#and i am doing an experiment to see if the smell is from the trashcan or not so we’ll see how that goes in a few hours ig

[ghostzzy]

trying rly hard to be in a good mood today but it’s not working :^(

i forgot to buy candy for trick or treaters. i have no halloween plans. i have to do school again today. my whole house stinks for some reason i cannot figure out. investigating made me puke. work is annoying. just. uagahgghagsjfksksjfkj.

[the-eldritch-it-gay]

How do you feel when you come from a working class POC area and go into this middle class white area? To me it's like going into another world but I am interested to listen to how YOU see/feel. I go into this office to clean and all the people are white and they have wine parties??? They talk about cheeses? They all look pretty and smell expensive not like my whack ass victorias secret body spray lolll and it's SO inchhhhhrestiiiing seeing them interact. I wonder what that's like. How do you view them? Am i weird for being curious about them?

It is wild to me. Cleaning at a school is interesting because it seems to attract a pretty specific type of white woman to become teachers. I swear to god every time I get to work and see them gathered in the hall or something it activates my fight or flight because like, Well Dressed White Women Aged 30-50 are like, typically the worst people to come across in my experience, with regards to just entitlement and racism.

You might think that being a teacher might like, mean they're kind or understanding or something but nope. They're the type to leave passive-aggressive notes about how you missed something while cleaning or complain to your boss because there's a smudge on one of their mirrors. Hell, I try to be kind right, I smile and nod and try to say some pleasantries because I'm used to If I Am Not The Pinnacle of Benevolence and Nonthreatening then I won't be treated as a person. But like, straight up these women do not acknowledge me, at most they might do a white person smile, but usually they do not even react. One of them was leaving while I was gathering the trash, and I told her in you know, my Pleasant Soft Pitched Up Voice "Have a nice night! :)" and she like did not even look back and was just like "yeah." in the same tone and cadence one might say "whatever" and that's probably the most interaction I've gotten aside from a one woman who spoke to me like I was a child who didn't know English. (They do, however, chat extensively with my coworker, a white woman).

Like, I've had to clean and grab trash from rooms while teachers are in it chatting with each other about like, going to their lake house or like talk about getting their home renovated or going out to brunch and they literally don't even acknowledge my presence except for to move their leg slightly so I can grab their trashcan. I've accidentally walked in on meetings and nobody even seems to notice. When I take out the trash I can sometimes see like, boxes of fancy cookies they got for the class that would cost a whole day's pay at least and fancy coffees that they just dump in the trash and leave me to clean up or food or office supplies that are perfectly good.

I do feel you on how its really interesting watching them interact and what they talk about and just look at their belongings. I don't think its weird to think its interesting and find them curious lmao.

I'm kinda used to being in this position of being seen as The Help (i.e. invisible). It feels to me almost like I'm some sort of rogue or spy, infiltrating some strange place of high society. But you know, instead of sneaking in the shadows killing people and gathering intel, I'm just walking in plain sight and cleaning bathrooms lmao. But hey, gotta try and keep my morale up somehow, I'd rather feel like an undercover rogue than an underpaid custodian lmao.

[imagines4thefandoms]

The Ramen Filth (Batfam x Reader)

requested: no

word count: 18k+

“Y/n what are your plans for spring break,” your best friend (Bff/n) asked as the two of you walked out of your last class.

“I'm going to go home actually. I miss everyone,” you told them.

“So no trip to Bora Bora, a week on a yacht,” they asked slightly pushing you.

“Nope, just me my brother, father, Alfred, and my bed,” you replied pushing them back.

When you guys left the building they went to their car while you headed to your dorm room. It always surprised people when they found out that you lived on campus. “You’re a Wayne. Why don’t you live in some penthouse in the city.” “Why are you slumming it here?” Well, you wanted the whole college experience.

When you entered your dorm room, you tried to pack your bags quietly so as not to wake up your roommate. But that didn’t work cause when you were grabbing some clothes and throwing them into a suitcase, she woke up.

“Excited to go home,” they asked you sitting up in bed.

“I haven’t seen them since August,” you replied searching around your room for your car keys. “So maybe a little.”

After you found your keys, you proceeded to gather the rest of the stuff you were bringing home with you. Your roommate got out of bed and went to grab a drink from the fridge. You looked over at her and watched her shotgun a bud light.

“Jesus (r/n) it's 2 in the afternoon,” you exclaimed throwing your computer bag on your bed.

“Well for me it's breakfast,” she replied grabbing a hoodie from their closet and grabbing their backpack. “Well off to class. Drive safe.”

You shook your head at them and waved them off, while you grabbed some snacks to enjoy while at the manor. After grabbing, your suitcase, computer bag, backpack, purse, and dirty clothes you headed out to your car. There was quite a long walk from your dorm to your car cause parking is hell but many people had already left so there was a straight shot to the car. You popped the trunk of your car and put everything in the trunk.

After getting in the driver’s seat and starting the car. You set up your fave Spotify playlist and started to head back home. The college you attend is just outside Gotham which your father kind of insisted. You didn’t really object. Sure you loved Gotham even with all the craziness it held but it has been nice being able to walk around town and not get mugged or have a city block shut down due to dad and the joker.

Once you crossed Gotham City limits, you kind of tensed up and double-checked that the doors were locked but once you were closer to Wayne Manor you started to relax. You really enjoyed the scenery on the ride home. It reminded you of when Dad first brought you home after your mother left you at GCPD with a note letting them know you belong to Bruce.

The Manor came into view and you saw Damian and Titus running around in the yard. You pulled up to the front door and Titus jumped at your door, either he was excited you were home or ready to attack you. Damian called Titus over to him then ran over to open the door for you.

“Sister you’re home,” he said in his usually monotone but this time he gave hug.

“I missed you to bud,” you replied hugging him back.

He helped you get your stuff out of your trunk and carried it into the house. You placed your suitcase and dirty closed by the front door while Damian brought the rest to your room. Jason was in the living room with Tim playing video games. Dick was either at work or in the cave training and the same could be said for dad.

“Honey I'm home,” you called out.

“Y/n,” Jason and Tim yelled running to give you a hug.

Jason tripped Tim in order to hug you first. Tim got up, punched Jason in the arm then gave you a hug. You missed this. Your annoying brothers. They didn’t give you time to breathe. They just grabbed your arm and pulled you over to the couch to play their video games with them. Alfred walked into the room and a smile appeared on his face when he saw you.

“Welcome home, miss. Y/n,” he said walking over to you to give you a hug.

“I missed you,” you replied returning the hug.

“I suppose you have something for me,” he asked letting you go.

“Yes sir, by the front door.”

Once Alfred left you decided to play a round or two with Jay and Tim. You were so in the zone of kicking their asses you didn’t notice when your dad came home. He just stood behind the couch and watched four of his kids play video games without a care in the world.

“Come one, you weren’t smart enough to see that coming college girl,” Jason teased as he was beating you.

“Prepare to die again Jason,” you said as you beat the crap out of him and killing him.

“You cheated,” he said throwing down the controller.

“No you just suck, Todd,” Damian said defending you.

Someone behind you coughs. You turned around as saw dad and Dick standing there. You got up from the couch and ran to give your dad a hug. After he left you to go, which took a while you gave your favorite older brother a hug.

“I missed you,” you said looking between your brother and father.

“Right back at ya kid,” Dick said ruffling your hair.

After giving your dad another hug, you returned to kick Tim’s ass this time. You kicked Tim’s Damian’s, Dick’s, and Jason’s ass (again) at the game before Alfred came in and announced that dinner was ready. Your stomach did like a backflip from the excitement of Alfred’s cooking. It had been a long time since you had a home-cooked meal; you kind of lived off ramen, cereal, and coffee for the past 9 months. You jumped with joy when you saw that he made (favorite meal).

“Aw Alfred I love you,” you said taking a seat at the dinner table.

The meal was delicious, no surprise there. After dinner, you caught them up on everything, even though you basically call home every day. Damian made a comment about how he missed having you around and Jason teased him about it which caused the two of them to fight. Tim got excited about the 24/7 library and coffee shop. That boy worries you sometimes. Dick kept asking about the security and how safe you are even though he basically interviewed every campus officer when you first moved in.

“This is nice and all but don’t you boys have a night job to do,” you asked getting up from the table.

“My daughter is home from college after 9 months. I don’t have to go out the boys have it,” your father replied.

“Daddy, i will be home for 9 long days. Go plus I was hoping you would so I could catch up on sleep. LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE DO,” you yelled the last part so Tim could hear. “Just wake me up when you get back so I know you're safe.

“Alright,” he agreed to get up and heading down to the cave.

“Be safe guys,” you warned them before they went down.

“Always am,” Jason replied which really didn’t sit well with you.

You asked Alfred if he wanted help cleaning but he declined the offer and told you to go to bed. Not needed to be told twice, you went up to your room and just plopped on the bed.

“I forgot how comfortable this bed was,” you said to yourself.

You decided that you needed to change into pj's, so you climbed out of bed and changed only to lay back on the cloud. Sleep took over about five minutes after your head hit the pillow and it was wonderful. But it didn’t last. You woke up and check to see what time it was. 2:19. Going back to sleep wasn’t going to work, so you decided to sneak downstairs for some late-night ramen. You grabbed the (favorite flavor) ramen from your backpack and then headed downstairs. It took a while to find the kettle cause Alfred is very particular about where things go but after you found it, you boiled some water and make the ramen. You were sitting at the table enjoying your snack when the lights came. You froze with noodles hanging out of your mouth when you saw that it was Alfred.

“What are you eating,” he asked disgustingly.

“Ramen,” you replied with a mouth full of noodles. He shook his head and grabbed the bowl.

“Hey give it back.”

“This isn’t food y/n. Do you eat this often while away at school,” he asked kind of scared of your answer?

“Only when I'm hungry,” you replied with a sweet smile.

“unacceptable. You will never eat this filth again,” he promised as he tossed the food in the trashcan.

“Hey, that was my last bag. And that filth is delicious.”

“No Wayne child will eat this especially under my roof,” he warned grabbing a pan and placing it on the stove.

“What are you doing,” you inquired.

“Making you a proper meal.”

“No the point of ramen is that it's not filling. I'm not that hungry I just couldn’t go back to sleep.”

He ignored your comment and proceeded to make your grilled cheese and tomato soup. Alfred placed the food in front of you and shook his head as he went back down to the cave. You had eaten half the ramen already and were kind of full but the grilled cheese smelled so good. So after eating basically a second dinner you went back to sleep. Being home was great.

The rest of your time home was just like you never left. You had a daddy/daughter date and helped everybody train. There was also a small family trip to the amusement park, which was amazing. Damian ate too much and threw up on dad. Best day ever. When it was time to go back to school, you hugged everyone bye and dad helped you pack your car. Before you left Alfred handed you two tote bags.

“Promise me that you will call if you need food. And never eat that filth again,” he warned you in his caring way.

You looked in the bag and saw that he and meal prepped for you. There was enough food here for the next week. Alfred always takes care of you.

“Thanks, Alfred. And I promise.”

Ever since then Alfred and made it his mission to drive up every weekend to bring you meals for the week. Sure it was kind of embarrassing, especially when he didn’t it in the quad during lunch. But you weren’t going to complain. Alfred’s cooking was amazing.

[kaijusmoocher]

And they both knew

A/N: Here you go, I present to you a tiny little Bartimaeus drabble because this series is was what formed me into the (sad) monsterfucker that I am today. The ending also gave me severe depression but we do not talk about it.  I always found the dynamic between Khaba and Ammet extremely interesting even tho they are both little garbage gremlins that deserve everything they got for treating my boy Bart the way they did. Unfortunately, I deeply resonate with Khabas desire to get rawed by a demon that could instantly kill me if he wanted to, so I can’t completely hate him. I wrote this blurb a long long time ago and I don’t like it that much tbh but content is almost nonexistent in the bartimaeus fandom so I decided to take one for the team and just post it. I hope my take on the relationship between the both of them and the knowledge that Khaba will inevitably die someday is enough to feed this starved fandom just a little bit. 

Pairing: flaming trashcan x sewer rat Khaba x Ammet

Warnings: None, light angst if you squint real hard or are as big of a baby as I am

Description: Ammet is plagued by the knowledge that his beloved master will someday have to pass away and Khaba wakes up to comfort him

Story under the cut!

Humans were destined to die. Every human knew it, and some of them tried to fill their useless little life with as many adventures and experiences as possible, and others just decided to wallow in despair, shaking in fear of the steadily approaching end. 

Ammet knew, too. He knew it better than most of the humans themselves, for he had watched the sun go up way too many times for him to count, had watched way too many empires bloom and then turn to dust. He knew, oh he knew that humans were fragile little creatures which could be crushed to death by as much as a puddle of his essence, and he know how easily they withered away because they had fallen ill, or because their bodies crumbled under the impact of time.

For the longest time, it hadn’t even concerned him, really. Rather, he had found pleasure in watching the light fade out of their eyes as they took their last breath, he had found comfort and glee at the knowledge that even his worst masters were sure to find their end. And when they found their end, he would still be there, watching. 

He knew. He knew way too many things. Knowledge was power, yes, and power was something he had in masses. However, after some time, knowledge didn’t satisfy him anymore. Rather, it made him careless. Who was he to even spare a thought when it came to these tiny little creatures, which thought way too highly of themselves? He would live on. He didn’t have to care. 

Yet, even with as much knowledge as he had collected over thousands of years, he couldn’t explain how he had ended up like this. 

He still remembered clear as daylight that one, faithful day when he was summoned. He remembered how he appeared in the pentagram, the smell of sand and dust. He remembered the voice calling his name, those onyx eyes staring straight at him, seeing him.

He remembered how he stopped for a moment as he studied the form of his master, a young, Egyptian boy. And the boy looked right back at him. Not a single sign of fear was visible, but much more curiosity. 

He remembered his first order, how they left Egypt, how they grew closer than human and demon should have. He remembered how – 

The warm body next to him shifted, and Ammet snapped out of his thoughts. His eyes flickered around for a second until they fixated on the eyes of his lover. 

Khaba was laying sprawled out on his bed, dressed in nothing more but a light cloth which was wrapped around his hips. His eyes were still dull and unfocused from sleep, but just like in Egypt many years ago, they seemed to see him. Not just his disguise, but rather his essence. The unwavering stare of Khaba caused Ammet’s essence to whirl around, to shift and trash like the ocean on a particular stormy day.

Entranced, Ammet stared at him, until the deep voice of his master once again brought him back to reality. 

“Are you alright?”

The marid shifted and reached out to brush a hand over Khaba’s cheek. He had chosen the form of a young man, with chestnut coloured skin, a lithe and agile body and dark eyes. When his cold fingertips met the smooth skin of his beloved’s face, another set of shivers assaulted his essence. 

Khaba’s eyes fluttered shut at the contact and he leaned into the hand. A soft hum escaped his lips as he took in the familiar scent of his lover, a mix of the smell of the ocean and the sickly sweet scent of a body that was about to decay. 

The magician opened his eyes again to see the marid still staring at him, and he decided to repeat his question. 

“Ammet, my beloved.” 

Cold finger tightened their hold around Khaba’s face and he raised his own hand to cup the shaking fingers. He gave them an assuring short squeeze as he slowly began to sit up, the mattress under him creaking softly in the process. 

“I don’t know.” 

Ammet’s voice was nothing more than a soft whisper, but Khaba heard him. 

They locked eyes once again and deep inside, they both new. They understood each other without words, their bond too deep. They knew, they understood each other, and the unspoken words hung heavy in the air. 

Khaba reached out to pull Ammet closer to him, and without a second thought, the marid gave in. They fell together as Ammet’s essence moved to cover him in the form of dark mist. Khaba gave a short grunt as he moved under him, and he lifted his hand to let it glide through the dark mist, and he felt the mass over him shudder in appreciation. 

Sometimes, Khaba was bothered by the fact that Ammet didn’t have a true physical form, but this was the closest it he could come to feel Ammet as a whole, as a being. But there was one thing that he could experience, even if it was for only a short time. 

“Let me hear your voice”, Khaba pleaded as he threaded his hand through the small tendrils of smoke. “I want to hear your voice, Ammet.” 

The marid over him cried out, in pain, in adoration, in anguish. It was a noise which oh so clearly showed that its owner had no idea what to feel and how to express it. Then, a booming, deep sound echoed in the small chamber. 

Even after hearing Ammet’s true voice a number of times, Khaba had no idea how to explain it. Ammet seemed to speak in every language of this world and yet Khaba clearly understood him. There were so many voices but at the same time just one, and its message was directed at Khaba and Khaba alone. 

“I love you”, it, they, he spoke, “I would be nothing without you”.  And Khaba knew, he understood. 

[auroracalisto]

poisoned words

soooo i totally have fallen in love with this character and it sucks that there are like five fanfics.  so on a caffeine fueled go-about, i created this.  also, i’m trying something different.  anytime there is a time skip or a time jump, i’ll include a gif.  i don’t know, i just want to see what it looks like!  hope you guys enjoy.  also can anyone tell me if they like my posts with more gifs or with less?  does it interrupt the flow of reading?  this post is an experiment of sorts so pleease, be sure to let me know. 

pairing: marcus pierce/cain x reader

word count: 2464 words and i am not sorry about it, either

warning:  uh, you’re totally poisoned in this.  and marcus is a BITCH but he comes around because you need some stability in your life, don’t you?  i think there might be a couple cuss words?  uhhhhh

“Shut.  Up,” Ella grinned as she stared you down.  

You just rolled your eyes, looking away from her as you leaned against the table.  Your arms were crossed over your chest.  “It’s not a big deal.  And I don’t want to hear you talking about it, either.  Got it?”

She just smiled at you, bouncing in her spot.  She was ecstatic to realize that her best friend was practically in love with their boss.  

“Are you going to tell him?  I think you should.  You never know unless you say something—“

“—I’m not going to say anything, Ella.  And please, don’t say anything, either.” Ella giggled and shook her head.  “I won’t.  I promise.”

She handed you a couple of files and waved you away.  “Go on.  Shoo.  I have work to do, and so do you.”

You rolled your eyes, again, and took the files before you took them over to Detective Decker.  

She looked at you with a hesitant smile.  “[Your name].  Am I glad that you’re here.  Look, I have to ask you something—”

Lucifer popped up beside of her with a grin.  “You’ve got to go undercover.”

Chloe shot Lucifer a look before she gave you an apologetic smile.  “Yeah, uh, I can explain.  Lucifer and I have canvassed the area.  You are just gonna have to be under the same roof with the Lieutenant for a couple of days until we can figure out who the killer is.”

You stared at her for a moment, sitting the files you held on top of her desk.  “What?  Uh, no one else can do it?”

“No,” Chloe said.  “I am so sorry.  And I’ll owe you big time.  But Lucifer and I will be out in a van the entire time.  So, you won’t have to worry about anything, okay?”

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, hesitantly nodded.  “Alright.  What case is this?  The cul-de-sac poisons?”  

Chloe nodded and pulled out a file, beginning to explain what was going on. Whoever it was happened to be very skilled.  To the point that this case was on its second week and they still had no idea who had been killing people in the neighborhood.  

Fast forward a couple of hours, you were sitting on the sofa in your newly rented condo, Lieutenant Pierce sitting across from you.  

It was quiet, for just a minute, before he spoke up.  

“Have you done many sting operations?”

You looked at him and raised an eyebrow.  “This your idea of small talk?”  You couldn’t help the blush that formed on your cheeks.  “Yeah.  When Chloe can’t, I usually step in to help.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything else.  

Around other people, it was far simpler to talk to the man.  But now that you were in front of him, alone, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.  Your heart practically clenched in your chest.  

None of this was going to go well.  

Five minutes of nearly total silence went by before there was a knock at the front door.  

“I’ll get it,” you quickly said, jumping up from your spot on the couch and rushing to the front door. 

A young woman stood there, holding a basket of muffins.  She had a kind smile on her face; the kind of smile that would make your heart melt when you saw it.

“Oh, hi,” you smiled, tilting your head.  “Um, can I help you...?”

She smiled.  “Hello!  It’s so nice to meet you, my name is Neveah,” she grinned, holding out the basket to you.  “I noticed that you and your husband were moving in and I just wanted to bring you a welcome gift.  They’re homemade.  I hope you don’t mind!”

You just smiled and reached out to take the basket.  “Thank you so much.  I really appreciate it.  My name is—my name is [Your nickname].  My husband is—”

“Marc,” Marcus said from beside of you, forcing a smile to the girl standing in front of you.  

Neveah pursed her lips when she saw him, but it soon returned to the smile she originally had.  “Well, I just wanted to give you guys a warm welcome to the neighborhood!  I’ll be seeing you around!”  Neveah waved and smiled once more before she left.  

Marcus moved to shut the door and lock it behind of her, while you took the muffin basket to the kitchen.  

