressing the newly freed roots down into the soil.

“You could support him, give him a better home just outside of his own where he can be himself and access what he needs. I personally think it’s your safest option for now.” Namjoon leads over inspecting the bonsai and lowers his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. “Until the day, when it is possible to fully cast the pot aside.”

You nod, though now left to grapple with what you could possibly have to offer the hybrid.  “I’m not sure I would be the best person to care for him.”

“I think Jungkook would disagree. He was already trying to scent you. That to me, implies his desire for something more in the realm of an intimate relationship.” You choke on your breath as Namjoon comes to an additional conclusion. Upon seeing your distress he makes a suggestion. “Of course you could keep it strictly to friendship between the two of you and I’m sure that will improve his situation, but his other needs will need to be met for him to feel completely at home...”

“His other needs? You think he wants to be with me? Intimately?! No! Surely he would have acted differently if that was his intent! He’s done nothing but tease me when he catches me even remotely looking in his direction.”

“So you have been looking at him!” Namjoon taunts you with a massive grin. Apologizing a second later when you proceed to glare at him. “But to answer your question, no, not necessarily. You have to remember most of society deems him a lesser being. He could be feeling a lot of guilt and pressure not to engage with you in that way. Though he might not outright say it, I bet his instincts will continue to shine through. I’ll even prove it to you.” Namjoon takes off a glove and rubs your head. “I bet this rabbit of yours will take less than a minute before he tries to replace the smell of my hand with his own again... trust me.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I should probably get back to him.” You are just about to step away when your thoughts return to the long neglected plant. “Where do you plan to house that when you’re finished? Ficuses naturally belong in a more tropical location don’t they?”

“They do, especially if I want to give it a better chance. It’s going to need a place far more humid than this space.”

“Was this all your calculated way of guilting me to store it in my greenhouse too?”

“The thought might have crossed my mind.” Namjoon gives you a sly grin.  “But my logic is still sound in regards to Jungkook. He needs someone, he needs a better home... and it would seem he’s chosen you.”

...

You wander back to your greenhouse, still full of doubt. Finding Jungkook to have finished most of the required digging.

“Sorry for leaving you.”

“You-you okay?” He asks, upon seeing the dazed look on your face and then scowling in the direction that Namjoon led you.

“Fine, he just needed help with one of his plants. Sorry about earlier, I didn’t think you’d be affected by the scent of his hybrid, Taehyung is rather sweet though, you’d like him.”

“You trust him then?” Jungkook grumbles as he pierces his shovel into the ground. “You trust Namjoon and his hybrid?”

“Of course, why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it wasn’t just a tiger that I smelled. He’s been around a lot of hybrids. Every scent on him told me to run, all of them put there by dangerous predators.”

“Oh,” you shoot back in surprise. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Taehyung is rather popular, he has a lot of friends and Namjoon often caters them at his place. You don’t need to worry, you're safe here.”

“It’s not myself I’m worried about.”

Jungkook inches closer as you crouch to place the plants in the holes he dug. His nose twitches as he takes a deep breath, his eyes watching while you bury the root ball in the warm soil, firmly securing the trunk of the young tree.

While you are leaning down, Jungkook reaches across to the other side of you. Grabbing the trowel to your right despite the fact that the same tool can be found on his left. The bottom of his chin grazes the top of your head and lingers for a spell. Your heart stops in that moment while questioning his motives. Though Namjoon said he’d do just this, you still can’t be entirely sure that it proves him correct; Jungkook might just not have seen the other option available to him, and he’s never bothered about invading your space. This could be nothing, though there’s a small growing part of you that wants it more and more to be something.

“He’s a good guy,” you promise, returning to the conversation so as to not dwell on his actions. “He even suggested that I should bring you along more often, if you’re interested in spending some of your days here.”

“He did?”

You nod.  A small white lie, but not entirely incorrect, and if it gets him to accept Namjoon easier you’ll all be better for it. “I wouldn’t expect you to work, but you're more than welcome to just hang around. The staff here could always use some company and I’m sure it would beat staying at home alone all day.”

“I would like that. I would like that a lot, but would you want me to keep you company too?”

“If that’s what you want to do.”

“No, I need to know if that’s what you want.” He looks over to you pinning you down in his line of sight.  

“I suppose I would....” You answer and turn your head, unable to bear the nerves that his gaze brings. The both of you fall quiet. Knowing what you know now, being free of your anger for him leaves you vulnerable, open to his persuasion, and now you are no longer certain of how to act. So you start to rely on what has made him comfortable in the past, and interject with a new condition to bring an end to the awkward silence. “As long as you treat this garden better than mine back home.”

Jungkook lets out a long laugh. “I have nothing but the highest respect for your garden.”

...

When planting is finished your clothes are entirely saturated in sweat and your muscles aching from use. It’s hard to believe how much you’ve both done in such a short amount of time. While carting up the supplies, Jungkook’s eyes catch on something behind you. You look around spotting the newly potted bonsai on a back table. Namjoon must have dropped it off while you both were busy.

Looking at it now you can’t help but notice how even the shape of its leaves remind you of the hybrid’s ears, long, pointed, and reaching up to the sky. You consider your friend's words one more time and while Jungkook leans over to inspect the tree. Reaching out to his back, your hand shakes with hesitation before setting down on a spot just below his shoulder. He softens under your touch, a low hum leaving his lips. His attention turns from the plant to you. With your hand still in place, your arm is now wrapped around him, leaving only an inch between the two of you. You stand there fixed and unmoving, but content in the knowledge, that you seem to have left him speechless this time. His eyes darting away from yours, to your lips, your neck, and finally the hand you place upon his chest.  

Only to have the moment broken when you can hear and feel the rumble from his stomach. His nervous laugh follows as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear.

“Hungry?”

He nods in response, his eyes wide as he remains unusually silent.

“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.” You offer as you turn him around to head to the car.

...

You both settle on a take out spot, and return home to wash up and eat.

After finishing your meal and tearing off your overalls, you both settle down on the hammock in your yard. With Jungkook’s legs long enough to touch the ground, he slowly rocks the seat back and forth.  He’s been near silent since that close moment together. He’s never had a problem with banter and flirtation, but now you’ve come to notice that any attention which can’t be passed off as a joke causes him to flounder.

Laying back in the hammock, both full and content, your eyes threaten to close after the long day as Jungkook continues to sit beside you. The sound of crickets lulling you to sleep. “Keep an eye out for that thief of mine will you?” You may not like games but if it makes him comfortable, and keeps him talking, you’ll continue to play this ruse with him.

“You trust me to keep watch without your supervision?”

“Are you suggesting I shouldn’t?”

“No, it’s just a lot more credit than you usually give me.”

“I think you’ve earned it.” You whisper as you finally drift off.

It feels like only a few minutes of rest before the sun sets and the air turns cool. Jungkook’s chin comes to rest on the top of your head like it did back in the greenhouse. He shifts his weight, burrowing his arms around and behind to cover you as he takes deep breaths. You lean into him seeking the warmth of his chest. No longer restricted by your childish anger to enjoy his company is a welcome relief, you only wish you could relinquish him of any of his own troubles and doubts.  And then, you feel it, a drop of cold rain hitting your neck. The hammock moves again as he adjusts, the back of his fingers running across the damp spot. Another finds your cheek and he wipes that away too, your skin shivering in response.

But when a speck lands your mouth he stops. You wait, a second, then two. Your anticipation grows with face heating up and your chest tightening as you continue to crave his touch. You want him to wipe it away, to touch you, to act on whatever desires he might be keeping. You part your lips with the desperate hope that he will take the hint. Rejoicing when the warm pad of his thumb spreads the drop across the delicate skin.

He comes down on to you, his mouth catching any and all remains of the droplet as he encases your lips. Jungkook places a hand on your neck while the other grabs the ropes of the hammock, his legs straddle your hips. The scattered rain turns to a downpour as he remains fixed to your mouth, even his form isn’t enough to shield you from the current washing down from the sky.

As your hands reach up to his own damp and curling locks entwining your fingers in the strands he moans and nips. But as quickly as it started, so too does it end. When Jungkook snaps up as though jolted from a dream. His ears point back as an apology flows from him. “I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Jungkook,” you call out to him but he ignores you as he tries to detangle himself. When one foot hits the ground. You grab his waist and try again. “Jungkook, you don’t have to be sorry.” But instead of stopping he merely pulls you off and along with him, sending you both to the muddy ground, but this time with you on top of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks the loud pouring of the rain forcing him to raise the volume of his voice.

You chuckle at his concern considering he’s the one flat on his back. “I think I should be asking you that question instead.” You pause as he mirrors your grin. “Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He looks up at you, his brow furrowing. “You did nothing wrong. It was me. I was the one acting on my instincts. I shouldn’t have done that when I know how much you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you...” You explain, trying your best not to be drowned out by the water cascading down. “The things you did might have annoyed me, but I get it now. I’m just sorry it took me so long to notice.”

“Notice what?”

“How fucked up your situation is. For not realizing how alone you must have been. How caged you must have felt. I’ve been so focused on my own little world that I didn’t realize what was happening or why you were acting the way you were. I like you, a lot, but I was too wrapped up in my frustration to say how I felt...”

“It’s not your fault.”

You shake your head. “I am not innocent in this. I should have been paying more attention.”

“Then pay attention to me now.” He begs with his round eyes shining up at you.  

“But in what way? As a neighbour, as a friend, or maybe something more?" Your voice cracks in desperation, trying to find his needs while also hoping they are the same as yours. “Is that why you were always teasing me the way you did? You wanted something more?”

“You really want to know?” Jungkook’s tone is low as it grips on to his every word. “I did it because it was the only thing that could distract me from my incessant need for you. Seeing your reactions and having your attention kept me in check. I’m very different from you and I’m aware it could cause a problem. I wasn’t sure if you could ever fully want me because of that.” He reaches to rub around the base of his ears. “But every day that I looked over I wanted to hold you, to claim you, to take you right here on this very spot. So often I dreamed of jumping the fence and coming for you instead of...”

You smile down at him, noting his near admission. “Instead of?”

“Instead of watching from a distance.” He smirks, catching and narrowly fixing his statement. Pleading guilty only to his longing for you.

“Then do it.” You demand of him.

He groans from his position beneath you. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m not. You weren’t the only one peeking through the fence Jungkook.” Reaching up to your collar you tug off your shirt. He follows your lead with his own to reveal his sculpted chest he’s taunted you with so many times. “I don’t care if we’re different from each other. I don’t care if it causes a problem.” You shift back on his body traveling from your seat near his stomach down to his hips, his clothed dick firm and pressing against you. A moan escapes his lips, confirming that you’ve made your point. “There’s no one else nearby, so if you want me so much that you’re willing to fuck me out here, in the rain and mud-”  

His hands come to grip your waist, and in one swift motion, he lifts you off, maneuvering out from underneath, to fall into place behind you. From there he pushes you down to your hands and knees, his body bent over yours. “You have no idea how much I want to.” He whispers with a kiss to your bare shoulder damp from the rain that continues to pour.

He takes off your bra before his face moves down your back, nose trailing against your skin and pausing at your shorts. Unfastening the button he pulls them down, freeing you of your underwear too before they are both cast aside. “I want to smell you, and taste you.” Jungkook takes in a deep breath, wrapping an arm around your legs, and barring your thighs. He buries his face between your legs, his tongue reaching out to deliver a long lick to your folds pausing after every lap.

Your palms dig into the ground, the cool mud coming to the surface to meet them. You buck against his tongue but the forearm holding you remains firm, sending your squirming downward to bury your elbows in the soggy grass too.

Jungkook chuckles as you inadvertently give him a better angle. From behind you can hear the zipper of his own shorts. Rubbing the head of his cock against your damp folds, he covers it with the slick of your slit, and with a long groan he eases it inside. He’s slow at first, letting you savor the girth and warmth of him. So you start to edge back and forward on his cock. Taking the time to enjoy every inch, along with the sounds that leave him. But when he returns to take control, the first thrust is so powerful, his thighs hit your ass with a loud clap, and every jolt of his hips after, drives you further down each time.

A stuttering groan escapes him as he fills you. Thinking he’s finished you lean forwards and until his cock pulls out, but in response he grabs your waist. Turning you over, back to the ground on top of the discarded clothes and facing him.

He lowers himself pressing his chest against yours. His fingers reach to grab your chin and take a kiss. His cock, despite having come only moments before, is hard once more and poised to enter once again.

“How are you-” You manage to squeeze a few words in the gaps between his kisses as he draws breath. “Ready for more-” Another pass of his tongue. “Already?”

“You have my hybrid traits to thank for that.” He moves to nibble on the side of your throat. “I have more to give you, if you want it.”

You nod unable to emit any noise other than a gasp as his mouth finds a sensitive spot on your neck. His dick forges in again, your slick and his cum dripping out of you as he fills you with himself instead.

You’ve avoided touching him with your own hands as they are patched with mud, but as his thrusts grow more powerful than even before, you’re forced to grab on his arms and chest. Leaving behind streaks of dirt which display the path of your grip. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact looks rather encouraged by your touch, and the marks you leave him.

“What a dirty woman you are, and getting me all messy too.” He scoffs while admiring your handiwork. “Can I return the favour?”

“Help me come first and you can do whatever the fuck you want.” You gasp on the brink of your climax.  

His ears perk up and a grin streaks across his face. “Close are you?” He grabs your calf and wraps your leg around his back, the other follows suit and his hand comes to rest on your lower back pushing you up and into him effectively grinding your mount against him.

You gasp and flinch with the sudden pressure, but he holds you firm as your back arches to meet him.

His hips beat on at a rapid pace, a small whimper escapes him as you reach the peak, tipping you over the edge. The chilling rain can in no way can douse the searing heat that spreads through you. You're still gasping when his jaw clamps down hard, his teeth poised upon your skin. The first pulse of his cock comes inside, but on the second he pulls out to splatter your chest and stomach with the rest. His hand comes to clutch his shaft, spilling more out and on to you with each stroke.

After every remaining drop has been cast on you he smiles, dragging his fingers across the rain drenched mess of mud and cum on your skin. “Never thought I’d ever see you so thoroughly soiled.”

You giggle at his remarks through your deep breaths. “And now that you do, what do you think?”

“I think it suits you, the dirt, the rain, and me...” He lowers himself down onto you, with his head now resting upon your shoulder. “It’s too bad though. Now I just want more, but we’re both far too filthy to carry on like this.”  

You turn to whisper at the base of his ear. “Who says we can’t continue in the shower...”

...

You wake early the next morning with the sun spilling into the room, lighting up your bed, and the hybrid sleeping next to you. His ears and nose twitching as he continues to rest. Slipping out from the covers, and into a set of clean gardening clothes, you exit the room with as little sound as possible.

On the tile floor of your hall, muddy footprints trail from your backdoor to your bathroom.  A smile pulls at your lips as you recall the events which brought them there. Jungkook had been so excited to keep going he picked you up and rushed you inside.

The feeling from the warm water and hands in contrast to the cool rain was enough to bring back the waves of pleasure. He was so thorough in washing you down, you might have to ask him to join you for another this morning and repay the favour.  

Outside in the garden you find all your harvest from the day before present and untouched. You’re pleased by this new development, but it’s not the fact that your crops are intact which makes you happy, it’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook didn’t feel the need to take them.

A few minutes later the hybrid in question comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist pulling with him a blanket he took from the bed to cover the both of you. “Morning.” He mumbles, as his nose finds the crook of your neck where he exhales with a deep and relaxed sigh.

“Morning.” You respond, enjoying the tickle of his breath before you turn around to better see him. “It seems the thief didn’t strike last night. ”

“I guess they found a new garden to plunder and devour?” Jungkook suggests, giving you a sly grin, before he opens his mouth again. It’s easy to see that he’s getting ready to confess, his face shifts to a stern expression as he looks down at the ground, the guilt weighing heavily upon his brow. Placing your index to his lips you stop him. No longer needing to hear those words of admission, you offer a new proposal instead.

“Maybe, but that was just one night. The thief might still come back. So if it’s alright with you I would like you to stay here. Until we can be sure they won’t return.”

Jungkook lets out a satisfied chuckle, pushing aside your finger and pulling you tighter into his warm embrace. “You’re right, I suppose it would be safer if I stayed.” His lips plant a kiss on the top of your head where he then rests his chin. “A temptation as enticing as this, shouldn’t be left alone and unattended.”

...

[drabbles-mc]

One Of Them Girls (Part 2)

Angel Reyes x F!Reader

A follow-up to This Request from @lakamaa12​

Warnings: language, slight steam towards the end, Angel being?? the sweetest human

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Back by popular demand! It took me a little bit to get into the groove of a part 2 for this one but I really like how it turned out. Angel is the sweetest and he deserves the best. Hope y’all enjoy!

Angel Reyes Taglist: @mayans-sauce​ @encounterthepast​ @helli4nthus​ @lilacyennefer​ @angelreyesgirl​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @starrynite7114​ @rosieposie0624​ @queenbeered​ @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ @sincerelyasomebody​ @mijop​ @sadeyesgf​ @xladymacbethx​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @blessedboo​ @appropriate-writers-name​ @holl2712​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @sillygoose6969​ @beardburnsupersoldiers​ @louisianalady​ @gemini0410​ @paintballkid711​ @chibsytelford​ @yourwonkywriter​ @sesamepancakes​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @georgiaaintnopeach​  @plentyoffandoms @twistnet​ @themoonandthewicked​ @garbinge​ @bucky-iss-bae​ @enjoy-the-destruction

You woke up late the next morning to the sound of your roommate clamoring around in the kitchen. You wanted to be annoyed but when you looked at the clock, your eyes went wide. It was almost noon—and you had to be at work in two hours. You let out a deep sigh as you got out of bed.

You got ready as quickly as you could, opting out of doing much of anything with your makeup and hair. It wasn’t like your manager was going to care anyway. You strode into the kitchen, immediately grabbing a travel mug from the cabinet for your coffee.

“You slept late,” Elena said with a hint of amusement in her tone, “Long night?”

You chuckled and shook your head as you dumped coffee into your mug, “Not like whatever it is that you’re thinking. He just gave me a ride home, that’s it.”

“Mhm,” she leaned back against the counter, unable to wipe the smile off of her face, “You left his hoodie hanging off the bathroom door.”

You sighed, looking up at the ceiling, “It was cold, and he let me borrow it.”

“You can say you like him, you know,” she laughed, “The ground isn’t gonna open underneath you if you say you think some guy is cute.”

You smiled but shook your head, “I gotta go—slept through my alarm,” you gathered up your purse and keys, “You got plans tonight?”

She shook her head, “Nope. You?”

“None at all,” you laughed, “I’m recovering from all the human interaction yesterday.”

“Thanks for coming. I know you didn’t really want to.”

You took a sip of your coffee, “Hate to say it, but it was actually pretty fun. So, thank you,” you chuckled, “But I’m not doing shit once I get home from work tonight. No extra human interaction for me.”

You said goodbye and took off out the door. You hadn’t even made it to work yet and you already couldn’t wait to be back home. There was one more semester between you and finishing college, and you couldn’t wait until you could actually get a full-time job that you enjoyed. You were lucky that you worked in a restaurant where your coworkers and your boss were all good people, but you couldn’t wait to be done with it.

When you came home, you were hit with a wave of heat and the scent of good food as soon as you walked through the door. Your body instantly relaxed as you kicked off your shoes and tossed your purse onto the couch. Elena watched and shook her head at you with a smile.

“Welcome home, honey,” she laughed as she grabbed plates out of the cupboard.

You laughed, “So glad I get to come home to you,” you walked into the kitchen and looked over everything that she was making, “Real talk though, thanks for taking care of dinner.”

“Think of it as my thank you for coming out with me last night.”

“Are you trying to reward me into socializing with people?”

She laughed, “Would it work?”

You looked back at the food, “…maybe.”

“Speaking of which,” she started piling food onto her plate, “Angel texted me today.”

“Everything alright?”

She waited for you to look at her again, “He asked about you.”

You already had a forkful of food in your mouth, “What about me?”

She laughed, “He was just letting me know that he had a really good time with you and wanted to see you again. I guess after the whole ass-beating comment he felt like he had to get my approval. Which…was smart of him,” she smiled.

You laughed, “Oh my god,” you shook your head, “Put the fear of god in the poor guy.”

Despite the fact that you were trying to play it off, you couldn’t deny that the fact that Angel had reached out to her about you felt good. It made you feel like he might’ve been taking the whole thing at least a little seriously. You didn’t know just how serious you were looking for things to be, but you knew you weren’t in the mood to be jerked around by anyone.

Elena must’ve seen each thought cross your face because she nudged you gently as you both walked over to the couch, “You good?”

You snapped out of it, nodding, “Yea, I’m good.”

“If you don’t wanna see him again, you don’t have to,” she took a bite of her food, “I mean I love the guys but I’d be the first to say that they aren’t for everyone.”

“No,” you shook your head, “It’s not that. It’s just, I dunno. I don’t even know what I’m up for, you know?”

She nodded, “I know. I think he might be good for you, honestly. He’s a good guy. A little impulsive sometimes,” she shook her head with a smile, “But he’s got a good heart.”

You knew that she wasn’t lying about that. You could feel that emanating from him when the two of you were sitting and talking the night before. You nodded and didn’t say anything more about it. She put a show on the television and your previous conversation fell by the wayside. It was hard not to think about it, though.

Once you were done with dinner, you hopped in the shower. You were in your room, getting ready to change into your pajamas for the night when your phone started to go off on your bed. Seeing Angel’s name flashing on the screen sent nervousness and excitement through you at the same time. You sat down on the bed still in your towel and took a deep breath before answering.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Everything alright?”

“Yea,” he chuckled, “just wanted to make sure you really gave me the right number.”

You laughed, “For a moment I thought about playing the John Cena theme song just to give you a good scare.”

