#as i have abstained from reading other fics since someone got it into their head to accuse me of plagiarism

[f-imaginings]

hai!!!!

i know you've already confirmed doing minor what ifs, but have you ever planned or thought of doing a longer one for a happy ending?

(im sorry for asking but these two make me mentally ill in the best way posible. )

The what ifs will be pretty well sized so hopefully they'll scratch the itch for y'all. My goal with the ending is also to make it kind of optimistic to empower other folks who want to write fanfic to give it a shot and make their own content too. I just love the idea of being able to make a positive impact with this story and to embolden others to let their own creativity run free. Plus I'd be cheering if there was a list of "works inspired by" that could sit at the end of the story when it's finished. That way the story (that a lot of people seem to really dig) can live on in everyone's interpretations of it!

[221bsunsettowers]

The Kingdom Lights Shine Just for Me and You (TK/Carlos Royal AU): Chapter 4: Your Heart is a Beating Drum

TK Strand is a Prince who has given up on true love after having his heart broken.

Carlos Reyes is a Knight who longs for true love but must put his family's needs first.

Carlos just won a jousting tournament hosted by TK's father.

The prize?

An arranged marriage with one Prince TK.

A 9-1-1 Lone Star Royal AU

Previous chapters can be found here 

Chapter 4: Your Heart is a Beating Drum

In which Carlos and TK struggle with the poison revelation, there is a misunderstanding leading to cracks in emotional walls and mutual softness, and Carlos meets his new security detail, Judd and Marjan.

Carlos opened his mouth, but no words came out. He found himself unable to do anything but sit there, staring, gape-mouthed, at Tommy, hands gripping the base of his chair hard enough his knuckles turned white."Are you sure?" he heard TK ask, but the words seemed muffled, making their way towards Carlos as if through water.

"It was in his goblet of wine," Nancy answered, and Carlos' head shot up, his wide-eyed gaze drawn straight to TK, whose face was drained of all color.

"You saved my life," Carlos whispered, the first words he had been able to get out since the news had so abruptly arrived. TK's eyes were immediately on Carlos, and Carlos found he could already easily read the question in TK's gaze. "The wine. I stopped drinking as soon as I saw you were uncomfortable. I only had perhaps two sips, maybe three."

"That would explain why you merely got so ill," Tommy said, nodding in agreement.

"Merely got so ill?" TK's voice was suddenly raised, his face now flushed, tone full of anger. "If he wasn't here-"

"Of course, I understand," Carlos cut in, unsuccessfully attempting to control the tremble in his voice. "I will go pack my things at once, Your Highness. My presence will no longer cause you discontent." He managed to remind his body how to bow, his voice to say, "Thank you all for your kindnesses," before quickly making his way back towards his chambers.

"Was that your goal?" Grace gently chided, and TK could merely shake his head, before sprinting  after Carlos.

"I fear that there has been a misunderstanding," TK burst out, throwing open the door to Carlos' chambers, stopping short as he was met with the sight of a bare chested Carlos, holding in one hand the tunic he had just been wearing in the kitchen, in the other hand the clothes he had arrived in.

"I fear there has not been," Carlos sighed, eyes downcast as he held the tunic out to TK, whose gaze was still frozen on the expanse of Carlos' skin. "I will not take anything I did not arrive with."

"Carlos, stop, please," TK pleaded, gently wrapping his fingers around Carlos' wrist. Carlos twisted away, pulling his own shirt on before reaching for his bag.

"I do not wish you to be harmed!" TK did not register the volume of his voice, or the tremble weaving in around his words, only that Carlos had not yet picked up his bag, that he had not yet moved for the door. "If I am discontented, it is because a villain could have killed you the prior evening!" TK's eyes were wide, and his chest was heaving, and he was almost shouting, and Carlos could not tear his own eyes away. "And I cannot have that. I will not have that."

"TK," Carlos breathed out, soft and surprised, laying his hand gently on TK's shoulder, squeezing once in reassurance. "I am not harmed."

"I know," TK murmured, rubbing his face harshly between his fingers, the air and energy seeming to deflate as he sunk onto the corner of the bed. "But you were in pain. It was mere chance that you are not..." A shudder rippled through TK's shoulders, and he shook his head, refusing to continue.

"It was your example, actually, that ensured my recovery," Carlos said with a smile, crouching down and placing a grounding hand on TK's jittering knee. "I think, TK, I shall be joining you in abstaining from wine from now on."

This startled a wry chuckle from TK, who nodded, a smile beginning to turn up the corners of his mouth again. "My name sounds much better from your lips than Your Highness. I am glad I have earned back the right."

"I am still amenable," Carlos assured him with a smile, and TK's face crinkled into a full grin, before he moved to join Carlos on the floor, sitting cross-legged with his hands clasped in his lap.

"I do not wish you to depart," TK admitted softly, staring down at his hands. "I wish you to be safe. But as this is an arrangement my parents are determined to see through, I am glad it is you by my side."

"I am glad to be by your side," Carlos assured him, reaching over and resting his hand on top of TK's. TK unlatched his own fingers and turned one hand up, interlocking his fingers through Carlos' and squeezing softly.

And then just as suddenly TK was pulling back his hand, cradling it to his chest as he stood up and walked towards the door. "You must be tired still," he said softly, staring at the door, his back to Carlos. "You should get some rest. I will make sure there is someone stationed outside your door to ensure your safety."

"Thank you," Carlos whispered to an already closed door, TK somewhere on the other side.

Carlos had completed returning all garments to their proper places and was just attempting to settle back into the bed, when a knock sounded on his door. "Yes?" Carlos called out, and a tall man with broad shoulders entered the room, a large friendly smile on his face.

"Hello there," the man said. "My name is Judd." He gestured to the woman who had moved up to stand next to him. "This is Marjan. TK has requested that we arrange protection for you given what occurred at the banquet."

"We have been instructed by TK to ignore any protests you may provide," Marjan added, her eyes sparkling mischeviously. This startled a laugh out of Carlos, who shook his head with a rueful smile.

"I am a knight," Carlos said, gesturing towards his sword, now carefully cleaned and returned to its scabbard. "I have been more than capable of protecting myself for many years now."

"We have seen you joust, we fully trust in your capabilities," Marjan promised. "We would welcome you joining our training sessions."

"But TK..." Judd trailed off, leaning back against the wall. "He has endured a lot this past year. More than his share. Finding his own way to keep you safe seems highly important to him. Which brings us here."

"Will he have enough protection still?" Carlos asked anxiously. "I am sure you already have a protocol in place, given TK must order protection such as this for all guests. I would just have assurance he will not be left unguarded."

Judd and Marjan exchanged a knowing smile before answering. "This is the first occurrance, in fact," Marjan replied, a smirk playing across her lips. "Before he has always left all security to his father. Even with Prince A-" She stopped herself short, pinching her lips together, smile falling away. "That is not a name that should ever be mentioned within these walls, or anywhere ever again if I had my say."

"I will not ask or speak of him," Carlos promised, and Marjan gave him a quick nod of respect. "I just wish, I would know more of what occurred so I could understand and help, so I could know if there is ever a chance..." Sighing, Carlos rubbed his hands over his face. "It is not my place and I will not attempt to make it so."

"We are very fond of our little prince here," Judd said with a chuckle, and Marjan snorted with laughter. Carlos raised a surprised eyebrow but found himself unable to stop himself from laughing along. "He is our family. And we have not seen him smile like this in far too long."

"Which may very well be the reason the king wishes a word with you now," Marjan said as she gestured towards the door. "He's waiting in the throne room."

I made the mood board at the top (photo credit to Denny Mueller, Tim Rebkavets, Pawel Furman, Alice Pasqual, and Jonathan Kemper). Please, absolutely feel free if you are inspired by this story to make moodboards, fanart, fics inspired by, headcanons, share your theories with me, stories for side characters, etc. I can’t even tell you the joy that brings me. Honestly, that’s always been my dream as a writer. Just please tag me! @a-l-ias is an amazing artist who is working on fanart for this story and my heart can’t even handle the happiness. 