You stared at it, debating for a moment.  They did smell amazing.  But you had to be careful.  You were on a sting operation for a string of poisons.  It probably wasn’t in your best interest to eat anything that was given to you.  

Marcus came into the kitchen and rose an eyebrow.  “What?”

“Mm,” you tore your eyes away from one of the muffins and you gave him a soft smile.  “Nothing.  We should probably just throw these away,” you shrugged.  “I, uh,” your eyes glanced towards the clock and you finally noticed the time.  “God, why did she come over so late?”  

You shook your head and sighed.  “I’m gonna go and take a shower...”

About an hour later, you came out of the bathroom with your pajamas on and a towel around your head.  You were, in other words, ready for bed and exhausted, to say the least.  

But you decided to go to the kitchen and find something to eat before you went to bed.  

You couldn’t find Marcus.  And you debated on eating a muffin or not before you finally just grabbed one that looked the best and took a hesitant bite out of it.  The muffin had a funny taste and you immediately sat it down.  You swallowed thickly, picking up another muffin and sniffing at it to see what it smelled like.  It had a similar smell to what you were tasting.  

“Shit,” you breathed out.  “Uh, guys?” you spoke into the walkie-talkie, hoping that Chloe and Lucifer were listening in on you.  “I think I figured out how they’re being poisoned.”

“What?” Chloe quickly replied through the walkie-talkie.  “What are you talking about?  [Your name], what did you do?”

“I took a bite out of a muffin.  I, uh, I’m fine, though, so don’t worry.  But whoever gave them to me definitely is our culprit—"

“Neveah,” Marcus said as he came into the kitchen.  “Wait, what did you say you did?”  

Marcus took one look at the muffin and he frowned.  “I thought you said we shouldn’t eat them.”

You sat the walkie-talkie down and grabbed the basket, throwing the rest of them away in the trash.  As soon as you were by the trashcan, a wave of nausea ran through you.  You reached up and pressed a hand against the wall, the back of your other hand pressing against your mouth.   “[Your name]?”

“I’m fine,” you frowned, calming yourself down.  You lowered your hand and were able to take your other off of the wall.  “I’m going to go and lay down…”  You took a couple steps forward.  However, you didn’t make it very far before you collapsed to the floor.  

When you came to, blinding lights took over your vision.  

You groaned, forcing yourself to sit up.  Pain ran through your body and a voice ushered you to lay back down.  

Chloe was in the room with you.  That was her talking to you.  

“We got the culprit.  It was that girl you talked to.  I don’t know how she knew you guys were cops, but… the good news is, she’ll be behind bars for life.”

You groaned softly and raised your hand up to your eyes, shieling them from the light.  

“Where am I?”

“The hospital,” Chloe said.  

“The Lieutenant…”

“Called for backup and for an ambulance.  Had he not caught you, you probably would have had a pretty serious head injury…”

You raised your arm, forcing yourself to look over and see the blonde.  “Really?”

She just smiled.  “Yes, really.  I am so glad you’re okay.  No more sting operations in my place, okay?  And no more muffins.”

“Agreed,” you groaned, taking in a deep breath.  “No more muffins.”

Nearly a week after you were poisoned, you had returned to work.  Ella had been worried sick about you, even though she had visited you every single day. Pierce had yet to say anything to you.  He just sent you these sad looks throughout the day.  Lucifer kept hitting you on the back, right where your muscles hurt the most.  But that was typical; nothing new, there.  

But, after a week of somewhat normalcy, you decided that you needed to talk to Pierce.  A part of you truly just needed to talk to him.  After your brief visit with death, the feelings you were having before the sting operation needed to be on the table.  

You walked up to his office and hesitantly knocked, wanting to chicken out.  If he said nothing, you would never tell him anything.  

“Come in.”

You felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach, but you opened the door and walked in anyway.  

“What can I do for you, [Your last name]?”

You pursed your lips before you walked further into the room, walking to the front of his desk.  “I… I need to talk to you about something.”

He looked up from his papers, just long enough to see how nervous you were.  

“No,” he quickly said.  

“No…?”

“I know what you’re going to ask.  And the answer is no.”

You stared him down for a moment.  The disbelief was written all over your face and you took a slight step back.  

“You’re not even letting me speak.  Lieutenant, please, I just need to get this off of my chest—”

“No, you need to keep it to yourself.  It will not happen, [Your last name].  I realized this when you nearly died from eating a damn muffin.  I will not subject myself to losing you after you did something so stupid.  If you did that, what more could you do?”  He stared you down, his eyes locking with yours as he spoke.  “Besides.  I am not relationship material.  It wouldn’t work out.”

“I didn’t thi—”

“—think?”  

He interrupted you.  

“You didn’t think, hm?  Isn’t that the problem, [Your name]?”

“I…  I just…”  

You looked away from Pierce and quickly left his office, not once looking back to see the look of pure regret that Marcus withheld from you.  

You rushed over to your desk and grabbed your coat and your bag, just leaving. You couldn’t be in that building any longer than you truly needed to be.  

Ella had messaged you probably about 100 times in the past three days.  She had sent memes, worried text messages, and text messages about how when she saw you again, she was literally going to beat you up.  Lucifer had sent one. And that was a lot, coming from him, especially because he genuinely seemed concerned.  Chloe had sent a couple as well, checking up on you.  No one knew what happened to you, except for yourself and Marcus.  But he hadn’t said a word.  

You should have saw it coming.  He acted like he didn’t need anyone.  Maybe that was true.  

You sighed as the sunlight peeked through your curtains.  You moved your arm above your eyes. You had to go to work, sometime.  But you didn’t know if today would be that day.  You just couldn’t.  

A buzz came from your phone as you finally forced yourself to sit up.  

Lieutenant Come open your door.

You why should i

Lieutenant Please.

With a groan, you hauled yourself out of the bed.  You looked at your appearance.  Disheveled everything.  Bedhead, bed clothes, dark circles under your eyes because although you had been mostly in bed the past couple of days, you couldn’t exactly sleep.  

You walked downstairs, trudging over to your front door.  

You didn’t even check the peephole to see if he was actually there before you opened it, revealing the Lieutenant.  

He frowned at the sight of you and he cleared his throat.  “How are you?  Are you okay, [Your last name]?”

You stared at him for a moment before the urge to roll your eyes came to you. “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave—”

“No,” he quickly said.  “No, I…” He frowned and watched you as he spoke. “I’m sorry, [Your name].  I think it’s time that I explain some things to you.  You… deserve to know why I acted the way I did.”

The thought of kicking him off your doorstep ran through your mind, but instead, you moved out of the way and let him in.  

“I’m sorry,” he said, frowning as you led him into the living room so the two of you could sit down and talk.  “I really am.  I just…”

The things he began to explain to you were unimaginable.  Angels, demons, God, they were all real.  And to ice the cake, Marcus looked at you and told you about his own upbringings.  He was Cain.  

And although this should have scared you.  Although this should have sent you running.  You only frowned at him.  

“So, you totally broke my heart in the middle of the precinct because you were afraid, I’d be scared of you?”

“No,” he frowned.  “I don’t want to see you die, just like everything else around me has.”

“Yeah, but,” you breathed out.  “What if there is a way for you to become mortal?  Or… or if there’s a way for me to become immortal?  Marcus, Cain—yeah, I’m gonna stick with Marcus for now—what if you lived?  For just a little bit longer?”

“And why would I do that?” he frowned at you.  

“I was hoping you would do it for me,” you weakly said.  “But I understand if you wouldn’t.  I’m not exactly the relationship type, huh?”

“[Your name]…”

Marcus let out a soft sigh before he closed his eyes.  “I am not promising anything.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

“If you die, I will never forgive myself.”

“I wouldn’t die by your hands, would I?”

“Absolutely not,” he immediately spoke, staring you down.  

“I mean, hey, you really hurt me, I gotta offend you somehow—”

“Alright, that’s not really fair, I was doing it for a good reason.”

You rolled your eyes and wiped away a couple of tears that had escaped earlier in your conversation.  “Yeah.  Whatever.”

“[Your name]…”

You looked up at Marcus with a frown, only to realize that he had moved to be right in front of you.  Without warning, Marcus, or Cain, leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours.  What he should have done, to begin with.  

[baby-grayson]

Dirty Little Secret| Intro | Ethan

Word Count: 1.4 k

Summary: Felicity, an otherwise plain girl with hopes of being a great writer, does one bold thing at a music festival. The thrill of her one bold thing comes back to bite her the next morning.

She was aroused by the wet cold of the bathroom sink against her bare thighs. His hands ran hungrily up and down her thighs, from the skin that her skirt exposed: the flimsy fabric riding up as she straddled him from the counter. His thumbs sank into her, as if trying to pin her down in front of him. From outside, the sound of guitars and screams were muffled by the sound of his hot breaths against her neck.  She craned, exposing more skin and letting him have access to her collarbone from under her thin tank top. His kisses were wet, he pressed his tongue against her skin like he was licking sweet honey: trying not to let a single drop escape from his lips. His hands pulled her closer: wrapping around her thigh and the small of her back to press her chest along his torso. She pulled at his hair, whimpering into his ear. Making desperate, low, sexual sounds. She didn’t usually do this so soon after meeting someone: much less on the counter of a public bathroom at the Semester Kick Off Music Festival. 

For a second, she felt a shadow of guilt as she tried to remember his name. Evan? No. Ethan? Yes, definitely Ethan and it felt very good to have Ethan’s tongue gliding down her neck and teasing the top of her cleavage. If her mind was clouded by idea the idea that hooking up with a stranger was wicked, all of her thoughts were swept away in the bodily storm that was Ethan. She dropped her hands down, hanging them from his back pockets as he leaned further into her and started his tongue back up to her mouth.  She took it gladly, welcoming his tongue by sliding her own across his and feeling nothing but naughty pleasure at the sensation of the hard bulge in his pants resting near her thigh. She pulled back from their kiss, his lips swollen and pink. He was heaving ever so softly and looking down at her: a single tank top strap had fallen to the side of her shoulder in his embrace. She licked her lips and darted her eyes down to his package. She played with her tongue in her mouth for a moment while his swollen lips turned into a smirk. 

Who knows what would have resulted, had a body not barreled through the bathroom door and wretched into a toilet stall.

Something about a stranger puking three feet away from her really ruined the mood of the one sexy tryst of her college career. 

She unhooked her hands from Ethan’s back pockets and sat up straight on the bathroom counter, erecting her posture. Ethan’s smirk turned into a small frown as she reached to pull up her fallen strap and realign her top to better cover her chest. She ran a hand through her hair, feeling the mess under her fingertips and looking up at him. 

He knew the moment was ruined. He knew he wasn’t getting it back. Despite everything that he wanted. His face tied strings of disappointment and frustration into a neat package of a gentlemanly facade.

She pushed forward on the counter and he stepped back, giving her enough room to dismount the sink and straighten her skirt. He looked in the mirror to analyze his own disheveled hair and the tease of his underwear peaking through wear she pulled his pants low. 

“That was uh--” she cursed herself for not having more experience, “that was good.” She mentally kicked herself, feeling awkward and unprepared for this moment. She wished desperately for an understanding of the feminine mystique, but instead she was only grossed out by the water from the bathroom floor seeping into shoes shoes.  “Yeah,” he moved in the mirror to fix his hair, “That--” she didn’t hear him finish his sentence as she swiftly pushed through the bathroom door..

She quickly found a trashcan to lean on, not minding the nauseating smell of vomit and booze in her delirious state. She felt a rush move through her, something invigorating. She felt like she had obtained the unobtainable for a girl like her: plain, average, and oh so blasé.

Making out with a stranger in the bathroom at a music festival was the most daring thing she’d done in 20 years. Not just any stranger, a hot stranger. She bit your lip and nearly moaned thinking back to it: she must have looked like intoxicated by something strong to a passing stranger.  “Felicity--Hey Felicity!” her friends called out from across the pavilion, worried by her sudden disappearance half an hour earlier. She darted her head up to find them, knocking her out of her trance. She shook her head, trying to find reality again from wherever her mind had wandered to when she was with Ethan. She bounced back to them, giggling and swaying with her dirty, little secret. 

She wore the high of the moment under her skin as a secret veil of confidence on the first day of school. After years of fading into the background, she’d done one bold thing. The feeling of his hands on her skin felt like too real a memory throughout the day. If she closed her eyes, she remembered what his voice sounded like against her neck. She remembered finger tips dragging along her inner thighs and his warm mouth at the start of her cleavage. She got goosebumps waiting in line for her morning coffee.

There was something addicting about feeling desirable.

The burn of the hot coffee on her tongue didn’t bother her as she nearly soared to the first class of her senior year in college. She flipped through her phone, scrolling across Instagram pictures of her friends on their first last day—she made a mental reminder to take a photo with the school mascot for fun. She considered searching “Ethan” blindly into the social network maze; if he was at the semester festival then he surely went to school with her, might even have some friends in common. But no, she decided not to search up her illustrious , seductive Ethan: he was best as a naughty, dauntless memory.

Looking down at a picture of her old lab partner and his roommates, her phone pinged with the first email of the semester. Her boots clacked against the pavement as she proceeded to stroll to class. She opened the email and read:

“Dear EN 4121: Shakespearean Rhetoric;

I am both sorry and elated to inform you that last night I went into pre-term labor. My newborn son, Matthew, and myself are doing wonderfully. But on account of my hospitalization, I have asked your TA to instruct today’s course-- and future courses hitherto. They will give you details, but I am expecting you all to pair up in preparation to critique each other’s very detailed analysis. I’m unsure of how long my maternity leave will be (likely at least the first half of your semester) but I am sure you are in trusty and faithful hands. I can’t wait to see all the excellent work that you do.

Regards,

Professor Clarissa Barnes”

She wondered if this was a good email or not. Barnes would supposed to be the toughest teacher around, but she was allegedly a hoot in class— acting out plays and using stuffed animals for props. She was weighing the development in her mind when she opened the classroom door and found a seat next to her  friend, Jasmine.

Jasmine immediately started chattering about her boyfriend Rowland and plans for the semester. Felicity brought her laptop out of her back and rested it on the desk, settling herself in and nestling her coffee cup at the edge of the table. She nodded along happily to Jasmine’s excited chatter. But Jasmine’s quick paced tone halted immediately when she noticed Felicity’s face, “are you alright?”

Her face has gone pale and she breathed in an unsure breath. Her left eye twitched. There was no way—this had to be a dream...or a nightmare. 

As Ethan turned around from writing “TA- Ethan Dolan” on the whiteboard he immediately found her in the crowd. His jaw formed a perfect o shape and he pushed his shoulders back, trying to feign professionalism. She was sure he recognized her when he muttered, “Oh God”

[captainjimothycarter]

steggy + 17 :) thamks !!!

this is just...so bad and it makes no sense

--

“That was incredibly stupid of you,” Peggy sighed out of her nose, all the while glaring down at the blonde curled up (to the best of his ability) inside of the wheelchair. “Not only was it incredibly stupid - what-what if you had gotten hurt, Steve? Worst than that! What if you had bled out and died in my arms?! What if-”

She only stopped her rambling, well-deserved rebuke when a car pulled up and Sam swiftly walked around to help load the scrawny bastard inside of the car. 

“I don’t think he’s listening to you,” Sam pointed out as they managed to buckle the guy inside. “Steve’s out like a light. The hell did they give him?”

“Enough pain meds to shut him up,” Peggy grumbled, walking around so she could sit in the passenger seat. Her arms folded across her chest as Sam got back behind the wheel and he started to slowly ease them back into traffic.

“You know...when you called to tell me Steve was stabbed outside of your bar, I wasn’t worried.” Peggy shot him a look and Sam’s shoulders shrugged. “Look, I was it’s just...Steve gets into these fights every day. Every other day. A stabbing? I thought it was just...well, it wasn’t real. That you or he were pulling my leg. I’m glad to see he’s okay. The doc say anything useful?”

“Plenty useful, I just don’t know if Steve heard any of it.” She sighed and rubbed a hand over her temples. Sam didn’t miss the show she glanced back to the slumped over blonde. “I was so worried when he started to...bleed out. I didn’t think. I used the damn trashcan lid he had and beat the guy senseless, stole his wallet, and took Steve to the hospital.”

Sam almost stopped the car for that one, making Peggy flinch. Her hand reached back to steady Steve and at least their driver had the decency to look apologetic. “I’m sorry - you stole the guy who stabbed Steve’s wallet?”

“Yes, and?” She raised her brow at him. “It was foolish and I wasn’t thinking, but I wanted some information on him to give to the police. I was more thinking of getting Steve to the hospital. Thankfully the doctors said it was a shallow wound and just required a few stitches and a hell of a lot of pain medication. He wasn’t even complaining of being in pain, just...just apologizing over and over again.”

“And the ranting earlier?”

“Me letting steam out since I have no idiot to punch.”

Sam sighed just as loud as she did, drumming his fingers onto the wheel. “Do I need to say it?”

“Say what?!”

“Carter, you ain’t stupid.” His eyes set on hers as they pulled into the parking spot outside of her apartment. “Steve might’ve been stabbed, but it was to protect you. Or the building. Or who knows, a three-legged kitten. Who’s to say why those idiots were fighting him. Either way, the kid likes you. He apologized because he knew it upset you. Don’t...don’t let this go and upset you even worst, okay? Steve is a brat sometimes, unmistakeably stubborn, but when he likes someone or is even friends with them, then he has a fierce protection streak.

That being said…” Sam shrugged and let a small smile fall on his lips. “He does like you.”

Christ, as if she didn’t know. Or worst, as if she didn’t like him enough as it was. 

She knew Steve was stubborn. No matter how many times she turned Steve away from her bar, not because he was annoying patrons or playing White Knight, but just so he could go get some sleep or take care of himself, he always found a reason to stay. They’d met at her bar months ago, when he stumbled in from the rain, claimed in some stumbling over the manner of his own words that he liked her bar. He’d found excuses to come back, despite he’d said he couldn’t drink. He stayed to protect innocent college girls from creepers, to make sure no one lingered around the bar to hurt her. To fill in for waitresses, chefs, even help her clean at night.

And by the end of the night, when they needed to go home, he always hesitated to say something. Once or twice, Peggy found herself so close to just grabbing him and kissing him. Instead, he’d stumbled out something about a good night before running away.

Just to come back the next day. 

“Don’t I know it,” Peggy sighed. “Frankly, I like him too. I just…” She shrugged slightly. “I should just ask him out already. Put an end to this dancing around. I don’t know what’s stopping me. My own reserve? Worry for...dragging him into the bar life? Fuck, he got stabbed because of me!”

There came the crashing guilt, the guilt and pain she’s put off for hours. That she was too focused on holding Steve’s hand, ignoring her own anxiety over the whole manner. Her fist slammed down onto her thigh and she found Sam’s arms tightly around her.

Damn this bastard and his ability to read her. Damn him for giving good hugs.

“I know, I know,” he purred, rubbing up and down Peggy’s arm as she cried into his shoulder. “Well, now you can ask him out once he’s not hyped up on some pain meds. Come on, I’ll help you get him inside.”

Sam was a good man, a good friend. She didn’t know what she’d do without him. 

“Are you sure you don’t mind taking care of the bar for a few days?” Peggy asked him after Steve was tucked into her bed, a glass of water nearby. 

“I don’t mind. I could do with the experience,” Sam mused, leaning into the doorway. “I promise I won’t let Clint drink all the beer.”

“Or Bucky,” she pointed out.

Sam’s lips broke out into a grin, pulling her up for another hug. “Take care of the kid, alright? Stubborn bastard.”

--

Sam was right. She’d danced around Steve for far too long and why? She wasn’t oblivious to her feelings for him. She liked him. Christ, in the right circumstances, she loved him. She loved to watch his eyes light up when they got to discussing art or even politics. She loved how opinionated he could be. How fierce he was in his opinions. How righteous he was. How he fought for the little people.

She loved how caring he was, paying more than enough food to give out to the homeless people nearby despite she did that out of her own pocket. She loved how he took care of old people and helped them with their groceries. 

Christ, she was in love with Steve and denied it the entire time. 

Maybe...maybe she denied it because she didn’t want him in this life. She sunk her whole savings into this bar, ran away from home, took the first job as a waitress in this bar, and kept it up and going until the owner signed it over. Now it was one of the best gay bars in town. It was friendly and open and while it was classified as a bar, she knew Clint and Angie next door ran the bakery and cafe to stay open just as late for those who didn’t like the bar scene.

She loved how Steve tried to be in both places at once to help.

Christ, she loved him.

It was Steve’s soft grunting that made her look up from pouring over the police files and the doctor’s notes. She turned around from the counter and frowned at the scrawny thing, in one of Sam’s borrowed shirts, hobbling to her. His face was flushed, with freckles standing out. He was covered in sweat and smelled like the hospital as he reached her.

She was stunned as he kissed her lips and Peggy sunk into it. 

Until it struck her. He was high on pain meds and possibly wouldn’t remember this.