Along with his laughter you could hear a lot of voices in the background, and you assumed that he was at the clubhouse, “Your sweetness overwhelms me.”

You couldn’t help but to laugh, “Believe it or not, that’s not the first time someone has said that to me,” you paused, biting at your lip as you waited for him to say why he was calling, “Not that I don’t want to hear from you, but was there a reason you called?”

The pause that followed was unsettling, but finally you heard him take a breath, “Yea. I, uh, I just wanted to know if you’d want to go out sometime,” he paused for a moment, “With me.”

You smiled, “With you? I mean, in that case,” you let slip a quiet laugh, “I might be able to budget some time in my schedule.”

“Really?”

“Not even I am mean enough to joke about that,” you chuckled.

He laughed, “Okay. Wow. Um, okay, yea. How…how does Thursday night sound?”

“Sounds good.”

You could hear him let out a sigh of relief, “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“It’s a date,” just saying the words made you feel giddy. You were curious about one thing, though, “What made you decide to call and ask?”

His laughter had a touch of nervousness to it and you found it hard to believe that he was a man that got nervous about much of anything, “I was gonna wait a couple days so you wouldn’t think that I was a creep. Or a clinger,” he laughed for a moment, “But I, um, I couldn’t get you outta my head.”

Your entire body felt warm, “You’re sweet.”

“Sometimes,” he laughed, “Also Coco said that if I didn’t say something he would call you up and say something for me. And neither of us want that.”

You shook your head and laughed, “Right.”

There was a beat of silence, “So I’ll see you Thursday?”

“I’ll see you Thursday.”

The relief was palpable in his voice, “Alright. Have a good night, querida.”

You were thankful that he couldn’t see the cheesy grin on your face, “You too, Angel.”

You hung up the call and tossed your phone to the side as you flopped backwards onto your bed, still wrapped in your towel. You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as you stared up at the ceiling. You covered your face with your hands, unable to remember the last time a phone call left you feeling so giddy.

As if on cue, Elena came sliding into your room, “Did I just hear you confirm a date with Angel?” her smile stretched from ear to ear, clearly thankful for the thin walls of your apartment.

You wanted to have a witty remark but you were too busy being excited. You laughed and nodded, “You did.”

“Yes!” she ran over and tackled you in a hug on the bed, “Oh this is so exciting!”

You laughed as you felt her practically vibrating with excitement for you, “What’d I just get myself into?”

“An adventure!”

You had lived through a lot of weeks that seemed to drag on, but nothing quite like the week leading up to your date with Angel. Focusing in your classes was doable, but it wasn’t easy when you could feel your phone vibrating inside your backpack with texts from Angel. It caught you by surprise that he was able to text you and keep a conversation going all day—the two of you didn’t seem to run out of things to talk about and it was refreshing.

Your work shift on Wednesday night felt like it lasted for a lot longer than six hours. You just wanted to get the day over with already so it would finally be Thursday. In all of your conversations during the week, Angel had never let slip what the plan was for your date the following night. It was a little maddening but you also couldn’t deny that you liked the slight mystery of it all. He had done you the courtesy of letting you know that you wouldn’t have to dress up for it.

“You sure you’re not just setting me up to be super underdressed?” you asked while you talked on the phone with him Thursday afternoon.

He laughed, “That’d be funny, but I promise I’m not doing that.”

“Hmm,” you held the phone loosely in your hand while you pulled random tops out of your closet, “I don’t know if I believe you.”

“No trust,” his smile was audible.

“Don’t take it so personally,” you chuckled.

“You worry too much, querida,” he laughed, “You’ll look great no matter what. I’ll see you in a few hours, alright?”

“Alright, I’ll see you in a bit.”

The two of you said a quick goodbye and you tossed your phone aside with a sigh. Being told to wear whatever for a date felt like a trap. You had a number of shirts laid out in front of you, taking over your bed. Part of you wanted to do the unthinkable and ask Elena for fashion advice, but you weren’t sure you were ready for everything that might entail, especially if it was supposed to be casual.

You mulled over your choices for a minute too long, though. She was walking by to go to the kitchen when she saw you standing in your leggings and bra, looking over your choices. She poked her head in and cleared her throat louder than necessary.

“Can I weigh in?”

“Would me saying no even matter?”

“Nope!” she laughed as she walked over and looked at the shirts on your bed, “Where you guys going?”

You shrugged helplessly, “No clue—he won’t tell me. He just said that I could wear whatever I want, whatever I’m comfortable in. Said it’s nothing fancy,” you paused, “Should I believe him?”

She nodded, “Yea, I don’t think he’d lie about that,” she tapped her chin, seemingly deep in thought, “The red top is cute, plus it’ll look nice with the leggings.”

“Yea?”

“Yea,” she picked it up and handed it to you, “He’s gonna think you’re hot regardless of what you wear. As he should,” she chuckled.

You had to laugh as you pulled the shirt on over your head, “Thank you.”

She left you to your own devices after her initial piece of advice. You knew that you were getting ready way ahead of schedule, and that realistically all you were going to do was sit and wait and let yourself get more jittery than necessary. But now that you had started getting ready it was hard to distract yourself and kill time until Angel came to get you.

You took longer than necessary with your hair and makeup solely to try and keep yourself busy for as long as possible. Every few minutes you looked over and checked the time on your phone, each time disappointed that more time hadn’t gone by. You drummed your fingernails on the surface of your dresser, trying to think of ways to fill the remaining time before Angel showed up to pick you up.

“You can come out here and help me with laundry if you’re that bored,” you heard Elena call from the living room with a laugh, “I can hear your fingernails from here.”

You laughed but caved and made your way out to her, finding a spot on the couch next to her in the mess of unfolded, clean clothes. She tossed you a shirt and you shook your head as you began to fold and stack with her, glad to have a menial task to fill the time and keep you from going too insane.

The two of you were wrapped up in a conversation, and you had completely lost track of the time, when you heard a knock at the door. Your eyes grew wide and you checked the time on your phone, cursing under your breath as you stood up. You asked Elena to go and answer the door while you went to find a pair of shoes to wear.

You could hear the two of them chatting and laughing as you grabbed a cute pair of sneakers that had gotten shoved underneath your bed at some point. You were pulling it over the heel of your foot, hopping down the hallway towards the living room where Angel stood waiting for you.

You felt your eyes go wide as you looked at him. He looked like a completely different man without his kutte on for some reason. He just had a plain black t-shirt on with his jeans and work boots, but for some reason you felt all of your words get caught in your throat.

“You look great,” he said with a smile, “You ready to go?”

You nodded, “Yea, yea I’m good.”

You walked over and were following him out the door when Elena caught you gently by the arm, “Relax. Have a good time. If you need to bail just text me and I’ll totally call with a fake emergency.”

You laughed, “I don’t think that’ll be necessary, but thank you.”

“Text me when you get there,” she gave you a quick hug goodbye.

“Will do. Love you.”

“Love you too,” she waved and shut the door after you.

You met Angel in the lobby of your apartment building. He looked over at you with a smile, “All good?”

You nodded, “All good. Elena was just making sure I still had my pepper spray.”

“I’ll never know peace with you two around, will I?”

You laughed, shaking your head, “Not at all.”

“You up for another ride on the bike? Or was the first ride too traumatizing for you?”

You rolled your eyes, “I’ll be fine.”

Handing over his helmet with a smile, Angel climbed onto his bike and waited for you to hop on behind him. You got situated, arms wrapping around him much more comfortably this time around. You rested your chin on top of his shoulder for a moment, a smile creeping across your face.

“So do I get to know what we’re doing, yet?”

“Nope,” he shook his head with a laugh, “Hang on tight, Y/N.”

The way your name rolled off his tongue left butterflies in your stomach, but you didn’t get too much time to think about it as he peeled away from the curb and took off down the street. Besides the roar of his motorcycle, your laughter was the only thing that either of you could hear as he tore down the street. You could feel his body shake slightly with laughter beneath your arms as he drove.

The streetlights blurred as the two of you raced by them. Even if the city was whipping by you at race-like speeds, you had to admit that there was something beautiful about all of it. Despite the fact that there was no pausing to look at anything for too long, flying past dimly-lit storefronts in your sleepy little town felt like an adventure all its own when you found yourself latched to Angel.

Your ride didn’t last nearly long enough. As excited as you were to get to the next part of your date, you could’ve spent the whole evening just doing that. He rolled into the driveway of a house, one that you had to assume was his. You couldn’t hide the fact that you were surprised as he parked the bike and hopped off, holding out his hands to help you do the same.

You hung the helmet off the handlebar as you looked back and forth between Angel and his house. He saw the slight look of confusion on your face and chuckled, “Everything alright?”

You laughed, trying to play it off, “Yea, just figured you’d take me to dinner before you tried to take me home.”

He shook his head as he gently rested his hand on the small of your back and guided you up the driveway, “It’s a one-stop shop, baby,” he couldn’t contain his laughter at the way you rolled your eyes at him, “Nah but I know you said you really don’t like going out and doing shit around people. Figured this might be more your speed?”

Your face got hot for a moment and you nodded, “Thank you.”

“It ain’t much,” Angel said as he unlocked the door, “But the kitchen works which is the most important thing.”

You chuckled and nodded in agreement as you followed him into his house. Once you slipped out of your shoes you looked around, trying to get a feel for what you were walking into. You had the feeling that he put a little extra effort into straightening up the place given the current circumstances. Even so, his house still felt very much like a home. It wasn’t overly cluttered, but there were a good number of photos on the walls, along with more than a couple bookshelves that were filled to the brim in the living room, taking up wall space on either side of his television.

“I prepped most of it,” Angel said as he walked over to the kitchen, “Just gotta put it together. Shouldn’t take too long. You can snoop around while you wait if you want,” there was a knowing smirk on his face.

You laughed, “There’ll be plenty of time for snooping. I’m much more interested to see what you can do in the kitchen.”

“You think I can’t cook?”

“It’s not one of the first skills I would’ve assumed you had, no.”

“No fuckin’ trust,” he laughed.

You found yourself leaning against the counter, watching him as he started pulling everything together for dinner. You had to admit that you were impressed by his culinary skills. For a man who didn’t come off as someone who spent a whole lot of time in the kitchen, he seemed to have a pretty good idea of what he was doing. Or if he didn’t, he was good at faking it.

“You should keep your fingers curled a little more,” you commented as you watched him start to slice the items laid out on the cutting board.

“What?” he looked over at you.

“Yea, like this, lemme show you,” you took the knife from him and showed him the proper way to keep your fingers bent, “That way you won’t accidentally cut the tips of your fingers off. Keeping them intact will probably make it easier to ride, yea?”

He chuckled as he took the knife back from you, “Maybe.”

That was the last time you interjected into his process unless he asked you to grab something out of the fridge or one of the cabinets for him. It was peaceful, comfortable, moving around the kitchen with him.

“You want to pick a movie to watch with dinner?” he asked as he was finishing things up on the stove.

“Sure! You’re not gonna cut off any fingers while I’m gone, are you?”

“I think I’ll be alright. I made it this many years and I still got all ten.”

You laughed as you walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch. You scrolled through what Netflix was recommending for him, trying to get a good gauge on what you should be choosing. This definitely felt like it was a little bit of a test.

“Sorry if there’s weird shit popping up on there,” he chuckled, “Coco uses mine and his interests are…unique.”

You laughed, “So that’s your story?”

“And I’m sticking to it,” he smiled at you as he brought over two plates, setting them down on the coffee table before disappearing back into the kitchen to grab drinks for the two of you.

Dinner was much better than you initially thought it was going to be. He was certainly a man that was full of surprises. You had to admit that you were surprised at how comfortable you felt around him, especially in his own house. He was making a conscious effort to try and be as open and inviting as possible, and it was working.

Once you were both done eating, you found yourself nestled up against his side, his arm draped around your shoulders. His thumb traced lightly back and forth as his eyes stayed focused on the movie. You tried to stay focused, but it was difficult. You reached and draped your arm across his stomach while you laid against him and you felt him chuckle.

“Comfortable?”

You looked up at him with a smile, “Yea. You?”

He gave you a light squeeze, “Yea.”

The two of you fell silent for a few minutes before Angel started his own commentary about what was going on in the movie. You had to laugh, shaking your head as he successfully ruined every serious moment. It was obvious that both of you had seen the film before, because you were both cracking jokes about it.

When the credits started to roll, Angel looked down at you with a smile, “Thanks for doing this with me.”

You sat upright, “Of course. No need to thank me—I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

“Hopefully it lived up to your expectations?”

You nodded, “Surpassed them for sure. Like I said, I didn’t think you could cook,” you laughed.

He chuckled and shook his head as he stood up, collecting your plates, “Y’know sometimes you can just be nice.”

You watched him, trying to ignore the butterflies taking over your stomach, “But where’s the fun in that?”

He walked back over, standing by the couch with a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. You could see that there were a lot of thoughts running around his brain. “We can totally watch part 2, which was basically made to be made fun of, unless you wanna get going—”

“No,” you cut him off, biting your lip lightly at how eager you knew you sounded, “I’m in no rush, really. I’ll totally stay and talk shit for a few more hours.”

He smiled as he sat back down next to you, motioning for you to come and curl back up against his side again, “Sounds good to me.”

Your hand was resting against his chest as you laughed at a stupid joke he’d just made. You felt his hand come to rest over yours, completely enveloping it for a moment. It sent a wave of warmth throughout your entire body. You almost didn’t realize what was happening as he lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. Your entire face started to get hot as you looked up at him. There was a smirk on his face and you knew that he knew exactly what he was doing to you, even if you didn’t want to give him that kind of satisfaction.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

You smiled, finding yourself biting back a laugh as you nodded, “Yea, I think I’ll allow that.”

He laughed, “I did cook you dinner like you asked, right?”

You rolled your eyes, smile still taking over your features, “Don’t make me change my mind.”

“Right, right,” he gently cupped your face in his hand and pulled your lips to his.

Almost instantly you felt yourself melting into him. Your hand still rested on his chest and you could feel how quickly his heart was beating. You smiled into the kiss as you felt his thumb glide gently across your cheek while his lips moved against yours.

Without giving it much of a second thought, you shifted yourself so that you were in his lap, straddling him. His arms fell naturally around your waist, keeping you pulled tight against his chest. Your hands rested on either side of his neck, fingertips tracing along his jawline as he continued to deepen your kiss, biting lightly at your bottom lip.

You pulled away to catch your breath, your lips mere centimeters away from his. Your entire body felt like it was on fire and you couldn’t remember the last time someone had made you feel that way from just a kiss.

He let out a breathy laugh as his hand ran up and down your back, “You’re somethin’ else, Y/N.”

“You don’t even know the half of it,” you laughed as you leaned back, trailing your fingers lightly through his beard.

He lifted and easily shifted you so that you were draped across his lap, curled up into his chest. One hand rested on your side while the other landed on your knee. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I’m more than willing to find out if you’ll let me.”

You smiled up at him, “I just might.”

[lesmismignon]

replying to anon messages

In this post I shall reply to the messages that have been sitting in my inbox for a regrettably long period of time. (It is loooooong. Please click “keep reading” at your own risk.)

I’m not a very good correspondent. I’m very sorry. I never know what to say right off the bat, and then during 2019 and 2020 when I was mostly on hiatus, I would just post a chapter or two and poof back out, and on Tumblr I would browse a few things and then poof back out. I do not have a good track record with social media and online presence in general. And with real life problems (mostly due to work), at worst it was impossible to muster even the strength to write. It was maddening.

But there is something about Hellsing and its fandom that reels me back in even when I am far away. Excuse me if this sounds cheesy, but for me fandoms are like the orbit of a comet. If it is something that you loved, and will continue to love even when you are not “active” on it, you will come back to it, someday, somehow. I’ll always be grateful to Hellsing, for being an inspiration to write, for being a bridge to some of my dearest relationships, for some of the kindest messages I’ve ever received in my life.

you freed yourself for a job that was not good for you and related to toxic people (Integra-like – demanding the respect you deserve). That is badass brave – and that doesn’t become less by that fact that maybe the next job you got is not the end of the journey but still part of the way. And you are brave by sharing your work, sharing your stories revealing parts of your emotional world to the outside – that is totally bad as too. I think you can be very proud of you, really. So maybe right now, you might be in situation that does not yet make you happy in way you deserve it. But you know- there is big chance that this is part of your journey to this place – imagine, in some time from now, you may be a successful (brilliant you are already) author and in an interview you say something like “yes, back there in 2016/17 I went through some tough times, that influenced the work very much I got this price for today”. So just in case you maybe cannot see it right now yourself – please allow me to tell you – you are brave and wonderful. And re. the brave decision you mentioned – I know I am not in the position to tell you anything – but please do not do any harm to you. So, thank you so much for your work you share with the world, my life is better with it. Take care for yourself, you deserve the best. (so sorry, I am really not good with words, hope you get my point….)

Anon, this was the kindest thing you could have ever done for little 2016/17 me. Oh God. Time does fly by so fast. I want you to know that I read this message a long time ago, and it gave me strength to go on, even though I’m not sure if I am so brave, to be compared to our lady Integra >< I hope you are happy and safe, wherever you are. I hope you know how brave and wonderful *you* are. Thank you so much.

just wanted to drop by and say I love all your fanfictions! You capture Integra and Alucard's characters so well; I LOVE it. Take all the time you need updating. You deserve it. And good luck at your job! <3

Ah, I probably changed jobs like twice since then. But they have been all good and meaningful in their own ways. I really did not mean to take THIS long in updating but I hope that you enjoyed the recent updates if you are still reading, thank you so much!

Why can I not write here? I just wanted you to know I am grateful for the reading joys that are 'Snow White' and 'Satis'...

Thank you Anon! I am so glad you enjoyed them!

I LOVE SATIS SO MUCH YOUR WRITING IS SO BEAUTIFUL AND FLOWY AND IT MAKES ME CRY PLEASE KEEP UP THE BRILLIANT WORK!!

Thank you Anon! You give me too much praise, but I shall indeed try to keep it up!

Hey so please don't take this as me pressuring you but I absolutely adore Satis! Is there any chance we might know when the next update is coming in? Totally understand if not- it sounds like work is taking a lot out of you and I understand that you're writing fan fiction purely for fun but DAMN IF I DON'T WANT TO READ MORE OF YOUR FIC OMG I LOVE IT SO MUCH ASDFGHJKL!!!

I’m sorry it’s been ages! I’ll tell you my schedule(???) for this year instead! For this year of 2021 I really hope to average maybe at least 1 chapter a month but I don’t know how I’ll fare during the busy months. I hope you enjoyed the recent chapters if you are still reading!

@fierce-little-miana Can you believe that I have just noticed that I had given you any kudos for Snow White or Satis?! Sorry! Your stories are really worth all the praise we can give them. (so I corrected it) Have a nice day!

Thank you! I’m terribly sorry for this late reply. You’ve been so kind and sent so many lovely messages. Thank you again for each and every one of them!

@sinish-tem Hey sorryy for bothering you but. That ALutegra fic was AMAZING!!I LOVE IT!Amazing job sport<3

You’re not bothering me at all! Thank you old sport!

So I don't mean to rush you or be annoying or anything, but is Satis still happening? (plz plz say yes)

You’re not being annoying! I’m sorry it took so long! Yes :)

Hello! So, um, I have to ask... is Satis going to be updated? It’s just that it’s one of my absolute favorite stories by my absolute favorite author!

Thank you! I’m honored! I hope you enjoyed the recent chapters if you’re still reading!

Hi! Are you still around? Are you doing ok?

Yes, I am fine now, thank you :) I hope you are doing well, too!

@aniphine Hi! First off, I want to say that I absolutely love your writing style and am so looking forward to diving into all of your fics! I just finished Satis and it’s definitely in my Top 10 Fanfics ever, which is saying something! Thanks so much for writing it. On that note, I wanted to ask if you had plans to update it? If not, that’s totally cool - what you’ve written already is fantastic. But if so, I’d pledge my life to you in order to get a chance at reading more. 😆 Anyhoo, you’re awesome! 👋

Thank you so much! You are awesome too! I’m honored that Satis is in your top 10!!

@dontfuckingfollowmeifpornblog You still around?

I am now! Thank you!

@comixqueen Hello have I told you that I really love your Hellsing fics? ;u;/ They're among the best out there and I reread them often!

Thank you very much. That means a lot to me from you. Thank you for rereading, I’m always wary of my earlier writing but I’m glad if people still enjoy them.

I have never squealed higher than when I received the notification for the new chapter of Satis. You are a true blessing <3 thank you for your words

You are a blessing! Thank you so much!

Hello! I know you're not very active around here, but I just saw a trailer for a movie based on the letters of Vita and Virginia, and I was immediately reminded of Satis and the quotes you so expertly used in the narration, and I thought I might tell you in case you're interested in the movie (the title is literally Vita and Virginia) <3

Thank you Anon! I did see the trailer! I haven’t seen the movie yet though, but I will, eventually! I am so glad you think I did the quotes justice! It’s such a beautiful quote.

Not sure how to start this, might be a little bold, and yet; let me simply say that I am in love with your written works. In fact, so much so that I read it all again, and again. It never ceases to amaze. And as for you, the person behind it all, you do seem immensely precious as well. I hope that you have the most fantastic day, you deserve no less.

Anon, you are so very kind. Thank you so much for your lovely words. I am just an ordinary person unusually invested in a particular set of fictional characters xD and I am often late to things and a bad correspondent, but I must be doing something right if you’re sending me a message as lovely as this. Thank you again, I hope you are having fantastic days as well.

Honestly ive read your snow white fic years ago but I loved it insanely much and im about to read it again today ^.^

Thank you Anon! Ah, Snow White. I am very glad you still enjoy it. It is so old, and I wish I had the courage to edit it and spruce it up, or even update an extra or two...

Are you ever planning to continue Satis? I’m in love with that piece of work.