If you would like to be added to the taglist for this story, please let me know! @laelipoo​ @ravens-words​ @ladytimekiller​ @buddie-buddie​ @morganaspendragonss​ @marceee24​ @a-l-ias​ @bikingthroughhawkins​ @i-had-bucky​ @pragmaticoptimist34​ @highqualitykhakis​ @meloingly​ @borntobewondering​ 

[lailyn]

Argh, I know, I shouldn't be greedy, but I just love a good whump fic and I love Strangefrost and I love your writing... so, might I humbly ask for another?? Maybe?? For the - I don't know - the digestive system maybe?

Here ya go! This one's a bit longer, it kinda got away from me. 😅

A Fool For You

It began with a relic gone missing. A sword forged in blood and tears, the sword was said to have been used to lop off the head of a tyrannical emperor after he had used it to slaughter his own brothers, all six of them. 

It was a dangerous katana that required a calming ritual at every turn of the century to temper its blade, for it could turn the susceptible, the most innocent into murderous monsters. 

Stephen had been lucky to escape unharmed that morning when he awoke to the blade pressed against his throat, wielded by an invisible hand, controlled by long-range magic.

Stephen had been lucky Loki was there to banish the spectral intruder and restore the katana to its resting place in the Sanctum vault under lock and key. 

Reading the blade that had almost taken his human from him only led them back to Kamar-Taj, but the trail ended there. 

There was a traitor in their midst. 

"Nothing's going to happen to me." 

Or so Stephen kept insisting. 

Loki was no fool. It would take more than vapid assurances to assuage this urge in him to tear whoever dared harm a hair on Stephen's head limb from limb.

Wong thought it could be a Zealot who might have escaped from having to join Kaecilius on his eternal journey to be one with the Dark Lord Dormammu. 

Stephen made a sound argument of the low probability, seeing how the Dark Dimension was as good as sealed forever with the Book of Cagliostro gone, but Loki had disguised himself as one of them that very night and searched each and every Master, fellow and apprentice for the telltale mark on the forehead. 

If someone cared for his opinion, Loki thought Stephen was being too complacent with his life.

"Loki, I am not going to lock myself up in the Mirror Dimension!" 

Stephen had the gall to laugh at Loki's suggestion. For that, Loki did not speak to him for an entire day. 

As the night grew closer, Stephen had given up trying to apologise for something he did not believe he did wrong and resigned himself to the idea of attending the communal dinner at Kamar-Taj without his plus one. Sorcerer Supremes had traditionally been lonesome creatures, and initially Stephen even thought of himself as such. 

Until he met Loki. 

Stephen abhorred gossip. If the Sorcerer Supreme and the (reformed) God of Mischief were indeed an item, he would rather come clean about it than suffer salacious stories being passed around behind his back. 

But since Loki was a no-show, Stephen was going to suffer them for one more day, until he could figure out what to do...or what not to do. When it came to Loki, abstaining was just as important. 

So that was how Stephen had come to sit at the head of the table, flanked by a representative from the other two Sanctums. Wong had drawn the short straw by virtue of his being Stephen's second-in-command and sadly had to stay behind in New York.

A young man barely out of his teens came to the high table with a set of tea. 

“A new apprentice. I recruited him from the streets of Kowloon City,” Master Murata murmured in the Sorcerer Supreme’s ear. “I think he’s got potential.”

Stephen looked at the scabies burrows in the webs between the boy’s fingers, the badly damaged nails from a chronic nail-biting problem superimposed with a fungal infection. 

Must have been homeless, he deduced. Family problems? A runaway?

Stephen watched as the boy poured a pinkish golden liquid into the three cups in front of them. It glittered with edible gold petals. 

“Sour plum tea,” Master Murata nodded in approval. He held up his cup, “Here’s to our Sorcerer Supreme. May you live in interesting times.”

If the wording sounded odd, it could only be due to the Guardian of the Hong Kong Sanctum’s oriental heritage. 

Stephen surreptitiously waited for both Guardians to finish drinking first before raising his own cup to his lips to take his first sip.

"Sorcerer Supreme, there you are!"

"Wong?" Stephen's forehead furrowed at the sight of his friend marching down the dais toward him. "What are you doing here?"

Wong grabbed the cup out of the Sorcerer Supreme's hand and drank it all in one gulp. 

"That hit the spot," he declared, delicately fingering the corners of his lips. 

"M-Master Wong," Master Murata stammered. 

"What's gotten into you?" Stephen muttered. He held out the empty cup for a refill, but Wong quickly grabbed his wrist. "Wong!"

The apprentice scurried away with the tray; Wong followed the retreating form with his eyes until the boy disappeared amongst the dinner crowd. 

With a wide smile Stephen had never seen the likes of it on Wong’s face before, his best friend boldly grabbed him around the wrist and yanked him out of his seat. "This is simply no time to be drinking! Come, I have much to tell you!"

"It's just tea," Stephen grumbled, more curious than embarrassed at being manhandled in public.  

Just as they passed a few Masters in the hall, Wong stumbled and would have fallen had Stephen not caught his friend. 

“Really, Wong, one would think you had been imbibing…” Stephen's voice trailed off at the sight of perspiration dotting his friend's forehead. “Wong?”

“Take me to your room,” Wong grunted, and Stephen froze, for Wong’s voice suddenly sounded so much like -

“Loki?”

In the blink on an eye, Stephen teleported them to his room and Wong slowly sank to his knees with a soft, forlorn sigh; his form shimmered as all manner of glamour dropped, revealing Loki's shaking form. 

At the tell-tale shudder, Stephen quickly grabbed a trash can from under his desk and shoved it under Loki's head just in time to catch the first of his stomach contents. 

"Poison?"

Loki nodded frantically as another wave of extreme nausea surged up his gullet.

"But how? We were all drinking the same thing!" Stephen demanded.  

“It wasn't the tea,” Loki gasped. “It was the cup.” 

"If you knew it was poisoned, why couldn't you have just told me? Why did you have to drink it?" Stephen berated.

"Now you have evidence," Loki managed in between gasps. "Somebody was trying to kill you."

Loki lashed out a hand which his lover caught unthinkingly; into Stephen's palm Loki pressed the ceramic cup he had drunk from. 

"It's the lacquer," he wheezed; the pain raging in his stomach was making it difficult to breathe. "It...reacted with the gold leaf. Turned the tea."

Stephen stared at the object in his hand. True enough, the urushiol lacquer had corroded away, leaving behind a suspicious white deposit that had formed a sediment at the bottom of the cup. 

Loki had done it all on purpose...impersonating Wong, stealing Stephen's drink right under his nose and making sure everyone saw him drink out of the Sorcerer Supreme's cup -

And stumbling in the hallway with witnesses around had been in part an act, the rest of it very, very real...as real as the blood dribbling down Loki’s chin as his body tried to purge the poison. He heaved and heaved uncontrollably into the trash can, his long hair limp and matted to his scalp like a crown of thorns.

But before Stephen could hold his hair back for him, another violent cramp folded Loki in half, his desperate cry of the kind Stephen had never heard out of the God of Mischief before.

"Oh, Loki…" Stephen could not help but moan. "Why must you always do this?"

Loki shuddered and wiped the blood away with the back of his hand. He slowly sank to the floor, prostrating on the tatami mat, arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. 

"I'll live," he sighed. "You wouldn't have."

Stephen leveled his writhing lover with a frosty look. "What made you think I could live with this on my conscience?"

Loki's eyes fluttered to a close. "As long as you lived, I don't particularly care."

Stephen heaved a sigh of frustration and sickening anxiety. "What can I do?"

"Hang the perpetrators by their entrails, that would be a start," Loki groaned. He curled up as tightly as his cramping muscles would allow. "Norns!" 

