#and heel turned her pitch so hard it was great

[lethalhoopla]

went to a crafts show this afternoon and among some great art booths was this artist selling... carved(?) mineral/stone figures. some were little animals, but then there was the Jade Wizard Owl (where's 200 money when you need it), and mixed mineral dragon heads.... and there were also rose quartz Darth Vaders and an onyx Hello Kitty and a jasper Psyduck.

impeccable vibes, in other words.

but i think the best part was the stall runner/artist herself, because she was oscillating with fantastic frequency between pitching the little guys based on Qualities Of Crystals ("oooh, good eye, rose quartz is great for [insert apparent vibes here]!") and hawking her wares based off of Oh Man You Would Love This Weird Lil Guy ("did you see the skull over there, with the snake? and I've got a jade wizard hat right there-") based off of her read on each person looking around her booth.

once someone between us stepped away, she switched mid-sentence from pitching me on the qualities of rose quartz to Have You Seen My Other Wizard Guys.

[greenorangevioletgrass]

fever pitch (b.b) - prologue

soundtrack: mastermind - taylor swift pairing: footballer!bradley x popstar!reader synopsis: Bradley shoots his shot in public, but will he fumble when he meets you in person? warnings: language, drinking, meet cute notes: my first series in a while! this is shamelessly based on the epic Taylor Swift/Travis Kelce saga currently happening rn, and combine that with my innate love of football (the kicking kind, not the NFL kind) and... voila! I hope you enjoy this. Let me know what you think in the comments, reblogs, and asks. Happy reading! <3 ✨I do not have a taglist. Please follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notification to get the latest update on my fics✨

Soccer Sensation Bradley Bradshaw Fails To Shoot His Shoot With Y/N At Her Concert?

Arsenal captain Bradley Bradshaw may be among his club’s top scorers this season, but even he misses a chance in romance like the rest of us.

The 29-year-old athlete spoke about his missed opportunity with the multi-platinum songstress Y/N while speaking to his former teammate Héctor Bellerín on the latter’s podcast, “More Than A Footballer”, earlier this week.

When asked about any fun stuff he did last weekend, Bradshaw replied,

“I went to the Y/N concert at Wembley [Stadium]... it was awesome. It was pouring rain, but it was amazing. I don’t remember Wembley ever being that electric aside from, like, cup finals. She was sensational.”

Bellerín nods in agreement, having heard great things about the famed singer-songwriter’s live concerts.

Unprompted, the American midfielder then continued,

“If you’ve heard about the tour, there’s this tradition of trading friendship bracelets. And I actually made one with my number on it, hoping I could give it to her after the show…”

The Cockney-raised Spaniard cackled in surprise and teased him, “But she didn’t wanna see you, bruv? [That is] legend!”

“No hard feelings!” Bradshaw raised his hands in defense over the Zoom call. “She needed to dry off and get warm. Gotta make sure she stays healthy, protect those vocal cords. But yeah, I was a bit bummed out about it.”

Bellerín laughed and jokingly addressed the camera, “Y/N, if you’re watching, give my boy a chance, will you?”

Mononymous pop sensation Y/N is hot off of her Kaleidoscope North American Tour, which wrapped in September. Her six-show run at Wembley Stadium this November officially kicks off the European leg of her sold-out tour. 

Will they be the next pop royalty and conquer the stadiums with their own crafts, or will this fizzle out as this week’s viral anecdote? The ball is in your court, Y/N.

Y/N’s representatives have not responded for comment.

***

Your Miu Miu heels click and clack against the ground. The pavement gleams after the rain and glistens under the streetlights. Everywhere you look, your eyes hurt. Down, and you worry about slipping into a puddle and falling on your ass. Forward, and a million camera flashes are ready to give you an aneurysm.

All in the name of reporting your night off of work, performing live in front of 90,000 people in a stadium.

In other words, all in a day’s work.

There’s a moment of reprieve, when the silvery white blitzes disappear into the dim tangerine lighting of the lobby. The flight down the stairs is so dark, you’re seeing green. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust, but as soon as they do, the thumping bass line of some dance music hits your ears. Clashing perfumes doused on the dancing, dressed-up bodies that you have to weave through.

You are seriously regretting your girl friends’ invite to a night out. You could’ve just had them over to your hotel, open a bunch of red wine, and you would’ve still had a blast. But no. You had to say yes to going to the Cuckoo Club with Lacey, Amara, and Jo.

And this evening is making you feel quite cuckoo.

There’s champagne at your booth and you’re much too eager to take a glass and start a toast. “Cheers, bitches!” you yell over the music, clinking your glass against theirs before downing the whole thing in one go.

It’s nowhere near enough.

There’s not enough buzz to dull the assault to your senses—not even after the three glasses of wine at dinner earlier. Everything is still too loud, too bright, too crowded, too… much.

“Hey!” you nudge Amara, who is sitting right next to you. “Let’s do shots!”

She turns to you, eyes widening at the slightest. “I thought you wanted to take it easy tonight!” 

“Changed my mind,” you shrug, as you get up to the bar.

While you make your way through the crowd on the dance floor, Bradley Bradshaw looks up from his booth and does a double-take at the girl who just walked by. Even in a high-end club full of the well-dressed and well-heeled, people still get starstruck. And why wouldn’t they? You’re about as famous as an iPhone. 

His eyes widen and immediately whips out his phone to shoot a text to his oldest and most trusted friend Natasha Trace.

‘Dude, I’m in the club and Y/N just walked in. What do I do??’

Natasha thankfully texts back almost immediately. Then again, maybe being a Communications Director for a major company requires her to be a good texter. ‘Wdym what do you do? Just go talk to her.’

‘You were supposed to introduce us!’ Bradley replies, eyes darting between his phone and you at the bar, conflicted.

Natasha is a mutual friend of yours, too, and when the Bracelet-gate clip went viral, she laughed in his face for a full 5 minutes before deciding to set the two of you up. But the schedule never really aligned, so he hasn’t got a chance to see you. Not even after he went to your concert with a friendship bracelet and a dream.

And now, seeing you here in the same room at the same time as him…

‘What do you want me to do, get down there and do it for you?’

‘...Can you?’

He senses the judgment even as the three dots appear on his screen. 

‘Stop being a pussy, Bradshaw. Let me Netflix and chill with my gf in peace.’

Bradley scoffs, half-annoyed and half-fond. ‘Asshole. Have fun.’

The dance floor clears up, just enough to see that you’re right there. Leaning against the bar in your dress like a dirty daydream, talking to the bartender, and he couldn’t just let you go without a word. He thought about it, and he simply couldn’t.

“Oi, where are you off to?” His teammate Martin hollers, while the others watch him make his way to the bar in determined strides.

He squeezes past patrons across this jungle of a club, hoping to God that somebody hasn’t beaten him to talk to you yet, or you haven’t ducked out completely. Oh fuck. You’re still there, though. Good. You’re still at the bar, still glimmering under the mirrorball. Just a tap on the shoulder away. You can do it, Bradshaw…

“Excuse me, I—”

You feel the hand on your shoulder just as you turn and stand up, and in a flurry of miscoordination, looks up just as the other person moves in.

In a stroke of dumb luck, Bradley feels the top of your head slamming up against his nose and he groans in pain. “Ohh!”

“Shit! Oh my God…” you gasp, reaching out to the man in front of you. He’s tall, very tall, and you can’t quite see his face with his massive hand clutching his nose. “I’m so sorry…”

“No, it’s okay. My bad…” It really doesn’t seem like it, so he lets go of his nose and smiles sheepishly. Gosh, he must’ve looked stupid right now.

But you see it differently. What you see is a dashing man in a sleek tieless navy suit and a well-groomed mustache, straight out of a Cinemascope flick, ever so handsome despite his reddened nose from the way you just accidentally headbutted him. “No, that was totally mine. Are you okay?”

Your eyes are crystal clear even in the dim light, the concern is palpable in your gaze—and rightly so. It’s just that he’d take the headbutt any day, if it means he can look at your beautiful face. “I’m… I’m swell. Y/N, right?”

There’s a shift in your gaze. First, alert—you’re assessing how much of a potential threat this person is, whether they’re gonna be weird about you— and then it relaxes. Not a threat. Then a slightest hint of mischief, like she wants to know what kind of dynamics they would have. “Have we met?”

And boy, can he.

“We haven’t, actually. But I went to your show at Wembley earlier this week. You were amazing.” He offers a handshake. “Bradley Bradshaw.”

You didn’t quite catch his name over the blaring music, although you shake his hand anyway. “Sorry?” 

He leans into your ear, “I’m Bradley Bradshaw.”

You don’t know which one makes your heart skip, the sudden close proximity, the warmth of his timbre, or the whiff of his perfume.

“Right. Nice to meet you, Bradley Bradshaw.” You accept his handshake, hoping he doesn’t see how flustered you are in the strobing purple light.

“Likewise.” He nods with a smile. “And may I just say… you look stunning.”

“What, this old thing?” You brush down the art nouveau-inspired Balmain dress on your body. You’re just being modest, of course; you know you’re dressed to the nines. You have never been much into facial hair, but somehow that mustache suits him very well. “You don’t look so bad yourself. You remind me of a… young Robert Mitchum. Or Paul Newman— or one of those Golden Age leading men.”

His face lights up. It’s hardly the first time he received that kind of compliment, but when it came from you, it feels… different. It feels special. It makes him just a little bolder. “Yeah? Maybe after a few drinks, I’ll be quoting lines from Butch Cassidy. Or would you prefer Cat On A Hot Tin Roof?”

This piques your interest. A man of culture, it seems. But of course, you can’t be too sure. “I’m more of a Paris Blues kinda gal, I’m afraid.”

Gosh, you don’t swoon so easily and he likes you so much for that. “Makes sense.”

“How so?”

“It’s a good underrated musical movie, for the musically gifted… And Sidney Poitier was just fantastic in that.”

“Huh.” You raise your eyebrows. You honestly thought he was just spouting the famous titles. But the fact that he has likely seen this hidden gem might just mean he’s really into it. “Aren’t you full of surprises.”

He leans in to speak in your ear yet again. “If you stick with me for a bit, I might show you another surprise or two.”

The music drowns out your racing heart just barely, and the bartender places a whole set of tequila shots on the bar top, and it snaps you out of your reverie for a moment. 

“Wanna get some air?”

He seems surprised, but of course he wasn’t gonna throw away this shot. “Sure. Why not?”

You instruct the bartender to send the shots to your booth, not even spending ten seconds to ponder staying in this deafening hell hole. Not when this man looks like peace. Perhaps an undercurrent of mystery underneath, but his whole demeanor is as calm and comforting as those old-school movies you put on to fall asleep. At the same time, something about this person pulls you in, it’s almost magnetic, and you can’t help wanting to see this through.

[hydrngea]

Heyy!

Can you do a rafe cameron x reader fluff where she gets made fun of by some girls at the country club and rafe overhears and helps her?

Take your time and thx!

𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐛

a/n : thanks sm for the request 💕💕💕 sorry i took forever !!! hope you enjoy!

masterlist / latest rafe fic / ao3

—————

there were all sorts of talk about you and rafe cameron spreading around the country club.

everytime you went out to drop off an order at a table, you’d hear whispers of your name and feel heavy glares being burnt onto the back of your uniform.

you knew that the people were gonna talk. you were the kook-kings new girl and that was enough to rile up every girl in the obx, especially since you were a pogue.

the sharp voice of your boss pulled you out of your trance as you washed some dirty dishes.

“hey, y/n! switch places with jere at the bar so he can go on break.”

fuck

that was the last thing you needed today and might as well been your last straw. of course he had to switch you to the bar ten minutes before the end of your shift. you internally groan at his words, whilst putting forth your best country-club smile and pushing past the trap door.

the second you walk out you’re ushered over by a high pitched girl from the corner of the bar. great. of course it’s the assholes from school calling for you.

“hey, yoo-hoo! we need some refills over here.”

you hurry over to the group and forced greeting “how may i help?” you ask with a fiegned sweetnsss to your voice, silently praying under your breath that they won’t order anything too complex.

you definitely jinxed yourself.

“can we get 6 spicy margs with extra spice?”

you can’t help the disappointed sigh that escapes you- it’s probably going to take you past the end of your shift to finish mixing that many drinks.

it seems like your dissatisfaction is apparent to them, because the girl in the middle, bianca, you think, cocks her head to her left and pouts.

“is there a problem? you do realize this is your job right?”

you’re taken aback by her comment, even though it shouldn’t surpise you. she’s been kildare’s self appointed queen bee since elementary. her words aren’t very out of the ordinary for her, but they still sting at your chest.

another one scoffs, shrugging a shoulder as she combs her fingers through her freshly balayaged hair. “i know it’s hard for you pogues to be on your feet and work for your money, but what’s the point of the paycheck if you can’t even do your job enthusiastically?”

your clench your fist at your side, digging your fingernails into your palm while biting your tounge. you try not to make it seem like they’re getting to you, but you know by the burning feeling on your cheeks that your body is betraying you.

“so 6 spicy margaritas?” you attempt to end their shaming of you by clarifying the order, but they totally ignore you, continuing on with their degradation.

“really, y/n. if you want the tips you should at least act happy to be at your job.”

happy was the last thing you were feeling at the moment.

“i’ll take that into-“ you voice cracks in the middle of your sentence, your frustration catching up to you. suddenly, you feel small, small like you’re the size of the fire ants that strut over the ground; even smaller. “consideration.” you finish, muttering the last word.

you make to turn on your heel and start on the drinks, yet you hear your name fall from one of their lips once again. you try to focus on pouring the alcohol increments correctly, but you can’t stop yourself from tuning into what they have to say about you.

“i bet she’s gonna leave rafe the second she drains his bank account.”

“please; rafe will leave her once he finally realizes he deserves way better than a pogue. just a matter of time.”

the conversation just keeps getting worse, to the point you almost drop the marghertis as you carry them over towards them.

you let out a somewhat relieved sigh when you see rafe walking over towards the counter, twirling his car keys on his pointer finger.

“hiii rafe.” bianca says, her voice drippping with desperation that almost makes you gag. rafe acts as though she were on mute, completely ignoring her while he beelined in your direction.

he leans against the bar, offering a smile that’s reserved for just you “hey baby,” rafe greets. “ready to go home?”

“yea. let me just grab my stuff and i’ll be out quick.” you reply, quietly as you finish wiping down your work area.

rafe notices your hushed tone and your upset mood without you having to announce it; you have that angry look in your eyes and your skin is flushed scarlet with your jaw it taut. something’s up.

he watches as you trudge out the door and slightly juts out his lip in a small pout, wondering what’s going on with you right now. usually you’re all cheerful and happy when he comes to pick you up from work.

“of course y/n needs rafe to rescue her from work.“ his ears capture the annoying voice of one of the girls gathered together at the corner of the bar. he turns around, looking at them with his brow furrowed in disgust.

“god, i don’t know how he deals with he-“

“what’d you just say?” rafe pushes himself off the counter and stomps his way towards them, giving them all a glare made of steel. the girls all tense in their seats, voices piping down as they just look at him.

of course fucking bianca’s the one to open her mouth to try and respond. rafe doesn’t even give her the opportunity to say something, cutting her off before she can’t even start. “keep that mouth shut. especially if your gonna talk shut about my girl.” he threatens, eyes shooting daggers at her.

just then, you appear from the corner and rafe walks away from them, possessively wrapping an arm over you shoulder, pressing a firm kiss to your forhead and then your lips. “let’s get out of here, huh?” he whispers against your lips and you reply nod, giving him a small smile before you bring your fingers to interlock with his which rests by your bicep.

you can’t help the giggle which falls from you as he mutters a pointed comment towards the girls while you walk past them- loud enough that you’re sure they heard.

they definitely will be keeping their mouths shut from now on.

———

taglist : @maybankslover @mrsstarkey1 @of-many-fandomss @penny4yourthoughts @dearreader03

[taintandviolent]

Going to a haunted house with my boy Max Cooperman

And even though it's not that great, he still gets scared. (He acts like he isn't to save face-)

Halloween prompt do with this as u will! 💜

warnings: language, reader being kinda' mean, Max being a little bitch, cock grabbing, uhhhhh I think that's it.

You bounce on your heels, excited. You love haunted houses, and everything about the season. Good or bad, you’re there for them. Except this time, you dragged Max with you. He swore up and down that he’s done haunts before, but the way his head sweeps back and forth, perking up in the direction of every little noise tells you otherwise. 

“Are you scared?” You jeer, looking over at Max. 

“What? Fuck no. This thing looks laaaame.” 

It does. Even from where he’s standing – behind you, which is totally a coincidence, by the way – he can see that this haunt looks very low-budget and very underwhelming. So why was his heart racing? 

The line shuffles forward, and in the distance, the jarring hum of chainsaws can be heard, paired with some high-pitched screams from patrons. He looks around, uncomfortably scanning his surroundings. He clocks a weird looking clown a few strides ahead in the line, snorting and snarling in unsuspecting faces. Not today, motherfucker. Max narrows his eyes, and crosses his arms, still watching him. His muscles flex mindlessly. 

“This looks super lame. Waste of ten bucks.” He jerks his chin over your shoulder, his eyes still locked on the ever-approaching clown. You follow his line of sight, and see the haunt clown approaching, toying with people in the line in front of you. 

“Okay, tough guy,” you say, nudging him hard back with your shoulder. He stumbles just slightly, and shoots you a disapproving look. 

Soon, it’s your turn, and you immediately swing him in front of you, not thinking twice about it. Max rights his shoulders, broadening them and marches inside like he’s ready to fight. Spoiler alert: he isn’t. 

As soon as you're inside, it takes a couple of seconds for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, but when they do, you see a pair of feet and smirk. They aren’t very good at hiding themselves, but still, you brace yourself for the oncoming scare. A ghoul girl in the corner emerges from between the curtains, wailing loudly at you two. Her painted hand reaches for Max, and he rears back into you, letting out a high pitched, voice cracking yelp.

“Max!” You scream, laughing. “You can’t be serious!” 

“What! It was a loud noise, okay? Chill out, don’t make a big deal.” 