Thank you Anon! Yes! I hope you enjoyed the recent chapters!

My literal text to a friend of mine that's also a fan of Satis when I got the AO3 mail about the new chapter was: "NOW THEY'RE FINALLY STARTING TO BE *HAPPY* HOLIDAYS"

I am very glad I was able to bring you holiday cheer. Would it be bold of me if I say I aim to bring you non-holiday cheer as well, now? xD Thank you so much!

HEY JUST CAME HERE TO SAY I LOVE SATIS, OKAY BYYYYE

HELLO ANON! THANK YOUUUUU

[floosies]

Beechwood Park

pairing: 60′s au (Richard Madden x oc!poc!fem!Reader)

summary: In the late 60′s Cynthia was struggling model who’d just about reached her wits end and succumb to her parents wishes for her to continue her studies. Mr. Madden would say otherwise though.

warnings: age gap, smut, cursing, 18 + material

Series Masterlist

3. Smoke Dreams

Her mind couldn’t stop thinking about their private moment in the hallway. About his hands and how quickly he had her feeling like jelly. She’d only kissed a boy once at a birthday party when she was ten. Kissing him wasn’t like that, it was different in such a good way. She wasn’t innocent she knew what sex was and even though she was still pure, there were many men who she knew were waiting for a chance at her. 

One thing that was for certain though was he called again. They talked about it in whispers whilst Stella was still in the flat. She’d confessed that she had gotten the callback and had a photoshoot in the weekend. Mr. Egerton had agreed to be her agent and he’d send a car for her at 9 am sharp. Mr. Madden was happy to hear that she was doing well, but he had other plans.

Richard wanted to spend more time with her. His plan was to have a getaway with her in the upcoming week. He’d planned everything, he even went through Taron to make sure she was available. It did catch Cynthia off guard how well informed he was about her schedule. Stella wasn’t surprised at all, “I think he wants to be your daddy at this point.” She said playfully as they ate dinner  “oh please. I am far too young to be married, besides he’s practically an old man. Why would he want me?” 

Stella loved Cynthia like a sister, she really did, but god could Cynthia be so daft sometimes. They were watching some shite show on the telly when Stella brought it up again, “he looks at you like a dog looks at a bone. He wants you, and honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up having you.” Cynthia didn’t want to admit the truth, but she had a feeling that her best friend was right, “I am not his type. I can’t be, look at me.” Goodness, “this is England love. That thing  doesn’t matter here. Let him have a chance at ya, you’ll regret it if you don’t.” 

With that, the weekend came. Sure enough the girls were ready for a small holiday in Brighton. Mr. Egerton of course had his photo shoot first, it went swimmingly. The photographer loved Cynthia, and Mr. Madden was there, well everyone was there. 

Richard could see her star power from the moment she began posing for the camera. It made him want her more. An intelligent woman with looks that could make him fall weak to his knees, he couldn’t wait to have her alone. A celebration dinner was in order for the first night out of the little holiday. Taron being a good wingman brought along an old uni friend, Dominic Cooper, his tastes and profession similar to Stella’s.

One would think that these pairs were couples from just seeing them together. Richard and Cynthia in their mod fashioned clothing, opposing Stella and Dominic in their monochromatic black outfits inspired by poetry obsessive intellectuals. Taron was the odd one out, but he still was in many of the conversations going on in the dinner table.

A conversation on relationships came about during dessert and it was very interesting to say the least. Stella made it a point to bring up the use of the word daddy as a nickname for a woman’s husband, “does a woman really want to reminded of her father?” Everyone laughed, but Cynthia quickly added, “I agree no one wants to think of their father, however I think it’s endearing really. Daddy seems like a title deserved if he really acts like what a daddy is supposed to be.” This intrigued everyone at the table, Taron raised a curious eyebrow. It was Dominic though who asked the question, “so how does a daddy behave Ms. Ridge?”

Cynthia could feel the heat on her face rising, she was in the hot seat now. She took a good drink of her champagne before answer, “he should be like Prince Phillip, modest and handsome.” Dominic rolled his eyes, “a monarchist. I knew it!” Stella laughed, “it’s only fitting for a woman of her intelligence and poise. Cynthia my dear you are extraordinary as always.” It seems everyone was content with her answer. It calmed her beating heart down a bit, she finally looked over at Mr. Madden who gave her a wink before finishing his last bit of champagne. 

Dinner ended nicely, Mr. Egerton reminded Cynthia she had some reshoots the next morning and then his car arrived taking him back to his beach front home. Stella and Dominic had hit it off, this led to Dominic convincing Stella to go with to a some poetry club near the hotel they were staying. This left Cynthia with Mr. Madden, she knew it would end well enough.

They were staying in the same hotel, “finally a moment alone.” She shyly grinned, “yes finally.” Into a lift they went, “so am I like Prince Phillip then?” Cynthia was caught a bit off guard, “oh. I umm..well...I suppose-” “darling I was only teasing. Besides would you ever see this old man as your daddy.” Her answer was a surprise to both of them, “I wouldn’t mind, if you’d want me.” They’d arrived on his floor and before she could react he was practically puling her into his room.

When the door closed a series of deep kisses began. Clothing was flying everywhere, but she had to stop it quickly, “Richard I’ve never-” he cut her off. “It’s okay. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.” The lust was there though, “I want you to do everything just be gentle.” That was all that needed to be said. His lips began to trail sloppy kisses over her body until he’d reached her core. 

She’d never done anything like this, she felt something warm and wet. Then she felt a wave of pleasure as she realized it was his mouth. Looking down she saw his eyes staring at her. Her hands tangled into his hair as she slowly rode his face, it was so good, too good that she couldn’t control herself from climaxing. He went back up leaving more bruising kisses over her body. Cynthia didn’t know much about sex, but she was willing to try. Before he could do anything else, she turned them over and began descending to his groin. 

Her hands tugged on his member, she saw his head fall back with his lips parted open. She wanted to go further, but she wasn’t quite sure how to, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to love,” Richard’s voice coaxed raggedly. She still continued the soft pulls and tugs, “I just don’t know how is all.” 

Richard was somehow more turned on by her innocence, “it’s just like an ice lolli,” she went straight in. He fell back onto the bed, just the sight of her like this was enough for him. If she kept at it he wouldn’t last much longer. Gently he pulled her away, “I want tonight to be about you darling.” She laid under him again, his right hand trailed to her core again, gently teasing her bud whilst the other hand toyed with her breasts. He watched as her chest rose and fell heavily. He could feel the slick building up in his fingers. 

Pulling away he heard her small whines for more, he quickly went for the condom in trousers. Cynthia’s heart was racing, she couldn’t deny she wanted him but when she saw the size of him she wondered if it would even possible. He had just put on the thing, “it’ll only hurt at the start.” His fingers went to work again on her bud as he entered her. The pain was starting to be greater than the pleasure. 

He whispered sweet things in her ear and kissing the nape of her neck as he fully entered her. She was trying her hardest not cry, instead focusing on kissing him and his voice. After a minute or two, the intensity of the pain died and dulled, her hips began to rock against his member. Soon as he felt her wanting for more he began to slowly bottom out and move into her again. It didn’t take long for her to begin enjoying the feeling.

She had her arms draped under his shoulders, his head was nuzzled into her neck as he tried he mask his groans into her skin. Trying to hold back her moans was something that was getting difficult as the pleasure continued to build. Then she just couldn’t hold back, “p-pl-please harder.” He smirked, “I’ll do whatever you want me to darling, just say that I’ll be your daddy for life.” She moaned out a chant of yeses. 

Her legs were beginning to tremble as he thrusted and then he hit her sweet spot, and he knew it was it from the way she gasped out and arched her back. Her skin was glistening with sweat, she looked like an angel, the way she was tightening up around him, he knew she was close. He pulled her into almost a sitting position, “you’re close aren’t you darling?” His voice was shaky, and she was in bliss at this point, “oh daddy.” This only made him speed up his pace, “that’s right be a good girl for daddy. Daddy’s got you love, let go darling.” His fingers worked on her bud as he thrusted into her sweet spot. A strangled moan left her lips as she rode at her high.

They laid sprawled out, he was giving her a chance to catch her breath before running her a bath. Her eyes trailed to him, he was covered in her lipstick it made her giggle, he raised an eyebrow “what is it?” She smiled, “my lipstick is all over you.” He looked down seeing kiss marks and stains everywhere, he simply shrugged, “your lipstick looks good on me.” She moved in closer to him, “did you enjoy your first time?” She looked up at his blue eyes, nodding. He smiled, “do you really mean you want to be with me?” She was going to be the death of him, “of course I do. Now let’s run you a bath and then go to bed,” but if she would kill him, he would die with a smile.

[oleander-teacup]

Storytime

I've been made aware mostly by Gaud that people go absolutely batshit crazy for a good childhood mishap story. As it just so happens, I am chock full of them because I was, to say in the very least, an idiotic child.

I have not changed much, but I can in fact confirm that the years have brought me countless terrible stories to tell that I do hope will humor the general population.

I am supposed to be working on studying for my finals. Instead, I have decided to humor you, random internet strangers.

Without further ado, it is my pleasure to present the childhood story of...

The Homemade Ant Farm

Now, I know what you're thinking.

Cyrus. Homemade ant farm? Really? Is this the best you've got?

The title TRULY belies the magnitude, the magnificence, the overwhelming horror of the mistakes made during this terrible fiasco, but I digress.

As a first-grader, I wasn't very bright.

Quite the opposite, actually. Despite the fact I'd already been dubbed an honors kid, I had absolutely no sense of self-preservation and even less of a notion of common sense. I was a 5-year-old with a love of bugs, a terrible curse in bright and sunny Florida where everything is poisonous, mean as the devil, or just plain boring to catch.

Summer camp was a fantastic time. Children ran around outside and brought in the most magnificent bugs they could catch with their own two hands (mostly grasshoppers) and brought them inside, subsequently getting bugs EVERYWHERE.

The camp directors were getting fed up with the number of bugs making their way into the cafeteria, and so they came up with a clever plan. They gave us water bottles and told us to make our own "bug habitats".

I had a best friend, let's call him Harvey. Harvey and I did everything together. Harvey and I played on the monkey bars, in the sandbox, we played as a team in games that were traditionally made for 1V1, we were absolutely inseparable (except for during reading competitions. I beat him every time. Bitch couldn't finish a Junie B. Jones book in 30 minutes like I could.).

Harvey and I got to talking about making our own bug habitat. All the other kids were doing it!

One problem.

We wanted something different.

We wanted something unique.

We didn't want grasshoppers or beetles, no, no, we didn't want any of those.

It was with this mentality that Harvey and I made the fantastic decision to put ants in a water bottle.

We found an ant mound on the side of the four-square court absolutely SWARMING with ants and did what any discovery maddened 5-year-olds would do: we shoved our hands in it and began scooping handfuls of ant-filled sand into our very own ant habitat.

One other thing you might know about Florida: we have fire ants. Lots of them.

By some small miracle, Harvey and I escaped with few ant bites, slapping them off ourselves in the name of exploration and a unique bug habitat.

After dropping a few leaves into the bottle and screwing the cap on, Harvey and I were satisfied. Our bug habitat was AMAZING! Nobody else had one like it, we were sure we were going to be commended for our fantastic work as the marvelous explorers we were.

We walked into the activity room and poked breathing holes in our bottle so the ants could breathe and put it down on a table.

Giggling like the mischievous little hellions we were, the counselors immediately knew we had done something. They were presently unaware of the magnitude of that something, but they knew we had done something.

"Are you guys making a bug habitat?"

"Uh-huh!"

"What are you going to put in it?"

The ants were unnoticed.

The horror. The HELL we were about to unleash on this room. Went unnoticed.

"We have ants in it!"

The counselor IMMEDIATELY began yelling. We had to take our ant habitat outside! We had to dump it out!

Harvey and I were positively INCENSED.

When neither of us would remove it from the table, this poor counselor picked up the bottle and began to take it outside.

One last lovely fact I neglected to mention.

The lid was loose.

And there were a lot of angry fire ants in that bottle.

Once the lid was off, all hell broke loose. The bottle was dropped and the sand and fire ants spilled across the floor. I don't know who sprayed our ants to death, but I know they were sprayed to death promptly.

Harvey and I were sent outside.

Oh, and forbidden from making any more bug habitats.

Everybody else had to get rid of theirs too.

Apparently, it was just easier to deal with grasshoppers in the activity room than it was to deal with homemade 5-year-old crafted ant farms.

This isn't the first thing I've ruined for a large group of people, either. Tune in next time to hear how I singlehandedly (well, not singlehandedly, there was a friend involved) caused our entire camp to have a buddy system put in place that hasn't budged for 4 years.

[bionicragdoll]

Can I get a one shot where raph is sick with the stomach flu and splinter and/or his brothers help take care of him? It can be shirt or long, I don't really care. (Lol you can just ignore this if you want.)

A/N – Not ignoring it, I just got in a really deep rut this year and am still trying to climb out. Thank you so much for the request, the close family dynamic is part of what makes TMNT so great. This takes place in the 2k3 verse.

Raph doesn’t get sick. He’s too strong and far too stubborn for any virus to even dare make the attempt. Of course, Donnie would counter that with the multiple times Raph was sick in their childhood before they had luxuries such as electricity and plumbing but since they had gotten older it was true that Raph getting sick was a rare occurrence. So, when he woke up with feeling a bit warm and achy he brushed it away, figuring it would go away eventually. To his annoyance the symptoms only worsened. He felt fatigued, muscles were weak and sluggish, which reminded him too much of the times he had been tranquilized and woke up on a dissection table and sent a shiver through his body that was not related to the fever he was trying to ignore.

During training his body seemed to ignore the commands that had been drilled into him since he could walk. After only a few minutes of sparring Splinter called a halt to the match and ordered Raphael to rest. The order was met with weak, grumbling protests, which were silenced with a sharp Dad look. “You are clearly unwell my son. Go rest, pushing yourself in this state will only cause your body further harm.” Raph found that he didn’t have the strength to push the matter further and dragged himself back to his room.

He took one look at the hammock that hung in the corner and blanched. The thought of climbing up and balancing on his normally comfortable nest made his stomach churn in a way that had him looking for the nearest trashcan. Plan B then, he thought dully and shuffled back in the direction of the couch, blindly grabbing the first pillow and blanket that his hands found before stumbling back out to the living room and flopping down on the much abused couch, clumsily tucking himself in before giving into sleep. 

For the next few hours he drifted in and out of consciousness, aware of his surroundings but without the motivation to react to anything that went on around him. Although his body eagerly succumbed to the comfort of dozing on the couch with the Price is Right and Family Feud playing in the background, something that brought back memories of his childhood when getting sick was an all too common occurrence for them, his mind raged at his helplessness. He was too vulnerable, too exposed, in this state. The lack of control over his own body was maddening. If one of their enemies were to attack the Lair now he would not be able to defend himself, let alone his family. 

He tossed, turned, and mumbled incoherently causing the blankets to tangle themselves around him. The constriction only made him feel worse and he felt his heart rate increase as he began to panic. Logically he knew he was in no danger, he was home, surrounded by his brothers and a security system that rivaled the White House. Logic however, was not in control currently and, unable to control his actions he started to thrash in an attempt to free himself and reach for his weapons.

When Master Splinter checked on him after training it didn’t take long for him to realize what has happening. As much as Raphael tried to maintain an aloof attitude towards the traumas that they had faced over the years and the fears that Splinter himself had planted in his son’s mind about humans and experimentation. He removed the blanket from his son with one swift motion and then placed a cool wash cloth on Raphael’s forehead. “It is alright my son. I am here for you. You are strong and this fever will pass.” With one furry hand he beckoned Michelangelo over to him. “Make a pot of tea for your brother and bring a glass of ice water and some ibuprofen to reduce his fever. If that stays down we will try to get some soup in him.” 

At the mere mention of food the sick turtle began to heave. In an instant Master Splinter had him sitting up. One hand was running up and down the back of Raphael’s shell while the other held a trash can, concern etched deep into his face. It was only the flu, he knew that, but his sons were all he had. It made his heart ache to see his son suffering and to be unable to help. Once Raphael had finished emptying the contents of his stomach into the bin Splinter handed it to Leonardo to dispose of.

“Sorry Master Splinter.” Raphael said in voice that was more hoarse that normal. He rinsed his mouth out with the water that Michelangelo had brought before Master Splinter eased him back down.

“There is no need to apologize my son.” He assured him, “As your father it is my job to take care of you, and ss long as there is breath in my body I will always be here for you Raphael. I love you my son.”

Splinter wasn’t sure if it was his words or merely the sound of his voice that calmed his volatile son but the longer that he spoke the more Raphael calmed down, so he kept talking. He recounted tales of his son’s childhood in voice that was filled with both humor and wistfulness. Mixed in with these tales were words of encouragement and affirmation. Words he knew his son craved even if he would never say so aloud. Eventually Raphael drifted off into a deep sleep. Still Splinter could not bring himself to leave his son’s side. Now that his children were grown they did not need him as often as they used to and a part of him longed for those days when they looked to him to soothe their pains and worries away. As his most willful child Raphael had been the first to declare that he was too grown up and independent to be running to Dad for with every headache and bruised knee. So as much as it pained him to see his son in such a state Splinter cherished this rare chance to shower Raphael in fatherly affection and to take care of him.

When Raph’s fever finally broke and he began to recover he wrapped Master Splinter in a tight embrace, allowing himself a moment of weakness, burying his head into his dad’s shoulder. “I love you too Master Splinter. Thank you for taking care of me.”

[rocketmanmadden]

Honeymoon

Requested by @frencchfries

can you write something related to Rich going on honeymoon with the reader some place in Italy, and there's lots of fluff while they are on the beach?

A/N- some things in this could be not correct and I’m sorry, I’ve never been to Italy or know much about it so I kinda just assumed things so if Italy isn’t at all like this I apologize!

ALSO- does anyone have any tips on how to create better titles? I know I’m always saying it but mine are absolutely terrible, I can write a whole fic and can’t even think of a one word title, so if anyone has any tips send them in my ask box please!

You and your new husband Richard have spent the last few days in the most beautiful place, Italy. You both knew you wanted to go there for your honeymoon way before you even were engaged or had a wedding planned. It was just the most perfect place in both of your minds.

Each day you had something planned out, you’ve went to museums, shops, tried every kind of Italian food known to earth, and today was the beach day. You had hopes of going to the beach everyday and watching the sunset, but by the time you would get back to your hotel from exploring you were both totally exhausted. Not today though, the only thing you have in mind is playing in the ocean, relaxing in the sand, and spending time with your love, Richard.

“Wake up love bug” you hear Richard quietly say sitting on the edge of the bed, running his hand over your hair. You pull him on top of you, fully in bed now and hold him in a warm hug. “What time is it baby?” You mumble into his chest, inhaling his nice scent.

“9:30, I already ordered breakfast and room service will have it up here soon.” He places a kiss on your forehead.

“Babe” you groan. “I’m supposed to be being a perfect wife, I should be getting up earlier and ordering breakfast, you’re already being the better one. Can you ever just stop being amazing for one second? You smile at him and he cups your cheek, reassuring you. “Love, you are the perfect wife and you always will be. You were sleepy and I didn’t want to wake you, with my acting schedule I know you’ll be the one always cooking dinner for me so I wanted to do something nice for you” which makes you kiss him on his lips

“I love you so much Richard Madden” You smile before he responds back with his adorable Scottish accent. “I love you more Y/N Madden” causing you to giggle. “Wow, do I love the sound of that. Y/N Madden” you repeat and smile at him

Time goes by of you guys cuddling in bed before room service delivers your breakfast. You guys sit, eat, and talk like you normally do during any meal before cleaning up and putting your swimsuits on, getting ready to go to the beach.

You exit your hotel, your hand gripped tight to Richards with your fingers intertwined with his, his free hand holding your bag and towels for you like the gentleman he is. Your hotel was on the beach which was just a small walking distance away, making for a nice stroll to the beach.

“It’s so beautiful” you turn around and look at Richard with lit up eyes, now only being some feet away from the ocean while he is sitting your bags down, quickly catching up to you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders from behind. “Isn’t it just lovely dear?” He kisses your cheek, you quickly reply with “yes, yes, yes. It’s the prettiest ocean I’ve ever seen” letting the hot sand run through your toes

“And it will be even prettier once you’re in it” he quickly unwraps his arms from you. “Last one in the ocean has to buy dinner tonight” he calls out and starts running.

“Hey!” You run after him into the ocean, jumping in his arms once you get there. “That is so unfair! You’re legs are longer and you actually work out, you knew you’d be faster” you complain as he holds you in his arms

“I’m sorry” he sarcastically frowns at you. “I’ll make up for it later, promise” he places a big kiss on your forehead and puts you down back in the water.

You spend the next hour in the ocean swimming around, splashing, and just having fun until you both start feeling hungry, going to a nearby shop in on the beach and getting a gelato, eating it as you begin walking back through the sand to the beach again.

“You know, for as sugary as this treat is it will never be as sweet as you” you hold onto his hand and smile at him, to which he laughs. “You’re so cheesy” he scrunches his nose up with a smile

“Cheesy?” You jokingly pout. “I was trying to be cute”

“I never said you weren’t cute. You’re always cute, I’m cheesy too. Here I’ll be cheesy again” he stops speaking for a second to think before opening his mouth again. “Y/N you are more beautiful and vibrant than the sunset we’re going to see tonight”

You giggle at his words, realizing it does sound cheesy, but so adorable. “That cannot be confirmed until we see the sunset, but what I know for sure is that you’re hotter than the sun currently beating down on us”

“Has this turned into a competition of who can be more cheesy? Because it really seems like it.” You shrug your shoulders, “maybe it has” to which he shakes his head. “You may have won for now, but I will think of something better eventually. I’ll win, just wait and see”

You cock an eyebrow up “sore loser ay?” To which he puts a hand on his chest and makes a sarcastic offended face. “I can’t believe you’d ever even think that me, I am not a sore loser, I just know that I was meant to win this”

“Mhm sure Madden, whatever you say” you giggle

You both go back to where you set up your towels, sitting down and finishing your gelatos. You were in the ocean and walking around for a while so you guys decide to just lay out on your towels for a bit and relax.