“Steven?” She breathed, gently eased him off of her. “Are you okay? Why are you out of bed? Did you-”

“I love you,” Steve interrupted her. His face turned to the color of a tomato at this point. “I love you, Peggy. I-I heard you and Sam talking in the car. I love you and I”m sorry for everything. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you before. I’m sorry that I didn’t just come inside when you told me. I-”

He was silenced by her kissing, kept to a bare minimum given the fact he was still holding onto his side.

“How out of it on meds are you?” She asked, touching his face.

“I ain’t. I told you, I got a high pain tolerance, especially to drugs. They took the edge off is all.” His face was covered in sweat and he looked green as if to prove a point as he shrugged. “Pegs…”

“No,” she breathed, shaking her head. “Let’s get you cleaned up first, then we can talk.”

It took some maneuvering to get Steve back to bed and using a cool washcloth to clean the sweat off of his body. She inspected the sound to be sure no stitches were torn and breathed a sigh of relief when they weren’t. She retreated to the kitchen, just to bring back leftovers heated up for him to slowly eat.

“You worried me,” she told him, sitting on edge of the bed. “Worried isn’t even the word I can use right now. You...christ, Steven, I was terrified! I thought I was going to faint when you started to bleed out! I was so terrified that he-he had killed you! What made you do that?!”

“I heard him and his buddies threatening to kill you because you’re…” He stopped and swallowed the bite of fried rice. “Because you ran the gay bar. Let’s just put it that way. I didn’t think, that’s the problem and I think everyone in my life will agree I ain’t never had a thought in my life. I just...saw red. I know you can protect yourself but all I could do was...protect you.”

At least Steve looked almost ashamed but that’s not what Peggy wanted. She didn’t want him to be ashamed or guilty. She wanted him to just understand how close she came to losing him and how terrified that made him feel. 

“Steven…” She saw the way his shoulders squared in what he thought was a lecture to come, she was lectured out. “Look at me, darling, by no means am I...happy about this. I don’t need saving, but I am thankful for what you did. Beyond means that I can express. I am also so glad that you’re alive and okay and…” She took the empty containers and set them to the side, crawling up his frame so she could lay on his good side.

“And,” she continued. “And...I want...to go further...about us. We don’t have to talk about it now because we’re both utterly exhausted, but I’d...like to discuss it in the future.”

“Oh good,” Steve breathed, his cheeks flushing a bright pink. He tucked himself into her side, too tired to continue this topic of how wrong and right he was. “Because I like spending time with you.”

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

But? Damian Wayne • Tim Drake

Pairing: Older!Damian Wayne x Plus Size Reader, Tim Drake x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: you go through a lot because of Tim and Damian but in different ways.

Request: do you listen to asmr boyfriend roleplay (on yt)? Some of them would be great as fics.

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating, sexual innuendos, language, fluff, a very light mention of violence, light mentions of insecurity, is rain a warning?

A/N: the fact that every fic I’ve written for these characters has the same concept is very funny but I definitely see the appeal and the potential.

Based off these YouTube videos: one two three

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Replaying it didn’t make it easier to digest. After months of plans to move in together and talks about adopting a dog, Tim had broken up with you. He fell for someone else, a person he spoke about often.

She was a coworker of his, a gorgeous woman if anyone asked you. You could never blame him for falling for someone like her, she looked like a model and was a badass agent — it just hurt.

Now you were packing the belongings he kept at your place to send them to him with Alfred. It seemed like he couldn’t only break your heart and walk away, Tim also had to humiliate you. Out of respect, Alfred didn’t ask anything at all, he merely reminded you he was always available for you and wished you a good night.

The TV show playing in front of you wasn’t being processed by your brain. Curled up on the bed, covered with the duvet and a fuzzy blanket, you were desperately trying to conceive some sleep, for your brain to at least calm down so your head would stop throbbing and your eyes twitching.

Startled by tapping on the window, you were forced to swallow the mucus clogging your nose. Coughing, you rolled on the bed to asses who had disturbed you. Upon realizing it was just Robin, you begrudgingly left the bed to open the window.

He entered the room without saying anything, waiting for you to lock the window and close the curtains to take his domino mask off. He always did that, no matter how many times you told him no one would see him.

Damian stared down at the dozens of used Kleenex in the trashcan you kept near the bed. “Why are you upset?”

“I thought you knew...” your voice was strained, throat too tired due to the sobbing.

“I clearly don’t.”

“Tim dumped me for someone else.” Saying it in front of his brother was even worse than you had imagined. “Why are you here if it isn’t because I forgot to pack his brown jacket?”

Damian plopped down on your desk chair, staring directly at you, “patrol was boring and father is with Kyle again.”

Nodding, you went back to your spot on the bed, making yourself comfortable with a pillow on your lap.

“Are you tired?”

You were, but you didn’t want to be alone. “Not at all,” you lied so he wouldn’t dare leave. “Do you want to watch that movie you recommended to me last month?”

“Sure.”

Browsing through different streaming services until you found the film, you saw Damian take parts of his suit off in order to be more comfortable. Surprising you, he sat down on the bed, just beside you, once you had found the title.

You had to admit that paying attention was easier with him around, probably because you didn’t want to annoy him. The film did its job, you finally got distracted — you also fell asleep.

It became a routine, every night he would tap on your window and make you company. Some nights you would stay up until sunrise when you had to go to work, others he would be so tired he’d crash out on your couch, and a few nights you fully rested because his presence made you feel calmer.

Damian and you had never been too close, he and Tim had a complicated relationship and you didn’t want to have problems with your now ex-boyfriend. Now you hoped you had, he wasn’t what you had thought — Damian was nicer than every member of the family made him out to be, funnier, smarter, kinder. You genuinely enjoyed being around him.

He was extremely patient with you. He’d recommend you things to entertain yourself, let you vent when you needed, and without having to do it, would often make sure you had been eating properly because he had observed that between how much you had cried the days after the breakup, your job, and your lack of sleep you were low on energy. Damian had even spent an entire week helping you redecorate the apartment to cheer your spirit.

Being close to Damian meant spending time at the park with Titus, a shit ton of it, and trying new food every weekend, and visiting art galleries which had never been your thing. Being close to Damian also meant worrying because with all of his skills and abilities he was the most stubborn man you had ever met who often fought blindly just to end up in the Batcave's medical wing with a worried Alfred calling you to let you know your friend was hurt but alive.

Most importantly, being close to him meant feeling free to be yourself. You were sure no one would believe you, but it had never been truer.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Elevators had you tired, ironically. The only reason you hadn’t taken the stairs was that you were carrying a portfolio full of documents, a book bag, your purse, and a coat — everything was wet, just like you. Taking an umbrella would’ve saved you many nuisances, or not walking home from work, but you were too distracted in the morning to remember and now you were paying for it thanks to the rain that came with the nearing seasonal change.

You liked the rain, its sound was soothing, the smell made you aware of your own existence as it awakened your senses, you felt cleansed by it. A lovely thing to experience overall, just not after a long day of work.

Stepping out the second the elevator doors slid open, you took the keys out of your coat with your right hand. You let the straps of your purse slide down to your forearm as you flexed your arm while introducing the key in the lock, when it turned, you sighed out of relief and pushed the door open to finally get inside.

The lights were already on, sizzling echoed around the small apartment and a familiar smell of stir-fried vegetables hit your nose. You hung your coat, letting it drip as much water it naturally could before even daring to put it into the dryer.

Walking further into the apartment, you found Damian in the kitchen. He was wearing the comfiest clothes you had seen him on, sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt with only a pair of white socks.

“What are you doing in here with this weather?” you asked, taking a look at what he was cooking.

“I was bored.”

He always said the same, you always told him you didn’t believe him but he ignored it every single time. Patting his back, you announced you would get changed.

“Don’t take too long, dinner will get cold!”

As much as you were fine with Damian being there( and his cuisine,) you had to wonder why couldn’t he tell you his reasonings for his presence at your place. One thing was him visiting when you were there and another him practically breaking into your apartment — you were open to give him a copy of the keys, to be honest, but you would really appreciate it if he asked.

Dinner was delicious, shared over talk about your day. Damian was avoiding speaking about his day, about his entire week actually — in the past month and a half he hadn’t done anything close to that.

Sat on the couch in order to continue bingeing the show the two of you had started last week, you considered asking him what was going on with him. It partially scared you, the last time a member of that family had acted like that toward you they broke your heart.

Taking a deep breath, you threw your head backward to rest it against the edge of the sofa. Damian watched you, frowning. “Are you okay?”

You answered in a hum. “You?”

“Peachy.”

You moved around the couch, opening your eyes to stare at him. He stared back, the frown slowly disappearing from his face as seconds passed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you inquired in a timid voice.

“Father is planning on retiring.”

“Oh... are you taking over?”

“Yes.”

You couldn’t picture anyone but him doing it. Dick had been miserable as Batman, Jason wasn’t interested in being like Bruce after everything that had happened, and Cass was finally finding a balance in her life.

“You don’t sound happy about it.”

“I am.”

“But?”

He shook his head, “but nothing. It was a long day.”

For your mental wellbeing, you didn’t press on it. He was clearly hiding something from you but he had the right to do so. It made you feel bad but whatever.

The lights flickered, prompting you to groan. The storm was getting worse, the sky was rumbling with thunder and the lighting striking the city and flashing into the living room through the thin white drapes was as mesmerizing as terrifying.

You mumbled, “can you stay?”

“Yes.”

Damian walked behind you, holding the flashlight from his cellphone to light the path toward your bedroom. You undid the bed quickly so he wouldn’t have to hold the device up for so long, you were sure it wasn’t an inconvenience to him but you still didn’t want to bother him.

He sat down on the bed, just next to you, “I’ll stay here until you fall asleep, then I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“You can sleep next to me if you want.” You felt your face burn up the second the words left your mouth yet you meant them. Oh, you did.

You heard shuffling. Assuming he was taking his sweatshirt off to get into bed, you moved away from the middle of the mattress toward the farthest side from him.

Getting under the duvet, Damian laid on his back. His cologne mixed with his usual smell of vanilla and almonds filled your nostrils as he dropped his head onto the pillow with his arms crossed against his front.

“Dami?” you whispered. He hummed in acknowledgment. “Can you get closer? I’m cold.”

With no hesitation, he turned over in order to lay on his side. Throwing his arm around you from behind, “Is that better?”

You relaxed with your back against his chest, letting a content sigh out. Damian inhaled deeply, taking a whiff off you. He did it again then, finding the smell of your lotion soothing. As he relaxed too, his arm curled around you more comfortably with his hand laying on your plump belly. You placed your hand on top of his, a little nervous yet excited. Being held was a nice feeling, one you had forgotten.

He lifted his fingers, brushing yours. You intertwined your fingers between his, playing with them. He huffed a light breath, caressing the sides of your fingers as you played with his.

Turning around, you got lost into the ethereal way the light from the lamppost entering through the window illuminated Damian’s side profile. He opened his mouth to probably say something but you abruptly shut him up. You did know what overcame you, it was something that had been simmering in you for the past month — the need of being near him, the butterflies that swarmed inside you when he laughed, the peace he brought you. He surprised you by kissing back.

“Shit,” you exclaimed, realizing you had actually done it. “I’m sorry, I—“

“It’s okay,” he interrupted to assure you. He placed his hand on your lower back, leaning in again. “Can we do it again?”

You kissed him again, feeling him tighten his arm around you in order to pull you closer. He deepened the kiss too, prying your mouth open as you held his face in order to ground yourself mentally. Damian laid you on your back, pushing you into the mattress as he straddled you — his lips didn’t leave yours, not even as both of you whimpered while his hands trailed up and down your thighs and yours mapped his back. Full-on making out with your best friend wasn’t how you pictured your shitty day ending, but you weren’t about to complain.

Damian couldn’t keep his lips off your face, enjoying the softness of your cheeks under his mouth and seeing the natural twitches of your nose which made him realize you were actually awake. He hoped he hadn’t awakened you up.

“I thought you were asleep.” The depth of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. “Were you pretending?”

You hummed, “it was hard with all those kisses.”

“I wasn’t kissing you,” he said teasingly, using his index and middle fingers to lift your head in order to continue kissing your face. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did. You?”

He answered, “yes. The best in months.” It felt good knowing you weren’t the only one.

Damian hugged you close with both arms, exhaling happily, “you’re very warm.”

Hiding your face in his chest, you hugged back. You didn’t know what it meant, or the meaning behind the gesture of still cuddling in bed with the guy you had started developing feelings for mere weeks after breaking up with his brother. But it didn’t matter, you were comfortable in his arms and happy with seemingly having cracked his shell.

You had to ask, however. “Did I overstep last night?”

“No, I told you it was okay.”

“Oh, yeah.”

He pulled away enough to fully face you. You attempted to ignore him, shifting under his gaze. Damian licked his lips, “did I make you think otherwise?”

You shook your head, the sound the friction of the side of your face made against the pillow too loud for your liking. “I just... I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Is this ruining our friendship?”

You stuttered, “I— I think so?” You weren’t sure.

“I want to ruin it,” he stated, eyes fixed on yours, “more than anything.”

Your eyes dropped to his mouth as he said it, his full lips tempting you again. You were scared of the lack of guilt you were feeling, but you happily gave in. “Let’s ruin it, then.”

Smiling brightly, he dipped his face in order to kiss you. You were certain you would never get over his soft lips, the warmth of his breath, the firmness of his touch, his intoxicating scent, his silky voice... God, he truly had you smitten.

Nuzzling against your shoulder, he intertwined his legs with yours. “I don’t want to get out of bed yet.”

You giggled. “Then don’t.”

Damian decided he could do that, just cuddle his favorite person in the world until something came up, maybe.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

You had been typing on your computer, as music harmonized your den-office when the doorbell rang. Looking at the time to try and guess who could be visiting you on a Tuesday noon, you pushed yourself back, away from the desk, in order to stand up.

Dot, the Labrador you had adopted no long ago wiggled her tail from her spot near the couch as you crossed the living room. She loved laying there, she had a good view of the door and could jump on you the second you got home.

You regretted opening the door the second you faced your visitor. Tim Drake smiled timidly at you, “hi, (Y/N).”

“I— uh, hello?” You tilted your head, confused as to what he was doing there, who had given him the address and why had he thought he would be welcome.

“Can I come in?”

You lifted your index finger. “Just a second.”

Opening the guest-closet, you took a pair of slippers out and padded back toward the door. Tim looked down at the slippers you were offering to him, then at his shoes — as he did, he realized you weren’t wearing any footwear.

He complied, taking his shoes off and sliding his feet into the slippers. When he asked where to put the pair of footwear he had just taken off, you pointed to a mat next to the door, just under the key holders. You closed the front door as he dropped his shoes.

“Wow,” he exclaimed, eyes taking in as much of the space around him as possible, “your taste has changed! How long has it been?”

“A little over a year and a half.”

“We really need to catch up!”

You motioned for him to sit down on the couch. Dot curiously stared at him when he did so while you asked, “do you want anything to drink?”

“Coffee would be fine,” he answered just to have more time to examine the living room. It was extremely luxurious, with a vaulted ceiling and oversized windows.

Curious about the overall design of the penthouse, and how good your job had to be for you to be able to pay for such living arrangements, he followed you toward the kitchen where you were preparing his coffee. It was as full of luxury as the living room, with stainless steel appliances, granite counter-tops and a breakfast bar the size of your previous apartment’s entire kitchen.

“How have you been?” He asked, sliding his palm against the marbled breakfast bar.

“I’ve been great.” You gave him a tight smile, placing the sugar bowl onto the bar.

“I’m glad. How’s your family?”

“They’re great, thank you.” Out of courtesy, you asked, “how have you been?”

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, “well, after I abruptly broke up with you, from which I’m very sorry because I was a dick, my girlfriend broke up with me too...”

“I’m sorry.” You genuinely felt for him, being dumped out of the blue wasn’t something you wished upon anyone. Pouring coffee into a mug, you handed it to him.

“It’s okay,” he smiled openly, nodding as a thank you for the coffee and dropping a couple of spoonfuls of sugar into the beverage, “I’m over it. I moved to Europe when Bruce said he needed someone to supervise the branch of the company there, the drama wasn’t good for my spirit.”

“Why are you back? It’s not like Gotham has changed.”

“My best friend is getting married.”

You hummed, finding estrange that you hadn’t been invited to the wedding.

“You have a new boy or anything?”

You stuttered, dropping a teabag into a cup, “perhaps.”

“Come on, (N/N), tell me! I won’t get mad.” He deviated his gaze. “I’m over you and everything.”

You confessed then, pouring hot water on top of the herbs, “I am dating Damian.”

“Which Damian?”

You waited for your ex-boyfriend to swallow the sip of coffee he had just taken and took the opportunity to have a sip of tea to calm your nerves. “Wayne,” you explained.

“You’re dating my little brother?!” He whisper-shouted. You simply nodded. “For how long?”

“Eleven months.”

“So what? You ran into his arms as soon as I broke up with you?!”

You didn’t appreciate the tone he was using or what he was insinuating. Definitely not when he had cheated on you without for once thinking of sparing your feelings.

“Damian was there for me when no one else had the time, it just happened.”

“I thought you were going to stay away from my family,” he reproached you.

In all honesty, you had thought the same thing. As much as Alfred had told you to call him if you needed anything when he went to pick up the belongings Tim kept at your place, you hadn’t planned on doing it — but that same night, when Damian arrived, tired after a long patrol, and playing dumb by saying he had just dropped by because he was bored you decided you didn’t have to, you didn’t want to. Eventually, you evolved, as many things had after that night, not for Damian nor because of him but next to him, with his patience and support.

“I can’t believe you,” he shook his head.

“I thought you were over me.”

“I’m not jealous! But you deserve better than him — you’re so pretty and nice and he’s selfish and mean and depends on Bruce for everything.”

That didn’t sound like Damian at all. “Maybe you don’t know your brother.”

“You’re telling me he’s changed? Because I don’t believe it.”

You couldn’t be a testimony of Damian’s change when you had never seen the version Tim described, but you could definitely say Damian was everything you had always wanted in a partner and more — he was what you needed, what you loved.

“You still can do way, waaaaaay better than him,” Tim interpreted your silence as a confirmation of Damian’s change.

“Like who, Timothy?”

“Like me!” he exploded, clenching his eyes shut for a couple seconds to control his breathing. “I’ll go straight to the point: I miss you. I came back to get you back, there’s no wedding. I was too stupid to see what I had when I had it, I know, but I’ve changed,” he assured, “I have a new philosophy, I’m surrounded by better people. I’m not blind anymore.”

“Neither I am.”

He ignored your comment and went on, “let’s just start again. In another country, a new house. We’ll adopt as many puppies as you want!” Tim took an envelope out, “I have two plane tickets here for tomorrow. One is yours.”

The front door unlocked loudly, prompting both you and Dot to crane your necks in order to stare at it. Damian pushed it open, shoes in hand and blazer draping over his forearm.

You saw him focus on the pair of shoes on the mat for mere seconds before Dot happily wiggled her tail at him as she approached him. Damian threw his blazer to the nearest couch, quickly undoing his tie which followed suit, before hunching down to pet the little dog.

Out of habit, you left the kitchen to walk toward him and greet him. He stood back up, naturally towering over you and kissing you softly, “hello, beloved.”

You giddily smiled, forgetting you weren’t alone, “hi, handsome. I missed you.” Wrapping your arms around his waist, you inhaled his scent. God, you had truly missed him. Sleeping without him wasn’t the same, nor having to rely on music or the tv for the place to not feel alone. Two days of not hearing his voice not waking up tangled up with him were too much sometimes.

Damian put his hands on your waist, sighing at finally being able to touch your soft body again. “I missed you more.” He leaned downward, placing his lips on yours again.

“(Y/N),” Tim pleaded from behind you, making you jump.

Damian parted from you, looking past your shoulder and directly at his brother. “Drake. What are you doing in here?”

You stepped to the side, opting for opening the terrace’s door so Dot could have some fun outside. In the background, as you leant against the doorway and watched the little dog sniff the terrace, you heard Tim say Alfred had given him the address. Oh, sweet Alfred, always trying to keep the family together.

Turning around, you saw them both sit down in front of each other in the living room. Trying to keep them from fighting, you walked back into the room and sat down next to your boyfriend.

Tim immediately told you, “please don’t throw it all to waste for him.”

Both Damian and you frowned. He put his hand on your thigh, like he had done the first time he had taken you to a business dinner as his date, like he had grown used to do under any table. It was your favorite gesture, he wasn’t a big fan of PDA but he still made sure to always be touching you — the fact that he loved your thighs when you had always been insecure due to their size was a nice addition.

“I’m over you, Tim. Damian is my boyfriend, and with who I want to be.”

“He’ll never love you like I do, he can’t.” Tim’s tone was the harshest you had heard from him.