You snort and shake your head and shove him forward. Strobe lights flash in front of you and thick strips of black plastic, probably industrial trash bags, line the hallways. Max takes an apprehensive step, and cranes his neck around the corner. 

“Are you seriously scared?!” You shout, over the sounds of the haunt. 

“No I’m – AAAAHH FUCK!” A chainsaw revs, cutting him off as a knockoff Leatherface rounds the corner, holding the de-bladed chainsaw above his head before thrusting it in Max’s general direction. Again, Max rears back, knocking into you and you catch him at the shoulders, practically howling with laughter. 

“Fight or flight and you choose flight? Really? That’s a shocker.”

He huffs, embarrassed as he shuffles past the actor. “I was about to fucking hit him, I swear to god!” 

“Right, yeah, that’s why you screamed like a bitch?” 

Max has nothing to say to this, but if you could see his face, you’d see that he was totally tough and absolutely was gonna’ clock Leatherface. 

As you round a particularly dark corner, you urge him forward, pressing your stomach against his back. Your hands reach around his torso and cup his flaccid cock from outside his jeans. He jerks, but keeps it quiet. Shockingly. 

“Keep this up, and I’ll really give you something to scream about later.” 

With that, you shove him forward into the darkness towards the howls and screams. There was something kinda' cute about how scared and pathetic he was being, something that ignited a fire deep within your belly.

"Fresh meat!" You yelled, cupping your hands around your mouth.

"Shut up, shut up!"

[legacygirlingreen]

Drenched in Magic // Sebastian Sallow x MC One shot

A/N: this was a wonderful colab with @darch7995 ! I simply wrote the story for her idea and HERE is the audio she did! Seriously check out her page sometime bc her audios are INCREDIBLE

All screenshot is by @silverxstardust - she’s got great work as well!

Warnings: nudity, skinny dipping, kissing, flirting, etc

Word count: 4k

The burning in her thighs was almost distracting from her current plight. Almost. Not only had Sebastian sallow drug her from the warmth of the castle right before dinner for a brief treasure hunt in the highlands, but he’d gotten more than either of them bargained for when they’d stumbled upon a camp of dark wizards. Unfortunately, one of Rookwood’s men recognized her as the one who’d lead to their boss's demise, quickly alerting others in the camp to her and the slytherins presence, and thus the unforgivables being hurled around them had started.

Sebastian, wanting to make good on his promise to never cast one again, immediately took off running, pushing her ahead of him to do the same. And they had continued running at top speed, using whatever spells could come to mind to protect them as many of the wizards turned into various animagus forms, running beside them as vile creatures like dark mongrels.

She was thankful for the massive amounts of walking, stair climbing and often running required by the average hogwarts student - the castle was large and avoiding detentions meant frequently breaking out into a sprint in the corridors. Slowly but surely Sebastian was able to pause every now and again, firing confringo and various spells at the opponents, reducing the number of wizards chasing them with time.

“Glacius!” Sebastian shouted as he hurled the spell out over his shoulder before carefully pulling her body into his. She initially went to protest his move as he pulled her along, seeing no point for him wrenching her into his side, but as the lime green ball of light flew past her body, the place she’d previously been standing, she realized why he had done so.

Having no time to focus on that, she turned around, seeing the enemy frozen in place by Sebastian, and deciding that given the man had attempted to use Avada Kadavra on her, then she was justified in using extreme force…

“Diffindo!” She shouted, turning back around to the difficult to see path in front of them as they continued to run. Pushing ahead of Sebastian, who was slowly starting to waiver with his pace, yet she could still feel him on her heels as they ran.

“Have I ever told you that I really like those trousers ? Like really like them” Sebastian said as they pressed on.

“We are running for our lives, and all you can focus on is my wardrobe Sallow? I never knew you were such an observer of fabrics. Perhaps you should fill that open position at Gladrags now that Mr. Hill’s assistant eloped!” She retorted, annoyed he could find time to flirt with her despite their situation.

“Hard pass. It’s less about the trousers, and more about what’s in them that I find so appealing” he responded and she didn’t have to see his face to know he was smirking.

“Perhaps wait until we are no longer in danger to make comments on my-“ she coughed and although hilariously timed it was mostly from the exertion to her lungs. “Assets?” He asked mischievously, accentuating the former part of the word.

It was at that exact moment she felt a firm smack against the same area she could feel his eyes staring despite running in the nearly pitch Black Forest.

Quickly tossing a side eye over her shoulder as they ran she frowned, realizing that even when their lives were at stake, he was still going to behave like a pig. Figures. Before she could even open her mouth to question him further he responded cheekily.

“I believe it’s called multitasking darling, you should try it someti- Incarcerous!” He shouted, and she heard the thud of yet another body drop to the ground as she turned to see a man tied to the ground. Feeling Sebastian’s hand grabbing at hers, she didn’t question when he thrust his non-dominant hand into her own and began to yard her along.

“Multitasking?” She whispered under her breath rhetorically but Sebastian only chuckled at her stunned reaction.

“Multitasking. Like saving your ass, while also staring at or ” Sebastian trailed off, once again reaching down and this time grabbing a firm handful of her bottom as she yelped, not expecting him to have done something so untoward with their lives on the line.

“What in Merlin's name?!” She cried out, and just as she went to yell at him for his behavior, she saw movement out of the corner of her eyes shouting “Bombarda!” Watching how the witch who’d meant to attack them, flew back against a tree with a sickening smack.

“Now what did that witch do to you to deserve such excessive force darling? Could it be you’re reacting this way because you’re riled up?” He teased her, deciding they should make a stand against the few wizards closing in on them. Sebastian knew that deep down if angered enough or truly threatened, the girl would unleash unforeseen magic that would reduce enemies to shreds.

“Riled up? Riled up?! Why on earth would I be riled up Sallow?!” She asked him frustrated at his behavior while the exhaustion burned in her lungs. She was so angry at the boy for continually making passes at her then backing away. He was such a horrendous flirt in private yet when questioned by Ominis, Poppy or any of their other classmates he seemed less than interested in her. The constant confusion grew more and more frustrating to her, as with time, she’d come to really like the boy.

He was tall - much taller than he had been in 5th year - and had only grown more handsome as he’d aged. His wild brown hair had only gotten more unruly. His smile, still charming and full of light. His shoulders, more broad and his frame filled out with more muscles than she’d have expected. Gone was every trace of baby fat, however still the boyish appearance she grew to love had remained somehow. I’m his dimples, in his eyes and in his playfulness. Sebastian sallow was by far the most handsome man she’d laid eyes on.

Giving her that charming Sallow smile he lightly pulled her body behind his own as he cast protego and a red beam from the bushes beside them cast off his forcefield as she gasp. She needed to stop allowing herself to become distracted during dangerous scenarios, as he was capable of flirting and fighting apparently but she couldn’t hold her own when he was standing so close.

Trying to separate from him once more, he pulled her against his body tighter, casting her a warning gaze downward as he continued the onslaught of teasing by saying “not yet princess” just before another beam bounced off his forcefield.

It frustrated her that he continued to harass her. It frustrated her that he was so damn good at fighting while also riling her up. It frustrated her to know that he was so calm under pressure all the while she was dying within his hold. She was frustrated he held her that way and still he refused to make a move unless under life or death scenarios. It frustrated her the way his thumb stroked against the skin of her thigh gently…

As soon as he deflected the charm, he dropped the protego. And she’d had enough between him and the dark wizards after them both. Feeling the electricity so frequently in her veins charging the air, she decided that now was as good a time as any to let it go. Pointing her want to the sky, she saw the remaining three enemies closing in, pulling down a lightning bolt from the heavens as she reduced the last three of their enemies to ash.

“Wow. It still amazes me how incredible you look when you pull that magic out of thin air. A thing of dreams truly” he said as he continued to hold her against him by the hand he’d moved from her thigh to her waist, and cast down a sly grin with a small wink.

At that she huffed, pushing him away and brushing herself off. She ran a hand through her disheveled hair, realizing that her braid had mostly come undone and recognized soon she’d likely have to redo it. Finally able to catch her breath she walked forward, seeing that one of the fallen wizards had dropped a small coin purse ahead of her, and just as she reached down to grab it she heard Sebastian call out for her.

“MC look out!” She didn’t have much time to react before he hurled himself towards her, tackling her into some bushes as a loud whooshing sound and an animalistic growl filled the air.

“Falling hard for me now aren’t you MC?” He asked with a chuckle as he held her cradled against his chest , ignoring the fact that a River troll had already spotted and charged at them.

Rolling off of him and onto her back, she quickly picked herself up and moved out of the way. Unfortunately Sebastian moved the other direction, as the troll moved between them, cornering her back against its den. Continuing to swing its large staff at her, she continued to dodge and deflect while whatever spells Sebastian hurled seemed to do little damage to it.

Concentrating, she used her ancient magic, spurring herself past the beast and landing herself next to Sebastian, at least she attempted to do so, but miscalculated the distance, crashing into him and sending them both flying backwards. As they did so, she could feel his arms once again snaking around her to cushion her fall.

Immediately all she could feel was warmth. Sticky, warmth and the most foul odor she’d ever smelt. Troll boogies.

“Oh that’s downright foul… and here I was having a good hair day” Sebastian chided out before he rolled out of the barreling troll's way.

As the beast reached its staff up to swing at her, she lifted her wand, using ancient magic once more and catching its weapon mid air, flinging it back into the trolls face, disrupting it before once again calling down the lightning to finally defeat it.

Looking over she saw Sebastian staring up at her from the ground with a smirk on his face.

“Don’t.” She warned him as she examined the absolutely filthy state they found themselves in. Covered in dirt, sweat, blood and now troll boogies.

“What?” He asked feigning innocence as she rolled her eyes

“You know what.” Her tone was threatening but Sebastian hardly seemed to mind as he continued to mess with her.

“You know, I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to look sexy while covered in troll boogies but here you are, proov-“ Sebastian was interrupted by a loud howl.

“You have got to be kidding me!” She replied, annoyed at the now incoming mongrels. Deciding she was done fighting for the time being she reached a hand out to Sebastian, and with him distracted she decided to use her newly acquired skills in apparition to get as far away as she could with a location she knew well in her mind…

“Wha-“ Sebastian looked slightly green at the sudden transportation but quickly regained composure before adding “if you wanted me alone darling all you had to do was say so”

Instead of reacting, she simply swatted him away, heading out from the entrance of the cave. Hoping to leave before Sebastian asked too many questions, she knew that the small borough of bainburgh was nearby, and there they could access the floo flame to get home.

“What is this place?” Sebastian asked, seeing the large carving of the graphorn above them, and she sighed seeing he had firmly planted himself at the entrance to the last keeper trial - the one she had gone in only a few years before.

“This is the entrance to the last keeper trial. I uh, had to tame a graphorn and it opened the door” she exclaimed casually as she continued to hope that he would shuffle away and drop the conversation.

“You what? There’s, but you, how?” He asked, still in shock at what she had told him. She simply shrugged asking “can we leave” while gesturing to the mouth of the gorge as he gave in and followed her.

“Why did you never tell me?” Sebastian asked softly.

“It happened around the same time as the catacomb. You were grieving. I didn’t want to bother you with all the keeper stuff. Then Fig- we don’t need to talk about it.” She explained and he relented, knowing that she often bottled up her emotions, as he did.

“Where are we heading?” Sebastian asked, allowing a change in subject.

“Bainburgh is not a far walk from here, we can take the floo -“ she started but he interrupted.

“It’s past curfew so the floo is shut off to the castle. That and I uh… dropped my bag of powder back when I knocked you to the ground” he exclaimed sheepishly.

“Wonderful. I just want to get these troll boogies off me.” She said rolling her eyes as they came to the beginnings of the forge, seeing jobberknols flying overhead before landing above a waterfall.

Sebastian seemed to have noticed the small pool of water at the base of the cliff as well bc he looked to her, wiggling his eyebrows as he pulled her towards the water.

“Well then Princess, your wish is my command. I’ll have those boogies off you in no time” he exclaimed as he marched the pair of them over to the water's edge.

“Sebastian that water is likely freezing, besides I can assure you, the extent of the grime I want off my body goes much further than what you can see” she nearly whined out, desperately wishing she’d stayed at the castle. She would’ve been bathed and in her night dressing, long asleep if he hadn’t convinced her. But one look into those puppy dog eyes and she'd been a goner.

“Warming charms exist for a reason. And as for the rest… I won’t look if you don’t” he teased, dropping her hand to start working off his plaid school jacket and starting to unbutton his waist coast.

“You can’t be serious” she deadpanned

“Deadly. Besides I heard that once dried, troll boogies are nearly impossible to get off your skin and hair-“ she started to explain and the fear alone of being caked in the vile substance was enough to have her started to undo the latches on her corset style vest.

“Fine. But I’m serious Sallow, no peaking” she warned and he turned out. As he did so, she faced the waters edge, knowing he’d given her the privacy of going into the cool water first. Slowly she removed layer after layer until she was bare, undoing the already messy braid, before wading into the cool water until it covered her from the neck down. In the moonlight she realized how difficult it would be for him to actually see anything, a comfort that allowed her to call to him.

“Alright, I’m facing the wall if you want to come in now” she exclaimed and she had anticipated him to slowly walk into the water as she had, but at the final piece of fabric she heard hit the ground, she soon was sprayed with the large splash his body made as he dived into the water.

Coming up for air he chuckled, expertly swimming towards her, while maintaining a respectable distance as she felt the cool water against her nipples.

“Damn, forgot the warming charm” he reminded her and she sighed realizing they’d be cold until they got out.

“I can go get my wand if you promise not to look-“ she tried to reason but he only swam closer, stopping just shy of her before standing up. While she was covered almost entirely, the tops of his shoulders and chest came into view. Seeing the patch of hair covering the center of his chest her words faltered on her tongue.

“See something you like darling?” He asked at her fish out of water expression.

“I - I’ll get my wand. Excuse me” she went to move but he reached forward, grabbing a shoulder to stop her, keeping his body at a slight distance.

“You know there’s other ways to keep warm right” he teased and she’d finally had enough.

“Would you stop it sallow!” She demanded with a frustrating sigh, pulling free of his grasp as she ducked completely underneath the water to rinse the last of the grime from her hair before breaking the surface.

“Stop what?” He asked, and if he hadn't moved closer while she was under the water, she wouldn’t have been able to see his genuine confusion, not just the fake innocence he loved to tease her with.

“Stop flirting with me when you have no intention of actually following through with anything” she warned and he quirked an eyebrow at her, continuing to close in on her as she moved back.

“What do you mean ‘no intention of following through’?” He asked, quoting her and she shrugged.

“I know you only flirt with me for fun or to see me get frustrated. It’s all some game to you, I know it’s not real” she replied somewhat sadly as she stilled her movements, sinking into the water some more, leaning her head back to see the stars as she felt the cool highland air nip her nose.

“That’s quite a bold assumption to make.” He replied, somewhat defensively but also slightly upset that she would assume something so poorly of him.

“Is it? You never have made a genuine attempt at courting me. Only making obscene comments every now and again or teasing me just to see me blush, then laughing at how red my face gets. How could I not assume it’s some game to you?” She replied, not looking at him as she continued to stare at the stars while soaking in the water.

“Have you perhaps considered that I am just bad at expressing my emotions. That it’s easier to make lighthearted jokes at the things that scare me” he asked her and she pulled her head back up, water drops sliding down her face and neck as she pushed all her hair back.

“I scare you?” She asked confused.

“MC, you terrify the shit out of me” he exclaimed with a distant look in his eye and for once she decided that perhaps she should be the one to tease him instead. Moving closer to him, she stopped just shy of his body, pushing him down so he was covered more by water and level with her.

“You said that troll boogies are hard to remove once they dry” she claimed, pointing to his hair which he has still yet to properly scrub.

“I mostly said that to get you naked.” He admitted bluntly

“Well you got me naked and now I’m offering to make sure all the grime is out of your hair. Can you just shut up and let me help you” she replied and he could only bring himself to nod as she moved behind him, and he dipped his head back as she had previously.

She brought her chilled fingers up to his soaked locks, feeling how silky his hair felt when wet and separating the strands from the sticky substance they had both fallen into earlier. Eventually she worked his hair until she was certain it would be salvageable with a real bath. Noticing the serene expression he wore as he had closed his eyes she commented “you really like having people touching your hair, don’t you”

“Only if by ‘people’ you mean the most beautiful witch I know then yes, I do enjoy it” he replied, looking at her before he pulled his head back free from the water and turned his body to her.

“Do you have an off switch somewhere I’m not aware of?”

“I do, but I’m not quite sure you want to put your hand on my cock and -“

“Sebastian!” She interrupted as he chuckled.

“Sorry, you sort of walked into that one” he gave her a toothy grin before noticing her mild shaking. In the brief amount of time they’d been in the water she was already cold.

“Here I can see you are freezing” he said holding out a hand and she shook her head.

“You think I’m just going to let you feel me up because I’m cold?” She asked and he shook his head with a curious grin.

“I didn’t realize that was on the table, perhaps that’s a better idea than what I had in mind-“ he teased only to feel her smack the exposed skin of his back.

“Feisty. I was going to try wandless magic but I wanted you to be behind me in case we have another confringo style disaster. As lovely as you are, I’d hate to see you without those eyebrows that are so often furrowed at me” he explained and she realized he was simply moving his body in front of hers and she accepted his hand, trying to ignore the way her thigh brushed against his leg as she moved around him in the water. Even the briefest skin to skin contact sent shivers up her spine.

Carefully using wandless magic he was able to slightly raise the temperature of the water around them until it was no longer freezing but it was still by no means pleasant.

“There, don’t want to get too crazy and turn us into a caldron but that’s an improvement… are you feeling alright?” He asked her sudden concern and if she had to guess it was over her distant expression which has resulted from the brief touch under the water.

“Never better.” She said bluntly as she looked at the way the moonlight reflected off his dark eyes or his soaked brown hair clung to his forehead instead of the fringe’s usual place of being pushed off his face.

“Are you sure?” He continued to step towards her with concern.

“Positive” she replied, stepping back, only to find herself up against a rock in the water as he kept coming forward. eventually planting himself directly in front of her, to the point she could feel the occasional brush of his legs against hers as the water lapped around them and the most from the waterfall fell around them.

