animamaxi3d

[sophiethewitch1]

( So sick of being the only one who comes up with my sorts of fanfic ideas like wth... )

I saw this and , what Fanfic's do you Want Ideas for ?

I hope I can give you some Ideas (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

(⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠)

oh no i didnt mean like, i was lacking in ideas or anything! i have too many ideas actually im surrounded by plot bunnies which i follow down countless rabbit holes. i just meant like ridiculously over complicated plots with unique concepts that are long fics.... the only fandom ive seen do anything similar is the sans x reader dudes lmfao

[night-fallz]

Jason Todd x Avengers Crossover

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

Ao3 // Wattpad

previous II next

Unexpected (part 2)

Two days have passed since Clint was saved by Jason. And for some reason, he still can't get the vigilante out of his mind.

Natasha teased him about it but he knows that if she sees Jason in action, she would be intrigued as well.

The way he fought was mesmerizing. Every bullet that was shot was so precisely aimed that the wounds weren't deadly.

Sure it knocked them out, but they weren't gonna die.

That form of marksmanship was only earned through years of hard work. And Clint's worked with Bucky enough times to know that Jason somehow predicted the next move of the attackers, aiming at the non-lethal body parts.

He has a feeling that Bucky and Jason would make an incredible duo.

Which is why he needs them to meet.

Clint doesn't usually do this but the more he thought about the bucket-wearing vigilante, the higher his list of questions got.

He took out his phone, leaning against the couch as he searched for the man that saved him.

vigilante wearing red bucket

He scrolled through google trying to find a decent article on the guy.

After thirty whole minutes of barely finding information, Clint wanted to throw his phone across the room. So far, all he's figured out was that Jason's territory was in Gotham and that his vigilante name is 'Red Hood'.

Which was... creative in a way?

At least it wasn't 'Red Bucket' or 'Bucket Head' or anything like that. It was definitely better than 'Green Arrow'.

After another failed search, he decided to finally give up. There was nothing about Red Hood. All the articles were mainly about Batman, Nightwing, a restaurant place, and a Robin!

He groaned and put his face in his hands. He doesn't care about those overrated heroes, he wants to find out more about Red Hood.

The guy was so cool... he wonders why there were barely any pieces written about him. The few sentences that he's read about the vigilante almost always depicted him in a bad light.

Which was honestly unfair.

He stared at his phone, contemplating on whether or not he should ask Natasha.

On the positive side, he knows that the assassin would have information on Red Hood. Natasha has information on everyone.

But...

Clint didn't want Natasha to tease him even more! If she keeps up with the sarcastic comments then the other Avengers would be curious. And curious Avengers meant nosy people.

He felt himself shiver, really nosy people.

He swears that if he had a sister— older or younger, they would act exactly like how Natasha was acting right now.

He could practically imagine the smirk she was wearing on her face when she picked up.

"Hey, Clint." she casually greeted, "How are you?"

He refrained from gritting his teeth, "I'm doing good." he paused, eyes closing as he took a breath in, this hurt to admit. "I need your help."

"I know."

"What do you know about the Red Hood?"

"The Red Hood?" she hummed under her breath, "Let's see."

Clint heard her moving things around, then he could distinctly hear the noise of paper being flipped. "Do you just have documents of random vigilantes lying around your room?" he couldn't help but ask. "Is this an assassin thing?"

Does Bucky do this too?

"I'm getting you the information you need." she reminded, "How I keep track of the data I have is none of your business."

"Okay, okay." he surrendered, a smile making its way onto his face. "But why don't you just keep it on a computer? Wouldn't that make things easier for you?"

She ignored his question, "Red Hood is an excellent marksman," she stated. "He made his debut as a crime lord by showing a bunch of people a duffel bag filled with the heads of notorious criminals."

Clint let out a whistle, "That is an intense introduction. He's even better than I thought he would be."

"Yeah," Natasha agreed. "He's easily one of the most dangerous and capable vigilantes in Gotham. In a matter of months, he's managed to bring crime down Crime Alley by at least fifty percent. Something that Batman himself, couldn't do. His methods were vicious, but they worked. Extremely well. He's killed a lot of child molesters, human traffickers, and rapists."

Even though Natasha couldn't see him, he tilted his head to the side, biting the inside of his cheek. Clint could care less about what methods Jason used. If they worked, they worked. And it's not like those criminals didn't deserve it. It's just-

Killing takes a lot out of you. Especially when you're young. Clint would know.

He had no doubt in his head that Jason was an incredible fighter. Not to mention that he was also huge— in both height and muscle.

He can see why he has a majority of Gotham fooled.

But, for about a minute, after they won against the ninjas, Jason removed his helmet in order to get a breath of fresh air.

A mask might've been covering his eyes, but Clint's been in the vigilante business for years now. He remembers clear as day, just how young the vigilante looked under the sun.

When Clint first started, he was thankful that he had Natasha to talk to whenever things got hard. Whenever he felt guilty for taking someone's life. No matter how much they deserved it.

Hell, he's still thankful for Natasha now. Without her, Clint would probably be dead. His body found bleeding out in an abandoned area, a neat row of scars on his thighs and arms.

He hopes that Jason has a friend like Natasha. Someone who'd be there for him no matter what. Someone who'd remind him that he was worth it. That he was loved.

Cause if not, then there is no way that the kid is okay.

Natasha's sharp voice interrupted his thoughts, "That was a few years ago. As far as I know, he doesn't kill anymore. The farthest that Hood would go now would be to permanently cripple someone. And even then, he would only do that when the person did something unforgivable."

After a few seconds of silence, Clint opened his mouth. "Is that it?" he couldn't help but question.

"Nope," Natasha admitted. "But it's all I'm willing to tell you."

"Fine then," he smirked. "Keep your assassiny secrets. I got more than I expected anyways."

"What did you get yourself into, Clint? Why all the sudden interest in him? Why all the sudden interest in a vigilante in Gotham?"

He knows that Natasha was just looking out for him. She was worried. "Do you remember a few days ago when I was saved by this Jason guy?" he asked.

"Yeah? You've been talking about him nonstop. He saved your ass and you gave him your number." she paused before adding, "Your private one."

He nodded, "Yeah. Well, he's the Red Hood."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. I searched him up and he had the same costume and everything."

"And he actually said that his name was Jason?"

"Yep." he tried to casually say, "It's probably cause Jason's a popular name and stuff."

"Maybe." Natasha hesitantly agreed, "But anyway, since you gave him your number, I think you should know that I've always wanted to meet him so if he texts you soon..."

Her voice trailed off and Clint couldn't hold in his sigh, "Yeah, yeah. I'll arrange a meet-up or whatever."

Her voice automatically brightened, "Actually?"

The corner of his mouth lifted, "Sure. But I wanted to introduce him to Bucky first."

Natasha made a shocked sound of betrayal, "Wha- but Clint!" she whined, "I'm the one who's asking. Not him."

"I know."

It took everything in him to stop the laugh from escaping his mouth.

Complaints about how unfair Clint was being made their way onto his ears and he relished each and every one of them. It wasn't often that he had something Natasha wanted.

Revenge was sweet.

After a few minutes, he let out an incredibly fake gasp. "Sorry, Natasha. I gotta go. I have a kitchen emergency."

"What the fuck, Clint." she demanded, "You don't even know how to cook. Remember the omelet incident? What emerg-"

He hung up.

Clint's definitely going to regret ending the call later. He knows it.

But right now, he could care less.

He has something Natasha wants, so she won't murder him.

... hopefully.

He hopes that he runs into the vigilante soon. Jason was cool and pretty fun to talk to. Clint definitely won't mind fighting at Red Hood's side once more.

They worked really well together.

While they were fighting, he knew that Jason was gonna have his back. He knew that Jason wasn't gonna let him get hurt. It was weird, considering that was the first encounter he's ever had with him.

He doesn't know when Jason is gonna decide to use his number, but he hopes that it'll be soon.

He has questions. And whenever Jason was ready, Clint hopes that he can answer.

Starting with the one that's been clouding his head; why did the Red Hood stop killing?

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

notes:

okay, I didn’t expect to write a chapter this soon. but reading all the comments you guys left on the previous chapter motivated me. to be honest, I didn’t expect this fanfic to get as many hits as it did.

I don’t know when I’m planning on posting this chapter but right now, my goal is to write as much as I can.

I also don’t know exactly how busy my sophomore year of high school will be, but I feel like it’s better to be safe than sorry. Especially if I make the school volleyball team.

I finished writing this chapter on August 8th, and I have tryouts on the 9th through the 11th from 4-6 pm. (wish me luck!)

like always, please, please, please, leave a comment. i love reading them and they just motivate me so much! Whenever I get author’s block, I just re-read them and they help so, so much. If you don’t wanna leave a comment, that’s fine. If you liked this fanfic, please hit that kudos button though.

and if you just wanna chat or if you want to request any ideas or prompts, just message me here.

ooh, and if there’s anything specific you want to read in this series, please tell me. It never hurts to have any extra ideas. plus, I really want to make this fic more enjoyable for everyone.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Like Real People Do

Warnings: noncon/dubcon elements (rough sex, oral), deception.

This is dark!Loki and ft. some Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: You’re a temp in Stark Tower by day and a fanfic writer by night. What happens when your professional life collides with your secret hobby?

Note: Brief break from HSB but I’m gonna be working on that today and hopefully figuring out when I’ll finish my other pending series. I need to wrap some stuff up so I can move on to newer series, etc. But for now, I hope you like some sneaky Loki.(inspired by an anon ask) Love you guys!

Leave some feedback, like and reblog if you can <3

It was your second week at the tower. You were still in disbelief. Working with larger than life heroes. Literally. And a paid internship no less. It was like a scene out of your very own fic. Well, those could stay a secret. Especially here. 

The golden haired vet and his billionaire pal didn't need to know about your blog. Or that they were the main attraction of it. Or that you had a notebook in your bag of all the ideas that came to you as you typed away at your desk. And who would guess the new assistant was anything but a chipper upstart?

It was almost thrilling. Smiling at them as the plots whirred in your mind. The comments of other thirsty fangirls. And it was all harmless. Just fantasies. Dreams. You'd get your job experience and be on the way all while fueling your illicit hobby. 

It was busy that day. Traffic came in and out as you waved them along and checked in when Tony buzzed. It was an easy job and time passed quickly with the people.

As you looked up, you almost rolled your chair out from under you.  You dropped your pen and quickly retrieved it from your desk. You smiled up at the burly man as he approached you, a thinner, just a familiar man at his shoulder.

"Hello," You sang as you stood to greet him. "You here to see Tony?"

"Why yes I am," The large blonde boomed in response. "You are new here, my lady?"

"Started just over a week ago," You introduced yourself as he offered his hand. "And you're Thor obviously."

He smiled as the other man rolled his eyes. You righted yourself and shook off your excitement. You glanced at him meekly and cleared your throat. 

"Ah, yes, and this is Loki, my brother," Thor chuckled. "He's the quiet type."

You nodded and sat back down. "I'll let him know you're here if you wanna head in."

"Certainly, but if you don't mind, my brother will stay out here." He elbowed Loki playfully, "He's not exactly permitted beyond the desk."

"It was a joke," Loki grumbled, "Your midgardian friends need to evolve a sense of humour."

"Just sit down," Thor turned back to Loki. "And don't give her too much trouble."

Loki rolled his eyes again and retreated. "Don't worry, brother," He sat among the line of chairs, "I'm not so easily amused."

Thor sighed and turned back as he headed past your desk with another smile.  Loki leaned back and draped one leg over the other. You took out your cell and hid it behind your monitor as you checked your notifications. 

You scrolled for a while and set it aside. Several visitors and regulars passed but a tension remained. The office phone rang and you answered with your usual chime. You turned halfway in the chair as you took the call.

You got down to search through the files in your drawer and as you sat up, you found a lithe figure standing not far from your desk. Loki examined the framed photo of Stark and his lab in London. You finished up your call and hung up as he turned away.

He sat again and tapped his toe impatiently. He ran his long fingers down the lapel of his dark suit as he leaned heavily on his elbow. His green eyes stared dully at the wall opposite him, just right of your desk. You peeked at him and squinted. He caught you before you could look away. He smirked.

You looked down and scribbled along the border of the calendar across your desk. You could sense him watching you. You ignored him as you waited for his brother to return. You slid your phone closer and swiped it open. A message blipped in your inbox.

‘Very intriguing stories’. It read. You hurriedly tapped in a ‘thank you’, hit send and locked your phone again. You stared at the screensaver as it bubbled up the monitor.

Finally, you heard that deep voice again. You glanced over your shoulder as Thor appeared beside your desk with Tony. They chuckled as they neared but Loki did not rise. 

“Fine. You keep him in line and I can put up with him. I let the rest of the team know.” Tony said.

“Oh, you know, he’s not all bad,” Thor grinned at Loki and beckoned him over with two fingers. He didn’t move. “He’s a changed god. Trust me.”

“Mmhmm,” Tony hummed skeptically. “We’ll see but you understand, it all comes down on you.”

“You two are much more alike than you think,” Thor laughed. “You both worry too much!” He turned and swept over to Loki. “Come on, brother, before your sour face changes his mind.”

Loki stood with a huff but followed his brother out; chin held high and eyebrow arched. Tony shook his head and leaned on your desk. 

“Word of warning: avoid that one.” He grumbled and you nodded with a shy smile. “Oh, and, coffee. Please. Need it after that one.”

🖋️

Thor and Loki became another staple in the office. By the end of your first month, you were over being star struck. The avengers, the worldly heroes, they were all just your co-workers. And they were nice. Nat brought you a frap every now and then, Steve always went out of his way to say hi, and Bruce was just happy to have someone who would smile and nod through his scientific spiels.

And your blog was booming.

Every night when you got home, you wrote and posted as much as you could. Your small following had doubled and so had your enthusiasm. You might’ve felt a tinge of guilt as you sat across the desk from America’s saviour or his grungy best friend, but they made for steamy fics. Besides, you reminded yourself, it was fiction. You knew the difference between fantasy and reality.

That didn’t always keep you from daydreaming in the office. That day you found yourself doing so several times as Tony stayed late for his last meeting and you were chained to your desk until he was done. You spun lazily in your chair and checked your phone every now and then. You wanted to write but you didn’t dare do that on a work computer.

Finally, the door opened and you looked over as the two shadows neared. Steve clapped Tony on the back. You sat, patiently patient, as you tore yourself from your thoughts. Tony checked his watch as Steve bid you farewell and waited for him to leave before he turned to you.

“Well, kid, I guess you can head out,” He said. “See ya tomorrow, bright and early?”

“You sure?” You asked coyly.

“Don’t push me. I can always find some colour-coding that needs to be done.” He teased. “I gotta find Pepper before she finds me.” He straightened his jacket. “Have a good one. And wish me luck… I’m only about an hour late.”

He strode out and you stood from your chair with a long stretch. Maybe you’d ask for an upgrade in seating. You packed up your purse and the elevator dinged again. You looked up, surprised. Steve waved awkwardly as he entered. 

“Hey, you know, I was just about to leave and I realised, well, it’s late and…” He shrugged, “You need a ride?”

“A ride?” You repeated as you grabbed your blazer from the back of your chair. “Oh, you really don’t have to--”

“It’s dark and kinda chilly. I got heated seats,” He offered. “But I can understand if you prefer those luxury subway recliners.”

 “Alright, you’ve twisted my arm.” You rounded the desk and neared him. “Thanks, Steve. You’re a real hero.”

“Well, that’s what they say,” He smiled as he led you to the elevator and hit the button. “So, where exactly am I going?”

🖋️

Once you were in the car, you were near giddy. It was a bit reminiscent of your last fic. An indulgence on your part. You resisted the urge to pull out your phone as you smiled at him from your seat, his sparkling blue eyes reflected the street lights. Captain America, the Captain America, was driving you home.

Alright, alright, settle down. He was just a man and he was just being nice. And you were terribly quiet, weren’t you?

“Um, so, how was your day?” You asked nervously.

“Ah, usual,” He said. “Tony’s such a perfectionist. We’re headed… we’ll, we’re due for a mission and he’s been lecturing me about ‘unnecessary heroics’, although I call those my job.”

“Mmm,” You nodded emphatically. “Sounds exciting… dangerous.”

“Surely more than riding a desk,” He chuckled. “How’s it going, anyway? You ready to bring a pillow with you or what?”

“Ha, yeah,” You scoffed. “I mean, I’ve had worse. There was an unpaid internship I had entirely in a mail room. Amazing experience.”

“Sounds like,” He returned as the GPS guided him down your street. “You should see if Tony can show you around the lab. He’s always keen to show off his latest toys.”

“Maybe I will,” You chirped as he pulled into your building lot. “Thanks again for the ride.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t feel right. I was already there and--” He put the car into park as he looked at you. “And well, I’ll be honest. Forgive me if it’s a little forward but… we don’t really get much time, do we? In the office, there’s so many distractions and interruptions--”

You giggled nervously as he stretched his arm over the back of your seat.

“What I’m trying to say is it was my pleasure.”

You looked down shyly. Your cheeks burned and you slowly looked back up. You squeaked as his lips met yours. You tried to pull away but he only leaned in more. While it wasn’t entirely unwanted, you couldn’t help but think of your internship. He didn’t seem the type for one night stands and you weren’t exactly fond of the idea of an office romance; even with him.

“Steve,” You finally parted, breathless.

“Sorry, sorry, I just…” He sat back and looked at his hands meekly. “I had to. I’m sorry if I--”

“Really, it… it was nice but I just don’t think…”

“You liked it though?” He interrupted.

“Of course, I mean, I--” You caught yourself and squeezed the strap of your purse. “I can’t really afford to lose this internship and this could--”

“No one needs to know,” He blurted out. “I know how these things are nowadays. I just… I really like you.”

“I don’t know,” You bit your lip. “I… um…”

“Look, I won’t pressure you.” He raised his hands. “I just was putting myself out there. I guess… bad timing.”

You looked at your purse then back to him. You peered around the car. Who would know? Well, you would and Steve would. Things might get awkward if you were to… Then again, this was a dream come true. Were you really going to get out of this car alone? You couldn’t help but wonder if reality lived up to fiction.

“You’re right,” You said quietly. “No one needs to know.”

🖋️

Steve had you off the floor before the door was closed. Your purse bounced across the carpet as he carried you past the doormat and the flimsy coat rack. He blindly lumbered around with you in his arms, your lips locked together. He fell onto the couch with you beneath him as you pushed the leather of his coat down his shoulders.

He parted to help you untangle it from his arms and was just as quick to tear your blazer off and toss it away. His tee shirt was next and your blouse barely kept its buttons as he ripped it off. You never expected such vigour from him; more a doting sore of intimacy, not that you were complaining. 

You slipped out of your heeled oxfords and he kicked off his own shoes as you admired his torso. Every muscle rippled beneath his flawless skin and for a moment, you felt a tickle of insecurity. Look at him. He was perfect.

The jingle of his buckle drew you back. You bit your tongue eagerly as you stood and wiggled out of your stuffy dress pants. His eyes followed your hands as you bared your thighs and stepped out of the wool. With his fly undone, he reached out and drew you to him. He kissed you again as you straddled his lap.

His hands were swift in unhooking your bra. Another surprise. You always dreamt of the clumsy pan plucked from the past. You dropped the undergarment down your arms as he cupped your tits. You flung it away and wrapped your arms around him. You tossed your head back as his lips tickled your throat and rocked atop his lap. He groaned and ran his thumbs over your nipples.

You purred and felt along his chiseled torso. You pushed your hand past his jeans and the elastic of his briefs. Your fingers slipped below as he gasped against your throat. You gripped his cock and slowly moved your hand between your bodies. He was thick and just as big as you imagined; maybe bigger. 

He bent his head and kissed along your chest. You arched your back and twined your fingers through his hair. You held him to you as you stroked him and he kneaded your ass hungrily. He lifted his ass easily with you atop him and shoved his pants down his thighs until he sprung out. 

You carried your motion as he fell back against the couch. His hands trailed up your sides and back again. He gripped your hips then dragged his nails down your thighs. He nodded as you bit your lip and got up on your knees. You hovered over him and shed your panties. You straddled him again and lined him up with your entrance. You lowered yourself onto him as you slid your hand down his length. 

He squeezed your thighs and let out a long moan as you took all of him. You pulled your hand away and grasped his shoulders. He was a lot and your walls strained around him. You shuddered and his fingers danced up your curves.

“Go slow,” He said.

You nodded and tilted your pelvis carefully. Your breaths were shaky as you lifted yourself up and he impaled you once more. You leaned back with your hands on his thighs as you tried to ease the pressure. His eyes roved your body as you rocked your hips, slowly building your tempo.

“That’s it,” He uttered. 

He explored your body with one hand and his other rested just below your stomach. He pressed his thumb to your clit. You bucked and sped up as he played with you. You huffed as you arched your back and rode him wildly. Your eyes rolled back as you chased your orgasm. The tendrils that stretched over your flesh and strangled you in bliss.

Your climax shook you. He grasped your hips and kept you moving as your arms trembled weakly. “So naughty,” He whispered. His voice was low, dusky; so unlike his own. “So delectable.”

Your vision was blurry as you lifted your head. You let him use your body as another orgasm rose. You sat up as he guided you up and down his cock. You whined as you came and closed your eyes in rapture.

You cried out as you were suddenly flipped onto you back. He didn’t miss a beat as he fucked you into the cushions, your legs splayed around him. His snarls were animalistic, ravenous, as he rutted into you. You babbled and grabbed weakly at his thick arms planted beside your head.

He pulled out and grunted. A warmth spilled down your thighs as he pushed himself back onto his knees. He watched as he stroked himself over the edge and his golden hair fell forward. You sighed as you touched your forehead dazily. He caressed your thighs as he caught his breath.

“Wow,” You murmured.

“Yeah,” He panted. “Wow.”

🖋️

In the back of your mind, you dreaded the early morning but you were too elated to care. Too intoxicated by your lust to worry about the body next to you as you fell asleep. Your double bed was barely big enough for both of you but you didn’t mind his warmth as he slung his arm over you. You dozed contently; floating in a river of bliss.

You woke with a snort. Your face was buried in the pillow and the sky was still dark outside. You sat up groggily and felt your way to the bathroom. You relieved yourself and rinsed off the remnants of your tumble. You stumbled back to the bedroom, eager to squeeze in a few more hours before you had to drag yourself back to the tower. 

You tiptoed out to the living room and grabbed your phone before you got back into bed, careful not to disturb your guest. As you laid back and lit up your phone, you dropped it on your chest. You lifted it and held up the glow to the pillow next to yours. That wasn’t Steve.

You swore loudly and threw your phone at Loki. His eyes shot open as yours began to adjust to the dark. You pushed yourself up as he caught your wrist. A low snicker sent a chill through you as he tugged you closer. His arm snaked up below you and he pulled you against him.

“’His eyes spoke of his sin, but his body promised heaven.’” He slithered and you froze. “Poetry, almost.”

“You-- How did you--” You cringed at your own words; written for your lascivious blog.

“I do wonder what he would think,” Loki clung to you as you squirmed. “I don’t think he’d be so eager as all that.”

“How could you-- You tricked me,” You pushed against his shoulders.

“I gave you what you wanted,” He said. “And you can’t say you didn’t enjoy it, dear.”

“I thought you were...him,” You stuttered. “I never would have--”

“I can be him,” You felt the change, heard it in his voice. “Or maybe another favourite.” His voice deepened and you recognized Bucky’s sonorous tones.

“No, no,” You whined desperately. “Stop! Please.”

“Stop?” His voice returned to normal and he turned so that you were atop him, his arms firmly around you. “Oh, but I am your biggest fan, dear. I have but one suggestion.” He stared at you through the dim. “I’d be a great addition to your repertoire.”

“You’re sick!” You snarled. “You--you--”

“I know your secret,” He sneered. “I admit, your little tales would make for some fascinating conversation among those ridiculous Avengers but I think you might just find yourself no longer welcome among them.”

“You wouldn’t,” You hissed.

“What makes you think that?” He taunted.

“What do you want?” You breathed.

“I’m sure your dirty little mind can answer that,” His hand wandered lower and you felt the twitch between you. “Hmm?”

You shook your head; mortified, shocked.

“You can resist it but I feel your heart racing; the heat coursing through your veins… mmm, that would make for great prose, wouldn’t it?”

“Please…” You begged.

“Oh, I can please you,” He said. “You just have to let me, dear.”

He rolled you onto your back in a moment and his hand crawled along your stomach cloyingly. You stared at him, his silhouette limned in the dull light that streamed in past the curtains. He slowly retreated as he lowered his head. His lips made you shiver as he laid a trail of kiss along your chest.

“Loki…” You whispered.

“Louder,” He spoke against your skin.

“Loki,” You said louder. “Please, don’t.”

He continued his path along your stomach, a hand played with your tits blindly as he did. You trembled as he reached the vee of your pelvis. His teeth grazed your hip bone and you closed your eyes. You caught his hand on your chest.

“Loki,” You said again.

“My dear,” He raised his head. “I’m about to put your stories to shame.”

He slipped his fingers up along your ass and between your folds. You winced as he bent his head and his cool tongue met his fingers at your clit. You inhaled sharply and tilted your pelvis against him. He purred in approval as he swirled his tongue around your clit.

You reached down to stop him and he flicked his tongue. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you urged him on. Your legs bent around him as he nestled between them. He hooked his hands around your thighs and held on as he lost himself in you. You writhed as he suckled and lapped, soon breathless and mewling.

You bucked your hips as you came and he held you firm as he coaxed you over the edge. He was slow to pull away and you covered your face as he sat up in the dark. 

“Don’t be shy, dear,” He drew your hands away from your face. “You don’t have to be with me. I know everything. I’ve read every story a dozen times.” He pinned your hands beside your head. “And I want to live them all.”

He held you down as he dipped his pelvis. You felt his tip along your cunt and held your breath. There was one part of himself he hadn’t changed. The head of his cock slid along your folds and he slowly pushed inside as he found your entrance. You gasped as he plunged into you entirely. He lingered and basked in the feel of you around him.

He wasn’t slow this time. Or gentle. As he thrust, he jerked your entire body and the bed swayed beneath you. You were still tender from before and you whimpered as he rocked into you. His motion was deliberate and deep. He was sure to make you feel it. He squeezed your wrists until your fingers were numb.

“Say it,” He snarled as he pounded into you. “Say my name.”

“Loki,” You cried out. “Loki!”

“Again!” He commanded.

You repeated his name over and over, though you weren’t sure if you were begging him to stop or keep going. It wasn’t long before your core was once more buzzing. You pushed your head back into the pillow and gritted your teeth as the chant turned erratic. You squealed as you came, the syllables uttered pathetically.

He released your wrist as he sat back. He grabbed your legs and pulled them up against his torso but never wavered. He hammered into you as he held your legs to his shoulders and you groped desperately at the blanket. The springs of the bed were noisy and added to the salacious sounds of your fucking. 

He stopped suddenly. A few final spasms as he hugged your legs to him and gave a soft groan. You felt the warmth seep through you. He dropped your legs and they fell around him as he breathed heavily. He rocked his hips a few times before he pulled out of you. You could feel his cum as it leaked out onto the sheets.

He ran his hand along your thigh and squeezed it. He nudged you and when you didn’t move, he forcefully rolled you over. He slapped your ass as he pushed your legs together and straddled your thighs. You lifted your head and he shoved it back down..

“My dear,” He slithered. “I think I might just be your best story.”

[mhdiaries]

Diary of Catty Noir

It would be very unlucky for you if you read my diary.

August-13th-CURRENT MOOD-WHINY

I wanted to go to the maul today but I remembered I had a press conference. Well, my iCoffin remembered for me. I would have just as soon forgotten it. I really don’t like press conferences very  much. I can’t really have a “bad day” when the cameras are on me, because I know it will be all over the internet gossip sites before the presser is even over. Of course that happens when I’m having a good day, too. Okay, gotta stop writing and get out my lucky press conference shoes. Since I’ve been wearing them I haven’t made any gossip worthy mistakes. I wonder how many more times I can wear them before the luck runs out? Gotta go.

The luck of the shoes held out! In fact, they held out so well and in such a big way, I might retire them. We lost power to the press conference. No lights-no camera-no action. It was eerie epic.