He was right, though. Damian would never love you like Tim did, that was the whole point. You didn’t want what Tim had to offer, the kind of love he could give — you were past that, you had been for a long time now and it felt amazing.

Tired and spent, Damian hugged you extremely tightly while cuddling that night, almost to the point where you struggled to breathe. Wiggling in his arms in order to turn around and face him, you wrapped your arms around him as best as you could.

“What’s wrong, Dami?”

“Nothing.”

You dropped yourself onto your back, struggling to bring him in but ultimately succeeding. Damian sighed, shifting to be more comfortable as he laid his head on your bare chest.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. Damian inhaled your scent, sighing in content — he was in his safe place. “I sometimes forget not everyone sees me the way you do.”

You supposed he was referring to Tim’s assumptions about him. “Does it bother you?”

“Only when they use it to try putting you against me.”

“You know they would never succeed, right?” You needed him to be aware of that.

“I do.”

“But?”

He moved to hover over you, fitting his legs between yours as he propped himself up with his elbows. “But it’s different when your ex does it. And no, I’m not jealous, I do trust you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. You understood what he meant, perfectly so. Damian had been there to pick up the pieces, he had helped you glue them together and even taught you to tweak them so the final piece would look better — with that, beautiful things had bloomed, but in between many tears had been shed on your behalf and many confessions had been made regarding your feelings in general; sprinkle in how hard it had been to process the fact that you had fallen for each other and you could understand where he was coming from. There was a piece of Damian in you, and there was a piece of you in him; at every level.

“It’s not relevant anymore, love,” you reminded him.

Damian caught your lips in a tender kiss, humming. “I just wish he wasn’t back.”

“He’ll be gone by tomorrow. And if he isn’t, I don’t care.” You started playing with his hair, unconsciously running your fingers up and down through his locks. “But I don’t want you to have a bad relationship with your brother because of me.”

“We’ve spoken about that.”

Damian had never been able to get along with Tim, his relationship with Dick was great and he had even built one with Jason, Cass was his favorite, and he had gotten to meet with Helena a few times. However, his resentment toward Tim heightened when you two started frequenting each other — he seemed to now despise him.

You tilted your head to pepper kisses over his jaw. “You’ll manage, Damian. You ignored him for years.”

Your boyfriend sighed dramatically, letting his weight gradually fall on top of you. Placing his hand on your cheek, he smirked before burying his face in your neck. “Besides,” Damian mumbled, “he’s not the one keeping you up tonight.”

[pips-fics]

ask: if it isn't too much I'd like to request a fic where minho catches the flu and is so spaced out he starts talking in third person please and thankies,, love your writing btw !!

and here it is!  a weird tone for this one and it may or may not have turned into a changlix fic (low-key!) and i’m not mad about it?  anyway, hope you all enjoy! :)

——

the members of stray kids had endured many long days, days that started far too early in the morning and ended far too late at night for any sane human being.  and yet, this had been a long day even for them.  longer for some than others.

in particular, minho had woken up at 1 am with a fever, the stomach flu, and a desperate need for a toilet, and he hadn’t been back to sleep since.  arguably, though, the day had been even longer for changbin, and he’d woken up at noon.

the problem is, he’d woken up at noon and immediately been placed in charge of keeping an eye on minho.  and felix, apparently.  heaven knows what kind of karma he must’ve accrued in his previous life to deserve this.

officially, felix was supposed to be helping changbin out, but all he’d done so far was cover his ears and hide when minho puked and encourage whatever nonsense the sick boy had been spouting all day.

“changbin-hyung!”  changbin was currently hiding out in the bedroom, trying to get a break from babysitting.  “changbin-hyung, minho-hyung looks green again!”

changbin groaned loudly, stood up, opened the door, and was met with felix’s panicked face.  minho was draped over the younger boy’s back, completely limp.  felix’s voice was high-pitched.  “changbin-hyung!  help!�� please.”

“oh for the love of— felix, why did you bring him here?”  frankly, it was astounding that anyone had thought felix would be any sort of assistance in this situation - and that includes felix himself, because he was indeed the one who insisted on staying back and “helping” today while they others went about their various schedules.

a sweet thought, changbin acknowledged, if thoughts were what actually counted.

“but you’re here!”  felix protested.  changbin resisted the urge to palm his own forehead.  instead he put a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder to encourage him to turn around and go back the way he came.

“let’s just get him to the bathroom as soon as possible.”

“minho feels sick.”  felix and changbin froze, starting at each other.  neither of them had said that.  changbin placed the back of his hand on minho’s head and was unsurprised to find it warmer than it had been all day.

“what was that, hyung?”  felix asked quietly.  this time minho didn’t respond, his head hanging down, eyes closed, snoring softly.  changbin shrugged.

“whatever, let’s just go before he wakes up and makes a mess.”

felix nodded his head in vigorous agreement and let changbin assist them (the younger boy was nearly collapsing at this point).

the dorm was a mess, changbin noted as they made their way through it.  the couch was in shambles because minho liked to take the upright cushions off.  there were tissues all over because minho didn’t have energy to find a trashcan, apparently even if it was directly next to the couch he was laying on.  there were dirty dishes and also clean ones on the counter and the ground (why?  changbin didn’t know) and frankly it was rather fortunate that seungmin wasn’t here right now.

the bathroom was even worse than the rest of the dorm, but it wasn’t worth cleaning until they could fully dispel the overwhelming smell of vomit, which wouldn’t happen until minho was feeling better.  the sick boy remained sleeping after being laid gently atop a pile of pillows and blankets on the ground - they’d spent so much time in there, they figured it was worth making it comfortable.

changbin and felix relaxed a bit as well, the younger boy sitting close to the door so that he could make a quick escape should minho’s stomach act up suddenly.

“do you want to nap, too?”  felix asked earnestly.  changbin could feel his heart thawing.  squeamishness aside, felix really was an angel.  

“are you sure?”  changbin knew the answer before he even heard it.

“yes!”  felix squeaked, almost excited.  “i know i haven’t been very useful up until now, but i’d like to do something.  i know you were up late last night working on stuff.”

he had been.  it actually wasn’t common for changbin to sleep as late as he had today, but he hadn’t returned to the dorm until 4 in the morning, and had continued working until the sun had well past peeked through the windows, probably not sleeping until around seven or eight o’clock.

permission granted, he fell asleep within a minute.

he woke up to felix making a noise that could really only be described as shrieking.

“what?!  what’s happening?”  changbin sat up way to fast, trying to wipe drool from his face and instead punching himself lightly in the jaw.  his eyes gradually found felix, gradually found what he was screaming about: a splotch of vomit on his shirt.

changbin sighed, turning back to minho.

“really?  you puked on him?  you had one job—“ changbin had been joking (half joking, maybe), but he stopped suddenly upon seeing tears in the sick boy’s eyes.

“minho’s sorry!”  the eldest whined pitifully.  “minho didn’t mean to make a mess!”

“uh… hyung…” tears started falling and changbin did everything he could to not just sit there in stunned silence.  “hey, don’t cry, it’s okay.”

“minho feels bad,” the sick boy cried.  changbin gently helped him lean over the toilet.  “doesn’t wanna be sick!”

“it’ll be okay, hyung, you’ll be alright.”  seeing that minho wasn’t going to be sick immediately, changbin turned back to felix, who was breathing hard but otherwise seemed to be frozen in place.  “lix, do you think you can get that shirt off on your own?  you can wipe up the mess with a towel first so there’s less risk of it getting on you.”

felix nods robotically and changbin wishes he could do more, but minho starts retching just then.  throwing the youngest an apologetic look, changbin refocuses.

“that’s it, get it out,” he encourages.  watching minho cry is a completely surreal experience.  up until now, changbin had hardly heard him whimper.

“minho doesn’t wa- hck,” minho gags.  “doesn’t wanna be sick!”

“i know.”  changbin can’t think of anything better to say, so he sticks to gently shushing the older boy as he begins to heave up what little remained in his stomach.  a handful of heaves and a large shudder later, he’s pulling away from the toilet and leaning his full weight against changbin.

“minho’s tired,” he mumbles.  changbin flushes the toilet and helps minho to his feet.

“let’s get you cleaned up and then you can sleep.  sound good?”

minho just nods.  after that, he keeps quiet, entirely worn out and seemingly feeling a bit better.  he even drinks a few sips of water when felix returns, only slightly traumatized, with a water bottle.  by the time they get him tucked into bed, he’s out like a light.  changbin is nearly there, too.

“how long did i nap for before, by the way,” he asks felix when they’re snuggled up in the bed next to minho’s.  felix has a new shirt on and he snorts at the question.

“about 2 whole minutes, hyung, i don’t even know how you fell asleep so fast.  or how you’re still awake now!  get some rest already!”

changbin doesn’t need to be told twice.  he’s well on his way to dreamland when he mumbles, “thanks, lix,” and he won’t remember if he actually said it later, but he knows felix will get the message either way.

——

feel free to send more asks!

[evalinkatrineberg]

Practice Prompt 2

A/N: The dialog with @idaliamoretti and @lady-indiana comes from an rp we did earlier today :)

The knock on my bedroom door made me jump. As quickly as I could, I tugged the white shirt I was holding over my head, still pulling down the hem with one hand as I made my way to the door, opening it with my other.

My father was standing in the other side of the doorway, his car keys in hand. “Proctor wants you to come in and help her out with something today.”

I frowned. I had done a research assistantship with Professor Proctor during the spring semester, after taking her course on genetics in the fall. I loved the work I had done under her, though it was mostly just looking at certain chromosomes under a microscope before and after she had altered the sequence of nucleotides, and comparing how the images varied. Either way, it had gotten my name out there as her assistant on the papers she published, which was certainly something. I definitely couldn’t be credited with most of the work or writing though.

“Why?”

My father shrugged, already walking away from the door. I tied the fabric belt of my flowy black pants in a bow, and began to follow him down the hallway. It wasn’t like Professor Proctor to spring work on me unannounced like this, especially when school wasn’t even in session anymore.

My father made his way immediately to the door when he reached the bottom of the staircase, picking up his work bag, which was already leaning against the shoe rack. He tapped his watch twice, raising an eyebrow in my direction.

“I haven’t even had my coffee yet,” I protested.

“You should’ve gotten up earlier.” My father only shrugged as I grabbed my purse from the hook next to the shoe rack.

“I woke up at the same time I always wake up.” Not a lie. My early morning routine had been the only thing that remained constant these past few weeks. Between capital officials calling or visiting in person, and family members I barely remembered trying to get in touch with me, altogether consuming my every waking moment, my life felt like it had been the unfortunate victim of a hit-and-run accident.

“Not even at the palace yet, and already developing an attitude,” my father noted, holding the door open for me. “That’s not a good sign.”

I sighed, opening the passenger side door of his car the moment two chirps confirmed it was unlocked. “Sorry, I’m just kind of confused and concerned as to why Proctor wants me to come in today.”

As he got in the car himself, he handed me his work bag and nodded, the only sign that he had even heard what I said. He was a man of few words, my father. Always blunt and to the point, he got what he needed to get done done, and didn’t waste people's time with niceties and polite chatter. That part of socializing he left to my mother. It was also probably a big part of why the officials from the palace preferred to have her around when they needed me to sign something, rather than my father.

My absolute favorite moment from the past few weeks had been the time that some official or another had called from the capital, and my father, fed up after a long day at work, had picked up the phone and just yelled, “What? What do you want?” He had then paused, as whoever was on the other line said something, and then calmly, he had said, “Oh, Evalin, it’s for you.” My mother had been absolutely mortified, and had taken the phone out of my hands to apologize profusely to the capital official on behalf of my father. I had found it hilarious, however, and had to leave the room at one point, unable to contain my laughter any longer.

“She probably just needs your help.”

Thank you, Captain Obvious, I thought. I bit my tongue, though. Fighting with my father wasn’t worth it. It never was, but especially not now that this would be our last full day together for a while.

So we continued the rest of our ride in silence. The streets were just beginning to fill with other vehicles as we hit the main roads. I kept my eyes on the cars passing by as I thought about the upcoming Selection. Today really was my last full day in Knoxville. I didn’t know whether to be sad about the fact that I kind of hoped I wouldn’t be back for a while. I would miss my family, sure, but I couldn’t deny that no matter which way the Selection went, it was going to be a life changing experience. I was going to learn and grow from it, and for once in my life, not in the traditional classroom-learning sense.

This could possibly be the last time I was setting foot on this campus, I realized, as my father parked his car. This might be the last time he drove me here, the last time we hugged in the lobby of the biology building before heading down separate hallways, the last time I had to smell the brine of the oyster labs as I passed by them on the way to Professor Proctor’s laboratory. Had I taken all these things for granted?

I swallowed once before walking into the lab, refusing to let myself dwell on all the what-ifs. I was done with what-ifs. The here and now, that was real, and that involved finding out what Proctor needed me to do for her.

My professor was standing in the corner of her laboratory, flipping through the pages of what appeared to be an old book with maroon leather covers. The book itself looked like it was shorter than most normal-sized books, but maybe that was just the angle I was looking at it at. Or maybe most of my time had been consumed by textbooks and official documents the past few months.

“Good morning, Professor,” I said by way of greeting, holding on to the door as it closed behind me to make sure it didn’t slam. “How are you?”

Professor Proctor looked up from her book, shutting it with one hand as she smiled at me. “Good morning, Miss Berg,” she said, her eyes twinkling as she pushed some gray hairs behind her ears and readjusted her glasses. She might be old, but she was no less wise than she had been when she had published the results of her first independent study when she was just twenty-two. I had been ecstatic when I learned that she would be teaching my genetics lecture last fall. I mean, this was a woman whose tenacity and intelligence had always inspired me. I had literally done projects about her in elementary and middle school.

“Or, should I say, Lady Evalin?” One corner of her lip tugged upwards.

I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks as I hung my purse on the coat rack by the door. “That really isn’t necessary, Professor.” Then, turning back to face her, I added, “My father said you wanted me to come in today?”

“Yes.” She began to move towards one of the microscopes, placed on a low lying lab table towards the front of the room. She pulled out two chairs, facing them towards each other, and motioned for me to take the one opposite of her. As I complied, she explained, “I wanted to talk to you before you left.”

That was right - I hadn’t been able to see her since the announcement was made on the Report. My research period with her was over once the spring semester ended, and with all the craziness of the Selection going on, I hadn’t made time to come to campus and seek her out myself.

“Thank you, Professor, for making time for us to talk. I’m sure your schedule must be busy after the release of your latest findings.”

She smiled at my reply. “It may be, but science does not stop and wait for the media circus. There are always new discoveries to be made. The world keeps turning.”

I felt my blush deepen at her clear jab at the Selection. Oh, God, she must have been mad. Or maybe my father had paid her to give me the lecture that he couldn’t bear to give me himself.

“With that in mind,” she continued, “can I ask why on earth you decided to enter yourself in the Selection?”

Oh yes, here it was.

I decided to start with a joke, laughing nervously as I asked, “Did my father put you up to this?”

“Oh, good! He’s already given you this lecture! Now, I don’t have to!”

I sucked on a tooth. That hadn’t gone according to plan, but I decided not to correct her. Professor Proctor gave amazing lectures, but they were always long-winded and strongly worded, and I wasn’t sure I could handle one at the moment. I still hadn’t even had any coffee yet. “I understand that by participating in the Selection, I am putting my education on hold, but this could be a great opportunity. Think about it - if given a position of power and influence, I could promote the inclusion of more women in science!” It definitely wasn’t my primary reason for going, but it was better than admitting my childhood crush on Prince Arin to my professor.

She waved a hand through the air. “The Princess Safiya is already a woman in science herself. You’re more useful here, studying and publishing research to enhance our knowledge of the human genome. By throwing yourself at the shoes of some spoiled boy, you might as well be throwing all of your intelligence and hard work in the sciences into a trashcan, lighting that trashcan on fire, and then kicking it down a flight of stairs.”

I nodded ever so slightly, brows furrowing as I attempted to think of something I could even say in response to that.

The professor saved me from having to respond, though. She clucked her tongue. “None you worry, though! Your time at the palace won’t be a complete waste!”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” I replied flatly. I didn’t know why I was so irritable lately. First the almost-fight with my father, and now this. Was the stress of the competition getting to me already?

“How were you at history, Miss Berg?”

I pursed my lips, thinking back to high school, picturing the marks I had gotten on my exams. “It was my best subject out of the humanities and social sciences. I think a lot of my success had to do with my memorization skills.”

“Good.” Professor Proctor nodded, leaning back in her chair. “So you are aware, then, that Illea did not always exist as a country. Not as it does now, at least.”

“Yes,” I answered hesitantly. Where was she going with this?

“So, then, the Illean caste system, as it exists currently, could not have always existed, right?”

Alarm bells were ringing in my mind. “Yes, but -”

She cut me off. “Tell me, Miss Berg, have you ever dreamed about pursuing another career? Something besides biology?”

Wasn’t that what I was doing by participating in the Selection? Wasn’t that we she was just about to lecture me about before?

I studied the woman across from me. How could she sit there, so relaxed, not a tense muscle in her body, and talk about such things? She was like a spider with a fly already trapped in its web - all she had to do was watch. She had the power to strike at any moment.

“I used to dream of being a ballerina,” I admitted, “but I was four years old, and they were just that - dreams!”

“But what if there was a world where your dream could become a reality?”

“Well, that would require for me to have advanced physical coordination skills, which I don’t,” I stated, staring at her point-blank, my face relaxed. “That fact has nothing to do with the history of Illea.”

A casteless society. Was my professor really hinting at a casteless society? It was downright treasonous of her to be doing so, and bold of her to speak so freely of these things in front of somebody who would be inside the palace tomorrow.

“That’s neither here nor there,” Professor Proctor reprimanded, waving a hand through the air again. “The point I’m getting to, though, is that I have a proposition for you.”

I raised an eyebrow at her, letting out a scoffing laugh. “Okay, what is it?”

“I need you to write me letters while you’re at the palace.”

I frowned. “That’s it?” I had already been planning on writing my family and June, and maybe even Lukas, though I doubted he’d want to hear about the drama that was bound to ensue. I supposed I could add Professor Proctor to the list as well, though I found it highly unlikely that she would want to hear about the drama either.

“Yes, but not just any letters.” Here it was. Here came the catch. “I need you to get information about the plans the government have against the rebels and the abolitionists.”

“No.” The word came out of my mouth before I could even think, before I could even fully consider her proposal to me. “I won’t do it.”

She sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that. I’d hate to have to do this Miss Berg, but if you don’t send me those letters, I will make sure you never work in the field of biology again.” Her eyes narrowed as mine went wide. “If you want a research assistantship after your time gallivanting at the palace is over? You won’t get one from me, or any of my colleagues. You want to get into graduate school when this is all finished? Good luck doing it when no accredited institution worth a grain of salt will accept you.”

I shook my head, standing up and pushing my chair back under the lab table. “Treason, and blackmail,” I hissed, my voice wavering slightly, in spite of my desire for it not to. “I don’t care if you never let me work with you again. I don’t want to.”

“Think carefully on my offer, Miss Berg,” she instructed, not even moving as I made my way across the room to grab my purse. “I won’t hold this little outburst against you.”

I stopped in front of the door, my hand hovering over the doorknob as I looked over my shoulder at her, the woman I had spent most of my life aspiring to be, one last time. “You disgust me.” I shook my head again. “I’ve lost all respect for you.”

I opened the door, flinging it wide as I began to walk down the hallway.

She called after me. “What do you think your father has in your attic, Evalin?”

The door slammed, cutting off anything else she might say. I hurried past the oyster labs and up the stairs, blinking away tears as I made my way into the main hallway. Was I crying? God, I needed to get myself together.

I ducked into the ladies room on my left, right before I entered the main atrium, and threw my stuff down on the sink counter. After splashing some cold water on my face, I considered my possible next steps. My mother was at work, so I couldn’t ask her to come get me, and my father was up in his lab, which meant his phone was in his locker, and he wouldn’t be able to check it until the end of his workday. That left one person with a car that I could call.

June picked up on the second ring. “Hello, Evalin!”

“Hey, June.” I reflexively put my hand up to my free ear, covering it, even though the bathroom was silent. “What are you up to right now?”

“Running errands,” she replied. Indeed, if I listened closely, it did sound like she was in her car, not on a crowded street, but still definitely driving.

“Could you possibly come get me along the way?”

She cut me off before I could even tell her where I was. “I wish I could, Ev, but I’m on a bit of a time crunch!”

I heard someone mumble in the background - a distinctly male voice, and familiar at that. Was that Lukas? I blanched, putting two and two together. Oh my God, were they hooking up in June’s car? Was everyone I knew breaking a law today?

“No worries,” I assured her, my voice breathless and a little shaky. “I’ll find another way home.”

“Okay.” She paused. “Is everything okay?”

No.