As Sebastian looked at her with her flushed cheeks, she looked down embarrassed to have been caught in this position with him, but as she did so she realized that the faintest outline of her breasts would be visible through the surface of the water. Looking up at him, she saw his vision trained on exactly what she’d noticed.

She couldn’t find it in herself to reply as his eyes snapped back to her own. Instead she let him take the lead, pushing his hand out and planting himself against the rock behind her as he scooted closer.

“Are you as scared of me, as I am of you MC, because I gotta tell you: dark wizards, mongrel and trolls don’t scare me, but this terrifies me” he admitted while looking at her through downcast eyelids. She didn’t say a word, only flickering her gaze down to his lips as he continued to press his body closer. Bringing a hand up she laid it on his chest , but didn’t push him away, simply holding it there. Underneath her palm she could feel his heart pounding. The feeling of his heartbeat and the nervous shakiness in his breath told her he wasn’t lying.

Finally finding the last bit of courage she pressed off the rock and slowly brought an arm up to loop around his neck, her body floating in the water as she gently tread. At first he seemed surprised but quickly wrapped an arm around her bare waist, feeling her soft skin with the other.

“Positively terrified Sallow… are you too frightened to kiss me or..?” She teased and he leaned in pausing only briefly as he hovered his mouth over hers to ask

“You know there’s no going back to the way things were before if we do this?” He asked and she nodded, tipping her face up and closing the gap to answer his question.

He groaned at the feeling of her lips on his and the gentle way she clung to his body for support as he could stand in the water while she was too short. Hoisting her up slightly, he moved a hand down to grope her curves under the water's surface as they kissed.

Breaking away he remarked “Merlin you’re so beautiful” he said sincerely as he rested his forehead on hers.

She giggled at his compliment, kissing his nose before responding “easy for you to say when you’ve already gotten me naked and we haven’t even been on a proper date”

“You don’t think slaying trolls isn’t a wonderful date actively?”

“Certainly not traditional”

“Have either of us ever been traditional?”

“No I suppose not” she replied once again chuckling.

“Come here, how often do we find ourselves truly alone… I’m not wasting a second of tasting those sweet lips of yours” he demanded, pulling her close as they kissed under the moonlight, entranced in the pool together

[leviathanspain]

If you want to could you write a roman roy x reader? I think fluff would be nice but honestly anything you choose to write would be great. Thank you!

saving all my love

roman roy x reader

synopsis: a snippet of your life with roman roy, the love of your life

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“i simply don’t understand why-“ your argument with an overseas investor was coming to a close. you had fought valiantly to keep the deal, but the investor was stubborn. you turned from the gigantic window where you had been directing your comments at, to see your husband approaching your office.

“you know what?” your words bounced off out into the hall just as roman opened the door. you threw your hands up, “fuck you!” you screamed, grabbing your earpiece and throwing it onto the ground.

“hey ro-“ you glanced up slightly before slamming a heel over your earpiece. you stomped on it a few times, for good measure. “piece of shit-“ you spat, a sense of calm washing over you.

roman had a smile on his face as he draped himself onto your office couch. “that was so fucking hot.” his fingers trailed a path on the couch, “i wish you’d stomp on me like you did that earpiece..” he dramatized a moan and you laughed, smacking his arm.

“down, boy.” you gave him a look before pursing your lips, “i’m not that upset-“

“clearly.” he remarked, eyes shifting to the shattered piece of tech on your carpet. rolling your eyes, you continued, “we’ll get more investors. we always do.” you faked a smile and roman scoffed, “that’s the spirit!”

you chuckled weakly, “it’s not funny, roman..” you let out a small sigh, “it’s just hard.” no one ever said this job was easy. when you had first started at waystar, before you even laid eyes on roman, you had been warned of the roy family and their ‘vicious tempers’. you easily navigated the family, but corporate america wasn’t as easy.

you sat beside him on the couch. a feeling of vulnerability washed over you and you put your head on his shoulder. roman grabbed you, pulling you into him tightly, “you know you don’t have to work, right? you can useless at home, waiting for me to come home from work and pump you full of babies.” he teased, a finger poking your cheek.

you laughed, “as if you wouldn’t like that.” you looked at him coyly, and roman shrugged, “i just don’t like to see you stressed, that’s all.” there was something sweet about his words that made you tear up a bit. you kissed his cheek, before going back to resting your head on his shoulder.

“greg?” the lanky, towering man seemed to shrink just as you spoke. you cut him off in the middle of his unsolicited pitch to roman. he had been rambling for an hour, roman clearly uninterested but per your request, didn’t scare him off. although greg amused you, he was insufferable.

“yeah?” he looked down at you, and anxiously waited for you to speak.

you shifted your head in roman’s lap slightly, a hand reaching up to pull your sunglasses down a bit, “please find another dick to suck, i’ve already called dibs on this one.” you gripped roman’s thigh, earning a crude little comment from roman as greg stared in disbelief.

roman raised his eyebrows, “go on, egg boy.” he waved a hand to greg, who mumbled slightly before walking off.

roman looked down at you just as greg walked away, “talking about sucking dicks-“

you sighed, “i’m in my bikini sunbathing ro, maybe tonight-“ you never got little vacations like these. even if these getaways with only family and those close meant that waystar was in more shit, you still enjoyed them.

roman smirked, “i wasn’t talking about sucking mine. but since you’re offering-“ you laughed, nudging him back on track.

just as roman was about to speak, the only daughter of the roy family approached. she had a glass of champagne in her hand, and a pair of sunglasses sat on her head. shiv was modest, even on vacation she wore some kind of suit or romper.

“i never see her like this.” she looked at roman, a small smile as she looked down at you, “unless you’re with my brother. remind me again why you married him?”

you smirked, looking up at roman before giving an answer, “i just love a man who’s good with his hands.” shrugging slightly as you gave your answer, you adjusted yourself before going back to your sunbathing.

roman lifted his hands at shiv, nodding, “oh yeah! mhm!” he kissed his hands and tipped his head back for a little laugh.

shiv rolled her eyes, stepping back slightly, “i’m just saying, you could do so much better.” she paused to look at you, and you didn’t say anything but smile, as if you were following her joke. but it was nothing short of a jab to roman.

you loved roman, and it was horrible that everyone always tried to make you think otherwise. it was always the same argument with your own family at christmas, who thought you weren’t good enough for someone with deep, deep pockets like roman. but none of that had mattered enough to make you rethink your marriage.

roman waited until his sister had been far away enough to speak, “i got a little surprise for you.” his voice got a little sing songy and you laughed, “what is it?” you sat up, raised an eyebrow as you whirled around to face him.

roman leaned back into the seat, thrusting his pelvis out, “show me how bad you wanna know.”

you rolled your eyes and smacked his leg, “i’ll cut it off if you don’t tell me.”

“ouch, baby.” he joked, before pulling you into his arms, bringing his mouth close to your ear, “i got you a new investor. even richer than the last.”

you couldn’t help a little gasp, “are you serious?!” you looked at his face, eyes searching in his eyes until roman nodded, “mhmmmm!”

you squealed, “oh my god, roman! you’re literally the fucking best-“ you kissed him roughly, pulling away to whisper in his ear, “whatever you want tonight, i’ll fucking do it baby. anything.” you trailed your tongue down the shape of his ear and he shuddered, letting out a low whistle, “you’ve already married without a prenup, y/n.”

you pulled back and smiled widely, “i love you so much, roman roy.”

[jamesunderwater]

Jily Microfic - Opponent

@jilymicrofics - feb 27th, prompt: opponent - words: 911 Summary: Lily might have a heart murmur, might have a crush, it's hard to tell, but she's definitely a feminist, and in case you were wondering, she doesn't care at all if another girl shows interest in James Potter. read the rest in this lil academic rivals to lovers series on my AO3, here! (and stay tuned as this is part 1 of 3 for a little end-of-the-month academic rivals finale ;D) Read Part 2 here & Part 3 here!

Lily Evans is a feminist – she’s obviously a feminist. She’s not about to treat another woman like an opponent just because the girl's got a crush on a boy Lily only mildly, maybe, a little bit – she isn’t even really sure she – likes. Especially not if that boy is James Potter. 

(Again, she isn’t sure – it could just be a heart murmur, she’s looking into it.)

So Tamara Campbell told her friend Maritza Acebo who told Mary Macdonald that Tamara thinks James Potter is cute – so what? When Mary asked James what he thinks of Tamara, he only said, “She’s cute, yeah,” and that’s not exactly I’m going to ask her out this instant sort of language. And so what if he does ask her out? The only reason Lily has to care is if some ninny gets James Potter distracted from his studies, leaving Lily without a challenge.

Sorry, not ninny – she’s a feminist. Some girl. Some lovely, “sure, she’s cute” girl, who is probably of at least average intelligence but – it’s only a fact, nothing subjective about it – surely is no intellectual equal to James Potter, and probably only likes him because she thinks he’s some gorgeous quidditch star with sexy hair and a great smile. And, you know, it isn’t Lily’s fault that Tamara’s high-pitched laugh sounds like the laugh of a ninny. Maybe she shouldn’t squeal so loud the entire corridor hears her just because Potter told one stupid joke…

—

“Happy anniversary,” James says, a proud grin on his face. He’s standing in front of Lily’s desk in their office, bouncing on his heels. He’s sure this is an idiotic idea, but since Lily already thinks he’s a fool, James figures there’s no harm in trying his luck. And whether she smiles or just smirks and rolls her eyes, either expression will be better than the perpetual frown she’s worn the last week.

When Lily lifts an eyebrow, he brandishes a plate from behind his back, placing it before her.

“What’s this?” she asks him, her tone flatter than he’d imagined it would be.

“Lemon tart,” James answers, his smile wavering a bit. “It’s your favorite…isn’t it?”

She stares at the plate for what feels like a century, and James can’t make any sense of what’s happening behind her blank expression. Finally, she says, “Yeah, I like it fine,” her voice lifting forcefully. 

James wishes he were being buried alive, or burned at a stake, or plummeting from three hundred feet in the air – anything besides standing here in this moment.

“Oh,” he manages through desert-dry lips. Clearing his throat, James attempts a recovery, his entire face on fire. “Well, I just thought – it’s been two whole months of being Head students together…” This explanation is going terribly. Is there a spell for turning the floor to quicksand? Can it be done non-verbally? “And we haven’t killed each other yet, so…” He forces a chuckle. “Thought we might celebrate.”

Lily looks at him then, finally, and the green of her eyes is wrong somehow. Too bright and too dull all at once. “Yeah,” she says, her lips down-turned. “Quite a feat.”

His heart squeezes in fear and warning bells chime loudly in his ears, but he asks anyway, “Are you alright?”

She clears her throat, and suddenly she’s standing and gathering her books into her arms. “I’m fine. Thanks for the dessert.” 

She disappears in a blur of red, the lemon tart still on her desk.

—

It’s her own fault, really. She should have just said she liked the damn lemon tart. Why didn’t she tell him she liked the lemon tart? Lily stares across the Gryffindor table, where a few seats down James is watching Tamara Campbell giggle at a decibel only pixies could match.

This is the third day in a row she’s had lunch at their table, her blue tie sticking out amongst the rows of red. There’s absolutely a rule about students of other houses switching tables, Lily’s sure of it – and if there isn’t, there really should be. This is…this is fraternizing with the enemy, if you really think about it, given they’ve got a match against Ravenclaw in two weeks. 

Lily grumbles in irritation. Two years ago she’d never have been able to say the quidditch schedule if asked. She’s been utterly compromised. Her Charms essay due tomorrow is only half-written; this morning, her potion was only the third best in class, and she hadn’t even cared about the disapproving look on Slughorn’s face.

Another giggling shriek reaches its crescendo, and she’s simply had enough. Leaving her plate hardly touched, Lily gets up from the table and heads for the door.

“Hey, Evans, hold on a moment–” 

She barely muffles a groan at the sound of his voice, quickening her pace as she passes him. 

James, with his spider-long legs, is beside her in an instant. “D’you mind trading patrols with me on Friday?” he asks, speaking to her like she’s a child on the verge of a tantrum, as he’s done ever since the lemon tart incident.  “I’ve…got a…” He trails off, suddenly looking incredibly sheepish. 

“Fine,” Lily cuts him off quickly to avoid hearing his bumbling explanation. Her anatomy’s gone all wrong; her lungs are in her throat, her heart is in her stomach, her brain's disintegrating altogether… 

She leaves in a rush, eyes burning, unable to tell who she thinks is more stupid: James Potter, or herself.

To be continued...

[thatweirdbitchjax]

Silent Death

Days Gone Bye <pt 1>

{Rick POV}

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The soft buzz of the ventilator, and continuous beeps of the heart monitor is all I hear as a distorted Shane comes into my view.

"Hey, bud," he said, his voice sounding far off as my labored breathing over powered his voice. He leaned down, his voice becoming slightly easier to hear, "We're still here. We're still hanging in." He looked down at me before shaking his head, "I'm sorry man. I know I say the same crap every time I come in here," he sighed before messing with the flowers that were in a vase that seemed familiar to me. "Everybody pitched in on these. They... they wanted me to bring 'em down. They send their love and they just..." he took a deep breath, "They hope you come back real soon." He sighed again before looking from be to the flowers, then back at me again, "Linda and Diane from dispatch, they picked these out," he began picking at one of the flowers, "Probably could tell, huh?" He took another deep breath before speaking, "I'm gonna gonna sit these on your side table, okay?" He walked out of my line of view and I heard his footsteps head away before I heard nothing at all.

I took slow delayed breaths, "That vase... That's something special." I spoke, my throat sore as I speak. "Fess up, you steal it from your Grandma Jean's house?" I chuckle softly, "Hope you left her that spoon collection." I begin laughing even more before coughing.

"Shane?" I questioned, looking over towards where I'd seen him walk off to. "Shane, you in the john?" I ask again, my voice bouncing off the walls in the silent hospital.

I look over at the flowers again, just to find that they were wilted. I slowly reach a hand up to touch them, a crackling sound emitting from it as I rub the hard petals between my fingers. I look over at the clock, 2:17.

I blink my eyes repeatedly before moving my other hand, removing the clip off my thumb. I grunt softly as I take the air-tubes out of my nose and begin trying to sit up. I grab the IV pole before beginning to stand up, immediately collapsing.

"Nurse, help," my breathing comes in quick, raspy gasps. Maybe they didn't hear me? "Nurse, help," I repeat, a deep pain in my throat as I try to speak.

I continue huffing as I make my way to the bathroom, opening the door and pushing the rest of the medical equipment from my arm. I look at my self in the mirror before I lean down and turn the faucet on, cupping my hands under the flowing water and quickly drinking water.

{???'s POV}

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fuck, my car had broken down miles back and I had been walking for hours now, Glitch following closely behind. Every now and again a geek would pop out from nowhere and I would put an axe through it's head, but other than that it was boring. My tracking devices battery had died a while back so I had no way of finding Vesper.

I felt a cold nose press to the back of my thigh and I turned around, noticing a geek following behind the two of us. A small sigh escaped through my nose as I walked up to it, pulling out an axe and slinging it down, directly down it's skull. It took a bit of hacking as it had gotten dull about five and a half geeks ago. I shook my head slightly before I began walking again.

I look to my side, noticing a hospital. I bet their are some sterile scalpels and needles in there. A few of the stitches keeping my mouth shut had popped or began bleeding and it was what was probably leading these son of a bitch'n geeks towards us. I look back at Glitch with a smile before tapping my right heel against the ground, signaling for him to follow closely behind me.

I walk up the stairs to the door before trying to open it. Locked, great. I sigh dramatically through my nose again. There has to be some sort of fire escape or something. I think walking around the front. Eventually I find an unlocked window.

I snap my fingers twice, signalling to Glitch to go climb a tree or something to stay safe. I knew the inside was going to be dangerous, and I would much rather be dead meat inside rather than him be dead meat for trying to protect me. He growled slightly while glaring at me, his baby blue eyes looking at me with worry. Me and him had an understanding, almost as if he could read my mind much like Vesper.

Vesper. Please be safe Ves, I sighed thinking about my second in charge, however I knew making her go on without me would keep her safer, I just wished I had contact with her, our walkie talkies had been long forgotten in a completely different room so we had no way to contact each other, not unless I could get some batteries for my tracker.

I shook my head slightly, knowing she was safe. She always was. She hated hurting people, but she'd watch me do it for her for breakfast. We just had that kind of bond. She always knew what I wanted to say, even if I couldn't. I had often tried to get my mouth free, but without a doctor, the chances of me losing my tongue were high, plus, with my mouth all stitched up and my tongue stitched to the roof of my mouth, I was a lot more threatening.

I glared right back at him and he shook his head before walking away, hopping into a tree for safety. I sighed again before I began struggling with the window. I eventually was able to tug it open and climb in, I was in some sort of waiting room. I look around for anything and everything before noticing some things that look like they might have batteries in them.

I grab the multiple remotes and tossed them into the bag I was carrying before walking out and down a hallway, past a reception area. I was keeping a close eye out for geeks, I know that almost all hospital's had been cleared out, but you never knew what things found their ways in. My ear twitched as I heard movement.

I refrained from slinging my head in that direction, not wanting to bring unwanted attention onto myself. I slowly turned and after seeing nothing, I decided to go the other way. I found another hallway, noticing a body laying on the ground. The lights were flickering as I pushed a wheelchair out of the way while approaching it, grabbing a knife just in case.

Is that a geek? Or is it already done for? I question, looking at the seemingly dead girl. Her face had splattered blood covering it while the rest of her body was drenched in her own. The girl was very pale and had platinum blonde hair. I gagged mentally as I looked at the brownish blood that covered her. I was one to like looking at gory stuff, but this was just sick. Her stomach had been ripped open and her organs spilled out of her stomach, now that I looked closer, the majority of her skin had been ripped off as well, those monstrous things skinned her.

As I approach it to walk past, I here another noise, this time it was through the doors in front of me. Was that, a match? I question as I slowly approach, putting my knife away and grabbing one of the axes I hadn't used yet, ensure it would easily go through anything in case of the worse case scenario, a herd of them things. But geeks can't light matches, can they?