Back to my whine - So, most of my frustration with the gossip sites - yes, I’m moving on from the press conferences - is that I’m just a ghoul who likes to perform and sing, that sometimes I’m cranky when I don’t get enough sleep - okay, all the time when I don’t get enough sleep - ,that sometimes I get crushes on boys, that I dress the way I do not because I want to draw a crowd but because I like the styles I wear. Of course I can’t ever say any of this publicly, or the monster press will call me “spoiled”, “shallow”, “aloof” or “difficult”. I remember when this used to be fun. Yes, I know, millions of ghouls would love to trade places with me, and when I’m on stage I do forget everything except the fans and the music, and I’m sure that tomorrow I’ll feel completely different... or not. I can’t decide right now... *sigh*... what’s wrong with me? Blah - I need a nap.

September-13th-CURRENT MOOD-EXCITED

Lucky me! Just go my finalized concert schedule, and it looks like I’ll be closing out the year by doing shows in Londoom, Scaris, Boolin, Weresaw and Barceluna! My manager thinks they’ll all be sold out shows. Hopefully, I’ll get to do some fright seeing, too. I’ve always wanted to see the Eiffel Terror lit up at night and take a tour through the Terror of Londoom. I won’t get my hopes up though, because my schedule is usually packed tight. Oh well, at least I’m getting the chance to go and meet some new creepy cool fans. 

October-13th-CURRENT MOOD-CAUTIOUS

I started thinking last night about how many shows I’ve done since I started performing, but it’s pretty unlucky to count certain things, so I stopped. It’s a lot though. I was in my first talent show when I was only seven. I don’t remember all the details as well as my parents do, but I have no trouble remembering the crowd at the little theatre jumping to their feet and cheering when I was done. Even then it made all my fur stand on end. Still does. I definitely remember when I was twelve and the limoscream pulled up into our driveway to take us to the finals of the national show where I got runner-up; well, it’s all been a blur since then. Lately, though, I’ve been wishing I could have a “normal” unlife, whatever that means...

I was living in the shadows,

A creature of the night,

Afraid that if you knew me

You’d be paralyzed with fright

But the moment that you saw me

You smiled and didn’t run,

Took my hand and gently pulled me

From the shadows to the sun.

Chorus

I’ve only wished forever

To find a friend like you,

Someone to look within the monster

And see a heart that’s true.

Now places that I used to haunt

Are so very far away,

And I’m never going back to them

‘Cause you’ve shown me it’s okay

To live life in the open

Where everyone can see,

‘Cause the thing that I was hiding

Is the thing that makes me me.

Chorus

I’ve only wished forever

To find a friend like you,

Someone to look within the monster

And see a heart that’s true.

To see a heart that’s true

To see a heart that’s true

December-13th-CURRENT MOOD-FRUSTRATED

I’ve completely lost my voice. The doctor said that I have “vocal exhaustion” and we’ve had to cancel the concert in Barceluna. I could actually feel my voice going in Weresaw during the second encore, and I should have chosen something a little easier on my throat, but because the energy from the crowd was so clawsome and because they were chanting “MCR-MCR-MCR”, I sang it. I feel terrible about Barceluna, but nothing that reading the news couldn’t make worse. There’s a report from an “unnamed source” saying I canceled the concert because the concert promoter wouldn’t paint my dressing room in my lucky color. I have a lot of superstitions, but none of them involve the color of my dressing room. To make matters worse, I’m not supposed to talk at all so my vocal cords can rest up. Right, I wouldn’t mind giving the whole music business a rest. When did it stop being fun and turn into work?

January-13th-CURRENT MOOD-NOSTALGIC

For the first time in the past six months I got to sleep in my own bed last night. It was really nice, and I felt like the luckiest ghoul in the world to be surrounded by all those little things I used to take for granted but that make home special. Things like the squeaky door to my bedroom that I would never let my dad fix because it was my “intruder alert”, or the soft yellow quilt my grandmother made for my seventh birthday; the one I cried about when she gave it to me because I thought that yellow was my unlucky color, but now the quilt is one of my favorite things in the whole world. Or how the thirteenth slat on the blind that covers my street facing window is bent just enough so that the light from one of the streetlamps comes through at just the right angle for me to lie in bed and make shadow puppets on the wall. I think most of all I just like that it’s quiet, because on the road it never is.

March-13th-CURRENT MOOD-EXCITED

Last night I have a small surprise concert... Well, not surprise, I guess, since we’d been leaving clues to where it would be online. Anyway, a group of ghouls from Monster High came backstage after the concert, and I know they thought they were hanging out with me, but I think it was the other way around. I can’t explain it, but I really felt a kinship there. One of them was a clawsome surfer ghoul named Lagoona Blue. She told me that she wished I could come and play at Monster High, and I told her if she had any extra lying around that I wouldn’t mind having that wish come true :). We exchanged emails, and as I watched the ghouls leave, part of me wanted to leave with them. It’s hard to have friends in this business, at least ones you can count on. 

April-13th-CURRENT MOOD-RELAXED

I’ve been reading this new book, all about the mysterious disappearance of the last queen of the vampires. Her name was Elissabat, and on the day of her coronation 400 years ago she simply walked away and hasn’t been seen or heard from since. I guess the story is interesting to me because from the outside it’s hard for any monster to imagine walking away from the fame and glory of being a queen. I can’t say that I am the same position by a long way, but sometimes unlife is a lot different when you’re on the outside looking in. I remember talking to a fellow teen scream star Veronica Von Vamp about this when we were doing a music video together. She said that sometimes monsters envy other monster’s unlife because they imagine it’s perfect, even though unlife never is, so when the monster that’s living that “purrfect” unlife chooses to leave it behind to do something else, no explanation is ever satisfactory. “So don’t waste a lot of effort trying,” she said. “It just takes time away from doing what you want to do.”

May-13th-CURRENT MOOD-EXPECTANT

I’ve been talking to my mom and dad about giving up being a touring performer for a while, and today I made my decision. I still want to sing because I love it, but I also want to be in one place long enough to have friends and do things that a “normal” ghoul gets to do. My parents told me they would support me, but I needed to finish out the final concert dates on my schedule because I had already committed to them. I agreed, and so I will. I know this isn’t going to make much sense to any monster but me, and I know that my next press conference is going to suck the luck out of every charm I have, but it’s what I want to do. I will be enrolling this fall as a student at Monster High, and I’ve talked to Headless Headmistress Bloodgood about doing a final concert there. I’m going to need some extra luck to make it happen, though. Wonder if some monster has an extra wish they’re not using?

[maybe-theres-hope]

Four word prompts: “I’m not even sorry.” for tarlos?

Thank you so much for the prompt! I really enjoyed writing this one. (I know next to nothing about poker, but neither do they, so it’s whatever :))

Send me a four word prompt from this list!

Tells | Tarlos | 1,100 words | Teen and Up (for language)

TK can’t even remember now whose idea it was to hold a Ladder 126 Texas Hold ‘Em tournament, but he’d done his research and watched enough youtube tutorials about how the game was played to feel fairly confident going in. Besides, he knew his brothers and sisters like the back of his hand; he was more than confident he could pick out when they were lying and use it to his own advantage.

However, 3 hours in and nearly $400 down, he was starting to think he’d been a little too confident.

“Show me whatcha got, baby brother,” Judd smirked, throwing his own cards down on the table. Full House.

TK hesitated for a moment, dreading the next one. Heaving a great sigh and rolling his eyes, he lay down his meager pair of threes to a raucous bout of laughter and shouts.

“Seriously TK? How are you so bad at this?” Mateo asked.

“Yeah, wasn’t it you who was crowing all week about you’d smoke us all? Relieve us of all our money so you could go on a cruise with your boyfriend?” Marjan teased, pointing her finger at him as Judd swept his money back across the table.

“Whatever. This is stupid. It’s Judd! He’s just...a poker prodigy or something! I don’t understand how. Gambling is illegal in Texas anyway, how’d you get so good at this?” TK whined.

“Says the guy who brought a cop to the illegal poker game,” Judd laughed, looking up at Carlos who was standing behind his chair, holding a can of coke and smiling.

“Paul invited me, actually,” he said, sipping. “And just because gambling is illegal doesn’t mean we Texans don’t gamble.”

“Exactly. Every other state around knows it’s illegal here, and that’s why there’s a ton of casinos just across the state line in every direction,” Mateo said.

“Are you even old enough to go inside a casino, probie?” Marjan cracked from the kitchen, which Mateo followed with a har, har that earned him a noogie from Paul.

“Alright, alright. Deal ‘em up again,” Judd said as Paul picked up the deck. “One more and then I gotta call it a night and get home to Gracey ‘cuz she will kill me if I show up past midnight and sleep through church tomorrow mornin’.”

The game went on as the rest had, each player raising, calling, or folding as they wished until finally it was TK, Judd, and Marjan left. TK watched them both with eager eyes, looking for tells he’d learned about in the videos. They were both pretty stoic, looking back at him and at each other occasionally. He felt pretty good about this hand; he had four sevens. He tried to keep his own face in check as he watched the others. Marjan locked eyes with him before immediately cutting her gaze to Paul sitting next to him, who’d folded out already. Judd looked at Marjan for a moment, then to Paul as well, before sliding his eyes to TK almost as an afterthought. It occurred to TK that the atmosphere was tense in a different way than just the three of them trying to read each other. He watched his two opponents again. Both kept looking at Paul, so he slowly moved his focus to Paul.

Paul, it seemed, was busy watching Carlos, who was still standing behind Judd’s chair, consequently facing TK directly. Once Paul locked gazes with Carlos, Carlos pursed his lips a bit. Paul looked back to Marjan and Judd in turn, pursing his lips in almost the same way.

“I fold,” Marjan said, throwing her cards face down on the table. Judd looked at TK directly now, before once again cutting over to Paul. TK didn’t move his gaze from Judd.

“I’ll see your fifty, and raise you a hundred,” Judd said to TK. TK had bet most of what he’d had left, since he was pretty sure this hand was going to beat whatever Judd had, and that Judd was just bluffing. He refused to bow out this time.

“Alright. All in,” he said, pushing the rest of his meager chips into the middle of the table.

“Oh shit, here we go. Moment’a truth.” Judd lay his cards down and TK followed. There was another cacophony of shouts from around the room as Judd’s straight flush was revealed.

Carlos whistled and slapped Judd on the shoulder. “I was worried there for a minute that he had a royal flush and you’d doomed yourself.” TK looked up at him in confusion. Carlos walked over to TK’s chair, wrapping his arms around TK’s shoulders from behind and placing a kiss to his temple. “Aw baby, it’s alright. Better luck next time.”

And then, seemingly apropos of nothing, Carlos added, “You know when you’re hiding something, you do this really cute scrunchy thing with your nose? It’s super adorable.”

TK froze for a moment, looking around the table once again. Every single one of them were looking at him with slightly guilty expressions on their faces. He thought back to the entire night. Carlos standing behind Judd and facing Paul, who was next to TK and could look straight at Marjan and Judd easily. Paul and Carlos, who could communicate silently even at the worst of times. And Carlos blatantly watching TK most of the night, which he’d interpreted as boyfriend infatuation but was apparently reading his tells and relaying them to Paul, who then relayed it to Judd and Marjan.

“Oh my god, screw all of you! You’re all off my holiday gift list!” he cried, shoving back in his chair amidst the sounds of laughter from the whole house.

“Baby!” Carlos called through his own laughter. “Come on, babe, you know it was all in fun!”

TK knew that, of course, but that didn’t mean couldn’t pout about it a little. He felt like an idiot, but that was mostly his fault for hyping himself up to everyone the whole week leading up to this.

Carlos caught up to him and pulled him into a hug, placing a kiss to his forehead. TK relented and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. “I know, but I thought at least you’d be on my side! You completely sold me out, you traitor!”

“I know, and I’m not even sorry,” Carlos said with a laugh.

Little did TK know, Carlos had bought the tickets for the cruise months ago, and was waiting for their one year anniversary--in two weeks--to gift them to TK. The rest of them knew about the tickets, too, which is why they definitely didn’t feel bad about the whole thing.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Moonlit Walk

Prompt for the 19th was: “If you thought you were safe, you thought wrong.” Beware, this prompt is Not Suitable For your Workplace.

“If you thought you were safe, you thought wrong.”

Stern turns to look at the man behind him. His date is smiling, all teeth.

Sharp teeth. 

“Remember I said how handsome you look in the moonlight?” The man is shifting, changing, and Stern gazes up at the full moon. 

“Shit. Alright, don’t panic, I’m sure there’s a way we can get you somewhere where you can’t hurt anyone or yourself.” 

“Aw, it’s cute that you think this is a warning so you can try to save yourself. Hate to break it to you, Joseph, but we didn’t come all the way out here to get cozy. But I meant what I said; You really do look like a snack.” It’s coming out as more of a growl now, and the smile is staying put.

“You can’t, can’t be serious.” He’s already trying to picture his escape route.

“Dead serious. But” he drags his claws down a tree-trunk, nonchalantly, “I’ll give you a sixty second head start. It’ll be more fun that way. One-”

Stern is running before the syllable leaves his mouth. Even as it pounds in his ears, his heart sinks as he notices he’s completely lost.

Not nearly far enough behind him, there’s a howl. 

This was not how this night was supposed to go.

He’s been in the sleepy California town of Kepler, researching his newest book of cryptid sightings, for two months. Dating pools are already small in towns like Kepler, even more so when you’re gay. So imagine his pleasure when another visitor approached him a few days ago and asked if he’d like to go on a date. He was charming, and handsome, and Stern was curious and a little bit horny and figured the worst that would happen was some disappointing sex. 

They’d had dinner in the lodge where Stern was (is) staying, and he’s had a perfectly decent time. His date wasn’t an amazing conversationalist, but he was pleasant enough, and seemed very into Stern. 

The only odd moment had come when, while his date was in the bathroom, the bartender (and cook) came over to personally drop off his drink. 

“You doing okay?”

“Yes, why?”

“That guy’s not giving you any trouble?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Huh. Well, uh, lemme know if that changes, okay?”

Now, as he ducks and weaves through the woods, Stern replays that conversation. Wishes he’s paid more attention to what, in retrospect, may have been a warning. Wishes he’d paid attention to their path in the forest, rather than to the many complimentary things his date had said to him. 

How does that poem go?

And now, dear little children, who may this story read,

To idle, silly, flattering words, I pray you ne’er give heed;

Unto an evil counselor close heart, and ear, and eye,

And take a lesson from this tale of the Spider and the-

“Fuck” he hisses as he comes to a stop at the edge of a sheer rock face. Cracking branches and panting growls are terrifyingly close. Weighing his options, he grabs the largest stick he can swing; if flight won’t save him, maybe fight will. 

“Ooh, bad luck. Guess you’re not as sharp as I thought.” His date lurches through the trees towards him. 

“I’m not helpless either. Leave me alone.” 

“Oh yeah, this is gonna be fun” the monster crouches, ready to spring, when a cacophony of snapping branches comes from Sterns left. 

“You heard him. Beat it.” Rumbles a voice.

The werewolf must be able to see better in the dark than Stern, because he scoffs “who’s gonna make me, Squatch-boy?”

It’s only when the newcomer steps into the light that Stern sees him too. 

Yeah, that’s definitely a Bigfoot. 

“Look, man, you’re already in pretty serious trouble. Don’t make me kick your ass on top of it.” 

The werewolf snarls and launches himself at the cryptid, who dives to the side and comes up with what appears to be half a dead tree. He swings, sending the lycanthrope flying. 

Unfortunately, he flies Sterns way and lands too close for comfort. 

“I’m gonna tear you apart youOW!” 

Stern hits him with the stick again for good measure, giving Bigfoot time to cross the distance between them and haul the creature into an extremely violent bear-hug. When he throws the wolf to the ground this time, he stays down for a twenty count before stumbling up and limping towards the treeline. 

“Fine, asshole, you eat him! Fuck that hurt.” It glares at them once before skulking off into the darkness. 

At the implication that Bigfoot sees him as prey, Sterns panic gives an encore. He knows of no accounts suggesting that Bigfoot or cryptids of his kind eat people. But until tonight, Stern didn’t know of any credible accounts of the existence of werewolves, either. 

Bigfoot turns to look at him and he raises his stick.

The cryptid holds up his hands, “Whoa, hey, I’m not gonna eat you. That guy’s just being a dick.”

“You’ll forgive me for not being inclined to believe you right now.”

“I swear, I’m mostly harmless.” He kneels, then sits down on the forest floor. 

“You are almost two feet taller than me, you have fangs, and you just beat up a werewolf.”

“.....Yeah okay I see your point. Uh” he pats around his body, looking for something, “here, maybe this’ll help.” He slips a woven bracelet on his wrist, and then there’s no more Bigfoot. 

Just a bartender. 

“Barclay?” 

The other man waves sheepishly, “Hey. Uh, this making you feel better?”

“It’s mainly increasing my confusion.”

Barclay scratches the back of his neck, “There’s more than I can really explain right now, especially without checking with some other people first. The main thing is what you already saw; there’s monsters running around, and they can look like humans.”

“There’s more than just the two of you?”

“Lots more. Most of us are really chill. I haven’t seen that guy before, so I think he might have either just come through from our home or be passing through from another town. Either way, he’s the only werewolf I’ve ever seen who’d pull a stunt like this.”

“There are other werewolves?” Stern cautiously lays the stick down. 

“Most of them are having a chess club meeting tonight.” Barclay shrugs. 

Stern slowly settles onto the ground, heart rate returning to normal, “That’s why you asked me about him, isn’t it?’

“I wasn’t sure if he was what I thought, because I hadn’t seen him before. I just got a kinda predatory vibe off of him. When I saw you two heading out here I got suspicious and followed you. After letting Mama know my hunch.”

Stern nods, beginning to understand. Mama runs the lodge, and if anyone in town looks prepared to handle a monster, it’s her. 

“Do you wanna continue this conversation back at the lodge?”

“Yes, please.” Stern ought to stand up, but the idea of doing so sounds exhausting. Barclay gets up, walks the several feet between them and holds out his hand. Stern takes it, gratefully.

“Is the lodge close? I’m so goddamn turned around, I feel like such a fool for not even paying enough attention to know where I am in relation town.”

“He turned you around on purpose.”

“By stroking my ego with nice words, and I fell for it.” Stern mutters.

“Try not to beat yourself up, okay?” Barclay rests his free hand on his shoulder. 

“I’ll do my best.”

They start back through the trees, Barclay keeping a protective arm around the shorter man. 

“You’re taking me being Bigfoot pretty well.”

“Honestly, I just processed so much unexpected information in such a short time that I’m still sorting through all my feelings.”

“...Are you trying to decide whether to ask me for help with you research?”

Stern looks over at him, finds a wry, sweet smile heading his direction. 

“Perhaps.”

“Gotta buy me a drink first.”

“Barclay, you are the one serving them. You can have one for free whenever you want.”

“Not from a cute guy I can’t.”

Sterns’ cheeks heat up at the same time his stomach twists, compliments in the dark woods now linked to danger in his brain. Barclay notices the reaction, clears his throat. 

“Did you get a chance to finish that book I gave you?”

“It was spectacular, I stayed up all night a few days ago to read it. I meant to give it back, but I’ve been swamped with research just like you’ve been swamped with customers.”

“Really has been hectic the last few days. Think we got written up somewhere again.”

“Does that happen often?” Stern picks his way over a fallen log, Barclay offering a hand to steady him.

“Every now and then Sunset or somesuch writes about Kepler as a nice weekend vacation spot. Lodge gets mentioned every time, usually as a place to eat.”

“As it should. You’re an amazing chef, Barclay.”

It’s a pity the moonlight washes the world out; he’s fairly certain Barclay is blushing.

When the lodge comes into view, a figure wearing a wide-brimmed hat approaches them, coalescing into the shape of Duck Newton, local ranger. 

“Mama wanted me to let you both know that she’s taken care of the issue.” 

Barclay groans, “she didn’t kill him, did she?”

“Nope, just put the fear of god into him and chased him across the border into the next county in her pick-up. Accordin to ‘Drid, no futures of him comin back.”

“That’s...good?” Stern isn’t quite sure how Duck’s tall, gangly husband can be so sure. 

“Whelp, I better be headin home. Evenin you two, glad you didn’t get eaten.” He tips his hat and heads off towards the parking lot. 

Stern rubs his arms, nerves still refusing to quiet entirely. 

“Kitchen’s closed, but I got a little kitchenette in my room, could make you some tea. Uh, if you want.”

“That would be nice, thank you.”

Soon he’s seated on Barclays green, plaid bed-spread as the larger man putters around the small stove. Barclay keeps up a quiet, consistent chatter, seeming to understand that Stern is craving the reassurance of a friendly, familiar voice. 

“...Anyway, it turns out it’s even harder than you’d think to get caramel syrup out of your beard.”

Stern laughs at the image, reaches for the mug Barclay offers him. The trouble is, he can’t make his hands grab it. It nearly drops on the floor, but Barclay cups his hands around Sterns to keep them steady,

“Everything okay?”

“I, it’s like my limbs are numb but full of little, buzzing bugs all at once and I can’t make them grip anything. It’s an adrenaline reaction I get some time.”

“Is there a way I can help?” The question is gentle, earnest, Barclay staring down at him with those deep brown eyes. Stern glances down, trying to ignore the lewd thoughts flooding his head at Barclays offer. Instead he counts the various scars on Barclays hands, wonders which are remnants of kitchen incidents and which are reminders of monster battles. 

In spite of this distraction, his mind offers up thoughts. Thoughts of how Barclay brings him his coffee with just the right amount of cream and sugar already added, while all the other guests have to add theirs at the table.  How more than a few nights, he’s kept Stern company while he pours over notes and researches leads, busying himself with looking over recipes or cleaning the bar. 

Thoughts of how more than once, Barclay’s given Stern a shy once-over, a thing he’d previously never thought possible. How the few times the bartender complimented him, Stern glowed for hours afterwards. 

He looks back up, finds the other man waiting on his answer.

It doesn’t take much, merely a soft tug on Barclays hands, to bring him close enough for a kiss. He gets surprised, short moan in response, pulls back to smile at him. 

“I don’t know about you, Barclay, but I can think of some far more enjoyable ways to burn off adrenaline than sipping tea.”

“Got that right. And I’m happy to do them, as long as you promise me you’re not doing this because you think it’s something you owe me.”

“I’m not.” 

Barclay takes the mug from Sterns hands, sets it down on the bedside table calmly. 

Then he makes a surprisingly graceful hop-flop onto the bed, and pulls Stern on top of him. The fire in Sterns system is instantaneous, and he frantically kisses Barclay while tugging at his shirt and grinding against him. When the shirt proves too difficult, he goes for Barclays belt, but the other man grabs both his hands with one of his own, grips his hip to keep him still with little effort (good lord he is strong).

“Much as I appreciate the thought, babe, I wanna make it all about getting you off right now. You’ve had a hard night. Will you let me make you feel good?”

Stern cups his face and kisses him hard and happy, nodding as best he can.

“Lay back and get comfy.”

Stern tears his shirt off like it’s on fire, gives his slacks the same treatment. Barclay chuckles, undoes his flannel and drops it on the floor. Then he kneels down, grabs Sterns ankles and slides him down to the edge of the bed, eases his underwear off once he’s there. Then hooks Sterns legs over his shoulders, nuzzles his inner thighs with a low, rumbling purr.

“Want me to suck your dick?”

“Oh lord yes, please, yesYESohhhhh.” His heels dig into Barclays back at the first firm swipe of his tongue. Barclay huffs out warm, laughing breath against him before continuing to circle and swirl along his folds, Stern whimpering whenever his tongue teases at his dick. The room steadily fills with his moans, the odd laugh when Barclays beard tickles his skin, and the other mans panting, pleased purr. 

Barclay pulls back just a little, kissing Sterns’ hips and thighs as he groans, “fuck, love doing this to you, love hearing you moan baby, god, wanna make you feel so good.”

“You’re doing, ah, so well, oh lord Barclay please don’t stop.”

“Not planning to.” Is all he hears before Barclay dives back down, moaning around his cock like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. The noise rumbling out of him is no longer a purr, it’s a growl, Barclays ministrations becoming messier, more animalistic, with every second. Stern is matching his enthusiasm , no longer content to lay back and be lavished with pleasure. Instead he chases it, grinding against Barclays face, which only serves to make the man on the floor growl louder. 

“That’s so good, you’re so good, ohlordfuck” he grips that endearingly shaggy hair, “right there, please right thererighttherrerightthereOHhhhh.” His eyes shut as his orgasm floods him, and a comforting pressure registers on his thigh as Barclay rests his chin against it to watch him come. 

“Better?”

“Yes. Would, would you like to uh, not be on the floor.” He gestures weakly at the bed, hoping Barclay gets the gist.

He does, climbing onto the mattress and rolling Stern into his arms. 

“Give me a moment and I can re-” he yawns, the long-awaited crash finally hitting him, “-ciprocate.”

“Don’t worry about it, okay babe?”

“But you’re clearly turned on. I’m fairly certain I felt you trying to hump the side of the bed while you were down there.”

“I mean yeah, because you’re real fucking hot and I like doing that. But you’re already going limp and sleepy on me.” He lifts Sterns hand, which thwaps back onto the bed because he doesn’t have the energy to even think about keeping it up.

“Suppose you’re right. And you’re very comfortable.” 

“If you want, tomorrow you can nap on me while I’m Bigfoot.”

“I’d” another yawn “like that.” Then a rather ridiculous thought occurs to him and he begins laughing “I never need to work a day in my life again. I’m just going to sell my story to the National Enquirer for a million dollars.”

Barclay belly-laughs, cuddling Stern closer, “Go to sleep, you goofball.”

“Won’t be calling me that when my feature, ‘Bigfoot is real and he sucked my dick’ goes viral.”

“You can only write that if I get a cut.”

Stern blinks sleepily up at him, kisses the goofy smile spreading across his face, “deal.”