“Yes!” I did my best to sound bright and chipper, but I didn’t think for one second that June was fooled. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

With that, I hung up. It looked like I was stuck here, and at the very least, I was not going to spend the rest of my day in the bathroom. So I picked up my purse, and made my way to the dining hall, purchased a cup of coffee, and carried it back to the biology building, where I spent a few hours playing solitaire. Anything to talk my mind off what Professor Proctor had told me.

It occurred to me that I didn’t have to give her the time to blackmail me. I could report her for conspiring with the rebels right now, and have her arrested. The only issue was, I had no proof. It was her word against mine, and I wasn’t naive enough to think that anyone would believe me over a world renowned researcher and scientist.

My phone was on it’s last two percent when my father finally emerged from the hallway. He frowned as his eyes darted from me to the three empty coffee cups that were now stacked behind me. Hey, walking to the dining hall was exercise, right?

“Done so soon?” His tone was skeptical, and he narrowed his eyes at me.

“Yeah, she got a call from a publisher of one science magazine or another, asking her if they could interview her about her latest study.” I shrugged nonchalantly. It was a good thing that I had had the better part of a day to come up with a believable lie. “How was your day?”

“Less hectic than I thought it would be.”

I stood up then, following him out the door and through the parking lot, to his car. He was silent up until we were in his car, when he asked, “Was it good to see her before you leave?”

“Yeah,” I lied, leaving it at that. Luckily, my father didn’t press me for more details. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel at every stoplight, humming along to an old song playing on the radio. No matter how much any of us protested, he refused to change the station in his car to anything other than “Classic Hits of the early 2000s.” He was insistent that it was the only music that would ever play in his car. If we wanted our own music, we were to bring something else to listen to. Too bad my phone was dead.

My father pulled into our driveway at a snail’s pace, each motion he made deliberate yet relaxed. He turned the keys, shutting the car off, still humming to that stupid song that played at least twice every time I rode with him to work - once in the morning, once in the evening.

I was over it. I wanted nothing more than to eat dinner, shower, and curl up in my bed. I was all but packed, seeing as we didn’t need to bring many personal items with us, since our wardrobe and essentials would be provided for us at the palace. All I needed to do was get through the rest of today, and then tomorrow, I would be on a plane, and with any luck, I would never have to see Professor Proctor ever again.

My father practically raced to the door. I trailed behind him, narrowing my eyes at him as he watched me slowly trudge up the porch steps, his gaze expectant. He waited until I was right behind him before he slowly began to open the door, which creaked slowly on its hinges. From what I could see, the inside of our house was dark, which was odd, considering my mother’s car was definitely in the driveway.

Once his hand was inside, my father flung the door open the rest of the way, and I stepped inside, blinking twice as the lights flashed on around me, and a wall of people jumped into my line of sight. The word, “Surprise!” was yelled in various pitches and intonations, jarring me almost as much as the sudden change in brightness did. I dropped my purse as I took in the sight in front of me. My entire family - my father’s parents included - along with June and Lukas stood in the living room, partially obscured by the staircase, wearing party hats and holding noise makers. Above the couch was a banner that read, “We’ll Miss You, Evalin!” in big red block letters.

I forced myself to smile, and then I forced myself to hug everyone, and act like this was the best present I had ever received. “I knew you’d love it,” Lydia squealed. “A going away surprise party just seemed perfect!” When our brothers were out of an earshot, she whispered, “I released the ants, too!”

I was quite sure an ant infestation was the last thing I needed at this point in time, but I assured her that it was the highlight of my day, which was the truth, though the bar was quite low. After her, it was my grandparents, who were so pleased with how much my Swendish had improved since I had last seen them around Christmas time. I informed them that I had been furthering my study of the language in order to help me stand out during the Selection, and they beamed.

The rest of the night was much the same. It wasn’t until the wee hours of the morning that our company started trickling out. First it was June, lazily waving goodnight as she made her way to her own home nextdoor. Then it was my brothers and Lydia, whose departures were punctured with screaming and laughter as all four made it to their rooms, finally. Then my father decided it was high time to drive his parents back to the hotel they were staying in, though they promised they would see me again at the official send off ceremony the next day. My mother drifted off upstairs, saying she needed to deal with whatever mess had been made. I didn’t want to imagine what her face would look like when she found out her daughters had collected and released ants into her sons’ room.

That left just me and Lukas, seated on the couch downstairs, me with a glass of water, and him with an untouched slice of cake.

Now was as good a time as any, I decided. Today could not possibly get any worse.

“I heard you in the car with June, today.”

Color rushed to his cheeks as he placed his plate on the coffee table. “I went with her to pick up your grandparents from the hotel.” I raised an eyebrow at him, and he added, “She asked me to come with her since I know a little Swendish.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes.” He narrowed his eyes right back at me. “You sounded kind of upset on the phone. What happened?”

I just shook my head. “You would not believe the conversation I had with Professor Proctor today.”

“Oh, good.” His eyes lit up, his lips starting to tug upwards in a smile, and his speech animated. “She filled you in on everything, then? It’s great that you’re continuing to work with her.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I never said that.”

His face went pale at that, and he leaned forward, towards me. “What do you mean?”

“I told her no, Lukas.” It was an effort not to ball my hands into fists in my lap. “You’re working with her?”

He shook his head, and then ran his hand through his hair. “Evalin, why -”

It was all the answer I needed.

“Get out of my house.” I stood, pointing towards the front door. “Now.”

Reluctantly, he got to his feet. “Evalin, listen, you’re being irrational. Can’t you see -”

“Don’t you dare try to call me irrational when you’re the ones committing treason,” I hissed, grabbing his arm and dragging him towards the door. “Get out of my house, and don’t you ever come back.”

My teeth were clenched as I opened the door, practically shoving him into the night air. As he stumbled out onto the porch, my father rounded the corner of our driveway in his car, his headlights like a beacon in the night.

“Evalin,” Lukas tried again.

I’d had enough. I pushed him towards the porch steps as hard as I could. He stumbled back a foot as I reiterated, “I said leave!”

Finally, he took the hint, and began walking across the lawn, turning right when he hit the street. To my left, my father stepped out of his car, locking it as he came to stand beside me on the porch. “I never liked him,” was all he said as he turned around, opening the front door and holding it for me.

It was a sleepless night after that. Between the fight with Proctor, and then the fight with Lukas, I had a lot to think about. My brain wouldn’t shut off, no matter how much I tried to drown out the sound of my thoughts with the sounds of the crickets outside. By the time light started filtering through the window again, I had managed to sleep for maybe half an hour, if that.

There was not enough coffee in the world to get me through this day. The morning was a blur of my mother fixing my hair and applying makeup to my face, Lydia zipping up the dress the capital officials had instructed me to wear, and my father, handing me cup after cup of coffee until I couldn’t sit still for more than five minutes without having to use the restroom. After that, we were out the door, and off to the town square, where the mayor was waiting on a stage in front of a crowd of people.

I had to give the crowd credit - some of the signs were kind of creative. Even June was there, holding one that read, “Evalin? More like Eva-WIN!” I cracked a smile at that, but it faded as I thought back to the night before. I wasn’t going to get the chance to tell her about Lukas. Shit.

Speak of the devil. There he was, dressed in a button up shirt and dress slacks, standing at the side of none other than Professor Proctor herself. A bold move, on their part. I refused to give them the satisfaction of knowing that I had seen them. Instead, I adopted the broadest smile I could manage, and plastered it on my face as the mayor droned on about my merits as a candidate for the princes heart, and what a great service I was doing for my province.

Once he had wrapped up, it was time to say goodbye to my family. My brothers were first, practically crushing me with the combined force of their hugs, and assuring me that they would get payback for the ants. I only laughed, challenging that I would love to see how they planned to do that from the other side of the country.

Then it was my grandparents, who gave me quick well-wishes in Swendish, before stepping aside to let Lydia through. Lydia gave me a quick hug, both her and my mother offering words of encouragement.

The last one left was my father. Steeling myself for what I knew I had to do, I wrapped my arms around his neck, closing my eyes as I inhaled the scent of coffee and hazelnut for one last time. Then, discreetly, I raised my head a bit, and whispered into his ear, “Proctor knows what’s in the attic, and I think I made her very angry yesterday.”

My father, to his credit, didn’t so much as flinch at the news. His face remained stoic, though he did offer me a nearly imperceptible nod, the only sign that he had heard what I said.

With that done, I was ushered into a limo, where I sat for the next two hours, until it arrived at the airport. I had wanted to sleep in the limo, but the caffeine in my system had left me too jittery and alert to do so. Maybe that was for the better, though. I didn’t want to accidentally fall asleep on the plane, in front of the other Selected girls.

One of them was already on the plane when I boarded. I ran through my memory, trying desperately to place her face to one of the names I had memorized. No luck. I was drawing a blank.

I offered her a smile as I made my way down the aisle. “Hi, I’m Evalin!”

She matched my smile with one of her own. “Hi Evalin! I’m Indie!”

Indie. Indiana? The film director from Clermont? I struggled to remember what else Lydia had told me about her, but it wasn’t coming through. God, I was so tired.

I took a seat across the aisle from her, keeping my smile in place. “It’s nice to meet you! You’re from Clermont, right?”

“Yes, I am! And you’re from -” she paused, smiling sheepishly, “-remind me again?”

“Carolina.” I smoothed out my skirt. At least I wasn’t alone in the not-remembering-information boat at the moment. “You’re a movie director, right?”

Her smile was nothing but kind as she replied. “I am. What is your profession?”

I inhaled slightly before answering. “I’m still in college, but I’m studying biology.”

For now.

“Oh wow, that’s really cool. I could never do science.”

“Thanks,” I replied with a slightly nervous laugh. “It’s second nature for me, really. I grew up around it. I think it’s really cool, what you do, though! I’ve never had that kind of artistic vision!”

“Aw, thank you. It’s the only thing I could ever do, and I’m glad. I truly love it. The profession saved me, in a way.”

“That’s amazing!” I couldn’t help but smile at that. Indie and I weren’t so different when it came down to it. What she felt for directing was exactly what I had felt, still felt, for biology. “That kind of passion is very admirable!”

Once again, she matched my smile. “We are still waiting on two more, right? The plane is supposed to leave soon.”

“I think so.” I frowned, looking over my shoulder, out the window. Missing the plane would set a sour tone for the rest of the Selection, that was for sure. As I craned my neck, trying to get a better view, I caught side of a girl with dark hair was walking through the parking lot. “Looks like one is coming now!”

Sure enough, as soon as the words popped out of my mouth, one girl boarded the plane, followed by a second girl, who already had headphones in. The first girl popped into the plane like a ball of pure sunshine, looking over her shoulder at the plane staircase. “Sorry, sorry,” she said, breathlessly, “My parents kept saying goodbye!” She turned back to us then, her eyes flickering over each of our faces in turn. “Idalia Moretti,” she said by way of introduction, plopping down in an empty seat to my right.

The fourth girl took up a seat towards the front of the plane, not so much as glancing back at us. Instead, she turned to face the window, keeping her headphones in.

“What about you guys?” Idalia’s voice drew my attention back towards my right side.

I offered her the same smile I had given Indie earlier. “Evalin Berg. It’s nice to meet you!”

“Oh,” Indie began, grinning like mad at Idalia. I had to admit, the girl’s energy was infectious, and she was practically bursting at the seams with it. “Hi, I’m Indie! Are you guys excited?”

With everyone on board, the plane began to take off. It wasn’t nearly as hard as I thought it would be to say my goodbyes to Carolina, though I did still have my worries. Would Proctor report my father, out of spite for me? Would Lukas? What was even in my attic that was so illicit? It’s not like my father could just sneak up there willy-nilly. The attic door was a drop-down from the ceiling on the second floor, kind of like a reverse trap door, with a ladder that unfolded out once the door was open. The hinges were so rusted and creaky that half the neighborhood would know that someone was going into our attic before they ever set foot in it.

I turned my attention back to the matter at hand. “Very,” I answered. “A little nervous, too, though. What about you?”

“It should be an interesting day,” Idalia offered. “Tomorrow is when I’ll be nervous. Or, I guess whenever we meet the prince.”

“I’m definitely a little of both excited and nervous,” Indie agreed. “But you’re right. Tomorrow is when things get really real.”

They were right. I needed to focus. “True. Today is just makeovers and getting settled in, right?” I winced at my own unawareness of what I had gotten myself into. I cursed the stupid fights keeping me awake all damn night, and for making me forget what I really needed to do. “Sorry, this whole thing has been a bit of a whirlwind. It’s kind of hard to keep track of all the details.”

“Yeah, I think so,” Indie answered. “I’m sure there will be people telling us what to do, and where to go. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“It’s kind of weird, being thrown into the spotlight like this! Do any of you know any of the other girls? I’ve only gotten tidbits of information that my sister has dug up.” A half lie. Lydia had dug up a good deal of information, I just couldn’t recall any of it.

“I know one of the girls,” Indie admitted. “Emily. She’s acted in a few of my movies. I know some of the other actors just from industry talk, and stuff.”

“Yeah!” Idalia took over the conversation. ��I just know the details because I have a friend obsessed with this stuff. She sent me a PowerPoint of, ‘The Most Important Things to Know,’ on everything and everyone.”

Indie’s eyes went wide and her smile grew. “A PowerPoint? That’s iconic!”

“Oh wow!” I laughed, but it came out a good deal more nervous than I had intended it to. “Dare I ask what it said about us?”

“Oh, Evalin,” Indie reprimanded with a shake of her head, “never read the reviews.”

I blushed, but Idalia only smiled as she forged onwards. “She is iconic like that! She liked your last movie, by the way. It was in her PowerPoint.”

“Oh, really? That’s sweet!”

So much for not reading the reviews.

A joke. I should crack a joke. “Ah, sorry! I’m used to my work being peer reviewed.”

I was the only one who laughed at my joke. I should not have cracked a joke.

As if it took her a second to catch on, Idalia let out a small chuckle. “I’m pretty sure your slide just said, ‘bio smart but I have no idea what any of her work says.’”

“Ah,” I replied, feeling the blood rushing to my cheeks once again. I should have seen that one coming from a mile away. “I haven’t really done anything of note. I held a research position under my genetics professor last semester, but it was mostly just me using a microscope.” It felt weird to talk about it now, after everything that had happened yesterday. I could only imagine these girls’ reactions if I had told them the full story.

“That sounds way more intelligent than anything I’ve done, so,” Indie trailed off for a second. “Kudos to you.”

I let out another nervous laugh, fidgeting with my hands in my lap. Time to change the subject. “What movies have you directed?”

Indie seemed to consider it for a moment, as if she had to pick between a large sum of movies when saying her next sentence. “A few,” she settled on, finally. “Some of them you might know are Lady Bird and Little Women. I’ve also done The Greatest Showman, but I also direct episodes of TV sometimes.”

“Oh, I loved Little Women,” I gushed immediately. “That and Pride and Prejudice are the two movies my sister insists we watch whenever we have a family movie night!”

She grinned at that. “Pride and Prejudice is amazing. I’m glad my movie sings along beside it at your family movie nights.”

“Funny,” Idalia interjected, smirking. “My house is usually filled with suggestions of Megamind on family night.”

“Hey, I mean, Megamind,” Indie trailed off again, clearly searching for the words in her head. “Important stuff!”

Interesting. That movie definitely sounded like something Randall would request. That, combined with her big personality, was making me wonder if Idalia and I had more in common than I had initially assumed.  “Do you have a lot of siblings, too?”

“No, actually,” Indie answered first, “I don’t have any siblings. You?”

Idalia had an amused smile on her face as she admitted, “I only have a younger brother, but Megamind is usually not his idea.”

“Like I said, Megamind - important stuff,” Indie reiterated.

“Megamind is a classic,” I decided out loud, though I had never seen the movie before. “I have three brothers, and a sister.”

“A big family,” Indie observed. “That must be nice.”

“It is,” I admitted, thinking back to our goodbyes a few hours earlier, “for the most part, but we can get a little antsy. There’s plenty of teasing and pranks to go around! Having time to yourself must be nice, though!”

Idalia nodded knowingly. “I probably tease my brother more than he teases me.”

“Having time to myself can be nice,” Indie agreed, “but at least I get to live vicariously through my characters.” After a brief pause, she picked up the conversation again. “Oh, hey! Idalia, we never asked you what your profession was. You seem like a prankster. It has to be something interesting.”

I wasn’t the only one who got that vibe from Idalia then. The brunette leaned back in her seat, cracking a smile as she responded, “Interesting assumption. I fence sabre.”

My eyes immediately lit up. So that was where I knew her from! “Oh, wow, that’s awesome! I thought your name sounded kind of familiar! You fenced in the Olympics, right? My youngest brother had the games on all day, every day when they were being broadcasted!”

She brightened as well, her smile broadening. “I did. I’m going again next year. Or at least that’s the plan.”

“Ah, congratulations!” Thinking about all of her words had me biting my lip. “Are you nervous about the possibility of this Selection taking over a year? I know the officials said it shouldn’t, since it should display the prince’s decisiveness, but” I sighed, “I have to wonder how into the Selection he’s going to be, what with his engagement to Evie Waldia being cut off so recently.”

It was a fact Gabriel had been bringing up since the beginning. This wasn’t a quest for love, according to him, but a quest for the royal rebound. His argument only got worse once he realized how similar my name was to Evie’s. From that point onwards, he refused to address me as anything other than, “Evie 2.0,” much to my annoyance. I was my own person, not a new Evie, and not a rebound. My brother, of all people, should know that.

Idalia turned her head towards the ceiling. “Time will tell, but I doubt they will say I can’t go. Illea, like everyone else, sends people that can win. If I’m still one of the candidates when the time comes, it would be foolish of them to deny my participation.”

“That’s true,” I conceded. “It must be so cool, being able to compete for your country like that!”

“That really is cool, Idalia,” Indie echoed. “I’m sure you’ll get to go. It’s probably even better press for Illea if they send a Selected.”

I was inclined to agree. “That’s a good point! You’d get to be serving the nation in two ways at once!”

“I guess that could be said,” Idalia conceded, chuckling. “So we’ve got a film director, a bio major, a fencer, and,” she paused, looking at the fourth girl, who had shown no inclination to join in the conversation, “an unknown.”

“Should,” Indie bit her lip, and I tried to remember who the fourth girl on this plane should be. “Should we try to talk to her, or…” She trailed off again, not taking her eyes off the girl.

It hit me then. Shala Lie of Dominica.

“Shala?” I asked. No reply. I frowned and lowered my voice to a whisper, having the vague sense that Shala might still be listening in on our conversation. “Maybe she’s just very nervous.”

“Yeah, probably.” Indie shrugged. “Well, anyway, you girls seem really nice. It’s definitely made me feel a lot better about this whole process.”

“Likewise,” I replied. I had to admit, my smile was less forced this time. “It’s good to know that we’re not in this alone.”

Idalia took control of the conversation again. “I’m sure Prince Arin must be having a similar feeling.”

“Speaking of Prince Arin,” Indie began with a grin, “thoughts?”

I couldn’t help but blush at the thought of the prince. I kind of hated it. What was I, twelve years old? Nonetheless, I had to field my question. “Well, he is quite handsome, don’t you think?”

“He is quite handsome,” Indie echoed. “I’m excited to get to know him. Or, at least I hope I get the chance to know him.”

“Me too. I’d love to be able to talk to him and get to know him.” Admitting this to these girls, these almost strangers, was somehow less embarrassing than admitting it to anyone at home had been. “I’m sure he has lots of interesting stories to tell.”

“Yeah, probably. It’s just crazy that we are going to be living in the palace, of all places,” Indie gushed. “Hanging out with the prince, of all people. It feels like a fever dream!”

“Truly!” I had been saying as much since the letter first came in the mail. “I never imagined that this is where my life would actually take me!” The faint popping in my ears was my first clue, but a quick look out the window only confirmed my suspicions. “It looks like we’re about to land!”

“Yep.” Indie nodded in agreement. “We should keep in touch down there. I think it’ll be nice to have some friendly faces around.”

My smile was my main reply; my words were secondary. “Certainly!”

“I wonder if we’ll be near each other, room-wise,” Idalia chimed in.

Finally, something I could actually remember. “What rooms are you in? I’m in room eighteen.”

“Oh, uh, you know, we might be close to each other. Hold on.” Idalia paused, pulling a piece of paper out of her back pocket. She skimmed it for moment before finishing with, “Yeah, sixteen.” Her brows furrowed, then, as she looked over what I could only imagine must be a map. “Okay, so we’re in the same hall, but you’re right outside the circle of rooms around mine. Not the closest, but still same hall.”

I looked over her shoulder, taking it was was indeed a map, for myself. “Yeah, it looks like we’re diagonally across the from each other.” I smiled at Idalia, then. This could be good. “We should definitely be seeing each other around, then!”

“I’m in room six,” Indie announced, “but we will still see each other around!”

“I’ve heard there’s a woman’s room, and also etiquette lessons,” Idalia admitted.