As I approach I hear slow, deliberate footsteps. I notice a room and hide just in case, realizing I might be able to make my way around to attack from behind. As I find my way to the other side, the person had already turned to face me, I went to swing but I realized pretty quickly that it was human, in fact it was a man.

He flinched back, but quickly realized I had stopped my axe. I look down and notice a bandage on his stomach. I looked back up at him, a questioning look on my face. He was staring at my mouth, more like the bloody beds that was my mouth.

"Who are you?" He spoke slowly. I just kept looking at him silently, not much I could say anyways. He looked back at the thing before looking at me again, his focus re-arriving at my stitches. "Right. Uh, my names Rick, Rick Grimes. Do you know what the hell happened here?" I look at him before looking back at the little girl, shaking my head softly.

I look down at his bandage again, pointing at it with the tip of my axe as a way to ask, what happened to you?

Thankfully he knew what I was asking and answered, "I was shot."

I raise my eyebrow softly before shaking my head, deciding that if he's lying and he turns, then I'll just kill him, no big deal, I've done it before, I'll do it again. I look around and notice a medication room. I nod towards it before tossing him a knife while I enter it. He looked at me like I was crazy before eventually deciding to, slowly, follow me. I simply pushed him back out and began taking all the medical supplies and medication that was in there, which was a lot.

Why didn't I think of this before? I wondered walking back out and noticing him holding the knife in the hand that wasn't clenched to his stomach. I tap his shoulder slightly and he turns to face me, a disturbed look on his face. He handed me back my knife before he began walking away down the hallway again. I noticed two double doors at the end of it. I could hear the chains clinking together as we walked up towards it, me trailing behind him, I was still on the lookout for needles. Of all the things I had seen, needles were the only thing I couldn't find, and I didn't want to leave the man who looked like he just woke up from a coma -he definitely did- alone for too long, just in case he turned. For some reason, I had tossed him my favorite knife, and I was not going to let a geek have it.

He continued walking and looked at the walls, multiple splatters of blood and gunshots were in a line on the wall, At least we know where the dead came from now. I thought with a shrug while looking at the bullet holes. I run a finger across one of them as he continued approaching the door, looking at all the blood on the walls and floor. I slowly began following him again, looking up at the broken ceiling as he walked. How all the glass wasn't hurting this dude's feet? I have not a single clue.

As we approached the double doors we noticed the words "DON'T OPEN, DEAD INSIDE" wrote on it along with a plaque above it that said cafeteria. I grabbed Rick's shoulder as a way to tell him to stop. And I pointed at the handles that were tied together with a chain and lock. His breathing was starting to pick up, and I could hear his heart beat quicker with fear as moaning and glass breaking could be heard behind the door.

He began backing into me as the board lifted slightly while the geeks pushed against the door while groaning. They know we're here. I thought, not moving as he practically stood on top of me, yet he continued trying to back up. They started banging on the door, shoving it while the plank struggled to stay inside the door handles.

He begins panting as they push their fingers out while trying to grab onto the board and the chains. He quickly pushes off of me and runs into another quickly before trying to get an elevator to work. It's not gonna work you idiot. I scoff in my head while following him.

I walk up to him before tapping his shoulder and pointing towards a fire exit. He quickly makes his way into it, holding the door open long enough for me to enter before closing it again, leaving us in complete darkness. He coughs slightly before lighting a match. He coughs again as he adjusts to the light before grabbing onto the railing and slowly walking. I grab his hand that was holding into the match box before attempting to lead him. I remember being here before, or somewhere similar at least before the dead started walking. I heard him gasp as the match burnt him, I moved my grip to his wrist so he could light another one.

I would have done it, but if he has been bitten and he didn't tell me, I'd rather him burn his finger tips rather than me. He lights another one, his breathing shaking as he slightly leans on me for balance while walking down the stairs. Could you breathe any louder? I question. If there was a herd of geeks around, I would feed you to them, with your heavy breathing ass. While I could understand if he had just woken up, and this was his first time seeing them, which it probably is, it's still annoying. Almost as annoying as the fact that he wasn't wearing anything other than a pair of boxer shorts, and a hospital robe. I would offer him some clothes, but I doubt mine would fit him. I chuckle softly at the thought, the sound slightly muffled due to the stitches. He glanced over at me almost looking in thought before the match burned his hand again, causing him to drop it and it to go out.

He lit another one just as we approached the exit. Where do I remember this from? I question myself, while looking at this exit. I was receiving a strange sense of dejá vu. It was like I had been here and done this before. I heard him gasp again as the match burned him, I smelt the burning flesh this time so I softly grabbed the matches out of his hand, stopping him from lighting another one before grabbing his hand after tucking the matches away in a pocket. I carefully led him towards the door, my eyes finally adjusting to the dark. I carefully lead him down the stairs and to the door. I feel around it until I find the handle. I push towards the door and open it squinting as the sun assaulted my eyes. Rick didn't let go of my hand, but he did move his other to block the sun as it's rays attempted to punch his eyes.

He finally pulled out of my grip as he kept looking back and forth, trying to block out the sun. My eyes quickly adjusted, like always but I noticed a putrid smell. Body dump. I thought while looking at all of the bodies on the loading dock. Rick stepped away, leaning against the wall while he attempted to adjust to the brightness. He began walking down the stairs with me following not to far behind as I remember why I had the strange sense of Dejá Vu when my eyes landed upon a familiar body.

Dad? I thought, while looking at him, Rick slowly heading down the stairs as the sound of crickets and flies buzzing around filled the empty silence. I walked down behind him, stopping him just before he stepped on a body. He slowly began walking with me following after him, a somber look on my face while I look at my fathers body. His face hadn't been covered so I could still see the bullet wound on his forehead. I walked past Rick and up to his body, moving the body bag up, covering his face. He might not have been a good man to me or anyone else in my family, but he was still my father. Still the man who taught me to shoot, who taught me to fight, who taught me how to hide weapons on myself, no matter the kinds of tests I might have to go through, he was still the man who'd taught me everything I used to survive now.

Rick looked at me and then at the body before speaking, "Was he someone important to you?" He questioned, I nod softly before standing again, tapping my thigh twice, Rick looking at me questionably before jumping back with a gasp as Glitch jumped out of the tree and came running towards me, stopping when he sat just beside me.

Rick looked like he was about to throw up as he actually looked around as I pet Glitch's head. He began walking again, carful not to accidentally step on any of the dead, people? Geeks? Where they people when they were shot? I shook my head softly before following him, Glitch following closely behind me, looking at the bodies in disgust.

Rick began tripping over his own feet as we walked out. I tried to help him stand straight as we walked up, but he simply pushed me away and continued struggling. I looked at him like he was crazy before looking back at Glitch with a 'You see that too, or am I tripping?' look just for him to be looking at me with the same look. I chuckle softly before following Rick up, noticing all of the military vehicles. Military Jeeps, planes, and even a tank sat at the top of the hill.

(Wee Time Skip)

We had been walking for a while, so much so to the point I had offered Rick water a couple of times before placing the bottle to my lips, the liquid slowly dripping past the stitches and into my throat. We were coming up to a park area and I seen a bike, I tapped his shoulder before pointing at it. I had no clue where he was going, but I was going to help him anyways. He hadn't done any wrong to me yet, and something was telling me that this man was going to need my help.

He noticed the bike thanks to my tap and he began walking towards it before something caught his attention. While walking with him, I noticed it too. It was the upper half of a geek, it's intestines hanging out of where it's legs should be. As he grabbed the bike, it started waking up, it's wheezing sadly not foreign to me.

"Ah. Ah. Oh shit." Rick wheezed, falling over with the bike. I walked over to him, Glitch looking at the geek with disgust while I helped Rick up. His breathing got heavy again as the geek growled at us. He stood up and got on the bike as it reached out towards him before looking at me as I still stood there. I would have killed it, I could have, but I would rather not go through having to track down Rick, and it wasn't causing any trouble as of now, so me and Glitch began running after him. He stopped briefly and looked back at me, I nodded at him to go ahead while me and Glitch ran after him, a small smile gracing my stitched mouth, another stitch popping free as we ran causing blood to drop out of my lips.

As we came up to a house he slowly began getting out the bike before tossing it to the side and climbing up the steps of the path that led to the front door. Me and Glitch followed him as he opened the door and ran in.

"Lori." He said as he opened the door. I lifted a brow at the name before looking around.

This must be his home, Lori must be his wife. I thought to myself, I for some inexplicable reason felt a tug on my heart. Whoever this Lori chick is, she's lucky to have someone this distraught over her absence. I thought to myself, patting Glitches head softly, If I went missing, you'd look for me, wouldn't you, boy? I though while looking down at him.

"Lori!" He said again, walking into another room. I wanted to shush him, tell him to be quite, but I couldn't.

I waited at the front door, not wanting to be disrespectful as he went through his house looking for his wife. She's probably long gone by now. Either dead, or on the way to being dead. I thought to myself, Glitch popping down beside me. I sat down next to him, prompting him to lay his head on my lap as I ran my fingers through his fur.

"Carl. Carl!" He yelled. That must be his son. I guessed again, laying my head on the wall. I watched for any movement whatsoever knowing Glitch would move in an instant if he noticed danger. "Shoot." I heard him mumble. "Lori! Carl!" He yelled again.

Glitch quickly moved, recognizing this as danger. I quickly stood before running through the house to find Rick, finding him in the living room by the front door. He was stooped down, either on the verge of crying or crying. I approached him, hearing him sob, a worried look on my face. I approached him even further, him simply looking at me before going back to crying.

"Lori! Carl." He continued, even after a laid my hand on his back, hoping to calm him down. If he continues yelling like this neither of us will survive. He almost fell onto the floor so I grabbed him and pulled him in, hugging him as he cried. I was never good a consoling people, but I was trying my best, just to keep him quiet. He sobbed in my arms while I held him before he placed a hand on my thigh, looking at it before speaking again. "Is this real?" He questioned.

Oh, come on. Not the "Is this real?" type. I thought to myself, having dealt with this type of person before. He eventually pushed himself off of me before speaking again.

"Am I here?"

And, he's, spiraling. I sighed to myself.

He began hitting himself in the face repeatedly, "Wake.. Wake up." He sniffled as I grabbed his hand to stop him from hitting himself. He looked over at Glitch who was more worried about the fact that I was caring for someone who wasn't him or Vesper, than the fact that he was looking at him.

Rick stood and walked past him, out into the yard, leaving me sitting there. I heard his footsteps slowly leave before I let out a sigh I didn't know I was holding in. I looked down at my chest where his tears had stained my shirt. I remember torturing people for even so much a spilling the tiniest bit of water on me, but right now, I just wanted to make sure this man was ok. Maybe losing everything I worked so hard for was enough to drive me mad. I thought to myself before standing as I heard a yell outside.

"Daddy! Daddy!" I seen a little black boy say while I ran out, Glitch trialing not too far behind me.

"Carl." I heard Rick say, "Carl. I found you." He continued.

"Daddy, I got the sumbitch! I'm gonna smack him dead." I heard the boy say, a twig snapping under my foot as I approached them, causing him to quickly turn around and point a shovel at me. Did this kid really just knock Rick out with a shovel? I questioned myself, making a mental note to laugh at him about it later.

I noticed a man walk up to a geek before shooting it in the side of the head. The man ran up to us, pointing the gun at me before pushing what I'm guessing is his son behind him. "He say something? I thought I heard him say something." He asked his son as I put my hands up, tapping my left heel for Glitch to hide behind me.

"He called me Carl." The boy said frantically.

"Son, you know they don't talk." The man said.

So he is the son then, nice. I guessed right. I thought to myself.

"Hey, mista, what's that bandage for?" He questioned, not moving the gun off me.

"W-what?" Rick questioned, I felt bad for him, but there was nothing I could do about it.

"What kind of wound?" The man asked again. Not receiving an answer he turned to me, but before he couldn't ask he noticed my lips. He looked back at Rick after that, realizing that he wouldn't receive an answer out of me either. "You answer me, damn you." He continued, grabbing the shovel and placing it to his neck. "What's ya wound?" He questioned again.

I noticed Rick slowly losing consciousness and took a step forward, just for the man to raise his head and fix his grip on the gun while pointing it at me. "Take another step and I will kill you." Rick finally passed out as he threatened me.

Tags:

@puppet200 @zeroisreallygood @purpleeggyboi @th3-r4t-48 @im-a-simp898 @aflairforthemelodramaticc @luciluck2046 @caretaleandotherstuff @evry1h8s-me

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Lettuce-In-Law

Fandom: The Artful Dodger Pairing: Jack/Belle Rating: T Word Count: 2166

Summary: The first marriage proposal of the evening might be ill-conceived, but the second is quite sensible.

There is something in the manner of the man—the bank man, the man under whose nose their father allegedly thrust a shovelful of dirt—as he descends to one knee that conjures in Belle’s mind some sort of toy with springs. As if he might pop up from his propositioner’s crouch with unsettling and mechanical speed. But he is not a toy, and this is not a game, despite the party invitations and the pretty foursome of Foxes in evening attire. The scrape of chairs as they all turn to look scratches a rough match of pain down her sternum. It’s starting, but it’s damn inconvenient timing, so as Fanny’s premature “Yes” leaps from her tongue, Belle employs equal haste to rise from her chair, trying to stand up straight so she will be taken seriously, trying to fill her lungs that she might have breath to scream over the unfairness of women dressed like dolls so men with childlike expressions might be overcome over dinner and fall at their feet.

The pain has a rhythm like a hundred thousand soldiers stamping the earth, like the roiling sea that tosses the great ship constructed in hubris, threatening to reduce it back into the splinters of the boards of the wood from which it was made. The pain is the Army and the Navy at once, and Belle is withstanding their onslaught while the man—Oliver Twist—proposes marriage to her sister.

“—a brief but significant acquaintance—” Twist is calling it as Belle marches down the length of the table opposite the lovers’ tableau.

“—knew from the very instant—” he is claiming when she grips the corner of the table, feeling Jack’s eyes on her, pushing off and fighting her body’s impulse to double over.

“—and the security I could provide you thanks to my comfortable position, my generous salary, and my valued friendships must not be weighed against the simple pleasure I shall feel each time I am graced with your radiant smile, though of course they are factors which you are welcome to consider. So, in conclusion…” Twist says, very much sounding as though there is a great deal more he intends to say.

“No,” says Belle. It’s so easy, actually, to get straight to the point.

Twist looks up at her with disbelieving eyes as she sidesteps him and stares hard at her sister, who is utterly aflutter and barely restraining the second assent that will probably come at a startling volume and pitch.

She yearns to tell Fanny more than she knows she has time to say, with pain sharpening its knives on her very bones: that a brief acquaintance is not enough to judge whether this is a man to whom she will want to show her drawings, that a lifetime of security is insufficiently fantastical for someone who practices kissing on bananas, that they weren’t little girls for this, for this, no matter what society would have them take on faith.

“Fanny,” she groans from between her teeth.

Her sister’s wide eyes are on her.

“Belle,” she replies.

Belle takes another step and staggers, sinks, slams the heel of her hand to her chest like a seawall against the hot swell of pain, looks up to see…

…Jack on his feet next to her sister. With Belle on her knees, closer to his chair than Fanny’s after the collapse, and holding her hand in such a way that it could easily be mistaken for an emotional gesture, a tender covering of her heart, she can feel what this looks like even before she registers the reactions of those assembled.

“I knew you really liked him!” Fanny exclaims, clapping her hands together and expressing at least as much joy over this horrible, accidental proposal as her own (which is more proof Belle is too winded to wield towards discouraging the rushed match).

“My daughter is so full of modern ideas!” their father chortles, acting to hide his discomfited uncertainty and recast his child’s erratic behaviour in front of the important guests. “Imagine the woman doing it instead of the man! Quite entertaining! Good fun!”

Belle’s gaze swings to Sneed, trying to smile, ignoring what his medical training must be urging him to see in favour of humouring Governor Fox, agreeing in order to stay in his favour. Coward.

She looks again to Jack, who would and will not ignore her pain, but her glare repels him. He stands while she kneels, and it is another humiliation at his hand, that hand that cuts so quick. After the way he spoke to her, she would never ask him to be her husband. With her eyes, she tells him, but she can feel other eyes too, eyes in the heads of people who are waiting, and she doesn’t want those people to think she’s weak. The invalid or the charade? The pity or the forced congratulations from everyone but Fanny (whose congratulations would be genuine) and their mother (who would abstain altogether)?

“Your radiant smile,” Belle says, a deadness in her eyes as the pain storms inside her, turning her nerves to lightning strikes. She lifts a hand to Jack, offering it to him.

“The security of your comfortable position,” he responds, sliding his fingers across her palm to take hold.

She would howl with laughter over the bad-mannered boldness of using the words to declare that he’s taking her for her money—possibly her parents’ greatest fear—if she had the faculty. And if she didn’t despise him.

When Jack pulls her to her feet, his eyes, all concern, do a rapid dance with hers. Then, he smiles tightly around at the people applauding with what is likely more confusion than delight.

“Get me to my bedroom,” she quietly begs.

“Allow us a few moments to collect ourselves,” Jack tells rather than requests of the room, giving his and Belle’s respectful goodbyes with a sharp nod.

He guides her out, supporting her weight, apparently before her parents can decide what to do or how to stop them.

“May I continue now?” Belle hears Twist inquire, and sighs in relief when Fanny says, “Maybe you’d better not.”

—

Jack exhales in frustration, pacing. Belle’s hands flail behind her back as she attempts to unfasten her dress on her own.

“Just let me help,” he says. Again.

“I will do it myself. You are not my servant. I’m not some sort of princess.”

“Unfortunate choice with the crown then, wasn’t it?” he questions snidely, pointing at the tiara tucked into her styled hair.

Belle groans in annoyance, then pain, her hands flying to cradle her front as her breathing grows rapid and shallow. Jack lunges towards her, attempting to straighten her posture in order to ease the passage of air into her lungs. It’s exponentially more worrying when she doesn’t bark at him to keep back or slap his fingers from her neck as he seeks her pulse.