Stephen rummaged through his apothecary cabinet and waved potion after potion of possible remedial value, only for every jar to be waved away. 

"I've purged it all." Loki bared teeth slick with blood in a grotesque grimace as he tried to breathe through the worst of the cramps. "It's just the sequelae now."

Tears sprang to Stephen's eyes as he dropped onto his knees next to his ill lover. "You are such a fool."

Loki chuckled weakly. "Ah yes, that I am. A fool for you."

A furious tear escaped and made its way down Stephen's cheek. He gathered Loki's long limbs in his arms and lifted the trembling figure gently into his lap, holding him upright. "I'm such a fool."

"Stephen, don't." Utterly exhausted, Loki could do no more than squeeze the protective arm around his neck. "I'm alright. Truly."

"I will find whoever did this," he heard Stephen vow in his ear and the tension drained out of Loki's body like water.

"Good," Loki hummed faintly. 

If putting himself in jeopardy was what it took to get Stephen to give a damn about his own life...then Loki had no objection whatsoever. Nor had he any objection to the comfortable weight of Stephen's hand on his aching belly, or to the healing magic furious at work, aiding the repair of any internal damage caused by the poison. 

"I am going to sleep now," Loki murmured, sagging in Stephen's embrace like a sack of bones. 

As Loki drifted off into a restorative slumber, he could hear Stephen mumble something in his ear. It sounded a lot like 'I love you', but Loki could not be sure.

Stephen was just going to have to say it again when next he awakened.

[elliestormfound]

Hiiiii Idk if you're still doing asks from the angsty prompt list but if you are, could I have; 6) Why are your eyes so red? With 14) should you be drinking that much? And as is my usual want, can it be angsty but resolve in comfort 👀😂 ❤️

thank you @hailhailsatan for the ask! I am always happy about these things, because these prompts really jumpstart my creativity! I hope it’s to your liking.

CW: post mountain fix-it, Jaskier is drunk, he is hurt and kinda depressed, but there is a happy ending

read on ao3

---

“Why are your eyes so red?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier jumped in surprise. He hadn’t noticed someone approaching his table. The bard was sitting in a shitty, dark and dirty tavern in a village in the middle of nowhere. His doublet was open but not in any attempt to seduce someone, just because he didn’t care. He had stopped caring after he stumbled down a mountain two weeks ago, angry words thrown at him still ringing in his ears.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jaskier huffed, “and why the fuck do you care? Life did finally give you the blessing of getting me off your hands. So fuck off and leave me be.”

Jaskier was strangely proud that he had managed - in spite of the bottle of cheap awful red wine he had already downed - to get this out without slurring the words - at least he thought so.

Geralt was silent for a moment, looking from the bard, who pointedly looked anywhere but at him, to his hands.

“Have you been crying?” Geralt asked quietly.

“Since when do you care?” Jaskier asked, “maybe I am just allergic to your stupid face. So fuck off before I shovel shit on you again, like I apparently did for the last 20 YEARS OF MY FUCKING USELESS LIFE.” His voice had gotten louder with every word.

Geralt flinched slightly as Jaskier threw the words he had said after the dragon hunt back at him. Geralt had tried to forget the awful things he said to the bard. But now the shame he had felt right after they left his mouth rose up in him again. 

The thing was that Jaskier had abstained from drinking any alcohol till tonight because he knew alcohol always enhanced his feelings. If he was happy, a few glasses of ale would make him jubilant, but if he was sad, angry or hurt (or all three at once), he would feel infinitely worse and cry for half the night. 

But because nothing else had worked to make him feel any better - singing, composing new songs, dancing, fucking - he thought a night getting pissed and crying his eyes out could maybe help to get all this misery out of his system. 

And at exactly this night Geralt of fucking Rivia, the one responsible for his horrible mood, decided to grace him with his presence and ask stupid questions. How was he supposed to forget him, when he was standing right in front of him?

“Jaskier,” Geralt began, unsure of what to say. After a moment he gestured vaguely to Jaskier and the table with the empty bottle of wine, “is this because of me?”

“Maybe it’s hard for you to understand,” Jaskier said, finally looking at the wither, pointing at his chest, “but not everything revolves around you. Not everything I do is because of you.”

Geralt furrowed his brows, pointing at an empty chair, “can I sit?”

“No, but you will do it anyway…” Geralt sat down, as Jaskier had predicted.

“Maybe I just like this fine establishment and the exquisite wine they serve here,” the bard said, gesturing around. 

Geralt just raised an eyebrow, “can I talk to you, Jaskier?”

“You are already talking to me, why ask now?”

“You don’t make this easy for me…” Geralt replied, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I don’t make it EASY FOR YOU?”, Jaskier started to raise his voice again, face red.

“You are right,” Geralt grumbled, lifting his hands in defeat “I am sorry, Jaskier, I am sorry for this, and for what I said on the mountain and for everything. I’ve been looking for you the past two weeks to apologize.”

The bard tried to focus his eyes on him, but couldn’t quite manage it. He leaned his head back at the wall, closing his eyes, “yeah, whatever.”

“Jaskier, did you hear me?”

Geralt could see that Jaskier rolled his eyes even with them closed, “yeah, I heard you, you are sorry… bla bla bla… I am not THAT drunk.” 

Jaskier opened his eyes as he heard footsteps and waved to the barmaid, shouting louder than strictly necessary, “another bottle of this fine wine, my lady.”

Geralt furrowed his brows again, “should you be drinking that much?”

“Are you my mother now?” the bard replied. 

They sat in silence for a while till the barmaid brought a dusty bottle of wine over, not bothering to get Geralt a glass. She waited with an outstretched hand till Jaskier placed a coin in it.

The bottle stayed untouched and for a while the two men sat in silence.

When Geralt had finally organized his thoughts and got up the nerve he said, “Jaskier, I wanted you at least to know that I did not mean any of the words I said to you on the mountain and that I am so sorry.” He was looking down at his hands and continued, “the thing with Yennefer… I was so hurt and I just wanted someone else to hurt as badly as I did and you were there…”

Jaskier stayed silent, so after a deep breath Geralt continued, “sorry, this is a shitty apology, I am… not good with words…” and more quietly, “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

“Maybe not,” the bard replied, breathing out slowly and continued, “but forgiveness is not about deserving but about choice. At least for me.” 

He had opened his eyes again, looking at Geralt. All the anger and rage he had felt just moments ago gone.

“And I chose to forgive you.”

Geralt looked up in surprise, the slightest hint of hope in his eyes.

“But…”

“No buts,” Jaskier said, “I am still hurt and I don’t think everything can or should go back to where it was before, but I was never able to stay mad at you for long...and I really missed you”, the last words were barely audible.

The witcher looked up in surprise. He had moved his chair closer to Jaskier without him noticing. They were sitting so close now that their elbows were brushing. After a moment Geralt turned to Jaskier and lifted his hand slowly to Jaskier’s face, softly brushing his thumb over the warm skin of his cheek. 

“I think I worked out what pleases me,” Geralt whispered, his face so close to the other’s that Jaskier could feel his warm breath on his skin.

Slowly but deliberately the witcher leaned closer, till their lips met, first just a light brush and after another breath more firmly. Geralt inhaled the familiar scent of his bard, something he had not realised he had missed, the scent of home. 

To his surprise the bard drew back after a moment. “Stop, Geralt,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” the witcher began, “I thought…”

“No, I mean yes, I want to kiss you,” Jaskier said, “but I want to be sober for this.” He gestured between them. 

With a hopeful smile Geralt asked, “so you will kiss me tomorrow?”

The bard laughed, a melodic sound Geralt had missed even more than his scent, “probably, if this is not some drunken hallucination of mine…”

With a grin Geralt got up, “I ask the barmaid for a room for the night.”

“I have a room already, we can share,” Jaskier said, and with a giggle, “like in the good old days.”

Geralt laughed, held out his hand for his bard and said, “like in the good old days.”