[dear-space-cadet]

al horford sleeper agent

—————

anyway by now ive told basically everyone i care about but i had a life changing experience over the weekend. n it sounds dumb as shit but i met a real life dude who was basically a clone of nick from franz. weird hours. guess this is a thread

before we start i want to say i havent thought about franz in weeks. theyve gone away on their own finally but really i think my old obsessions just get replaced every few years and maybe it was my hard work in therapy or my new obsession with rap or

maybe it was just a realization or me growing up and maturing or something but i dont even want to work on my favorite fanfics anymore or anything. it’s just odd. i think im changing

and i don’t think about how my former favorite band members are doing or worry about them or check their socials n it feels really good. but i know there probably is or probably will be a replacement

ok that was a tangent. if they were replaced by anything they were replaced by new friends and the NBA. so there’s the exposition of this story sorted

anyway back to the weekend. the sleeper agent invited me to lunch. and that was the catalyst. god people are being so loud in here let me go to the art library

anyway i just kind of realized "huh i guess there's more out there." i went to lunch n shit. WE went to lunch n shit. stopped caring so much about my math homework. let myself be dumb and in love

that’s a very human thing. lunch. he spilled his stupid chipotle burrito all over his stupid bright green celtics jacket

he’s from italy. never even stepped foot in a chipotle. immediately clowned himself. some world we live in

we hung out all weekend. we went to lunch like two more times and we went to dinner. there was this big threat of leaving looming over my head the whole time. i made him walk like a mile on crutches and i feel very bad about it

i don’t know what’s wrong with him. it’s somewhere between a basketball injury and a chronic disability. either way that just made me feel even more emotionally attached to him. i never saw him without the celtics jacket

it was so cold that weekend. or maybe i just didn’t bring the right jacket. if he were a gentleman he would have offered me the celtics jacket. i didnt even hug him goodbye

and then of course he went back home. theres a million girls all over his instagram comments all the time. theres nothing special about me. he doesn't want to talk. i wrote my ap psych notes in green yesterday bc i was so in love with that stupid celtics jacket

im a sixers fan. the sixers and the celtics have been rivals forever. it was about to be war, except i want to move to boston. but really i want to move to dc. i wish the whole world was philly. things would be less complicated

im in love with a celtics jacket. a celtics jacket. of all teams. and i cant even talk to my basketball friends about it because they think im dumb shit for falling for some celtics fan with a million girls all over his instagram comments all the time

im not like those girls. i don’t think im like those girls. but i definitely exactly am

i have an economics test in fifteen minutes. i think one day ill drown in the atlantic ocean.

the test wasnt that bad. i thought about writing this the entire time. i would just zone out and stare and think about the phrase ‘al horford sleeper agent’

because he has to be. why else would someone put a diehard sixers fan right in front of a diehard celtics fan who looks exactly like the guitarist of their middle school favorite band

in reality i should be calling him a celtics sleeper agent because the whole point is that al horford is a sleeper agent for the celtics. but i hate al horford so i guess it’s more funny to include him in the title

i mean how can one player change so drastically like that? al horford was benched for the first time since his rookie season, like, two weeks ago after being traded to the sixers. how does that happen? why *wouldn’t* he be playing badly so his old friends win the title?

al horford’s gotta be retiring in like, three years, tops. he’s working for the celtics, i know it. and my sleeper agent is trying to convert me to a celtics fan

i understand why people make jokes, though. it’s a very human thing to want to go home. al horford just wants to go home. he lived in boston for however many years let me look it up

god whatever it was only three years i thought it was like eleven that just ruined my point

back to the matter at hand though that’s all we’re trying to do. we all just want to feel at home. we’re all just these little things trying to connect somehow. sometimes we are more desperate than others

i think im pretty desperate right now. sometimes i sit in my bedroom and im like damn when do i get to go home? but im home

i didn’t even want to leave dc. it was all star break and there wasn’t even basketball on. so there i was, in basketball purgatory, wizards territory for some god forsaken reason, losing sleep over a celtics fan and not wanting to go home

and when i say i was losing sleep you better believe me. i was so excited to wake up in the morning that i didn’t want to fall asleep. i wanted to be awake forever, endless, running through the city

i’ll get there soon enough. it’ll be with different people. college, yknow. all that. but sometimes i feel like certain things can’t be replaced.

and im acting like a different person lately. im using my phone at red lights just so i can check for a message from the sleeper agent. it’s always one word responses

yes. ok. maybe. some shit like that. a haha every once in a while. he’s not interested and i should stop trying

and then, INEVITABLY, i send something stupid back, a photo of my hand on the wheel or something, and i get left on read

and i know im stupid for it. everyone i know is screaming at me “disco, you’re dumb shit” but i just want to believe for a minute that im loved, im special

I want to feel like someone out there cares about me that isn’t obligated to, yknow? my mom can say she loves me all she wants but it doesn’t feel as good as some italian celtics fan saying it

some hot italian celtics fan mind you

even if he wasn’t hot or italian it would be nice. and actually it would be better if he liked like, ANY other basketball team

except maybe the knicks

but whatever. main point: i know im dumb shit and should stop trying. but it feels good to feel like if i keep trying maybe i’ll be wanted

sleeper agent is just one of those people tho. he’s magnetic and everyone always wants to be around him. dumb as hell in the most charming way ever. my friends are still all making fun of me

i started crying in a pizza place the other night because even the CONCEPT of italy sent me over the edge. i need to stop before i

wait what’s the word

i need to stop before i immortalize him? no, no

i need to stop before i deify him. soon enough he’s going to be a new canonical character in my head and i’ll start making up legends and stories to myself

we barely knew each other. if i deify him i’ll start telling people he offered me the celtics jacket when it was cold out. he’ll become a perfect gentleman. and he wasnt. he was just some stupid hot italian boy in a bright green jacket

im not going to deify him. it won’t happen. but i love the color green. i always say i love yellow more but i think that’s passed. i wear a green ring on my right ring finger every day. im not going to deify him and i still hate the celtics

overall, the celtics are winning the rivalry. i don’t think the sixers have ever truly been “great,” at least outside of philly. maybe allen iverson. wilt chamberlain. dr j? theyve never had like, a dynasty. idk. i don’t think you’d be able to get a sixers jacket in italy.

it’s his birthday today. i should probably text him. i should probably stop thinking about him. that’s just dumb shit, disco youre better than this what happened to a little self confidence every now and again

sure lets say external validation isnt necessary but also i think that’s something the mindfulness crowd made up to sell more planners and tote bags in 2011. it feels good to be wanted

never waste all your time on it sure. know youre still worth it even when you have no friends and there are a million girls all over his instagram comments. but it does feel good to hear “goodness disco i like how much you like the philadelphia 76ers”

my friends are all making fun of me for being on some romeo and juliet shit because he’s literally from verona and he’s a celtics fan and im a sixers fan god damn it disco why does this always happen

i never even read romeo and juliet but i saw the dreamworks adaptation so i guess ive got the story relatively right i know they die in the end. the gnomes shatter into little pieces i think

anyway tangents aside the sixers won tonight. philly is lit up green. why the hell is philly lit up green? the eagles were done like three months ago and the flyers are orange. why is philly lit up green

oh god, he just snapped me. a zoomed in photo of himself with caption that says “76ers” with like five exclamation points

here we go again, everybody

wish me luck

[nijuuuu]

Fire Hazard

As y’all could apparently tell, a certain fic author has inspired me to write some gay. So here’s some fluffy gay.

Original fic for @fictober-event​.

Prompt 19:  “Yes, I admit it, you were right.” 

Rating: T+

Title: Fire Hazard

Warnings: Alcohol mentions, light harassment

AO3 mirror here.

Sophie moved like a skillful calligrapher’s brush, leaving behind deliberate, knowing strokes with every footstep. When she got close enough, the scent of freshly brewed lattes drifted through the air, and when the sun was shining, you could see pretty auburn dots run along the nape of her neck. Even her dorky glasses paired absurdly well with the gently cresting waves of her umber hair.

Sophie was beauty. Sophie was grace.

And Sophie was irritatingly straight.

“Why don’t you take a picture, paintcan? It’d last longer,” she smirked, shimmying into her usual chair.

Cait glared and stuck her tongue out. “Tough luck. I’m stuck with you until the lease runs out. And… I was staring at your shirt. You have a rough night?”

Sophie tilted her head to the side and absentmindedly ran two slender fingers over one of the holes in her shirt, revealing just a little more of her smooth, pale skin. “Hmm, I seem to recall you having a rough night yourself a while back. Or, more accurately, waking up next to one.”

“She was a mistake. A drunken, mistake, you overpaid coffee machine, and that was three months ago.” Cait avoided her roommate’s gaze by lifting her mug of scalding tea to her face. HOT HOT HOT. Keep it together.

Sophie giggled, a sound so bright it could make the sun wear sunglasses. “Well. It’s costume day at the cafe! Isn’t that exciting?”

“You going as ‘laundry night’? You’re gonna be freezing your butt off.”

“Think more ‘drop-dead gorgeous werewolf,’” Sophie shot back, a hint of honey in her voice. A few keys jingled, and suddenly she was waltzing her way to the front door. “I’ll post the finished look on Insta, ‘kay? Look forward to it! And I’ll get tonight’s groceries. Just grab a good lunch, sleepyhead!”

And just like that, the scent of lattes disappeared, and the sky was downcast again.

See? Irritating.

Cait let out a beleaguered sigh and sank down in her chair. “Sleepyhead” was a new one. And with every new one came a new emotion she didn’t know she could have, and certainly not one she knew how to deal with.

She didn’t sign up for this. Not at first, at least. Despite their constant bickering, the two had been good friends since high school. When they managed to get into the same university, they decided to move in together. Sophie was kind of a mess back then, and she had terrible taste in men. So moving in was for her own good. Yep. That was it. Cait could think of no other reason.

Until Sophie became less of a mess. She started to go through boyfriends slower than one a month, thank god, until the number finally dwindled down to zero. Then came her brushstroke movements and the way she would gently lift that lucky soup spoon to her lips. She started to do heart-melting little gestures, leaving fresh plates of cookies on the countertop, placing little sticky notes on the fridge to wish her roommate a good day. And then she landed that new job at the cafe. Cait was always weak for a good latte. She never stood a chance, really.

It had been almost two years since then, two tantalizing years. “Never get with your roommate,” her friends had cautioned her. “It never ends well.” That, plus the fact that Sophie had loudly proclaimed her love for men after a drunken night or two of revelry. Ah, how love can fizzle out as quickly as it sparks. Really, Cait never stood a chance.

“So can my dumbass heart stop for just one second!!” she yelped, leaping up in her chair. She couldn’t think straight with her roommate around, damnit! How inconsiderate. How irritating. She had commissions to finish, and a strongly worded letter to send to her professor, and that 200k slowburn wasn’t going to read itself.

That last one sounded good right now. Drawing could wait. Cait slapped her mug into the sink and trundled her way over to her laptop.

A few tear-jerking hours later, she felt her phone buzz on the tabletop. She took a glance. The barista of her dreams had just shared a post on Insta.

Cait had never unlocked the screen faster.

Sophie always looked cute in her uniform. But today, she was positively heavenly. Her apron caressed the generous curves of her torn shirt, giving the slightest peeks to a sight that could make anyone’s stomach churn. Her black stockings stretched over her short but heinously delicate legs, ending inside her fuzzy brown boots. She was holding a drink and biting the straw with a vengeance while wearing a playful expression on her face that really did not help Cait’s problem. Actually, the adorable creature was even baring a set of fake fangs, which really, really did not help the problem. Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and a soft wolf-ear headband sat atop her head. And she was winking, her long lashes practically kissing the lenses of her big round glasses, showing off a hint of her brownish-red eyeshadow that unfortunately drew the line of sight directly to those irritatingly honeyed irises.

She was probably violating a few dress codes. She was a fire hazard. A horribly dangerous fire hazard in Cait’s heart.

Another notification broke the silence. This time, it was a DM.

Soupie: Paintcan!!

Soupie: New look uploaded!!! ;>

Soupie: Pretty fired up today.

Kitcait: Oh. Didn’t notice

Soupie: Well, NOTICE!!!

Kitcait: Still wearing that shirt in the freezing cold I see

Kitcait: Blogger to the core

Soupie: ...

Soupie: If you didn’t like the look, you can just say so.

Kitcait: No!! No. I actually think it’s really cute. Really. I don’t think anyone else could pull it off as well. Cute and seasonal. Nice ears lmao

Soupie: I--

Soupie: Thanks.

A moment passed.

Soupie: Suspicious thanks, but thanks, Cait.

Kitcait: Ye

Soupie: How’s your lunch going? You eating well, you vampire?

Cait snorted and sent Sophie a quick selfie with her half-eaten cup of instant noodles.

Kitcait: Meal of champions

Soupie: HEY!!!

Soupie: You’re gonna pass out from malnutrition some day!

Soupie: We’re going to have a decent dinner and I will cook the whole thing and feed it to you by hand if I have to.

Kitcait: Looking forward to biting your hand

Soupie: Worth it. Break’s over gotta go see you in 4

Ahhh,

Oh, jeez.

That adorable, kindhearted, devastating idiot.

How was she supposed to concentrate on anything now?

“Deep breaths, dumbass,” said Cait, clutching her comically pounding chest.

It was a bright, crisp autumn day outside. Some fresh air couldn’t hurt. A quick stroll might help. Maybe she could go get those groceries instead. But she would have to meet Sophie as she got out from work. You know, so they didn’t accidentally double up on expensive produce. Yeah, that’s why. Not because the short, peppy woman happened to be Aphrodite in an apron.

Cait stood up tugged on her overcoat. She paused as she saw the enormous orange blanket scarf that hung by the door, a relic from the previous tenants of their apartment.

Well. Just in case, yeah?

Cait lifted the fabric and hung it on her arm, and she was out the door as well.

Her arms were starting to get sore from lugging around two full bags of food, but luckily for her, she had the gift of long legs and a quick gait. And she was already getting close to the cafe. It would be all worth it if she could just see--

Sophie, standing right outside her workplace, in all of her ‘drop-dead gorgeous werewolf’ glory. The bottom of her shirt was tied in a little knot now, lifting above her midriff and her long plaid circle skirt. Cait tried her very, very best not to get lost in the sight of the most dazzling roommate in the world.

A roommate who, to her immediate dismay, was chatting with a local frat boy.

“Jerry, I’m too tired for this, I really have to get home--”

“Come on! Hey, you look great today.” His voice rumbled up and down the street like a revving engine, attracting more than a little attention from passers-by.

“I really have to--”

“Just one drink? I’m buyin’! We can go get the good stuff!” The wild gorilla-man gesticulated a little too enthusiastically. Enough was enough.

“Sophie!” Cait stepped forward and ruffled the barista’s hair. “Funny I should see you here.”

“Hey!” Jerry’s tone soured. “I saw you at that party. You’re that dy--”

“Six-foot-tall, MMA-certified lesbian,” snapped Cait, “who would love an excuse to smack your scrawny ass into the leaves. Or, you know. To call the cops.”

The man scoffed and thankfully began to trundle away. “You’re no fun anyway.”

Cait let out a shaky sigh. It really wasn’t like her to pick a fight, but hell if she didn’t look at least a little bit cool in the heat of the moment.

She turned back towards Sophie.

“Hey. Are you hurt?”

Her roommate shook her head and stepped a little closer, holding the sides of her arms. “I’m okay. I don’t think he was going to do anything, he’s just kinda pushy, but...” Sophie looked up with soft eyes. “Thanks. Cait.”

Suddenly, fireworks.

So irritating!

“Anyway, MMA? Really?”

Cait chuckled, thankful for the change of topic. “I did taekwondo as a kid. Same difference.”

Her roommate let out a heart-stopping giggle, and they started walking back home. Somehow, up close and in person, she was a couple thousand times cuter. And suddenly the sidewalk became an object of close scrutiny.

“Achoo!”

Cait quickly glanced back over and let out an involuntary snort. Sophie was shivering in her scandalously frayed top, her nose and cheeks growing pink.

“Come on, wolfie, let’s sit down somewhere.”

As they made their way to a park bench, the taller girl slipped off her overcoat and draped it around Sophie, who let out a noise somewhere between a grunt and a breath of appreciation.

“Told you you’d get cold,” said Cait in a hushed tone, tucking the scarf around her friends’ neck.

Sophie scrunched up her face in a way that made the lesbian say a quick internal prayer of thanks that the two could exist at the very same point in time, just centimeters apart in this cold, cruel world.

“Yes, I admit it, you were right.”

Ugh.

Even her pout was perfect.

Then she flipped around and pressed up against Cait, filling her mind with nothing but coffee grounds and confetti. Sophie’s hair was on fire in the golden-hour glow as she leaned her head against her roommate’s chest. A couple stray threads tickled Cait’s jaw and positively set her cheeks ablaze as well.

“You know,” Sophie said with a playful sigh, “you’d be pretty good boyfriend material.”

Cait gave a slightly bitter scoff. “What about girlfriend material?”

They said nothing for just a moment too long.

The world passed by a mile a minute around them, and the feisty barista was uncharacteristically silent.

Suspiciously silent.

Sophie buried her face in that annoyingly orange scarf.

Cait fought back her heart as it threatened to leap up to her throat. She’d felt this before. But something was different this time. Oh gods, maybe, just maybe, something was different this time.

“Soph,” she whispered softly, her voice breaking with every heartbeat. “Can… can I see your face right now?”

The shorter girl disobediently turned the other way.

But Cait leaned forward, reaching out, and suddenly she was slowly easing her pouting crush’s head to face her own and gently prying the warm, soft scarf back downwards. It revealed a constellation of vivid freckles set aglow. And Sophie’s face was the most beautiful shade of red in the world, even redder than Cait had imagined in her wildest dreams.

“Holy cow,” Cait exhaled.

And for a single, heart-stopping moment, all the two could do was stare.

Until all of a sudden, fingertips were combing through umber hair, and slender hands were clinging on to the others’ back, and lips were meeting each other in near-painful desperation.

Sweet, soft, tender paradise for just a few seconds.

“I thought--”

“Cait. Hush,” whispered Sophie, looking directly into her roommate’s eyes this time.

And they both obliged and came together once more, a whirlwind of emotions kicking up in Cait’s heart that managed to settle on something warm and almost tearful. The kiss was gentler the second time around, a little kinder, and just a little harder to pull away again.

Then they both sat back into the bench, wide-eyed, looking off into the treetops.

“Weren’t you straight?” blurted Cait.

“Back then? I said I liked guys, you disaster, not that I exclusively liked guys.” Sophie seemed to be fighting back an enormous smile, cheeks still holding their brilliant rosy tint. “Plus, you didn’t hear what I mumbled after that. That I was maybe starting to think about girls. Well. Girl. To be accurate.” She continued, voice trailing off.

“Oh,” was all said girl could manage, as she felt soft arms wrapping gingerly around her.

For a beautiful moment, Sophie was all there ever was.

“You know,” the barista giggled mischievously into her roommate’s ear, “I can maybe. Think of some other nicknames I’d like to call you now.”

And Cait was on fire again.

“How about we make dinner first?”

[lady-olive-oil]

Work Out: Chapter 2

Writings || Florian Index || MTC ||

What up, what up! It’s ya girl Liv here with another chapter of Work Out. In this chapter we’ll go deep into Geneva’s past and her favorite past time. Let me know if ya wanna join the Lil Nasties Squad. I also added 2 new characters to the roster, one is Josephine Montoya-Wade (in MTC) and the other one, well you’ll see soon. Thanks for reading! Stay tuned from scenes for our next episode. Skating visuals linked in bold.

WC: 3.4K [I’m starting to think each chapter will be this long]

Warnings: suggestive themes, dirty flashback if ya squint

Tag Team, Lil Nasties: @maddiestundentwritergaines || @sparklemichele || @designerwriterchic || @honeychicana || @chaneajoyyy || @jojolu || @dc41896 || @titty-teetee || @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove || @ljstraightnochaser || @mimigemrose || @crushed-pink-petals || @fumbling-fanfics || @madamslayyy

The sounds of 70’s to 00’s music rumbled through the rink, as skaters young and old all came together for one night in solidarity. For those who can skate that is. Others like myself however, have been in the game for years.

“Come along and ride on the fantastic voyage.” I couldn’t help but sing along to the sounds of my childhood. Seeing friends of old and new in the rink made me feel at home again. Not like good old nostalgia to make you feel at peace.

“Is that Jimmy and Trinity? The franchise let them have a break before the big match? That’s new.” Destiny got my attention by noticing two old friends of mine from the past.

I was a trainer for WWE in Orlando, years ago. I have met the past; present and the future of the company come in and out of those doors. It was a tremendous job to have right out of college, that I will forever cherish. I’ve grown close to most of everyone from all rosters. I left due to some personal reasons.

“Yeah it is. Let’s go say hi.” Maneuvering through the busy crowd I tapped the glow queen herself, and was met with an excited squeal. Thus rewarded with a loving hug with just enough force.

“Gege! It’s am so glad to see you. How’ve you been girl?” Upon giving Destiny and Cynthia their hugs as well, Jimmy and Jey both hugged us all in a group hug.

“I’ve been well, about to be blessed with a divorce soon.” Taking a swig of my Angry Orchard Rośe, I heard Trinity chuckle.

“You finally went through with it. Proud of you little sis.” Jimmy commended me, with Jey nodding in agreement.

“Thanks Uce, It’s been a long time coming too. Trust and believe me, Dede and Cyn are throwing me a divorce party. What better city to do it in, than Atlanta?” You better believe I was looking forward to that party. Nothing was going to keep me away from it.

“You know I’ll be there. Even if I have to drag Jimmy with me.” Trinity nugged her husband, who was in a deep conversation with his twin over which food is better: bacon double cheeseburger vs mozzarella sticks.

“Huh? Uh yeah Atlanta seems cool.”

“That’s funny because last time I remember, you weren’t going for my good sis to move to the ATL.” I arched a brow in mock curiosity, causing Jimmy to blush a tad.

“At first I was but then I realize she needs a lot of family around no matter what. Plus Georgia and Florida ain’t far, so we came to an agreement.” Placing a kiss on how wife’s head, made all of us smile in pure joy.

“Y’all are sickeningly cute. Let’s go skate, I gotta get my groove on.” Lacing up my white skates, the ones with the hot pink wheels, and neon green laces on them, I saw a pair of Jordan’s come into view.

“Well well well, look who showed up.” Leaning against the table, giving a glance over

“Couldn’t stand my cousin up now could I?” Michael  showed his pearly white teeth, before giving me a hug. Looking up behind him I see Florian in all his glory.

His tight black v-neck shirt; with matching jeans and red polo sneakers just made him irresistible. His hair and beard were clean cut, and what set it off was his gold link chain around his neck. If I’m being completely honest here y’all, at some point I plan on yanking on that gotdamn chain and-

“Hello gorgeous.” His deep voice broke my inner thoughts and just melted my insides. Making my body feel all warm and giddy. This man does things to me already.

“Well hello there handsome. I see my cousin let you come out and roll with the big dogs huh?” Smirking a bit as I skated around him on the rubber glow in the dark floor.

“Actually he didn’t want to come, I dragged him. He wanted to stay in all day and watch Netflix.” The way he laughed was even a magical tone. Like you could be hugged by a velvet blanket, by a cozy fire in the middle of winter.

“Oh? Damn Baraki, you don’t wanna spend time with ya cousin? I’m hurt.”

“I’m here aren’t I? Besides, had to break out my skates from retirement and help Florian buy his from Amazon. Turns out, the dude here owns a pair, without my knowing” He shrugged and stuck his tongue out at me when I flipped him off. Feeling glad that the rink had given us the party section to have us somewhat away from fans. Yet a few had asked for pictures, and I didn’t mind taking them for them.

“Yeah yeah. Anyway, Florian do you know how to skate?” I asked gently.

“Little bit. Haven’t had the time to in a while, just been training more often.” His reply was honest and sincere. Man why isn’t her dating anybody already?

“Oh really? Well I wouldn’t mind teaching you a bit.” The slight bite on my bottom lip, caused Florian to smirk at me before taking a sip of his Heineken.

“I’m sure you could.” He mumbled just enough for me to hear, letting me hold his beer so her could tie his skates up.

His arms bulged with every movement, a vein popped a few times and it just made my body hum in desire and need. That was until I felt my phone vibrated, I gave him back his beer, and watched as he skated with Michael over to the Dj booth. Checking my phone for a few updates from friends and fans of my work, I received a message from Cassie that she had arrived.

Cassie was also another childhood friend of  mine who had no issue with telling you how it is. Knowing that she moved back to the city as well, made it all better for me to have friends. My phone buzzed again, letting me know a message came again. This time I was worried. Re-reading the message, I felt my face scrunch in confusion.

Cassie: Uh Geneva don’t be alarmed but a certain blonde walked in.

What was she talking about? Responding as fast as I could, I looked around the section and saw nothing.

Me: who?

Looking at Trinity, who nodded her head in the front direction of the rink.

Trinity: she devil

Me: oh fuck

The she devil in question, was another former trainee of mine at the facility back in 2016, when I had started. She is one of the major causes of my divorce; Mandy Rose. I don’t see what the WWE universe sees in her anyway. All the while I know what I did see; Jake’s dick in her in our bed.

“Watch my back.” I told the girls, and they all looked towards where I was skating at. They soon followed me when they knew immediately where I was going. The memories came flooding back.

I haven’t spoken to Mandy sinch I quit. It was around April of last year, Wrestlemania season, when everything went down and I had filed for divorce 2 weeks later. That was the final nail in the coffin of my marriage with Jake, and I couldn’t take it anymore. With all the blatant disrespect; the awkward silences when I asked him about the finances of our joint accounts; the secret rendezvous he’d have coming home late, the high expense charges and the lying.

I thought he was different from all the others but that was lie, a bold face lie. We got married right after graduation, in 2014, two years later I started working in Orlando. The first full year on the job I introduced Jake to Mandy. It had been a whirlwind to work for WWE with my medical degree, to make sure the superstars were in tip top shape. With the constant bickering, physical altercations and accusations he threw at me, about sleeping with one of my coworkers I had to put out marriage on pause that same year.

A year of separation had put my mind into perspective and think about what I wanted out of this marriage. We had agreed to meet up at our house, I was staying at Cynthia’s at that time, for dinner to catch up. I still had a key to the condo, it was in my name, and I looked all over the house for him. What do I see walking up the stairs? Mandy riding Jake like no tomorrow. He tried to save his ass by running away from me, as I waved my steel bat at him. Mandy was long gone and laughing by then.

Putting in my resignation was hard but I had to do it. Now more than ever, I was focused on me and only me. Moving back home to New York was just the beginning. During the first few months, filing for divorce, I did go on a few dates. Only a few guys came home with me, none of them satisfied the itch I craved. Maybe Florian could be the one to fix that.

Trying not to fall while skating through the crowd, I made it to the group that just came in. Sonja Deville sported me quick and pulled me into a tight embrace. The death glare I set straight towards Mandy could be picked out of a much bigger crowd.

“Geneva! It’s been too long. How’ve you been?”

Keeping my composure I returned Sonja’s gesture.

“I’ve been well, been well. Working on my personal trainor thing, keeping the lights on. I’m always busy, plus going back to school so yeah.”

I made it my priority, to keep my bond strong with Sonja, after I left the company. When I told the MMA fighter about the scene I witnessed, she couldn’t fathom it either. She promised to keep an eye out on Mandy for me as well.

She was one of the first people, besides my crew of course, to message me about the sly matching posts on Instagram, between Florian and I. She wished us nothing but luck and invite her to the wedding in the future.

“I hear ya. I hear ya. Just to let you know, I did keep- ah hell.” An exaggerated sigh escaped Sonja’s lips, causing my face to contort in confusion.

“Uh something wrong?” I asked curiously, seeing her visibly gulp.

“Want me to be honest?”

“I expect nothing from a woman who kicked my ass in practice back in Orlando.” Earning a soft chuckle from her, she sighed and turned me around to the scene.

“That little bitch.” The growl that erupted in the back of my throat, made Sonja go wide eyed.

“Geneva-”

Before she could even finish that sentence, a let my anger skate me towards Florian. I was already attached to him and I didn’t want Mandy to ruin that for me. She was touching all over him; feeling him up, touching his face, shoving her silicone bean bags in his face and just being her trashy self. The look of discomfort shown on his face, but soon shifted once I came into view.

“Hey Florian, ready to go skate?” I intervened so fast, that you could see steam coming out of Mandy’s ears.

“Well lookie here, It’s the hag. Listen honey, he doesn’t want to skate with the likes of you. He’s having fun talking to me. Isn’t that right Florian?” Moving her hand on his chest, you could see the disagreeable expression on his face. Upon removing her hand from his chest, he stood by me and I felt my body temperature erupt in euphoria and triumph, as if I had won.

“Well I was here to skate with Geneva and her friends.”

Mandy sneered at me with her fake lips and tosses her bleach blonde hair.

“Fine, but this isn’t over Geneva. May the best woman win. Oh and Florian, I’ll catch you later.” Being the snake that she is, she leaned up on her tippy toes and placed a kiss on his cheek, before leaving with her friends. I wanted to claw at her face so bad, yet I’m surprised Florian held me back.

“It’s Genevieve to you.” I gritted through my teeth.

You see, lately I’ve been talking to Florian about myself, opening up a bit more, getting to know one another better and such. I had mentioned Mandy in the conversation, how she was one of the causes of my divorce, and how she tried to one up everyone. He knew her through a friend of theirs, they chatted and had a night together.

Although she got too clingy for  him after that and it’s not in him to just let a woman go after a night, but he needed to be away from her. By the time this all transpired, it was before his practice scenes for Creed. That’s when I met him on set a month later.

“I’m sorry that happened Geneva. Nor did I know she was coming either.” He tried to sooth and keep me calm. I had never been consoled by another man who wasn’t my father or my brothers.

Glancing up at Florian I saw hope; dedication and devotion. Some qualities I loved in any man, but this man here was something else. Collecting myself together, I took a breather and skated away from him on to the rink floor.

“It’s all good Flo.” The way I said his nickname, caused his face to heat up in embarrassment. The action caused his sweet smile to appear as he leaned against the rock wall, watching me groove to the music in place for a bit. He was entranced by just a little movement.

“So I hear that you’re, Queen of skating huh?”

“Maybe so. If you can keep up with me during this song or the next I’ll go on that date.”

“Wait wait, for real?” He arched a brow, as I nodded.

“Foreal. I’ll go on a date with you if you can keep up.” Sending off a wink before I skated off to the jumping sounds of reggae music. Moving my hips to the rhythm, I kept eye contact with him as I move to the beat.

My hips have a mind of their own, as I float across the floor and take off my jacket. I managed to hand it to Cynthia as I skated around to hand it to her and I kept going. I always felt at home here, it was never a dull moment.

Upon hearing the song change over, to Rock the Boat by the ever so great Aaliyah,I felt a pair of strong hands grace my hips. I didn’t think he’d catch up to me.