“True.” My grin was one hundred percent genuine this time. “I’m kind of excited for the etiquette lessons. It’ll be nice to learn something different, for a change.”

“Oh, it’ll be something for sure,” Idalia agreed with an amused grin. “How to be photographed, how to curtsy, maybe which spoon is for the salad as well!”

I laughed at the joke. “I wonder if they’ll make us learn how to walk with books balanced on our heads.”

It was Indie’s turn to laugh now. “That would be funny to see,” she admitted, “but, trust me, that’s not the hard stuff. It’s the learning to talk to the press that’s hard.”

That was where the conversation ended, as the plane touched down and we were escorted down a carpet, through a large crowd of people, and into a limousine. It was silent at that point, and for that I was kind of grateful. I was out of Carolina. I was here, in the capital, possibly about to meet the love of my life, and at that moment, that was all that mattered.

[teaspacebar]

far too young to die (3/???)

a/n: part three is here!!! this will be the last part before we jump into season 3 content, which i am crazy excited for. thank you so much to everyone who has liked and recently followed me, this is the first time i have actually went through with putting my content on tumblr, and it’s been a great experience so far!

relationship: steve harrington x reader

word count: 755

summary: you just wanted to keep your job at the starcourt mall movie theater. all you had to do was find out how these kids were sneaking into the movies without coming in the front door. your small little movie theater conspiracy ends up pulling you into something a lot bigger, and a lot scarier.

part one / part two

chapter three: just a pretty babysitter

“I just don’t see what the issue is.” Jen was sweeping popcorn into the dustpan that you were holding. “It seems to me that you are taking this very personally. It’s just some kids sneaking into movies.”

“Yeah, but it’s my ass on the line. Don’t ask me why, but it is. I swear Michael has it out for me,” you huffed, grabbing a bag of popcorn that was left on the floor, tossing it into the trashcan next to the two of you.

“That’s because you said no when he asked you out. Or maybe it’s because you almost punched him in the face when he slapped your ass.”

“That douche deserved it.”

The two of you burst into laughter, Jen throwing a piece of popcorn at you. You really did enjoy working at the theater. The moments you had there were effortless, really. You felt at home with the neon lights and the overpowering smell of artificial butter. It was better than staying at home, where your mom brought home all different kinds of men. You shuddered at the thought, returning back to your cleaning.

“He’s actually kinda being sweet.”

You stared at Jen, “Wait, who?”

She rolled her eyes at you, “Steve, duh.” At your confused look, she continued, “He’s risking his job to sneak these kids into the theater. They obviously look up to him. And he’s being sweet and keeping them occupied. There’s a lot worse they could be doing.”

You pointed a finger at her, scrunching your face, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Make me like him.”

“It’s Steve Harrington, everybody likes him. Even if he isn’t ‘King Steve’ anymore, he’s a…pretty cool babysitter.”

You snorted, “I think you just mean pretty.” Realizing your words, your eyes widen, “Don’t even think about commenting on that.” But that was the thing. Steve Harrington was pretty. With his stupid hair, stupid smile, and that stupid uniform.

Ever since you found out that it was him sneaking the kids in, you kept visiting Scoops Ahoy. You kept telling yourself it was to get more information on him – the more to blackmail him with, the better – but you actually started to enjoy the small moments you’d talk to him. Or when he’d fumble over himself trying to impress other girls. He was so…adorably awkward. You’d come to his rescue, when you couldn’t take the secondhand embarrassment anymore.

“Weren’t you guys friend when you were like…ten?”

You groaned, “Jen, stop.”

She held up her hands in surrender, “I’m pretty sure you mentioned it once when you were drunk.”

“Cool, now forget about it, thanks.”

That was a whole other basket that you did not want to unpack. Sure, you two were best buds back in elementary school. And then puberty and middle school came along and it was like Steve couldn’t get rid of you fast enough.

Gone were the days where you’d spend the whole afternoon pretending to be adventurers on an expedition. The impromptu movie nights that came from the times Steve showed up at your doorstep, his parents pulling out of the driveway to take care of some business crap they always had to do. The crazy themed birthday parties with homemade decorations.

Middle school had sucked. You went into it fully expecting to have your best friend there by your side. Until you didn’t. Steve had made new friends in his first period class, that by the time it was lunch, he had completely forgotten about you. You ate your lunch in the library alone after that. For three whole, awful, terrible years.

Jen had come into your life at the most opportune time. Freshman year, she had sat down next to you in English, and declared the two of you best friends. So, the two of you went through high school together, hand in hand. All the while watching as Steve Harrington grew to be one of the biggest assholes to exist. At least until senior year, when he did a complete 180. He was dating Nancy Wheeler – Miss Priss – as you and Jen liked to call her. And now it turned out that he was the resident babysitter for a group of kids. Oh, how the times had changed.

“Hey,” Jen called your name, “you good?”

“It’s just weird, I guess. Never thought I’d see the day where I’d be willingly talking to Steve Harrington.”

“It’s the summer, girl, it can change anything.” She sent you an encouraging smile.

“That doesn’t sound ominous or anything,” you replied, grinning.

[fuck-customers]

Yay, me again with a bucket of stories that I'm just gonna dump off instead of doing individual asks cause I know how everyone just loves that. TW: swearing, threatening, blood, and literal shit.

Lady comes in, has no problems for most of her time in the store and then all of a sudden we hear this big crash near the nail polish. She had squatted down to look at a lower rack and when she got up she used the upper shelf to pull herself and in the process pulled the whole shelf down. She's standing, she seems fine, we tell her to please stay there for her safety as there is now glass everywhere and it's hard to tell what is broken or not. Coworker locks the door, I get a broom to sweep her out of there, and when we come back she's standing at the counter now real impatient. We ask her if she was injured and she replies with "No, but who is gonna replace my shoes?" Coworker and I both look down and yeah, they are a rainbow shit storm. We tell her as it was an accident (though really she should not have pulled on the shelf like that cause that is just fucking stupid anyway) and that we well and truly were more concerned with her well being after being in a glass avalanche. She does not like that answer and flips, yelling at us and making rapid hand gestures as she makes her way out of the store. Filled out the incident report and marked it as "refused medical attention". Our cameras have sound, jokes on her if she tries to come after us for refusing medical attention. In total we offered it six times. As a side note; I am so sick of both the smell of nail polish and acetone I'll probably never paint my nails again.

Woman calls the store asking to speak to a manager, I am the senior employee as there isn't a manager because she quit a month ago and we've had a revolving cast so I offer to take the call. I introduce myself and ask if she can describe her problem to me. From what she describes it seems like a product defect so I tell her if she brings in the item we can better see what is wrong with it and if it is a defect we can exchange or refund her. Very important to the story. Anyway she comes in thirty mins later with a wig, I take it out of the box and I do a standard inspection. No ripped or loose wefts, no tears in the top scalp cap, all the clips and loops are right. I look at her and ask what exactly is wrong and she rips this thing out of my hands and points at the loops in the wig. Wigs come with two loop types, top and sewn. Sewn are typically for small to medium heads while top loop fits everyone pretty comfortably. She tells me it's broken and so I explain that same word for word explanation to her and her response? "Oh well I have a smaller head what do I do?" Adjust the fucking clips? Get a pack of bobby pins? Something completely rational before flying off the handle at me to tell about how I am a horrible person and deserve to be arrested for fraud. I mean, I have to lie about a lot of shit or dumb it the fuck down, sure. But I know wigs really well, get out of my store with your "Gimme the owners contact info" attitude. You can complain about the gas prices too, I commute between two locations each 20-45 mins away from my house and I just wanna know when it's my turn to complain.

D is a regular customer who has gotten used to bossing around the new girls at my home store. The other day she cornered one of them and demanded a manager for her problems, I get called cause I just am fed up with her shit at this point. Just because you are going through a nasty divorce gives you no right to mistreat anyone. She proceeds to run her mouth for about ten minutes, listing off the shit that the girls are doing wrong and how she feels so unsatisfied with her experience at ou store since we hired them. Number one, shut the fuck up they are new and learning. Number two, that's literally why you are getting a divorce cause nothing satisfies you apparently. I walk her around the whole three aisles pretending to be interested in her rant before Looney Toons-ing her into standing in front of the door. She looks at me and in the nicest customer service ass kissing voice told her to have a nice day. She left confused and not exactly sure what just happened.

I, the genius I am, cut my hand open at work. Not bad enough for stitches but bad enough I needed a bunch of bandaids. We had none. I wrap my hand in paper towels and packing tape before going to the grocery store next door to buy some and patch myself up like a human being and not a heathen. I go, come back, and as soon and I get all my stuff set down and wallet away this woman stops me and asks for help as I am clearly on a mission. I tell her one of the other girls will be with her and she literally stomps her foot and blocks my path demanding I help her. Through this entire encounter I am still bleeding, less but enough for concern, and I just open my hand and go "I need to disinfect this, some one will be with you when they can". The paper towel is red the packing tape is peeling, it looks worse then it is but I also cut my hand clean on one of the metal shelves so it sucked ass regardless. Miss stampy foot "is a nurse" and gets mad at me for choosing my own health over her hair like what even lady, get over yourself. This entire encounter I am polite as I possible can be with a bloody hand, a box of band aids, and a tube of neosporin. One of my coworkers thankfully separates us cause I was reaching a point where I was gonna lose my shit. Happy end though, one of the older women saw my hand and has been an RN for something like thirty something years, really nice lady, she patched me up after we gave her a pair of gloves. She gets a discount now for being just awsome.

I tend to work by myself some days as I can and am very intimidating as a person so people tend to not fuck with me. However on occasion I'll get people who wanna pick a fight with me just to see if I will yield to them. Never will and never have but I enjoy listening to them. Woman threatened to have me killed and I just sorta shrugged, like shit man if you do it you get a gold star. Another had her boyfriend come in the store and try to intimidate me into taking back used hair dye. Sorry, but your five-foot five boo-berry-fuck-munch couldn't scare me into giving him directions to the nearest pizza joint let alone give you back your money for something you decided you knew more about then me. Woman and her husband came in for just a fight. Straight up wanted to fight with someone and didn't care who. When I wouldn't give it to them they tried for other customers so I just quietly called the police and they were arrested for being drunk in public.

I love my coworkers, but a lot of them are afraid to clean the bathroom. I get it, this is cosmetology and cleanliness is super important but we are also a salon and have to meet the expectations of clients. I spent a fucking hour cleaning the bathroom the other day cause no one else would. We have a hand drier and the wall beneath it was yellowed, the trashcan had mold on it, toilet had stains in it from someone's after morning coffee break. It was fucking gross. By the time inwas done you couldn't go on there and breathe I used so much bleach cause fuck that. I will sacrifice my hands for a clean fucking bathroom.

[farmhandler]

Run

Rating: E

Pairing: Sendak/Shiro

Warnings: Omegaverse, Heat, omega!Shiro, alien!alpha!Sendak, mating run, somewhat dubcon

CH: 1/1

WC: 8.6K~

Read on AO3 

**A/N: **Another shendak oneshot, are you bored yet? ;p (That's not an honest question 'cause I'm not HA). This is a little different than my usual, but also not. I just had fun with it. Although it's technically consensual, I tagged it dubcon due to the nature of the situation. Enjoy!

“I’ll see you later. No, no, I’m looking forward to it. Really, I am! I haven’t been avoiding you all; I’ve just been busy.” He paused. “Uh huh. I’ll see you then, Keith, bye.”

Shiro pressed blindly on the bottom end of his phone screen until the call ended, and then shoved his phone in his pocket.

After a long day of work, he was very tired.

The work itself wasn’t tiring, but monotony of the work was starting to wear on him. Going from being a pilot, to losing his arm and then being benched for over a year after was not how he had expected to spend his youth. At 25, he was one of the youngest successful pilots out there, and he’d expected to do something amazing with his skills. But then he’d crashed, and the rest was history.

Paperwork was not his favorite thing to do, and now that he was grounded, that was all they let him do. On occasion he got to running training drills with younger pilots-in-training, but his days were usually full of emails, calls, and papers to electronically file.

He hadn’t been lying to Keith. He was busy, which meant getting out and seeing his friends—even though they worked at the Garrison—wasn’t easy. He wanted to see them, it was just…

Someone nearly jostled him on their way out the door—the door Shiro was still standing in front of, so he moved out of the way, watching her rush off to her car with vague interest. Her perfume smelled nice: floral, doing little to mask the scent of alpha wafting off her. Shiro’s nostrils flared as he inhaled on instinct, resisting the urge to let his eyes flutter shut.

His heat was about a week away. That was the most interesting thing he would experience for the next month, and if he was lucky, he’d find a nice alpha on one of those apps. Or, like every other heat, he’d look through the options, hate every single one of them, and end up spending it alone.

Sighing, Shiro stepped off the curb and walked towards his car.

He noticed the flyer when he was on his way to pick up groceries.

Shiro didn’t live in the Garrison compound—he might literally go insane if that were the case—and so the nearest grocery store was a few dozen blocks away. He liked to take the long walk if he was just picking up a few things and enjoy some much needed fresh air, particularly after being stuffed in his office all day.

It was when he was passing a streetlamp covered in dozens of posters that the wording on one of them caught his eye.

MATING RUN

Bored? Tired of your daily routine? Spice it up with a mating run!

Shiro snorted out loud once he realized what the poster was advertising.

Mating runs were an archaic form of punishment on omegas hundreds of years ago, when alphas would be let loose in groups to chase after omegas on the cusp of their heats. Once an alpha caught an omega…well.

They didn’t teach it in schools anymore, thank god, but Shiro had stumbled upon the literature in the library at the Garrison when he was eighteen, and for about an afternoon he had been horribly fascinated by the process. It was riddled with consent issues and seemed completely in favor of the alphas, but it had been considered a rite of passage at the time. An honor.

Only now, they were illegal.

How the hell had anyone not been arrested for trying to set this up?

Shiro ripped the flyer off the pole and started reading the text. Upon closer inspection, it became clear that the mating run was only in name only. None of the omegas could be in heat, alphas couldn’t be in rut. Couples were encouraged to take part.

Essentially, it was a kinky run through the forest with a stranger or one’s partner. None of it was real.

Shiro crumpled the flyer and tossed it towards the nearby trashcan, his interest dropping dramatically.

I’ve tried having sex with strangers, Shiro thought, starting walking again. It never works out. And who would want to pretend they’re being chased in an event that’s designed to be entirely against their will?

Shiro didn’t think about the mating run as he picked up the carton of eggs and looked inside for any cracked ones. He didn’t think about the run while he was deciding what meats he wanted at the deli. He didn’t consider taking part while he was in line at check-out, watching a large alpha place his things on the conveyor belt, smelling like he’d just come out of the gym, a tempting mix of body chemicals.

Shiro’s heat was in a week. He hadn’t considered taking on a stranger for when he’d be out of his mind for a few days, but for a brief moment he imagined taking part in the mating run after having invited the alpha along. He was muscular and trim, so Shiro was reasonably certain he worked out. He’d probably catch him quickly; Shiro wouldn’t even have to wait that long.

“Next, please?”

He was ripped free of his thoughts by the cashier, a beta that was staring at him expectantly. The alpha was already gone.

“Sorry,” Shiro said, flushing. He quickly set out putting his things on the conveyer belt, shoving thoughts of the mating run from his mind once and for all.

***

Shiro wasn’t looking for the poster. He was just…concerned that he might have missed the garbage can early on his way to the grocery store. That was why he was looking in and around it, just to make sure that he hadn’t missed it.

When he found it lying on the ground, having been blown into the corner of a building ten feet from the trashcan, the sigh he breathed wasn’t one of relief. No; he was just doing his civic duty to keep the city clean.

If he copied the number written down on the bottom of the flyer, that was no one’s business but his own.

***

“We’re going to need you to sign here, here, and here.”

The woman—an omega—smiled at him brightly, while Shiro considered walking out then and there.

He hadn’t planned on calling the number. He hadn’t planned on going to the building where they were taking signups for their kink group, and he certainly hadn’t planned on signing all the paperwork, but here he was.

“What is all this?” he asked, unable to keep the waver out of his voice. He knew that the woman could probably smell his unease as a fellow omega, but she was kept up her bubbly persona and didn’t attempt to soothe him, as much as she probably wanted to.

“The release forms,” she clarified. “This is just to ensure that if anything happens, we aren’t liable. It’s everything we’ve already spoken about, but I suggest you read through them.”

He nodded and started skimming the text.

The rules were simple, and it wasn’t nearly as spontaneous as the flyer made it seem. Everything about the run was controlled. It was taking place in a forest, just like a real mating run, but they would be on constant watch. There weren’t any drones following them around, but there were cameras along the designated path that everyone would take, and they were required to wear trackers ensuring that if they did somehow end up getting lost, they would easily be found. All the ‘alphas’ were trained and vetted by the organization prior to any events.

Shiro held back a smile when he read that going naked wasn’t a requirement like it would have been in an actual mating run. That was just one of the many clauses. Among them there was the one he’d read about on the poster—confirmation that he would either be on suppressants or his cycle would not line up with the run, ensuring that it was consensual for all parties involved. The omegas—and the alphas, if they so chose—could tap out at any time.

His heat would end just a day before the mating run, so at worst, he would smell like post-heat.

Shiro hesitated with his hand over the signature line, a sense of dread washing over him when he considered what he was about to sign up for.

It was fucked up that he wanted a stranger to pretend to take advantage of him during his heat.

“You don’t have to commit today,” the woman said gently. “Or at all. You can walk out this door right now and your money will be refunded to you in a couple of days.”

He shouldn’t want to do this. He shouldn’t, but—

God, he was so bored. He’d lived his life preparing to be a pilot, and once he’d become one, he’d immediately lost it. He’d never been to war, or seen battle, and the last time he’d done something adventurous was get drunk after he’d graduated.

He signed the paper.

***

Wiping his clammy hands on his athletic shorts, Shiro looked around at the group of omegas giggling and walking around their waiting room, wondering if this had all been one big mistake.

Shiro’s heat hadn’t started on time.

It was supposed to trigger a few days ago, but instead, he’d only felt the signs of pre-heat, barely there and almost indistinguishable from how he normally felt. He was aware that the contract he signed forbid him from taking part in the run during heat, but he wasn’t technically in heat.

It was just pre-heat, which was a lot similar to post heat. He was just a little hornier.

The scent of virile alpha wafted over and Shiro tensed, the muscles in his thighs bunching up.

If he was being honest, Shiro wasn’t quite sure what he’d been expecting in coming here. The group of ‘omegas’ wasn’t just omegas. There were only a few dozen of them, and a good handful were aliens that were probably doing this out of curiosity. The rest were obviously couples. Shiro could tell the other single members because they stood alone, and they didn’t say much.

They had reached the forested area where this would all take place a while ago. Water was being passed around, and all the actual omegas were being inspected for signs of heat. Nothing invasive, but there were a few obvious signs, and they had signed a waiver that said they were willing to be scented.

As the alpha started to make her rounds, scenting each of the omegas, Shiro’s nerves kicked up a notch.

He shouldn’t have come. He was breaking the rules by being near heat, even if it wasn’t the real thing. And while heat didn’t make it impossible to function, his ability to give consent was now in jeopardy. The entire operation could be jeopardized just by him being here.

“Hi there,” the alpha said upon approaching him, smiling a disarmingly beautiful smile. Cathryn, her nametag read. “I’m just going to scent you really quick if that’s all right with you.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Shiro turned towards her and exposed his neck, his heart pounding. “I might smell a little—um, like post-heat. I just had it a few days ago.”

The lie slipped out easier than he’d expected. The alpha took his chin in hand and gently pressed her nose against his throat, inhaling a few times. His heart started pounding harder. She sniffed him for much longer than the others, and when she pulled back, she was frowning.

“You had your heat a few days ago?”

Shiro nodded and she let his chin go. Almost immediately he wanted her hands back on him.

“Hm. All right. Then we’re good to go here.” She nodded shortly. “Have fun on the run!”

He watched her go, biting back the urge to ask if she was participating. They had offered to match him with someone so he wouldn’t have to feel overwhelmed by choosing right before the run, but at the time he’d mostly been concerned with getting all the paperwork over with.

“All right, everyone!”

There was an alien that Shiro couldn’t name standing by the exit. He was tapping his fingers on the metal doors, indicating that they were probably going to be opening them soon.

“We’re going to head out in five. Find your partners, and if you’re alone, remember the rules. Anytime you want to tap out, give one of our support crew a call and we’ll come find you. And if we find out that you ignored the requests of your partner—” they grinned, revealing two gigantic and sharp fangs, “—we know where you live.”

There was a murmur among the crowd; excited whispers that transformed into laughter and giggles. Clearly, most of the people there saw this as a fun excursion with their partner and they weren’t taking it very seriously.