Read my (slightly) longer fics on ao3

[darksaphire2002]

How Leo Loves HC (part 3)

Hey y'all! Here's part three of Leonardo's romance headcanons! I'm so freaking tired right now, you have no idea how hard it was to finish this set. Oh well, enjoy!

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

(This set is focused on the trial and errors Leo faces while he seeks to confess his love for you. And let me tell you, I didn't make it easy for him lol.)

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

•Setting aside his lingering thoughts on the possibility of rejection, Leonardo decides to brainstorm ideas on how to confess to you.

•What did he know about you that would help him get a leg up on success?

•You were smart, gentle, beautiful, kind, funny, beautiful, motherly to Mikey, a good friend to April, beautiful....

•Getting off topic.

•Starting over.

•He wracked his brain for hours trying to come up with ways to convey his feelings for you.

•It can't possibly be this hard to tell someone you love them, can it?

•No. Telling someone you love them isn't difficult.

•Telling someone you're IN love with them is excruciatingly difficult.

•He meditates to relieve some of the clutter from his mind.

•It doesn't help much.

•Months go by without a decent idea. This is a nightmare.

•Finally a moment alone!

•"Y/N, you know I...I love!....I loved that book you lent me last week. It's awesome."

•He flubbed it.

•Leo paces in his room and mutters harshly to himself under his breath. He can't stand how cowardly he is.

•He tries again with a candlelight meditation session, knowing full well that you'd be nearby. You almost always were at that time.

•Fate intervenes. You had to stay late to work today.

•A frustrated grunt catches the ear of the ever watchful Splinter, but like every other time, he says nothing. The rat has faith in his son, but he knows that only Leo can forge his own path when it comes to matters of the heart.

•Days go by, nothing changes.

•Leonardo tries multiple times on the spur moment when an opportunity presents itself.

•Every attempt fails and could only be described as "pathetic."

•His confidence is shaken. He grows to quietly hate himself all over again.

•You're so perfect, and gentle, and kind...and beautiful.

•So very beautiful.

•Why was he even trying to confess to you!? Even though you were friends and you didn't treat him any differently than you would treat a regular human, there's no way you could ever possibly reciprocate such a deep, and desperate love.

•He gives up. And for the first time in his life, he doesn't resist his failure.

•Why would he? It was obvious from the start that such a heartfelt endeavor was a hopeless folly. This was how it should be. Humans aren't meant to fall in love with...whatever the hell he was.

•He abstained, and put it out of his mind. Put you out of his mind.

•Everything continued just as it had since the day they all met you.

•No more confession attempts.

•No more emotions.

•He spent less time with you and it got easier as the days went on. He had resisted the things he desired in the past before, and in time, he overcame his urges for it.

•He can do it again.

•In a few weeks, things had returned to normal.

•He stopped following you on dates. He no longer watched you from your window. He no longer listened to your breathing as you slept.

•It was over.

•The lair had once again gained some sense of normalcy. And it lasted for several months.

•Until you were late coming home from work. You had phoned April saying that you had had a hard day and weren't going to be joining them.

•There had been a major car accident outside the store where you worked that day. People had died. Children had died. It was all over the news and police scanners.

•He had worried for your safety, they all did, but those fears were set aside after you had called to tell them you were alright.

•He could hear it in your words though. The slight hum of added weight behind your tone of voice.

•You weren't alright.

•Within minutes, he was on your balcony. It wasn't hard to slip away from the lair unnoticed. All he had to do was say he was going to meditate and the others wouldn't bother him. On top of that, you lived relatively close to the lair. He could be there and back within a half hour. Nobody would even notice he was gone.

•Splinter noticed.

•He gently tapped at your window.

•No response.

•Leo slipped in cautiously, glancing around for you.

•He found you in the kitchen chopping vegetables. There was a short glass of brown liquid perched next to you on the counter and a quarter empty bottle of tequila on the dining table.

•You had been drinking.

•He eyed you silently for a moment. He had been quiet coming in, but he made enough noise for you to discern his presence. You knew he was there.

•It wasnt long before he noticed your reflection in the kitchen window. Your shirt was completely stained with blood.

•"Y/N!"

•"It's not mine." You said softly.

•There was a dullness to your voice that made Leo's heart sink. He knew that feeling. The pain that comes from having to watch people suffer when you know there's nothing you can do about it.

•He was feeling that same pain in that very moment as he watched you.

•Without a word, his arms were around your shoulders, his face in your hair.

•"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. I won't leave you tonight." He murred softly against your ear.

•You cried. Leo could feel your core shaking. You faced true horror today, and you faced it alone.

•He would not leave your side tonight. He would not abandon you a second time.

•Leo reached down and gently freed the cutting knife from your stiff grip. Your knuckles were white. You had been clutching the handle so tightly that you hand had gone cold.

•He turned you slowly to face him.

•You wouldn't meet his gaze.

•He could plainly see the tear stains on your cheeks and the redness in your eyes. You looked horrible.

•...and so very beautiful.

•Cupping your face in his large hands, he lifts your gaze to meet his.

•There was no light behind your eyes. You were completely checked out.

•A morbid flurry of sorrow, concern, understanding, and guilt washed over him. If he hadn't turned his back on you, you might have come to him to grieve instead of locking yourself up in your kitchen with only a bottle of liquor for comfort.

•His eyes narrowed slightly as he watched you. The soft tresses of your hair ghosting over his fingers.

•"There were children lying in the street. I couldn't-....I tried." Your voice was hoarse and weak from crying.

•Leo's gut twisted. He didn't know your sweet voice could sound this way. So broken.

•He shifted slightly "I know. You don't have to try anymore, Y/N. It's over now."

•His lips were on your eyelids, gently kissing them closed.

•You leaned slightly into his touch for a moment before completely slumping against him. All the strength you had left in you suddenly nonexistent.

•In an instant, you were in his arms, your head buried in the crook of his shoulder.

•He moves you to the living room, laying you down gently on the couch before taking a seat next to you on the floor.

•He softly strokes your back, a calm silence overtaking the room. It was dimly lit, the only light coming from the kitchen down the hall.

•You breathed softly, and it reminded him of a time several months prior when he would sneak into your room at night and listen to you sleep.

•He remembered how that felt. So desperately wishing to be near you that he would betray his own honor to be by your side while you dreamt.

•It overcame him.

•"Y/N."

•"..Hnn?"

•"I love you."

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

HOLY SHIT THIS WAS A TOUGH ONE!!

I'm a little disappointed that it reads like more of a fic than a HC, but I still really like how it turned out.

I just couldn't see Leo's confession as a spur of the moment thing OR a planned out affair. Leo doesn't do cheap moments. I wanted it to feel natural. I hope you guys liked it!

💙💙💙💙💙

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

[lurafita]

Peter/Avengers, dub/con, captivity, Part three

TAGGING PEOPLE DIDN’T WORK! I don’t know why, but everytime I tried tagging someone, tumblr suddenly redirected me to their blog, instead of just writing down the name. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what the issue is. I have got in contact with support and am awaiting their answer, but until then, I hope you were still able to find this part! Again, so sorry!

Read Part 1: here

Read Part 2: here

People, heed the tags for upcoming parts in this story.

kidnapping, dub/con, captivity, chains, bondage, obsessive Avengers, Peter/Everyone, darkly soft Avengers (in the sense that they hold Peter captive, but only want to love and protect him), non-powered Peter, dark-ish Avengers, 18+ Peter, Clint is not married and has no kids, Tony is not in a relationship with Pepper.

(I feel like a cheat for tagging these things, even though I still haven’t gotten to the juicy bits in this fic...)

Part 3

Peter had long since retired, when the others gathered in the common floors living room, to further discuss the bomb the younger man had dropped on them mere hours ago.

Clint was waving his phone around wildly. “Australia is the most poisonous continent in the world! There are frogs that can kill you! Frogs!”

Bruce was frowning deeply. “The climate is drastically different there. Neither his body, nor his immune system will easily adapt. Petey could develop numerous illnesses because of that.”