About 30 minutes goes by of you and Richard talking every so often, but mostly just laying face down on your towels soaking up the sun before he taps your shoulder to get your attention. “I’ll be right back love, just going to run to the bathroom real quick” you nod as he kisses your cheek and stands up to walk away.

“It takes you 15 minutes to go to the bathroom?” You ask giggling and sitting up on your towel. “Well no, not exactly I explored for a bit and I found something. He sits down next to you and shows you a bunch of seashells in his hand and picks out one particular shell.

“As soon as I saw it I thought it was perfect for you” he smiles looking at you admiring the shell. “I love it honey, but if you don’t mind me asking, why exactly this one? What’s so special about it? You grin taking the fragile shell into your hands.

“I felt it was the prettiest one here, just like you are” he places a kiss to your temple before you hug onto him. “Awe baby, you’re so sweet!” He pulls away and looks at you, “I try my hardest to be, but you know what else I am?”

You give him a confused look, “I don’t believe I do know, what else are you?

“A winner! Because that was way better than any of the cheesy sayings you said!” You mock him, placing your hand to your chest and acting offended as he did before, sarcastically saying “to think you really cared about gifting me a beautiful seashell. Is my love a game to you?” He chuckles. “On any other day, no of course not. But we were ins competition babe, one I was made to win if I may add.”

“I’m heartbroken, shattered” you dramatically say as Richard just nods his head trying not to laugh. “Mhm, I’m sure you are truly damaged from this.”

“Very damaged” you agree with him until you’re unable to be serious anymore and burst out laughing, to which he does the same.

You hung out at the beach all day doing plenty more cheesy and childish activities, including making a sandcastle with your initials “R M + Y/I” engraved in front of it before heading back to the hotel and cleaning yourselves up for dinner. Which you still had to pay for after losing the running to the ocean race, because Richard keeps his word, which hopefully works to your advantage considering he said he’d make up for it.

After dinner you hung out in the hotel, watching a movie before getting ready to head back down for a walk on the beach and to watch the sunset.

Your fingers are laced between Richard’s as you walk on the beach, the warm sand running through your toes as you watch the sun go down in the gorgeous pink and orange sky.

“Isn’t this just lovely?” You smile up at Richard, lightly grazing your thumb over his on the hand you’re holding. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here with you”

“I feel the same exact way baby girl. And by the way, I did end up being right.” He grins at you, leaving you unsure of what he’s talking about. “About what love?”

“Now that we have it confirmed, I indeed was correct. You are more beautiful and vibrant than the sunset we saw tonight” giving you a big smile before pulling you into him, ending your perfect night walking on the beach with a passionate, loving kiss.

[writingformadderton]

Thank you for all your loving💜

Ship: Madderton

Word Count: 2743

Summary: Richard is shooting in Los Angeles while Taron is back home in London. When Rich realizes that Taron got sick he tries to prepone his shooting break, that T doesn´t know about, to take care of him himself. 

Additional tags: fluff, soft, sickness, homesickness, kissing

The sun shines brightly this morning and through the windows of the bedroom. Richard yawns and rubs his eyes, grabbing his phone. As like every other morning, the first thing he sees is a message from his lovely boyfriend Taron. He never forgets to write him, especially in these last 3 months. Rich has been staying in LA to film a movie. Taron was able to find work in London and could stay in their shared home. Rich checks the time, 7am. The time difference between London and LA is 8 hours, so it’s 3pm in London currently. 

Time for a videocall? - Richard 

Sure! - Taron

Richard makes himself comfortable in his pillows and dials Taron’s number. Not a second later, he sees his beautiful boy smiling bright into the camera. “Hey. How are you?” Richard asks softly and starts to feel homesickness creep into him. These 3 months feel like eternity and he misses his boyfriend deeply. 

“I’m good.” Taron’s says with a smile, but his eyes soften once he sees his boyfriend’s face. “Please don’t look at me with those sad eyes when I can’t cuddle you.” Taron knows exactly how much Rich misses him, just like he’s missing Rich. 

Richard just smiles weakly and watches him. Taron is wearing a hoodie and lying in bed. His hair is a bit of a mess and he has dark shadows under his eyes. Usually he up running around or doing something, he could never just stand still. “You look tired T. Are you sure you’re alright?” Rich asks concerned. 

Taron nods and tries to put on a brave face and look absolutely fine. If Richard was sitting next to him, he wouldn’t believe any of it. Taron had a heating pad under his hoodie lying on his belly. He started feeling sick 2 hours ago and the feeling only got worse. He was confined to his bed as sickness took over him. 

Richard decides to change the topic, knowing Taron wouldn’t admit to anything. They talk about the scenes they recently shot and people they met. Rich carefully avoids the topic of him coming home. He knew for sure that if it was brought up, he would ruin the surprise. The whole crew decided to go on a 2 week break in a little over a week from now. He couldn’t wait to be with his boyfriend again. 

Taron feels his body protest against the heating pad on his stomach and the pain radiate throughout his body. He takes a deep breath and focuses on the blanket on top of him. 

Richard notices this small action and frowns. “Hey, what’s wrong lovely?” he inquires worried and sits up. He watches how his boyfriend’s skin had gotten paler in a short time span. “You look like you’re gonna throw up.”

Taron shakes his head and forces a smile. “I’m alright.” he barely speaks out before coughing roughly, nearly retching, and holds his hands to his stomach. “Hey Rich. I’m gonna call you back. The doorbell just rang.” he tries to lie to his boyfriend and make it sound believable. 

“No, it didn’t! Our doorbell is fucking loud, I would’ve heard it.” Richard responds annoyed and rolls his eyes. Taron was not a good liar and it slightly irritated Richard when he tried. Why wouldn’t he just admit he wasn’t feeling good?

“Oh god.” Taron mumbles and jumps out of bed and runs right to the bathroom. His phone falls to the floor but he doesn’t have time to pick it up as his upset stomach urges him to other things. 

“Taron?!” Richard raises his voice a little in concern and gets up. Looking at the time, he only had 10 minutes before he needed to meet with the director. He gets dressed and goes into the bathroom to finish getting ready. He looks at his phone screen, still dark. 5 minutes pass, Richard is on set and getting worried, pacing in his trailer. 

Meanwhile, Taron stumbled into their bathroom back home and fell to his knees. He started to vomit and let out a groan. His eyes were brimmed with tears from vomiting and trying to breath. He flushed the toilet and leaned up against the cold wall. “Shit.” he groaned and forced himself up, going back to his bedroom. He picked his phone up from the floor and lays back down in bed. Now there’s no way he’d be able to fool his boyfriend. Taron switches to a normal call and holds the phone to his ear, barely able to let out a whisper. His boyfriend is rambling with worry in his voice, it makes Taron smile. “Rich, calm down.” he interrupts him. “I’m a bit sick I think, that’s all. Don’t worry too much okay?” 

Richard tries to sort his thoughts. “Listen, I have a shoot in 3 minutes and I don’t think I’ll be able to talk to you again. Please try to sleep a bit and stay in bed. Don’t forget to drink water. I love you, T.” Richard speaks, concern still laced in his voice. He hears Taron chuckle and could almost see him shaking his head. 

“I love you too Rich.”

"Annnd cut!” Richard lets out a sigh as the director ends the scene. They finally got it done. Richard messed up his lines a few times or got confused in his stage directions. His brain was preoccupied with Taron’s condition and the director noticed his distracted state. He comes up to Rich and pats him on the back. “What’s on your mind, Madden? You don’t seem to be here.”  

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m gonna do my best.” he simply says and tries not to think of his sick boyfriend being back at home. But it doesn’t work and he messes up the next scene.

 It is 12 am when he finally has a break, 8am London time. He rushes back to his trailer and calls Taron. It takes a while until Taron takes the call. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” Richard asks looking at his boyfriend with soft eyes. 

“Not really.” T says and breathes heavily. The sunlight shines brightly and over Taron’s eyes slightly. He gets up and closes the curtains. 

“How are you feeling, my love?” Richard leans against the counter of his mini kitchen. 

Taron rubs his forehead, trying to force the headache away. “Shitty, to be honest.” he responds chuckling and grabs the tea on the bedside table. “But I stopped throwing up 2 hours ago, which is good.” he takes a sip and burns his tongue, mumbling curse words and nearly dropping the cup. “How’s the shoot?” 

“I don’t really wanna talk about it.” Richard says quietly and looks down at the floor. If there was one thing he hated most, it was scenes that did not go as planned. And today he had 3 of them, which really annoyed him. 

Taron frowns and lies down again. There was literally nothing that could distract his boyfriend when he was filming a scene. “What’s wrong, Rich?” he asks softly. 

The gentleness in his voice makes Richard’s heart beat faster. “Nothing.” he simply answers, knowing it wouldn’t convince him. 

Taron chuckles and shakes his head. “Liar.” he teases Rich and smiles to himself. Silence echoed through the other end of the line. What was going through the Scottish man’s head? 

“I just miss you T.” he finally admits. It wasn’t a complete lie. But he also was worried about him. Taron is somebody that needs comfort when he´s sick and gets really needy. Rich feels bad for not being there.

“Aww I miss you too Rich.” Taron covers himself with his blanket to remedy his shivering body. “When are you coming back?” 

“I don’t know yet.” Richard speaks and bites his lip. He desperately tries to hide a laugh. The Scottish man couldn’t wait to see Taron’s face when he stands in front of their door. 

“Hmm, okay.” Taron presses his lips together tightly and tries to hide the disappointment in his features. He sneezes loudly and reaches for the box of tissues on the bedside table to clear his blocked nose. 

“I have to go back. I’m sorry T. See you later.” Richard says and regrets it soon after. See you later? 

“Bye Rich.” Taron says and hangs up, unaware of his boyfriend’s small gestures. He looks up at the ceiling and sighs and puts his phone down. He cuddles into his blanket more, body still in a cold sweat. “Where’s my boyfriend when I need him?” He asks into the silence and hugs the heating pad closer to his body. 

Richard made up his mind and decided to fully go through with his decision. He walked to the director’s trailer and apologized for his lack of emotions during their shoot. He then builds up the courage to ask about an idea he had in his head. 

The next day, he finds himself comfortable in first class on a plane heading back home. He was lucky enough to get a ticket for the first flight at his earliest convenience. In London, it would be 3am when he’ll arrive back home. Richard puts his AirPods in and presses play. “Thank You For All of Your Loving” starts playing and the voice of Taron in his ears calms him down. 

“What a difference it made

My life has started again.

And if you go away

It just won’t be the same.”  

Richard smiles to himself hearing those lines. Taron sang it in his ear 3 months ago when they were in the airport. He remembers the bright smile on his boyfriend’s face that slowly faded away up until he went through the security gates. He remembers how he felt seeing Taron standing right before him for the last time in a while.

It’s raining heavily when he steps out of the airplane and into the ice cold atmosphere. “Home sweet home.” he mumbles to himself and takes his suitcase and carry on. He’s soaked in a matter of seconds and the cold winds do him no good. Richard heads into the airport hall and calls a cab to bring him home. After a short ride, he makes it home and pays the cab driver. Grabbing his bags, he looks at his front door and sighs, walking right up to it. He doesn’t know where he packed his keys so he rings the doorbell. 

Three rings later, he hears the familiar footsteps of his boyfriend coming towards the door. Taron opens the door, a foul mood on his features. “I’m sorry sir, but you do know it’s 3am and some people -“ he starts to explain and looks up mid sentence. His eyes widen and his jaw drops. “What the fuck Richard?” Taron pulls him into a tight hug and smiles brightly. Neither of them can believe they are in front of each other at this moment. Taron pulls away and lets Rich inside. “Why didn’t you tell me you were-“ 

Richard interrupts him by planting a kiss on his lips. Rich pulls him closer by grabbing his neck, getting his boyfriend wet, and starts playing with his hair. “It was meant to be a surprise.” Rich says in between kisses and looks into the blueish green eyes of his boyfriend, which are full of joy. “I told you I was gonna see you later.” He smiles. 

“You little liar!” Taron says laughing and pulls Rich into another hug. “I’ll run you a bath, you’re gonna catch a cold.” he whispers happily. 

“I don’t care.” Richard says and holds him tighter. 

To hear his heavy Scottish accent right in his ear after all this time made him weak. “But I do.” T retorts and kisses him one last time. He takes his suitcase and carries it upstairs while Richard takes off his shoes by the door.  

A few minutes later, Richard is in the bathroom and Taron is downstairs in the kitchen. He makes some tea for the both of them and sings quietly. He carries the tea upstairs and put them on the bedside table. 

Richard steps out of the bathroom and smiles at his boyfriend adoringly. He walks over to Taron and gives him a kiss. “God, I’ve missed you.” he says as his heart beats fast.  

T looks into the amazingly deep blue eyes of his love. “I’ve missed you too. But if you don’t stop kissing me you’ll be sick soon.” he speaks sadly, staring at Richard’s full lips. 

“Do you really think I care about the risk of getting sick after 3 months without you?” Richard laughs and grabs the hand of his pretty boy. He gently rubs over his knuckles. Taron smiles and notices that his sick body isn’t pleased with his actions. His hands begin to shake and his skin gets paler. Richard notices and pulls Taron into a safe hug. “Let’s get you some rest, shall we?”

Taron nods thankfully and follows him. They lie down on the bed, Taron’s head resting on Richard’s chest. He closes his eyes and feels his body start to relax. “Please don’t leave me alone for 3 months ever again.” T whispers and cuddles into his boyfriend. 

Rich chuckles and gently runs his fingers through T’s hair. “I won’t. Only with breaks.” Rich adds, knowing that a promise like that was impossible with his job. Taron chuckled, knowing it as well. They fall asleep holding each other closely. Taron felt warm and safe for the first time in a while. 

 T wakes up alone the next morning. The empty side next to him is made, the cups from earlier are gone and the curtains are closed. He sits up and looks around, but he doesn’t see Richard’s suitcase anywhere. Was it all just a dream his mind created out of loneliness? “You idiot, you really thought he’d pack up and come home just because you were sick.” T mumbles to himself and gets out of bed. 

He walks downstairs and sees himself in the mirror by the front door. His hair is a mess, his eyes screamed for sleep and his nose was a light shade of red from all the tissues he used. He rubs his hurting neck and wanders into the kitchen. 

There he was right in front of him. It wasn’t a dream at all. Taron smiles to himself watching Richard make tea for him and a cup of coffee for himself. He has his AirPods in and doesn’t hear him come in. Taron takes one out and puts it into his own ear. “Thank You For All Your Loving” is playing and Taron laughs surprised. He starts to sing along to the lyrics. 

“It was I on my own, with no need to belong. And I wanted to....cry.” He sings and replaces the word die. “That’s when you came along.” 

Richard laughs and shakes his head. “Morning, my love.” He greets the Welsh boy, turning around and opening his arms. Taron immediately leans in for a hug and relaxes himself against Rich. 

He grabs Richard’s phone and goes into the music app. The Rocketman soundtracks appears instantly. “You really missed me huh?” Taron teases cheekily grinning. 

“Of course! Now get back in bed. You’re still sick.” Richard says looking at his boyfriend. Taron pouts and hugs him tighter, shaking his head. “I’m serious, I’m right behind you. Go on.” He gives T a kiss on the forehead and lets him go. 

“Thank you for bein’ here!” Taron sings sarcastically and walks back upstairs. He lies back in bed and stares at the ceiling. He hates himself for being sick now that Richard’s back. But also, maybe Rich wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t. Richard comes in a few minutes later with their cups and a plate. Taron looks at him curiously and his heart warms when he sees that Rich bought his favorite cookies. “You’re the best.” T cheers and pulls Rich into a kiss as soon as he put the plate and cups down. 

“I knew you would love it.” he says warmly and looks into the Welsh’s eyes. “Now stop kissing me. I can’t be sick for the month that I’m back home.”

Taron’s eyes lit up as soon as he heard the words. “A whole month! Lucky me.” He cheekily grins and can’t help but kiss his boyfriend again.

@taruhnegerton @mochidoubleb @dreamingwolfthings @cheshirechan @applesfallingfromblondehair 

[fyeahwonderbat]

In the Middle of a Broken Constellation - PT. 13

Pairing: WonderBat (Wonder Woman x Batman) Rating: T / 14A Universe: N/A - Reader’s Choice Previous Chapter: <- Chapter 12

Diana didn’t mean to slam her apartment door when she returned home that evening, but she was just too irritated to care about the strength she used to close it.

“Whoa!” came a startled yelp from the kitchen. She shot her blue-eyed glare across the hall, only to find a nervous Jason preparing dinner at the stove, a sizzling pan in one hand and a spatula in the other.

And an adorable apron with frills making him look the part of the perfect homemaker.

It was shocking enough to smooth out her temper just enough to smile. “Sorry,” she mumbled. After a deep breath and the removal of her emergency black flats, Diana entered the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “I didn’t know you’d be home.”

“Where else would I be? I haven’t heard about any leads from you or the League, it’s not dark enough for criminals to be roaming the streets yet, and I was getting hungry.” Jason explained, covering all of his bases to justify his time at home.

Except for one, which Diana decided to bring up for him. “Nightwing wouldn’t let you join him and Huntress?”

Surprisingly, an honest scoff was his answer. “Nope.”

She did her best not to giggle as she reached into the fridge for her water filter and bring it with her over to the cupboard. While taking a glass off of the shelf, she listened to the sound of the meal being prepared and felt her stomach grumble. When she caught the scent of it, a second grumble shook her body. “So what are we having?” asked a famished Diana.

Proudly, Jason announced. “I’m making my world renowned burgers.”

“How is it ‘world famous’?” Diana inquired as she took her first sip of water all day.

“Because I’ve had to cook for myself many times while traveling from place to place, so I’ve made this particular recipe while I was all over the world.” Was his half-witted explanation. It immediately occurred to her that she could – and rightfully should – correct his understanding what ‘world renowned’ meant, but it didn’t seem like it would be worth the effort after the day she had had. Not only that, but the food did smell particularly delicious and she didn’t want to risk having her portion revoked.

Conceding to his logic, Diana put her cup down on the counter and headed towards her bedroom. “Did any of my belongings arrive today?”

“No, sorry.” He yelled down the hall after her, his sympathy genuine. Sighing to herself, Diana entered her bedroom and looked at the barren space. The hardwood beams that caught the light of the street gleamed with a rather pale glow, making the entire space feel all the more hollow. There was no bed for her to sleep on until it was delivered next week, and there were no dressers or night stands for her belongings until next weekend; she felt like she was on a sting operation rather than integrating into Gotham City, when her new home looked as barren as it did. Despite knowing that all of her possessions would be set up for her in a matter of days, she couldn’t feel settled in until she could see herself all over her new bedroom.

It wasn’t the first time she had to sleep on a cold floor though, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

She decided to move beyond her self-pity and open up her carry-on bags that she had placed in her closet. Whenever she traveled to the States, she always packed extra outfits in case she ever lost her suitcase during the trip, so she was absolutely prepared to dress down into her pajamas. She changed into her satin set of a button up shirt and shorts within a few minutes and exited her room with a new determined attitude.

The scent of beef seemed farther away than it had before, and Diana realized that Jason had brought their meals into the living room. Her slipper-wearing feet carried her down the hallway until she spotted a rather surprising set up for their dinner. “Oh, you found us a table?” Her question merely stated the obvious, but she was actually impressed. It was simply a foldable surface that he had placed near their window, but the matching pair of chairs meant that they actually had somewhere formal to sit and eat until everything else she owned arrived.

Jason was laying down their plates while answering her, rather focused on the table setting looking just right as he refused to look her way until he was finished with it. “It’s not much, but yeah. I didn’t think we’d want to eat on the floor when we have our own place. It’s kind of cramped, but it’s a table.”

Diana couldn’t argue with him there. “It’s a great table,” she praised him earnestly while walking the expanse of the long living room. She reached her seat and made sure she looked him in the eyes as she added, “Thank you.”

Jason nodded in acknowledgement of her words before sitting down and digging in.

For a moment, it seemed rather calm in her apartment. Her roommate had made her dinner so she didn’t need to cook as soon as she got home, the sun hadn’t set yet on the summery day in Gotham City, and there wasn’t a single police car or ambulance siren wailing off in the distance.

“Oh,” a thought struck her just before she picked up her burger. “Did you see me on the news?”

Jason quirked a brow while his mouth was completely stuffed. “No? We don’t have cable, and I was finding us this table.” Somehow, she understood what he was saying through the massive bites of food he was shoveling down.

Maybe it was because she was able to understand animals…

She decided to take a bite of her own dinner, chew it properly and swallow before she filled him in on everything he had missed today. “I was locked in the isolation ward at the hospital with the people who had been turned into sludge monsters.”

“You WHAT!?” Jason exclaimed, firing bits of food at her unintentionally.

Diana ripped her napkin off of the table and dabbed at her face, brows furrowed ever so slightly. “I went there today on behalf of the Wayne Foundation, and somehow, I was locked in there with about fifty people who had been transformed by the sludge. I couldn’t fight them or escape without giving away that I’m Wonder Woman, so I had to just survive until Superman showed up and rescued me.”

For a moment or two, Jason couldn’t speak. The story she had told him was running through his mind and his mental process of digesting her words showed on his face plainly. So startled was he, he put his world famous burger down and invested himself entirely in her recap of her day. “How the hell do you get locked in an isolation ward at a hospital?”