Shiro shifted, adjusting the way his shirt laid on his body. He’s chosen his athletic wear, which was light and soft on his skin. He blamed the sensitivity on nerves and adrenaline, heightening his senses and making him feel on edge.

The doors opened, and they started filtering out into the cool air. As soon as he stepped outside, Shiro breathed a relieved sigh. It wasn’t quite winter yet, so it was the perfect temperature for the run, and he could already feel himself itching to move—to get out there and do something.

He breathed in, inhaling a lungful of scents so delectable that his head snapped to where he detected them.

The alphas.

Their guides were explaining the rules again, talking about the alphas and the omegas and their respective roles throughout the run, but Shiro wasn’t paying any attention.

He was busy staring at the alphas sitting in the literal cages that the volunteers had brought. It was barbaric and a little ridiculous, but it was at least offset by the expression on the alpha’s faces, ranging from humor to boredom.

The moment they realized their omegas had arrived, a few of them started whooping and howling in an exaggerated display. A few of the omegas howled back, while others fell into loud laughter.

“Chris!” called one man, waving his hands wildly. He ran over to a dark-skinned man and grabbed his arms through the bars, grinning.

Shiro looked past him, taking in the sight of the other alphas. Most were human, but there were a few aliens in there. Shiro spotted a few galra, of all things: there was a large one, and then another tall and thin. They both looked bored, but the larger one scowled at anyone who walked by, appearing as though he found the entire situation ridiculous. It was odd behavior, considering he was the one being paid to provide a service.

Their scents wafted over, strange and different. Shiro wanted to get a closer look, but then their group was being herded to the other side of the starting line to have the rules explained to them one more time.

This time Shiro managed to pay attention, nodding along while Cathryn spoke.

“Like we’ve said before, even if you requested not to be matched, we ask that you to pick someone,” she said. “It helps to have an idea who you want to catch you, unless you want to be chased by multiple alphas.” She smirked. “Once everyone’s ready, gather back around by the starting line. You don’t need to line up, but just stay in that area.”

She pointed to a long line of rope that stretched across the grass, to their right and just past the furthest cages.

“Does anyone have any questions?”

A few hands went up. People started to drift, going to see their alphas, while a few other milled off to the side, unsure or appearing to consider the alphas that were still up for the choosing.

Shiro’s skin felt like it was buzzing. He managed to tear his eyes away from Cathryn and glanced at the cages, eyes skittering over the many faces. The combination of scents lingering wasn’t helping him any, confusing his nose and his brain.

He brushed the sweat off his forehead, then looked down at his hand.

I’m going into heat, he realized belatedly.

Shiro didn’t feel as bothered as he probably should have been. Mostly because he still felt like himself and would for quite a while yet.

I should leave.

Shiro made no move to do so, merely plucking at the collar of his shirt to get some air flowing and cool down.

It was probably the stupidest and most terrifying decision he’d made to date, but he just couldn’t get the image out of his head—the ones from when he was eighteen, when he had imagined an alpha pinning him down and having their way with him.

This wasn’t the same, because it was consensual, but that only made it better. Even if it was all his choosing, someone he didn’t know would still be chasing after him, maybe even for real.

Besides, it wasn’t like he was mid-heat, so it wouldn’t be like either of them were really out of it.

Shiro’s gaze drifted for some time, but his eyes kept straying to the same person in one of the center cages. It was the big galra from earlier; purple-furred, with large ears, standing probably a few heads or so taller than Shiro. Like most of the alphas, he was only dressed in a pair of athletic pants that did little to hide his muscled thighs and thick calves.

And he was staring. He’d been staring at Shiro for a while now, gazing at him unflinchingly with an intensity that Shiro would have otherwise found unnerving.

Whereas Shiro would normally bristle at the attention, this time he merely cocked his head, meeting the stranger’s gaze with a raised eyebrow.

The galra did not even blink. His nostrils flared, and Shiro abruptly realized why he was staring.

He knows.

His skin prickled, goosebumps raising the hairs on his arms and neck. He shivered. This galra—whoever he was—he looked strong. Really strong. He had scars on his face, and huge claws that looked like they could rip right through him.

Shiro made a soft sound in the back of his throat, wrapping his arms around himself. Inexplicably, he felt cold all of a sudden, and wondered what that fur might feel like pressed against his body, or what his teeth might feel like biting into his jugular, bonding him. Maybe by force.

I want him to catch me.

Shiro’s feet started moving on their own, walking him towards the galra until he was standing directly in front of his cage. He still hadn’t said a word, but he hadn’t looked away from Shiro, not even once.

“Hi,” Shiro said. It came out breathless, so he tried again after clearing his throat. “My name is Shiro. What’s yours?”

The galra narrowed his one good eye at Shiro. This close, his scent invaded Shiro’s nose: it was so much thicker than a human’s, so strong he might describe it as a stench if he hadn’t felt his brain go fuzzy. It was the scent of an alpha. A big, strong, virile alpha.

“Sendak.”

His voice deep, reaching somewhere inside Shiro and holding him there. He felt suspended, and he grabbed onto the bars of the cage to keep himself from feeling like he’d float away.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sendak.” Sendak’s nostrils flared again and he leaned forward, wrapping his palms carefully around the bars above Shiro’s head. The movement was restrained, like he was holding himself back. “Look, I’m going to cut to the chase. No pun intended.”

Sendak said nothing. He waited, fingers curling and uncurling around the bars slowly.

“I’m supposed to choose someone. I’m not choosing you.”

Sendak’s lips curled and the bars shook as he yanked at them with his fists. Shiro’s stomach dropped out from under him.

“And you’ve decided to tell me to earn my ire or make me feel envious of your chosen ‘alpha’,” Sendak sneered. “You waste time, and your efforts are in vain.”

“No, that’s not what I’m doing.” Shiro leaned against the bars, pressing his cheek into the cool metal. His head and heart were pounding, and he was about to make a break for it in the dim lighting of the forest at night, and this galra that he didn’t know was looking at him like he was a piece of meat. He felt reckless and wild. “I’m not choosing anyone. But I’m giving you a head start. If you catch me, I’ll let you spend my heat with me. Have you ever been with an omega in heat?”

Sendak was silent. Shiro could sense his answer would have been negative.

He stepped away from the bars, walking backwards towards the starting line, a smile slowly forming on his face. Sendak leaned forward, his nostrils flaring wide, chest expanding with each breath. Scenting the air; scenting him.

It had been bashed into their head that they—the omegas—would get a four minute head start on the alphas.

“You’ve got five minutes,” Shiro called, raising his hand in a carefree wave.

As the realization dawned on him, Sendak’s contemplative frown grew into a vicious smirk.

Back at the starting line, almost everyone who had chosen was waiting for the event to begin. There were a few that had decided to sit out and watch, but the rest were ready and raring to go. Most of them were still holding in laughter, clinging to each other as the sun finally set, casting the area in a grim darkness.

Shiro felt hot. He wanted to rip every piece of clothing off his body, but while it was allowed, he didn’t feel comfortable doing so. Besides, a few people were giving him wary glances, like they weren’t sure if he was actually going into heat or post-heat. With how similar they could smell to an omega that didn’t have the mating instinct, none of them were aware.

He just hoped the people running this whole thing didn’t notice either. The wind was blowing at his back, sending his scent forward and into the forest, which worked in his advantage. He would be harder to track.

A few more people arrived, and then there was the final demonstration as they explained the rules one more time. There was some minor grumbling from the crowd, but Shiro was hardly paying attention. Excitement and anticipation were building inside him; he had his eyes on a path to the left, between a few trees that would give him some excellent cover.

The voices quieted. Someone to Shiro’s left sneezed before they settled. The air seemed charged with a sudden electricity. Shiro kept shifting on his feet, inching forward, muscles bunched and ready to sprint.

The horn sounded, and Shiro took off like a shot.

He didn’t bother to look behind him to see if the rest of the group had followed him. He ran at full speed, arms pumping, eager to get a head start.

About a dozen yards into his run, his stomach suddenly tightened to the point of pain, flooding his body with a wave of molten heat. He stumbled, and then came to a stop, pressing his hands against his abdomen.

For a moment, he was worried he was going to be sick. He swallowed over and over, throat tight; then the feeling faded, and he became aware of something warm and wet leak out of him, soaking straight through his underwear. Shiro touched the crease of his ass to check; sure enough, it was wet with slick, and when his fingers made contact with his hole, he had to resist pressing in harder.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He was already in heat. Not pre-heat, but a full-blown, actual heat. How was he already there?

Shiro lifted his head and sniffed at the air. He hadn’t gone that far yet; he could still hear the voices of the other people from not far off, echoing loudly in the quiet forest. Behind that, he could detect the scents of the alphas from the compound, but only just.

Shiro swallowed against a flood of saliva. He licked his lips, suddenly tempted to head back and—

No. No.

He wasn’t just any omega begging to be fucked and knotted. This was his mating run, and only a worthy alpha would find him and take him.

Shiro looked past the well-lit path and walked to its edge, peering into the part of the forest they weren’t supposed to go in. The sun had set, but it wasn’t pitch-black yet. He had time. He’d be fine.

Shiro’s fingers edged towards his waistband, tugging at the fabric that was lying uncomfortably on his hips.

The voices grew closer. Shiro looked behind himself to make sure the coast was clear, and then ducked under a tree and took off.

With every step that he took, he could tell that his heat was fast approaching its apex. What had started as barely a trickle turned into a gush of fluid that stained his shorts and the backs of his thighs. Moving became more difficult as the itch of need started to prod at his hips, but he kept running, feet pounding at the ground.

Whereas he would normally be exhausted by this point, the start of his heat left him with plenty of energy that had been stored away in preparation. Even though it felt like he’d been running for ages, not once did Shiro stop. He kept going, passing in between trees and jumping over gnarled roots lying in his way. In the distance he could see lights shining from a few buildings. The cabins they were meant to use? Shiro’s had a name and a color, but it was too dark to see.

He slowed to a stop to get a better look, and that was when he heard a sound coming from behind.

Shiro froze, ears perked.

It started out faint, and for a moment Shiro thought it was the sound of a deer running through the forest like the ones he’d passed by. But then it grew closer, and he realized with a start that it was the sound of someone running. Fast.

He glanced behind him for only a split second and caught sight of a something large and distinctly person-shaped.

A hysterical giggle erupted out of Shiro. He sprinted off away from the cabins, peals of panicked laughter escaping his lips. In the second he’d seen him, he hadn’t gotten a good look, but he recognized the build of one of the bigger alphas.

A twig snapped behind Shiro. He nearly tripped on a root when vaulting over it, and that split second of hesitation gave the alpha enough time to get close enough that Shiro could hear his every exhale coming from directly behind. Shiro couldn’t smell him from the front, but he imagined it turning warm and musky with the effort of tracking and chasing him down.

He nearly stumbled again as a bolt of need shot straight through him. His cock was doing its best to get hard, and he could feel fluid dribbling down the back of his knees. The alpha had to be able to smell it. Shiro hoped he could.

He grimaced. Maybe he was closer to heat he thought. Barely a few minutes in, and Shiro was already desperate to be fucked.

That didn’t stop him from running. He kept on going, even as his lungs burned and his breath came out in exhausted huffs. He didn’t stop even as he swore he could feel the alpha’s breath on his back.

He couldn’t make himself stop running for anything less than the alpha catching him. He had to earn it.

Had it been five minutes? Shiro had no idea. He just kept going, until he stepped on a wet patch of leaves and slid forward, arms pinwheeling as he tried to right himself. He extended one of his arms to grab at the nearby tree, but before he could, someone grabbed him by the waist and slammed him into the ground.

Shiro’s vision swam viciously as his cheek met the wet combination of leaves and dirt. The alpha that had captured him quickly sat over the backs of his thighs, trapping him there. They leaned over, their breath hot on his throat.

Whoever they were, they were huge. He couldn’t see anything past their bulk from how he was lying, let alone move. Then they—he, Shiro realized—placed a hand on the back of Shiro’s neck, claws threatening the sensitive skin there.

Shiro wriggled uselessly, testing the bounds of his capture, panting, fighting against instincts that were urging him to spread his legs and part his cheeks so the alpha could plunge right in.

“Submit,” the alpha growled. Shiro recognized his voice. It was Sendak.

Despite Sendak's command, Shiro remained tense, the muscles in his shoulders and legs bunched so tight he was trembling. He stayed like that, breathing in the alpha’s musk, his brain going fuzzier and fuzzier. Slick slid down the inside of his thigh.

Sendak growled again, and this time the sound made Shiro moan in the back of his throat, shivering as a stronger gush of fluid followed.

“Submit,” he repeated, teeth brushing the back of his neck. Shiro was caged in by his body; there was nowhere he could go, even if he’d wanted to.

Shiro didn’t want to. He hadn’t wanted to since the beginning, since he’d taken one single look at Sendak and knew that he was the one he wanted.

Shiro closed his eyes and went limp.

Sendak rumbled a pleased sound and flipped Shiro onto his back, his hands tearing—literally tearing—at his shorts to rid Shiro of them.

He didn’t wait, and he didn’t ask, because he’d earned it.

Shiro was his prize.

He whimpered when Sendak grabbed him by his thighs and thrust him aside, exposing him to the moonlight. It was hard to see in the dark, but the bright yellow glow of his eye was distinguishable enough that Shiro could tell he was examining him, perhaps deciding how he wanted him.

Shiro imagined being turned around on his hands and knees, being used as a fucktoy, a warm body to sate Sendak’s need. Even though technically it was the other way around, that it was Shiro who was awash in sweat and heat.

Instead of reading his mind and fulfilling his fantasies, Sendak stayed where he was and dragged his cock alongside Shiro’s. Rutting. It was nearly double the size of his own, fat drops of precome drooling from the tip.

“God,” Shiro whined, staring at it, suffering at each brush of his big cock. He turned onto his side, dislodging Sendak and shoving him away so he could expose the part of himself that really needed Sendak’s cock. Sendak watched him for a moment, eyes training on the hand Shiro used to lift his leg and reached behind his back, fingers seeking entry at his hole.

The moment they made contact Sendak’s hand shot out to still his progress, the growl that erupted out of him so loud and fierce that Shiro went completely still.

His other hand was at Shiro’s throat again, but it wasn’t threatening. He just…held it there, keeping Shiro pressed into the ground, showing him exactly what he was capable of.

Shiro trembled, itching, aching, and more slick gushed over the backs of his thighs when Sendak’s teeth ghosted over his throat. With no other choice, he Shiro went obligingly limp once again. He felt Sendak’s grin, then saw it when he pulled his head back.

Without uttering another word Sendak freed his hands, using one to angle his cock, and the other to hook Shiro’s leg over his shoulder so he couldn’t dislodge himself, leaving him wide open.

Sendak’s cock was so close, so close. Shiro bit his lip, toes curling, resisting squirming even though it was all he wanted to do.

“C’mon,” he begged. “C’mon, come on, plea—”

Sendak cut him off before he could plead anymore, sliding inside with a wet squelch.

Shiro’s resulting moan was pure, utter relief. He hadn’t realized how badly it had gotten until he finally got what he’d been craving, what he needed. He tossed his head back, biting down on his lip, awash with pleasure as Sendak’s cock filled him all the way and then some.

Sendak’s mouth was back on his throat again, teeth hanging right above the jugular, like he knew it was where humans were most fragile. Shiro moaned as quietly as he could manage, which wasn’t much when he was speared on Sendak’s cock.

Sendak groaned in his ear, low and deeply satisfied, and then he started fucking him, wasting no time in working up to speed.

And he was big. It made Shiro’s head buzz with satisfaction knowing that the alpha that had caught him was as big and strong as he’d hoped. He was vaguely aware of some pain, but that was washed away quickly by the euphoria.

“God, yes,” Shiro breathed, barely aware that he was speaking. Each thrust sent Shiro skidding along the wet undergrowth, punctuated by his pleasured yelps. “Yes, yes, yes yes yes!”

Sendak growled deep in the center of his chest, curling forward, the new angle burying him that much more firmly inside Shiro. He kept fucking him, pulling Shiro down onto his cock, like it was that easy, like he could crush Shiro under his hands, but he was choosing to fuck him instead.

Each powerful thrust sent lightning bolts of heat straight to Shiro’s cock. It felt like he’d come once already. He reached up to curl his hand around Sendak’s shoulders, maybe give himself a little breathing room, but Sendak caught his hand and pinned it to the ground. It wrenched at Shiro’s shoulder—not enough to hurt, but enough that it forced his back against the ground while Sendak was still pistoning in and out of him with no sign of slowing.

Then, in an unexpected move Sendak pulled all the way out, followed by a hot flood of Shiro’s slick.

“Wait—no! No no no!”

Shiro let out a panicked whine. In a heat-induced daze, thoughts too muddled to think properly, he mistook Sendak’s movements as an attempt to pin him down without giving him what he needed, leaving him empty and aching. He jerked his shoulder to try and escape Sendak’s iron grip to no avail.

“Please, keep going, please, please don’t stop—”

Another growl, this one less threatening and more coaxing. It sounded warm in his chest, almost like a purr, and then Sendak pinned both of Shiro’s hands to the ground and nudged his thighs underneath Shiro’s legs, silent encouragement to wrap them around his waist.

Shiro was blind to it. He didn’t understand why Sendak wasn’t fucking him; he was so wet he was dripping, and he wanted to be knotted so badly. Didn’t Sendak want him?

He didn’t realize he was still pleading with Sendak until he pressed his mouth to Shiro’s throat, licking long, hot stripes up the length. He kept doing this, licking at him and rutting against the inside of his thigh until Shiro quieted.

“Calm yourself,” Sendak rumbled. His hand landed on Shiro’s hip, tugging at it. “Release me. I can’t mate you if you won’t let me.”

Shiro frowned, but he followed Sendak’s command, understanding dawning once Sendak fed his cock back inside him now that he had the room to do so. The position urged him even deeper, right at the hot core raveled tight inside him.

“Oh god, I’m—right there.” Shiro broke off as Sendak thrust all the way inside, grinding the base of his knot up into him roughly, and the following cry that came out of Shiro’s mouth was close to a sob. Sendak was so big and so deep inside him, and when he came, Sendak kept him pinned to the ground and didn’t stop fucking him, even when Shiro started screaming.

Whatever Galra cocks were made of, it was driving him nuts. Shiro squirmed, digging his feet into Sendak’s back, and in a powerful display, Sendak shifted into a low crouch, bending Shiro nearly in half to better fuck him.

Shiro’s voice nearly gave out when he came the second time. Sendak threaded their fingers, pressed up against his front, claws digging into the soft earth underneath the back of Shiro’s hands. He nuzzled Shiro’s throat, growling when Shiro’s moans reached new heights. He couldn’t keep quiet for the life of him, and when Sendak knotted him—god.

Shiro had taken a dozen knots in his life, of all varying sizes. But Sendak was on an entirely new level. The first knotting was usually the worst, and this time Shiro was almost certain they were going to send someone eventually to check on the noise. His throat felt raw.

“Such lovely squeals,” Sendak said, rolling his hips to seat the knot in place. Shiro sobbed a little as he lodged it right up against his prostate. "It’s a good thing I found you before someone else encroached upon what was mine.”

In heat, it was hard to focus on anything other than Sendak knot and fucking him. His words registered, but they didn’t really matter. He watched Sendak lift his head and sniff at the air, but his eyes followed the line of his throat, shifting down to stare at the way his pecs flexed in the moonlight.

“C’mon,” he whined, groping at his waist, not sure what he was asking. “C’mon, come on.”

Sendak turned to him and growled again. He raised his hand, and for a wild moment Shiro thought it was headed for his throat. But it landed over his mouth, keeping him quiet.

Shiro’s eyes flickered to the left. He could hear the voices now; Sendak had probably heard them way further off. It should have bothered him that he could hear them, but he was mostly unphased, focused entirely on Sendak, the alien with a big cock and a gorgeous knot that was slowly driving him insane.

Shiro shifted subtly, trying to rock down onto Sendak’s thick knot, but the position made that difficult. He couldn’t get a good angle, and each time he failed he whined a little louder, a little needier.

After a time Sendak swore, moving his hand away from Shiro’s mouth and down to his waist. He hooked his chin over Shiro’s shoulder and brought his hands around his ass, hiking him higher against his chest.

“Grab onto me,” he commanded. Shiro instantly obeyed, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Sendak braced his feet and then lifted the two of them. “Hold on,” he added, as if Shiro wasn’t clinging desperately. Moments later, the knot slipped out of his body and Sendak burst into motion, taking off towards the cabins.

“Direct me to your cabin,” Sendak declared. It took a few seconds for Shiro to understand what was being said, and by that point Sendak had already started approaching each cabin, searching for his name.

“Thir-third from the end,” Shiro managed. He buried his face in Sendak’s throat, inhaling. God, the scent on the man. “Black name plate.”

Sendak hurried to the cabin, bursting inside like they were being chased. Considering how Shiro hurried him along, pressing open-mouthed kisses and hasty pleas into his fur, he couldn’t blame him.