Sam was likewise shaking his head. “Pumpkin doesn't have the physicality for weeks long hiking in the jungle. He may be good at parkour, but that is still miles away from the terrain that will await him in the underbrush.”

Steve made a sound like a wounded animal. “Don't remind me of that particular hobby of his, please. I still have nightmares from that video he showed us.”

Tony threw back his scotch. “Six months. Possibly longer. Sweetheart shouldn't be away from us for such a long time. Shouldn't be away at all.”

Bucky was pacing, the Winter Soldier clawing at his very being. “There isn't enough Intel. We don't know the people that would be part of his group. Don't know the terrain. Can't predict the conditions. Can't entrust Doll to strangers. Not safe.”

Natasha was stoically silent, though her face was stormy.

Thor looked contemplative. “...Then maybe we shouldn't let him go.”

The others stilled, all looking at the Asgardian.

“Hate to break it to you, L'Oreal, but I already tried bribing the University's board, in order to make them reject Stoddard's little excursion. No dice. Figures Peter would attend the one university in this stupid city that holds academic achievements in a higher regard than funding.”

A snort of pure disgust left the billionaires mouth, as he stood up to refill his glass.

But Thor shook his head. “I'm not saying to not let other people embark on this quest. I'm saying not to let Peter go.”

Steve wrung his hands. “We can't exactly keep him from going...”

Thor raised a challenging eyebrow. “Why not? He is a lovely creature, but he is not blessed with strength and battle prowess like the rest of us are. I imagine it would be quite easy to keep him here.”

The others looked around them uncomfortably.

“It's not that we wouldn't be capable of keeping him here, Thor, so much as that we... shouldn't...do something like this.” Sam awkwardly rubbed his neck.

“... Why shouldn't we?” But this time the question didn't come from Thor, but from Bucky.

Nervously wiping his hands over his thighs, Bruce tried to give reason to his words, while the Hulk was roaring in agreement with the Winter Soldier.

“It's... We can't... Peter isn't a child. Or a pet. … We have no right to just... keep him.”

Natasha spoke for the first time, her voice even.

“Don't we? Haven't we taken him in? Haven't we taken care of him for the last year? Aren't we the ones most responsible for his safety and well being? You just counted off all the dangers awaiting Lastashka if he joins this excursion. It's not safe. And he is ours to protect.”

Tony slowly set down his glass, eyes going back and forth during his inner debate.

“It's not like we would be doing something bad... He needs us. He can barely remember to feed himself.”

Clint gave him a sardonic look for that.

“Yeah, I'm not gonna comment on how very hypocritical that is coming from you. But you are right. Last week he almost fainted, because he wanted to finish his thesis, and didn't sleep for two days straight.”

Tony's head shot up at this.

“What? Why didn't I know about this? Friday? I thought I told you to keep an eye on my Sweetheart's sleeping schedule.”

“Peter asked me not to inform you of this, when I attempted to get him to sleep. He said it wouldn’t be a regular occurrence, and that after he finished with his work, he wouldn't have to neglect his rest so severely again. Since you yourself have abstained from sleep on far more occasions, I promised Peter discretion on the matter.”

Dammit!

Clint simply pointed to him.

“See? Hypocrite. But this just helps to prove the fact that Pete isn't very good at taking care of himself. And we can't leave him to a bunch of nerdy strangers. Nat is right. He is ours to protect.”

Bucky nodded along with this reasoning, as Sam pursed his lips.

“It's not like there is any guarantee that this plant this professor is looking for will really cure the disease, right? It's not worth it for Pumpkin to risk his health, possibly even his life, on a fools errand.”

Bruce couldn't ignore the words of his friends,and the desires of himself and the Hulk, any longer.

“I have been on such fruitless excursions during my time in university. I remember the hopeful anticipation in the beginning. And the crushing devastation when we came back empty handed. I would like to spare Petey such an experience.”

Steve held up his hands.

“Whoa, whoa, guys. You aren't seriously considering,- what? Kidnapping Peter? Keeping him locked up here with us?”

Bucky spoke before anyone else could.

“He would be safe here. We can protect him. Care for him. Love him.”

Natasha nodded.

“We won't hurt him. He won't understand or like it, at first. But he will come around.”

Tony carefully chimed in.

“It will take some time. Patience. Affection. But... since everyone will be thinking he is gonna be in the depths of the Australian underbrush for at least half a year...”

Clint was already a step ahead.

“The Tower is listed as Peter's official address, and Tony and Bruce as the overseers of his internship. It wouldn't be suspicious if one of them called the university the day of the groups departure, to report that Peter can't make it due to sudden injury or illness.”

Sam hopped right on.

“They will want to catch a very early flight, won't they? It's a bit of a trip to another continent. We could throw a little 'Good-bye' party for Pete. Invite his friends and aunt. Tell everyone one of us would drive him to the airport the next morning...”

A thoughtful crease appeared between Bruce's eyebrows.

“The professors usually tell the students and volunteers in their group to leave things like their cellphones at home. There is rarely opportunity to charge the battery, and if you are deep in the jungle, there is no reception anyway. So no one would be expecting to hear from him before the excursion team gets back. By that time,... surely Petey won't want to leave us again.”

Steve took a step forward.

“Okay, stop. Do you realize what you are talking about? We can't do this.”

“Don't you love him?” Thor's usually booming voice was quite, almost a whisper.

Steve nodded. “Of course I do. But-”

“Don't you wish to protect him? To know that he is safe?” Sam added.

“I do. But that doesn't mean-”

“Haven't things been so much better since he came to live with us? We have all been more careful during missions, taking less risks, causing less damage, because we know Peter is here, waiting for us to come back.” Clint threw in.

“I-”

“Peter was underweight when he started living here, you know? He got some acid on his shirt, and had to change out of it. I could count his ribs back then. His clothes don't look like they are his two heads taller brother’s hand-me-downs any longer, because we have made sure that he eats regularly. Do you think anyone else will do that for him in Australia?” Bruce asked.

“They.. no, they probably wouldn't..”

“You have been drawing more, since Peter found some of your older sketches. It has helped you relax. Been a way for you to deal with the things we have been through. I know half of your sketchbook is full of drawings of him. Do you really think you can go back to before? Capture other motifs on paper? Be without your muse for six whole months, and possibly longer?” Bucky implored.

“I didn't think of that.... I... I couldn't...”

“When I was a child, I have never been allowed to want something. We were weapons, there was no room for wishes. I have gotten to experience friendship and trust since then, and maybe it is selfish to ask for more. But I want more, Steve. I want Peter. I want him to be here with us, not somewhere in some jungle that might take him from us. My trainers kept me from wanting then, will this world's ideal of morality still keep me from wanting now?” She looked at him with eyes fuller of emotion than they had ever been.

“Natasha, I... no, of course you are allowed to want-”

“I don't care if I'm being selfish. We are heroes, Steve. Earth's mightiest defenders, isn't that what they call us? We go out there and fight everyone's enemies. People are safe because of us. But I will tell you right now, the only reason I have been able to sleep through a whole night recently, is Peter. I have seen so much shit in my life, Steve. Before the Avengers were ever formed, and then even more after we got this little superhero boy-band together. I used to tinker in my lab for days on end, because I knew that at one point my body would shut down on its own, and I would get the sleep I needed, with only the minimum of all the delightful nightmares my ptsd ridden brain could come up with. But ever since Peter has been here, it's better. I go to bed thinking about the way his eyes light up, whenever I show him a new upgrade for a current project, instead of the wide open eyes of the dead child we were too late to safe. I'm able to sleep dreaming about the noises he would make, if I bit the nape of his neck just so, instead of recalling flying a nuke through a portal and falling to what was supposed to be my death. Don't try to tell me you haven't had similar experiences with him. Don't try to lie about this. We deserve to be selfish with the person we love.”

“I, I know, Tony. I'm not saying that I don't understand...” The protest was feeble, weak. Steve was already more than halfway convinced.