“Guess who?” His warm voice graced my left ear, and sent chills through my body, as we grooved to the music in sync. Moving my hips on instinct against him, rolling in tandem with his hands around the rink.

“So Flo got rhythm. So tell me, how do you know how to skate?”

“A movie you mentioned, that was your favorite. May have picked up a few pointers.” Grabbing my hand on cue, he twirled me around before bring me back to his strong, broad chest. I stand corrected, I was in heaven.

“You watched Roll Bounce? And you listened to me too.”

“And I’ve been skating since I was 10. So that’s just a bonus.”

Dancing on him with the music changing, made the tension grow hotter and more sensual. Lost Without You started playing and I followed Florian’s movement this time around. Hearing his gentle voice singing in my ear once more, I began to sing along with him. I haven’t felt this much emotion in so long, I’m starting to feel like this was meant to happen. The smooth gentle rocking, made me feel like I was floating. We were floating. I felt safe in his arms more than I thought. I could feel his rigid muscles through his shirt on my back, making me hold back a moan.

I know he could feel the connection as well. The grip on my hips told me otherwise. Placing my hands on top of his, I laced our fingers together before turning to skate backwards.

“White boy got some moves. I like it, you can keep up with me.” He twirled me around a bit before holding me against his chest again. I leaned my head back to look up at him a little, just to place a kiss on his chin.

“That’s not all I can do.” The deep baritone bass of his throat made me want to jump his bones right then and there.

“Oh I bet.” I teased him back by rotating my ass against him, earning a low growl to erupt from his chest. Gege can play too Flo.

The Dj let everyone know that it was time to roll out, and to drive safely. Rolling off the floor, we met up with our group and planned the next move of action to extend the night. The rink was starting to close up soon, so we all met in the parking lot.

“Girl we saw you and Florian getting down like an old southern couple.” Cynthia nugged me, giving me a sly look.

“Y’all were doing the damn thing.” Destiny winked and caused me to laugh a bit.

Cassie high fives me before heading to her car.

“Geneva, I’ll catch you later this week aight? Gotta get up for work in the morning. I’ll see if I can bring Josephine to the meeting.”

Sending her my love my regards, I placed my skates in the back of my Range Rover.

“So y’all good for some bar hopping? I know this great spot along the jersey shore.” Ryan mentioned while looking up the directions.

“I can’t. I have class in the morning and a test, I need to be sober for. Sorry guys.” Gently replying I smiled up at the crew before shrugging.

“Dang maybe next time. Oh what about our monthly couples game night? How about Monday, Geneva’s?” Destiny suggested as she headed towards her Jeep renegade.

“Couples game night? Sounds intriguing, I’m in. I’ll bring Johari, you in Florian?” An enthusiastic Michael was all anyone could handle.

Glancing over at me, he smirked gently.

“Yeah I’m down. Geneva, I’ll pick you up tomorrow from class for our date. See y’all around.” Placing a kiss on my cheek, I sighed heavily and bit my lip. This man was gonna be the death of me. The action caused him to chuckle adorably.

“Deal. See you tomorrow Flo.” Kissing his cheek, I saw his face heat up again. Seeing him walk away with my cousin, I let out a soft groan.

“Girl, you are sprung.” Cynthia smirked at me while Destiny let out a gut busting laugh.

“She got it bad.” Destiny couldn’t help herself.

“I will say this; I hate to see him go, but I love to watch him leave. His ass is sculpted like a god.” I fanned myself in the process.

Hugging my friends goodbye, before getting into my car and driving home, I glanced down at the sound of my phone going off. Glancing down for a split second, I saw the notification. I had received a text message from Florian.

Making it home safely I got ready for my shower and for bed; tying down the massive mess of my 4c curls in a silk scarf, I finally read the message. Leaning against my room door, I read it over and over again, feeling all giddy.

Florian:

Can’t wait for tomorrow night gorgeous. I promise it’ll be worth it. You deserve the best and I plan on delivering. Sweet dreams my queen.

This man knew how to charm his way through anything. Getting back on track, I kept staring at the message. I had to reply and not be rude. So I kept it short and sweet, yet tasteful.

Me:

Looking forward to what you have in store handsome.

“Damn Florian. My heart is yernin for ya love..” singing gently to myself before getting into the shower, I felt powerful. Maybe this is my chance to finally be happy. To finally be free from my chains of the past. This whole turning over a new leaf thing, won’t be so bad after all.

[keiths-stupid-mullet]

Garrison flashback Keith gave me this idea that the reason he got into a fight with another kid in the first place was because said kid was bullying someone else, and Keith couldn't just stand back and watch so he intervened. My shipper heart likes the idea that the bullied kid was little Lance (I think there's even fanart of that scenario now lol), and that's a major part of why he became so fixated on Keith :D

ok i just. had to write this. i’m having some major Feelings™

If someone asked Lance what he remembered from that day, his answer would be “not much”. And it wasn’t a lie, technically. He didn’t remember much of what counted. Which wasn’t his fault, per se, since there wasn’t much to actually remember.

He remembered some dude being pissed at him. Why was still kind of a mystery to him; Lance thought it might have had to do with how he had winked at Jenny that morning and how she had giggled. He had met her at lunch a few days ago when she had helped him figure out which menu was the vegetarian one - she was nice. And pretty. They were friends. It wasn’t his fault if the guy couldn’t handle some competition.

Anyway, that was his theory. Hunk would say that it probably had to do with how he had accidentally spilled water over the guy’s textbook - he had been excited about the news that he’d get to fly a simulator for the first time next month - but Lance had his doubts. He had immediately apologized and offered to buy a replacement, after all. The dude clearly held a grudge against him that ran deeper than some spilled water.

Next thing Lance knew, the guy had drawn himself up to his full height and had started shouting at him. He had been older than Lance, taller, stronger, not as scrawny as him, and he had had a mean glare. Before Lance could even begin to collect himself, he had started insulting him - his “boring” hairstyle, how he had missed to fasten the topmost button on his uniform, how he had spoken a mix of English and Spanish in his excitement - he was sure there was more he had already forgotten, but bottom line was that it hadn’t been pretty. Hunk had cowered behind him and Lance himself had had his shoulders drawn up, wishing that the people in the hallway directed their attention towards someone else.

And then there had been a blur and a shout and another student had roughly shoved his way in front of Lance, chin drawn up and meeting Asshole Guy’s glare head on.

“Leave him alone,” he had said.

Lance hadn’t known the guy. He remembered his confusion clear as day, who was he? Why would he stand up for Lance if he had never met him? And of that Lance had been sure, he definitely would have remembered the guy’s wild, black mop of hair that might or might not have been against Garrison regulations.

“Who are you? This has got nothing to do with you, move.”

“No. You won’t hurt him.”

Lance’s chest had filled with wonder and begrudging admiration. Wasn’t the boy at all intimidated by how much taller the guy was?

“What? I never wanted to-”

“Go away!”

“No, you go away! This has nothing to do with you, now move.” Asshole Guy had extended his hand as if to shove Lance’s protector out of the way - a mistake.

The shorter guy had thrown himself at the arm, securing it underneath his armpit before punching him square in the jaw.

Lance had just stood there, shocked by what was playing out in front of his eyes and unable to tell either boy to back down. They probably wouldn’t have listened to him anyway.

After that, it hadn’t taken long for a superior officer to arrive. The woman had taken one look at the scene in front of her, had shouted “cadets!” and the entire hallway had straightened up.

“You two. My office. Now.”

Lance hadn’t forgotten the guy. Either guy, actually – but while he did his best to avoid Asshole Guy, he was actively on the lookout for the other one. If only he remembered more about him than his stupid hairstyle, he could have at least asked other cadets if they knew his name or something.

At some point, Lance thought he might have been expelled. He lost sleep over that, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if the boy had been kicked out in an attempt to stand up for him. Granted, Lance hadn’t encouraged him to get physical, but he hadn’t intervened either.

He felt terrible about it. More than anything, he wished he could talk to him.

Months passed. Lance learned that he was absolute shit at flying the simulator, but he didn’t let that stop him. Flying was fun. It was freeing and exciting and he was in charge. It was everything he had ever hoped it would be.

He would make fighter pilot. He didn’t care how many nights he had to spend going through flight maneuvers in his head, he would make it. Besides, everyone was shitty at flying the simulator for the first time, right?

Wrong.

Lance numbly stared at the wall in front of him. He was a cargo pilot, and not even a good one. He was plain average.

He tried to tell himself it was only his first year. He would have plenty of years to catch up and overtake the others. He would graduate as a fighter pilot, he would make sure of that. And not just any fighter pilot, he would be the best. He would beat number one and make sure that people remembered him. His eyes wandered up, up, up-

Keith. 342 points.

Lance smirked. He had a goal now. He wouldn’t let this get him down.

298. Lance stared at his points with a sinking feeling in his gut.

“Hey, great job! Weren’t you at like 200 last year?” Hunk asked beside him. “You’re in the top 10 now!”

“Yeah, top 10 of the cargo pilots, Hunk,” Lance bit out. 298. Keith had had almost 50 points more last year.

“True, but everyone’s gotta start somewhere, right? Top 10 is awesome, you can definitely make it if you just-”

Lance blocked out Hunk’s voice and searched for the fighter pilots. The lowest one had 319 points, not that Lance cared much. He was looking for the top, the first one-

Keith. 404 points.

Narrowing his eyes, Lance got closer to the board. He refused to let this discourage him. “Watch out,” he hissed, “I’m coming for your crown. Don’t get too comfortable up there.”

His third year at the Garrison held a surprise for Lance. He had just chosen his place in his Theory of Flight class when he sat down in front of him.

He. The boy from his first year. The boy who had been at the back of his mind of a few years now.

It was now or never.

“Hey,” he said. The boy didn’t react. “Hey!” he repeated, a little louder this time. He draped himself across his table in an attempt to tap the boy’s shoulder. “Hey, I’m Lance, do you-”

Lance was barely able get a glimpse of the boy’s face when the instructor raised his voice and began the class. With great reluctance Lance sat back down on his chair. It was just his luck that classes would begin when he had finally found the boy again.

Lance didn’t remember much of the class, other than the black mullet in front of him. He kept his intense stare up until the instructor dismissed them and the guy got up.

“Hey!” Lance exclaimed, but the word got drowned out by the general chatter in the class. Cursing under his breath, he hurried after him. His foot caught against the desk’s leg and he just barely managed to keep his balance, before awkwardly stumbling after him through the door.

“Hey, you, wait up-”

There the boy was.

But he wasn’t alone.

He was with Takashi Shirogane, star pilot of the Garrison and Lance’s hero.

Lance was frozen in the door, doomed to simply watch as Officer Shirogane accepted the papers the boy handed him and looked through them. He was smiling slightly at something the younger guy said before the masses swept them away. 

There was no way Lance could run after them now, he would make a fool out of himself in front of Officer Shirogane.

He stood rooted to the spot until one of his classmates asked him if he was okay. He gave her a too bright smile and sprinted off towards his room, hoping with every fiber of his being that Hunk was already back from class.

Alright. This time, Lance was prepared. So the boy who saved him during his first year knew Officer Shirogane, big deal. That didn’t mean he was totally out of his league or anything. They could still be friends, no problem. Maybe he could even introduce him to-

The guy with the mullet entered the classroom and Lance perked up. He had arrived extra early in hopes of catching him before classes started and it had paid off. Grinning, Lance waved at him.

“Hey! You’re here again.”

“Of course I am, I’m in this class,” the boy replied, frowning slightly. Despite looking a little put-off he set his books on the table in front of Lance, so Lance counted it as a win.

“Yeah, I noticed. My name’s Lance, do you remember me?”

The boy’s eyes widened and he gave Lance a quick once-over. “Um…”

“First year?” Lance helped. “You got into a fight…?”

That must have been the wrong thing to say, the boy instantly started scowling again. “I got into a lot of fights. What do you want?”

For the first time in a while, Lance felt uncertain about what to say. He wasn’t a shy person by any means, but he couldn’t get a read on this guy.

“Well, actually, I wanted to thank you. You got into a fight for me, so, yeah. Thanks, man. What’s your name?”

The boy’s frown hadn’t cleared up one bit, but he still said: “Keith.”

Lance swore his heart stopped beating for a moment. 

“Keith?” he repeated. “Keith, like… like fighter pilot Keith? Top of the board?”

Keith nodded slowly. Lance was numb.

“You're… you’re Keith. That Keith. And you know Officer Shirogane.”

“Shiro,” Keith said quietly.

Shiro. They were on nickname basis.

Lance must have made some ungodly noise because Keith looked suitably freaked out, but before he could say anything else the instructor entered the class.

For the second time in a row, Lance didn’t absorb a thing in his Theory of Flight class.

“HUNK!”

“WHA- Lance, what’s going on, are you okay, what happene-”

“Hunk, it’s him!”

“Who?!”

“It’s him! He’s the same person!”

“Who- who are we talking about?”

“Keith! Keith is the boy!”

“Oh, this is about your rivalry again. Dude, you gotta stop scaring me with that.”

“No! No no no no, Hunk, it’s him! The boy from the first year! It’s Keith! What am I gonna do?!”

There was nothing he could do. Nothing except chase after him.

(“Don’t follow in his footsteps.”)

And chase.

(“That guy is not gonna beat us in there!”)

And chase.

(“You know, Lance and Keith, neck and neck.”)

And chase.

(“We make a good team.”)

And chase.

(“It’s the red lion! You must go to it.”)

And chase.

(“Roger that, team leader.”)

And chase.

(“Who am I gonna make fun of?”)

And chase.

(“Hey everybody, Keith’s back!”)

And chase.

((“Hey, man. We’re home.”

“Guess so.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I came home a while ago.”

“You mean-”

“You guys are my home, Lance.”))

He could stop chasing now.

((“I used to be jealous of you.”

“What? Why?”

“Good looking, talented, ace pilot, best friends with Shiro, the list could go on.”

“…oh.”

“Yeah. I thought you were looking down on me.”

“…oh.”))

He didn’t have to prove himself anymore.

((“Did you ever look down on me, Keith?”

“I thought you were annoying. And that your jokes were terrible. Does that count?”))

He could have stopped a long time ago.

((“Lance! You’re back!”

“What, missed me already?”

“I thought you were gonna stay for longer.”

“Nah, I missed home.”

“But… but you were home.”

Lance chuckled. “Now I am.”))

They were Lance and Keith, side by side.

[mikeshanlon]

he’s all that: chapter two

fandom: it

pairing: reddie (richie tozier/eddie kaspbrak)

word count: 5k

one | on ao3

summary:

Richie smiled smugly, “You’ve got spunk Kaspbrak. I like that.”

“Why don’t you try shutting the fuck up Tozier,” Eddie retorted as the line moved forward, “So what is this, if not some ploy to get me to tutor you? Some sort of dork outreach program? Because I’m not interested.”

—

Or: The one where Richie Tozier has six weeks to get into a relationship and make someone fall for him. Only problem? That someone is the anxiety ridden, goody two shoes Eddie Kaspbrak, and he can’t even stand to be in the same room as Richie.

warnings: there is drug use in that bev/mike/richie are HUGE stoners. also this chapter there is mentions to maggie being an alcoholic. 

a/n: hey! decided to post two weeks in a row just to get the ball rolling (which is why i still dont have all the chapters figured out as promised, my apologies). i'll probably start the every other week thing for next update (so chapter three should be up by march 4th). i would try to do every week but im a college student who has Stuff to do and also makes gifs and im horrible at finishing my writing so, giving myself a realistic deadline that will still hopefully produce quality work. anyways, richie and eddie finally interact this chapter! it's.......................  a bit messy though. and we get to see the rest of the losers club in this one too. 

tag list:  @richietoaster, @wintersember, @howellhxlic, @ed-txzier, @clara-farl3y

After standing in the hallway arguing with Bev for ten minutes, (“I mean really Bevs, fuck!” “You said anyone.” “How do we even know he’s gay?!” “Richie, please.”) Richie resigned himself to the fact that he was going to find some way to charm Eddie. Maybe Beverly would let him borrow that spellbook she bought junior year when she had become obsessed with witchcraft and hexing the patriarchy.

Once school was finally over, Richie dropped off Mike at his farm per usual, ranting about the bet the whole ride over. The farm boy nodded along, but he knew the words ‘told you so’ sat on the tip of his tongue.  

They pulled up to his house, the engine idling so he wouldn’t have to spend time getting it to start again, “Don’t wait up for me tonight if you wanna smoke. Got lotsa research in store,” Richie said as Mike grabbed his backpack and got out of the car.

Mike raised a brow, leaning into the passenger window (which in its broken state always stayed down), “I’m surprised Rich. You never do your homework.”

“Homework shmomwork,” he tapped the end of his cigarette out the window before taking another drag, “Gotta figure out what little ol’ Edward likes. Time for some deep dark internet exploration.”

“Ah, you’re gonna stalk him. Wasting time on social media does sound much more in character,” Mike smiled.

“It’s not a waste Mikey darlin’, a shit ton of preemo dank is on the line.”

The other boy laughed and shook his head, “Godspeed Tozier.”

Richie saluted Mike as he reversed out back to the main road, Bigmouth Strikes Again blasting on the old car radio.

He weaved through the streets filled with kids walking home or trying to find something to do in this shit-hole town. Long afternoons spent at The Aladdin watching the newest releases or aggressively slamming his fingers down on his favorite game at the arcade came to mind; along with going out of his way to bother just about everyone in his path. Richie never really had many friends when he was younger, spending most of his time alone. He was grateful he crossed paths with Bev and Mike, to fate, luck, God if it existed. The universe was rarely kind to him, but finding them was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Plus, the first time he had smoked weed, but that was with them too.

Turning onto his street, Richie pulled up to the unsuspecting two-story white house. It was straight out of a handbook on the American Dream; but the closer one looked, the imperfections started to appear.

The box overflowing with bottles once filled with alcohol next to the recycling bin, which was already too full with more empty bottles. A crooked ‘Home Sweet Home’ sign by the front door. Dying grass, overgrown and conquered with the little weeds Richie used to make wishes on before blowing the seeds into the summer air (I wish for friends. I wish for better parents. I wish to be loved).

He parked the station wagon on the curb, saving the space next to his Mom’s car for his father.

Maggie’s car hadn’t been driven in months (years?), and Richie absently wondered if it would even work anymore. It was nice, a decent heater and it drove well, at least it did when she had bothered to drop him off at school as a kid. Despite her general lack of care for the wellbeing of others, Mrs. Tozier did not drink and drive. Meaning, she didn’t drive at all, as she was drunk off her ass most of the time.

Richie grabbed his books from the backseat and clambered out, fumbling to find his house key among the mess of weird keychains he bought while high.

He didn’t bother stating his presence, even as a pretense, giving up the habit long ago.

Maggie Tozier sat outside, her back facing the screen door in the kitchen. A cigarette rested from her fingertips, and Richie wasn’t sure if she was actually smoking it or just watching it burn. Of course, her other hand gripped a bottle of beer, and a wine cooler sat at her feet.

Richie scoffed and bounded up the stairs to his room, a ‘KEEP OUT’ sign and band posters adorning the door.

It was often said that one’s room reflected who they were as a person, and Richie was no exception. That is, to say, his room was an absolute fucking mess. His bed was never made, and clothes and knick knacks littered the floor (he had already tripped over some beat up sneakers as he walked in). Old mugs, comics, a lava lamp, lotion, and an ashtray Bev had made him in ceramics sat on his bedside table (read: an old wooden apple carton). The only thing that he kept clear was his record player and vinyls at the edge of the bed, which were meticulously organized.

He tossed his notebooks on his desk, alongside stolen pens, his laptop, and his bong. If his parents actually fucking talked to him he would bother to hide his shit, but it didn’t really matter.

Picking up his laptop and its charger, Richie was on his way out again. He could stay home to conduct his research, but he hated the stuffiness and how lifeless the house felt. It wasn’t really even a home, at least not his. Plus, coffee. It was a necessity, especially for the amount of bullshit he’d have to go through just for the tiny brat.

Richie drove to the Starbucks on Main and Belmont, strolling up to barista and ordering his usual: venti quadruple-shot, black. While he often gorged himself on sweets, his need for caffeine could only be sated by the purest form the coffeeshop could offer.

Per usual, the barista gave him a look, “You sure?”

“Listen, I’ve already made a shit ton of horrible decisions today. Trust me, this is not the worst of them,” Richie answered, sliding the cash across the counter

She raised her brows but said nothing else, handing him the change.

He set up shop at a table by the window in the back, away enough from the other patrons. Most of the time Richie threw caution to the wind, but he figured it would suspicious if someone saw him furiously stalking someone who looked like they hadn’t even graduated from middle school.

After retrieving his coffee, opening his MacBook, and plugging his headphones in, Richie scoured Instagram first. ‘Eddie.k’ didn’t post much, mostly some artsy photos, including ones of Bill and Stanley Uris (their other best friend). There were only one or two selfies, much to Richie’s disappointment. Eddie wasn’t actually too bad looking if you ignored his clothes, his hair, his… everything. Freckles dusted his face, concentrated around his little nose, a few on his lips. Cute lips. Cute cheeks. He had the urge to pinch them. But Jesus, that combover. What was he, a balding man in the 80’s?

Other than those pictures, Eddie hadn’t really posted to Instagram in months. He moved onto  his tagged photos. They had some more substance, although Eddie had pretty much only been tagged in pictures by Bill and Stan. It wasn’t like Richie wasn’t in the same boat of having only a few close friends, but at least he hung out with other people.

For the most part, the pictures were pretty normal, the three of them hanging out. Richie couldn’t help but snort at a picture of the three, presumably after a sleepover. They looked exhausted, hair messy, and were brushing their teeth. Pretty mundane, but Eddie had pulled a ridiculous face in the mirror. It was silly, but Richie hadn’t even thought Eddie was capable of making jokes or doing weird shit. The fucker was always uptight, serious even when they had a substitute. Unsurprisingly, Eddie did not appreciate the post.

eddie.k: literally stan delete this!!!!!!

stantheman: @eddie.k, sorry sweatie (:

Richie grinned and continued to scroll, stopping at a picture of Eddie lying down on the grass, laughing. He wore a red tracksuit, the one students wore to P.E. when the bitter chill of autumn came to Derry. His hair must’ve been a little sweaty, because it was curling up into a messy halo around his grinning face. Richie wanted to know this Eddie, see him curl up laughing, but he knew that would never happen.

He perused their profiles for a while before growing bored, downing a third of his coffee before moving on. Except Eddie didn’t seem to have a Twitter, or a Snapchat. A quick google search of his name only came up with a few images and… a Facebook profile?

Richie prayed that it was an old one Eddie had never deleted, but after the page loaded he saw that the most recent status was made last night.

“Oh my fucking god,” he whispered to himself.

Eddie’s profile picture made him look particularly child-like, a weird picture of him pointing to the camera like he was cool, even though the same hand had a clunky old watch wrapped around it. His header picture displayed the quote ‘there is bravery in being soft’.

Richie snorted, “Yeah, a soft fucking dick!”

Another patron scoffed at his fowl mouth, and he shot her a smug grin.

Eddie only had 40 friends on the site, which consisted of Bill, Stan, some of the other nerds at Derry High, and his mother and her friends. It wasn’t like someone’s Facebook friends actually mattered, especially because only middle aged mothers who posted minion memes about their alcoholism used it anymore, but it was still kinda pitiful.

His posts were generally uninteresting, stuff like ‘super nervous for the math test’, or ‘soooooooooooo bored ://///’. Otherwise, he mostly just shared pictures of cute dogs and DIY videos.

It was hard to find any useful information on Eddie, since he obviously lied a lot. Not in the way of bragging, or saying that he did things he didn’t (like Richie did). But there were comments from Mrs. Kaspbrak’s friends calling him a lady killer, or a few posts calling Carly Rae Jepsen cute (please, Run Away With Me is the one of gayest songs of all time). Eddie was closeted, and Richie knew from experience that someone could never really be themselves around others if they weren’t out.

What his profile lacked in useable information, it more than made up with blackmail material.

Take, for instance, little Eddie in possibly the gayest fucking hat imaginable.

He screeched as he saw the picture of the eleven year old, a white fedora-bucket hat hybrid sitting atop his tiny head, before breaking out into a full on wheeze. Richie was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe, and then he thought about Eddie using his inhaler in that gay ass hat and laughed even harder.

The other customers began to stare, some concerned, and others pissed off at the disturbance.

Once he had collected himself somewhat, Richie sent a screenshot to the group chat.

the losers

bev: oh my fucking G O D

richie: I CANT FUCKIN BREATHE ELRNKKLNERG

richie: LIKE F U C K !!! KLJKLGRJKLLEJK

richie: LOOK AT HIS GAY HAT

richie: LIKE, IT’S GAYER THAN WEARING NOTHING BUT A PRIDE FLAG AND GLITTER

richie: HE LOOKS LIKE A TWINKY SKIPPER

richie: HOW IS THAT HAT MORE GAY THAN EVERY SINGLE ONE RYAN EVANS WORE IN THE ENTIRE HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL FRANCHISE COMBINED

bev: i’m muting you

mike: me too

mike: also that hat isn’t that bad

“‘Not that bad?!’” Richie squawked, not that he’d be able to hear him.

(Really, Richie had no authority on the subject. He still donned the occasional Hawaiian shirt over his tees).

He refreshed Eddie’s profile, seeing that he had made a new status.

Eddie Kaspbrak: big night friday, nervous but excited !!!!

Richie raised his brows in intrigue, seeing that Bill and a handful of other people liked the status. What was going on Friday?

He checked to see if Bill had posted anything, if Eddie was going somewhere, chances were Bill was too.

Bill Denbrough: almost the weekend, finally ready to let loose

Seriously, it would’ve been so much easier if Bill was the guy Richie had to woo. Kid was probably fucking nervous for a party, a place where you threw caution to the wind and had a good time. Still, he made a mental note about finding out what their Friday plans were.

Richie sighed, taking another swig of his coffee, “God, what a fucking loser.”

Suddenly, his headphones were being tugged out of his ear by an angry middle-aged woman with short-layered hair and eye bags.

“Hey, what the fuck?” Richie glared, snatching back his headphones.

The woman returned the look, putting her hands on her hips, “Don’t you have respect for the other customers?!”

“Sweetheart, I don’t have respect for myself, let alone some PTA moms-- like the post-divorce haircut by the way.”

Apparently, his finger guns did not soften the blow, because the lady started to scream at him.

And, apparently, this lady was also the manager, and was pushing him out the door.

So great, Eddie and his dumb gay hat got him banned from Starbucks.

Even though he was wounded from Eddie’s betrayal, (because Richie getting kicked out was definitely not his fault-- it was Eddie’s homosexual headwear. An anthropomorphic device of chaos, that Eddie owned, so, yeah, it was Kaspbrak’s fucking fault.) Richie still skipped smoking on Thursday to spend his lunch with the tiny fuck.

Obviously, they hadn’t made plans to do so, but Richie had, and he really couldn’t delay starting the bet. There was a lot on the line.

So, after getting out of econ (turning in an unstudied for but probably aced quiz), and throwing his shit in his locker, Richie detoured to the cafeteria.

The place was a fucking mess, and it reminded Richie just why he avoided the place. It was pure chaos, loud and overwhelming, a million things to get distracted by. Freshman with their stupid rolling backpacks kept whizzing by, making Richie trip or get his feet ran over. The tables were already filled, the honor roll kids, the partiers, Gretta and her gang. Fucking cliches.

He got in line, picking up a tray and proceeding to fiddle with the buttons at the cuff of his black and white flannel; trying to tune out the buzz of conversation. It was weird, at parties he thrived on the noise and disorder, but here all it was doing was fucking with his ADHD.

Richie drummed a beat onto his tray as the line moved forward and picked the most edible looking slop from the menu. The lunch lady glowered at him as he reached for his money only to realize he had put it in the other pocket, fumbling to put the bills and coins on the counter.  

As she put the money in the register, Richie looked around the room, checking to see where Eddie was sitting. He was sat near one of the exits, carefully taking out his lunch and swinging his legs. And he was alone. Perfect.

“Kid, do you want a receipt or not?” the lunch lady snapped from across from him.

Richie blinked back into focus, “Uh, sure, sorry.”

She sighed and printed out the receipt, slamming it down on the tray, “Next!”

Grabbing his tray, Richie plucked up some plastic cutlery and made his way through the sea of students to Eddie Kaspbrak. He had to twist and lift his tray a bit, but eventually the crowds started to part a bit. A chorus of whispers started to erupt. Stupid small town.