“Take a seat,” he entreats softly. “Please.”

She allows him to steer her to the edge of her bed. Without waiting—why make Belle waste precious breaths on manners?—Jack sits down too, shifting backwards until he can use both hands to open the back of her dress. The action exposes a white chemise and, over top, a corset he’s morally loose enough to know how to slacken with a few artful tugs.

“Deeper breaths now,” he urges, rubbing firmly alongside her spine with the heel of his hand.

“The trouble isn’t my ability to inhale,” she wheezes, undermining her words, “it’s the pain.” At least she’s finally speaking to him about what’s going on. Jack’s sure that a dialogue, formed around mutual respect, is crucial to— “You nitwit.”

“Well. I’ve never had to undress someone who hates me before. Stand,” Jack requests.

Belle does, and Jack moves quickly to unfasten the rest of her black gown. It slips partway down on its own, but he gets off the bed to work it past the large skirt she wears beneath.

“I don’t hate you,” she argues while he struggles with the fabric. “I just don’t care about you at all.”

“Oh, then I’m sure we’ll be very happy together. Big happy family: you, me, Lady Fanny, and the Lettuce.”

“The Lettuce?”

“Just a special term of endearment Fagin and I have for our dear Mr. Twist.”

Jack huffs, dress successfully around Belle’s feet, and glances up to realize he now occupies a pose identical to the one Belle did earlier. He is the future Mr. Belle Fox, twice over. It’s hard to say whether she notices, hands on her waist and jaw clenched as she seemingly attempts to master another surge of pain. He’s always believed he would do whatever possible to heal the misfortunates who landed on the operating table, but he looks at Belle and wants to do more than what’s possible to heal the ache in her, even when she prods at the ache she’s put in him. He pushes to his feet and removes her loosened corset, the avowal that she doesn’t care squeezing his heart as he sets her free.

“I didn’t mean to propose,” Belle asserts, holding his gaze firmly in hers. “To make that perfectly clear.”

“I’m not actually sure that you did—though, admittedly, I was rather swept up in the romance of the moment: the most despised acquaintance of my former life producing a deeply off-putting display of emotion, succeeded by you crumpling to the ground in obvious pain.” A sarcastic smirk pinches the corner of his mouth as he reanimates the horrible scene. “I nearly swooned.”

“Yes. Well. Good.” Jack’s eyebrows twitch upward. “Good that you understood,” Belle clarifies crossly.

“Thoroughly. The glorified butcher has gotten it through his thick skull.”

“‘Glorified butcher’? I would never—”

“No, but your mother would.”

“My mother…?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he insists with a sigh. His arms go around her to feel for the ties of her underskirt. Neither of them comment on how she sags a bit in his hold, how his fingers slow when her hands run up his arms. But she’s only using him to hold herself up.

The underskirt, heavy like a raincloud, falls.

“Lie down,” Jack says. “I’ll examine you.”

“My mother,” Belle repeats, maneuvering herself onto the pillows he readies for her head. “She doesn’t speak for me, whatever she said to you.”

“Seeing as you don’t know what she said, how can you be so sure you disagree with her?”

“I know two words of what she said, and I know that they hurt you.” She grips his wrist and he feels compelled to meet her eye.

Jack can’t say it aloud—that he was hurt, twice, first by Lady Fox’s blunt, belittling language, and then by her daughter’s easy rejection of him (triggered, of course, by his preceding rejection of her). And Belle can’t apologize, apparently, not properly, though her expression steps in when the words don’t come. They speak better with their hands though, don’t they? Surgeon’s hazard. Jack swallows and rotates his hand to clasp hers. They share a gentle smile, and then he shifts his focus to the tiara she still wears.

“Lady Belle,” he says with a teasing smile, and, gingerly, lifts the ornament from her hair. Belle settles more comfortably into the pillows.

“Is the pain more or less acute when you’re lying down?” Jack asks as he walks over to her array of medical instruments, lightly twirling the tiara, trying not to think about how easily he could conceal it inside his vest pocket, trying not to wonder whether the stones are obsidian, onyx, or—when they catch the candlelight and give off a cutting gleam—black diamonds.

“Less, just now, but that could be because you’re here.”

He looks back at her over his shoulder.

“Really?”

“No,” she says with a wincing grin, “though there is some relief in not having to pretend my condition is milder than it is to ensure your pride isn’t wounded when you realize you can’t save me.”

Jack stares at her following the rush of words, in the silence that seems to ring. Into the stillness bursts the crack and fizzle of fireworks. He doesn’t care. The heart in his chest thu-thumps.

“Save you?”

She says his name and he almost returns to her side instantly, but his training takes over. He turns back to the table, casting his softening, distorting gaze over the scattered instruments. How can he choose when he can’t see?

“They’re useless,” Belle says, and something in her voice ruptures. “Just come back.”

Steady, Jack tells himself. He draws a long inhalation through his nose and reminds himself that he’s always steady, a cornerstone of his profession. Sure grip on the handle of a saw, tight pinch of his fingers on a needle.

He reaches out with quaking hands and takes up the stethoscope, leaving the tiara there to shine.

[redheadspark]

Hi! May i request 'falling head over heels in love' with oliver wood for the May prompts please? 💛

A/N - Hello! I love this request, I think this is perfect for Oliver! Thanks for the request, anon!

Check

Summary - Who knew Oliver Wood would find himself in such a predicament

Warnings - Just some cute fluff :)

"Alright, Wood. You're taking over the Keeper post,"

Wood shot up from his bench with his broom in hand, rolling his shoulders before throwing his leg over his broom and kicking off. Taking to the sky within a second, Oliver grinned from ear to ear in hopes of making a good impression on some of his coaches that were watching and taking notes. He was ready for it, sporting the worn gloves that he had for years and used in school, his lucky boots with his particular brown laces that he never took off the shoe, and the practice sweater that he got when he was hired on the reserve team

Today was a great day: he was trying out to be on the immediate team for Puddlemere United.

He was on the reserve team for a few months now, and although he was simply happy on being the team in general and being in the club, he knew he was meant for more. He went to every game in hopes he would be called up to guard the posts, but it never happened. But he never let that break his spirit, he would rather be there on the bench at every game and fighting hard in every practice than anywhere else. Any other job was up his alley, but this was all he dreamt of and all he ever wanted.

Now he was going to show what he was capable of.

One of the Chasers trying out for the first team started throwing quaffles at him as he was hovering between the three posts. Oliver took care of them with ease, blocking each one with quickness and with agility. All those years of being the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain worked in his favor, let alone being the Keeper since he was a second year at Hogwarts. He used all kinds of moves to block the posts: hitting the quaffle back with the back of his broom, and doing his own twist and turns to stop near goals, it was magnetic to him.

Almost like dancing, but on his broom.

"Alright, let's get the Beaters who are trying out on the other end of the field," Oliver was taking a small break on his broom, still hovering in the air as the tryouts with the fresh potential quidditch players. At least a dozen of them were trying out for only a few spots, including the reserve team. Oliver was not worried though, there were barely any Keepers that were trying out, and he was the only Keeper on the reserve team that was showing potential in moving up to the primary team.

He wasn't going to sweat over some new recruits, but he knew how they felt since he used to be on.

One Beater that flew up to the area on the field caught Oliver's eyes, a young female Beater who had a long braid down her back but looked to have intense eyes and a good grip on her club. He could see, even from his side of the pitch, that she played for some time. Some rookies players were too stiff on their brooms, almost like boards themselves. But others that have played for years knew how to play on the broom and work alongside it.

This Beater was a seasoned player.

The Bludgers were enchanted to boomerang with the Beaters, not hitting or going after others that were trying out or practicing on the pitch. Oliver watched in fascination as one bludger was being whacked at and swung by this Beater over and over, coming back second after second.

But the longer the Beater was hitting the bludger with her club, the farther she was hitting out. She wasn't slowing down, in fact, she looked like she could hit for hours and have no fatigue.

She hit the bludger extra hard, the bludger flew away from her so fast over in Oliver's direction. Oliver panicked for a quick second, ducking and rolling for one quick second as the bludge barely went over his head.

"SORRY!" He heard off on the other side of the pitch, Oliver perking up a bit to hear it came from the same Beater who caught his attention. He was about to answer when she called out again, "LOOK OUT!"

He was hit in the back of the head, and his vision was dark.

"Ah, he's waking up! I'll go let the coach know that the Healer won't be necessary, stay with him won't you?"

Olvie blinked a few times, his vision was beyond blurry and his head was throbbing. The lights above him were harsh to his eyes and were making him squint. He was in pain in his head. Mostly the back of his head, to which he was attempting to reach behind to touch the tender spot on his head. But a hand caught his hand before he could, a soft hand that also felt strong and intense at the same time.

"I wouldn't move a lot," A female voice said in worry, Oliver looked over in the direction and saw a dark silhouette against the lights above. He could almost see the features, but not completely.

"I think being too excited trying out as Beater got the best of me, and landed you here on your back. I'm sorry," She said, her voice was a bit clearer as Olvier was coming back to his senses. He finally saw the face that belonged to the voice: a heart-shaped face, bright green eyes that seemed to make Oliver think of the green grass on the pitch, and a long braid that was thick and had blond highlights on them.

Maybe Oliver did knock his head a bit too hard, since he thought she was so beautiful.

"It's okay," he finally said, noticing that he said nothing and she must have waited for him to respond to her apology. She grinned then, Oliver feeling his stomach flutter from seeing how her grin lighting up her face. He then reluctantly sat up a bit, finally noticing he was on a medical cot inside of the main Medical wing at the club.

"They wanted to make sure you weren't going to get any brain damage," She explained to Oliver as she tentatively took her hand away from his arm, fiddling with her fingers in front of her as she gestured to the door that lead out, "I think the others are now talking in how I nearly killed the Keeper for Puddlemere,"

"I'm on the reserve team actually," Olvier admitted, though now her eyes were big.

"The way you play and guard the posts? You should be the 1st Keeper!" She said in shock, then blushing a bit as Oliver chuckled.

"Why thank ya, you're too kind," Oliver replied, "The way you play is great too, you have a good arm usin' that club,"

"Thank you! I've been playing since I was a girl back at Hogwarts," She explained, Oliver perked up a bit from the mention of his Ala mater. He swing his legs over to sit on the side of the bed, right in front of both the person who gave him a massive headache, and who became his friend.

"Which house were you in?"

"Hufflepuff, why?"

"Just wonderin'. If you were a Slytherin, I would have held a grudge,"

She laughed, and Oliver knew he was a goner.

The End.

May Prompt Session

Tagged - @a-lumos-in-the-nox

[ikeromantic]

Alice in College pt 1

An IkeRev Central characters AU! Written for my IkeRev 1K Celebration, a boarding school AU was the poll winner. Approx. 2700 words. 1/6

On Being the New Kid and Other Horrors

Alice looked up at the soaring towers of Cradle College, her neck tilted back uncomfortably. They were impossibly tall, and looked needle thin. Pennants fluttered atop them, their colors too distant to determine against the steely gray of the sky. The clouds above were heavy with the threat of a coming storm. “Figures,” she sighed. 

There was nothing for it but to go in. She knocked once at the large, wooden entry. A smaller door set into the giant gate swung open. “There you are.” The voice that came from the shadowed threshold was warm and gentle. A moment later, Alice had a face to go with the voice as a young, bespectacled man stepped out. “I’m Blanc Lapin. And you must be our new Alice.”

“Yes, Mr. Lapin.” Alice felt flustered under his rose-gold gaze. He was beautiful in an almost fragile way, with his pale hair and complexion, thin frame, and elegant hands. She found it hard not to stare, and when she did, iIt felt as if he saw right into her heart. His playful smile and wise eyes said they knew every thought she had as she climbed the steps to meet him. 

“Please, call me Blanc.” He took her hands in his and gently squeezed them. “Welcome to Cradle.” 

Alice let herself be led inside. 

The courtyard was old, overgrown with thick, verdant vines. Ivy and roses over crumbling statues, arches, and stone walls. She didn’t have time to really look at any of it as Blanc set a fast pace. He opened the door for her and shepherded her into the entry hall. Alice had just enough time to gawp at the floating crystal chandelier above them before she was herded into another room. 

“Here we are.” Blanc came to a sudden stop, and Alice nearly collided with him. “You’ve arrived just in time for afternoon tea.” He smiled at her wistfully. “Go ahead and grab a tray. You’ll find the food here is quite good. I recommend the carrot cake.”

“The . . . carrot cake?” Alice blinked at him. 

“Yes. Though the strawberry and caramel creme are also very good.” 

“Stop flirting with the new kid. Nobody wants to see that.” A child’s high-pitched voice interrupted before Alice could say anything else. 

She turned to see a small boy with a ridiculous top hat marching toward them. His green jacket and matching bowtie were pressed and formal and far fancier than the simple blue dress and white pinafore Alice wore. The boy looked much too young for college, she thought.

“Oliver, did you come to introduce yourself?” Blanc smiled at him with the same gentle expression he’d show Alice. 

“No.” Oliver crossed his arms. 

Alice wasn’t sure how to react, but Blanc was giving her an encouraging look so she took a breath and held out her hand. “Hi, Oliver. I’m Alice. It’s, um, nice to meet you?” She hadn’t meant it to sound like a question but his frown and lowered brows made her uncertain it was nice.

“Wonderful.” Blanc put his gloved hands together. “I’m afraid I have somewhere else to be, but it looks like you’re getting along just fine.” He gave Alice one last smile and then left. 

She stood there awkwardly, glancing between Blanc’ retreating form and Oliver’s bored expression. 

“Ugh. Come on.” Oliver rolled his eyes and turned on his heel. 

Alice reluctantly followed after. “So. You must be pretty smart to be in college already, hm? What are you studying?”

“Don’t patronize me. I’m not some stupid kid.” 

“Oh. Ok. I - I didn’t mean to?” She took a breath. Clearly the kid was touchy about his age. She didn’t try to make any more small talk as he led her to the snack table. There were pastries, savory and sweet, and a large samovar full of hot tea. 

“Metaphysics.”

Alice was just reaching for a plate when Oliver spoke, and nearly dropped it in surprise. 

He reached out, grabbing her hand to stabilize the plate. “Great. You’re clumsy too.” Oliver sighed. “Anyway, get what you want and then find somewhere to sit.” He let go of her and turned to go. 

“Thanks?”

“Just try not to drop anything.” He took a step and then paused. “You can sit by us, if you want. Not that I care.” And with that, he left her alone.

Alice frowned after him for a moment. “No thanks,” she murmured. She didn’t think she could handle any more kid-sass. Not today anyway. She filled her plate, grabbed a mug of tea, and found an empty table. 

The cafeteria looked like it was meant to house a lot more students than it currently did. Large, round wooden tables dotted the room, with six chairs at each. Only a few were occupied. No one looked over at her arrival, which was fine. It wasn’t her first time being ‘the new kid’ and it would take time to get to know people. 

She picked up a strawberry pastry and took a bite. It was quite good. As good as anything the sweets shop she worked at in London might make. Alice finally started to relax as she sat there, sipping tea and people watching. Despite the magical nature of Cradle, the students here really weren’t that different than -

“You look so beautiful when you’re enjoying yourself.”

The voice caught Alice offguard and she spilt her tea on her skirt as she made a slight jump and turned towards it. Her eyes were met by a pair of wide, grey-blue eyes and a bright, friendly smile. 

“Sorry, did I startle you princess?” He didn’t look sorry at all as he gave her a mischievous wink. “Here, let me help you with that. It’s my fault, afterall.” And then he knelt, leaning into her lap to dab at the spot of tea on her pinafore.

Alice felt completely tongue-tied, her face going instantly hot from the sudden, unexpected familiarity. She took a moment to find her voice again, though it was a little squeakier than she liked. “Who - who are you? What are you doing?”

He laughed warmly and tilted his head to look up at her. “Ah, there I go, jumping right in without even introducing myself. I’m Dalim, and it’s really a pleasure to meet you, Alice.”

She blinked at him uncertainly. He at least looked like he meant it, even if he was entirely too close for someone she just met. His hand was still resting on her leg beside the stain. “N-nice to meet you too. But. Could you . . .”

“Oh! Yeah, sorry about that. I suppose I just got a little carried away. I feel bad I just met you and already made a mess.” He drew his hand back slowly, the warmth of his palm stroking her through her skirt. 

Alice wasn’t sure how to respond. People were just not this forward where she was from. 

“You’re really freaking her out, Dalim. You should give it a rest. Don’t you have enough girlfriends already?” Another interruption, welcome this time. 

She turned her head to see a pink-haired youth a step behind her chair. His shaggy bangs almost covered his oddly colored eyes, one scarlet and the other a tawny gold. He had on a hoodie with cat ears, and fitted t-shirt that said ‘Free Hugs’ in a bubbly yellow print. 

He saw her looking at him and broke into a smile. “Hi Alice. I’m Loki. And I’m rescuing you from this guy, ok?”

“Ok?” Alice echoed him, which was apparently the wrong response because as soon as she spoke, Loki grabbed her hand and pulled her along with him toward the door. 

“W-where are we- hey, what-” She tried to get her question out but before she managed, they were surrounded by a bright light and then she was standing someplace else entirely. The dining hall was gone, replaced by a small balcony on one of the school towers. 

The wind here was cold and the rain felt like tiny needles on her exposed skin. She clutched the balcony railing, trying not to panic as the expanse of the school grounds spread out below her. 

“This is one of my favorite places to escape to.” Loki’s lips brushed her ear as he spoke, and she felt his arms slide around her. “Here, you can lean against me if you’re cold.”

Alice gave him a withering look. She was tired of being teased and manhandled. “This is not a rescue. This is a kidnapping! I was perfectly fine. Enjoying pastries and some cute flirty guy. And now I’m freezing to death on a balcony while you try to - to -” She stopped her tirade as she saw his expression shift from glee to hurt. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, his lips forming a perfect little pout. 

She took a breath and got control of herself. “Look. Loki. It’s fine. I’m just really cold out here. And I wasn’t expecting this. Plus, I don’t know that I like being hugged when I’ve barely met someone.”

He considered for a moment and then nodded. “Alright. I’ll wait until we know each other better before I hug you again. Now come on. Let’s get out of the rain.”