“In Asgard, Peter would be called a 'Melmir'. A gift. Something to be kept to ourselves and safe at all cost.” Thor had stood, stepping closer to his friend.

“Peter isn't a thing.”

“I did not mean to imply such. A treasure needs not be an object to be called precious. Peter is precious, is he not?”

Steve looked determinedly into the eyes of his taller friend.

“He is.”

Then the super soldier looked at his teammates around him. His friends. And he saw his own feelings reflected in their eyes.

“And he is ours.”

______________________________________________________________

Read Part 4: here

Yeah, so this part was supposed to dive right into the chains and captivity and other stuff that I promised, but then I got caught up in the dialouge and, well....

I do hope you still liked it though. I will try to be faster with the next part.

[beeshavethrees]

A/B/O-verse Worldbuilding

Since I've recently gotten back to writing for my A/B/O fic Peppermint Perfume, I wanted to share some of the biological side of things that isn't heavily touched on in the fic, especially because some things differ from your standard A/B/O AU. This isn't at all necessary to understand the fic, but it's always fun to worldbuild, so I figured I'd share! :) Also, please don't take this scientifically, as I am not a biologist. I did my time in biology/lab, and now I'm out and do not want to go back; I'm also fairly sure I retained absolutely nothing from that experience outside of a vivid memory of the sensation of slimy agarose gel covering my hands. As such, this does not reflect anything actually rooted in science, haha. It's just a take on your standard A/B/O verse.

Check it out under the cut!

In this AU, the A/B/O designation serves as a secondary determination (I'm using "phenotype" because that's how I've seen it described before by other fanfic writers, and how it's used in my fic, but that's not exactly the proper term for it) beyond sex for an individual, with such characteristics really only arising with puberty. Alphas get an extra boost in their muscles, for example, as teens -- although it is worth noting that omegas don't usually begin their heats until around their early twenties when they're mostly physically developed.

Alphas, betas, and omegas all have slightly different scents and senses of smell that counteract the other's. Alphas have earthier, herbal scents and are generally better at picking out some particular pheromones from others (allowing them to pick up fear, etc. better), part of the reason why they're naturally protective of others as they can sense when something is wrong, but this also makes them good at sizing up their competition. They're also instinctively protective in any case -- if they have the ability to protect others, why shouldn't they? In general, they also are more likely to have a stronger sense of smell than others, but Thomas' case is still quite the outlier. This is in part why they're stereotyped as being a bit overbearing, but serving as good leaders and protective mates.

Omegas, conversely, have very sweet and fruity scents. They're still capable of picking out pheromones like alphas can, but are better at picking up the scents associated with fear and pain as a protection mechanism. Overall, they are also very good with picking up unrelated environmental scents, making them both good therapists and good with food-related jobs. This is also why they're stereotyped as working best with other people, particularly children.

Finally, betas have a notably minty scent to themselves and actually have a worse sense of smell than alphas and omegas; their pheromones also naturally cancel out those of others, making them good in jobs that require them to be quick-thinking, unbiased, and level-headed. Many go into health-related jobs! This leads them to be stereotyped as more intellectually-oriented than some others.

A lot of this ties back into the nature of omegas and their heats. As mentioned earlier, omegas have their first heat in their early twenties, usually after a few cycles in the months prior of having short pre-heats (periods leading into a heat where an omega will exhibit some symptoms of their body prepping for heat). For female omegas, their heats will occur a few times a year when they're more fertile, and can affect her menstrual cycle for that month.

For male omegas, their heats will often correspond to when their partners are more fertile (if their partner has such organs that they have a menstrual cycle -- for simplicity, I mostly use "female" for this, although there are always cases such as intersex individuals and those who have wacky situations due to genetics being weird); if their partner does not have regular cycles, or doesn't ovulate for whatever reason (they're a male, or otherwise they have something preventing this), their heat cycles will usually fall to occurring at a predictable time every few months, but can still change with their partner's situation. If nothing else influences them, some omegas will have shorter but more frequent heats, and others might have very few longer heats a year. Although a female is fertile more frequently than an omega would normally have their heats, they won't suddenly have more common heats; those heats simply serve as a back-up to ensure they're more likely to parent children at some point.

Omegas who are unbonded have stronger and longer heats from their bodies basically saying "come fuck this!" and physically respond more to the scent of an alpha, although heats are physically taxing and as such only occur a few times a year. In the case of male omegas, they're more likely to have a submissive attitude towards sex, and are biologically more capable of being on the receiving end (so to speak) than males of other phenotype -- and to some extent, this has its roots in biology (checking that other males are able to perform, for example, or even helping to reduce competition and infighting). Because of an omega's heat and how they work, in the modern day there are viable products that create synthetic chemicals that mimic alphan pheromones, particularly as this makes heats shorter and easier. Omegas who have been with an alpha for some time will in fact fall into cycles of having much, much milder heats (such as spending a few days tired and slightly more horny) simply because they have a mate and can take matters into their own hands from there, so there's no point in undergoing a taxing cycle for no reason. For omegas in relationships with betas or other omegas, again, synthetics are available, although regular sex does to some extent help in any case. Similarly, something similar to birth control exists to help inhibit cycles by providing doses of the hormones produced in response to being with an alpha, although some omegas have difficulty getting this without some sort of partner (laws are in place to protect those who are asexual or have a reason to abstain from intercourse/have medical issues that necessitate medication). The specifics vary between male and female omegas, but they generally will impact heats, and for female omegas, can be specially manufactured to also stop them from getting pregnant.

Male omegas cannot get pregnant, although female alphas can; both male omegas and female alphas are born slightly less commonly than female omegas and male alphas. Male omegas are still stronger than female omegas, and male alphas are stronger than female alphas (betas falling in the middle). In terms of the evolution behind this, male omegas had many of the benefits of being omegan (promoting copulation through heats, having a better sense of smell for sensing sickness or rotten food) while still being strong enough to provide protection for other omegas and those caring for the young. Conversely, female alphas would also provide some strength and protection even if being down for the count from childbirth. Female omegas and male alphas are generally the most fertile.

Again, betas fall somewhere in the middle of everything, and are very good at falling into empty roles to fill them, when it comes to actually reproducing. However, day-to-day in society, betas still maintain their more clear cut roles and areas of expertise. There isn't exactly a hierarchy -- an omega is not below a beta or an alpha -- but each phenotype will trend towards certain roles in society and can have harmful stereotypes associated with that, hence why you have cases where omegas are turned down simply because they won't "fit" in the environment of working a particular condition.

This got really long, oops. It's also not very organized. But I just wanted to throw out some thoughts, in case someone found them interesting, or just as future reference for myself. I also pulled all this together from my own ideas and a few different fics I've read in the past, so I hope it's an interesting take, but one that's still rooted in familiarity. ^^

[davidcarner]

Aces, Charles Ch 2, Know When To Walk Away

A/N: (Me before Ch 1 to a couple of friends) No, I shouldn't do this, no one will like it. (3 hours later) You were right, I was wrong…So we're here, for the second chapter. Two things, there will be some angst, in fact this chapter ends with some angst, but IT'S ME. No third party, no stupid love triangle, just life stuff getting in the way. Give it a bit to breathe, I know exactly how it ends, we'll just all enjoy the time together. (There will probably be all sorts of fluff by the end) Second, my brain thinks, Chuck and Sarah, but in this fic, she is Jenny Burton. So if you see Sarah, send me a PM, tweet, tumblr, something, because I messed up, and those who look it over did too.