“Is that Richie Tozier?”

“I think, but doesn’t he always get high with his stoner friends?”

“What is he doing here?”

“God, he’s so hot.”

Richie smirked, sending a wink at the girl’s praise before sitting across from Eddie. He watched for a moment as the boy continued to focus on on unpacking his utensils and napkins before clearing his throat.

Eddie’s eyes snapped up from his lunchbox, widening when he saw Richie.

“What the fuck?” It was meant to be a whisper to himself, but Eddie’s voice was louder than expected.

Richie grinned at the blushing boy, “Well, hello to you to Eds.”

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie snapped, returning to his food.

Richie waited for him to say something else, at least fucking look at him, but the little fuck kept his eyes glued to his grapes, nails aggressively ripping the fruit from their stems.

“Okay,” he started, taking a sip of his apple juice, “So, you may be wondering why I’m sitting with you—“

Eddie interrupted, annoyance apparent in every fiber of his being, “Is this gonna be quick or not?”

“I’m hoping it’s not quick, although given how hot I am it’s difficult for people to control themselves.”

A long, deep sigh came from Eddie’s (cute, soft) lips. Eddie grabbed at Richie’s hands, flipping them over so that the palms faced upwards.

“Wow, a bit forward, but I’m liking your style Kaspbrak,” Richie winked.

Eddie rolled his eyes and proceed to take out hand sanitizer from his fanny pack, squirting the floral scented product into Richie’s hands.

Honestly, what the fuck?

He must’ve sent the same message to Eddie with his face, because Eddie said, “You obviously aren’t gonna leave me the fuck alone, and if you’re gonna be in my space, you need to be clean.”

Richie raised a brow at this but rubbed the hand sanitizer into his hands anyways.

Jesus Christ, what a weird, defensive little bitch.

Eddie watched with focused eyes, and only spoke when Richie was finished.

“Continue.”

It took a moment for Richie to gain his bearings once more. This mission seemed dead on arrival, but he had to keep trying anyways.

“So, Eddie…” Richie trailed off, twirling the pasta on his plate before his eyes lit up, “Eddie Spaghetti, Eduardo, what’s up?”

Eddie scowled, “That’s not my fucking name!” he squeaked, “And ‘what’s up?’ I mean, we’ve barely even talked before. You think I’m just gonna put up with this because you’re Richie Tozier? I swear to god, if this is some fucking bullying thing...”

Around them, people began to stare and eavesdrop at the sound of Eddie yelling. Fucking perfect.

Richie blinked back at the boy across from him, now red in the face for a different reason, “Calm down, I’m just trying to get to know you.”

“Fat fucking chance.”

Okay, wow. Richie had more work cut out for him than expected. He thought of what to say next as he watched Eddie finish his grapes.

“This isn’t, like, a joke,” (it wasn’t real either), “I just wanna hang out.”

“Hang out?” Eddie’s chocolate brown eyes met Richie’s, his tone mocking.

Richie nodded, “Yeah, ya know, kick it with the homies. Make out a little if you’re down. Friend stuff.”

Eddie’s jaw clenched, “You’re unbelievable. Just fucking unbe— you know, how can you even say any of that shit? How can we be ‘homies’ if we’ve never ‘hung out’ before? And don’t want to-- I’m not-- you don’t know me!”

There was something underlying in Eddie’s voice as he snapped, wavering at the end. Richie, like most things in life, was completely and utterly fucking up.

“Well then, how about we fix that?” Richie leaned forward, “I was wondering if maybe you’d wanna—“

Abruptly, Eddie stood up, grabbing his food and walked off, making his way towards the cafeteria line where Bill and Stan were paying for their lunch.

Richie looked around at all the watching faces, some snickering and others as shocked as he was.

“...Embarrass me horribly in front of all these people.”

He took a deep breath, and shoved some spaghetti in his mouth, his frown growing larger at the disgusting taste. Richie was often considered a wild card, but this was when routine was a good thing. He should’ve just avoided this and sparked up with Bev and Mike.

Actually, he was going to do just that. There was still some left in lunch, and no reason for him to stay in the cafeteria if Eddie was giving him the cold shoulder. More like a giant fucking iceberg but still, pointless. Besides, he really needed to get high now. Eddie ruined his whole mood and pissed him the fuck off.

Richie got up and tossed out the inedible garbage before going to the usual spot, finger itching for a joint.

He used his foot to push open the door, which would’ve been cool, except with his clumsiness and horrible luck he tripped forward, narrowly avoiding falling down the steps and face planting by grabbing the railing.

As Richie caught his breath and stabilized himself, he could hear his friends laughing.

“Back so soon?” Bev smirked knowingly, taking a drag.

Richie huffed, “Ha ha. Let’s yuck it up for my misfortune,” he grabbed her joint and took a long hit, “This fucking kid, Bev. I don’t think I can do this!”

“As in, you’re morally incapable of leading him on?” Mike asked hopefully.

“Please, let’s be realistic here Mikey. No, that kid is like, the fuckin devil incarnate. Shithead is fucking crazy!” Richie paced, smoking from the joint.

Bev laughed, “What makes you say that?”

“Why don’t ya ask the whole fucking school?” Richie snapped, though the anger wasn’t directed at her, “They were watching it all go down. If that wheezy asshole ruins my reputation—“

“What reputation?” Mike interjected.

Richie rolled his eyes and flipped him off.

Another voice spoke up, “I dunno, Richie’s pretty well known. I like him well enough.”

Richie whirled around, just noticing a new face among the usual group, Ben Hanscom.

The eternal new kid, since no one ever moved to ass backwards Derry, was not someone he’d expect to be behind the art building. Maybe reciting poetry or some shit, but not blazing. Ben was sweet and genuine, albeit a little shy. He was no longer the chubby kid he once was, more stocky and muscular now. They weren’t too close, as the tawny haired boy spent more time with Mike and Bev, and if not them, the other dorks (like Eddie and his friends). But either way, dude was pretty chill. Richie just didn’t really want him there mid-meltdown.

“Haystack?! You smoke?!” he whistled, “Ho-ly shit, who woulda thought!”

Ben shook his head, “Uh, no I don’t. Mike and I just had to study for history next block.”

His deep brown eyes flitted to Beverly, who had now stolen back her joint and was playing with the key that hung from her neck. Yeah, studying was the only reason. Not Ben’s excruciatingly obvious crush on the red head.

“We would’ve just gone to the library, but Bev and I made a bet about if you’d be successful or not today,” Mike said.

Richie gasped, “Betting on my failure? Fuck you guys, Benny Boy is my new best friend.”

“I didn’t sign up for that.”

“Hey, I bet on you succeeding,” Mike put his hands up in surrender, “She’s the one who thought you’d screw it up.”

“And I was right. Pay up,” Bev smiled, holding out her palm.

Mike dropped a candy bar in it with a deep sigh. She tore open the wrapping, taking a savage bite of the chocolatey sweet.

“I think you have a gambling problem,” Mike quipped.

Bev shrugged, “Not a problem if I keep winning.”

She grinned, her teeth covered in chocolate and spit. Gross. Ben still looked enraptured. Double gross.

“Anyways, can we focus on the important bet, and the fact that this fuck is impossible! Seriously, Bev, babygirl, pick anyone else!” Richie whined, plopping his bony ass on the cement.

“First off, don’t call me ‘babygirl’,” she flicked the ash off the end of the joint at him, “Second, the deal was anyone. You either woo him or you don’t.”

Richie opened his mouth to complain again but Ben beat him to it.

“I’m sorry, but what are we talking about?”

The other three looked at each other in panic. Ben was friends with Eddie, there was no way he could find out what was going on. The whole thing would be ruined before it started.

“Nothin!” Richie squeaked, “Just uh… bet that I couldn’t ace a group project. I usually just bullshit a lot of that stuff and leave it up to the others if I can. Partner’s just a little… high strung.”

Bev groaned and Mike sighed. A horrible fucking lie. Richie was already trying to formulate a better one in his head.

Ben smiled, “That’s nice, a wholesome, supportive bet. But you really should just communicate with your partner. They might be nervous because of your history is all.”

Richie let out a sound of relief before realizing Ben’s advice could actually be helpful.

“Sure, but I already tried to talk to him and it didn’t go well,” he explained.

Bev and Mike raised their brows, catching on.

“Well, how did you talk to him?” Ben asked, “Was it an ambush or a friendly conversation?

Bev snorted, “Ambush, knowing Richie. He doesn’t do friendly conversations.”

“Maybe with you, because you’re on my ass all the time,” Richie shot back, “But uh, she’s right. Shouldn’t matter though, everyone knows that’s how Tough Guy Tozier does his business.”

Mike groaned, “Please don’t call yourself that ever again.”

“You’re just coming on too strong. You have to consider what he likes, what he wants. A good partnership comes with compromise and communication,” Ben nodded sagely.

Richie ruffled his hair, putting on his trusty British voice, “Thank you Advisor Hanscom. Your wisdom is greatly appreciated.”

Ben smiled awkwardly, his eyes going to Bev once again, “Course.”

He took the joint from Bev, inhaling the musty smoke and blowing it out his nostrils, the burning sensation familiar and welcome.

“And maybe, you should talk to him sober next time,” Mike suggested.

Richie laughed, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

By the time the final bell rang, he was still feeling defeated and unsure of his next move. Sure, he’d have to dial back his trashmouth charm, try to seem actually invested in Eddie but… that wasn’t going to happen if the brat never talked to him again. Richie had to find a way to break the tension between them, start fresh.

He sulked to his locker, pulling out his shit from the looming mess. Loose binder paper and pencils fell onto the ground, and Richie just wanted to bang his head against the wall of metal. Also, go home and smoke while playing video games but, mostly, hit his head repeatedly. Maybe he’d lose enough brain cells to forget the entire day.

After a few moments of excessive cursing, Richie grabbed what he needed and got everything that fell back into the locker. He noticed a new post it on the door just before he closed it.

Don’t give up :) <3 - mike

Richie smiled, and slammed the locker shut with a resounding clang. With a little stretch and a fix of his glasses, he strolled through the halls, making his way to the parking lot to wait for Mike.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bill and Stan loitering around the halls as well, engaged in (an undoubtedly boring) conversation.

He remembered Bill and Eddie’s facebook status’ about exciting plans for tomorrow night and decided he should investigate.

“Billiam! Staniel!” Richie called as he approached them, “What’s up?”

The two stopped talking and looked up, Bill smiling while Stan rolled his eyes.

“H-hey, Richie,” Bill waved.  Richie noted that his stutter had gotten a lot better just over the past year. The two of them had shared a few classes when they were juniors and were pretty friendly with one another. At least compared to his relationship with Eddie and Stan, who also seemed to hate him for no reason.

Speaking of, the prim and proper boy was glaring at him, “Didn’t get enough of being a nuisance at lunch?”

Richie raised a brow, “Whatever do you mean?”

Stan scoffed, and opened his mouth to respond, but Bill put a hand on his shoulder, “N-nothing. Stan’s just… on edge. What’s up w-with you?”

“Not much, just trying to figure out what my plans are for tomorrow,” Richie shrugged, “Got any suggestions?”

“The only thing on your mind is where to party? Not surprised,” Stan quipped.

Richie shoved his hands in his pockets, biting his tongue. Snapping at Eddie was what caused his whole operation to go south, and he couldn’t mess up this second chance.

Bill ignored the tension between them, “Well, usually w-we don’t do t-t-too m-much, but it’s s-senior year. Probably going to Peter Gordon's party.”

“That kid’s an ass.”

“Coming from you, that’s rich,” Stan commented, his arms crossed.

His grinned, “Well, yeah, I am Rich.”

Stan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, he is, but he’s also s-super wealthy,” Bill avoided another ‘rich’ pun, “Meaning he’ll h-h-ave q-q-quality shit.”

Richie beamed, “Ah, I get it. You’re Robin Hood-ing that fuck. I like your style Billy Boy.”

He clapped Bill on the shoulder, and the other boy blushed slightly, “W-well, it wasn’t j-just my idea. Eddie and Stan helped.”

“Eddie? He’s coming with you guys?”

Bill shook his head, “N-no. He was supposed to, b-b-but that art thing came up so he h-had to cancel.”

“Art thing?” Richie asked, suddenly intrigued. This was the information he wanted.

“Yeah,” Bill nodded, “It’s this show that happens every month. At Jester Theatre. He always goes.”

Stan not so subtly elbowed Bill in the ribs, hissing at him to shut up.

“W-what?!”

“Yeah, what’s got your steamed panties in a twist Uris?” Richie smirked.

Stan sent him a scowl, “You know very well Tozier. Eddie told us all about what you did at lunch. Back the fuck off.”

“S-stan, I don’t think he meant--”

“No, Bill, he did,” Stan interrupted, “I don’t know what your game is, but if you hurt him…”

Richie put his hands up in surrender, “Hey, I’m not going to hurt him. He seems pretty strong anyways. I mean no harm.”

Stan didn’t look convinced at all. Fair enough.

The air between the two was tense, but Bill broke it by clearing his throat, “So, uh, will w-we see you at the p-p-party?”

Richie shook his head ‘no’, “Probably not. I have some more sophisticated plans lined up.”

a/n: hope you liked it! next chapter is p much all richie and eddie so get excited. if you enjoyed i would love hearing your feedback

oh and this is eddie’s gay hat if you were curious

[tenroseforeverandever]

Dear Father Christmas… Chapter 23: December 24, 2038

MASTERPOST

Characters:  Tentoo; Rose Tyler; Jackie Tyler; Pete Tyler; Tony Tyler; OC Hope Tyler-Noble; OC Charlotte Tyler-Noble; OC Wilfred Tyler-Noble; OC Therin Thomson; Javic Thane; Gray Thane; OC Tianza; the TARDIS; OC Abby Tyler-Milne;

Rated: Teen

Tags: Family!Fic; Kid!Fic; Pete’s World; Letters to Santa; Christmas Fic; Family; Fluff; Hurt/Comfort; Angst; Romance; Love; gun violence; violence resulting in death; life-threatening injury; life threatening situations; life threatening illness; original characters

Summary: When Rose Tyler was little, she always wrote a Christmas wish list to Father Christmas. As she grew older, the wish list became more of a letter to someone she could confide in once a year, but she fell out of the habit somewhere along the way. Now, as a new mum, celebrating her daughter’s first Christmas, Rose takes up writing her Christmas letter to Father Christmas once again.

Rose’s Christmas letters are excerpts from her life with her beloved Tentoo and their children in Pete’s World, written once a year, for each of 31 years.

Chapter Summary: Jackie decides to make Ugly Christmas Jumpers for everyone in the family.

Notes: Wow! Another chapter that got away from me! LOL And boy, did this one put up a fight.

To my betas, @rose–nebula and mrsbertucci: once again, this chapter would not be what it is without you. You gave me inspiration (which I still feel guilty about!) and we had many, many discussions about lots of things to get me through this, including a particularly hilarious discussion about aliens (I’m dying laughing just thinking about it now… I don’t know why I find it so funny, I just do!) Just thank-you, both, for always being there when I need you, and putting up with my whinging. I love you both!

Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. The prompt I used today was Santa and/or Elves.

I know it’s the middle of April, but since the weather outside (here in Ontario) is still frightful, I don’t feel too guilty about posting part of my Christmas story. I have eight more chapters to go for the full 31 Days of Ficmas. I’m not sure if I will post any more through the year, or just write them and post them at Christmastime in December. I’ll see how it goes… ;D

Also read at: AO3; FF.net; Teaspoon

December 24th, 2038

Dear Father Christmas,

My mum never does anything by halves. When Jackie Tyler sets her mind on something, she doesn’t hold back. She gets stuck right in; she takes the bull by the horns and beats it into submission. God help anyone or anything standing in her way. Just ask the Doctor…

(On second thought, best not. He might not take it too well, especially not after… well, you’ll see.)

Anyroad, ever since we welcomed my little niece, Abby, into our lives last autumn, Mum’s been on a knitting rampage. She taught herself. She started out with little things like baby mitts and booties, but quickly progressed to sweet little cardigans and jumpers. And she’s gotten really good! My very favourite one was an adorable navy-blue jumper with the words “I LOVE MY DADDIES!” emblazoned across the front in big, pink letters. Tony and Noah (the proud Daddies in question) loved it too, and dressed little Abby in it all the time, until summer came along, and they were forced to admit it was too hot for her to wear it anymore!

This year, sometime around August, Mum’s knitting took a rather… erm… dangerous turn. Stand aside, Molly Weasley: Jackie Tyler announced she was intending to knit jumpers for all of the Tyler clan, and their significant others, this Christmas.

And not just any jumpers: Ugly Christmas Jumpers. 

She only told me and Dad, not wanting to spoil the “surprise” for everyone else. Honestly, we just had to grit our teeth and tell her what a “great idea” it was. It wasn’t like it would’ve made any difference if we’d told her how we really felt. Besides, this way we were likely avoiding the pain of a good hard smack, and months of her patented Jackie Tyler silent-not-silent treatment.

Anyway, it wasn’t like she’d told us about it because she was actually seeking our approval. No, we were to be models, though I rather think guinea-pigs would be a more apt description. Honestly, as Christmas approached, I was seriously beginning to think it would have been better to shut the entire Ugly Jumper Project down in its early stages and endure whatever punishment Mum might have dished out, but at that point, we were in too deep to turn back.

The worst part of the whole process was Mum constantly calling me throughout the autumn to come over to the mansion to try something on, or to bring over jumpers the kids had left behind when they came to visit, so she could compare the sizing with what she was knitting. To be honest it got to be a bit tedious very quickly, but I could hardly say no to her when she was throwing her heart into it. Besides, this way I was able to keep an eye out and nix any design I thought wouldn’t go down very well with the intended recipient.

But, the jumpers were, for the most part, not too bad. They were beautifully designed and made. I was honestly quite impressed. Most of them either featured a cute character like a snowman or penguin or something like that, or they were the traditional Fair Isle design, with rows of little repeating Christmas characters and symbols in garish colours. Regardless of the pattern, all of them had some sort of saying on them, like Joy to the World, ‘Tis the Season, or Let It Snow.

“Soooo, which one is mine,” I asked.

“Never you mind, little madam. For your information, I ‘aven’ started it yet. And even if I ‘ad… as if I would spoil the surprise.”

I suddenly had a horrible thought. Cold dread washed over me. “Erm… what about the Doctor’s…?” Ever since he had revamped her dishwasher to sing Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer seven or eight Christmases ago, Mum had been out for revenge. Not that she would admit it. From the look she gave me, you’d think butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but I knew better.

“Oh, I’m tryin’ to come up with jus’ the right pattern for ‘im. I’ve a couple in mind.”

“Muuuuum, don’t do anything rash, yeah?”

“Oh, honestly Rose, don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud. I’m jus’ tryin’ to create a little Christmas cheer.”

“Oi! I’m the one stuck in the middle of you and the Doctor and your flippin’ Christmas cheer. Me and Dad!”

She ignored me, of course, and did a complete about-face on the topic. “Oh, speakin’ of your Dad… I got his jumper finished. What d’ya think?” She held up a dark green jumper, with a comical Santa body on it. The pattern stopped at the collar, so Dad’s head would be taking the place of Santa’s head (your head, Santa!) The words Ho Ho Ho were knitted in bold yellow letters below Santa’s feet. “I’ll get ‘im to wear a Father Christmas ‘at and all!”

I had to laugh. “Good luck with that!”

“’E’ll do it if ‘e knows w’at’s good for ‘im!”

“That’ll make for more of your Christmas cheer, then…”

“Oh, don’t ya worry; I’ll make it worth ‘is while.”  She winked at me. “There’ll be plenty of Christmas cheer and bells a jinglin’ around ‘ere.”

“Mum! TMI!”

“Since when ‘ave you been such a prude? I mean, jus’ look at the way you and ‘imself carry on.”

“Yeah, but there are certain things I really, really do not need to know. And that, right there: that tops the list! Look, I gotta run. Dad’s asked me to give a presentation this afternoon.”

“Oh, well, I suppose… Oh, Rose, wait a mo’. I meant to ask: Charlie, is she seein’ someone regular these days? Will she be bringin’ a date for Christmas Eve? I’ll need to make ‘im or ‘er a jumper too, yeah, whoever they are.”

“I dunno, Mum. I never know with that one these days. I worry… a lot.”

“She’ll be all right, sweetheart. It’s jus’ a phase. ‘Sides, she’s nearly twenty years old. I don’t need to remind ya w’at you were up to at ‘er age… gallivantin’ around with that bleedin’ alien. Not that you cared a fig about my worries!”

“Mum…”

“She’s jus’ like you in so many ways, so bloody-minded.”

“That isn’t helping, Mum! I jus’ hope you’re right… about it being a phase. Anyway, I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything definite about her bringing a date.”

“An’ in the meantime, I’ll knit an extra generic sort of jumper, jus’ in case.” Mum must have noticed I was about to protest, because she cut me off before I’d even had a chance to open my mouth. “Nah, don’t worry; Lor’ knows, it’s no trouble. After all, Therin might still decide to bring someone, too, and I’ll need one for ‘er. Best to be prepared.”

“All right. Suit yourself. See ya soon. Love ya.” I kissed her on the cheek and headed out the door, the problem of Charlie weighing heavily on my mind.

--ooOoo--

That night as I was standing at the stove making supper, the Doctor came up and wrapped his arms around me from behind. He gave me a lovely kiss behind the ear. It was just what I’d needed. I’d been wound up all day.

“Penny for ‘em? You’ve been doing (might I say) a piss poor job of shielding your emotions.”

“That obvious, was it?”

“Yup.” He squeezed me tighter and gave me another tender little kiss. Even without our telepathic bond, I expect he would have figured out something was wrong. And I really had been sloppy about keeping my worry contained. To be honest, I’d been hoping he’d notice. “You could have just told me if something was bothering you.”

I leaned my head back against his shoulder, giving the sauce another stir. “I know. You’ve just been so stressed lately.”

The Doctor had been called in to help with seventeen frightened and violent Trumhurgi whose ship had crashed in Torquay. They were badly injured, and the Doctor was the only one who had any decent knowledge about their unusual physiology. It had been two months of providing medical care for them, sometimes round-the-clock for several days running. He’d been training Torchwood physicians and nurses as well, but it all took time. In addition, he’d been consulting about repairs on the Trumhurgi ship, and travelling back and forth in the TARDIS, obtaining spare parts and contacting worried family members, carrying their messages and even bringing them back to Earth to visit their recuperating relatives.

I’d been working on the case too, but I was helping out the traumatized humans who’d been caught up in the original crash and the violent, defensive outburst that had followed. Shots had been fired and, by some stroke of luck, there had been no deaths, but it had been a close call. Fortunately, I had a huge, experienced team at my command, so my end of the job had been a lot easier than the Doctor’s.

“I’m all right, love,” the Doctor assured me, as we dished up our supper and sat down at the table. It was the first time in weeks we’d actually been able to eat together. “Besides, by end of this week the last of the Trumhurgi go home in their very own, working-better-than-ever ship! Let’s have tonight be about us.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Now spill. What’s got you so upset?”

“It’s Charlie. I’m worried. I didn’t tell you about it because… well, the Trumhurgi… but Javic dropped by shortly after all that happened… with news.” The Doctor’s eyes darkened, and his lips tightened reflexively, but he waited for me to continue. “It seems Charlie has been taking a page out of Javic’s book, recently. She’s been, erm… let’s just say ‘embracing her sexuality’… a lot!”

“And he knows this how?”

“Well he ran into her at one of his favourite… spots.”

I sensed the Doctor’s anger flare, white hot. “He didn’t touch−”

“God, no! In fact, he’s sort of taken her under his wing, so to speak. Made sure she’s stayed away from all the dangerous places.”

The Doctor growled. He looked like he was fighting really hard to keep his emotions in check. His eyes flashed at me. It had been a long time since I’d been a target for the Oncoming Storm. It was properly frightening (and more than a bit thrilling!) “And you… you never thought to tell me? This? About our daughter?”

“You were so busy. And it’s not like−”

He launched himself out of his chair with a roar. “You kept this from me?”

Reflexively, I shrank back into my seat, like some timid little creature. “I’m sorry.”

He began to pace, tugging at his hair. Each time he passed me, he opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out. His mental shields were locked in place and impenetrable.

After five long minutes, I decided enough was enough. It wasn’t my habit to let him intimidate me and I wasn’t about to chicken out now; history told me, it was far better to confront him, not let him get away with his bullying behaviour. “Doctor, stop! Enough. Sit down so we can talk.”

“Oh, so now you want to talk to me!”

“That’s was the point of having this conversation, yeah? Sit!”

He did as I asked, shoving his plate away from him, across the table. I grabbed onto his hand before he could move it, pouring my love through our bond. I was gratified when his shields began to give; it was only a little, but it was a beginning.

“Any other information you want to impart?” he bit out.

“Well… apparently she has one of Wilfred’s Vortex Manipulators, so… erm… she’s dancing through time and space.”

“Bloody hell!” He moved to stand again, but I held firm to his hand. He glared daggers at me. “Let go! We have to−”

“Have to what, Doctor? What do you propose we do? You’re not going to go storming in there like the Great Exterminator!”

“Try me!”

“This is Charlie… intimidation has never worked on that kid, and it’s not about to this time, either. We need to be rational and calm and supportive.”

“Supportive! But she’s−”

“I know. And Javic has been keeping an eye on her. He’s making sure she checks in with him, and he assures me she’s doing… fine.”

“Somehow, I don’t imagine Javic’s definition of ‘fine’ is quite the same as ours.”

I had to admit (but only to myself) I’d been thinking much the same way, though I knew Javic: he’d go to the ends of creation to protect any of us. “Hope’s been keeping in touch with her too,” I offered, hoping to appease the Doctor.

“Well that, that is a bloody recipe for disaster!” His anger flared.

Again, I had to agree with him, Santa. For all that she means well, Hope tends to get a bit bossy with her younger siblings. She’s mellowed over the years, but still… My arguments were crumbling around me. “You’re right. Let’s go!”

“What?”

“Let’s go… TARDIS. You. Me. Chat with our daughter.”

“But I thought you said...?”

“Changed my mind.”

--ooOoo--

Charlie, it turns out, was not thrilled to see us. I hadn’t been expecting a joyous family reunion or anything, but I think it would have gone a lot better if the Doctor hadn’t barged up to the bar where she was cheerfully chatting up some green-skinned bloke, waving his psychic paper around like some crazed maniac and bellowing to said bloke that Charlie was under-aged (an outright lie… on that planet) and if he didn’t want to find himself in a whole heap of trouble he’d better scram. He’d then grabbed Charlie by the arm and hauled her out of the building and into the TARDIS.

To say Charlie was furious was the understatement of the year! She was ranting on about how it was bad enough her “puritanical” sister was on her case, but the fact that we were now interfering in her life as well incensed her to no end.  She only finally calmed after I ordered the Doctor out of the TARDIS. I would deal with him later.

In the end, there was very little I could actually do other than let Charlie know we’d both be there for her if she ever needed us. She assured me she was fine: having fun; being careful; and not doing anything too wild (and “bloody hell, Mum, I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation with you… it’s just wrong…”.) I tried to understand, but I just couldn’t put myself in that mindset, and I told her as much.

“It’s just such a relief to be able to have fun and feel good without any obligations. I have so many obligations, Mum. School, Hand in Hand, work... This makes me feel, well free.”

Oh, Santa, it was then I realized how much that little girl (young woman) had taken on in her young life.

She must have seen the look of horror on my face. She grabbed my hand, and our familial bond snapped into place. She read me like an open book. “Mum, don’t you dare feel guilty. You never, ever pressured me, any of us, to do anything we didn’t want. You encouraged us in the best way possible, you… and Dad.” She chuckled and rolled her eyes at the mention of her father.  “This is just my way of letting go a bit, taking time for me. Can you understand that?”

“Course I can, love. I worry, that’s all. Promise me you’ll keep in touch, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“And listen to Javic.”

“Muuuuum! I know!”

“Now, since we spoiled your evening with that young man, how about we take you out to supper, yeah?”

“That sounds great! And don’t worry too much about my evening. He was a bit of a tosser, anyway. I was just about to walk out when Dad came barging in like some daft Onidsessi on pep pills. Urrrgh,” she groaned, “promise you’ll never let Dad near pep pills. Can you imagine…?”