Alice half feared he would magic them someplace else, but instead he turned around and opened a hidden door on the roof that led onto an upper floor of the school library. The walls here were lined with books from floor to ceiling. Magic crystal lamps hovered in the air over long tables, low-slung couches, and private reading booths. 

After a moment, she located the ladder that led up to this level and clambered down. Her hands were so cold she had trouble holding on. Loki, on the other hand, looked none the worse for wear, other than being a little wet. 

“This way,” he gestured for her to follow him through the maze of shelves and reading spots. Alice wasn’t sure she ought to trust him, but it was that or wander off on her own with no idea which direction to go. 

Loki stopped at one of the private reading nooks, a big grin on his face. “Alice. Look,” he whispered.

She leaned forward to see what was in the nook and her eyes landed on a strange-looking man. He had dark hair and wore some sort of small, metal mask. His visible eye was closed in sleep, head resting on a huge, open tome. “Loki. He’s sleeping. Let’s leave him be.”

“Nah.” Loki gave her a wink and then pulled a feather from thin air. He reached forward to tickle the sleeping man’s nose. 

Alice grabbed at the feather, but missed as he pulled it out of reach. She swiped at it again as he wiggled it toward the peaceful face of the sleeper. As Loki yanked it away again, she lost her balance and tumbled straight onto the man. 

He didn’t yell or jerk awake. His eye opened quickly though, and slid to the side, taking in the woman now draped on top of him. In a strained, quiet voice he spoke. “Could you. Please. Get off of me?”

“Sorry. I - I fell. And. Um.” She pulled back and stood straight, flushed to the roots of her hair with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to. You see. Loki - he -” she pointed to him and found the spot empty. In fact, the little pink-haired trouble maker was nowhere in sight.

“He got away.” The man sat up and ran a hand over his hair, trying to pat it into shape. He was failing spectacularly, as clumps stood straight up on the side that had been pressed to the book. “It’s fine.” He sighed. “He does this sort of thing.” He gave up on his hair and held out a hand. “I’m Harr.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Harr. I’m Alice.” She shook his hand. “Sorry I woke you like that.” She couldn’t help but notice he was blushing and wouldn’t meet her gaze. 

“Not your fault.” He took a breath. “Why are you soaking wet?” At her long-suffering sigh, he smiled. “Ah. Loki. Right. Well. Do you know where your room is? You should probably change out of those wet things.”

Alice shook her head. “I assume Blanc - Mr. Lapin - was going to show me, but, I think I’ve lost him completely.”

Harr stood. He was, she realized, very tall. Was he a teacher? A senior? She couldn’t say. “Let me show you.” He rummaged in his bag and took out a plain black notebook. He handed it to her. “This has a map of the school and another of the grounds. And you can take notes in it.”

“Oh, umm. Thank you. You really don’t need to -”

“I don’t need it. And you do.” He smiled and it was the first time he really looked directly at her. It was such a nice smile that she felt almost stunned by it’s sudden appearance. Then it was gone and he was walking away, his long legs taking him further from her with every step. “Come on,” he said over his shoulder. 

She clutched her new notebook in hand and hurried after him, happy for a guide, even one as shy and mysterious as Harr. In fact, she was watching him so intently that she didn’t see the student about to step into her path until the moment they collided. 

“You idiot! Watch where you’re going!” The dark figure she’d run into nearly spat the words as they stood up and straightened their clothes. Black hooded shirt, dark pants. Purple scarf. A strand of pale hair, and a pair of furious amber eyes. He bent down to pick up his books.

“I am so sorry! It was my fault entirely.” She set her notebook down to help him collect his things. It was a pretty big stack of books, notebooks, and loose paper. Tight, scrawling cursive covered nearly every page in tiny, chaotic lines of text. 

“It was absolutely your fault.” He paused to get a good look at her. “You’re the new Alice.” He said the words with even more venom, surprising her into dropping what she’d picked up. 

“Yeah. Sorry about that too, I guess,” she snapped. 

He bent and picked up the rest of his things, snagging her notebook as well. “You should be.”

“Right. Hey - that’s mine though!”

He glanced down as she snagged the black notebook from his hand. 

“Alice?” Harr had stopped a few meters ahead and turned back to check on her. His eyes widened. “Amon?”

The rude guy - Amon - frowned fiercely before hurrying away. He didn’t say anything as he left, but he did spare her one final glare before turning into another doorway.

“Who was that,” she asked Harr as she hurried to catch up to him again.

“Amon Jabberwok.” Harr paused before he went on. “You should be careful around him.”

“Why?” Alice tried for more information, but Harr clammed up and said little else as he practically jogged down the hall and down some stairs. 

Alice was doubly glad she had a guide when she realized how ridiculously tangled the halls and stairways of the school were. Even with a map, she knew it would have taken her awhile to find her room. 

“Your bags should be inside already.” Harr finally spoke up again. “When you’re cleaned up, you should speak to Dean and Blanc about your class schedule.” He gave her a nod and then turned to go.

“Wait!”

He stopped. “Did you need something else?”

“No. Just. Thanks. For the help and the - the notebook.”

Harr nodded. “You’ll need it. And . . . if you . . . have questions, I’ll be around.”

“I appreciate that. I’ll see you then.” And with that, she was alone. Alice opened her door and stepped into the quiet room. Her’s, until the end of the school year. It was pretty nice. Light blue curtains framed a window with a view on the courtyard, and her bed had a nice heavy quilt to chase away the winter chill. There was a small fireplace too, though the flames that danced inside were no normal fire. They threw a light purple glow over the room as they flickered between shades of white and violet. 

Peace. And warm, dry clothes. Alice took a breath, realizing that college here was going to be nothing like London. Nothing at all.

[secret-cyborg]

This one is from an anonymous gifter for Saffron_Eve!

The setting is a post adventure domestic fic, with everyone getting together to enjoy a campfire and all that it entails.

“And now I can tell you about the green ribbon, she said in a low groan. The last of her aching breath blowing towards him. Untie it, and you will see why I never could tell you. He felt sweat beginning to collect at the base of his neck, as he reached out and carefully- “

“Oh god, Albert stop, you don’t need to tell this one every time!” Francoise swatted at the air in front of her as he grinned at her disgust.

“Fran it’s not even scary, it’s sort of romantic in a way.” Joe chimed in, as thoughtfully as he could muster given her near squeal of detest.

“To who?”

She was so quick to answer in exasperated disbelief, that the trio found it hard to contain themselves. Chang and Pyunma sat just off to the side trying their damnedest to stay out of it, but it was getting harder by the minute. Pyunma twist and split oreos in half while Chang worked on artisanally scorching the outside of a handful of soft, fat marshmallows. Then they’d work in tandem to seal the cookies back up with the hot fluff just barely sandwiched between it all.

Joe smacked at the mosquitos circling the backs of his legs, and Francoise huffs between glances at the pock marks tracing his ankles. Jet follows her line of vision and his face sours. “Jesus Christ, did you put on any bug spray?”

“It’s doesn’t look that bad” he said sitting just a little straighter than before.

“Yeah, well it looks like you’re trying to smuggle marbles man.”

Pyunma blew air out his nose trying to stifle a laugh that knew too well when to leave, and tried to face the other end of their makeshift campsite. He bit down on his lips trying to stop it from going and further but even Albert had begun to laugh and it made it that much harder to stop. Joe fished around in a tote bag piled behind their folding chairs until he found the small can of spray.

“You are not doing that here, go over there and spray it” Chang practically spat at him between flaming exhales. “You do that here and guess what? All of this, tastes like DEET and we are not doing that again.” He motioned in wide circles in Pyunmas general direction, the memory of last years smores tasting more like propane than anything else after GB insisted on cooking over a grill. “Uh, right.”

Albert was practically grinning ear to ear as he pulled his phone up to his face and began reading the remainder of the story off his screen. The farther away Joe got, the more Francoise high pitched squeals and the guy’s laughter seemed to echo out into the early evening. He stopped somewhere between the campfire and the house they were all currently calling home, hoping the wind wouldn’t carry the spray too far one way or another and nearly drenched himself in it. Between the can rattling and the fizz of the nozzle he could just make out the slam of the screen porch side door.

 Junior flagged him down with one arm, the other cradled Ivan who in turn simply stuck one of his arms directly in the air. “You guys ready yet?” his voice boomed over across the lot. “Yeah, they’re finishing up right now. How are things going with Great?”

“Gilmore is still working on him…” Ivan reaches out for one of the fingers Joe is wiggling in his face. “He fried up pretty well that one.”

“What is Gilmore doing to him?”

Junior smirked “Oh, you gotta come see” The pair walked back into the house following the sound of a wet slap, then a grunt. GB sat half naked and arched over a chair at the kitchen table, toes curling and heels pressing into the hardwood floors. Gilmore hovered over him; sleeves rolled up to his elbows fishing out long strips of paper towel from a bowl of milk. “Here’s the next one” he said before slapping the strip over Great’s hot, red, and by tomorrow leathery skin. He looked like a dumpling with a near transparent wrapper, or like what Joe imagined the early stages of a silk worm making a cocoon would be like. Little beads of milk trailed off his shoulder blades and pooled onto the floorboards.

Great turned his head slightly if not painfully over his shoulder when he heard giggling. “Knock it off already, will you? I learned my lesson, no need to rub salt in the wound.”

“And another” Gilmore called out before laying down the next section of soggy paper towel. Great winced and as sorry a sight it was Junior and Joe couldn’t help but watch the thick white goo spread across his face and ears jiggle with every movement. “You know the sun block only works if you wear it before you get burned.”

“Oh, har har, that’s right get them in while you can. While a fellow is down, quickly now get them in. What will you do next eh? Call the tabloids? Alert the media if you find it so funny, I’ll wait, really.”

“That’s yogurt” Junior tried to answer between rolling laughs “Anything will work so long as it’s got fat and it’s dairy.”

“Last one” GB’s head shot back around with the soft smack against the patch in the middle of his back. “All done.” Gilmore said matter of fact as he carried the bowl back into the kitchen and began pouring the leftover down the drain.

“What’s next?” GB called out to him; a bit too aware of how tight he was holding his shoulders.

“It needs to sit for a while.”

“Pray tell how long is a while?”

“About an hour or two” he said while wiping the milk off his arms and hands.

“An hour? What the hell am I supposed to do for an hour? You lot are trying to eat without me!”

“I said a bath would have been faster-”

“So did I”

Gilmore nodded, “Junior and I both said a milk bath would be faster and what did you say? Something about feeling like a biscuit? Well, we’ve done it your way and now you’ll have to wait and join us.”

“Well will you all at least promise to save me some?”

Gilmore thought for a moment “Now you know that isn’t up to me, we will see how Chang feels.”

Great felt the weight of the day heavy on his shoulders, as he recalled every instance of Chang’s nagging to apply sun block throughout the day. He even remembered Francoise offering and even heckling Jet over the large swatch of thick cream he slathered on his nose. Egg on his face now it all seemed. He mulled over which was better in this case, sitting it out empty stomached or trying to withstand a critical blow from Chang’s repertoire of well-meant talking-tos.

He wilted in his seat and it sucked the joy out of Gilmore’s teasing. Junior handed off Ivan to Joe and began rummaging through the kitchen drawers. To Greats shock and the others humor, Junior came back out with several boxes of cling film in his hands and began pulling out long sheets.

“Oh no” GB started to wonder if sitting inside was really so horrible after all as the film was wound around his wrist and slowly up his forearms. “Oh, you can’t be serious”

“I told you; a bath would have been the easiest” Junior told him as the roll wrapped around another time.

It was incredible, simply incredible GB thought, just how persuasive this man could be with a roll of plastic wrap.

“That night Ruth took a hot bath, and as she soaked the spot burst! Then out poured a swarm of- “

Francoise pushed the wadded-up blanket she had draped over her lap into Jet’s face in an effort to smother the end of the story out of him. She pushed it half-heartedly into a face that had begun laughing once she lunged towards him. “I told you! I told you! One more of these bullshit stories and I was going to do it! You just had to try me!”

The group laughed over the crackle of the fire and the thump of the pair falling out of their chairs and onto the dirt. Francoise yelped and started pounding her fists into his chest while Jet nearly wheezed from how mad she was getting.

Gilmore passed a large aluminum baking tray to Pyunma, picking up one of the culinary abominations he’d only seen on late night home shopping network programs. Slotted somewhere between all the other needless kitchen knick-knacks and overly branded gadgets. They would call it whatever they wanted but filleted oreos with a burnt marshmallow a smore did not make. But it would take him one…or five before he could probably explain why.

Pyunma in turn, passed the tray to Junior who was chipping off bits of cookie to hand feed to Ivan whose cheeks were already powdered in what looked like soot. The pair gave up an hour or so ago at keeping his hands clean, the damn things kept getting sticky the moment they looked away.

Chang was next, and he similar to Junior was breaking the cookie into chunks and tried to feed Great out of the palm of his hand like a horse. Whatever embarrassment would come from that was already far outweighed by the sheen of his cling wrap coat and his slowly caking yogurt mask. He was thankful at least that in the night they couldn’t get a good enough gander at all the details.

Albert leaned across GB’s lap to take the tray from Chang and quickly nudged it onto a laughing Joe’s lap. They watched as the pair stopped wrestling long enough to get back into their chairs. Jet covered in dirt practically all over his back and Francoise with it all over her shins and somehow even a few twigs tangled in a large knot on the side of her fringe. Her chest heaved with the ridiculousness of it all, catching her breath and feeling so frustrated at these back-to-back gross stories. If they were genuinely scary that was one thing, but high jacking the evening to talk about the most deranged and disgusting stories were beyond her.

As she calmed down it became apparent no one else had started a new story, and she felt a bit worried that she killed the mood. Though when Francoise glanced around the fire everyone was looking at her and trying very obviously, or maybe very badly more like it- to hold in a laugh.

[cress-meadowforge]

the seventh trial (pt. one) @slate-skylar & @cress-meadowforge

There were seven trials.

The first was self-inflicted. The second required proof. The third was simple. A vow, an oath. The fourth accumulated slowly.  The fifth was luck (wasn’t it?). The sixth dawned with the war.  The seventh:

“No, this is the most recent dispatch. Came in a few hours ago,” Cress swapped one sheet for another. Seven for Four, two fronts besieged by the Tarrens, who ate viciously at the borders. “More names, more losses. Some territory taken back along the eastern shore. Are you printing the names?” Cress thought they should. She wondered if her family had conscripted, if her siblings were in one of these districts, fighting this war. Would she find out from one of these lists? Would there be something more personal? A word from Terra, or one of her advisors: we’re sorry for your loss?

“Yeah, every one we have,” Slate said, flipping through his notes from his most recent call with Denver. He was feeling distracted, at odds with everything. It was hard to focus when he was still having trouble believing that this war was really happening, that he was playing a role, that it had led to the Games returning.

Cress plucked a photo taken from the makeshift medical camps in Seven. Tents were pitched among the great redwoods, large frames dwarfed by larger trunks. The sides were lined with cots, and bodies filled them: civilians turned soldiers, their bodies mangled and gruesome, vivid even in black and white. But the focal point was a boy (a boy, she thought, and not a man, for he must have been barely of age) with his eyes turned toward the lens. The blankets that covered his body had been discarded, revealing the truth beneath: that he had lost both his legs, one to the hip and one to the knee, the remaining bits of limb wrapped in bandages, which needed changing, as they’d become bloodied. But he was smiling. Smiling. The boy was smiling and raising his fist–

There was a scraping noise at the door. A measured woosh. Cress lowered the photograph, blinking dazedly as she glanced at Slate. “What was that?”

Slate jumped a bit at the noise, frowning, and turned toward the door. He felt like he’d been on constant guard ever since the Arena, like it had never quite ended. The only times he’d felt calm were under the false guide of morphling. Every other moment — it was war. The enemies kept changing, but the objective remained the same: stay alive. Protect the ones you love.

He stood up, grabbing the knife that he’d taken to keeping on himself at all times again. He’d finally kicked the habit after the Arena, but then when everything started up with the Vox in earnest, he’d found it in his hand more often than not. Cress shifted from the floor, up to her knees, a measured hand splaying protectively over Kya’s bassinet. It was paranoia. Of course it was. Disordered thinking, illogical and frantic, to where she couldn’t stand to let them out of sight. Kya would have slept just as soundly in the nursery, but Cress needed her nearer, never farther than arm’s length. It was all so tenuous, so fragile these days. 

They were both on edge, hearts racing as Slate neared the door.

“Don’t know.” He peered at the door, then saw what had made the noise: a little piece of paper, slid beneath. His heart dropped. Was it bad news, was it a threat? “Guess someone wants to tell us something,” he said, approaching the door and stooping to pick up the piece of paper.

She eased, sinking down onto her heels. Her guarding arm dropped. “They could have knocked.” The sentiment was laced with annoyance, but fear still saturated the core. There had been no time to heal from their old wounds before the Tarrens – and in some ways, the Vox – inflicted more. A phone ringing in the other room could send her spiraling. When they finished working on the zine, she’d need the materials tucked away, somewhere out of sight. It was too familiar, somehow still bright and raw. 

“Why would they have knocked when it’s always twenty times more creepy and annoying to just be a weirdo about it?” Slate joked, or tried to — but it was hard, the tense moment difficult to break. He stepped closer to her to hand over the note. For some reason, he got the feeling this was for Cress; if the message were for him, it felt like it’d be, well, a little bloodier, a little more obvious.

“A long-awaited invitation back to District Zero?” A wishful jest, playful in a way that staved the panic from mounting further. Both of them, trying to play it cool, light. Cress took the piece of paper, inspecting the note:

22nd & Liberty

2 AM

She turned it over:

Burn after reading.

“Ominous,” she appraised, scoffing, “and poorly addressed. Any guesses who it’s for or from?”

Slate took it, peering at it closely as if he could deduce the handwriting, but of course, he couldn’t. That was much more Cress’s wheelhouse anyway. Slate was all blunt instrument. “No idea, but it looks, sounds, and, let me see…” He brought the paper to his nose, gave it a whiff. “Yeah, it even smells like a fucking trap.”