Also, if you're not familiar with poker, the names I use are actual poker players, and their histories are arcuate as far as I can corroborate. It's time for Aces, Charles Ch 2, Know When to Walk Away.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, or poker, but I do prefer Razz when I play…

Chuck sat in the car and watched as the Las Vegas strip went by. He could have taken a plane back, but he liked to ride in the car, it let him think, let his mind wander, that's where some of his best game ideas came from. He thought back to his childhood, to his mom and dad. He thought about the day his sister got that fateful call about their parents who died serving their country. He thought about how members of the government had stepped in and kept Ellie and himself from ending up in a foster home. He thought about how the man currently driving, John Casey, agreed to be the foster parent to the two Bartowski children, and somehow, the man who preferred to communicate through grunting had become a father figure to him, and to Ellie.

He thought about Stanford and the time he had there. He thought briefly about Bryce and Jill. He hoped they were happy, and then a moment later he hoped they had some type of venereal disease. He left Stanford with his degree, and he and his little bearded friend had come up with a couple of video game ideas, the biggest one called The Intersect. It was an RPG, featuring a nerd who had a computer program upload into his head, but you could only access information as you leveled up. It's sequel, The Intersect 2.0, included physical combat skills. He and Morgan had made a killing off of the idea.

With money flowing in hand over fist, and Chuck now overseeing many employees, he was becoming quite famous. Fame had it's advantages and disadvantages…Chuck now had many women who wanted to date him, that was an advantage, Chuck now had many women who wanted to date him, that was a disadvantage. He had no idea who was out for his money, and who wasn't. Casey had taken over his social life because of this, and Chuck was positive this was some sort of punishment for crimes he had committed in a previous life.

Casey vetted everyone Chuck wanted to date. He had to believe that government agents weren't vetted this much. Chuck tried to talk to Ellie about it, but she was siding with Casey on this one. Casey wasn't completely overboard…yeah he was. It was Casey, and one thing about John Casey, whatever he did, he was going to do it well. Chuck thought it was going to take presidential approval and an act of congress for him to play in the high stakes game in Bobby's room. He didn't know how many phone calls were made as soon as he stepped foot in the door, but he hadn't been expecting one of the players to show up…Jenny Burton.

Chuck loved poker, it was math, luck, and adrenaline. He didn't like to be scared for his life, but Chuck did enjoy excitement, the uncertainty, and even the small sense of adventure. The math, just made his inner nerd squee with joy, and the luck…it just spiked the adrenaline. To make all the right plays and still get drawn out on…it was so awful when you were the one getting drawn out on, but it was like mana from heaven when you drew out on someone else. As much as Chuck loved poker, he really started to enjoy it more when Jenny Burton, "The Ice Queen," was seen on ESPN all last summer at the World Series of Poker Main Event. Her ability to read people and make moves was eliciting the name Stu Unger, the man many considered to be the greatest No Limit Hold 'em poker player of all time. It wasn't that Chuck didn't think she was attractive, no the woman was beautiful, but she had an ability that he just respected. The story of a former card dealer that had worked her game slowly over the years, grinding to become one of the best in the world, it was awe inspiring. He had admiration and respect for her that words couldn't convey.

When Chuck entered Bobby's Room, he had expected some of the names, Phil Ivey, Doyle Brunson, Scotty Nguyen, Johnny Chan, Billy Baxter, and many others, but when Jenny Burton walked through the door and sat down beside him…Chuck didn't know what to do. The first few hands, he folded, just to see how she would play. She made money over the first several hands, without ever showing her cards, and when she did, she had the goods. Chuck knew better. He knew she was appearing tight early. He studied every move she made, because the only way to get better is to study, especially when the master was teaching a class right beside him.

There were always rumors about Jenny. She had a problem at blackjack, or roulette, at least that was the rumor. She was frequently seen in the low money games grinding, building her bankroll, and no one knew why, because they rarely saw her lose, and when they did it was never in consecutive sessions. Why couldn't she hang on to her bankroll, no one knew? Drugs were another belief, but as Chuck watched her, she abstained from alcohol at the table, and always did her best to stay away from the cigarette smoke. After a few minutes, he couldn't believe the cocaine rumors, so where did her money go, because she was a machine. She went head to head with some of the best NLH players in the world, and won.

As the night went on, Chuck found himself winning, and winning big. He was the big winner, and the second biggest was Jenny. She seemed almost personally affronted by it as well; he was sure it was because he was an amateur. She wasn't mean to him, or showed him any disrespect, but every time she looked at his stack, she would shake her head.

"My eyes are up here," Chuck said once to her when they were both out of a hand. Jenny was caught off guard, and nearly choked on her water she was drinking. "I see you admiring my stack."

"It is a very nice stack," she said, laughing.

"You gonna take it to dinner first?" he said. "I'm sorry, I've never played this many straight hours, and I'm making terrible, inappropriate jokes." She studied him a moment and then leaned in.

"Tip from a pro, never tell someone that," she said. "Don't give anyone that edge." She leaned back. Chuck nodded.

"Thank you," he said.

"When I win it later, I'll treat it right," she said, winking at him. She waited until he was taking a drink before saying it, making Chuck nearly choke on his water. They shared a smile, and then the cards came out, and it was back to business.

"Will you shut up back there!" Casey yelled, pulling Chuck out of his thoughts.

"What are you talking about, Casey?" he asked. "I haven't said a word."

"Your lady feelings are about to smother me," Casey said. "What happened a pretty girl tell you you're good at poker?"

"Nope, played right beside Jenny Burton all night, and busted her," Chuck said.

"You're happy you busted a lady?" Casey asked. Chuck opened his mouth to speak and then shut it, knowing there was nothing he could say to this one. "Moron." Casey didn't say anything for a few miles and Chuck started to go back to his thoughts when Casey started back up. "You mean Jenny Burton, WSOP Main Event Final Table, Jenny Burton, you busted her at a cash game?"

"Yes," Chuck said.

"Bartowski, she's a poker player, she was probably smiling at you to get you to make some bigger bets so you could buy her groceries for the next few years," Casey said. Chuck stayed quiet. "Fine, I'll vette her."

"Casey, do you have to vette every woman I see? You do know that the majority of them don't want me for my money."

"Chuck," Casey began, and he knew this was serious, because he rarely called him Chuck. "Even if it was only one in a hundred that wanted you for your money I'd do it, to protect you."

"Thank you, Casey," Chuck began.

"But, it's probably only one in a hundred that don't want you for your money," Casey continued.

"And, there it is," Chuck said. "A perfectly heartfelt moment…Caseyfied."

}o{

Chuck sat in a meeting listening. He usually came in dressed in what many would call business casual. It was a video game company in LA, some employees came in wearing shorts, a tank top, and flip flops, and he didn't care. All he cared about was what they could produce, and what they produced was hit after video game hit. Today, Chuck didn't care. He hadn't shaved in days, he was wearing an Atari tee shirt, jeans, and his Chucks. It had been almost two months since the night at Bobby's Room. He kept thinking Jenny would come after him to win her money back, but she hadn't called. He had heard she was following the World Poker Tour, not to play in tournaments, but to hit some of the cash games. How much of a bankroll did she need to challenge him?

"What do you think, Chuck?" Morgan asked.

"I think Intersect 3.0 won't happen unless we can think of a better plot than the nerd is turned into a Bond like character. Having to play the games at the casinos, seduction, but not over the top, just enough to tranq or get info, but we can't have sex in the games. The other two weren't mature and this can't be either. Also you'd need to include a skill set for driving; cars, boats, airplanes, and of course, a jet pack," Chuck said, staring out the window the whole time. The room was silent and Chuck turned back to see everyone scribbling furiously.

"YOU ARE A GENIUS!" Morgan yelled. Chuck sat there, confused.

"Uh, licensing?" Chuck said.

"I'll run it by our lawyers, but I don't think it will be a problem, especially since we're using our own character, very special agent Charles Carmichael," Morgan said. "Okay, folks, you know what to do." With that, everyone filed out, and Chuck went to looking back out the window.

"I know that look," a voice said from the door. Chuck looked over and smiled. There stood a lanky, taller, richer, retired nerd. "I had the same look on my face just before I called it and cashed in."