“Oh, god, your Dad… he’s out there… Not on pep pills, but you know as well as me, he’s quite capable of stirring up all kinds of trouble without them if he gets a bit bored.”

Thankfully the Doctor hadn’t been stirring up trouble. We found him, pacing back and forth in front of the TARDIS doors. Charlie skipped right over to him, stopping him in his tracks and planting a kiss on his cheek. I couldn’t help but smile. We might all drive one another completely mental sometimes, but there was no lack of love in our little family, and this incident had assured me our children always knew we would be a safe haven for them whenever they needed it.

With all our emotions running high, I never remembered to ask Charlie if she was bringing home a friend at Christmas, so Mum could plan an appropriate jumper. At this point, though, I didn’t imagine there would be anyone special, given that she seemed to be determined to stay away from serious relationships for the time being.

I couldn’t have been more wrong…

Santa, I need to run. We’re all at Mum’s tonight, and the jumpers have finally been unveiled. There were a few… complications. And I’m running interference! I’ll try to explain later.

Blimey! There goes the Doctor, now, and he looks far too happy for anyone’s good, especially considering…  Look, Santa, I gotta go! I’ll finish this letter up later.

--ooOoo--

Santa, I’m back, but I’m not sure where the hell I’m going to begin. A lot of stuff went down tonight. A lot of stuff.

Mum was just itching to hand out her Ugly Jumper parcels to everyone; I couldn’t get her to sit still, she was so excited. We were still waiting for Charlie to arrive and for Tony, Noah, and Abby, too. The Doctor had gone to collect Charlie in the TARDIS. Mum was bouncing off the walls.

Thank goodness my brother and his family decided to show up just after the Doctor left. Entertaining Abby was keeping Mum rather brilliantly distracted, and it meant I didn’t need to entertain Mum. As it turned out, it was just as well Mum was preoccupied, because it gave her time to ease into meeting Charlie’s plus-one which turned out to be a bit of a shock for her, just not for the immediately obvious reason…

The lovely, familiar sound of the TARDIS filled the room about fifteen minutes after Tony arrived. She landed in her customary corner of Mum’s living room, wearing her traditional Blue Box disguise, but topped with festive snow and icicles, and a colourful wreath on her door. The door opened, and the Doctor stepped out, meeting my gaze with raised eyebrows and a little prickle of warning through our bond. He was being very guarded, not sharing any specific thoughts or images, and that made me distinctly uneasy.

Charlie followed him and was tugging behind her what could only be her date for the evening. The creature seemed to unfold itself from the TARDIS. It was very tall and rail thin. Charlie was holding onto one of its appendages, a hand of sorts, at the end of one of its four upper limbs, formed from an assortment of tentacle-like structures. “C’mon Hrau-Ard,” Charlie coaxed. “You’re gonna love my family! Hell, you and Dad are already like best mates!”

“Possibly a bit of an exaggeration seeing as we only met six minutes ago,” the Doctor countered, allowing Charlie and Hrau-Ard to step in front of him, “but he seems like a fine chap, I have to say.”

It took me a moment to get over my shock. Now, let me be clear, Santa, I have no trouble with interspecies relationships… I mean look at my darling husband, not exactly human for all he looks it. It’s just that Charlie, for all her sexual experimentation has never strayed far from standard humanoid partners before... at least according to Javic’s accounts. That’s why I needed to collect my thoughts before I moved forward to greet our new guest.

“Hello,” I smiled up into the creature’s majestic face. And majestic it was, by any standards… beautiful. Trust Charlie to pick a gorgeous date! A long muzzle, with an expressive mouth on the end, swooped up into a spectacular curved crest above it’s head. The crest had two main parts, a longer one below and a shorter part above. Its face morphed gradually from a rich teal colour at the muzzle to a deep indigo at the tips of the crests and was edged with many sensory tentacles and filaments. Two large purple eyes bulged above the snout, and several secondary eyes protruded from either side of the crests, set on stalks which were each adorned with several metallic rings. “I’m Rose Tyler, Charlie’s mum.” I held my hands out, spread open before me in the universal sign of peaceful greeting.

The creature bowed its head to me and dropping Charlie’s hand, held all four of it’s tentacle-tipped upper limbs out, mirroring me. Its fluting voice emanated from the crests. “Christmas greetings to you, Rose Tyler. My name is Hrau-Ard. It is lovely to meet you.”

“He’s male… mostly,” Charlie informed me, “so it’s okay to use ‘he’ and ‘him’.”

Hrau-Ard piped in, bowing his head to me again, “Those pronouns seem to be the most accurate.”

Before I could respond to Hrau-Ard, Charlie impatiently snagged the hand she’d been holding earlier and tugged him past me. “Well, come on in and meet the rest of the family!”

He hooted in surprise, his long tan-coloured tunic billowing and brushing me as he passed. It dropped halfway down his two legs and contrasted spectacularly with the blues and greens of his skin and had an opening in the back through which a pair of wing-like appendages extended. They were bright turquoise and filmy (too delicate to be proper wings) and vibrated as he moved.

I admit, I couldn’t suppress a chuckle at Mum’s incredulous expression as she met him. She passed Abby back to Noah, and looked Hrau-Ard up and down, offering him all the appropriate greetings. She had come a long way since her “bog-monster” days on the Estate and was extremely well-versed in alien diplomacy. After all, she’d welcomed plenty into her home over the years. But, despite all her training and experience, she was still my mum, and I nearly choked when she repeated his name back for clarification: “Howard? Your name is Howard?”

With a low whistle of approval and if the TARDIS was translating properly, amusement, Hrau-Ard inclined his head, his facial filaments bobbing with the movement. “I enjoy the way you say my name, Charlie’s Gran.”

“Oh, just call me Jackie, please. Howard! Of all the names!”

“Is this name of significance to you?”

Mum glanced nervously over to Pete, who was busy grilling Wilfred and Tianza about the medicinal properties of a Gallifreyan plant he was interested in using in a new Vitex drink.  “Oh, ‘e’s jus’ an old mate of mine.”

“Fine fellow! Liked fruit!” the Doctor enthused from the TARDIS door with a broad, toothy grin. “I borrowed his pyjamas and dressing gown once!”

“Well then,” Hrau-Ard bleeped, “I am honoured to be his namesake.”

“Oh, off the two of you go then.” Mum shooed Charlie and “Howard” off to meet Tony, Noah, and Abby. She fixed a glare at the Doctor, who had stepped up behind me. “See, there, Time Lump! A proper alien, tentacles and all! ‘E at least ‘as the decency to look the part.”

“So sorry to disappoint you with my lack of appendages, Jackie (after all, I live my life just to please you),” he snarked back at her. “Fortunately, as it turns out, there’s one Tyler who is rather fond of my one, rather impressive appendage, just the way it is.”

“All right, you two,” I cut off Mum before she had a chance to bite back, “it’s Christmastime, yeah? Peace on Earth. See, the halls are all decked,” I gestured around me, “merry and bright. Let’s try to enjoy ourselves.”

“Ooooh, I’d like to deck ‘is halls, all right…” Mum grumbled.

The Doctor leaned out around me to shoot another barb at Mum. “Is that your resting Grinch face, Jackie, or are you just happy to see me?”

Mum lunged at him, slapping-hand poised and ready. Fortunately for the Doctor, I was still in between the two of them. “Stop!”

“Cuddly as a cactus; charming as an eel… Mrs. Griii-inch” the Doctor sing-songed.

“STOP!” My shout silenced the room, everyone turning to stare at me.

“Oh, don’t mind them,” Charlie cooed at Hrau-Ard, “that’s sorta their normal behaviour.”

“Look what you two made me do,” I hissed at Mum and the Doctor. “Be civil! Honestly!” Fed up, I made to leave the two of them and go to the kitchen to pour myself a well-earned glass of wine, when Mum caught me by the sleeve.

“Blimey, Rose!” she whispered at me. “That Howard fella ‘as wings!”

“Yeah, well spotted! And tentacles!”

“No, no, no! The wings! ‘E’ll never fit into any of my jumpers! Never! And ‘e’s so bleedin’ skinny and all. (Blimey, ‘e makes the Doctor look like a sumo wrestler, ‘e does!) The jumper I made would be…”

“Mum, you don’t need to worry. He’ll understand, I’m sure.”

She burst into tears. “But I wanted everyone to ‘ave… and now ‘e’ll be without something from me… An’ it’s Christmas…”

The Doctor stepped up, concerned. He put a gentle hand on Mum’s shoulder. “What’s wrong? If it’s what I said, Jackie… you know I was just taking the mick.”

“No, no, no… nothin’ like that, ya plum.” She patted his cheek and gave him a watery smile. “I’m jus’ disappointed is all.” She excused herself and rushed off in the direction of the powder room.

“What was all that about?”

“Promise you won’t tell her I told you?”

“Oh, you know I can keep a secret, Rose! Besides, I know better than to cross Jackie Tyler by leaking sensitive information. C’mon, give.”

I explained to him about Mum’s dilemma, how she had knitted ugly Christmas jumpers for everyone (his face blanched, probably imagining what she might have created for him) and now because of Hrau-Ard’s unexpected physical attributes, none of the jumpers she had set aside would ever possibly fit.

“Well, I could help,” he suggested. “She’s probably not going to like it much, and I can’t say I’m much of a fan of it myself, but I have an idea that just might work… if she’s willing.”

--ooOoo--

Everyone was so busy with canapes and punch and cocktails they never noticed Mum and the Doctor bundling into the TARDIS and the TARDIS dematerializing. The TARDIS was proud to be showing off her new “Silent Mode”: there was only a little bit of a breeze to indicate she had ever been there. (My little darling.)

They had only been gone for about ten minutes before the TARDIS rematerialized and Mum burst through the doors, beaming and carrying a neatly wrapped parcel: Hrau-Ard’s gift. To my utter amazement, she turned back to stroke the TARDIS’ doorframe, planting a soft kiss on the blue wood. “Thank-you, sweetheart. You’re a wonder, you are.”

The TARDIS hummed in response, a wonderfully joyous sound, as Mum practically skipped over to the Christmas tree to tuck the present underneath.

The Doctor stepped up beside me, closing the TARDIS doors behind him. “They hit it off like a house on fire,” he told me, “the pair of them, thick as thieves. Turns out when your Mum was ill a few years ago, and I put her in stasis, the TARDIS kept her company in her mind; they became fast friends. Brilliant!” He grinned down at me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me against him as we followed Mum to the tree. Then he paused, and I glanced up at him to ask why we had stopped. The grin melted from his face. “Although… I don’t much like the idea of the two of them plotting against me behind my back.”

I just laughed and put my head on his shoulder. “Blimey… you’re getting a bit paranoid! How long were you gone in your timestream?”

“Five and a half days, Rose. Five and a half days… with Jackie Tyler on my TARDIS! That’s enough to make anyone paranoid!”

I admit, Santa, I shamelessly started to laugh harder. “How did you ever survive?”

“After the first day, I learned pretty quick to keep my head down. I made myself scarce.”

“Oh, you’ll be all right.” I nudged him with my elbow. “They won’t plot against you…” (…much, I added silently.)

“I heard that!” He arched an irritable eyebrow at me. “Do you realize she’s got her own room, Rose? No, not room, suite! The TARDIS gave her an entire suite of rooms with her own telly and a little galley too!”

“Awww, that’s lovely.” I was warmed through that the TARDIS had welcomed Mum so enthusiastically. My darling husband, however, was another matter. “Don’t worry, Doctor, I’ll protect you from any plotting. C’mon, we better hurry. I don’t think Mum will be able to contain herself much longer.”

Mum was gathering everyone together, so she could hand out her creations, and getting a bit shirty at people who weren’t paying attention, so I dragged the Doctor over by the hand and found a comfortable seat for us.

Content that everyone was present and listening to her, Mum spoke: “I’ve decided to start a new Tyler-family tradition: Ugly Christmas Jumpers! Made by yours truly.” She preened and there was a round of groans from the family and a perplexed hoot from Hrau-Ard. “Oi! They’re not really ugly… that’s jus’ w’at they’re called, yeah. See I’m wearin’ one.” She stood up to show off the jumper she was wearing. It was made of soft, silvery yarn and she had sewn tinsel across the front to form the words “Don’t get your tinsel in a twist,” in cursive script. Of course, she also had tinsel tied around her up-do. She looked sparkly and lovely. My Mum… She’s been through so much in her life, experienced so many odd things, and taken it all in stride; things that would make most people go completely loopy. I love her so much. I was positively chuffed to see her so happy, handing out brightly coloured parcels to all our family.

Dad was the first one to get his present, and he was a real sport about it, donning both his new Santa jumper and the Santa hat Mum had included in his parcel. Everyone burst out laughing when he stood up and smoothed his jumper down over his tummy, and said: “Do you think this makes me look fat? Ho-ho-ho!”

“Oh, sit down, you!” Mum admonished, but I could tell she was pleased as punch.

After that there was great excitement as we all opened our packages. Abby’s jumper was the cutest little thing, with an adorable gingerbread man wearing a Santa hat on a bright, red background. There were miniature gingerbread men down the sleeves and a few white strategically-placed snowflakes. I figure it’ll be a new favourite piece of clothing for her doting daddies!

Javic’s jumper featured a grumpy Santa reading his list of children’s names. The words “I’m at the top of Santa’s naughty list,” were emblazoned underneath. He was ecstatic, claiming it couldn’t have been more perfect. My jumper was… well, glorious in it’s tackiness! And I loved it! Oh, Santa, it was TARDIS blue, and a string of knitted fairy lights trailed all over it. In the middle, the fairy lights formed the words “Merry and Bright” and were lit up with little LEDs. Mum had outdone herself.

Hrau-Ard seemed uncertain what to do with his package, but Charlie soon sorted him out, helping him unwrap the gift. He held the jumper up in front of him, looking around at everyone else trying theirs on. He peered at the design on the front, all of his eyes trained on the bright patterns, and gave a long low hoot.

“Well, are ya goin’ to put it on, then?” Charlie prompted. “Here, I’ll help ya!” Together, the two of them made short work of slipping off Hrau-Ard’s tan tunic and replacing it with the jumper.

Hrau-Ard stood up out of his chair to show his jumper off. It was long, like the undertunic he wore, dropping to mid-thigh, and had perfectly aligned spaces for all four of his upper limbs and his wings.

“The TARDIS helped Jackie with the proper design and style, so it was compatible with his cultural expectations and with his body configuration,” the Doctor murmured in my ear. “She even provided all the yarn, if you can believe that!”

I took a closer look at the jumper. It featured an green-clad elf body on a scarlet background. Like Dad’s jumper, Hrau-Ard’s head took the place of the elf’s head. The words underneath said: “Take an ‘elfie with me!” It was hilarious! We were all in stitches, especially Hrau-Ard, who particularly appreciated the pun in the wording, and was honking with joy, and pulling out his mobile to take ‘elfies with everyone.

I couldn’t help but notice Therin was the only one not laughing. He wasn’t even smiling. He sat on the other side of the room glowering at Charlie and Hrau-Ard and their easy familiarity. Clearly, he hadn’t gotten over Charlie. He still loved her, despite her obvious disinterest in him… at least as a romantic partner. My heart absolutely ached for him as he quietly trudged out of the room, wearing his Fair Isle T-rex jumper.

“I should go check on him,” I whispered to the Doctor.  

“Nah, he needs to work this out for himself, love. He can’t change what’s in his heart. He just needs time to come to terms with it.”

“I hate to see him so miserable though… I wish I could−”

“Oi!” Mum’s shriek of disapproval cut through my thoughts. “Where’s your jumper, then, Doctor?”

The Doctor shifted nervously next to me, and I felt his crushing fear in my mind. He picked at the wrapping paper on the package in his lap.  

“C’mon then, ya big baby! Open it up! I made it special, jus’ for you.”

“That… that’s what worries me,” he muttered under his breath.

“Here, I’ll help you,” I offered. Honestly, Santa, Mum was right. He was being a big baby about it. Coward every time. “Best get it over with, like ripping a plaster off.”

“I don’t like plasters, and I don’t like the sound of your mum saying, ‘special just for you’. That, right there, Rose, sends my entire brain into mauve status!”

“C’mon, how bad can it be?” Even as I said the words, I glanced over at Mum who was watching the Doctor with a piercing, self-satisfied eye, and I braced myself. “Never mind. Just get it over with, yeah.”

By this time, we had the attention of the whole room, and the Doctor in a less-than-convincing act of enthusiasm, tore away the wrapping paper in one fell swoop. He reached into the shredded paper and pulled out the jumper, holding it up gingerly. Santa, I nearly fell out of my chair laughing. I swear the tears were pouring down my face, and the Doctor was scowling at me.

I better explain. The torso and most of the arms of the jumper were mostly brown. Around the cuffs of the arms, and at certain places over the shoulders were knitted green leaves. Some of them also trailed over the torso and back. When we lifted the arms of the jumper, we found dangling from their undersides none other than beautifully crafted, little knit pears! Pears, Santa, which as I’m sure you know are the fruit the Doctor despises most in the universe… for reasons that have never been very clear to me.

The crowning glory was the gigantic bird sewn firmly to the left shoulder: a partridge.

Mum had given the Doctor a Partridge in a Pear Tree-themed jumper!

Strangely, the bird was not knitted but a small-scale but realistic model, complete with feathers… and that gave me pause for thought, and trust me when I say the thoughts were not optimistic for the Doctor…

“Well, w’at are you waitin’ for?” Mum barked. “Put it on, then?”

“What? You expect me to wear this travesty… this… this pitiable excuse for clothing? Nope. Nope. Nope. Not happening.”

“Oh, just put it on, Dad!” Hope cajoled from across the room. “We’re all wearing them.”

“Yours don’t have pears and a great bloody bird attached, do they?”

“The jumpers are splendid!” Hrau-Ard spoke up with an earnest honk. “This is the most comfortable piece of clothing I have ever owned. And it is humorous too. Doctor, you really should try yours.”

Mum just about melted on the spot at Hrau-Ard’s compliment. “Oh, Howard! You’re such a love. But, you’re just sayin’ that!”

“No, I am sincere, Jackie. It is perfect. I think I like Christmas. And Ugly Christmas Jumpers!”

“Well then, sweetheart, I’ll make you another for next year, yeah?

Howard… I mean Hrau-Ard hooted happily in response, and Mum turned her attention back to the Doctor, by which I mean, she glared daggers at him.

“Oh, all right,” the Doctor conceded, “…if it means I don’t have to listen to any more of your harping,” he added under his breath. He stalked off to the downstairs loo, crushing the jumper in his clenched fist.

“I better go help him out…” I made my excuses and rushed off after him.

I heard Wilfred snickering to Hope, Gray, and Tianza, as I passed them. “Ten quid says they’re off for a snog… or worse.”

Hope just laughed. “No deal, little brother! That’s a sure thing.”

“Oi!” (I’m sorry, I had to protest!) “Enough out of you lot!”

“C’mon, Mum, face it,” Charlie interjected, “you two are an embarrassment.”

“Yeah,” Wilfred agreed, “I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve had to spring the two of you from prison for public indecency.”

“Oi, what’s this then?” Mum leaned in for more tidbits of information, and I cleared out of the room as fast as I could.

Exasperated, I knocked on the powder room door. “Doctor, it’s just me.”

He opened the door to let me in.

“Blimey, we’ll have to watch ourselves. That lot are making wagers on whether or not we shag in here, and they’re telling Mum all about our arrests…”

He groaned, sniffing in disdain. “Bloody brilliant! Christmas, an annual excuse for almost completely unfounded gossip and rumour.”

“Exactly!”

“And then there’s this…” He held up the jumper. “I don’t know why I have to put on this preposterous get-up?”

“Because as I recall, a few years back, you mucked about with Mum’s dishwasher. Now it’s payback time,” I reminded him. “C’mon then…” I helped him pull off the (sexy) red jumper he was currently wearing, and I couldn’t resist running my fingers through the sparse hair on his chest. “Tell you what, though: if you’re a good boy and put the jumper on, I will make it very much worth your while…”

“Oh, yes!”

I dropped to my knees in front of him.

“What? Right now?”

“I’ll make it quick… I know all your secrets.”

He growled at me, his eyes darkening. “I’ll be wanting another round later tonight, Tyler.”

“You think so, do ya?”

“Of course, I’ll be happy to return the favour. I’ll make you come so hard, your screams will be heard all the way to Gallifrey and back! Think you’re up for that?”

I gazed up at him with what I hoped was a seductive smile and stroked him where he was now straining against the front of his trousers. “You’re on! But the real question is, can you manage not to scream? We don’t really need that lot making any more wagers at our expense.”

--ooOoo--

Sorry Santa, got off on a bit of a tangent there… It happens sometimes, as you’re well aware.

So… where was I? Oh, yeah, so fifteen minutes later, we came out of the loo. With my help (holding the partridge), we managed to get the jumper over the Doctor’s head. He looked very, very, extremely not happy, despite my recent… erm… display of affection. “I feel ridiculous!” he gritted out to me.

“It’s just for a few hours, love.” I patted his arm and took his hand for moral support and made bloody sure to conceal my amusement from him.

As we returned to the living room, out the corner of my eye, I was pretty certain I saw some money changing hands, although, to his credit, the Doctor had kept very quiet and I had checked that my hair and make-up were in order. Maybe they were wagering on whether he’d be wearing the jumper… Who knows?

Anyway, I had to agree with the Doctor’s assessment: the jumper did look more than a bit silly, but everyone cheered and laughed at it.  They were having so much fun over it, and the Doctor ended up being a good sport, showing it off, spreading his arms and making silly faces about the “vile” pears dangling from them.

I admit, I kept to myself the fact that I thought there had to be more to it than just a jumper with pears and a big, daft bird. Mum had waited years to get her revenge. She wasn’t about to let him off with something so… simple. I could only wonder what she had planned and when it would happen.

As it turned out, I didn’t have to wonder very long.

It was only a few minutes later when Mum called us all over for supper. She, of course, had place-cards at every setting. The Doctor was sat between Hrau-Ard and Gray, somewhere in the middle of one long side of the table, and Mum and I were directly across from them. Charlie was on the other side of Hrau-Ard; Noah and Tony were sat on either side of Abby, who was in Tony’s old high chair at one end of the table; and Dad was at the other end. Everyone else was scattered randomly around.

As the first course was served, everyone began to chatter to one another. The Doctor seemed quite relaxed, but I couldn’t help noticing the way Mum’s eyes kept fixing on him as he made cheerful small talk to everyone around him. Her lips pursed reflexively every time he stopped talking. She tried a couple of times to get Dad to tell us about something that had happened at work, but he had insisted he didn’t want to talk shop. He was determined to take some time away from it.

“Fine,” Mum muttered under her breath, “just tryin’ to liven up the conversation. Honestly.”

“I thought we were having a lovely time,” I told her. “Everyone’s relaxed and chatting… well except Therin, but you know… What’s going on? You’re up to something. I know you. You never ask Dad about Torchwood.”

“Pfffft, don’t be daft! Course I ask ‘im. And jus’ w’at do you mean ‘up to somethin’’? W’at could I possibly be up to?” With that, she turned deliberately away from me and began speaking to Hope about the progress of the Lunar settlements and asking her how she was finding living on a base. “I don’ know if I could take it, yeah. No fresh air, being cooped up inside all the time. I think I’d lose my mind, yeah.”

The Doctor’s eyes brightened as he responded to her. I was relieved he didn’t end up spewing out something rude about her already having lost her mind years back, which honestly seemed like it would be the natural course of the conversation. Instead, he launched into one of his diatribes about the environmental systems on the bases and how they purify the air.

With a smirk, Mum sat back in her seat to listen.

“…and remarkably, the fundamental design never changes from base to base, year after year. It’ll be centuries before someone gets the bright idea that basic human needs aren’t quite being met by–″ He was cut off when the partridge on his shoulder swung around and flapped its tail across his face. He frowned, spun the bird back around, and began to speak again.

This time the bird nipped his ear.

“Fuck!” he shouted in pain, which of course was mimicked loudly by Abby at the other end of the table.

“You dolt!” Mum snapped. “Now, look what you’ve done!”

“Oi! It’s your blasted bird that bit me! Oi! It just did it again!”

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Giggles erupted from the little girl as her daddies tried to shush her, and everyone had a good laugh.

Except Mum (“Don’t be so stupid! It’s not a real bird, ya numpty!”); and the Doctor, who glowered at Mum but (remarkably) held his tongue.

“Mum,” I hissed at her, “it bit him. I saw it.”

“Bit him? Stuff and nonsense!”

The Doctor shook his head at me, and at his telepathic request, I decided not to pursue it any further.

Abby had calmed down again, her new word forgotten as quickly as it had come, and normal conversation resumed around the table as the main course was served. It wasn’t long before the Doctor had dived into a conversation about the most current medical breakthroughs with Gray and with Hrau-Ard, who was apparently training as a physician as well. They bantered back and forth for a short time and then the Doctor launched into a long discourse about the benefits of some sort of medical scanner or other. About a minute in, the bird wheeled around, slapping him in the face with its tail once more, and another few seconds after that, it bit him again.

“Right! Ow! Again, you bloody– Ow!” He dug into his trouser pockets for his sonic, threatening the bird with it. “Now, we’ll sort– Blimey! STOP! Ow!”

I glanced over at Mum who was chuckling away to herself, while everyone else was up, getting ready to help the Doctor. Oh, she knew exactly what was going on. And I had no doubt she had orchestrated it.

Hrau-Ard had stood up and was holding the bird still, his tentacled appendages wrapped around it securely. He was doing a great job keeping it from pecking at the Doctor’s ear, which seemed to happen every time he tried to talk.

Mum scoffed next to me. “Talks far too much, anyway, that one. Maybe this will teach ‘im to keep quiet and not monopolize the conversation.”

“So, this was you, then? How the hell did you...?”

“Oh, sweetheart, it only goes off when ‘e natters on for too long. It resets again after ‘e’s given our ears a bit of a break.”

“But…”

“Oh, I know a few of the folks down in Tech. They were quite ‘appy to do me a little favour, especially after ‘imself barged in there a month or so back and told ‘em they were sequencin’ somethin’-or-other all wrong.”

“He told me about that. It was all wrong!”

“Well, seems they didn’t like ‘is tone… all ‘igh and mighty and ‘I’m so clever’.”

I flopped back in my chair, and just shook my head. I returned my attention to the other side of the table where the Doctor had adjusted the settings on his sonic and was brandishing it at the animatronic bird.

“Oi,” Mum yelped, “don’t you damage my bird.”

“Priorities, Jackie! Your bloody bird is trying to damage me. Do you realize how hard I had to concentrate to get these ears… not to mention this hair?”

“It is really great hair,” I agreed.

“Oh, shush you!” Mum shot me a scathing look.

“Right then! Allons-y!” Heedless of my mum’s protests, the Doctor activated the screwdriver pointing it at his feathered attacker, and several things happened all at once.

The strangest screeching sound reverberated from Hrau-Ard’s crests in harmonics that mimicked the sonic. He lost his grip on the bird and doubled over, two of his appendages flying to his crests. “This tickles! This tickles! I think I am about to…”

The bird, freed from it’s confines, resumed its attack on the Doctor’s ear, feathers flying everywhere. The Doctor, fumbled his sonic screwdriver, caught it again, and made a quick adjustment to the frequency, constantly yammering and threatening the bird and Mum, not quite making the connection that if he just shut up, the stupid thing would stop pecking him. Finally finding an opening, he pressed the tip of the sonic to the bird’s breast, activating it with a triumphant “Ha!”

Hrau-Ard had resumed his composure once the sonic had stopped but started making that bizarre sound from his crests again once it was reactivated. His facial filaments were absolutely trembling. “It is happening again. I am going to… I am going to…″

The sound seemed to amplify the effects of the sonic. The hapless partridge stopped its attack, but its entire body began to pulse as the wailing hoots from Hrau-Ard’s crest intensified. Everyone was covering their ears, except the Doctor who had turned off the sonic, and was watching in horror, from the corner of his eye, the ominous pulsing of the bird on his left shoulder.

“I am going to–″ Hrau-Ard shouted, and his crests shrieked in a final eruption of noise, and the bird’s body suddenly exploded with a massive blast, sending feathers, sparks, and electronic gizmos everywhere.

“–sneeze,” Hrau-Ard hooted into the silence that had fallen over us all.

A long moment later, just as everyone was catching their collective breath, the Doctor yelped, as cinders from the explosion caught in his hair, causing it to smoulder and burn. “Ow, ow, ow! Blimey! My face! My hair!”