“That’s what I’d like to know, and it’s just another thing added to our list of mysteries to solve.” Grumbled Diana as she spoke her realization aloud. It felt to her as though their mission to save Bruce was becoming more and more complicated without leading to any answers, and her patience was wearing thin, especially after her ordeal at Gotham General on her first day on the job.

“Is that why you were so angry when you came home?” Jason questioned her gently. Taking a rather hefty bite of her dinner, Diana simply nodded as she chewed.

“Well, we knew this wasn’t going to be easy when we started out,” he tried to pacify her with reason. “We were all coming into this thing with Bruce a month late. Yeah, it sucks that we keep unearthing more problems than solutions. But I think we’ve all realized by now that rushing into things isn’t going to work. The sludge is contained, Bruce is functioning normally – or what it appears to be his new version of normal – and we pretty much have a superhero army on the case.”

Diana was ready to fire off a retort the moment he started listing their different tasks. “We know that the sludge isn’t contained because Aquaman and the Flash were last seen fighting off a new version of it, and we haven’t heard from them since. Should we send someone to check on them? Should we try to contact Atlantis? I don’t know!”

“Diana…”

His attempt to counter her logic only urged her onwards. “Bruce isn’t normal because we know he has some kind of cognitive impairment, but we don’t know what it is! I am spending the day with him tomorrow, and I can try to scan him again, and hopefully Cyborg can determine what’s wrong with him. Meanwhile, we have roughly fifty people in Gotham General who are infected with this sludge that has no cure, along with the people in Metropolis and the people in Central City. Superman is dividing his time between Metropolis and Gotham to help us find out as much information as we can, but Central City is still unprotected while the Flash is missing.

“We think Oracle has been consumed by the sludge, we think Vicki Vale might have been too, and all of those innocent people are left suffering in those mindless, violent sludge monster bodies until we can try to find a cure. But we don’t have any ethical procedures put in place because we don’t know anything about this substances. I can’t ask Cyborg to touch it though or we could lose him too! This entire situation is absolutely maddening! And I’m sitting here, in an empty apartment, trying to move my life from Paris to Gotham, when I should have just taken an extended leave from work and… and…”

She couldn’t think of what her alternative would have led her to do, and it resulted in a rather heavy silence in the middle of their conversation. The absurdity of her day finally caught up with her and she couldn’t stop herself from venting to the nearest crime-fighting human being. The longer she spoke, the more embarrassed she felt about her outburst, creating a rather petulant rant she hadn’t expected. It was true that she felt overwhelmed by all that was going on, lost in terms of what options she had, disappointed that no results had been yielded after putting forth a plan that involved the Justice League.

For the first time in a very long time, she felt anxious when she realized that she had absolutely no control over anything going on in her life.

That feeling of disappointment in herself doubled in size when Jason got up from the table suddenly. “Jason,” she called to him, ready to apologize. However, all he intended to do was retrieve his home that was plugged into a charger in the wall, then he returned to his seat while unlocking his device. Then, a question spilled out of her against her will. “You have a phone?” He didn’t look up at her as he kept his fingers busy. “It doesn’t have service. I found it in the garbage once while I was in Canada and it was in perfect condition. I just hobo off of other people’s Wi-Fi to watch videos online or type up encrypted notes for myself when I’m working on something.”

“Oh.” Was all she could think of to say.

He glanced at her over the top of his device, then showed her a pale white screen, with only the words ‘Moving In: Checklist’ written across the top. When she didn’t react, he clarified his intention slowly, “That’s what we’ll call this mission.”

Still uncertain about the meaning of his actions, Diana simply replied with a similarly paced, “Okay.”

An unimpressed look crossed his face, but Jason recovered and began typing away, moving on without her. “So we have you, me, Cyborg, Superman, Aquaman and the Flash on the case, right?”

Diana nodded. “We also have Nightwing and Huntress, and possibly some more allies from my side.”

That last comment of hers caused him to lift his head up. “Your side?” He paraphrased her, one brow arched high on his forehead.

“I sent for help from the Amazons, and asked Donna and Cassandra if they’d help, should we need them. Even though I haven’t heard back from anyone, I wouldn’t count them out entirely.”

“Well, I’m only going to include who we have with us now,” Jason stated, rather efficient about his note-making. “If we break this list down person by person, what is everyone doing? Which mission are they apart of?”

Diana sat up straight and counted each person on her fingers as she tried to figure everything out. “I’m working at the Wayne Foundation to guard Bruce from any other possible attacks, and to make sure his condition doesn’t worsen.”

“And to see if you can scan him so we can figure out what the hell happened to him.” Jason tacked on.

Diana let him add that to her to-do list, but didn’t wait very long to carry on with her rundown. “Cyborg is trying to analyze the sludge back at Headquarters, though he knows he can’t touch it. Once I scan Bruce, he’ll analyze that information too. He’s essentially filling in for Oracle now that we know she’s been consumed by the sludge.”

Across the table, Jason’s body twitched momentarily. He continued on typing, never looking away from the screen, piping up rather softly to ask, “So you think she’s gone, or you know?”

One second too late, Diana realized that she had been rather crude in relaying that information to Jason. There was no doubt that they were friends, given that they both worked for the Batman at one point or another. Her tone was a tad guarded when she responded to him. “According to Clark, she’s been gone just as long as Bruce has.”

“Well, I’ll add a visit to her place onto my to-do list,” Jason promised, his voice as rigid as his expression. “Speaking of Superman, what’s he up to?”

“He told me he wants to hunt down Vicki Vale, see what leads she had. He thinks she’s disappeared, that someone thought she was getting too close to the mystery of the sludge and took her down before she found anything.”

“Dammit, this could have so many more layers than we realize,” Jason cursed and bit his lip as he typed away furiously on his phone. He was beginning to empathetically understand her frustrations from earlier, making her feel much less ashamed of her whining. “Either this is just one bad dude or there could be a bunch of people in on this. They’re taking out reporters, they’re infecting cities…” “And then creating a single sludge monster to appear off the coast of Maine just to take away the Flash and Aquaman.”

“Do we know they’re missing?” Instantaneously, Jason shot his head up, staring her down from across the table. He was absolutely determined to only deal in facts, as evident in his claim to visit Barbara’s house. She wasn’t any different, however, Diana found it a tad upsetting that he felt the need to question her about what she and Cyborg had already agreed upon.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Diana stood her ground when she addressed his subtle disbelief. “They’re officially MIA. They went to handle the monster and haven’t been heard from since. Their Comms are dead, and we can’t confirm if they are alive or dead.” The blunt way in which she had to speak to him was rather painful, but she handled herself with poise to avoid another bout of volatility.

He didn’t question her when she stood up to him in such a way. Instead, he approached the situation from another angle, “Do we have plans for a rescue mission?”

That question deflated her. “No, we don’t. Given how thin our resources are already, I don’t have anyone else to spare. We need to contact someone from Atlantis if we are going to search for them, since the fight they had with a new version of the sludge monster was over water.”

“Why don’t we do it?” Jason suggested, his tone flippant, like it was the simplest and most effective idea he’d ever had in his life.

Quizzical, Diana frowned at him. “Do what?”

Jason answered with an overtly cheeky grin. “I’m bored, we’ve got no plans for the night. Let’s go search for them.”

“Jason,” she prepared herself mentally for the conversation that was sure to ensue before she rebuffed his idea, “We can’t breathe underwater the way an Atlantean can. We’d have no way to search for them aside from flying Bruce’s plane over the ocean and hoping to spot something. It’s unrealistic.”

That reply did not appear to satisfy his curiosity, nor his supposed boredom. Holding his phone in one hand and following the rhythm of his answer with the other, he bit back, “But we aren’t going to find them if don’t do anything at all. What, you just want to leave them out there?”

“No!” Argued the incredibly offended Amazon, her combative instincts making her rise out of her seat. “It’d be foolish to travel all the way out there with no really plan on how to locate them. Our only plan is to talk to an Atlantean—”

Jason stood as well, invigorated. “Right! So let’s do that.”

“—but he never gave us a way to do that. We can go to Headquarters and check.”

“Then let’s go!” Again, Jason was prepared to leave the apartment and travel to the JLA Headquarters at a moment’s notice.

His eagerness was becoming more of a nuisance, steadily declining in endearment. Diana nearly shouted, “Then what happens if we can’t contact them, and you still want to go out there? What do we do if you and I are taken away as well? What happens to Bruce, to Alfred, to all of the people infected and any future victims if we leave Superman and Cyborg to handle everything on their own? We can’t just run into something like this without a plan.”

Jason’s responses was already on the tip of his tongue by the time she finished her last question, but instead of hearing his reply, someone else spoke in place of him. “Wow, I never would have guessed that I’d find you like this.”

The window had become her knew doorway, Diana thought, as she stared up into the eyes of her latest intruder. It was about time that someone from ‘her side’ arrived to help them defeat this evil that had infiltrated the Justice League’s livelihoods. She just didn’t expect it to be like this…

((Who could it be!? It was super important I organized the mission records for both Diana and you, my beautiful readers. There's a lot going on and the different plot lines need to be spelled out before me dive into the romance- I mean, the friendship of Diana and Bruce. Hope you enjoyed this fun chapter amidst the serious tones of the last one, and hope you return next week to see who our guest is! Also, I have my own original story now available on the Radish ficiton app (pink logo with a white 'R' in the middle). It's a free app where I was invited to write original content, and I have my first series out called "The Aeternum Series: Book One". If you're into Greek mythology or magic or romance that's both sweet and sexy, please check it out! You can also learn more about it by following my social media accounts JenAnneGam. Thanks so much! ~ Maiden))

[seekers-who-are-lovers]

Hey, @andrealein , so sorry for the delay. Thank you for the tag nevertheless.

I love this. This feels like answering a friendship book.

1. You may call me: Elen, or Ely. 

2. I live with: the Queen, Tussi the cat. 

3. Countries i’d like to travel around: Japan (the whole of it), some parts of Scotland, Denmark, Costa Rica, the whole of Spain stretching toward France (I really would love to see Provençe) and then Italy (the southern parts close to the Mediterranean Sea), Thailand, Myanmar, some parts of China (but I am not sure if I would as I hate their government). 

4. Some good scents: Patchouli, lavender (all the time), tasty fresh orange peel, baby’s scent, Tussi’s smell, roasted coffee in the morning and freshly baked pain au chocolat

5. When I made this blog: I am thinking why I have come back. I deleted my old one I created in 2009 last year. Then six months later I returned. Everyone wanted to forget that Sherlock BBC season 4 exist.

6. Some favorite things about winter: fluffy socks, one-day old snow, boots, homemade punch, and the smell of fresh Christmas trees. 

7. Some favorite drinks: green Jasmin tea, oolong, caffe latte, pineapple juice.

8. Some current celebrity crushes: Richard Madden and Lily James. (And no, I haven’t seen Cinderella yet. Thinking if I should.) Riz Ahmed. Keeley Hawes.

9. I was raised on: blood, sweat, tears 

10. Song I was recently reminded that I love: Stand by R.E.M. The band thought it was a dumb song.

11. Play at my funeral: I actually have created a Spotify playlist, but it is not yet complete. So far, I only have two songs in there. 

12. Some of my tribes: I don’t have any. I refuse to be part of any tribe. I despise cliques. I despise anything that constitutes something like grouping.  

13. Have a book I’m currently reading instead: Trying to finish Stefan Zweig’s The World of Yesterday and starting Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet 

13. Rec a fic: I think everybody knows that @engazed is a genius who can create a whole darn universe. So if you aren’t reading The Grating Roar, you should do it now. Also @calaisreno is fast becoming a fave. Their fiction “Half-Life of Love” took me by surprise.

14. How I keep my hair: Chin-length with fringe. Easy, no fuss.

15. What have you planned for christmas or halloween: Both holidays are over, but during Christmas, we try to spend it with my in-law. As for Halloween, I stay at home, watch creepy movies, and prepare for the cemetery trek the next day.

I tag the ff people @perpetuallyvex , @martin-modman , @twomenofnote , @a-isabelthings , @shelleysprometheus , @alihahdnaid and others who may see this. Only if you want.

[hellzeldagirlsfanfic]

To Regain What I Lost Chapter 4 Part 1

It was late into the night, about ten-ish. Caster stood on the cliff overlooking the road where the other Caster would appear. Caster had come up with a plan to take care of the other Caster.

The plan had two parts to it. The main part of the plan was to deceive the other Caster by using an illusion of Saber and her master. Whiles he was distracted by the illusion she would then trap him then she would finish him off. The other part was a distraction for Saber and her master so they wouldn't interrupt her 'battle'.

All of the preparation had been done beforehand, all Caster needed was for the other Caster to appear.

Caster waited patiently for the moment she could put her plan into motion. Caster felt someone appear next to her.

"Hello Assassin, how may I help you?" She asked him.

"Just here to fill you in about Saber's and Lancer's battle," He answered.

Caster crouched down, wrapping her arms around her legs.

"I know most of what happened," She told him. "I had one of my familiars watching the battle. Though there are some things she couldn't pick up,"

"I am very happy to fill in the blanks for you," Assassin offered.

"Thank you, Assassin," She thanked him. "What was Rider's name? My familiar couldn't pronounce it," Caster asked.

"Iskandar," Assassin simply answered.

There was a brief moment of silence before Caster spoke.

"Please tell me that's a joke?" She asked.

"Unfortunately not," he replied. "Is there something wrong with that?"

Caster stared into the night sky before she answered Assassin.

"I used to read a lot about Alexander the Great as a child. I guess I have a heavy romanticize version of him. I didn't think he is someone who goes head first into battle without a plan," She explained.

Assassin hummed. "Anything else?"

"Could you explain Berserker's Noble Phantasm?" She asked.

"It seems like anything Berserker touches become his Noble Phantasm. I'm not sure it extends to other Noble Phantasm," Assassin explained.

Caster hummed in reply. Taking in the information and running it against her knowledge of different heroes she had read about. There wasn't much to work off since Berserker's appearance was brief, Ouse couldn't give a detail description of him.

Her thoughts were stopped by an unfamiliar presence. Caster focuses her eyes back onto the road. She could make out the figure of the other Caster on the road, waiting for Saber to come. Standing up, she nodded to Assassin signalling to him that it was time for her to put her plan into motion.

Moving to the edge of the cliff, Caster took a deep breath before proceeding forward.

'Yae, Sae are you ready' She asked.

'Yes Matilda,' The twins answered in the union.

Caster nodded to herself.

"This man who’s maddened by his desires, allow them to become reality. Weave and fabricate his desire into an illusion," Caster commanded her spell.

There was a brief moment before the sound of screeching tyres could be heard from up the road.

From one of the corners of the road came a silver Mercedes-Benz 300SL at a ridiculously fast speed. It continued at its fast-pace before stopping abruptly a couple meters in front of the other Caster.

The silver Mercedes' doors opened and Saber and her master stepped out. Both of them made their way to the front of the car, coming face to face with the other Caster. Saber stood slightly more in front of her master to protect her from the unknown servant.

The other Caster bowed to them crossing one of his arms across his body.

"I have come for you, my sweet and holy virgin," he said as he bowed. "Do you know this man," Saber's master inquired.

"I've never laid eyes on him," She answered honestly.

During this exchange of words Caster sneaked behind the silver car, waiting for the perfect moment to launch her attack.

"Oh no!" The other Caster cried out. "Are you saying you've forgotten my face?" he desperately asked.

"Forgotten you?" Saber repeated, stepping forward a bit. "I've never met you in my life. You mistake me for another," Saber told him.

The other Caster grabbed his hair and let out a small scream. "It's me, Gilles de Rais!" He cried out again, putting his left hand over his heart. "I have prayed for your resurrection and have been waiting for a miracle to reunite us. To that end I've come all this way to the end of time, my Jeanne," Caster rambled.

During his madden rambling the other Caster let loose his true identity. Gilles de Rais. That name fills Caster with a sickening hatred. She read about his heroic deeds during the Hundred Years War, as well as the story of Bluebeard.

"Who is Joanne?" Irisviel asked.

"I don't know your name I insure you. Nor have I any idea who this Joanne might be," Saber told him.

"No," Gilles whispered. "No, you've can't of forgotten, not your former identity," He asked.

"As you have deemed it fit to give me your name, I must in keeping with the chivalry code give mine. My name is Artoria, the heir to Uther Pendragon and King of Britain. I enter this battle in the saber class," Saber told him.

"Oh no! It's so very sad! She lost her memory and gone completely insane!" Gilles cried out once again. Gilles started screaming to God about how cruel he was while Gilles was hitting the ground with a fist.

Caster took this opportunity to trap Gilles. She abruptly cut off the illusion of catching Gilles off guard by this action. Using the moment of confusion to trap him. Caster uses the hair that she had placed around where Gilles stood, trapping him in a cocoon restraint.

"What is this!?" Gilles screamed.

"My trap. You have fallen right into it, Monsieur de Rais," Caster told him.

"Who are you!? What did you do with my fair Joanne!?" Gilles screeched.

"I'm Caster and Saber wasn't really there. It was all an illusion that I created so I could kill you," She told him.

"You liar! I am Caster of this Grail War!" Gilles screeched. "And how dare you use my fair Joanne like that!"

"Sorry to inform you but the Grail has decided to allow two Casters to be summoned in this war," She informed him. "As you can guess, there can be only one of us," She stated.

Gilles screamed and struggled against the hair-band restraint. Caster raised her right hand, calling the ends of her hairs to it. Once all the ends had gathered in her hand, she gave them a good old tug, tightening the hold of the cocoon. Gilles was still able to breathe properly but the hold was unbearable.

"Who is your Master?" Caster questions him.

"I will never tell you who my Master is! You Witch!" Gilles continued to screech.

Caster stood unaffected by Gilles screeching. She wrapped her hair around her hand and once again tugging on the hair, making the cocoon even tighter. Gilles now found it hard to breathe. He began to struggle even more against the restraints.

As Caster was about to talk again, she felt a presence of something about to attack her. Caster quickly jumped out of its way and activated her clairvoyance. Her clairvoyance shows her that something else would also try and attack her. Caster pumped mana to her feet, this would allow her to jump to have more power to it. She proceeded to jump onto the side of the cliff.

Looking back at the road to see what had attacked her, she was greeted with a strange site.

The creators- if you could call them that- looked like mutant starfish. Caster couldn't make out much detail about the creators' appearance since the lighting on the road was poor. From the energy, their bodies were giving off they were some kind of demon.

Caster could feel the threads of her hair being tugged. She looked back over at Gilles, who was now struggling more intensely against her hair. Noticing that Gilles was trapped, one of the creators jumped onto the strands connecting Caster to the cocoon while the other attached itself to the cocoon.

The creators tore through the hair freeing Gilles from his binds. Once he was free, Gilles reached inside of his cloak and pulled out a grimoire.

"You witch! I'll destroy you!" Gilles screeched.

A smirk spread across Caster's face.

"If it's a fight you want, I'll be happy to oblige," she said.

Caster ran her hand through her hair, pulling out some of her white hair. The strands of hair wrapped themselves around three of her fingers. Pouring more mana back into her legs Caster then jumped into the forest next to the road. As she passes Gilles some of her hair wrapped around his ankle pulling him into the forest as well. ***

Irisviel and Saber came rushing down the mountain road, heading back to Einzbern Castle.

Saber sat tensely in the passenger seat as Irisviel drove wildly around the corner.

"See! See! I told you so!" Irisviel happily said. "This car takes the turns really fast!"

"W-Well, that because your surprisingly a good driver," Saber nervously complimented Irisviel.

They came speeding over a bump in the road lifting the car and them into the air for a moment. This cause Saber a moment of fright.

"I know! You may not believe it but I practice all the time," Irisviel told Saber as she changed gears. "Of all the toys Kiritsugu has brought me over the years, this is my absolute favourite!" She confessed.

"Th-This is a toy?" Saber nervously asked.

Irisviel increased the speed, making the car go faster down the road.

"At the castle, I was only allowed to drive around the courtyard so, this is great!"

"Shouldn't we hired a professional driver?" Saber asked.

"No, that would be boring- I mean, it could be dangerous. What if the enemy were to suddenly launch attacked against us," Irisviel quickly bluffed out.

"Well, I suppose you have a point but-" Saber was interrupted when Irisviel slammed down on the breaks.

The car came screeching to a halt. Saber quickly looked over at Irisviel to see if she was fine -which she was,- before looking out of the window.

In front of the car like deer in the headlight, were two girls around the age of sixteen. The girls were identical to each, other most likely twins. They had dark browns hair that falls around their necks. They had walnut brown eyes. The girls were both wearing the same type of clothing, low tortilla brown swing coats with cedar brown knee length boots along with white woollen scarves.

One of the girls stood in front of the other, trying to protect the other girl whiles the other was clinging to the other.

The girls weren't servants or magus, just normal girls but what were they doing all the way out here this late at night.

"Irisviel stays here, I'll deal with the girls," Saber told her stepping out of the car.

Saber made her way to the front of the car where the girls were, now facing her as she came around. They cowered away from Saber when she reaches them.

"Are the two of you alright?" Saber asked.

The girl in front replied for both of them. "We're fine, just a bit shaken up,"

"That's good to hear," Saber said. "Why are the two of you here out so late?" she asked.

"Me and my sister were out trying to find some purple mountain flowers. We sort of lost track of time," The girl in front answered.

"And we got lost," Her sister added on.

Saber notices the girl behind was hiding behind her sister like she was afraid of her.

"I could take you back home? We're quite far from Fuyuki," Saber offered.

As they were about to answer, a large explosion came from the forest beside the road. Everyone turned to look at it. Dust rose into the air, it was around five meters long.

There was no doubting it was caused by servants.

Irisviel turned off the car and got out.

"Saber!" Irisviel called out to her.

Saber responded with a nod of the head before heading to the edge of the road. Irisviel now stood in front of the girls.

"We're just going to check out that explosion. You're welcome to wait in the car until we come back," She told them.