She huffed again, almost nearly genuine with humor. “From who? Snow?” It seemed precisely the kind of thing she’d have done before having her brains blown out on television. “I doubt the Tarrens are luring us into the heart of the Capitol, and if Cacus wanted something, she could have sent a minion or picked up the phone.” But it was unnerving to be summoned, frightening to have the message delivered to their home. 

“So then who?” Slate asked. It was almost more stressful to have the big players ruled out. “I wanna know who we’re dealing with. And what to bring. Is this a knife fight or a gun fight?” He was being partially serious there, already thinking about how to arm and protect themselves. “Assuming we’re going, which… I mean. I figure — we are.” Because they were them. They’d be too curious not to.

Cress sighed, peering down at Kya in her bassinet, “bring both.”

[leogichidaa]

Psychoanalysis Sunday: Winter Interlude

Non-magical AU where Regulus is put in therapy with a psychoanalyst

Part 1 | Previous | Next

"I am going to write to mum and tell her that - "

"You can tell her whatever you like," Sirius snaps. "She isn't going to change my mind and neither are you. I'm staying here for the holidays. I've got something really important I'm working on."

Regulus makes a face. There is no chance that Sirius plans on staying at Hogwarts to work on his studies. He is almost certainly going to engage in some sort of unsavory extracurricular activities with his friends.

"Yes, I am sure whatever it is is of the utmost importance," he says sourly.

Sirius fixes him with a hard look. "It is."

Sirius' expression is surprisingly austere. Regulus' lip curls. "You just want to stay here with your weird, sick friend. I do not understand why he cannot be weird and sick in his own home - or do his parents not want him? I suppose they must not."

"He is not weird, you little arsehole," Sirius growls.

So he is sick, then, Regulus thinks, tucking that confirmation away in the back of his mind. Not that it wasn't already fairly clear that the Lupin weirdo was suffering from something unfortunate, but it was good to know for sure.

"And his parents do want him home because they actually properly love him."

Regulus jumps on the bait immediately. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asks sharply. "Mum and dad do want you home, that is the whole point of this conversation! You are the one insisting on staying here!"

"They don't want me home. They want a - a - " Sirius waves his hands vaguely. "A perfect little doll that they can dress up and show off to all their snobby little friends so everyone can pretend that they're great parents. Like you. They want me to come home and act like you and honestly, I would rather jump off the Astronomy Tower than ever act like you."

Regulus flinches. "Shut up," he mutters, his eyes starting to sting. Sirius can tell his words managed to hit home and he looks savagely pleased. "That is not even true."

"Bullshit," Sirius says. "They say it all the time." He pitches his voice high and nasally in a mocking tone that sounds absolutely nothing like their mother at all, and says, "Why can you not be more like your brother, Sirius? Why don't you behave like perfect Regulus?"

Regulus balls up his fists and clenches his jaw, trying to focus on his anger to keep himself from the humiliating ordeal of crying in front of Sirius.

"Don't get it wrong," Sirius continues. "It isn't because they love you so. It isn't because they think you're wonderful. It's because you're a bloody empty vessel that they can fill with all their stupid ideas because you haven't a single thought of your own."

"Shut up!" Regulus repeats, louder and more determined this time.

Sirius looks at his balled up fists and smirks. "Why, what are you going to do about it? You going to hit me? No, you won't do that. You'll just write pathetic little notes about how much you wish you were brave enough to kill me so they send you to the head shrinker again and you can have all that lovely attention."

"I hate you. I hope you do jump off the Astronomy Tower."

Sirius shakes his head smugly. "Just as I thought. Go and write that to mum, why don't you?" he says, before turning on his heel and walking off.

Regulus watches him go around the corner before letting out a frustrated yell and slamming his fist against the wall, which turns out to be alarmingly solid and distressingly painful.

"I hate you," he mutters again, tears starting to flow down his cheeks now that he is alone. "I hate you so much."

He means it. He really does. He can feel the hot intensity of the hatred coursing through him.

So he can't quite work out why he still wants Sirius to stop being a prat and just come home.

[malconnorsupremacy]

love is a ruthless game (unless you play it good and right)

Pairings: Kanej, mentioned Wesper

Rating: Mature

Summary: Inej is kidnapped, and it doesn't help when the abductor is the man she walked away from a year ago.

Chapter 1: never saw you coming

Inej woke up in an unfamiliar room, disoriented and with a headache the size of Ravka.

She blinked- once, twice. When her eyes adjusted to the pitch darkness of the room, she tried to gauge her surroundings. Someone had taken her shoes off, and her hands were bound by a rope.

She felt the ground beneath her with her bare feet. Cold, tiled, uncleaned for a while.

Before taking action, she unwound the happenings of the night before. Her mind decried for details she might have missed, with great difficulty. Hell, it hurt to think.

~~~

Inej had just finished her routine walkthrough of the ship, reminding everyone of their duties and giving pointed looks to those slacking off. It was then when she heard a knock on the door of her captain’s quarters and the head of a small brunette poked in.

“Sana! Beta, what are you doing here?” Inej offered her a pleasant smile.

Sana was barely 11 years old, and was intercepted by slavers on the streets of Ravka. Her parents had left her to fend for herself just two weeks before her abduction, too poor and sick to give her anything to meet a level of subsistence. They were Suli, too, and were driven to such poverty by the treatment of the horrible government. Inej wondered sometimes, if her parents would’ve ever abandoned her in times of such crisis. If they knew how bloody her hands would be in the future.

“I brought us some tea, will you have some with me?” Sana enquired, holding two cups of tea in her small hands. Inej was replete with a strange warmth and automatic affinity towards this young girl. Well, it wasn’t like she had anything better to do.

“Of course beta, tell me about your day.”

~~~

That tea.

That fucking tea.

Someone had put something in that tea, not enough to make her unconscious on the spot, but just enough to knock her out in another two hours’ time.

Oh Sana, Inej thought ruefully. What did you do?

Her hands had been working on the rope for a few minutes now, and with a sense of triumph, she finally wriggled free of them. Now, free and unbound, her eyes wandered around the room in the proper sense.

A faint glint caught her eye on the far left of the room. A lock.

Bending towards it, she pulled out a bobby pin from her hair and began picking the lock. A few clicks, turns and the lock gave in. With a satisfied smile, Inej got up to open the door when the air around her shifted. Her neck trickled with a trail of goosebumps as she heard a raspy voice speak behind her.

“You’ve gotten so much better at that.”

It was like glass shattering on a marble floor, like a stone scraping a jagged wall. It was the voice Inej had craved to hear for a year now.

Reflexive and nimble as ever, she turned, grabbing a knife on her thigh and holding it against his neck.

She stared at the mosiac of hard lines and sharp edges, and felt a strange sense of relief upon hearing his salt voice.

“Good to see you again, Wraith.”

~~~

The early sun, high and mighty in all its glory, shone down upon the sea and cast its light on a ship- The Wraith- bobbing its way along the glistening waters. Just ahead, were the beginnings of land; of a city most feared- Ketterdam. Inej stood at its hull, her posture stoic, her pride unwavering as she gazed at the Land of Sinners, as most called it. Ketterdam had countless names, all dark and unwelcoming just as the city itself.

But for all its imperfections, for all its flaws, for its abrasive cracks and irascible shortcomings, she’d found a place among its people. She’d found solace in the constant clatter of heels on cobblestones, in the clink of two kvas-filled glasses between strangers, in the sight of a labyrinth of dark coloured coats and boots. She was arriving at the place that had made her who she was today.

Her maiden voyage had been eventful, she had spent the first three months learning the ropes of the role, under the watchful eye of Specht. She had begun her mission of rising to the pinnacle of her crew’s trust as they circled her cautiously, aware she was inexperienced, and testing if she could cut the mustard.

She did, as it turned out. Their first attack was in Shu waters. They had the most extravagant ships with technically qualified sailors and mechanised equipment. This made them simple to spot, but tedious to overwhelm. But Inej was the Wraith, and she was nothing if not headstrong in proving herself. And so she strategised. And she planned. And left the rest for her to show her skills. She shadowed the Shu Captain, translated his words with the help of her Shu crew members, and that night, they freed 30 innocent boys and girls.

That was the night Inej truly earned the respect and admiration from all her crew members.

Over the course of the next six months, she took down 3 more ships. By the time she returned to Ketterdam, she had already created quite a fearsome reputation for herself.

Inej climbed atop the mast and peered through her spyglass as the dock revealed itself beyond the morning fog.

She spotted familiar figures at Berth 22 and could not refrain from grinning. Jesper stood with an obnoxious suit and an even more vibrant hat flailing his lanky arms upwards. Tucked beside him was a bundle of red curls and freckles. She could not see Wylan’s expression distinctly, but could tell he was smiling too. She looked around them in vain, hoping to catch sight of gloved hands, hats or crow-headed canes. Disappointment sunk in quickly, dissolving in her ecstasy, leaving her with a bittersweet, lingering taste. When Inej had left Ketterdam, she had left with a promise to return, if he tried. But she would give him his time. To be ready.

Inej had flushed cheeks by the time she was released by Jesper while Wylan chuckled at his boyfriend’s exaggerated reactions.

“No letter! For two months! Two whole months, Inej. Was it because I asked for more of those spiced muffins from your mother? I understand I overstated my desire to raid her kitchen of those flavours…”

Jesper’s voice was blanked out by another rising point of disdain. Kaz never wrote back. Every time she wrote letters, she wrote to the Van Eck house, to Nina and to the Slat. Did he ever even open those letters? Did he just skim through the points important for business and discard the rest?

Jesper seemed to notice her awry expression and slipped in a nonchalant comment.

"And Kaz has been working himself to death with all those new clubs opening up, man barely has time to breathe."

Inej gave him a good-natured smile. Leave it to Jesper to assure her with those knowing grey eyes.

"Well, " Inej said as she clapped her hands together. "I'm starving."

*

The first stop Inej made after a hearty lunch at the Van Eck mansion was the Slat. She'd had a lovely time catching up with the couple, sharing her adventures at sea and dodging certain innuendos thrown in by Jesper while he explicated details of the developments in their relationship.

Her feet scaled the rooftops, easy as butter on a hot pan. The waves of nostalgia cascaded over her because nothing had changed . The tiles on the roofs. The crooked pipes. The crows outside Kaz Brekker's window.

Inej noticed the attic window was open, meaning he had known she would come. She quickly slipped into her place on the windowsill. The crows cawed at her presence and nipped at her hand as they used to. Crows don't forget, Kaz had told her once. They hold people who nurture them close to their heart. They remember the faces of those who had wronged them, and coddle their thirst for vengeance.

After a good bell of sitting in silence, Inej decided to finally speak to the man seated at his desk.

"Hello, Kaz," She said, her eyes boring into the back of his head.

"Hello, Wraith. What business?" He clipped. Ever the businessman, she thought wryly.

"You didn't come to see me at the docks," she accused.

"I didn't see the reason for doing so. Was there something important?" He asked, his tone showing no sarcasm.

"I was gone for nine months, Kaz. You didn't even write me back."

"What did you expect me to write you about? About how my day was? About how many people I had killed that day? About how I felt so righteous but at the same time deafened with guilt because of the number of souls I had sent to the Saints?"

Inej felt hurt. His tone was mocking, ridiculing as he mimicked one of the lines from her letters.

So he had read them. He had probably laughed at them.

"No, Kaz," She said as she pulled her hood over her head. "Even a simple 'Hello, Inej' would've done."

~~~

"What business, Dirtyhands?" She tried not to let her anger show, of being drugged and then tied to a chair by him.

He only raised a brow in response, which fueled inej’s annoyance.

She backed him until he sat down on the chair right behind him. Then using her leg, she shoved open the door with the picked lock. What stared at her was an unwavering brick wall.

She couldn't help but huff a laugh.

"Whose idea of a cruel joke was this?" She asked, as she watched him curl one end of his mouth.

"Rotty's. Hope before the torture; callous, wouldn't you say?"

It then dawned on her that this was a Dreg safe house. It wasn't one she had been in before, so it had to be a new one. Which also meant there was a hidden escape somewhere in this room.

"You make quite a lousy abductor. You didn't strip me of my knives." She stared right at his brown eyes, swirling, brewing the most bitter coffee she'd ever seen.

He grinned at that but didn't say anything, and Inej hated it. Hated how he made it look like it was part of his plan. How he still rendered her completely flummoxed, even while she was the one who wielded the knife.

"I will ask you one simple question, Dirtyhands. Why did you bring me here?"

"My answer to that has never changed, Inej. Money. Always money."

The urge to spit on his godsforsaken face was so overwhelming she had to clench her mouth shut. She had given up on him a long time ago, and yet he managed to spew such bullshit that she was compelled to want to give up on him all over again.

"What were you going to do? Hand me over to my enemies at sea? Or maybe you'd do me a clean kill yourself? Anything to earn you a quick buck."

Inej thought she saw Kaz's face morph at her words. To something of sadness. Of guilt.

But he went back to wearing a poker face the very next second.

Some deep-rooted part of her screamed vehement denials at the accusation, but she shoved it to the bottom.

This was too much. All of it. It was a bubbling wave of frenzied emotions coupled with anxiety, threatening to burst through her stoic dam.

"No," Kaz said slowly, testing the cracks in her fortress. "I've been paid to bring you here. To get you away from the ship."

When Inej shot him a pointed glare, demanding an elaboration, he sighed.

"Gheller, the man whose ship you raided 7 months ago, has a son- Revanch. Now, Gheller's ship had a signed contract of transfer of 3/4th of his business profit to Revanch. It was a plea to amend the demand in his will, since every other asset he owned went to his bastard son in Kerch, Gewild.

"So you see, Mr. Revanch was furious he wasn't getting anything from his father and commenced a fight with Gewild, demanding he give Revanch his share of the assets."

"And Gewild didn't agree," Inej guessed, painfully nostalgic with how this was the way Kaz always narrated his ventures before the Ice Court heist.

"Of course not, which is why he turns to you, the woman who had stolen his wealth in the first place."

"He wants revenge. And he wants to loot my ship." Inej pieced it together, jaw clenched.

"And that is why he paid me a hefty price to bring you here. You see, your ship is disorganised without you. They wouldn't hold a strong front, unprepared and without the support of their Captain. They’d lose, giving way to Revanch to ransack your ship," Kaz explained, his eyes glinting with a familiar light of mischief.

Inej caught on immediately. The lie in his eyes. The upward tilt of his lips.

Because her ship was the complete opposite of disorganised. Inej had given first importance to making her crew as disciplined as possible. Attacks should be coordinated, and every member should remain alert in case of an emergency.

She narrowed her eyes at him. What was he playing at?

“What did you do? Is my crew in danger?” Inej hissed, tightening her hold over the hilt of her knife. It was starting to make a scar on his pale skin.

Kaz remained baring his ridiculously infuriating smirk.

“No, Inej,” he whispered, as if trusting her with a secret, “because I didn't follow the plan.”

on ao3

[a-strange-inkling]

Trimmings (pt 2)

Amber works for about fifteen to twenty minutes clipping away diligently. The sound of the scissors opening and closing around his split strands like a slice to the meaty flesh of his heart. He keeps wincing so much that she eventually spins the chair around so he can’t see himself. It doesn’t matter, he can still see his dark hair piling up on the white tile below.

It’s a lot.

“Okay, honey, that’s all the burnt ends,” she tells him. “I’m going to give it a wash and see what can be salvaged, okay?”

“…Mmkay.” he answers numbly, eyes round and vacant.

“Hey dude,” Gareth says from where he’s bouncing the baby on his heels. “She’s real quiet, I think she fell back asleep.”

Eddie blinks himself out of the void, glancing over at them, smiling a little when he sees his baby daughter slumped forward in the front pack, snoozing peacefully. His girl really does love her sleep. “Yeah, she’s out.”

“What do I do?” he asks.

“She can sleep in there if you sit back somewhere so her head’s propped up,” he instructs.

“You can sit with her in my office if you want, Gare Bear.” Amber tells him as she turns the water of the shampoo bowl on. “Got a nice comfy chair in there.”

“Oh, that’d be great Ambie, my legs are killing me.” he replies as she pulls back the bead curtain for him, giving her a quick smooch in passing. She then turns Eddie’s chair around and relines it back at a one hundred and fifty degree angle, wetting his hair with the sprayer. This is usually a pleasant experience for him when he goes in for his occasional trim, but he remains stiff as a board, the water amplifying that awful burnt smell that’s lingering all over him. He can tell that at least four inches are gone already as she scrubs the shampoo into his scalp. He can feel it.

“Alright, honey, real talk,” she says, rinsing out the suds before slowly sitting him back up straight. “I’ve had to take off a good hunk already, and if we’re going to even it out, I’ll have to take off even more and...”

“It’s bad isn’t it?” he asks dully as she dries his hair vigorously with a towel. “Just give it to me straight.”

“Well,” she sucks in air through her teeth, turning him around again as she pulls the towel away so he can assess for himself in the mirror. She has it evened out to the best of her ability up to his ears, with a little more length in the back. He looks like a fucking page boy. “I mean, we could do a lot of layering here and it wouldn’t be too bad, but the thing is, there’s still some heat damage, and I’m afraid if we leave it… you’re going to have trouble growing it out as long as you had it before.”

He squints at her reflection for a long while, finally heaving a long sigh. “…You think that I should just cut it down and start over, don’t you?”

“Sorry, honey, I know it’s not what you wanted to hear and I know how you rocker boys love your long wild hair,” she sympathizes. “But it’s probably what’s best for it in the long run.”

He swallows thickly before resigning himself with a short nod, eyes misting over. He already sensed that this was going to be the case on the ride over… and well he really doesn't want to be stuck at this Amish boy bowl cut length forever. “Alright, okay…” He inhales sharp and deep. “...just do it.”

…

One look at him and Gareth is laughing so hard that he’s wheezing at an unnatural pitch, pointing at him from across the room. “Oh. My. God.”

Eddie deadpans, watching his drummer fall back against the desk chair, struggling to breathe. Olivia’s awake from her catnap, looking quite confused about her whereabouts and her Uncle Gareth’s sudden fit of hysterics. She looks up and around to try to see what all the fuss is about.