Abby started howling; everyone started shouting; I leaped across the top of the table to get to my poor husband; and Gray, the only one maintaining his composure, picked up a pitcher of ice water and dumped it over the Doctor’s head.

The Doctor sat there, completely stunned, as water dripped from his fringe into his face.

“Oh my God! Doctor!” I pulled his damp body against me, hugging him tight. “Are you all right?” I pulled back from the hug to look him in the face. I took in the angry red welts, the burned hair and…

He must have seen my astonishment. “What? What is it?”

“Your… your left eyebrow. It’s… it’s gone…”

“What? What?” His fingers flew to his brow, where the hair had been singed away. “WHAT?”

“And some of your hair… just up the left side…”

“Jackie Tyler!” he bellowed. He made to get up from his chair, but Gray shoved him back into it.

“Sit still! You have burns. I’ll need to use the dermal regenerator on them.”

“It won’t bring back my eyebrow, though, will it? My left eyebrow too. It’s my most expressive one,” he added wistfully.

Mum had come rushing around the table. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry! That wasn’t supposed to happen. I’ll cut your hair for ya, real nice. And your eyebrow will grow back again in no time, I expect.”

“Yeah, I suppose it will,” he said relaxing a bit. “And more expressive than ever! Makes you think, what would I ever do without eyebrows?” He shuddered at the thought. “And, Jackie, I have to admit, you couldn’t have known that the sonic would resonate with Hrau-Ard’s crests and make the bird explode like that. Though, I have to say, good riddance!”

“It is all my fault. I must apologize profusely,” Hrau-Ard hooted, his wings fluttering.

Mum protested, “Oh, no, Howard!”

“Nah, she’s right, Hrau-Ard,” the Doctor reassured him, “don’t be silly! But now I know not to use my sonic at that frequency in your presence.” He beamed. “Besides, what fun would Christmas be without a little bit of unexpected excitement?”

“At least there aren’t any blinkin’ killer Christmas trees, yeah?” Mum pointed out, as Gray finished up with the dermal regenerator.

“Oh yes! Too true. Looking on the bright side, Jackie. Do it while you can, because you know what…?” He bounded out of his chair, tore the remnants of the hapless partridge from his shoulder, and plucked the Santa hat from Dad’s head. He shoved it over his wet, scorched hair and with a wicked grin spreading over his face, he sang: “Jackie Tyler… you better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout. I’m telling you why: Santa Claus is coming to town.”

Oh, God, Santa, the look on Mum’s face. “Oh, you wouldn’t dare…”

“And Santa isn’t happy, Jackie. Really, you better watch out…” He skipped away out of the dining room, heading directly for the kitchen.

Mum took off after him. “You stay away from my appliances. You’re a bleedin’ hellion, you are,” she shouted.

Hrau-Ard honked in alarm and pulled Charlie next to him, wrapping his tentacles around her.

“Don’t worry, love,” Charlie sounded resigned, “you get used to it once you’ve been around this crowd long enough. We’re all a bit mental, but we all love one another.”

So, there it is, Santa. A typical Tyler-Noble Christmas!

I spent quite a while trying to intercept the Doctor before he did any damage to Mum’s kitchen... and other things. I actually found him mucking about in her en suite. Not sure if he managed to do anything before I caught up to him and got him back home, but at least I got to him before Mum did. Like I said before, he looks far too pleased with himself, despite the missing eyebrow and the singed hair. He must have left some sort of surprise behind for Mum. No doubt I’ll hear about it soon enough.

And right now, I’m just waiting for him to “return the favour” he promised me in Mum’s powder room earlier, something about making me scream so loud I’d be heard all the way to Gallifrey. He’s just spending an awful long time in the loo... probably trying out my eyebrow pencils, if I know him. Maybe later I’ll take the TARDIS out, go back a few days, and get him some of his own for his stocking before everyone gets up tomorrow morning.

Happy Christmas, Santa. Give my love to all. Sorry for going off on a bit of a tangent earlier. I was just lying here, waiting for the Doctor and thinking… Oh, I reckon you’re used to it by now, yeah. There’ve been a few tangents over the years and I haven’t had a lump of coal yet. But, just saying, if you feel the urge to leave a lump of coal in the Doctor’s and my mum’s stockings, by all means, go right ahead! I’m all for it!

                                                                                                                                 Love, Rose

[forged-through-trials]

The Imperial City was pretty quiet after that. With the guard-corruption squashed, and the grave-robbing halted, the city settled into something approaching peaceful. Which left nothing for me to really do besides hang out in my room at the Merchant’s Inn, and just drink the days away. Ruin insisted we get out from time to time. Yes, we did end up trying out the Tiber Septim Hotel for a dinner together. Ow, my poor coin-purse. Food was pretty tight, though.

Finally a whole week had passed. Seven days of me nearly going stir-crazy in my room, like I was on lock-down with the Peryite Flu. It was at last time to head back to the Arcane University to check on Boderi Farano and her progress. Boderi: “Some--” She teleported into the room, and stepped off the pad. “--BODY once asked “Me to translate books real fast “They had to get more evidence for their case “I said ‘yep, gimmie a week’ “’I’ll have all the answers that you seek’ “Now you can get back to the chase!” Trials: “...” Deadpan. “If you don’t stop singing, I will punch you.” Boderi: She frowned and reeled back a pace. “By Azura, you’re a grumpy one.” Ruin: “I assume you’ve made progress with the books we gave you?” Boderi: “Well, good news and bad news on that front. The bad news is that we can’t give them back to you. They contain forbidden knowledge comparable to necromancy and as such, we can’t let them out of the Arcane University. “The good news, however, is that we’ve copied an excerpt of the journal with all the important entries related to your case.” Ruin: “Was there anything in the other books related to our case?” Boderi: “Indeed there was. The Spell and Alchemy book contained various shamanic spells, most we’d already seen ogres use, but there were a few surprises to be had. “The other one was a gross cookbook, with recipes involving human meat and goblin brains.” Trials: “Eww.” Boderi: “All these books form the proof that the person you know as ‘Lord Baldor Varian’ is, in fact, an ogre who consumed the real Lord Varian’s flesh to take his form, and his brain to absorb his memories.” Trials: “Ugh, startin’ to wish I’d skipped breakfast, today.” Boderi: “Along with the journal entries, I’ve included an official letter bearing the seals of the Mages Guild and Arcane University to the authorities of Skingrad. It should be sufficient to have the guards arrest Lord Varian.” Trials: “Nice! Here’s hopin’ we don’t need two witnesses to the sun shining out of a dog’s arse to get the Skingrad City Guard to get their butts in gear.” Ruin: “You’re really not going to let that go, are you?” Trials: “It’s just so infuriatingly dumb!”

I took a look at the notes Boderi provided. They were exactly what Boderi described; excerpts from an ogre’s journal, and an official-sounding letter for the Skingrad City Watch. The journal described the slow progression of the ogre mage. How he’d discovered the recipe to steal memories from cooking and eating the brains of his victims, and similarly learned the recipe for stealing the form of a victim from consuming their flesh. A gross, grim tome, as the ogre mage progressed from experimenting on rats and imps, to goblins, and finally to people. It was when the mage started hitting people that he vastly increased his knowledge and ingenuity. After a few victims, he was able to perfect the recipes through experimentation, growing his intellect and increasing the duration of the effects. Eventually, he schemed to enter the “human city,” presumably Skingrad, to have a steady supply of human flesh. By luck, he happened to capture the real Baldor Varian, and proceeded to kill, cook, and eat him, obtaining his form and memories. He then proceeded to take Baldor’s place as a nobleman of Skingrad, and one by one, consume Baldor’s servants. Eventually, he had to travel to another province to finalized his arranged marriage with Lucy, and take her back to Skingrad. That’s where the abuse began, just as Lucy described, and it seemed that the ogre’s need to keep up appearances was the only thing that saved Lucy from being eaten. Shortly after getting her back to Skingrad, Lucy fell ill. This is likely where Baron von Zarov got involved. The fake Baldor called Doctor Helsong, again, trying to keep up appearances, but Lucy ‘died’ of her illness shortly there after. The fake Baldor then left the cave to his brother--I guess that was the ogre Ruin and I found in Grayrock Cave--and that was the end of the journal. With these in hand, it was time to return to Skingrad. While this isn’t quite bringing Baron von Zarov to justice, this is the next best thing. The Ogre-Varian needed to be stopped before he killed again.

It took a few hours, but we hiked it quickly from the Arcane University directly to Skingrad. Once there, I found the nearest guard, and presented them with the Arcane University’s writ. Trials: “I have proof that Lord Varian--” Private Janora: “Stop right there, criminal scum! I mean, citizen! If it concerns the nobility, this is way above my pay-grade. Captain Dion is the one you want to see about this.” Trials: “Why can’t you just take the writ to him? Do I look like a courier to you?” Private Janora: “Yes! I’ve seen you delivering packages around town.” Trials: Deadpan. “...well, very astute of you.” So our next stop was to seek out Captain Dion. We found him near the chapel. Trials: “Ho, Captain. Remember me?” Captain Dion: “Yes, I do; you riled up the town-eccentric into a murderous frenzy until I had to put him down.” Trials: I tugged at my collar awkwardly. “Ooph, yeah, those were crazy times... two months ago... “Anyway, today I come to you with proof that Lord Baldor Varian is an impostor!” I passed him the writ from the Arcane University, and he took a few moments to read it. Captain Dion: “These are serious charges. Your evidence is in order, but concerning a noble of Skingrad, I cannot act without approval of the Count. I’ll need you to go to the castle and seek his confirmation right away.” Trials: I rolled my eyes. “Oh for Hist’s Sake, am I just going to get bounced around all day? Next, I’ll go to see the Count and he’ll be like; ‘Oh, sorry, I can’t help you. Go run your tail back to the Imperial City and get word from the Emperor.’ “And then I do it, and the Emperor will say: ‘Sorry, can’t help you. Instead, I’m going to refer you to Talos.’ “And then I meet Tiber-gods-damned-Septim, and even he tells me; ‘I’ll help, but first, you gotta get permission from my friend, Todd’.” Captain Dion: “...who the hell is ‘Todd’?” Well, there was nothing else for it. Ruin and I schlepped it over to Skingrad Castle, and spoke with the steward, Mercator Hosidus. Hey, I wonder if he knows Mercator Saccus from A Fighting Chance in the Imperial City? Mercator Hosidus: “The Count will not see you now. Not now, not ever. He sees no one. I’m Mercator Hosidus, his steward. I believe that’s all you need to know.” Trials: “...” I rolled my eyes. “Tell him a ‘No Soliciting’ sign would be both cheaper, and just as effective. “Anyway, we have evidence that Lord Baldor Varian is an impostor. So tell the Count to get his shoes on and get down here to see it.” Mercator Hosidus: “These are serious charges. May I see your evidence?” Trials: I presented him with the Arcane University’s writ. “Right here! Signed and sealed by the Council of Mages.” Mercator Hosidus: He examined the writ, and gave a solemn nod. “Ah, excellent work. Accusing a Lord of Skingrad without any backup evidence would have led you nowhere. Thanks for taking the precautions of making this all official. The Count will be pleased that you handled this like you did.” Trials: Deadpan. “...gee, thanks. How fortunate for me that I did ninety-percent of the work for you.” Mercator Hosidus: “Stow the sass, lizard. I’ll talk to the Count as soon as possible, and I expect there’ll be an arrest tomorrow morning. You’re welcome to watch it but you mustn’t intervene. This is a matter for the guards.” Trials: I shrugged and rolled my eyes. “Are you sure? Wouldn’t you rather I finish up that last ten percent for you?” Mercator Hosidus: He grit his teeth and sneered. “Look, I don’t need your cheek. I’m already busy ghost-writing the Count’s book where he teaches children to count bats. I’ve got to figure out a way to transliterate his ‘Ah. Ah. Ah. Ah.’ laugh by this afternoon!” Trials: “He’s writing a children’s book? Aww, that’s sweet of him. Does he need anyone to write the forward for it?” Mercator Hosidus: “Nah, it’s already presented by the letter ‘þ’.” Trials: Confused. “...the hell is that?? The bastard-child of a ‘b’ and ‘p’? Mercator Hosidus: “I think it looks like a pregnant ‘I’.”

Oh goodie, more waiting! Well, we had a few hours to kill before Hosidus had everything in order and we could arrest Varian, so I hit the shops. It was in “Hammer And Tongs” that I spoke with Agnete The Pickled. Agnete: “I’m PICKLED AGNETE!” Trials: “...” I burst into laughter, huffing and wheezing. “...by the gods, funny stuff!” Ruin: “...I don’t get it.” Trials: “But Ruin, she’s Agnete the Pickled! It’s the funniest name I’ve ever heard!” Ruin: “I still don’t get it.” Agnete: “Welcome to Hammer and Tongs. What can I do ya for?” Trials: “Browsing, mostly. Oh, also, before I forget, I’m representing a ‘Thalonias, late of Balmora,’ currently residing in Weye. He’s looking for someone to supply his shop, and I’d like to ask if you’d be willing to cut a deal?” Agnete: “This sounds like a very good deal -- I could expand all over Cyrodiil like this! I’d just need a little capital to cover the first shipment. Say, two-hundred and fifty Septims.” Trials: “Ow, that’s like a whole dinner at the Tiber Septim Hotel!” I groaned and slumped. “Fiiiiine! But only because you made me laugh with that ‘Pickled Agnete’ bit. I sure hope Thalonias appreciates the sacrifices I’m making for him.”

With that done, Ruin and I retired to the Fighters Guild to rest up for the following morning. We rose with the sun, and eagerly raced down the street to Baldor’s estate, spying a battle-mage accompanying two members of the Skingrad City Watch. The battle-mage approached Ruin and I, and spoke to us. Albeci Calleius: “So, you’re the one who gathered the evidence, is this right? Well, this is a job for the local city guards now, so you stay out of the way, alright?” Trials: “Sure I can’t just pop in and finish what I’d started? I’ve been on this case for a month.” Albeci Calleius: “Commendable, but I can’t allow that. Only city guards and legion soldiers are authorized to make arrests.” He directed his men to move in, and the two guards slipped into the manor. I could hear shouting from within the building, then crashing, as the obvious noises of struggle could be heard coming from within the manor. A guard exited after a moment, and spoke up to the battle-mage in command. Skingrad Guard: “Sir, he’s changed into an ogre, and he’s using magic! I don’t think we can handle this on our own.” Albeci Calleius: He gave a firm nod to his subordinate, then turned to Ruin and I. “It seems we have the final piece of evidence to back up your accusations. My men need assistance. I’d better go in so my magic can support them. Unless...” Trials: “...” I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Oh, here we go.” Albeci Calleius: “Do you still want to help?” Trials: I shrugged. “Last ten percent it is, then!” Albeci Calleius: “Alright, in you go! I had wanted to take this imposter alive, but it seems that is no longer an option.” Ruin: “We’ll try to leave him as intact as possible.” Trials: “Oooh, someone is confident today!”

We rushed into the manor, and spied “Baldor” on the second floor. He came rushing down the stairs at us, but I came prepared. I’d been carrying Poisons of Silence to deal with Vampire Mages, and thought this an opportune time to pour one out over Light of Dawn. That took care of his spell-casting, and from there, the ogre only had his fists to rely on against us. The last time I fought an ogre head on, I was pummeled to a pulp and barely survived, and all I had to show for that instance was a few broken ribs and a basket of bread! This time, I was stronger, faster, and smarter than before. I dodged those huge, meaty fists like a pro, and moved in, even as the Ogre leaped up, looking to axe-handle slam me from above. I pointed Light of Dawn up, and the ogre came down onto the blade, his own weight forcing the blade through his tough hide, impaling him on the sword. The ogre roared, flailing those huge limbs, as I quickly drew Light of Dawn out of his gut, and with a quick slash, took out his throat, finally putting an end to the false Balor once and for all. Once we’d dealt with the ogre, Ruin and I exited, and met with Albeci Calleius once more. Albeci Calleius: “I take it you were victorious, then? A pity we couldn’t arrest the ogre mage, but you did what you had to do.” Ruin: “Congratulations, Trials. You can finally close the book on this case.” Trials: I paused, contemplatively. “Well... almost... not quite...” Albeci Calleius: “Well, my part is done, here. The castle steward may offer you a reward for your part. You should come up there and see them when you’re able to.”

We retreated back over to Castle Skingrad, but the whole walk there, I had this nagging feeling in the back of my mind. Sure, we’d stop the Fake Baldor, but Baron von Zarov was still at large. Once we arrived back at Castle Skingrad, we were met by Steward Hosidus. Mercator Hosidus: “Word of your deeds have proceeded you. Congratulations! It is my great honor to give you this reward for all your efforts in this dramatic case.” He passed me a large purse of gold coins. “It is especially the way you handled the situation that you are to be commended for. You went to great lengths to gather evidence to prove the case, and stopped a monster from preying upon the people of Skingrad. For that, you have the gratitude of the whole city.” Trials: I sighed, unable to appreciate the gratitude. “Well, thank you, but... but this case isn’t quite ‘closed’ yet. There’s another wrinkle to iron out.” Mercator Hosidus: “Oh? And what ‘wrinkle’ is that?” Trials: “It’s about Baron von Zarov. I have reason to believe that is a vampire.” Mercator Hosidus: He gave pause for a moment, then broke into laughter. “Ah hah hah! That’s funny! Lord Varian is an ogre, and Baron von Zarov is a vampire? I guess the other lords are werewolves and the ladies are liches! Ah hah hah hah hah!” Trials: I grit my teeth, wilting under his mocking laughter. “But it’s true! I’ve been working this case for a month, ever since the body of Lucy Varian disappeared! He’s a vampire!” Mercator Hosidus: “This isn’t funny anymore, kiddo. I know you’ve done a service to the city, but I can’t just act on your word alone. Especially not after we were duped by the last ‘Vampire Hunter’ to come waltzing into town. You’ll need proof.” Trials: I flailed my arms in frustration. “Then let me get the proof you need. You know I can do it. I just need the key to Zarov’s manor.” Mercator Hosidus: “Fine.” He took a moment to search through his keychain, before producing the key to Zarov’s manor. “Here’s the key. You’re free to enter the Baron’s house for the time being. You mustn’t steal anything, but only take the poof of his culpability. And report to me directly.” Trials: I offered him a salute. “Righto. I’ll be back in two shakes of my tail!” We rushed back into town. You know, Gentle Reader, it is such a shame that the Fake Baldor took the evidence I’d found the last time I broke into lawfully entered the Baron’s manor. Who knows what the ogre likely did with them? But there’s bound to be more evidence to be found at Zarov’s manor. Ruin and I entered, and began the search. I immediately rushed to the second floor, where I tugged upon the candelabra... only to find it wouldn’t budge. I tried again, and again, but the damn thing was stuck fast. Trials: “Th-the secret door won’t open!” Ruin: “It seems it is no longer possible to prove there was a secret entrance from the Baron’s house into the sewers.” Trials: “Nnngh!” I fumed, but calmed myself and wiped the sweat from my brow. “It’s okay. We can still salvage this situation. We just need to get into the city sewers.” Ruin: “What about that skull on the shelf? Is that not evidence?” Trials: “Nah, that’s only proof that he shares a crap-sense of interior decoration with most of Cyrodiil.” Ruin: “If grave-robbing carries the death-penalty, why is it legal to just display a skull on one’s bookshelf?” Trials: “Because Cyrodiil is a clown-province full of lazy guards and nonsense-laws.”

We rushed back through town, heading to the south tip, where an old abandoned house lie. A month ago, when I scrambled, screaming and damp with sweat--and other fluids--from the city sewers, I popped up in this run down hovel, so I knew there was an entrance back into the sewers from here. We just needed to get in, and get down there. We were down there once more, and the stench of those sewers was a familiar, if unwelcome, hit. The odor was enough to sting the eyes and nose, and I groaned as I struggled through the sewers, pacing ever forward. Eventually, I led Ruin through the sewers. With a combination of memory, and the knowledge that the Baron’s home was vaguely north of the abandoned house, I found the tunnel that led under the Baron’s manor, and we strode forward. I crossed the bridge over the pit, and found the wrack that once contained the Baron’s bottles of spare blood. ...and was currently empty. Dammit! I turned back toward the pit, and climbed down into it... only to find it, too was empty. Unlike the vampires of Fort Carmala, the Baron didn’t believe in leaving rotting corpses lying around as decoration. Trials: “Dammit! The evidence is gone!” Ruin: “Zarov was one step ahead of us.” Trials: I grit my teeth, and shook. “It’s... it’s okay! We can still salvage this!” Ruin: “...how?” Trials: “I... Miaren Girendas! Over at Magh-Gra’s Tack and Supplies. She could at least confirm that the Baron left here with Lucy Varian.”

We rushed out of the sewers, and darted as quickly as we could over toward Magh-Gra’s, whereupon we found the Dark Elf in the corner of the shop, tending to her duties. Miaren: “Good day to you. Can I help with something?” She sniffed the air around us, and then covered her nose. “Ugh, perhaps by pointing you to the nearest bath?” Trials: “Yeah, sorry, we just got out of the sewers. Anyway, we need to talk about Baron von Zarov.” Miaren: “...what? What is it you’re saying?” Trials: “...” I grew increasingly irate. “Baron. Von. Zarov!” Miaren: “Never heard that name before. Who is he? Your master? Does he have an order in our shop?” Trials: “...” The hope audibly drained out of my voice. “You... really don’t remember, do you?” Miaren: “Sorry, remember what?” Trials: Defeated. “You don’t remember at all.” Miaren: “Let me check for his name in our ledgers. I’m sure that if we have an impending order it will be in the books.” Trials: Defeated. “It won’t.” Miaren: “Oh really?” Trials: Defeated. “Do you... not remember me, at all?” Miaren: “Not at all. Should I? When did we meet?” Trials: Defeated. “...never mind.” Ruin and I stepped out of the shop, and I hung my head, dejected. Ruin: “All of the evidence has vanished. The Baron must’ve known you were onto him and cleared everything. Even Miaren very memories!” Trials: I slammed a fist into the near wall. “It’s... we can still salvage this! I just need to find a way to time-travel back to two-months ago and--” Ruin: “My friend, let it go. The Baron outwitted us, this time.” Trials: Defeated. “Ugh... you’re right.” We carried back over to Skingrad Castle to report in. Hosidus was about as helpful as you might imagine; with no proof, he could not take action against Zarov, so we were effectively stonewalled. The Baron won this one, it seems. Well, at least I nicked his rare wine bottles!

[bellsybuilds]

[Overwatch] Hold your tongue  (T, Akande/Lucio, 1.7k)

The first of my fills for the writing prompts, wherein I again fail to respond to a prompt in under 1k words. I’ll just accept my handicap with grace.

Hold your tongue (Can also be read on AO3) for @slavewhotouchedastar

Doomfist | Akande Ogundimu / Lúcio Correia dos Santos (M) 

Chapters 1 / 2 / 3 | Ceasefire Masterlist

Angst #21: “I wish I didn’t have these feelings, but I do.”

Lúcio shouldn’t say anything.

He shouldn’t.

His arms cross tightly over his chest and he huffs a breath when strong hands stroke down his arms in what might be an attempt of comfort.

Comfort. Here.

That’s a laugh.

He tries not to shy from the familiar touch of those calloused palms, stomach tightening, but fingers tip his chin up, and then Lúcio has to look on the face of his complication.

Not for the first time, its occurs to him that Akande is really handsome. And his eyes are gorgeous, even if he often stares a little too long and makes people uncomfortable. He’s not afraid to study people. Right now, the full intensity of that focus is narrowed on him in a careful frown, and he resists the urge to look away.

Lúcio adores the strength of his features, bold and broad unlike his own straighter face, and a form he conditioned for speed. Akande was built to brawl while Lúcio trained himself to evade the need for it altogether. Not today. No more running.

“Ìfẹ́-ọkàn mi….” Akande smooths a thumb over his lower lip and Lúcio almost turns his face towards that palm on instinct. “You are thinking very loudly.”

Don’t say anything.

Before him in their secreted Illios motel room, early morning slants across Akande’s face. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, drawing Lúcio to follow so the shorter man doesn’t have to crane his neck to meet his eye.

They are both dressed, the work of a few minutes though it took even less than that to get them off last night. Lúcio spent most of his time this morning looking for where Akande threw his gloves and eventually found them behind the television.

At his back, the news anchor reports concerns of local unrest in the wake of tensions in Egypt. Is Talon behind that, too?

The story eclipses to silence as Akande turns off the television, giving Lúcio his full attention.

“I’m just… worried. For you,” Lúcio murmurs, drinking in Akande’s open body language, the hands he props on his knee, head tilted to listen attentively.

The bark of laughter is expected.

“You, worry? For me?” Akande smiles, squinting at Lúcio as though he will see the truth behind the joke if only he looks close enough. Lúcio’s face burns, an emotion tightening in his chest he’s not willing to study too closely as Akande laughs again, shaking his head. “And what cause have I given you for this concern?”

People are not all good or all bad.

Lúcio knows what he’s read, like everyone else: Akande Ogundimu is brilliant, aggressively forward-thinking, and persuasive. It’s these qualities that make him dangerous, more than his stolen gauntlet, more than the body count that climbs with each appearance of his name in the news. More ruthless than his own violence is the carnage Lúcio has witnessed him inspire in others: hangars of armoured Talon agents, guns raised, baying like slavering hounds for Doomfist’s glorious vision of a better world.

But Lúcio can’t ignore the other things he’s learned: the schools Akande’s subsidiaries established in his home country, the scholarships and medical care reconnecting and sustaining families still scarred decades after the events of the Omnic Crisis. The dangerous men he has recruited to his side so he can keep a close eye, and put down the worst of them himself.

The math is simple: the lives Akande has saved far outnumber those lost in his wake. That they know of. And still….

Lúcio closes his eyes with a small sigh, biting his tongue.

“I know you believe in what you’re doing, man, through and through. But….” He shakes his head, arms falling to his sides. “I want to ask you not to anyway.”

Akande doesn’t hesitate. “Then ask.”

“Don’t,” Lúcio fires back at Akande’s amused smile. “Please don’t.”

Akande stills, his smile softening into a calculated line and it’s like watching a film of ice pass over his eyes the moment he understands they have finally come to this conversation, after these three long months.

The shift from Akande to Doomfist is disturbingly seamless. A ripple seems to pass beneath Akande’s skin, every feature relaxing at the surface, but Lúcio feels the man’s strength coiling at the ready, electrifying the air with tension. And as that electricity builds, the easy comfort of the shield they erected around themselves over all these months begins to slowly and irreversibly fracture.

Lúcio doesn’t know why the break seems to start in his chest.

What would his family or friends say if they knew how long he had let this go on? That he let it happen at all?

“Years of planning,” Akande says. His voice has smoothed with a disquietingly familiar charm that gives Lúcio the chills.

“Don’t do that.”

It makes his stomach roll to hear that voice used on him, and in the sanctum of… whatever this is. He shakes his head, feeling the illusion fracture further. He stops himself from pushing the heel of his hand against the sudden pang in his chest.

Akande continues, and Lúcio’s attention is drawn to the slow, intent gesture of his hand. “Every conflict, every war makes us stronger. With our work, humanity will bear more like you who rise up and lead us forward.”

Lúcio stares at the man in disbelief. Is he for real? What exactly is he trying to start?

“And how many will die? How many who never had the means or the chance to protect themselves?” Lúcio thrusts a hand at the window to the world Akande thinks himself fit to reshape, voice rising. “Your way, Akande– it raises those you favour, and the privileged even higher. Don’t use me as a poster child for your war mongering. It could have been anyone else in Rio, but it’s dumb luck that I’m the one who stole that technology first.”

“No,” Akande rises to his feet, voice hushed with an intense passion, eyes alight. “You survived because you were the strongest, Lúcio!”

Lúcio takes a step back, unafraid, but unwilling to let the other man close the distance. “We didn’t want to fight. People were disappearing. They were being beaten in the streets. Thrown into jail without charge or sufficient cause. A building exploded and they pretended it wasn’t their fault. That was your people.”

Akande shakes his head immediately. “Not mine.” His lip curls in an ugly scowl, voice hardening. “There is nothing more cowardly than a bomb.”

Oh, right. Akande doesn’t know that Lúcio has learned Vishkar sit at his table. Which just makes everything the two of them have been doing even worse.