Irisviel then went over to Saber who picked her up in bridal fashion then proceeded to jumped down to the forest.

The girls stared at the spot were Saber and Irisviel had just been then turned the stare at the settling dust from the explosion. There was a moment of silence between them before either of them spoke.

"Do you think Matilda will be alright?" The girl in front asked.

"Of course Yae," The girl told her sister, moving closer to the side of the road. "She's powerful, talented and smart, she can find her way out of any situation," she said.

[Part 2]

[Chapter 3 Part 1] * [Chapter 5] * [Prologue]

[project-ml]

Project: Calendar 2018 — May Flowers and Garden Bugs (MAY)

may flowers and garden bugs

Written By: @breeeliss | Ao3

Beta’d By: @the-bored-bookworm | Ao3 & @krzed | Ao3

Word Count: 3685

Summary: “Did you know it’s always good luck for someone to have ladybugs and bees in their garden? They make a really great team without even realizing it. That’s why I knew from the moment you joined us that you and I were going to make a great team. I still think that.”

Two teammates have a heart-to-heart tucked away under the cover of Marinette’s rooftop garden.

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Tags: Chloé Bourgeois&Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Friendship, Beginnings of Romance, Bee Tendencies, Ladybug Tendences, Bug Tendencies, Springtime, Flowers, Rooftop Gardens, Aftermath of Reveal, Heart-to-Heart, Fluff, ML Spoilers

It started when Chloe began adding honey to her tea.

Normally, Chloe took her tea and her coffee black. It made no sense ruining expensive imported tea leaves and coffee beans by adding sweeteners that would dull the taste. But one day she was standing in the kitchen while her tea was steeping and eyed the jar of honey sitting in the cabinet. She didn’t know what came over her, but she added three whole tablespoons of the stuff into her mug and actually enjoyed the oversaturated taste after she’d done it.

She chalked it up to a momentary sweet tooth after checking her period tracker and assuming she was just getting weird midnight cravings. But there was one afternoon when she decided to go for a swim in the pool on the roof’s hotel and realized that being in the water felt wrong to her. Like it wasn’t really what she wanted to be doing all the way up here on the top floor of the hotel, which was strange because Chloe used to absolutely adore staying in the water until her skin pruned. Then, as she was toweling off, Chloe eyed the stone railings on the edge of the roof and suddenly felt this strange compulsion to stare out over the edge.

Chloe wound up climbing on top of the railings, letting her legs dangle over the edge, shutting her eyes, and holding her arms out to greet the breeze that was blowing in her direction. She could feel the great distance from the sidewalks below to the tips of her toes, and when she tipped her head back far enough, it almost felt like she was flying. Suddenly, she felt perfectly content, like something had finally been righted and satisfied.

By the time she started sneaking flower pots from the living room and hoarding them in her bedroom, Chloe decided that there was something severely wrong with her.

“Oh, it happens occasionally to some miraculous holders,” Pollen explained while Chloe stuck another spoonful of honey in her mouth. “Your powers are so intimately linked with the essence of the animal your miraculous stone represents that sometimes things can...bleed over, so to speak.”

Chloe raised a brow. “So what, am I going to start building beehives in my room and recruiting a colony of drones and workers?”

Pollen laughed. “Nothing like that, I promise. Most of the side effects are rather harmless and easy to ignore or get used to. Your honey cravings are about as inconvenient as they’ll get.”

“Inconvenient is an understatement. I’m pretty sure my butler thinks I’m a freak after asking him to add ten extra jars of honey to his shopping list. I’m going to have to start taking spinning classes or something. Burn off the extra calories.”

“You’ll be just fine,” Pollen giggled. “Past miraculous holders have told me the side effects get easier to manage with time, you just have to be patient. I’m sure your teammates have to deal with this as well. Ladybug might actually be particularly sympathetic to what you’re going through.”

Chloe blinked thoughtfully at the mention of Marinette and spoke around her spoon. “Why would you say that?”

“There are a lot of things that ladybugs and bees have in common,” Pollen winked. “Besides, it might be a good way to start a conversation with her.”

Chloe frowned and turned her chair away from Pollen. “Not happening.”

“Chloe,” Pollen sighed. “You can’t keep avoiding her forever. It’s been a month. The two of you ought to talk about this. You’re friends, after all.”

“Ladybug and Queen Bee are friends,” Chloe calmly corrected. “Chloe and Marinette aren’t. It isn’t as easy as you make it seem.”

It was almost laughable that after being so meticulously careful about keeping their identities a secret, Queen Bee and Ladybug would reveal them to each other over something as silly as flying into the same alleyway to detransform on accident. It was so anticlimactic that it took Chloe a few seconds to even register who was staring back at her, and by that time it was definitely too late to play it off like she hadn’t seen anything. Nothing had been communicated between them — only the silent understanding between two superheroes that this was something that needed to remain a secret for their own safety — and they walked off in opposite directions to create as much distance between them as possible.

Patrols were awkward, akuma attacks were awful, and their fighting and bickering during school hours had come to an abrupt halt once the two of them realized that their relationship had become ten times more complicated and that they didn’t know how to begin talking about it. So they settled with civil silence that somehow seemed to make things worse the longer it lasted.

But Chloe admired Ladybug with her entire soul. How was she supposed to talk to her now that she knew she was the same person she’d been butting heads with since they were eleven?

Pollen kept saying they needed to discuss what happened, that revealing identities to each other wasn’t anything to trivialize, but Chloe wasn’t trying to do anything of the sort. Every time she stared at Marinette from across the classroom or saw her walking by her desk, she’d think this was the moment she could say something. But whenever they made eye contact, Chloe would shrivel back inside herself and decide to say nothing. Seeing any animosity from Marinette at this point would feel like it was coming straight from Ladybug. Chloe didn’t think she could handle Ladybug looking at her like she was disappointed to know who had her back all these months when they were out risking their lives. Better to just not say anything and hope it would blow over on its own.

The next morning, Chloe shocked her driver into silence when she said that she preferred to walk to school rather than take the car. There was something criminal about not enjoying the warm weather, the flowers sprouting from the cracks in the sidewalk, and people poking their heads out of their apartment windows to water their windowsill gardens flourishing in the sunlight. Better than all of that was the cloudless sky hanging above Chloe’s head — vibrant, beautiful, and blue. It made her wish she could transform and go for a fly around the city.

But by the time she was halfway through second period, her entire mood flipped around. She felt agitated and tetchy, so much so that her leg was bouncing uncontrollably and it was too hard to bother focusing on the lesson. She wanted to be outside. Being in here was maddening and it was making her feel like she was shut in a cramped box with no way out. Chloe wondered if this was another side effect because she wasn’t normally this fidgety during class. At one point, she had to lay her head down on her desk and try to imagine the walk to school to get her brain to stop fixating on the next moment when she’d get to be outside again.

It wasn’t until Chloe felt a tap on her shoulder that she snapped her head up and realized class was finally over, everyone filtering out of the classroom and chatting about their lunch plans. She rubbed her eyes, looked to her left, and saw Marinette standing by her desk, staring at her worriedly. Chloe instinctively leaned away from her and contemplated quickly slipping out of her seat and putting as much distance between the two of them as possible. But Marinette held up a finger as she dug into her backpack and pulled out a stem of purple, bell shaped flowers.

“Here,” Marinette offered. “You looked like you were losing your mind during class.”

Chloe eyed the flowers suspiciously. “Are you hitting on me or something?”

“No,” Marinette glared. “Just….trust me. Take it. It’ll help. A few whiffs oughta do it.”

It was the first time they’d spoken in weeks, but if Marinette was willing to give Chloe an out by starting a conversation herself, she supposed it was worth it to at least play along. She took the stem of flowers and held them up to her nose, feeling a pleasant shiver run through her body as she inhaled deeply. It was like all of the muscles in her body relaxed and her anxiety from earlier had dissipated as the beautiful fragrance took over her senses.

“Oh my God,” Chloe sighed out. “What is this stuff?”

“Foxgloves,” Marinette laughed. “I checked online, they’re supposed to be really good for attracting bees.”

“Excuse me?”

“Spring is tough,” Marinette sympathized. “It’s hard to be indoors because you just wanna sprint outside and throw yourself in a bed of flowers. Carrying flowers or wearing some floral perfume helps a little bit, but it doesn’t beat the real thing.”

Chloe frowned as she took a few of the flowers and tucked them behind her ear. “Wait, how did you know?”

“I was watching you,” she admitted. “I recognized the signs, I used to get like that right after I got my miraculous too. I figured I’d give you an olive branch and help you out. Or….a foxglove sprig. Same difference.”

Chloe swallowed and finished packing up her books, carefully going along with their tentative camaraderie. “Thanks,” she mumbled. “I’m still trying to figure out how to deal with all this crap. I keep swallowing honey like it’ll kill me if I don’t.”

Marinette snorted. “Yeah, well, I stop just short of hibernating in the winter time. We just have to roll with it.”

“Yeah, lucky us. I’ll just have to walk around with a garden growing out of my bag so that I don’t throw myself out the window for the rest of the school year. No big deal.”

Marinette bit on her lip and balanced on the tips of her toes. “You, uh….have any lunch plans?”

“No. Why?”

“Mind if I show you something? It’s at my house so it’s not far, but it might make you feel better.”

“You’re….inviting me to your house,” Chloe stated as if she were trying to determine if she’d heard her correctly. “You sure about that?”

Marinette winced and looked down at her feet. “I figured….or I hoped that we could also talk for a bit. I mean, you obviously don’t have to, but it’s hard to keep avoiding each other when we literally have to work together almost every day.”

Chloe stayed in her seat and kept her bag hugged close to her chest. “We don’t talk. We never did.”

“That’s not true,” Marinette replied. “We’ve been talking since you got that hair comb. We’re talking right now. Nothing’s exploding.”

“It should be. I’m not just your partner or your friend anymore.”

Marinette opened her mouth and looked like she was about to refute the point, but she swallowed it back when she finally realized that not even her optimism could erase the truth of that statement. Their dynamic was a lot more complicated now and they needed to be up front about that. She remained silent, so Chloe took that as her cue to start making her way towards the door. But Marinette caught her hand before she could leave.

“If you’re not ready to talk we don’t have to,” Marinette promised. “We don’t have to say a word. But….please come over? I have something that’ll work better than one little flower stem. It’ll give you enough relief to last you through the rest of the school day, I promise. I just want to help you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Chloe insisted.

“Please? I’m asking as Ladybug.”

Chloe dipped her head and chuckled. “God, that’s such a low blow.”

Marinette shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

There were a lot of ways Chloe could imagine this going wrong, but she was starting to feel the irritability of being stuck indoors coming back despite the flowers in her hair, so perhaps it was best to defer to an expert on this one. She adjusted the strap of her bag and gestured to the doorway of the classroom. “Alright, bug. I’ll bite.”

As promised, Marinette didn’t try and initiate any sort of conversation as they made their way across the street towards her apartment above the bakery. It wasn’t until they were climbing to the top floor of the four story walk up that Chloe noticed how many flowers Marinette was keeping on her today. They were poking out of her purse and out of her backpack, woven into the bracelets she was wearing, and sewn into the hair clip that was holding all of her hair in a bun on top of her head.

Chloe sort of remembered Marinette having a thing for flowers last Spring, but attributed it to just a strange fashion statement. It wasn’t until now that she recognized it for the coping mechanism that it was. It made Marinette seem like this calming, walking garden that gave Chloe a small shred of peace if she stayed close to it. She sneakily plucked a pink flower from the side pocket of Marinette’s bag and wrapped it around her index finger, bringing it up to her nose and smiling at the immediate satisfaction it brought her.

Marinette brought Chloe up to her bedroom and told her to leave her shoes by the trapdoor while she climbed on top of her bed and pushed open the hatch to her skylight. Chloe gave her an odd stare, but Marinette didn’t seem to notice it as she ushered Chloe out to her balcony. She grumbled complaints under her breath as she squeezed through the hatch and hoisted herself up onto the small balcony, but all of her annoyance flew right out of her mind as she looked around her.

Lining the railings of Marinette’s balcony were dozens of pots, vases, hanging baskets, and glass jam jars filled with with potted flowers that made the space look like a miniature rooftop garden with a marvellous view of the sky stretching over Paris to boot. There were so many flowers and leaves practically spilling out of their containers, wrapping around the handrails, and crawling along the brick of the building that Chloe was overwhelmed by the smell of them all. But it was such a lovely smell, and Chloe felt a smile break out on her face as she closed her eyes, gulped in a huge breath of air, and let the beauty of Marinette’s small garden fill her all the way up to her toes.

She opened her eyes to find Marinette sitting cross legged on an old quilt that she’d laid out in the middle of the floor, presumably so that she could lay out and stare up at all the flowers growing around her. “You like it?” she asked with a grin.

Chloe reached out and brushed her thumb along the petals of a bundle of yellow flowers that were hanging from the railing and tickling her cheek. “How long did this take you?”

“A few weeks,” Marinette said. “I started saving up my babysitting money to get a few flowers. Also made a little deal with the florist next door for some flowers in exchange for free baguettes from the bakery. He helped me do a little research on which were the best ones to get.”

“Best ones?”

“So all the ones on the right over there are cosmos, yarrows, marigolds, and angelicas. Apparently ladybugs really like them. I think there are a few sitting on the petals.”

Chloe crawled closer and indeed saw several ladybugs milling about on the leaves of some of the flowers. “What about the ones on the other side?”

“Uh, more foxgloves, calendulas, crocuses, heliotropes, and some lavender. Those are great for bees actually,” Marinette smiled, watching Chloe reach out and pull a pot of flowers closer to her so that she could see the honeybee hiding in the petals. “I’ve got bees buzzing around here all the time.”

“Why do you have flowers here for attracting bees?”

Marinette shrugged. “I, uh….sort of always meant to invite you to sit here with me. Well, you as in Queen Bee. But I guess it’s easier to show you this now that we know about each other.”

Chloe bit her lip and saw the way Marinette hugged her knees to her chest to make herself look smaller, realizing she’d brought up the taboo topic they promised not to discuss. Chloe was tempted to leave it at that, but something about being outside with all of these flowers made her feel less scared. Or perhaps it was Marinette’s kindness in sharing something like this with her. She wouldn’t have done something like this if she hated Chloe, right? Surely this was something that could be seen as a show of good faith? Proof that there was no disappointment, no anger, no malice.

Chloe jutted her chin towards the blanket. “Can I sit with you?”

“Sure,” Marinette agreed, scooching over to make room for her. “Take this side.”

They both wound up laying on their backs side by side as they stared up at the plants dangling over their heads and twisting around every surface of the balcony. It was like a tiny slice of heaven tucked away in a small corner of the city, and the charm of it all made Chloe brave as she opened her mouth first. “I should’ve been more careful. About the detransformation thing. That was my fault.”

“It’s just as much my fault,” Marinette said, shaking her head. “Accidents happen. Now we just have to be careful to keep it a secret. It’s probably best if Chat Noir and Rena Rouge don’t know.”

“Makes sense,” Chloe said. She folded her hands on her stomach and sighed. “I thought you hated me.”

“Why would I hate you?”

Chloe snorted. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

Marinette relented the point with a short laugh. “Okay. Fair. But I never hated you. I was….confused by you. I wasn’t sure what I did to you to make you hate me so much.”

“I never hated you either. You were grating.”

“How is that different?”

“Because things came easily to you,” Chloe said. “I remember when you first became Ladybug. You caught onto things pretty quick. That’s because you’re a natural at literally everything. And it’s annoying. Because most people have to work at that stuff and you’re just good at it. Good at making friends, good at balancing your life, good at being a superhero. It pissed me off. Still does.”

“And what?” Marinette asked. “You’re not a good superhero?”

Chloe gave her a deadpanned stare. “You’re Ladybug. No one’s as good a superhero as you.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Don’t give me that. You’re a marvelous superhero. You take your job seriously, you care about civilians, and you want to do the right thing. Getting used to your powers isn’t as important as having the heart for the job and you have so much heart. And knowing that it’s you with all of that passion and heart is….really sweet to see. It made me realize that there was more to you than I was letting myself see. Like, maybe you’re not as awful as I thought you were if you’re the same Queen Bee I trust with my life.”

“I mean, how was I not going to put my all into this?” Chloe commented. “I adored you. You were everything I wanted to be and couldn’t figure out how to be. The minute I got a chance to prove myself to you, I practically sprinted for it. I’m still sprinting for it, probably harder than I was before. It messes me up to think of you being angry with me.”

“Me Marinette, or me Ladybug?”

Chloe shrugged. “There isn’t a difference between the two of you anymore.”

Marinette stayed silent for a few moments and then crawled her hand across the blanket until it was covering Chloe’s own. Chloe flinched away from the contact, but was prevented from pulling her hand back when Marinette gripped her fingers in her hand. “Did you know it’s always good luck for someone to have ladybugs and bees in their garden? It’s because they work together to pollinate flowers and keep garden pests away. They make a really great team without even realizing it.” Marinette turned her head to face Chloe and waited until their eyes met. “I knew from the moment you joined us that you and I were going to make a great team. I still think that. Even after knowing what I know. I know things have always been rough between us, but I at least wanted you to know that.”

Chloe’s face softened as she marvelled at the sincerity in Marinette’s eyes. “That means a lot. Seriously.”

“I mean every word,” Marinette promised.

Chloe sighed. “I’m….trying to be better. For you and for everyone else. Getting these powers makes me want to put the work in, and it matters to me a lot. It’s not gonna make up for how much garbage I’ve dished out to you over the years but at least it’s a start. Or that’s what I’m telling myself now.”

Marinette squeezed her hand again and this time Chloe squeezed back, a warmth growing in her cheeks that was due partly to happiness and partly to another feeling whirling in her chest that she didn’t have the words to name. “I appreciate that.”

Chloe grinned and drummed her fingers against her stomach. “You hungry yet?”

Marinette shut her eyes and turned her face to the sun. “Nah, we can stay here for a bit. I want to enjoy the flowers for a bit longer. That okay with you, bee?”

“Whatever you say, bug,” Chloe teased, keeping Marinette’s hand in hers and feeling the air between them clear out for the first time in years.

[television-overload]

Father of the Bride

Chapter 4

(Read on FFN here)

Chapter 4:

By some miracle, Gibbs and Vance had talked the FBI into a joint investigation, which explained why Eli David was currently sitting in NCIS’s conference room and sipping hot coffee.

The door to the room opened, and Fornell entered, followed by Gibbs and Vance.

“Where is my daughter?” Eli asked, noting her absence with slight disappointment.

“Hospital,” Gibbs grunted in response. “With DiNozzo.”

Eli nodded in understanding. After the uncharacteristic display of affection he had witnessed on the jet, it should have been obvious that she would be with him.

“Director, we need to know why Bodnar made an attempt on your life,” Fornell spoke, getting directly to the point.

“I do not know,” Eli replied honestly, “he was like a son to me. I cannot think of why he would want me dead.”

Gibbs set a file on the table in front of Eli, who opened it immediately. “McGee had to do some digging, but he found a plane ticket that you booked for next week,” Gibbs said, pointing with a rigid finger to the evidence on the page. Yes, he had used an alias, but that only made things more suspicious. “Why were you planning a trip to DC?”

Eli sighed. The three American agents waited impatiently for an answer, the seconds passing slowly before Eli finally spoke. “That is classified. My own officers had no knowledge of my plans,” he said, much to Gibbs’ annoyance. “It is sensitive information dealing with international relations,” he added, vehemently insisting that they leave the matter alone.

“We need to know,” Vance said, his face cold and calculating. “Right now, this is the only lead we have. What were you doing planning a secret trip to the United States?”

The piercing stares of Gibbs, Fornell, and Vance eventually got the best of Eli. “Fine. I will tell you, but you must not speak a word about it outside of this room.”

“Agreed,” Vance said shortly, glaring expectantly at the Israeli diplomat.

“I was planning to meet my Iranian counterpart, Arash Kazmi, here to discuss peace between our nations,” he announced.

Vance stood quickly and began to pace the room. “That sounds like a controversial topic, Director,” Fornell observed sarcastically, “You think someone might have wanted to stop it from happening?”

Eli did not appreciate the sarcasm in the slightest. “It is possible, yes. Bodnar was my Deputy Director. Perhaps he did not share my opinion of the Iranians.”

“Did Bodnar have any allies that may be working for him?” Gibbs interrupted. Eli could still be in danger. Just because one man had been taken care of did not mean that the threat was lifted.

Eli shrugged. “I do not know how deep this goes at Mossad, but Bodnar had a brother, Yaniv. He would be the most likely accomplice.”

Gibbs scribbled notes in his notepad as the Director spoke.

“I’ll make some calls to the Iranians, tell them to increase security on Kazmi,” Vance announced. “He could be the next target.”

Eli nodded as Gibbs helped him to his feet, escorting him out of the room.

“Where are we going?” Eli asked as Gibbs pressed the button to call the elevator.

“Hospital visit,” Gibbs answered, “you need to talk to your daughter.”

-.-.-

The car ride was silent. Neither man was known for being very talkative. Besides, tensions were high. Eli was Ziva’s father by birth, yes, but Gibbs was more like her father in every sense of the word, and this was something that both of them knew to be true.

“Do you know why DiNozzo was in Israel?” Eli asked eventually, trying to strike up some form of conversation to break the silence.

“Yes,” Gibbs answered bluntly, which irritated Eli to no end.

“This is usually the part where you tell me what you know,” he explained, maddened by Gibbs’ indirect answers.

“He came to me first,” Gibbs said gruffly, emphasizing the last word. He was the first to know of Tony’s plans with Ziva, NOT Eli.

“And what was your response?” Eli asked, intrigued to hear Ziva’s self-proclaimed second father’s take on the situation. He knew Gibbs had a rule against relationships between coworkers.

“I gave them my blessing,” Gibbs all but shouted in reply. “They deserve it after what they’ve been through, after what you put them through.”