“Dude!” he barely manages to say between his short breaths. “Holy fuck!”

“Stop.” Eddie warns darkly.

“Gare Bear!” Amber admonishes in disbelief. “Be nice! He looks great! It’s hard to lose such long gorgeous curls like that.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Gareth tries to calm himself, hooting softly, only to break down all over again, louder than before. “I’m sorry, I can’t even look at you… all you need is a fucking sweater vest and khakis!”

Eddie locks his jaw, heat crawling up the back of his neck. He can’t bring himself to look in the mirror again, but he knows he looks ridiculous.

“Don’t listen to him, honey.” Amber says up to him, patting his shoulder in defense. “I know it was a bummer today, but you still look so handsome!”

“...What time’s the frat party on Saturday, bro?” Gareth asks. “Will you have time to make it after your polo match?”

“Man, you’re really pushing it.”

“Why are you laughing at the cut, Gare?” Amber asks with a frown, putting her fists on her hips. “Do you think that I didn’t do a good job or something?”

“No, baby! No way, you did great!” Gareth assures quickly. “I mean, look at him, he’s so...” His voice cracks right open. “Pretty.”

“That’s it! Give me my baby back so I can kill you.” Eddie quips angrily, stomping forward and reaching for his daughter. Gareth helps him unstrap her from the front pack, still giggling merrily, his amusement apparently worth an ass kicking.

“Let me touch it,” he whispers in awe, reaching up to feel the thicker curls on top that Amber put some product in for texture.

“If you touch me, I will rip your dick off.” he vows under his breath.

“Please,” Gareth begs, fingers curling. “Just once.”

“No.” Eddie seethes.

He pouts in disappointment, but drops his hand. “Jimmy better watch out, you might be the prettiest one in the band now.” Gareth points out, catching his breath. “God it’s been so long…Has your forehead always been so big?”

“Keep going while you still have vocal chords, Gare Bear.” Eddie gives him a venomous smile, lifting his four-month-old up into his arms. “Hey princess, ready to go home?”

Olivia focuses on him with her giant baby cow eyes, blinking twice before suddenly breaking into a fit of tears, wailing in fear.

Her cry startles him out of his skin, the sound puncturing him right through his guts when he realizes that she doesn’t recognize him.

“Oh no! Bug, no, no, no, it’s okay! It’s okay!” he assures her softly, holding her up under her arms, leveling their faces. “Look, it’s me! It’s Daddy!”

She closes her eyes tight as he tries to kiss her cheeks, shaking her head against him, her lower lip trembling. It’s enough to make him want to wither up and die. “Livvy, look, look, please, it’s me! It’s me!” he pleads, hugging her close and nuzzling her gently with his nose. His touch and voice must calm her a little, her cries fade to little whimpers when she gives him a second look.

“Yeah, see it’s Daddy, it’s just Daddy.”

“Oooahhh…” She coos up at him sadly as if in question, patting his face with her chubby little hands, still very confused. He sounds like Daddy and feels like Daddy, but he doesn’t look like Daddy.

“Aw, she knows, honey, don’t worry.” Amber consoles as she grabs a broom to start sweeping up the remains of his glorious locks.“Just going to take some getting used to, is all.”

…

“The guys aren’t going to believe me.” Gareth is still snickering as he pulls up on the side of the road outside his building.

“Well, they can see for themself next week.” Eddie replies in feigned delight. “That will just be so great.”

“Aw come on, you know you’d be rolling on the floor if the same thing happened to any of us,” Gareth points out. “I mean you look good, Amber did a great job given the circumstances… you’re lucky you can pull off both.”

“Yeah, sure.” he mutters miserably.

“And Chrissy will probably like it.”

Something snaps like dry stick in the back of his head at that.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks sharply.

“Nothing!” Gareth replies, realizing he just stepped in it. “Just that you know… Chrissy she’s… you know…”

Eddie waits, eyes fixed on him threateningly. “She’s what?”

“I just mean… she’s a clean cut kind of girl, so she’ll probably, you know, not hate it.” he points out, shrinking beneath the weight of his dark and ominous gaze. “And…I-I’m dead aren’t I?”

“…You’re definitely something.” Eddie replies lowly as his words slithers into the creases of his brain, settling there.

“For real, man, I’m just kidding,” he shifts gears and grows serious, despite his smile. “…you going to be okay?”

Eddie shrugs his shoulders with a roll of his eyes, going for careless, unbothered. “I mean, yeah whatever, it could have been way worse and it will grow back, I guess.”

“Yeah, probably pretty quickly too.” Gareth offers. “And longer.”

“Uh huh,” he sighs, getting out of his seat and grabbing Olivia’s car seat and the baby bag out of the back.

“Hey, you sure you’re good?” Gareth asks him through the window.

“Yeah, yeah, man, I’m fine.” he says back over his shoulder. “Totally fine.”

…

He and Olivia spend the better part of the next hour crying together on the couch.

She usually gets fussy around this time of day anyway, wanting her mother and to be nursed. She takes a bottle fine, but sometimes she’s just not keen on it. Eddie can’t blame her, lifeless silicone can’t possibly compare to the soft comfort of Chrissy’s warm breasts.

It doesn’t help that she's still uncertain about him.

“I know, baby girl, I know…” he laments, cradling her in front of him along his knees as she continues to cry in an almost pleading tone.

“Ooooo.” she hoots out. “Ooo hoo hoo hoo.”

“You’re probably wondering what happened to your cool dad and who the hell this lame, preppy dweeb is.” he wheezes, straining his eyes against the tears as he sobs. “It’s so bad, Olivia.”

He straightens when he hears the front door open and close, followed by a short intake of breath and the sound of keys hitting the floor.

He glances up quickly over his shoulder only to jump out of his skin when he sees his tiny one hundred and eighteen pound wife standing over him, wielding an ice scraper high above her head, ready to swing.

They both let out a scream in surprise.

“AHH! NO! CHRISSY! IT’S JUST ME!” he shouts, pulling Livvy up to his chest as he ducks down low, raising a hand.

Chrissy freezes. “Eddie! What…?”

“It’s me!” he cries, peeking up at her as he slowly unfurls. “Jesus Christ, Christina! It’s me!”

“Oh my God! You scared me!” she gasps, lowering her weapon as her hand grips her chest.

“I scared you!?” he asks incredulously, exchanging a look with Olivia, who is now stunned quiet from all the noise. Eyes huge.

“I thought—I thought someone broke in and was stealing the baby!”

“Well, it’s good to know you’re prepared to straight up decapitate break-ins!” he exclaims.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie...I had no idea…” she breathes, taking him in as she slips off her coat and boots, slowly approaching him in disbelief. “What on earth did you—When—Why did you—Your hair!?”

His face crumbles.

“Oh, baby!” she coos, moving around the couch to his side. “What happened?”

“No, don’t look at me.” he whimpers, drawing her close with one arm, hiding his face in her stomach, while he holds Olivia to sit on his lap with the other. Chrissy staggers forward at his pulling, placing a hand on his head.

“I had to cut it all off or it wouldn’t grow baa-ha-ha-hack.” he explains woefully into the fabric of her sweater. “And Livvy doesn’t even know who I am and I look horrible and Gareth laughed at me and all the other guys are going to laugh at me and the whole aesthetic is ruined! No one is ever going to take me seriously in the metal scene ever again! I’ll never be able to play music! It’s all over! The dream is dead!”

“…You don’t look horrible.” He feels her run her fingers through what’s left of his hair consolingly, nails gently scratching his scalp.

“Don’t lie to me just because you love me!” he retorts vehemently.

“I’m not lying,” she promises soothingly, tugging him back gently, tilting his head up to meet her gaze. “It’s different, but it’s kind of nice...I can see your whole face.” She smiles as she strokes his jaw lovingly, making it very hard for him to pout and be immature about it, so he instead buries back into her. “…Why did you need to cut it in the first place?”

Oh, yeah… that. He peeks up at her hesitantly, his dark eyes huge and shaky, before quickly hiding again.

“Eddie?” she repeats a little more firmly. “Why did you need to cut it?”

“Okay, okay, before I tell you,” he stands up, holding Olivia out to her. The baby immediately reaches out for her mother, squealing excitedly. “I need you to take this,” Chrissy smiles, accepting the offering happily, covering her plushy cheeks with warm kisses. “This perfect angel child,” he runs a hand over their daughter's soft dark hair. “That we made out of our love for one another.” he reminds her intently.

She seems to be catching on that she isn’t going to like with what she hears next. “Okay, yes… now tell me what happened,” she insists as Livvy melts against her, resting her head snuggly against her chest, giving Eddie curious side glances. “What did you do?”

“Okay, so at rehearsal…we’ve been talking about having some new effects for the gig on Saturday for a while now… and Jimmy brought in some of the equipment for these effects, you know, to test out.”

She narrows her eyes immediately, her lips pressing together. “What kind of effects?”

“I just want to point out that no one got hurt, physically speaking…”

“What kind of effects, Eddie?” she repeats through her teeth.

“Various stuff, you know, lighting, smoke, and… pyrotechnics.” he mutters the last part quietly under his breath.

“What was that?” she asks, eyes flashing.

“Pyrotechnics.” He winces, clenching his teeth.

“Edward Robert Munson!”

Oh wow, the full name. Not just ‘Edward’ or the next level up; ‘Edward Robert’, but the actual full trifecta.

He’s dead.

“Yeah… so um… long story short, a faulty flame projector went off and my hair caught on fire while I was on stage.” He starts backing away with his hands up.

“Are you serious!? You caught on fire!?” She follows after him angrily, but then remembers she’s holding the baby and pauses. She looks down at Olivia and then back up at him, realizing why he passed her off.

“Smart tactic.” she admits.

“Thanks,” he breathes. “…I swear baby, nobody got hurt…”

“Nobody got… You caught on fire!” she says again incredulously. “Eddie, are you crazy!? What if it was more than your hair! What if the whole studio caught on fire?” she asks. “Did any of you think about that?”

“No, no not really, the general thought process was pretty much ‘Fire gun? Let me try!’, which by the way, Gareth said Jimmy knew what he was doing and gave him the go ahead…”

She glares darkly.

”So…it’s his fault really, technically speaking!”

“And where was our infant daughter when this happened!?”

“In the sound booth with Randy,” he promises. “Completely safe and nowhere near any fire, I swear.”

She seethes quietly, but seems to be deflating a little as she reaches up to grab his chin, turning it one way and then the other. “And it was just your hair? You didn’t get burned anywhere else?”

“No, I’m okay, promise.” he takes her hand, kissing it tentatively, giving her the big doe eyes he knows she can’t resist.

“Eddie…” She empties her lungs in one exhale. “You’re going to give me a nervous breakdown one of these days.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, so, so sorry, it really was a total freak accident and we’re not going to have any fire effects during the show.”

…At least for right now.

He rubs her occupied arms, ducking to kiss her pouty lower lip which she benevolently allows. “Sorry, mmm sorry, I love you, I’m sorry.” He keeps at it until she is smiling and twisting away from him.

“Okay, I get it.”

“Forgive me?” he asks, lifting his hand to hold her in place by the neck, chasing after her lips with a cheeky grin. “Hm, please?”

“Alright, okay, yes!” she giggles, just before he recaptures her mouth.

Olivia makes a noise from between them in protest, whimpering softly, gripping onto Chrissy’s sweater.

Eddie pulls away, frowning sadly. “She’s scared of me now.”

“No she’s not,” Chrissy assures him. “She’s just hungry.”

…

Olivia just keeps eyeing him all through dinner and when they begin to get ready for bed.

“Hey pretty girl,” he tries softly when she looks up at him while Chrissy dresses her in her fuzzy pink pajamas as she lays in her bassinet beside their bed.

She sucks on her fist, kicking her legs.

“Do you know me yet?” he asks in a high, soft voice, rubbing her round little tummy. “Huh?”

“Of course she knows you,” Chrissy says as she snaps the line of buttons along the seam of her onesie. “You’re her daddy.”

“Then she really just hates the new haircut.” he muses.

“She does not.”

There’s a bit more kicking and squirming until she suddenly smiles around her fingers, her round eyes crinkling up happily at him.

“Hey!” he beams. “Hey, Livvy! Hi! Yeah! That’s right, it’s me! It’s Daddy!”

“See? I told you she knows!” Chrissy coos as she lifts her up with a wide open smile, handing her to him. She cries out happily, smacking his face lightly with both her gooey hands as he kisses her nose.

“She was probably just sensing your… distress.”

“Or she’s just finally accepted Mommy’s new dork boyfriend that won’t leave.”

“Oh, stop.” Chrissy sighs in exhaustion.

…

After they get Livvy to sleep, they settle into bed for the night.

Eddie leans over and kisses her before switching off the lamp on their bedside table. He shifts under the covers, pausing and looking down when he feels her hand slowly sliding up his arm. He eyes it with a salacious smirk, a single dark brow raising high. “Oh… is this a hand on shoulder kind of night?”

She smiles coyly as she stretches up and presses her mouth to his, kissing him long and slow, gracefully swinging her leg over his waist to straddle him.

He gasps excitedly between the push and pull of her lips, easing down against the pillow beneath her, his hands rising to squeeze her hips. “I think it is!”

“Shhh…” she hushes, holding back a giggle, her palms finding purpose against his chest as she edges down, making him hiss softly. “It won’t be if you wake Livvy up.”

He hums lowly in agreement, grinning against her lips as she gently rocks into him. He moves a hand to the back of her neck, tilting his chin to deepen the searing kiss, lifting his hips high, making her keen softly.

However, when he feels her fingers trail up his neck into his hair, gripping the thicker layer on top, he suddenly stills, thrown off by how strange it feels.

How lacking.

He breaks the kiss, meeting her gaze. “Hey, wait, wait.”

“What?” she breathes. “What’s wrong?”

“Chrissy will probably like it.” Gareth’s comment echoes in the back of his mind.

“…Do you like it like this?” He voices his thoughts aloud.

“Like what?” She tilts her head at him.

Like all the preppy fuckers she goes to school with that always make a pass at her. Like all the guys she grew up surrounded by. Like her ex-boyfriend.

“My hair.” he pants. “Short like this.”

“Eddie…” she sighs tiredly, her forehead falling to his chest. “Oh my God.”

“I mean… you’re awfully giddy.”

She gives him a thoroughly unimpressed look.

“Think carefully… is there a right way for me to answer this question for you?” she asks, locking their eyes. “If I say I don’t you’ll be upset about losing your hair, and if I say I do you’ll be upset that I prefer it short when you prefer it long.”

“I won’t be upset either way, I promise,” he says. “I mean, you’re my wife, I honestly just want to know your preference.”

She doesn’t quite look like she remotely believes him. “Well, I don’t have one.”

“Oh, come on.” he replies. “You have to! The contrast is insane. I look like a whole different person. Our daughter didn’t recognize me. You have to have an opinion!”

“I don’t,” she insists, grabbing his chin, angling him up toward her. “I don’t care what your hair looks like as long as you're attached to it… You’re really overthinking this, baby.”

“…Sorry.” he finally sighs, shaking his head at himself as he meets her lips again. “I’m just really in my own head right now.”

“It was a stressful day.” She reminds him, softening as she sits up on her feet a moment to lift her shirt over her head. She tips back over him as his palms slide up the smooth plane of her back. “But, you’re not hurt, thank God, and it’s going to grow back.”

He nods slowly, closing his eyes and tries to focus on the slip of her warm tongue between his lips… but now she’s not touching his hair at all, instead fisting the fabric of his shirt.

And just like that, more irrational, unprecedented paranoia.

Does she really not like it? Does he look too different? Too much like those cookie cutter yuppies? It’s not like she married any of them.

She married him.

He cuts her off again, hands sliding up to cup her face, gently tugging her back. “But do you um… do you want it to grow back?”

“Eddie.” she whines limply. “Do you hear how ridiculous you sound right now?”

“I just really need to know if you like it or not!”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“Yes it does!”

“Okay, okay, Eddie, fine,” she cries in exasperation. “You caught me, I was only ever attracted to you for your hair, and now that it’s gone, I guess we’re just going to have to wait for it to grow back out to have sex.”

With that, she dismounts him and lays back down beneath the comforter, turning over to her side.

“…Well I mean, let’s not get carried away here.” He whispers hurriedly, following after her, spooning her up against him.

“Too late for that.” she mutters in annoyance, curling up tight when he tries to nuzzle her neck.

“I know, I’m sorry.” he says again into her hair. “I’m being an idiot.”

“Why do you think it would even matter to me?” she asks. “I mean you didn’t even have any hair when we met and I still thought you were the coolest.”

“I don’t know, it’s just throwing me the fuck off…” he murmurs into her shoulder. He probably sounds like a hypocrite right now. He’s always the one reminding her, showing her, how beautiful she is. He’s always been the one comfortable in his skin while she struggles in her own. “I’ve just been growing it out for so long and now it’s like my whole look… identity is gone and… I guess I thought it would throw you off too.”

“I mean, yes,” she sighs, turning and laying on her back to look up at him. “It’s really different, but I still like it… It’s not a more or less thing.”

“Mhm.” he hums halfheartedly.

She caresses his face, moving her thumb along his cheek. “I went through a lot of changes over the last year too and I know there were a few things you appreciated about that.” Her eyes flit down to her fuller, rounder breasts then back up at him, making him flush and avoid her gaze sheepishly.

“…Did you not like them before when they were smaller?” she asks.

Guilt seeps into him at that, remembering all of her physical challenges and insecurities she had to overcome while she was pregnant with Olivia.

He shakes his head. “They’re perfect, they’ve always been perfect.” he mutters a little petulantly. “You’re perfect.”

“Okay, but what about my waist? My hips?” she asks him, placing her hands over his, drawing them along her curves that have become softer, less jagged. “They’re more filled out now, I’ve put on some weight, almost ten pounds.”

“Chrissy…”

“Do you like me better like this?” she asks him.

“Alright, okay,” he surrenders, pressing his forehead against hers. “I get it, I get the point.”

“Good,” she smiles with a little huff. “…Now will you please just kiss me.”

He snorts, unable to fight off his smile as he obliges.