He swallows thickly, taking another step back when Akande reaches for him. It physically pains Lúcio not to let him. When the hell did they get so far?

Lúcio tries to swallow some moisture down his throat, even that is difficult. His body is wound so tight, trembling. It forces his words out quiet and unsteady.

“People died, and they didn’t have to. I fight so nobody has to live through that again. We just want to live. How many in places like mine, do you think would survive a war? A real war?” He tilts his head, studying Akande’s face intently, but he’s not as good at this as Akande, and Akande’s expression is stone. “Why do you get to decide that for us?”

“A war is coming, Lúcio, with or without me. But with me, we can steer its machine.” With a blink, something softens in his expression. Akande sighs, straightening. His shoulders relax and Lúcio feels some of the tension leave his own body. “You can still leave. Do not make the quarrel between us today.”

Lúcio smiles wryly, shrugging and throwing his hands up. “It was always between us. But this only worked when we pretended otherwise, huh? Listen.” He leans his hands on his hips, and watches Akande’s expression light up further when Lúcio steps in, voice gentle. “Would be easier if I didn’t, but I care about you. I wish–” His heart hammers, but he forces the words out past tight lungs and his throat closing, he has to now or he never will, “I wish I didn’t have these feelings, but I do. And I gotta fight for those people who can’t fight for themselves. You know?”

Akande is quiet, dark eyes searching Lúcio’s face long enough for Lúcio to see that he understands. He understands and it’s not relief or joy that Lúcio sees in his face, but he never expected that.

He never expected this to go for more than one night, all those months ago in Numbani.

“You won’t get the answer you want from me,” Akande says, in a strange tone that Lúcio doesn’t understand. The man doesn’t even have the decency to make it sound like an apology.

Lúcio nods, gaze dropping to the floor, adjusting his stance. He anticipated that. He just hopes Akande can’t tell he’s shaking.

Glancing to the door at his back, the silence is heavy and brings the realisation crashing down that he only has seconds before those targets return to their backs and they’ll need to raise their weapons.

Against each other? Fuck.

“… Would you do it yourself?” Lúcio asks, unable to look Akande in the face, doesn’t even consider that Akande might not understand.

He feels a huff of air on his temple a moment before a hand turns his face, and then Akande is kissing him. Deeply. A tongue slides between his lips, a gentle hand cups the back of his head, and Lúcio’s whole body gives up the fight, bowing towards Akande as it releases the tension of the last five minutes. His heart is thundering in his chest, his eyes sting – no, fuck, he’s not going to lose it –

Akande pulls back before Lúcio is ready, a sharp, wet break of sound, and Lúcio whimpers despite himself, body leaning in to follow him.

Fuck.

Akande’s eyes are dark and pupils blown. He swallows audibly, glancing from Lúcio’s lips to meet his gaze. His hands fall away. “If I see you on the field. Go the other way.”

Metal scrapes on wood as Akande swipes his earpieces from the table and when the door swings shut behind his back, Lúcio’s ears ring in the silence.

And he can’t escape the feeling that there’s something else he should have said.

[kuroheishi]

aRGH I am so sorry guys this is so hella late, moving to another country is a huge thing and I found time only now to write this thing down, but finally I can throw all of my fierce love on ya 

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE +600 FOLLOWERS!!!!!

That’s a huge milestone for me and I am so flattered so many people follow this blog?? However! Before starting to name one by one all the wonderful people I gotta thank in here, I gotta announce that this is going to be a kinda uh... Hiatus post too? From next week everything is going to get even busier when @littlxlamb is gonna come and get me to kindap me, so... I don’t know when I will get again some more free time to be on here. IT MAKES ME SAD TO SAY BYE ON HERE BUT LIFE AAAAAHHHHHH 

WELL ANYWAYS! I’LL COME BACK FOR SURE!! Even if super rarely I’ll always come back online in here because this is like a small second home for me heh.

I am so grateful for these two years in this fandom, Yuu has completely changed my life; I found the Mika in my life heh and I got to learn so much from my muse and I wanna give as much love as he does to the world no matter of how cruel it can be. I learnt and I keep learning so freaking much from the people I have met in here and I just- I don’t know, I love everything of Owari no Seraph, Yuu and all the friendos I found here.

Thank you so much everyone!! 

EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!! THANK YOU!!

Thank you to those who have stayed here since the very beggining, all the old and new friendos, it’s like having this huge family and even if sometimes we might even fight like it happens in all families it’s cool to always see you all around, fighting sometimes also helps to make bonds stronger right? 

I am so grateful to everyone who RPed with me or who even sent me just one ask, I appreciate this so very much!! Thank you for the patience, for when I get super heated about Yuu shbjsdhjksdhksd I just can’t help it rubs rubs head! SO THANK YOU FOR BEARING WITH THAT!! 

And at last, thank you again to every single follower! YES YOU WHO ARE READING THIS LONG SENTIMENTAL POST POINTS AT! Thank you for the support by following this blog, it means a lot to me ya know? It’s like telling me I am not doing so bad with my Yuu portrayal, that you like what I post/reblog and well- this blog will always be hella important to me, it has a special place in my heart so I’ll never stop to thank all of you!!

It’s a shame we all live in so many different places because I’d treat y’all to some curry or ice cream as a thank you but damn I hope my gratitude can reach you by this long ass post hahaha

THANK YOU ALL AGAIN!! THROWS MOUNTAINS OF GOOD VIBES AT!!

If anyone has an Instagram account and idk if you’re interested in crap cosplay or you want to keep better in touch with me during my hiatus period, you can follow me on here:

@kisshiichu

I post pretty much often there! And it will be easier for me to reply to stuff and all!

Gonna put all the rest on read more because it’s going to be hella l ong, good luck everyone to find your tag down there thumbs up!

Credits for the amazing follow forever banner go to @littlxlamb as usual because damn you’re so talented and thank you for always doing this cool stuff for me ahhhhh you’re too kind to me Nia buries you in a huge a hug!! I don’t know how you knew I wanted all the family in the picture but ahhh thank you!!

P.s. as usual I am so freaking sorry if I forget anyone but my head lately is even more messy with the moving matter, so please forgive me sdhsdghsd

Family

@littlxlamb: HELLO MIKANIA!! It’s two years we know each other and it doesn’t sound real right? But at the same time it’s like woah, only two freaking years?? Since the beginning it has always been weird how well clicked, how we could talk 5ever and be so in sync if that makes sense? AND NOW WE’RE GOING TO LIVE TOGETHER I AM SO EXCITED I COULD CLIMB A TREE OR SOMETHING EUDBJSDSD I know it’s gonna be hella hard at the beginning, but I also know that there is no other place I could be if not next you ya know? So I’m gonna roll up my sleeves and work hard for both us! But hey, I’ll tell u this face to face, but thank you for always being by my side since the beginning. Thank you for always supporting me, for giving me a family, for giving me a purpose, thank you for making me laugh and for scolding me when I need it heh I know I’m an idiot sometimes, right? Thank you for being born and for being in my life, I am so glad our blogs brought us this close, that’s why I’ll always be grateful to Yuu, Mika and ons for allowing us to meet. I promise that from next week I’ll fight side by side with you, you are so talented in the things you do that I am sure step by steop you will reach your goals and I will be always there to cheer for you!! I’ll work hard to be your pillar and to make you smile at least once a day AND I AM NOT GONNA FAIL FIST UP!

@brassboundvalkyrie: mama Kiiiiiiiiiiiiit!!!! I know lately I haven’t been very active on our fam group chat, but hey never forget I love you okay?? You’re hella awesome and cool, I will never stop reminding you that, I gotta learn from you tbh. But I mean, not only for you writing and cosplay skills, just one day wanna be a mature adult like you, you’re like my adult inspiration if that makes sense A REAL MAMA! I am so happy that you’re finally having a good time with your new work tho!! It’s actually kinda cute how you sound excited about it, so I’m really glad to see you like that heh. And well you know that even if I am not super active on this blog, that I’ll always keep in touch with you through Skype!! SO YOU WON’T MISS ME TOO MUCH HAH 

@rutilisanguinis: BARA PAPA VAMPIRE!! I actually don’t know why Lau but with you it comes more natural to act like this bratty rebellious kid since we have started talking two years ago woah. LAU DAMN THANK YOU FOR CONTACTING ME BACK THEN!! I am so glad we met, you even formed our Skype fam basically and I just wish you all the good things with your health, work and life in general because you deserve it! I hope one day we will meet again for sure, we must!! AH!! Almost forgot to thank you again for the adorable gift, like sdghsdghjsd it made me so flattered that you thought about me?? It was so kind of you ahhhhhhhhhh

@fortisgladio: Lizzie ah damn what can I say about you? I am glad Yuu allowed me to meet someone like you, someone as passionate (IF NOT MORE) than me about ons and especially our precious sunshine boy! No matter if we have similar thoughts about him or not, just thank you so much for how much love you put in everything you write and do!! You’re a wonderful huge bright sun, it’s always uh... I forgot English for a sec hang on lemme check the dictionary- comforting?? Yes that too, and it brightens my day whenever I get to exchange few words with you; seeing you on my dash is always wonderful too, I love your writing so freaking much shakes the pc! You are an ispiration for me, thank you for being my friend and for always being this kind, I really appreciate that so damn much. I just wish for everything in your life to go super well, for you to always find the strength to fight it IF YOU NEED TO PUNCH STRUGGLES I’LL BE BY YOUR SIDE BRUH!! I am just sending you all the love and good vibes because you must get all of the happiness and love!!!!!

@undyingxloyalty: slides huge ice cream in here- KAT LEMME SCREAM TO THE OCEAN ABOUT HOW OF AN AMAZING FRIEND YOU ARE!!! Do you understand how grateful I am that you’re in my fam zone?? Because ahhhhh lately we finally got talk more and I’m so glad we did!! You have always been so freaking supportive with me and I have always wondered, the heck do I deserve such wonderful friends around me?? That’s why I wanna give you back everything you do for me!! All the kinds words always ready to hit me hard, this helpful aura you have around yourself and how I feel chill because I know somehow you’ve always kept an eye on me somehow?? All of that has always given much happiness kay, so I hope I can give you as much of that to you, because I wanna see you happy!! You deserve it sooooooo much! And don’t think I forgot about your stunning writing, I am so flattered I got to write with such a skilled writer as you are, you’re Mika is freaking well portayed that damn I just scream. Thank you for being an ispiration too, remember to stay always cool and safe!! 

@sassyshinoahiiragi: Chelsea damn you’re always such a sweet friend with me! Time zone sucks because it doesn’t help us to catch each other online, but I don’t care just thank you for always being this supportive EVEN TOO MUCH SOMETIMES AJHKSDHKJSDHKJSD still grateful for that tho, I hope I can be as supportive for you?? Like I really wish everything will go well for you, because all the happiness must hit you hard! I miss writing with you, but remember that Yuu and I will always wait for Shinoa and you to come back!! I have always been hella flattered you contacted me and all, that you like my Yuu so thank you so much /////  Even tho I will be on hiatus here, I hope I can get to jump on ya even from England!! SO SEE YOU SOON HEH

@fallenangelmikaela: FLIES FOR A TACKLE HUG!!!!! Okay Alice as you said... We’ve been mutuals for how long? Two years?? Since I have started my blog and heck, for time zone and all we didn’t even get to talk that much til these last months, but I’m so happy we finally got closer kay? Because you’re such a cool friendo and I have so much fun talking to you, RPing with your Mika too!! I even told you that for my Yuu your Mika is like hella important to him!! Thank you for being patient with my noisiness, I have you on Skype and Instagram so I am sure we’ll keep in touch somehow even during my hiatus AND I AM GLAD KAY. Stay always safe and I wish you too much much much happiness, I am still crossing my finger for you and your thing hah, so I am sure one day something super woah and good is gonna happen to you!!

@chiheisxn: dude. buries u under affection. Even tho you always hit me with angst AND YOU KNOW YOU DO, thank you for even doing that. I really appreciate every single ask you send me, you have so much creativity and talent in writing, you’re so funny and yet you can be so heart breaking with your threads that damn. I adore that. I am still so sorry for all the shit that has happened back then, I hate seeing friends struggling and being attacked, so never forget to come to me if someone ever dares to even say a bad words on you kay? Because I am gonna get them so hard, no one should receive hate, especially my FRIENDS and for dumb stuff like jeez. I will miss seeing you around when I’ll be away BUT I WILL BE SURE TO BE BACK TO JUMP ON YOU AND YUU ON YOUR AKANE!!

@thatonecoolnara & @inuzukachii: where you guys at?????? I actually saw Madara mum around lately on here but I didn’t wanna bother, I just keep an eye on you two thanks to socials heh, but I hope you’re both doing great! Just wanted to remind you guys that even if we might be not in touch that I always check on you guys and that I still care for you two a lot kay? Always gonna keep a thought for you two and wishing hard for the best in your life!

@littlepsychedelicdream: Madi-chan damn I am sorry lately we didn’t talk like at all? But probably you’re busy too and I just hope you’re doing well!! We’ve know each other for some years already and hey, never forget that no matter if we talk or not, if life is busy and stuff, you’ll always be this very cool friendo, reliable, sweet, kind and hella fun to talk to! You have a great talent, both in writing and art so I am crossing my fingers so hard for you, I am sure you’ll reach your goals, I believe in you!!

The Squad

@asura-the-black: ahhhhhh bruh!! I hope you’re doing well, but hey just wanted to keep reminding you that I am still glad for all the times we got to RP!! Because your writing is just so stunning, so strong with feels to hit me hard in the heart! Thank you for that and for even discussing with me about headcanons!! My Yuu will always keep your Asuramaru in his heart kay? I hope you’re having fun and that you’re safe!! ONE DAY WE’LL WRITE MORE AGAIN!! I love your blog too much sdjsdksdkds

@poenitet: woah dad, I am gonna tag you with Guren’s blog because that’s how we met heh. I’m sorry lately I’ve been hella busy and we also kinda distanced ourselves but yeah, you’re really kinda Guren style and I keep my distance too if I know I might anger someone ya know, I am just really empathic I guess and since I like talking with you very much I get kinda sad if I feel like I might anger you. You’re such a talented writer and artist honestly that I hope you’ll find your happy path someday! I am glad we got to talk so much about Owari no Seraph and especially about Guren, I have always missed in here someone to write Guren and Yuu’s bond with me, because it just gives me huge feels and idk you’re perfect in that? Your Guren is just the dad for my Yuu that I really cannot describe in proper words how my son feels damn. Just huge fierce love for your Guren, that’s it. Thank you anyways for allowing me to write with you and for showing me your cool drawings, I had much fun!! YOU NERD. 

@elyon-kurae: hey Lily!!! First lemme tell you that I must confess your OC is literally like the first one who caught me properly, I mean, damn I admire people for writing original characters but you also gotta have talent to pull out something cool and girl you have it! That is why, since you are always so super supportive with me, I wish I can give you as much support! Because you write Elyon so freaking well, her personality and all, you are an artist too so I can always wish you to improve in everything you love! Fight your struggles, I know you can do it but never forget to rely on friends when you feel down because people care for you and they’re only glad to help you kay? Call me if you gotta punch trouble, I’ll hurry to kick butts with you!!

@ofsnipcr: FLA DAMN I ACTUALLY GOTTA CONTACT YOU TO ASK YOU IF YOU’RE COMING TO THE CON WOAH. But hey, I still remember the first time you commented under a post of mine, back then the dash was full of new people for me and you offered a hand to me, to get comfy in this new fandom so never gonna thank you for that! You are one of the sweetest friends I know really, you’re so talented and I love your Shinya so much! Your writing is amazing too like how can you do it sdhjsdhsd but yes imma contact you, because it would be so wonderful to meet you finally!! And have fun together heh. Thank you for everything and a huge good luck with everything you gotta do!! Throws tones of good luck and love vibes at!!

@monophagia: Vero, darkness my old friend. Why do I even try to make jokes when I can’t sdgjsdhjsdsd ANYWAYS. Dude, you’re talented kay? So leave the the bad stuff behind your back and just lemme shower you in compliments because beside your amazing writing skills, I mean you’re an ispiration for me when I read your threads, you’re also such a cool artist?? So thank you for even wanting to write with me, I am so flattered sdhjgksdghkjds  SO STAY ALWAYS COOL, I know that Yuu and Saito don’t have much of a uh... Chance to have much interaction I guess? BUT THAT’S WHY AUs EXIST I LOVE YOUR SAITO KAY 

@lordgeales: jii-chan’s kissy friend points at! NO OKAY BESIDE JOKES!! I am sorry we didn’t get to talk much but?? I am very noisy I know shjdshjsdbnsd but I might be shy too kay. Tho you better know that I love your portrayal, your writing YOUR BLOG, thank you for loving so much a character who hasn’t appeared much on the manga yet and for giving it life!! Also you are so sweet, you even thought about me for that crack thing you once sent me on IM and that made me so flattered and happy woah. I hope in the future we will get to RP more too!! 

@lestkarrkingofeurope: ahhhhhhh bruh!! I just wanted to tell you that your blog is FREAKING AWESOME!! Thank you for giving the fandom the blessing of your small King, I am so sorry I didn’t get to make Yuu jump on your muse sdjskjsda but I hope in the future I’ll get to write something with you because I’d be so flattered to! EVEN CRACK STUFF I just love your portrayal, your writing is just too stunning. Keep on with the great work and right! Thank you for working hard with your friends on the ons chapters, translating and editing them for the fandom!! 

@lendmeyourpower: heyyy there!! Just wanted to tell you that I love writing with your Guren!! And to always remind you that your Yuu was my first very inspiration in here when I just started with my blog! Thank you for wanting to write with my Yuu, it made me so very glad and remember I’m always wishing and cheering for your good health! I hope you can get better soon and fight your troubles!!

@ai-kizu-rp: MELY-CHAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Just thank you for being patient with me and for still keeping in touch with me, I keep seeing your drawings and I am cheering for you to reach higher goals with your talent!! I’ll never forget our funny times on my other RP blog, it’s a shame life doesn’t give as much time anymore to play on all of my blogs and that I focused on Yuu because he’s my spirit animal but sdghjsahgksa I will keep cheering for you from here!!!

@snipec: I have written so much I don’t know anymore what I am doing BUT JUST LEMME SAY THAT YOUR SHINYA IS AMAZING AND I HAVE MUCH FUN WRITING WITH YOU even tho I am always slow as heck BUT HE’S LIKE DAD #2 BECAUSE OF GUREN and you’re also very sweet and I hope we’ll get to interact more in the future aghjshkjsdk YUU WILL EAT TOATS WITH SHINYA ONE DAY

@selfxloathingxvamp: ahhhh hello there!! I am sorry we stopped talking because I disappeared but sdhjgsdhjsgd LIFE KEPT ME BUSY and at some point discord started to lag too so I got annoyed, me vs technlogy is a costant struggle. But hey! I wanted to thank you for being so damn kind to me, it’s always something I appreciate so much EVEN IF U CHALLENGED ME MANY TIMES IMMA ALWAYS FITE U BRUH. And you’re a super fun person to talk to, cool to RP with too! Your writing is on spot with Mika and I still hope that when I will be back I will get to talk more again with you!! Just good luck with yout stuff kay? Always gonna cross my fingers for cool friendos, that’s why I hope you get to meet with @yuichiroisms one day!! It’s cool to have someone you care so much by your side heh, so imma take this chance to tell Eri too that I wish you guys all the best, hope your paths will meet for real real one day!! Just work hard on it and if you need some help on lifting struggle don’t mind calling me, imma directly punch down the wall thumbs up!!!

@crusaderce: u know that Yuu has not accepted yet Crowley as the cuddle buddy for mama Horn right? Yuu staring intensly in the distance. Tho wait besides jokes friendo, with all of your blogs I have seen in this fandom, you write your muses so well! I love seeing how your Crowley is basically a kindergarten done teacher who gotta keep an eye on the brats bugging him sdghsdhjgsdhjksd I HOPE WHEN I’LL BE BACK WE’LL GET TO WRITE MORE TOGHER!! Stay always awesome and safe!!

@ofichinose: ahhhhhhhh friendo your Guren is just so freaking amazing, HONESTLY LIKE ALL THE MUSES YOU WRITE AS!! I am so grateful there is someone like you always fighting for Guren and who  writes such interesting analysis about him, I am glad there is someone like you to defend the dad heh. Also!!! I am so glad I got to write something with your Aoi, because at least for me it sounds so interesting and a huge battle of who’s more determined and stubborn on their ideals! So I am looking forward to seeing how it’s going to develop!! Keep on with the great work!!

@krullish: !!!!!!! Even tho we kinda have never had the chance to interact here so much because of life keeping us busy, time zone and much other crap, always gonna remind you how cool and talented you are!! You were the first blog in here I followed of the fandom and I’m glad I found you!! Thank you for always being kind because that’s a huge thing for me and I’m glad somehow I can keep an eye on you from Instagram because I admire your cosplay skills so much!! Who knows, maybe one day we’ll get to cosplay together with Nia?? It would be hella cool! Good luck with everything you gotta do and keep on with the great work!!

@retentionsx: KASPAR!! I wanted to apologise that we didn’t have much of a chance to interact in the end, but unfortunately when you came around I also got kinda busy, but hey! You’re an amazing person kay? For the few things I got to see of you, you are such a great presence in my dash and I am so glad we met! You’re hella talented, never forget about it! Your Yato, your writing is amazing and thank you so freaking much for brightening my days when you’d be around!! Just thank you so much, I wish you all the happiness because you deserve it!! Throws tones of happy vibes at!!

@all-i-want-is-yuu: friendo!! Just imma throw on you all the good vibes too because I feel like you sometimes don’t believe in your skills when?? Hey you’re a cool person, kind and sweet and that’s already something big! Thank you for being a supportive friend and remember you write super well too!! You’ll have to wait for my reply but looking forward to seeing how it’s gonna develop our thread of Yuu accidentally stealing Mika’s boots snorts

  LAST HUGE SHOUT OUT TO EVERYONE, EVEN THOSE I MIGHT HAVE FORGOTTEN BECAUSE MY BRAIN IS JUST KINDA EXPLODING BUT I REALLY LOVE Y’ALL AND YOU’RE ALL AMAZING THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR MAKING THIS PLACE A GREAT PLACE AND FOR MAKING MY EXPERIENCE IN HERE SO AWESOME!!

[msawesomeworld]

Royalty not loyalty Chapter 7

A/N: Look at me, writing a little again. I usually update once a year so this is unusual for me. I know some of my fics still hasn't been updated, but i will write when i feel inspired or when the others are finished. Anyway i hope you enjoy this one. <3

read the other chapters here.

“Any woman who is sure of her own wits, is a match, at any time, for a man who is not sure of his own temper.” 

-Wilkie Collins

Stella’s P.O.V.

We met back up with the others and waited for the queens to walk in. They did and our prodigies had to show off what they had learned. Once they were done, the queens clapped at us impressed. Alexandra got up and smirked at us, she sent the prodigies out of the room and stood in front of us, her smirk faded.

“Congratulations royals, you have now trained these candidates to be the perfect fit for the royal sculls.” She said and I could feel myself smiling to myself, I was proud of myself.

“But the crowned sculls do not tolerate liars, these people lied on their applications. Go tell them that they are no longer welcome in this society.” She said sitting down shooing us off.

I was actually a little hurt by this. That meant that we had spent, so much time on something, that ended up not meaning anything. They would not earn a place in this place anyway. We walked into the room and I sat down in front of Emily looking sadly at her.

“I hope you remember what I thought you today, trust me when I say, that manners maketh man. But since you lied, and we have no tolerance for liars in this society. You cannot be accepted as a member. Please leave.” I said, and she started crying slightly, but nodded and left the room. I felt a little tear escape my eye, but I quickly wiped it away, and I pushed any emotions out of the way.

I was queen now, I would have to make decisions, that I did not like. Because it was for the greater good. The queens clapped at us again, and told us that they hoped we had learned how to make hard decision. They wished us the best of luck, and let the boys take over.

The boys walked in like they owned the room and stood in front of us smirking.

“While the ladies run a course about responsibility, we do not care about that. We are gonna need you to throw us a party, it needs to be great. See you tomorrow night.” Charles the former king said handing us a list of demands for the party. We bowed and curtseyed, then went back to our own mansion.

We were sitting around having fun, and went our separate ways when we had eaten dinner. We all wanting a little alone time. I sat in the library half reading a book, when I heard a knock on the door. I turned around expecting who it was and rolled my eyes as he stood beside me. Just looking back in my book.

“Sorry, not in the mood, is it too much of a girl to ask for like an hours privacy from your antics?” I said, sighing at him, I could hear him chuckle at me.

“Well, sadly I know a little bit about you.” He said, and I looked up at him furrowing my eyebrows, looking at him judging, he did not know me at all. We do not talk like normal people all we do is banter.

“Darling, if I left you to yourself, you would continue to live this horribly boring life.” He said his face nearing mine smirking, I rolled my eyes at him.

“So? It is my life, can’t you just not make it your problem?” I asked and he smiled at me and shook his head.

“Sorry darling, but I have a soft spot for lost causes. And you need some guidance.” He said putting his hand forward for me to take, I looked at it and then at him.

“Where would we be going?” I asked and he smirked and shrugged.

“Take my hand and find out. Nothing wrong with a little adventure once in a while.” He said, I looked him in the eyes, he seemed genuine.

I wanted to take his hand but my brain was screaming at me not to. But a little part of me saw that boy from earlier, that brought out something sweet in me. Something that I thought my mother had gotten rid of a long time ago. And he looked like he actually cared. Beside all of my better judgement I took his hand, put the book down and we left the library. We walked outside and into the woods which I looked at him judging.

“If this is where you take me? To rape and murder me in the woods in the middle of the night?” I asked half joking, he laughed his beautiful laughter and then smiled at me.

“Relax princess, the only thing I will be slaying is dragons to defend your honor.” He said joking and I felt myself chuckling at the comment.

We talked like this for a little while, well we insulted and mocked each other. I liked talking to Louis, he seemed to be able to not take things seriously. I kind of liked that, because I was never allowed to not be serious. We walked through the woods until we reached a clearing where there was a big lake, beautiful in the moonlight with super clean water. We sat down at the edge of the pier and looked out over the lake. It was an amazing sight, I did not regret taking his hand now.

“See? Good things can happen when you make a little trouble.” He said smiling at me, I rolled my eyes and sighed.

“I am only going to say this once, about this one particular instance only.” I started and paused with him looking at me smirking.

“You’re right.” I said and he cheered, and started talking about how he was a genius that everyone should listen to about everything.

“Okay calm down Einstein, you discovered a lake not the cure for cancer, get off your high horse.” I said and he rolled his eyes.

“Well, I got a princess to take a chance to actually have some fun. Plus you gotta admit I am a genius.” He said pausing to smirk at me.

“Plus the view from this high horse I gorgeous, I can see your cleavage and everything.” He said smiling at me I rolled my eyes and glared at him.

“Pervert.” I said and he just shrugged.

“Well. How else should I approach courting someone like you huh? You do not respond to anything, is your software not programmed to feel things? Or should I wait for the update?” He said teasing me I rolled my eye at him.

“Oh trust me I feel things, like disgust, and hate, and loathing.” I said smirking at him he sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, you will come around, they always do.” He said and I furrowed my eyebrows.

“Care to wager on that?” I said offended that he thought I could just be sweet-talked and won over. What a fool he was.

“Always up for a little game, what is my prize if I win?” He said looking at me smirking, I smirked too.

“Good, if you win me over, which will only happen in your dreams, I will make it worth your while.” I said and he smirked and nodded.

“And if you win, I will announce in front of the entire royals that you are the most brilliant woman in the world.” He said and I smirked, that would be something worth seeing.

“Deal.” I said and he smirked and licked his lips.

“Good. Get ready to lose, because Disney thought me that dreams come true.” He said and I chuckled taking one last look at the lake before standing up.

“Time to get back to reality then.” I said, and with that I pushed him into the lake and started walking away smirking to myself. This was very dangerous what I was doing, but I also had a feeling this was gonna be the most fun I had in a while.

“You’re just gonna leave me here princess?” He yelled after me, and I chuckled as I turned around to see a soaked Louis standing in the lake. I smirked and shrugged.

“Sorry frog, but I’m not your princess.”

A/N: Hope you enjoyed, wanna waste more time while you wait like 6 months for the next chapter? Read my others fics here.