The blame landed squarely on Eli’s shoulders, and they were silent again for the rest of the car ride. Gibbs’ not-so-subtle accusation had not gone unnoticed. Eli had been thinking a lot over the past year about his mistakes and his wrongdoings. In all honesty, he had hoped to put some of those to rest during his trip to DC. Peace between nations was his main focus, yes, but his daughter could not go forgotten. Not anymore.

As the two entered the hospital, they nearly collided with Ziva who was on her way out.

“Abba,” Ziva said, surprised to see him. “I was just on my way to Tony’s apartment. He has requested that I bring a small portion of his movie collection so he won’t get bored,” she spoke with a hint of laughter in her voice, which was a good sign. It meant Tony would be okay.

“Ah yes, I had almost forgotten about DiNozzo’s love for film,” Eli chuckled as he turned and placed an arm around Ziva. “I will accompany you,” he decided, glancing up at Gibbs who nodded in approval.

“Yeah,” Gibbs said shortly, “you go. I’ll stay with DiNozzo.”

If Ziva had wanted to disagree, she didn’t have a chance. Before she knew it, Eli was escorting her out of the building in an unnervingly fatherly fashion.

They drove in relative silence to Tony’s apartment. Every few minutes, Ziva would look over to see a peaceful, almost happy curl to Eli’s lips, the reason for which she wasn’t certain. He was acting strange, and she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it yet. The fact that he had offered to help her do Tony a favor was unfathomable, and yet here they were.

As they stood outside, Eli couldn’t help but notice that the key to the apartment was on Ziva’s own personal key chain. He raised his eyebrows at that, but didn’t say a word. The first step into the apartment confirmed what he thought he might see, and he couldn’t help but let a small smile cross his face. Yes, the place was small and obviously had been a bachelor pad for a while, but his trained eye could spot the objects strewn about the room that were clearly the belongings of a woman.

Ziva made her way to the shelf full of movies and pulled out the list Tony had given her, which told her which ones to bring. She busied herself with placing each one in her bag as Eli helped himself to a tour of the apartment. With his hands in his pockets and a curious expression on his face, he stepped closer to observe Tony’s fish bowl. He watched the little goldfish dart back and forth until a photograph on a nearby shelf caught his eye.

“Where was this picture taken?” he asked Ziva, who seemed to be finishing up on her mission for Tony. She placed one last DVD into the bag before joining her father in front of the shelf.

“Paris,” she said fondly, “three years ago.”

Eli smiled. “It is lovely,” he said, admiring it. “Maybe DiNozzo should have been a photographer.”

Ziva laughed at that, remembering Tony saying something similar on the flight home. “No, I think he is much more suited to be an investigator, Abba.”

Silence fell upon the father and daughter as Eli picked up the framed picture to get a closer look. The seconds dragged on and soon it became apparent that one of them would have to address the elephant in the room. Apparently, that person was Eli.

He placed the frame back onto the shelf and turned to his daughter. “You two are close,” he stated. It was a fact, not a question, and Ziva was shocked by how direct he was being.

“Y-yes,” she answered, not entirely sure where the conversation was headed. “He is my partner, we have each other’s backs.”

“Even closer than that, my Ziva,” Eli corrected in a calm, level-headed manner that unnerved her. She gaped at him, unsure of how to respond. Clearly he knew of their relationship, but the question now was why he seemed so relaxed about it.

In the past he had made his dislike for Tony quite clear. Now, however, he seemed completely fine. Happy, even.

“You know,” Ziva stated.

“Yes,” Eli confirmed with a nod.

Ziva’s brow furrowed. “And you are…okay with this?” she stuttered, searching her father’s face for any sign of dishonesty.

Eli placed his hands on Ziva’s shoulders and gave her a smile, which up until this visit had been almost unheard of. “It seems my initial impression of Agent DiNozzo was incorrect,” he admitted, much to the confusion of Ziva. “He is a courageous, respectful man, and I am grateful to him for saving my life.”

Ziva allowed a smile to cross her face as she nodded in agreement. These were the characteristics of Tony that you saw only if you looked beyond his goofy exterior. The fact that her father could see them now meant the world to her.

“Tony is willing to put everything on the line, if it means saving someone he deems worthy,” Ziva commented, thinking back to her time in Somalia and her subsequent rescue. She had felt anything but worthy of such a favor, but still, Tony had come and dragged her back from the dead. “Which leads me to ask why Tony was with you, and why he would save your life,” Ziva questioned, confusion replacing the pride and love that had taken over her features for a moment.

Eli was quiet for a few seconds, carefully formulating a response. “The purpose of his visit is not for me to disclose,” he answered finally. “But I have seen the type of man he is, and the effect he has had on you, my Ziva. So I want you to know,” Eli paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, “that you have my blessing on your relationship. I see the love you have for each other, and I will do nothing to stop you from being with each other.”

As he finished speaking, Ziva’s eyes began to well up with tears, and she rushed forward for the first proper hug she had given him since she was a young girl. The embrace caught Eli off guard, but he only had to take a moment to process it before wrapping his arms around his only surviving child.

This. This was why he was here. ‘Redemption’ he might say. He savored the moment with Ziva until she pulled away, hoisting the bag full of DVD’s up onto her shoulder and starting toward the door with a small smile on her face.

[regrettablewritings]

The Hairy Situation (Sonny Carisi x Reader)

A/N: *screeches* I … HAVE DONE SOMETHING!!! @mrsrafaelbarba, your hairy chariot (hairiot) awaits … And @xemopeachx and @ohbelieveyoume because everyone has to suffer and remember this costume failure of the follicles. ... This...follicular fashion faux pas. Ahem, anyway, enjoy with much cringe as you recall the two episodes that have gone down in hairy infamy.

Your right eye twitched as you watched Sonny raise his coffee to his lips. It was a habit of yours, appearing whenever you got a little too antsy to properly contain your more invigorated feelings. While Sonny was not necessarily the best with reading the room, he always seemed capable enough whenever it pertained to those in need. Especially when it pertained to you.

You couldn’t tell if he was too lost in his espresso to notice your mood or if he knew exactly what you were feeling and was just trying to play coy and/or annoy you further.  There was a good chance it was the latter, though: You had danced the same routine with him for the past week, and Sonny, in his typical spontaneous nature, had taken to adding his own moves to counter your routine. It was maddening, made even worse by his “Sonnshiny nature,” as you tended to call it.

As he lowered his mug, satisfied with the gulps he’d taken, Sonny glanced up at you just in time to notice your expression changing slightly. Your lips had been midway through a grimace before they rolled into your mouth for your teeth to bite down on. But there was no way for you to hide the expression your eyes held. More specifically, there was no way to pretend as those you hadn’t been intently staring at the area right below his nose.

At that, Sonny’s fingers drew themselves to his upper lip, pulling back to find bits of foam on their tips. He cracked a smile; the one that had given you no choice but to fall in love with him the first time you’d seen it.

“Ha! Lookit that,” he chuckled before pointing to the area above his mouth. “Foam mustache!”

If only either of you were so lucky as for it to still make you swoon.

You’d just barely managed to keep your fist’s collision to the table as soft as it could possibly be without rattling your breakfast plates and cups.

“Foam mustache?” you cried. “Foam friggen mustache!?” Your hands flew into the air as though your frustrations were exiting them like an inflatable tube man at a car dealership. “What the hell about the real one!? What about the – Don’t you give me that look!” You pointed an accusatory finger at the culprit, but it was too late: His blond brows had furrowed over his beautiful, blue eyes, and his mouth turned upward as if to mimic a confused pout.

Regularly, such a gesture would have melted your heart in an instant, causing you to fawn over your puppy-like boyfriend. But that … that abomination above his lip! Its presence practically concealed the cute frown, besmirching it entirely with its obscene presence! It demanded more power to adore than what you were capable of giving.

A groan rippled out of your throat as you flopped back in your seat, defeated.

“Sonny,” you muttered. “Sonny. Baby. Sweetie. Sonnshine. Teddy. Puppy-boo.” Every word was tenser than the last, forming a coil of agitation and desperation. By the time you’d reached the end of your list (and with “Honey-poo,” no less), the coil was fully compressed and your exhausted expression was, once again, planted on him. Or, more specifically, the object of your abhorrence.

“Please,” you whimpered, “please, just shave that thing. I forget what your lips look like!”

At this, the pitiful expression gave way to Sonny rolling his eyes.

“For the last time, (Y/N), I’m not shaving it. This,” he gestured to the facial hair as if it were a work of art, “This is the end result of blood, sweat, tears, and testosterone. This is a wearable symbol of status!”

Your eye lids drooped with aloofness. “ ‘Status’?” you echoed. “The only status having that mustache gives you is looking like Douche Prime.”

“Hey, now,” the man gently admonished. “Firefighters get mustaches like this all the time, and you never say a word about them!”

“Yeah, well, I’m not dating a firefighter wearing a schnauzer tail on his face. Nor am I kissing one, feeling his mustache-induced burn when he kisses me, feeling it scratch against my shoulder in the dead of night, causing me to think that Death’s spooky-ass hand is trying to tickle me – ”

“I get it, I get it.”

“Do you? Really? Then shave it!”

“No!”

“Why not!?”

“We’ve been over this, (Y/N), it makes me look cool!”

“It makes you look like you took the brush off of a vacuum nozzle and glued it to your lip.”

“Whatever,” Sonny scoffed, taking one last swig from his mug. “Gotta go, we won’t finish this later.” He pushed himself out of his chair, pulling his jacket off the back of it and putting his arms through the sleeves.

“But – ” you protested. You were quickly stopped by the prickly goodbye kiss that your boyfriend pressed against your forehead.

“Have a good day, sweetie,” he murmured, offering you one last smile before heading out the door. Loving as he was, he didn’t want to stick around for the fussing he’d likely get for touching you with the object of your burning hatred. Even if it was pretty funny to see you stumble over your words. In the end, however, no such fuss came. You were just too tired.

Instead, you sat at the table alone. Your body, uncertain as to whether a frontwards flop or a backwards flop was the appropriate position for defeat, slouched somewhat to the side. Your mind, however, was abuzz with thought. You loved Sonny’s kisses, they were always just so soft and sweet with the very essence of his affections for you coming through every one he applied. Unfortunately, with the presence of that hairy smear above his top lip, his kisses were less soft. And the feeling of affection didn’t seem as concentrated, apparently having been caught up in the bushy hairs. Not at all unlike how the brushes of a vacuum sweep up and cling to dirt.

You thought that your Sonny was the cutest boyfriend in all of New York, possibly even in all of the country. But then, of course you did: every person with a boyfriend thought that theirs was the absolute cutest. The only difference between you and them was that you were confident that you were the closest to being correct.

And, indeed, Sonny was quite adorable. A Labrador who gained human form and decided to get a job in law enforcement. Sure, he was notorious for being a blunt blabbermouth who wasn’t too good with words, but that was for those who didn’t know him. If the right amount of time was spent around him, warming up in some way would be inevitable – he was just so darn endearing! That being said, it was all too easy for you to become a little overprotective towards him in some regards pertaining to his profession.

You had openly voiced your concerns upon his announcement that he’d offered to go undercover for Brooklyn’s sting operation as a john. He’d only just gotten into the precinct about a week prior and he was already putting his narrow ass in danger? What, did he want to get out this relationship that badly?

Of course he didn’t, he just really liked to help. (Sonny also really liked doing UC work. If his heart weren’t in the legal system, it could have potentially found a home in the performing arts.) He kept insisting in the weeks leading up to the operation that everything would be fine and that he would be safe but nothing he said managed to convince you entirely, and you just weren’t the sort of woman to go overly-invested-high-school-mother and march down to the precinct demanding that he either be guarded 24/7 by an undercover The Rock, or that he be removed from the case entirely and put on desk duty. Therefore, Sonny stayed as an undercover pervert.

And, as he promised, things went pretty alright, so long as “alright” just meant that he came out alive and unflappable. But now, with that problem out of the way, there lay your next biggest concern: The mustache.

Sonny had already been growing some facial stubble by the time he got transferred from Staten Island; a side effect of working long nights and under such a short period of time. He’d simply become too tired to really care about whether or not he was clean-shaven, something that you were completely understanding of. By the time of the Brooklyn operation, however, Sonny had gotten into a better swing of things, and the mustache practically in full-bloom. By then, Sonny had insisted that it would only sell the image of being a john further, having seen facial hair as a common trait amongst the sleazier end of the scale and how, generally speaking, it simply sold a better image than if he looked baby-faced.

You had to admit that he had a bit of a point there. Understanding of his reasoning, you went along with it.

In truth, you couldn’t wait for him to shave that thing off using a lawnmower but, then again, it wasn’t just a regular gross mustache – it was a working ‘stache. A ‘stache with a purpose. You supposed you could tolerate just a bit longer.

But then the sting came and went. And the mustache only stayed. It had been nearly a month.

Apparently, some guys down at the station also had mustaches. Guys who had a decent reputation as highly capable law enforcers. This, added with the uncountable number of other mustachioed officers, gave Sonny new consideration over his newest feature. The consideration being that there was no longer anything to consider: He was keeping the thing. And no amount of jokes, pleads, nags, etc could convince him otherwise.

You knew this because you had tried. In between paperwork and editing at your own job and almost always during your lunch breaks, you could be found at your desk or at the nearby café trying to concoct a plan to exorcize the little hair demon residing on your boyfriend’s face.

But after about a month and a few days of near-constant pestering, you were running out of options. You almost considered asking your coworker for some input, but God forbid you get gossipy Nora involved. You tried not to resort to such juvenile means. Tried very hard to avoid stoop. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and the desire to take a nap without the fear of being woken up by having a mini broom scraped against your face was bending your morals a bit.

Time to make light use of one of the most problematic, overly romanticized concepts known to relationship-kind: jealousy. Sonny was, by his own admission, potentially sensitive. Certainly moody, if anything. He wasn’t necessarily the jealous type, however, trusting you enough to not blink an eye at the mention or presence of your guy friends or celebrity crushes. But if you played certain cards right, then maybe … Just maybe …

Elsewhere, Sonny’s phone vibrated against his desk. It signaled a message from you. And in that elsewhere, he would find that your message contained an image of Ezra Miller, circa 2010, with his clean-shaven pretty boy face gracing the screen. Not even five seconds after having received the picture, Sonny would then have received an actual text:

“He’s cute! 😚” you wrote. Not as cute as your Sonny, of course, but Sonny didn’t need to know that, you decided smugly. Keep it short and simple so that it wasn’t too obvious what your intentions were, and let it all unfold naturally. Placing your phone back down to your desk, you complacently returned back to editing the latest presentation script.

You phone buzzed. The word bubble on the left side of your screen read, “Shouldn’t you be working??” Your smirk deepened. He was avoiding the question.

Your fingers rapidly typed against the appropriate keys, writing out, “I am … But I can’t help but also get distracted by this little guy. Lookithimlookithimlookithim!!” You scrolled through your photo app to find the pre-saved photos of babyface Ezra for this very tactic before adding three of them to your message. You felt a feeling of satisfaction dwell within you as you hit “send.”

Brrrrbbb, your phone hummed, causing you to pick it up and analyze the growing situation.

“Yeah, but you know who else is ‘cute’? That one guy from Daredevil.”

Your brows knitted a centimeter’s worth of perplexity.

“Charlie Cox?” you texted back. A little less than a minute later, your phone hummed.

“Yeah, him! Y’know, he’s actually not that clean-shaven in real life.” What the – ? Where was he going with this? The low woosh of a second text coming in sounded. “He’s actually a hairy guy. Shoulda been called Hairdevil if you ask me :P”

You sat there, staring at the text. Your lips were pressed together, unimpressed. The sly bastard had managed to not only play a proper piece to your game, but he also found a way to throw in a goddang pun while doing so! But, on top of that, damn: He got you there, pointing out Charlie Cox’s regularly hirsute appearance. But only for a moment, at least. Early-2010s Ezra Miller wasn’t the only brand of ammo you had in your magazine.

“Tru,” you admitted. “But dang, if that mouth of his ain’t practically obscene when he’s playing Matt. All noticeable and kissable without any distractions …”

Sonny’s response: “I’d say he looks friendlier with the hair. More lovable and protective.”

You rolled your eyes and fought the urge to send a corresponding emoji in response. Instead, you thought for a moment. You concluded that it was time to switch bullet-types. “Evan Peters is also cute, tho 😗.”

“Fox’s Quicksilver? Idk I think the guy from AoU was a tad cooler.” Translation: The guy who’s actually capable of growing facial hair and has a noted mustache was cooler than the baby-faced guy. But you weren’t giving up yet!

Phantom-Era Ramin Karimloo.

Jeffrey Dean Morgan.

Taron Egerton.

Idris Elba.

Daniel Henney.

Tom Hardy.

Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson!

Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson with facial hair!

It went on like this, and for longer than what you would have liked. Both because you didn’t appreciate your plan for coming so undone, but also because lord, there was an uncomfortable amount of actors who managed to work their mustaches. Worse was that more often than not, the actors you would name or could name were made even sexier with the addition of facial hair combinations. Styles which, more often than not, included a mustache of some breed.

This caused you to have a relatively short list to begin with. You struggled to search through what already few men you had left in your artillery before finding your next best bet.

“Jon Bernthal has a clean-shaven ruggedness to him, I find 😊,” you finally wrote. You had tried to sound innocuous about it but the image you attached of Jon in his role as the bloodied and bruised Frank Castle decently captured how you were really feeling. You had to fight the urge to slam your phone down, knowing that it would’ve been pointless to get so frustrated over something so laughably bizarre. But dammit, you hated how you were losing at the very game you had initiated! And besides, your magazine was running low. As it turns out, facial hair tended to make a lot of men even more attractive than usual. Especially if they had that beard and mustache combo going on. But God forbid Sonny learn this and take it as an “okay” to go and grow a beard …

Two minutes had gone by and still no response. You were beginning to question if an inward celebration was appropriate to plan for. Sonny had replied almost immediately to the previous messages, and right about now should’ve been his lunch break. Maybe . . . you had finally won? Did you finally manage to make a mustachioed disaster-oed man rethink his life decisions that had led up to this point?

It was about three minutes after you had first sent your text that your cellular device began to hum with life.

“You know that? You’re right. I’m sorry, baby: This mustache is a smear upon our otherwise wonderful relationship and I deeply apologize for letting it come between us, both physically and metaphorically. In fact, I will be taking the rest of the day off to not only shave it, but seek out a laser hair removal specialist to assure that no such abomination can ever stand a chance at rebirthing bigger and bushier than ever. I love you so much and plan on returning home with a fresh, clean face, your favorite meal from your favorite takeout place, and a strong desire to watch Lucifer, even though I’m still not entirely sure where I stand with a show where the Devil is portrayed as a gorgeous, well-meaning and emotional pianist. Love you 😘 💛 💙 💜 💚.”

That would have been the ideal message to receive, especially after experiencing a time gap that had lasted longer than all the other ones. But alas, life was not ideal. Even with Sonny. Especially with a stubborn, mustachioed Sonny.

“Weren’t you just drooling over his character in Me & Earl & the Dying Girl the other night?” Sonny reminded.

Shit!

That stupidly hot history teacher with the sweet ink and well-groomed beard-and-mustache look! Jon Bernthal was already an attractive man without facial hair but … there was just something so sexually blissful about that man whenever he grew that beard and mustache. So suave and tough, a style that so few men could properly do with such dangerous class. Like he could kick somebody’s ass with one hand and present you with a cup of your favorite pho in the other. But … but Sonny sure as hell couldn’t pull that kind of thing off! How dare he overstep his boundaries and lowkey threaten to attempt for Mr. McCarthy’s Cool Teacher™ trimmings?

Your fingers flew over the keys of your phone with frustration in every stroke, delivering the message, “No! I was appreciating his character’s, well, character!! He was barely in the thing but still left an impact, okay!?!”

“lol whatever you say babe :P,” Sonny responded.

Boy, did you suddenly long for the days of flip phones, when you could signify your exasperation and/or anger by dramatically slapping your predominate mode of communication shut at the end of your conversations. There was just something so unsatisfactory about angrily pressing the off button on your phone, then gingerly placing it face down at last minute so as to preserve the already chipped glass of the touch screen. After which, the spirit of victory evacuated your body at such a break-neck speed that you nearly slammed your face against your desk in defeat. You were going to have to come up with a new plan …

Speaking of which … You looked at that had been sitting on your screen since earlier. It required further proofing from your end but at this rate, it wasn’t getting anything closer to done. You took that (and your increasing hangry-ness) as an opportunity to clock out for lunch. Better to have that excuse, instead of insisting to your waiting associate that work had been delayed for the sake of trying to remove a facial vandalism that wasn’t even yours.

It had been two weeks since the little hairy competition between Sonny and yourself. Two weeks of recycling old ideas over and over, albeit with waning intensity. But finally, finally did you have a plan! A plan that involved tape, Google searches, and plenty of hours on Photoshop.

The latter requirement was a part of why you had lost so much time on the nagging. You had actually forced yourself to cut back on verbally scolding Sonny about the thing out of the sheer bitterness that you would feel if he finally gave in before your self-assignment was complete, rendering your Photoshop exploits useless. But after so many hours of working when Sonny was out of the house or nights when he was home and sleeping, you had finally finished it! Now, all you needed was Sonny.

Well, that, and the ability to keep a straight face. To be fair, you thought you’d had that part down to a science: You just needed to bite your bottom lip and inhale deeply and any fizzle of a giggle dwelling in your throat would start to dwindle. But the moment you heard Sonny’s key click into the lock of the apartment, you made a break for it, practically sprinting into the bedroom in the back so that he couldn’t witness your dismantling.