"There's no excitement," Chuck said. "However, I am not rolling in money like you are Phil." Phil Gordon had joined Netsys Technologies as their first employee, and had made a bundle when it was acquired by Cisco Systems in 1996. In 1997, he retired to travel and play poker. To say Chuck was a little jealous was an understatement.

"If you're standing still, you're moving backwards," Phil said. Chuck grinned at him. "Let's go to the Bike, I want to talk with you."

"We can talk here," Chuck said, grinning.

"Yeah, but I can make some more money there," he said.

}o{

"You seriously should enter some of the limit tournaments," Phil said later. "I mean you are a genius at Razz." Chuck shrugged. The two had played for hours, with no actual talk between them. They were up several thousand dollars, and Chuck wondered what it would be like just doing this every day. It was a fun distraction, but he was still missing something.

"So Vegas has been talking about you," Phil said. Chuck gave him a look. "People are losing money hand over fist with prop bets about when you're coming back."

"So you're here to win a prop bet?" Chuck asked, grinning, and raking in another pot.

"Nope, I've already lost," Phil said. "Chuck, talk to me, I get both of these worlds. I know how lonely things can be, and I've heard what happened in Bobby's Room. You melted the Ice Queen, and everyone is in shock."

"I don't know what you mean." Chuck said, shrugging.

"Don't quit your day job for poker," Phil said, laughing. "You are terrible at lying." Chuck couldn't help but laugh. "You got to her, and no one…Chuck, NO ONE, has been able to get to her. You said more to her in five minutes than anyone has in five years." Chuck looked at him. Phil grinned. "Some of us got a copy of the surveillance video after you left, and you can hear what you two said." Phil started putting his chips in a carrier to go cash out. "Do you have the stones to make the move? You've won at everything else, you're looking for your greatest challenge?"

"Phil, I'm not after some fling," Chuck said.

"Do you think I'd be here if you were?" Phil asked, humor in his eyes. "Chuck, you're one of the best guys I know. That lady, has been through something, but she opened up to you. Make the move. Go all-in. I'll see you. I need to get back to Vegas, the WPT starts tomorrow and I need to see about winning a tournament."

"Good luck, Phil," Chuck said. Phil stood, paused, and laid a hand on Chuck's shoulder.

"She's reloaded her bank roll," he said, and left. Chuck sat there, until the dealer asked him what he wanted to do. He folded, cashed out, and went home.

}o{

Chuck walked in the door to his townhouse.

"Where the hell have you been!?" Casey yelled.

"Good to see you to, Honey," Chuck said. Casey was watching a war documentary. "I got us a couple of steaks," he said, showing him the bag. "And, baked potatoes." Casey grunted and followed him to the kitchen.

"Chuck, how am I supposed to protect you if you don't tell me where you go?" Casey growled. Chuck turned to him.

"Phil Gordon and I went to the Bike to play cards and talk," he said. Casey rolled his eyes.

"Did you get your lady feelings sorted out, or are you gonna mope more?" Casey asked. Chuck was shocked. "You do remember my job."

"Casey, what you are doing is so outside your job description," Chuck began.

"Then fire me," Casey snapped. Chuck gave him a look of "are you serious?"

"Casey, even if I fired you, you'd do it all anyway and help yourself to my beer, hotpockets, and TV whenever you want," Chuck said. Casey looked a tiny bit ashamed…or maybe it was gas.

"Yeah, I would," Casey said. "You've been hurt enough, kid. I know, I know, I go too far, but kid, if you get your heart broke again…I'm afraid you wouldn't make it."

"Casey, that may be the sweetest thing-" Chuck began.

"And then this plush gig would be over," Casey finished, taking a swig of beer giving Chuck a look.

"And, there it is," Chuck said, taking his own swig of beer but knowing what Casey actually meant. "Another moment Caseyfied." The two stood silently for a moment, a comfortable silence. How one emotionally stunted man had been so changed by the two Bartowskis, he would never know. Ellie and Chuck were Casey's kids, and he was going to protect them from all the heartache he could. However, if he kept this up, Chuck would resent him. Casey sighed.

"I find nothing terrible on her," Casey said. Chuck started to ask who, but Casey just gave him the, "I'm not an idiot look." "She's a poker player, and I think she hasn't called because she wants a whale, on her turf. Yeah you stay in a luxury hotel room, but it's not home for you , and it gives her the slightest edge and that's what makes the great ones. Call her, because if you don't I'm not going to be able to take dealing with you over Christmas. It's bad enough I got to watch those stupid Twilight Zone marathons anyway," Casey complained, wandering off.

"I love you too, Casey," Chuck said, smiling at the other man walking off. He grunted, and kept going. Chuck pulled out his phone and made the call.

}o{

Jenny looked down at her phone, and saw who it was. Part of her was excited; this might fix all her problems, another part of her….it wasn't excited at all, in fact, this is exactly why she hadn't called him.

"Hello," Jenny said.

"Jenny, Chuck Bartowski," he said.

"Who?" she asked, grinning.

"You know, Chuck Bartowski, the guy you gave way too much money to for his iPod," Chuck said, hoping to make her laugh. He sat there wondering if he said too much. A soft laugh came over the phone.

"I don't know if you're aware of this Chuck, but I have this thing called caller ID, and it tells me who is calling," she said, grinning.

"So you were messing with me," he said.

"Yep, if you're not in my phone, I don't answer," she said.

"Glad I'm in there," he said, and clanged his head against the wall immediately. He shouldn't have said that. He knew better.

"Don't do anything stupid, and you'll stay in there," she answered. She closed her eyes. What was she thinking, was that flirting!? She needed to change the subject quickly. "So did you call me to gloat about scamming me for this iPod?"

"The reason I'm calling is there's a cash game gonna start in a few days at the Bike, and I wanted to see if you wanted a chance to win some of your money back."

"LA?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"There's some games going on here starting tomorrow," she offered.

"Oh," Chuck said, thinking back to what Casey said. "I can't really get down there right now." Chuck lied, he knew he could get down there, but she said she'd come see him, was Casey right?

"Sorry, Chuck, still haven't built back my bankroll enough to feel comfortable coming up there with it," she said. "You know how it goes, ebbs and flows, right now is an ebb." Chuck was silent a second. Why would Phil lie to him? Answer, he didn't. Casey was right. She was only after him because he was a whale and she thought he was easy pickings on her turf. This was about a poker game, and nothing more.

"Okay, well, good luck, if you ever manage to build it back up, let me know," he said, a bit coolly. Jenny heard it in his voice, he knew he didn't trust her. Chuck Bartowski shouldn't trust her, hell, no one should trust her. No one should trust any Burton, ever. Or, maybe she was wrong. Maybe he had gotten through but didn't deserve to. The one guy that made her way through her defenses, she was sure was the right guy, and now, she was wrong. That never happened. She had to end this, for both of their sakes.

"Good-bye, Chuck," she said.

"Bye," he said and hung up. She started messing with her phone.

"What are you doing?" the guy with her asked. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a roll of bills and handed it to him.

"This make us even?" she asked. He started counting and she kept messing with her phone until she was satisfied. He looked up and nodded. "I deleted that guy's contact, that way I won't know his number if he calls back and won't answer. I'll listen to his message, but I'll probably just delete it. I was wrong about him, it doesn't happen often, but I was wrong about him."

"I'd say you are wrong about people more than that," the guy said, looking at the roll of money she just handed him. Jenny shook her head.

"No, I'm not wrong about him," she said, head nodding toward the money. "I know exactly what he is, I just can't get away from his problem." The guy raised his eyebrows as if to say, "what can you do." She shrugged, and he got up and left. Jenny sat there for a minute.

"Back to grinding," she thought. She would go hit the $1/$2 NL tables, again. She hated having to restart her bankroll, but what else could she do. "Damn him," she thought. The problem was, she wasn't sure which him she meant.

A/N: If every one of you wants to start a review with, "I'm not happy with you right now," I understand. (IT'S ME, it will be okay) I'm going to go hide now…Take Care, till next time.

DC