They made it to the bed in record time. Sendak threw Shiro onto the sheets, using that same incredible strength to shove Shiro into place, spreading his thighs so he could bury himself inside his wet heat.

Had Shiro been of his right mind, he might have been terrified to have a stranger mandhandling him and pinning him down while he fucked him, but by that point, he didn’t care. He didn’t care that Sendak fucked him with a specific kind of ruthlessness that he knew would leave bruises all over his hips and thighs, and he didn’t care that he could feel Sendak’s claws burying themselves into his skin.

Everything about Sendak was alien. The way he looked, the way he acted, the way he fucked—and Shiro loved it. He loved every second. It was like a dream.

By the third time being knotted, Shiro was so deep in heat that when someone knocked on the door, he clung to Sendak’s shoulders and begged him to make them go away.

“Don’t let them take me away,” he pleaded with him. “Please, please, I need you. I need you more than they do. You’re my alpha. They can’t have you.”

“Mine,” Sendak said, as much a claim as it was affirmation of Shiro’s current state of mind. He turned, eyeing the door with distaste, and growled that same low, deep growl that Shiro had heard when he’d first found him.

Submit.

Shiro shuddered, biting down on his knuckles. He felt like a live wire, overheated and constantly on the edge. Sendak’s cock was lodged fully inside him, filling him with his come, and Shiro himself had come half a dozen times already, but it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

Eventually they left, quiet murmurs disappearing. Shiro could finally breathe—though it didn’t last long.

Shiro hadn’t been prepared for a heat. Exhaustion crept up on him quicker than he’d like. It got bad enough that Shiro lost his voice completely, moving on fumes alone, and Sendak forcibly held him down against the bedsheets, laying his hand over Shiro throat each time he tried to beg.

“Please?” he croaked, sounding close to a sob. “Please? I’ll be good, I’ll be so good. Please!”

“You are resting. Then you will eat and drink. And then we bathe. And only then will I fuck you.”

“Fuck me now and I’ll let you mate me.” Shiro tried to wriggle onto his cock, desperate to get out of his hold and fuck himself, but Sendak merely blinked at him placidly. “You know how to mate an omega, right? It’s easy, you just have to bite—”

“I have no interest in marking you,” Sendak interrupted. Shiro’s mouth snapped shut, and heart sank in an instant. Sendak cocked his head, stroking the side of his face with his large hand, and said, “You are already mine.”

“Oh,” Shiro said, quietly elated. Maybe not so much when his heat was over, but for now, that was the best thing he’d heard all night. “Okay. So you’ll fuck me?”

Sendak breathed through his nose. He changed positions, pushing Shiro back against the sheets. It wasn’t obvious what he was trying to do until he nuzzled Shiro’s cock with his mouth and dragged his fingers through the slick still gathering.

“Be still,” he warned, tongue darting out to brush over the tip of his cock. Shiro shuddered.

They fucked long into the morning, long after Shiro was supposed to have checked in. He was filled with come over and over, stuffed so full he worried there’d be no end to it. Sendak didn’t seem bothered by Shiro’s lack of refractory period, and even though he forced him to rest occasionally, refusing to even touch him, Shiro never felt neglected.

He felt sated. He felt good. He never wanted it to end.

****

He felt like shit.

The end of Shiro’s heat was always marked by a splitting headache, and this time was no exception.

A full day after he’d started his heat, Shiro woke up and felt like himself for the first time. At first, he lied in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying not to look directly at the big purple alien lying beside him, but eventually his bladder won out and he slipped out of bed. Or rather, he tried to.

Crumpled may have been a better descriptor; thanks to Sendak, Shiro’s body was covered in bruises, scratches, and scars. When he attempted to walk to the bathroom, he had to pause and hold onto the edge of the bed while his legs screamed at him in protest.

God, everything hurt.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed, planting one hand along his hip. In the heat of the moment it hadn’t bothered him, but maybe he should have warned Sendak to be more careful of his frail human skin.

He glanced over at the body lying still in bed. Even curled on his side, Sendak appeared gigantic. Shiro swallowed, thinking about the teeth against his throat.

This had to be one of the stupidest things he’d ever done in his entire life. Once he spoke to those in charge, he was probably going to receive a serious reprimand. If he wasn’t immediately given the boot for endangering everyone involved.

After using the bathroom, Shiro took stock of his surroundings. Observing the cabin had been the last thing on his mind when he’d been in heat, but upon inspection, there wasn’t anything too impressive about it. Other than a bathroom and a small kitchen, it was unremarkable.

“Where are my clothes?” Shiro wondered aloud, realizing a moment later that Sendak had ripped them off his body. Right.

He glanced at Sendak again. As far as he was aware, he was still sleeping. Did the people here provide a change of clothing? How often were they supposed to check in on couples? The more Shiro thought about it, the more he realized he’d hardly paid attention to anything that had truly been important. He didn’t even know what time they were supposed to return.

Shiro’s phone buzzed on the end table. He wasn’t aware Sendak had retrieved it for him.

“Hey…uh, Sendak?” he tried, surprised when Sendak rolled over and met his eyes. “Um. Did I—did you get my phone for me?”

“While you slept,” Sendak confirmed. “You left it where I caught you.”

“Oh. Wow. Thanks.” Shiro shuffled over to the left, towards the doorway, then back to the right when he remembered he wasn’t wearing anything clothing. He stopped, because he didn’t know what he was supposed to do with himself. He was in the post-heat state, fragile and still seeking comfort from his alpha.

With no other options, Shiro turned away from Sendak and went back into the bathroom. The space was small, a far-cry from the one Shiro had to himself at the Garrison. He stared at himself in the mirror, grimacing at the sight of hickeys and bitemarks all along his neck and throat. A good number of them were concentrated where Shiro could have been marked. Could being the operative word.

Sendak hadn’t marked him. The revelation was as relieving as it was disappointing.

A hand that wasn’t his own slipped over his shoulder, near the base of his throat.

Shiro watched Sendak shuffle in behind him, his size made even more extreme in the tiny space. He didn’t bother to ask permission as he bent down and peppered Shiro’s throat with kisses, paying special attention to where Shiro’s gaze had lied.

“You begged me to mark you,” he said into his skin. His hands landed on Shiro’s hips. “You begged me to make you mine. You did not understand when I explained how it works for the galra.”

“I remember something like that.” Shiro laid his hand over Sendak’s, trying not to blush as he worked his way over his shoulder. “I think. How does it work again?”

Sendak met his eyes in the mirror. Inexplicably, he smirked, and then shuffled past him to use the bathroom.

Shiro never did get an answer out of him. Not long after, there came a knock at their door and they were preoccupied with the situation Shiro had gotten them into.

The only reason that they’d been left alone was apparently because of Sendak. He explained that he had deterred anyone from entering by claiming he went into rut, and that it had triggered a latent heat in Shiro. It was flimsy as far as excuses went, but Shiro was grateful he didn’t have to try and explain what he was doing in heat when he had explicitly denied it from the beginning.

“Why are you helping me?” Shiro asked while he gathered his things, including the clothes provided for him. It was a simple black tank and a pair of shorts. They didn’t feel great on his post-heat skin, but he didn’t have much of a choice.

“I have no reason not to help you,” Sendak replied, which wasn’t much of an answer at all. Shiro watched him get dressed, turning away only when he made a phone call and began speaking in a language Shiro didn’t understand.

They barely spoke as they gathered themselves and then met up at the facility. Shiro was examined and questioned to ensure that he was alright, but he assured them that he had enjoyed his time with Sendak, and that it was entirely consensual.

“I realized I was going into heat and decided to do it even after I figured it out. Sendak’s a nice guy.”

He didn’t actually know that, and based on the way he was limping around, he wasn’t sure anyone bought it. But because he didn’t seem outwardly stressed, they let them go without further questioning.

All Shiro knew was that for the galra, mating was different. No bite-marks were involved. At least not the kind Shiro was thinking of.

Had he been mated? Shiro wasn’t sure he was ready to know that answer, so he didn’t ask. Instead, he stood by Sendak while he waited for his ride to show up (he’d called in a favor with Hunk), and Sendak watched over him.

“Will you be all right going home on your own?” Sendak asked. His expression didn’t change, the but inflection in his voice suggested he did care. Shiro felt a little better thinking about it like that.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thanks for looking out for me. I know I didn’t exactly…ask.”

Sendak scoffed. “I understood the rules, and I also understand how you yearned to break them. You are a fascinating individual for it.”

Shiro rubbed his forearm, oddly uneasy at Sendak’s assessment of him.

“Well,” he said, spotting Hunk’s car turning the corner. “I’ll see you later, I guess? Do you have a phone number I can reach?”

“I will find you,” Sendak promised him. Shiro blinked.

“What—”

“Hey,” Hunk interrupted, rolling down his window. “Shiro! You ready, buddy?”

“Hunk, hi! Yeah, I’m ready.” He glanced back at Sendak, noting the way his eyes followed him on his way to the passenger side door. “Thanks again, Sendak.” He paused with the door still open and offered an awkward wave. “Have a good one.”

Have a good one? Really?

Shiro wanted to wince. Instead, he slid into the car, mentally beating himself for giving Sendak such a terrible goodbye. Thankfully, Sendak didn’t seem bothered; if anything, the smirk on his face told Shiro that he was amused. And maybe he’d see him again if Sendak’s words weren’t all talk. Whatever they meant.

Smiling, Shiro turned his gaze out the window.

“So who was that guy?" Hunk asked, eyeing him. "And why do you smell like you drank his bathwater?”

Shiro’s smile turned into an embarrassed grin. Fascinating indeed.

[inkstainedfingersfabray]

Getting To Know Me: Juliette Celeste Fabray

How quick are you to suspect someone else? Does this change if you are close with that person? Before I found out that my Poppa was a whole heap of words I can’t say here (both because I don’t want my Momma boxing my ears, and because of my younger fans), I would have said no.  Now, I reckon it’s still no for the most part, but it was a long, hard, painful journey to get back to that point. I hated feeling that way. I hated the little voice at the back of my head that was constantly asking ‘what are they hiding’ about people that I loved and trusted my whole life. It took a lot of time and effort to learn how to ignore that voice. And I do have to ignore it because I never fully got rid of it. It still pops up sometimes, and I hate that too. And I will never forgive my Poppa for putting that voice in my head.

How easy or difficult is it for you to say “I love you?” Can you say it without meaning it? Are you talking about romantic love, or platonic love, or family love? Because I generally don’t have much trouble with either of the last two. Family is family, and with one or two notable exceptions, I love every one of them and have no problem letting them know that. Same goes for friends (once we’re close enough, that is, I’m not dropping the L-word on someone I just met... most of the time, anyway). Romantically... I think if you’re going to say those words to someone in that way, you need to be absolutely sure that you mean them. It’s not fair to anyone involved if you say them without being positive that you’re ready to follow through on them, through thick and thin, good times or bad, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live.

What makes you angry? People being thoughtless. Particularly the people who don’t put their grocery buggies back properly, but any kind of thoughtless gets my dander up.

Are you generally a more gentle and soft-spoken person or a louder and rougher person? Is ‘very energetic gentle’ an option? I don’t reckon I’m loud for the most part, but I can be insistent which some people consider the same thing.

Who in your life has been the most healing for you? My Momma, hands down. After her, a fair few of my friends and family are more or less tied for second.

Have you ever considered marrying someone? What is your opinion on marriage in general? In general, yes, of course I’ve thought about it. And in spite of my Poppa trying his best to make the notion a non-starter, I do want that life. I want a partner who loves me and who I love, I want kids, I want the white picket fence, and the two point five pets running around the yard. I want that.  I’m not sure I want it right now, but I do want that. And I hope that when the time comes, when my other half and I are both ready to take that step, we will.

What is the most traumatic experience in your life? Physically? That is not a story I’m willing to tell all y’all and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.  Emotionally? Finding out my father had been cheating on our entire family since before I was born was a pretty big hit. Nearly losing one of the two sisters I learned that he’d been hiding from us when she had a car accident a few months later was another. Really, it was probably that whole span of time between the two. And a little bit after. And while it was an amazing thing and I don’t regret it one bit, finding out I was going to become a published author before I graduated University was an emotional rollercoaster all its own. I don’t know if you’d count that as traumatic, but I lost more than a few night's sleep as a result.

If you could be immortal, would you want to be? What kind of immortality are we talking about? Would I be stuck at the age I am now forever, or would it be a sort of Phoenix-style thing where I get reborn every time I die, with all my memories and skills intact? I don’t see wanting the former, but I might say yes to the latter, at least that way I’d get to grow old with the people I love. Losing them would still suck, but at least I’d have those memories and experiences, and I think that would help in a way that, if I was eternally young, I would miss out on. On the other hand, either way, I’d never get to be with them again... I’m going to have to think one this one a bit.

What is a smell you really like? My Momma’s cooking. Books. Radiators that are being turned on for the first time in a while. Old books. Magnolias. Candy Corn. Popcorn (movie theatre style in particular). Hot chocolate with extra marshmallows. The smell of freshly-rained-on-soil after a long, dry spell. Really old books

Do you consider yourself a good person? What’s the best thing you’ve ever done for somebody?  I consider myself a good enough person that I don’t keep track of what I do for other people. I’m not even sure how you’d judge that. A smile as you hold the door open for someone who’s had a bad day might do more good than a week’s worth of volunteer work.  That one little act of kindness might help turn that person’s whole attitude around, which helps them get the job they were interviewing for later that afternoon, which gives them the healthcare they need to look after their kids, while that whole week of volunteer work might end up with a hundred pamphlets in a hundred trashcans and little else. 

[all-hail-the-witcher]

oh id adore a part two to that fic, even if the ending isn't happy

ah yes, the one request I didnt send fizz

here is part one

also hi fizz, babe, this is your other christmas present ;       )

_________

am I just a monster in a cage?

ship: I guess ralbert

genre: angst with no happy ending

warnings: implied past sex and abuse and prostitution, going insane, mental breakdown, very raw emotions

editing: minimal

words: 479

_________

Race sobbed into the deafening quiet, overwhelmed and upset with his actions. 

Why was he like this?

No.

Why was he still like this?

Why did this matter to him?

Why did he look for approval in other people?

Why did he still have to feel things?

Why couldn’t be just learn to control his damn emotions already?

Why had his inner monster been unleashed?

Another sob ripped through Race’s throat, sounding like a caged animal, yearning for freedom.

Ah, yes, freedom: The thing that was always one foot above ground when he was buried six feet under.

Freedom was a trick, a deception of the mond: as soon as you thought you had it, it was gone, disappearing through the cracks of your fingers and into the life of the next longing person.

Why did freedom still choose to fight him?

Why?

Why?

He was supposed to be better now, unbroken and tough, hardened by his experiences; yet, one person had the capability of breaking through all his carefully constructed walls in one fateful night.

In the spur of the moment he had given him everything he had: himself.

Hell, he could still see his shining eyes, feel his thick red hair, hear his cute little moans, taste the salt on his skin, smell his drugstore cologne.

And what had it been worth?

A mere few fleeting moments of happiness had cost him his sanity.

The storm was awake now.

The fear was alive.

The only thing he could feel now.

Race looked at his bruised wrist, bathing in a soothing bath of his own tears.

The pain had faded hours ago, but the feeling, the contact, the loud smack! still rang in his ears.

The confusion in his eyes.

How did he not see that he was hurting him?

The very person who, mere minutes before, was holding him like he was the most beautiful thing in the world.

The very person who, mere minutes before, had told him he was the most beautiful thing in the world in the most luxurious, deeply captivating voice he’d ever heard.

And then his lips were on someone else’s.

And someone else was calling him baby.

He was supposed to be kissing him.

He was supposed to be calling him baby.

And what did he get instead?

A smack.

A harsh voice.

A flashback.

A head full of regret.

A frozen heart.

A monster trapped inside himself.

The monster screamed.

Race felt his throat tear in half.

His tears soaked his newly sprouted mane.

His mind fought with what was real and what was fake.

He covered his ears.

The monster was no longer trapped in a cage.

He was the monster.

Hardened by his experiences.

Emotionless from feeling too much emotion.

Raging like the beast inside him.

Why was he like this?

No.

Why was he still like this?

_________

okay so thats what happened to race

also this took me months to plan ahhhh

and yet I wrote it in an hour

fizz I hope you liked eeeeee merry belated christmas baby

feedback is always appreciated hmu to be on the taglist and If you rb make sure you comment

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@deathcast-s

@the-poodles-of-pulitzer

@hopefully-not-the-ghostbusters

[why-is-that-funny]

Destiny - Chapter One

soooooo this is chapter one! meet virgil! 

tags: brief child abuse, mild panic attack, cursing like a sailor, verbal abuse, super mild self-harm (pulling his own hair)

Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five (Interlude), Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten (Interlude)

Virgil discovered just how strange he was when he was seventeen.

Virgil had recently been placed in yet another foster home, and this one was one of the worst. The parents already had three other children - and it was clear that they kept taking kids in for the money only. He had only been there for a week so far, and already he was spiraling.

The house was a wreck. Peeling yellow wallpaper, off-color carpeting that had hundreds of stains, the musty smell of cigarettes and dirty towels, it was a dump. But, Virgil at least had a bed, so he wasn’t complaining...much.

His foster father was screaming again - either at his wife or one of the other foster children, Virgil didn’t know. Either way, his booming voice had traveled through the walls, and Virgil scuttled under his bed, shaking as the man continued to shout abuse. He had realized quite early on that the easiest way to survive the more volatile parents was to stay out of sight.

This is fine. I’m fine. oh god he’s gonna come in here and scream and scream and scream- A loud smack echoed through the threadbare house, and Virgil froze. The man had never gotten physically violent before, at least not in the week he had been here. His heart galloped in his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut, his hands curling up into fists. He was safe under the bed. He wasn’t going to go out there, he wasn’t... Muffled sobs were drowned out by his angry screaming, and Virgil felt himself slowly cave. Just a look. Just to see if this is actually happening. I’ll run right back into the room, he reassured himself as he slowly opened the bedroom door, wincing as it creaked.

The sound was muffled by the screaming, and Virgil tiptoed down the stairs - only to stop in his tracks. Fuck! It was the little girl, crying snotty tears as the man shook her by her shirt. Honestly, Virgil couldn’t say that he made a conscious decision to help. He reacted purely on instinct, jumping down the rest of the stairs and shoving the man away from her with a snarl on his face, palms open as he held his hands in front of him defensively. “Back up.” He growled out, then said to the girl. “Go to your room. Now! Take the house phone and call 911!” The little girl darted to the side and grabbed the phone before running up the stairs and slamming the door, the mans face turning bright red as he stalked forwards near Virgil. “How dare you, you disrespectful little shit! After I took you in!” He shouted, and Virgil held his hands in front of himself defensively, slamming his eyes closed. He heard the man gasp and opened his eyes a bit. Two rings of purple magic were spinning in Virgils hands.

The man blanched in fear, taking two steps backwards. “You- you freak! What the hell is that?! Is that MAGIC?!” Virgil blinked in shock at the spinning runes, his breath leaving his chest in a whoosh. His eyes snapped back to the man, who was going ballistic. “Get the fuck out of my house! Get out, you miserable freak!” Virgil didn’t hesitate and bolted out the door, his mind racing as he ran with no direction. Okay, just what the fuck was that?! Good going Virgil, now you’re homeless, and apparently can do magic - which hasn’t been seen in over hundreds of years. As if you weren’t a freak to begin with! What the hell is wrong with me?! “Fuck.” He muttered, ducking into an empty alleyway and crouching, resting his head in between his knees. His chest was heaving and he couldn’t catch his breath. “Get it the fuck together!” He hissed to himself, grabbing his hair and pulling it in an effort to distract himself from the oncoming panic attack. Okay. Okay. Focus on the magic thing first. Then worry about where you’re gonna be sleeping tonight. Maybe this magic crap can help with that. Where the fuck am I gonna learn about magic?! It hasn’t been seen or used in the last decade! Oh. The library. I can ask if they have any books related to the subject...but what about an actual roof over my head?! I can’t go back to the house, even if the girl called the cops...They would take me away, lock me up in a cage, experiment on me - because apparently I’m magic, as if my life wasn’t already hard enough!

Virgil let out a tiny sob in his hoodie sleeve, tears and snot soaking the fabric. “Why me?” He whispered, rubbing his eyes. He let out a shaky breath and looked down at his hands, studying them intently. They looked like normal hands. There were no purple spinning wheels of glowing magic.

“M-maybe it was a fluke.” He said quietly, but his gut was telling him that wasn’t the case. He put his hands up, palms out, and focused on pushing.

The magic wheels returned, spinning wildly, glowing a rich purple. Virgil yelped and instinctively tried to push them away, only to make the trashcan across from him fly out of the alley, spilling garbage all over.

Well, not a fluke then.