You’d just barely made it through to the sound-stifling mattress when you heard Sonny announcing his return home, followed by the door being shut and locked. With the sound of your boyfriend kicking off his shoes, the clock had begun. Every footstep he took further into the apartment was the tick of time going by until he realized that something was amiss. And then – they stopped. Dead in his tracks, likely right by the kitchen if you had to approximate it based on the echoes of his feet as they walked him backwards a few paces.

The oxymoronically quiet but blaring utterance of, “What the …?” proved your approximation to be correct. The next few steps that gently thudded against the hardwood flooring seemed to become increasingly sporadic, if not weighted by the sudden stops every other step. It wasn’t even an entire minute before you heard Sonny calling your name.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)!” The footfalls moved with purpose towards your poorly-planned hiding place of complete visibility on the bed. You barely had any time to scramble up, grab a book from the nightstand on your side, and create the image of composure by the time Sonny stopped at the threshold.

You could only afford to offer him the briefest of glances, lest you break down into plot-killing laughter, and even that was more than enough! With that brow-furrowed expression on his face and severed chipmunk tail above it lip, it looked as though all the hair on his face was preparing to mug his eyes.

Calm, you told yourself. Bite the lip; inhale deeply …

“Hey, babe,” you greeted, turning a page you hadn’t even read yet. “How was work?” Sonny’s eyes squinted incredulously. Instead of recounting how “the boys” gave him their usual tough love, he pulled a photo into view.

“What is this?” he asked rhetorically. You offered one last glance, this time focusing in the general direction of the picture to give the illusion of looking exactly at it. From your peripheral vision, you could recognize the frame: Thick, black, and simple, it usually sat on the table right by the front door, encasing the image of one lanky, teenaged Sonny standing beside his first car. A rusty, blue jalopy, but he couldn’t have been prouder of owning that jalopy. But now, as the fully-grown Sonny held it, the frame held a different image.

It was still of Sonny, no doubt, but it was an adult Sonny. An adult Sonny with hair whose length teased just above his jean jacket-clad shoulders. Well, somebody’s jean jacket-clad shoulders. The tight, high-waisted jeans literally hugging the lower body area left very little to the imagination and stood out glaringly against the pale yellow of the souped up Ford Maverick his figure was coolly leaning against. Well, stood out the best that it could at least. The grainy filter that the image had been saturated in made everything slightly more sepia but all the more of an eye sore. There were only two things that remained true to the real life Carisi: His face and the goddang mustache. And frankly, the bushy facial hair seemed to fit right in far more than his face.

Your eyes flew back to the pages of your book, focusing on brown imperfections from wood pulp to mute any laughing threat you had.

“It’s a photo, Sonny,” you replied coolly. You needn’t look up to know that he was lightly glaring at you.

“I can see that,” he replied dryly. “But what I mean is what – ? What exactly is going on in this photo?”

“I’m afraid that I don’t know what you mean, hun.”

“You mind lookin’ me in the eye and sayin’ that?” Indeed, you did, but there was no way you could tell him that and win. Though you had a sinking feeling that the slow movements made to lift your head up and zero in on his baby blues told him enough.

Bite your lip. Breathe.

“I am afraid,” you spoke slowly, “that I don’t see what the problem is.”

“Seriously?” Sonny scoffed, pointing a finger at the edited image of himself. “You seriously see nothing wrong with this?”

“I do not,” you stated.

“I look like my father in this!”

“Well, maybe that’s where your mustache belongs: On some guy who lived through the jean-clad 70s!”

“Then why was a cutout of it taped to that thrift shop painting!?”

“Maybe the 70s version of you wanted to show how psychedelic he was leaning against a giant bowl of fruit!” you cried, throwing your hands up into the air. And with your attempt at aloofness went your guard: The laughter followed almost immediately. Well, your laughter; Sonny remained standing at the threshold, just staring at the frame in his hands before looking at your guffawing form curl up against the mattress.

“How long did this take you to even do?” he asked above your laughs. You only managed to whimper breathlessly the amount of time as you squeezed your aching gut but Sonny had heard plenty. You didn’t see him lick his lips and nod along to your answer. But you did hear the click of his phone’s camera as he snapped a picture of the edited image.

“W-what are you doing?” you wheezed, looking up at him. Sonny shrugged.

“Takin’ a photo. My mom would love this, she’d say it looks like my dad, too.” He then turned around, leaving you confused and no longer laughing. The silence was soon filled with yet another click.

“Hey …” you whined, climbing off the bed. When you found Sonny he was only a few paces away, taking a photo of that thrift store painting of a bowl of fruit. Specifically, the cutout of his edited image you’d taped on to an apple in said painting. By the time words had found you, he was already moving on to another picture – one where you’d pasted his mustached mug over a photo of your chubby baby cousin.

“What’re you doing?” you repeated. With a smile present on his features, Sonny, only glanced at you before returning focus back to his camera.

“I told you: Takin’ pictures for my mom. She loves stuff like this!” Click. You blinked rapidly.

“Uh … Sonny?” you began. “This … I mean, I was sorta hoping – ”

“That this’d influence what I’d do with my mustache? No; sorry, princess. But,” his grin widened as he scrolled through his newest photo file additions, “I do have to commend the creativity.” He looked up at you. “I love that this is what you went with!” You were too stunned to deny the scruffy kiss he affectionately pressed to your nose. By the time the feeling registered, your face was curling into one of anguish.

“It wasn’t supposed to be funny, Sonny!” you cried.

“No,” he agreed, “but it is.”

You had to fight internally against the urge to slap your own face off.

“Take this seriously! Don’t you see what that mustache is making you?! You look like somebody’s weird uncle who never let the 70s go and gave them their first sip of beer because ‘they were the cool one’!”

“That’s oddly specific.”

“With a porno stache!”

“Hey …!”

“But am I wrong?! No! Please, please, please get rid of that thing before it compels you to start investing in tie dye ties and jackets with fringe!” You groaned as you pressed your hand against your face.

“Just … please, baby,” you whimpered behind your palms, walking closer toward him. Your hands then found new purchase on his shoulders as you looked up to him, giving him the most pitiful puppy pout you could offer with a twitching eyebrow. “Don’t let my hours on Photoshop go to waste.” From the silence and way that he’d tucked his lips in, you half-heartedly hoped that maybe this had gotten the point across. His poor long-suffering girlfriend, at the end of her rope …

“Okay, okay, it won’t,” he gave in. You gasped quietly.

“Really?” you asked. Your query was dripping with optimism as cocked your head. You could feel your heart practically bubbling with joy as Sonny nodded.

“Yeah …” He placed a hand on one of your own and gave it a gentle squeeze. “… Because the boys down at the station are gonna love this. Can’t wait to show ‘em!” In that moment, everything plummeted with an unceremonious flop: Your glimmer of hope, your heart, and your entire body as you fell to your knees in defeat. You couldn’t even release a dramatic, long, “no” to complement your collapse. Too bad; would’ve been nice to use that to drown out the sound of Sonny enthusiastically ringing his mom to tell her about the interesting welcome home he’d received.

It was amazing how much could change with time, how fleeting it could feel under the right circumstances.

For Sonny, all of it flew by so quickly: In the span of only a few weeks, he’d been transferred from Brooklyn to Queens. And after only a week, Queens had passed him off to Manhattan’s Special Victims Unit. And where Sonny went, so did that mustache, now a few months old. And as much as you wanted to continue openly stewing and scheming about it, time had a way of casting events that could change one’s mindset.

The implications of Sonny’s transfers leave much to be double-guessed and while Sonny seemed to be taking the frequent pass-offs in stride, a part of you couldn’t help but worry for him. Sonny was a bit of an acquired taste and unfortunately, not many in his line of work seemed to have the palate for him. As his loving girl, it sort of became like a duty to assure that when he came home, there was an air of comfort and understanding to greet him. Particularly when his recounting of his first day suggested that he wasn’t exactly candidate for teacher’s pet.

You gave him all that you could, including massages, kisses, cuddles, extra nuzzles as he slept. But, most notably, you cut back on the mustache reproaching to the point of it becoming dormant. Oh, certainly, you inwardly groused about the way corn nibblets would stick to it during dinner, or how it prickled your skin even when you were the one directing the lip to lip kisses. But nary a word was spoken that admitted to such (though you had a feeling that Sonny had an idea of it). You almost could’ve sworn that you had begun to sink into a pit of bitter acceptance as the days went by. After all, there was only so much kissing and cuddling one could do because they just became numb to that face-bristle …

Thank God that turned out to not be the case. The moment Sonny indicated that he might’ve found a home in the Manhattan SVU was the moment the cobweb-covered cogs in your Plotting Department began whirring back to life. Unfortunately, with all the time that had passed (and the schemes used before), there was only so much you could still use.

It was as you left work one evening and decided to stop by a McDonald’s for a drink that an idea dawned upon you …

Sonny was hungry more than he was tired that day. All the running around and sudden calls for leads on the current investigation ultimately left little time for him to truly relish his lunch break and only burn off more energy. By the end of his shift, all he wanted to do was go home and relax. Besides, today was your day to cook and he couldn’t wait to see what you had in store.

But as he walked through the door and called out to say that he was home, he realized something: No smells, no sounds. Not of the timer ticking as the oven warmed a casserole, not of the stove sizzling a greased skillet, and not even the humming of the microwave. There wasn’t even the smell of hot takeout wafting in the air.

He glanced back down at the tile flooring of the walk-in area. Your shoes were there, so there was no chance that you were running behind. And the entire point of the whole “I cook this day, you cook that day” compromise was exactly that: a compromise, something to be upheld on both ends! Something was amiss.

With cautious steps, Sonny walked further into the apartment.

“Honey?” he called out. He glanced in every direction until – His eyes narrowed as his brows creased. Did … Did he just see movement from the kitchen? He ventured closer. And sure enough, there you were, elbows on the table, fingers laced, expression completely nonchalant as if there weren’t a bunch of McDonald’s cups taking up a good portion of the little nook.

You didn’t even give him a chance to ask what the hell was going on before you greeted him with a calm, “Hello, Sonnford. I’ve been expecting you.”

Sonny pursed his lips as his eyes flickered from McDonald’s cup to McDonald’s cup. He counted eight.

“Uuuhhh …” he managed. He waved a finger to point at the general group of cups. “What … is all this exactly?” He almost wanted to regret asking you that, given the smirk you now wore.

“I’m so glad you asked,” you purred. Slamming your hands on the table, you nearly knocked your chair over as you jumped out of your seat to cry out, “Dominick Nathaniel Carisi!” Now it was your turn to point a finger at him.

“That’s not my middle name and you know it – ”

“I challenge you to a . . . to a wager!” If he weren’t so hungry, Sonny would’ve found the evil grin you were attempting to be cute… . Ah, hell: It was still a bit cute, if not worrisome. He inhaled deeply as he began to rub his eyes with.

“Okay, okay … So I’m guessin’ that the wager has something to do with these …?”

“Milkshakes,” you finished wickedly. “Courtesy of our good friend, Ronald D. McDonald.” This prompted a piteous groan from your would-be opponent as he lulled his head back and squeezed his eyes shut.

“You couldn’t have just gotten some burgers while you were there? Not even some fries!?” he whined.

“Hush, take this seriously,” you glowered. “Anyway!” (You regained composure) “Here’s the deal: We have, as you can see, eight milkshakes – four for you, four for me. Whoever drinks the most or all of them in the shortest amount of time wins. So! If you win, I’ll accept our pet gorilla thumb as a part of our imploding family. But if I win …” You made a grin that would make any mustache-twirling villain proud. “If I win, that keratin hellspace taking residency on that mug of yours has to go.” You paused for thought. “And you can never grow another one. Capiche?”

The pitiful look on Sonny’s face was still quite present as he pouted at you. But, as always, the usual attempt for sympathy was ruined by that hairy food trap that led you down this road of insanity. You would not be swayed any longer. And judging by the heavy sigh of defeat, Sonny knew this.

“I don’t suppose there’s any dinner to eat before this, huh?” he asked, daring to hope.

“Nope,” you confirmed, popping the ‘p.’ “Just you, me, and these milkshakes: The thick, mortal enemy of mustaches.”

“If I agree to this, can I order a pizza or something?”

“Do whatever you like, you’re still gonna do this.”

“…” The things people do for love. That, and at this point it became evident that there was no way out of your little harebrained scheme. Besides, he supposed, something in the stomach was better than nothing. Or waiting nearly an hour for anything. Might as well. Dropping his briefcase to the floor, he trudged up to the seat across from you, prompting your smile of victory.

“Glad you could join us, Sonnspot,” you teased. Sonny rolled his eyes. When he became adjusted enough, you straightened your posture. “Ready?”

Sonny grunted. Good enough.

“Good!” you chirped. “On your mark!” You leaned yourself in closer to the table. “Get set!” Sonny readied his hand to grab the milkshake cup closest to him. You inhaled. “G – ”

“ – ooooohhh …” you whimpered against the table. As you rubbed a hand over your aching stomach, a hiccup rattled your body. Not enough to cause nausea, but just enough for you to cringe from the additional discomfort it had created. Needless to say, the wager was a bust. A huge bust. Part of you wished you had the ability to go back in time and throw a milkshake at your past self for even coming up with the idea. Of course, this was an impossibility: Not only because of the issues arising from quantum mechanics and theories, but also because there were no milkshakes to spare.

You could hear the sound of a straw slurping up the last of its cup’s contents, creating a death rattle. This was then followed by the sound of its producer expelling a sigh of relieved refreshment. This was the sound of a happy Sonny Carisi. One who, while maybe not fed a proper meal, was just glad to have something in his system after a long day of work. Well, five and a half somethings.

You’d only made it through two and a half milkshakes before your body betrayed you and made you throw in the towel. Sonny was all too happy to take the remaining treats off of your hands. Apparently, milkshakes stood a chance with this barber-dodging buffoon. You maneuvered your head just enough to glare at him. How could you be so foolish as to challenge a man from an Italian family to an eating competition? He’d grown up eating copious amounts of food – heavier, in fact! It was that damn, skinny physique of his that threw you for so many curveballs. You meant to glare even harder at him but then failed when another pang of pain bubbled in your gut.

The grunt of discomfort managed to take Sonny out of his state of satisfactory and shoot you a worried look.

“Oh, you really don’t look so good,” he stated bluntly. You narrowed your eyes weakly and huffed as hard as you could without making your stomach quiver.

“No shit,” you said through clenched teeth.

“You oughta go lie down,” he instructed.

“Ugh,” you groaned, but found yourself too uncomfortable to be difficult. You’d barely managed to push your body upwards when you felt your boyfriend already by your side.

As he gingerly took your hands and tried to hold you up, he uttered, “Why don’t you go lay down in bed, huh? I’ll get you some Pepto or something and a heating pad.” To his surprise, you still didn’t offer a fight. Instead, you sighed, hanging your head as you barely nodded it. You were in no state to make an argument of any kind.

After all, you’d lost the wager.

You’d been stuck in the fetal position for what felt like hours. Not only to further press the heating pad against your throbbing tummy, but also because it was the best position to deliver the notion that you were hanging your head in shame. Not that Sonny seemed to notice, of course. But then, did you really want him to?

Truth be told, you weren’t sure. All that you did know was that you felt awful and in more than just a physical way. It wasn’t even really about the fact that you’d lost. It was more so about the fact that you’d lost a competition that was meant to boss your loved one around, make him change something, and that he still treated you fine anyway. For God’s sake, the man came home tired and hungry, the last thing he probably wanted was to have his seemingly loving girlfriend demand that he chug four milkshakes for the right to keep a mustache of all things! And yet, he cooperated anyway. Not only that, but he didn’t brag or anything; he just took one look at you and immediately went to work taking care of you. Basically, Sonny was just being a good boyfriend.

But if that was the case, then what the heck were you? You’d been spending the last two hours wondering this as you lay in bed, trying to soothe away the pain that you’d caused yourself. And so far, the only conclusions you could come up with were bad ones: You were the type of girlfriend who’d try to flood her boyfriend with facial hairless actors to invoke jealousy; edited images of her boyfriend as a 70s porno stache-wearing uncle then plastered them everywhere; and then went out to buy a bunch of milkshakes for a wager that she couldn’t even win when she could’ve been spending that time or money holding up her end of the every-other-day compromise. And all over some mustache!

You couldn’t even hold back your criticisms of it unless it was out of pity. You were just so wrapped up in the superficial looks of your beau that you barely acknowledged his consistent kindness and humor towards you as anything other than a nuisance whenever they foiled your plans.

What a horrid girlfriend!

You would have curled further into yourself if it was possible. Maybe … Maybe you really were the one in the wrong for not accepting that unshaven bushy blunder. It was at this moment that the bedroom door creaked open quietly before closing just as gently, alerting you of the man of the hour’s arrival. By now, it was probably time for him to turn in. You felt bad; he was going to bed filled with milkshakes instead of a nice, healthy meal. You didn’t dare look at him, ashamed. He said nothing as he walked over to his side of the bed, nor as he caused the mattress to dip. He was probably unsure of what to say; maybe didn’t even feel that it was his job to say anything. Fair enough.

But you just couldn’t think of the right words to say. And so you remained quiet, even as he leaned over to you and placed a kiss against your cheek.

…

Wait.

Your eyes nearly bulged in their sockets as the sensation of the kiss dwelled and burrowed into your skin. It was soft. It was smooth. It was … hairless?

Your brain wasn’t fast enough in its efforts to stop your body from making the sudden movements of unfurling and flipping to your side to face him. But for the split second that you could observe him before the milkshakes inside hit the walls of your stomach, your suspicions were proven correct.

There he was. Your Sonny: Freshly showered and, most importantly, freshly shaven. And now, due to your jolting, newly startled.

“Whoa,” he said, placing a hand on your waist. “Easy there! I’m glad you’re finally moving after all this time but remember to take it ea – ”

“Your upper lip!” you exclaimed. “It’s still there!” Your fingers flew up to press against the hairless flesh. Smooth as a baby.

Sonny offered a gentle chuckle. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

Man alive, you never knew it’d be possible to be in love with such a physical feature. But you supposed that absence made the heart grow fonder in some respects. And yet, in your enthusiasm, you had to ask …

“But … why?” you inquired. Sonny raised his brows in question. “Why’d you shave it? Why now, after all that time I spent pestering you about it?”

“Oh,” he hummed. He sighed through his nose, the hot air hitting your fingertips. “Well … If I may say so, I was honestly getting a bit worried about you.” Now came your turn to expression confusion.

“Worried? Why? I was the one making a jackass out of herself over an upper lip toupee. If anything, I should be apologizing to you: I was over here, doing all kinds of things to make you change something you liked and all you ever did was go along with it like it was nothing.”

Sonny winced. “Yeah, but that’s because they were all nothing. I mean, until now. At first, it was cute stuff. Simple stuff,” he elaborated. “Things like trying to make me jealous or pointing out funny stuff – like kinda thing doesn’t really bother me. But milkshake-drinking competitions? You were making yourself sick. I know it was a small start but I didn’t want it to progress, so …” He shrugged.

“So…you got rid of it so I wouldn’t hurt myself?” you finished.

“Yup.”

“… That was all I had to do!?”

“Don’t take this lightly, (Y/N), you had me worried that you were gonna hurl!”

“ ‘Gonna’? I’m still very much at risk for that, thank you very much.”

“Awwww,” he cooed, offering you that pout of his. It was the first time in ages that it had some sort of hold on you. “You want a tummy rub?” At this offer, you lit up. Well, as much as your sickly state would allow.

“Yes, please,” you cheered. As you felt a familiar hand replace the heating pad and gently rub the pain away in circles, you decided to use one last act of selfishness in regards to this whole mustache fiasco. Something to indulge un after having been so long without them.

“Um, Sonny?” you whispered.

“Yes, doll?” Sonny whispered back.

You pressed your fingertips together as you stumbled over your already sheepish words. “Would you … I mean, if it’s not too much to ask – ”

“Tummy kisses?”

“… Yes, please.”

“Will do.”

Epilogue:

For the way that the evening had started off, you were quite pleased with how it was winding down: With your boyfriend, baby-faced once more, rubbing and kissing the pain away from your upset stomach, the bristles of his untamed shrew of a mustache no longer there to keep you from requesting such. At this point, you were practically purring like a kitten. What a great way to end the day … Speaking of which:

“Before I forget: how was work, babe?” you yawned.

“Hm? Oh …” Sonny thought. “Well … Rollins – that tough blonde? – she went and suggested I do all the UC work whenever they need a john. She said that – ” He stopped. “I mean, she said that I do a good job at it.” As much as you were enjoying the tummy rubs and kisses that he was so artfully applying, that sudden pause had you hooked.

“Mmmm. I doubt that, Sonny. You never know when to stop talking, so what was with that pause?”

“Nothing,” he insisted.

“Sonny,” you said, pushing yourself up just enough to peer down at him. “Are you really going to lie to your sickly girlfriend?” Honestly, with how long he remained quiet for, there was a possibility that he intended to. But the defeated exhale eventually told you otherwise.

“Okay, okay,” he gave in. “The reality was … Rollins was tellin’ me I should always be the john for UC work because my mustache really sold the image of ‘sleaze bag.’”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. You didn’t want to make fun of him, judging from the tone he’d delivered that sentence in, but also you just plain didn’t want to further provoke the stomachache that was ebbing away at his touch.

“Oh?” you coughed gently. “I thought that that was why you’d grown that thing in the first place.”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged one shoulder. “But after a while, I just thought it made me look cool; like one of the boys.”

“Uh-uh,” you said. “So basically, what I’m getting at is that you didn’t just shave your mustache for me, but initially because some big kid at the playground bullied you.” The tummy rubs stopped. You glanced down once more to see Sonny pursing his lips as his eyes looked elsewhere.

“I … wouldn’t put it that way, but – ”

“Save it,” you sighed before flopping back against the pillows. “You now owe me a tummy kiss and rub for every darn, dirty kiss you ever gave me while you had that food trap hanging over your mouth.”

“Yes, ma’am.”